Animal Carve Spell

Her morning began with a blow to the eye, delivered by her son’s cute heel. That wasn’t unusual, but it hurt a lot. She went to apply ice. On her hip the little one tried to tear her hair out.

She looked at the talisman on the wall. It appeared scorched. She sighed - it meant it was wasted, because it caught too many immaterial entities. Someone had been watching a chain of nightmares. Could be her.

Her husband asked her when breakfast was. She mumbled something, hiding her irritation and starting the kitchen routine awkwardly. Left hand - son, right hand - ice, left foot - gravitation, right foot - spell activation. She wished the spells were more complicated than just starting the fire in the oven and routing the water to the kettle.

“Would you look at that! Whoever starts the spell with their feet!” That was the mother-in-law. Oh, Mercies. How she wished to be left alone now… But she chose to keep silent to avoid the spreading of hatred. It was enough that the old woman hated her guts, she herself on the other hand could fool her own soul into chaste humbleness. So many attempts gone wasted in the past to establish any kind of understanding between them.

“Jenden is trying to tie your hair, what a good boy!” cooed her husband, approaching her and grabbing her by the hips. She needed the hips to move and now she was trapped. But conceded, not wanting to spoil his good mood. “Good boy, or else we’re all gonna be eating her hair again!”

After feeding her husband, her older son, her younger son, her mother-in-law and her son, too, with an unsophisticated combination of omelette and bacon, she rushed to the kindergarten.

Which was closed. The Temple, where she worked, was about to open, and she had yet to accumulate enough of mind clarity to perform her duties. She nervously paced, while Jended was exploring nearby puddles. Hiding hands in the pockets of her blue uniform robes, she felt a paper - a scroll. It had been given to her by the spiritualist. He’d insisted she’d needed “to speed things up”. Yet she was coping. She was fine. She just had to be patient and enduring. This was the way. It was for the best - she was the example of the never-ending mercy of their Goddess. She put the scroll into the pouch on her belt so she wouldn’t forget to stash it away at home.

Then she saw the teacher rushing to the gates.

“Clockwork sharp, aren’t you!” The teacher actually reproached her, huffing while opening the gates, “Could’ve undressed him already, while you were laying the ambush here.”

They went in. She undressed Jenden, took good deep breaths. No need to aggravate the tension between her and the one who took relatively good care of her child.

Outside, she siddled up on her shovel-ride and, of course, was commented on.

“Hey, isn’t a priest supposed to be at the Temple now?! Where’s our mana?!”

“Rush yer ass to the Temple or we’re gonna have crop failure!”

She increased the speed so they lost her out of sight. Screw them, scrubs who had nowhere to go, judging by their beers at such an early hour.

A carriage nearly knocked her over. “Watch your routing, priestess!” they shouted. No carriages were allowed higher than first level! And they were on the third! Yet she was in a hurry. Let Her Mercy have them.

She burst into the Temple like a whirlwind, parking the shovel-ride and running up the stairs to the main hall.

“You’re the only one left, come on!” She was ushered in, but not to the altar. Oh, shacks!

She totally forgot about the spiritualist visit. Once a month they all had to go through therapy. So the mana flow would go unobstructed by their own masses of negativity. Also, more often than not, the parish unloaded just enough of too much on them and the spiritualist had to literally clean up both Temple and themselves from all the curses, sticky bad thoughts, that caught onto each other and formed entities.

When she sat in front of the spiritualist, he observed her coolly.

“What?”

“You did not use the scroll.”

He sighed and then began to cast, whispering fast with his eyes closed. He was a good guy. Young, proficient.

The door opened with a bang. The spiritualist frowned at the trespasser, but continued with the spell.

“If you’re late for the check-up, expend your own coin and bring the proof that you underwent the procedure! Now - go!” The Tenth Priest of Water had a nasty habit of shouting at his subordinates.

She was torn between the spiritualist, who observed her with half-lidded eyes and who still was casting, and the Tenth, who roared at her yet another “Now”, adding a few good working threats.

She nodded humbly at the spiritualist and scrambled to fulfil her duties.

There were many things that were exhausting in her mediocre life, but blessing her parish wasn’t one. It was a great exercise of making the world a better place.

The Goddess wanted her this way - all-forgiving and merciful. To nourish the mages of each shift with mana. To supply everyone with plenty of energy to cast. No matter the accomplishments - everyone should come and have it. No matter what for - for the good and for the bad, it was the resource given freely away.

She finished late. She drove past the market to grab a basket, saved for her by one of the farmers she had an arrangement with.

“How was your day?” he asked, obviously not caring about the answer, so she said, “Great, yours?”

Truth was, she was not great. No matter how much patience she exuded towards people, somehow it was never enough for them to start treating her just a little bit better. And no amount of generated mana could stop the Talisman of Spindling Adversarial Pre-Beings going black by the morning.

