Page 17 of Beyond The Maples
The fighting lasted years, and during that time the land changed drastically, making it almost impossible to continue on. In order to survive, they needed to shift their efforts on resources on all sides. The country became lawless. Several new facets of leadership had been created and agreeing upon a course of action was fruitless.
During the last battle, the Queen and several other powerful wielders used their last scraps of power to create the Barrier and fled. To the current day, scientists and officials cannot determine what the barrier is made of, or what its initial purpose was. The structure is essentially a sheet of untouchable magic, rendering a small portion of the continent inaccessible. Collecting samples and studying it has proven difficult, as those who come too close essentiallycombust.
It's reported this last act killed the Queen, and was the final offence to the Gods that had once taken care of Arcadya. The King was never seen again. There were reports he died shortly after the Queen, that they had been two halves of one soul and couldn't survive without each other despite their differences. This has never been confirmed officially.
In the wake of all the disaster, the Council of New Providence was formed, and without any magic they sought to restore the land. During this time, the devout clergy members had been given guidance towards the future from the Gods themselves, claiming they knew the best way towards our salvation. Unfortunately, there were still parts of the Kingdom who disagreed. So it was split in three, using the mountain lines and the tar pits that now sliced the country as natural borders.
"Willow...." I interrupt, a hand smacking over my face with a groan.
"What?!" she barks.
"Claiming they knew?! You are openly saying you don't agree with history in some of this, you know. Just in flowery words." What I don't say out loud iswhat twelve-year-old writes like this in the first place? No wonder she's always getting into trouble.
"Half the people in my class can't read, including my teacher. Now shut up and let me finish," she quips, and clears her throat dramatically.
Soland is made up of the lawless, the grifters who choose to live life under no law or religion. It's said most of the war criminals fled there during the war, the land barren and uninhabitable, anyway.
Zaphira was created by idealists. Parts of the original Council the King had created had survived, and held onto the hope that both technology and magic could find a place in this world together. That the answers were out there somewhere.
New Providence was left to fend for itself, its mission to live faithfully until the Gods returned and blessed us for our devotion. Giving to the temples, living life in faith at their mercy. The clergy who had originally been given these messages along with the grand Council are adamant this is the way to return things to what they once were.
And that brings us to the current day. All magic, technology, and innovation is prohibited. All in hopes that one day the continent will be blessed and restored.
There's a pause in Willow's speaking and I wait a minute before responding, wondering if maybe she's just out of breath.
I eye her across the room. She tosses the paper and flops over on her stomach. She's not even a teenager yet, and she wrote that? She's gotten in trouble a few times, teachers assuming she'd stolen work or had others write it for her. They tested her two years ago, making her answer questions in essay form in a jail-like setting––according to Willow––to gauge her true mental capacity. Turns out, she's just a little genius. In a very different way than Linden, but just as impressive.
"Well, that was neat," I say with a smirk.
"Neat?!" she huffs. "That was good work Maple! I worked hard on it. Got suspended for it." She grunts, crossing her arms.
"It wasbrilliant,Willow. You're brilliant." Her tough act disintegrates with my words, but because I'm her big sister, I can't help but say, "But you didn't get suspended for the essay. You got suspended for not following instructions and arguing with the teacher... again." I give her a knowing look.
That essay was brilliant. I'm not just tooting her horn because I'm her sister. And it was thorough. Verging on dangerous, because it might've beentoothorough.
And way beyond what they had asked her to do.
She groans her distaste at my opinion, and I can't help but roll my eyes, smiling. This big brained, smart mouthed, little woman is going to be thedeath of me.
I walk through the streets of the only town I've ever known with a new set of eyes that afternoon. I have several stops to make and a lot to do before I leave, but I can't help myself.
Meandering through the familiar streets, I catalogue the dust-soaked town to memory, feeling strange. Nothing here is particularly beautiful, especially as the thick sandyclouds roll in every so often and slap residents trying to walk by. I suspect at one point it had been a beautiful place, though.
Now most windows are broken and boarded up, or covered in such thick dust it's impossible to see through them. I try to imagine the town before; electricity sizzling through the now dead street lamps, soft magic keeping homes warm, and markets overflowing with food and families.
All that's left here now is an odd reflection of that old life. Markets comprised of relics and quietly stolen treasure from the past. All these cracked sidewalks, however ugly, are home for me and so, as I walk, I let myself wander through memories of my little town. Meeting Marta for the first time, running around with Deacon, distant and hard reached memories of when my family was healthy and whole.
I wish I'd been able to see this place in its prime. When low level wielders would put on shows on the street corners, inventors would sell their creations, and creatures roamed all over the place.
Sprites and pixies andanimals. Gods, it's been a while since I've seen a bird. Willow swears she saw a powrie once, a murderous little creature with anaffinity for treasure and blood, hiding in her school broom closet. I assume she was letting her imagination get the best of her, but if not, I'm jealous.
I once saw a rat carrying a sock though, so, same.
I decide to get the easy stuff over with first today, heading to enlist. Then I'll head to the diner and quit, say goodbye to everyone. The thought of Gile's face when I give my notice fills me with a sick satisfaction. It would be lovely to tell him to go straight to the underworld, but I probably shouldn't, in case I ever make it back here and need a job.
Lastly, I will hunt down Deacon, and pray to the Gods he understands. I really can't manage another persons meltdown today. I have hope, though, that he will come through as he always does for me, in time. I round the corner to see the small government building. I'm told there's an outpost like this in every town, usually managed by two or three official government employees. I have only been once, hoping to track down my father, but apparently finding wayward residents isn't their problem.
I pause outside the rusted brick, wondering if there's some last-minute option I'd forgotten so I can turn around and forget about this whole thing. My gut churns, because that also feels unappealing somehow. I'd been up all night, running every possibility through my head, hoping to find a solution that involved me staying––but there wasn't one.
