dumb

Wake up.

...

Wake up, Visionary.

…...

There isn't much time. We- ...I, need you to wake up.


There it was. That voice again, ringing through her skull like an unwanted guest at a frat party. She was so used to the chorus of screaming that it was always a little jarring when it was just this singular voice.  And it was always this same voice, some lady speaking in some weird language that sounded like the one the wizard mom spoke, but somehow she could understand it. It didn't make sense, but why question the Messengers? If they're not gonna give up anything what's the point.

Midnight lay on the hard pavement, barely doing more than twitch. She could feel her head spinning, and the searing pain in her eyesockets. It was as if she had been struck by lightning through the eyes. But who was she kidding? That was exactly what had happened. Her face was wet with blood and vitreous fluid and she could feel it running down her cheeks and onto the concrete. Maybe she was dying.

Not that she wanted to do anything but die, right now. That thing had taken Anya. That thing had given her a speech about how she was now to warn the city of the Sword of Caine. That thing was going to kill her, and then where would she be? Where would Ros be? Where would her sister be? She'd have blood on her hands because she couldn't stop the little wolf from killing herself.

Maybe if she just bled out, that could be the end of it. If she even tried to move her head it felt like there was a white-hot poker in her eyes anyway. Why hadn't they brought him with? Three people is better and harder to deal with than two. She deserved to bleed out. He deserved better than her, anyway. He had better with Anya, but too late now.


But here was this lone Messenger, refusing to let her head go metaphorically dark.


Please, wake up.

What's the point? She'll be dead by the time I get there. All they want to do is kill her. What, am I gonna be saving a pile of ash?

There's still time. She needs you. Your lover needs you. Your friends need you. Don't give up now.

There's no time and you know it. You're tryin' to make me get up so you can have a pawn to kill more innocent 'monsters' with.

Do you want her to die, Magdalene? Do you want her to be left to the true miserable dogs with the knowledge that you didn't even try? They won't just kill her. They'll torture her. They'll draw it out for their sick amusement in their furor to find a Chantry that doesn't exist. But you have the power to save her.

How? Tell me how some schmo like me can save her when I can't even fight. Bet you Messengers never thought of that. You always did want me to be the team therapist. Fuck that, you got a trained professional for that shit. What do I get? The power to talk. That's great. Fuckin' brilliant. But then I get tossed out into this mess, and what use am I?

Stay determined, Magdalene Vargas. Do not let your despair get in the way of your duty. Don't give up. It seems hopeless, but you, and perhaps only you, can turn the tides. Call them, Magdalene. Call them all, and drive the stake of your fury into the heart of their reign of terror! Take back the night, Visionary, and bring forth an age of peace!

Explain to me how I'm supposed to do that with words.

The time for words has passed with the coming of the monster I knew as Zviad. Now, your every action within this night will speak all the words you need. Rise, Visionary. Rise and take the hunt to the front door of the Sword of Caine. When next you take to your blade, you will find power, and the wounds inflicted upon you will close as theirs do. It is time. Rise up, and reclaim your city.

The voice went quiet again. Now, she could feel it, burning up in her chest and in her very soul. There is still time. The words still rattled through her head. Slowly, she reached for a machete she kept hidden  along her thigh. She felt the fury in her heart reach out through her arm and focus itself in the blade.

As if by instinct, she began to carve a sigil into what she felt to be a piece of plywood that someone discarded, pouring this burning anger into every stroke of the blade.

She needed to call them, and what better place to start than the other Hunters?