At home she was met with more huffed reproaches by her mother-in-law, a couple of children’s tantrums. Dinner was much awaited by all of them, so she made it. Once again she wished her day job paid enough for at least a clothing washer spell. Because when she was bent over the tub full of dirty undies of the whole family, her brother-in-law took this as a chance to approach her butt again with his endeavors. It was harder each time - to joke it off, to get him off her back, not to provoke a hurt response resulting in violence.

She almost fell asleep with the youngest, when the mother-in-law barged in to demand where the heck her other son was, and also, his father.

Adrenalin sparked and she asked the older lady, “Did you let him out again?”

The mother-in-law made round innocent eyes, “Should I be keeping a ten-year old mage caged? What am I, a demon?”

Insurmountable rage splashed inside of her then, but she miraculously caught herself. Now was not the time - she ran out to search for Lenden.

Two hours and a visit to the tavern later - to ask a high-level counter mage to search - she came home, made the young scamp wash himself and go to bed without doing his homework. A thing that went not unnoticed by his grandma.

She was saved from more nagging by the fire - the front door literally exploded and here was the star of the night, demanding intimacy and dinner.

“Dear, your job is to put out fires, not to start them,” She came to tackle her man, but was shoved away.

The baby woke up.

She stood and rushed to the well in the basement, but was caught at her hair. Screw growing them, even if that meant less mana! Cutting it tomorrow!

“Let go!” She shouted, struggling. She checked the emfit device that tracked the amount of spells they had left on the square of land. It was fine. It wasn’t fine, of course! It was illegal to cast spells in the city unless the job demanded it!

“The fire! You’re on fire!” She struggled, now trying to strip the drunk man off his jacket that was burning. She half-heartedly joked inside her head: why wasn't he breathing fire? He was so saturated with alcohol it must explode with the spark easily.

Jenden tapped toward the struggling parents and then - the husband shook off the jacked onto the child. The baby immediately wailed, his wispy fluffy hair catching flames.

“You fools! Now you hurt the little one!” The mother-in-law shouted at them. She was a water mage, why wouldn’t she do anything?!

But there was no time. The panicked woman ran to the nearest altar, Goddess forgive her, and grabbed the whole bowl and with a thrust splashed it all over Jenden. Then she cradled him, and went to the basement to pray, locking them inside. She didn’t care for the front door.

There were more shouts upstairs. She required peace. The baby held tight onto her shirt and was very, very silent now.

She checked the emfit - good to go. She inhaled stale damp air and began to cast. Off were gone the fresh burns on the skin of her son, and some bruises she didn’t heal the other day, after his father lashed out on him. She was of good enough level not to disturb the magical field too much with one spell. But she loathed breaking laws. Up to now she was a good citizen.

Snuggling Jenden to her chest she was swaying, gulping her silent tears. Yeah, the house was probably on fire. Somehow she was ok with it.

Then she remembered the scroll.

Trying not to disturb the snoozing child she extracted the scroll from the pouch on her belt.

It said, “Animal Carve Spell”. Self-use. Duration: maximum two hours. Mana cost: none. Ley: Spiritualistic 100%. Requirements: quiet room, alarm person or device.

She smirked, looking at Jenden. A quiet room - maybe. Alarm - check. The baby would probably sleep for two or three hours before waking for a night tit-snack.

She spread her skirt wide and laid her child onto it. She was at her wits end. She needed help. Soon the dark feelings turned into beings would smother her in her sleep, and no talisman would be able to save her.

With a shuddering breath, she laid down onto the carpeted floor and in the dim candlelight began to read out from the scroll.

Gradually the reality shifted around her. She entered the spiritual field. She’d been here on several dire occasions, and when she saw the extra door she knew that was the door to her inner self. To her soul. The spell instructions were to enter it and kill the animal.

She swung the door open and squinted from the bright light. Sun? Inside of her?

She blinked and realized it was fire. She nearly rushed back, taking it as a sign of the house being actually on fire - what if it worked that way?! But then she saw a lake. There was no lake under their city, for sure, and she calmed down.

Also, waters usually did not burn as bright as this lake. Because it was a picture of herself inside, so it totally made sense. How bad she was having it, when even the source of her mercy was being evaporated.

A red-skinned woman came up to her and smiled.

“Welcome.” She didn’t look like her. What a relief.

The woman motioned for her to follow and they made their way into the blazing grove.

“I knew this day would come.”

She heard her red-skinned companion say that and thought, yeah. I knew.

They were interrupted by an old man, “This - I never thought Her Mercies would be kind to us if we do that!”

“Do what?” She asked him, but he just waved at her in exasperation.

A young girl came up, too. Wherever she stepped, flowers grew. Oh, she thought. My spring.

“Do it,” she hissed, despite looking so innocent and benevolent.

“Do what?!” She swirled around and noticed she was dressed in black - but it was no usual gown. It splashed black ink all around her. She immediately wanted to wash herself off. To bring water to put out the grove - and when she started for the lake, the girl gripped her, “No, kill it! The lake is of no use, can’t you see?!” The girl all but hissed at the contact, so much the ink hurt her. The old man also stood in her way.

“But - but I am dirty!” Why she couldn’t afford being dirty she no longer knew. The spiritual plane was rarely different from a messed up dream.

“It is ok to be dirty when defending yourself, my dear self.”

The red-skinned lady stood facing away from her, looking at the fire eating the grove.

Animal. What I need is an animal, she remembered. But where is it?

She looked closely at her company - but none of them had any tails or furry ears. Irritated, she stormed through their grabby hands, shoving the old man, heading toward the lake.

She began to clean herself in the low waves that were not burning. Fortunately the water cleaned the ink.

“Why do you wash it off?!” The girl screamed at her. “It’s not dirt! It’s the sacred balm!”

She stood speechless. Sacred balm?! The one priests used to lather themselves before the Ceremony of Salamander Dance?! They tested their worthiness to the Goddess this way when challenged.

“Why am I covered in it?” She stood up, looking at the balm upon her body in horror. Did it mean…

“You need to burn,” The red-skinned smiled.

“No!” She shouted at them, trapped, and looked into the lake. Right back at her looked an ewe’s face. Wide eyes, hornless, all covered in ink - and she had to kill it, she had to kill herself.

“I don’t want to die,” she sobbed.

“You’re not gonna.” The red-skinned was calm.

“But - I am… innocent.”

The red-skinned smiled, wide and wicked. “You won’t have to be.”

And the old man and the child pushed her into the burning lake.

She woke up to the baby squirming and fussing in search of a tit. The alarm worked. The salt crusted on her cheeks in streaks, her eyes puffy. She turned on her side to feed and felt how her lungs filled with air more freely.

She came out in the morning and put her little son on the floor in the kitchen. Started the oven and water. Made breakfast for the family - oats with dried fruit, boiled eggs, salad.

“You and your slop,” the mother-in-law grumbled.

She took the oats away from the mother and chucked it into the trash bucket.

“A little airy, isn’t it?” She commented, looking at the black maw the fire made out of the door. The little kid who lost interest in the porridge went out.

“Jenden, back or you’ll die there.” She said in a very harsh voice. No shouting at the kids, ay! But she was calm now. And the baby listened, not to her words, but to the truth in them.

Then she called the neighbours to witness the state of their door, the burnt hairs on Jenden’s head, and request records of their emfits that registered the magical field fluctuations.

That day everything suddenly came easy. She told the teacher to not be late ever or else the parents are going to complain. She stopped to report the guys who were drinking on the job. Then - to report the carriage that was spotted on the second level of the city. She did not feel any glee at that - she was just … giving feedback.

Yet the most feedback-giving was in the evening.

When the brother-in-law came to grope her, she told him to back off - and when he didn’t, insulting her with sordid insinuations, she waited until they actually had a sparring, shuffling and breaking dishes, then tapped on the ring on her finger.

“What’s this?” he asked, releasing her, “What is this?”

“I recorded your behaviour. Next time you do it, I call guards.”

He retreated, degrading her further verbally. Little did he know the guards were on their way.

She remembered all the times she reminded her husband it was illegal to get drunk without the Stop-casting amulet. How many times she thought of running away, and two times she did only to be coaxed back with a lot of mellowing attention and promises. She had never imagined herself so… Unforgiving. Or more like - un-no-longer-forgiving.

When the guards came over, she just finished reading to the boys.

“You, snitch!” her husband hissed, being framed away by two burly red-haired guards. Her mother-in-law was shouting at the guards and even went as far as hitting one of them, which resulted in her being taken away too.

The young mother was trembling, no gloatful joy inside.

“You’ll be sorry!” The brother-in-law shouted and followed his relatives.

She felt she won’t.

What she would be - she would be missing. That ewe, that innocence.

She needed a minute - or a lifetime - to mourn herself. She no longer was what she thought she ought to be. She no longer was who she loved the most - meek, obedient sheep, serving people endlessly.

And she took a lungful of air and suddenly burst into tears. That’ what the spiritualist meant by speeding things up.

She loved being good and comfortable for everyone. Oh Mercies, how would she live now? She probably was no longer the Goddess’ most preferred human. But that - the Goddess was famous for giving prompt feedbacks. She’d know. She wouldn’t be left in the dark.

And not spawning bad entities around her on a daily basis was good, wasn’t it?