Trinity of Magic

Viola’s heart slowly began to calm as she realized that she had escaped the nightmare. She was finally free from that strange, dreamlike existence that had held her prisoner for who knew how long.

She was herself again.

She was safe. Or was she?

Viola’s attention was drawn to the familiar yet unfamiliar surroundings. She was lying on an impossibly large bed. And, for some reason, the pale white, velvety bedsheet beneath her jostled a long-forgotten part of her memories.

Her gaze swept across the room, trying to grasp hold of that familiar feeling.

The room was incredibly spacious.

In one corner stood a writing desk made from solid, stained wood. On the other side was a long wardrobe that seemed to be filled to the brim with dresses of all colors and styles.

As for the other wall?

There was none.

The entire left side of the room was made of floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking... the sky.

”Ah...”

As if a dam had broken, that vague feeling of familiarity suddenly gave way to realization.

This... was her room. Her childhood room.

She was in her family’s ancestral home. Windspitz. The city above the clouds and the ultimate stronghold of the Windtänzer family.

She was home.

The word sounded strange even as a thought.

This place had not felt like home to her for as long as she could remember. After being admitted to the Elementium, she had never returned. But even before then, she had never considered this place anything other than a prison.

It was strange, really, how a city above the clouds could feel so endlessly suffocating...

Clatter.

The sound of silverware rattling against the floor immediately drew her attention.

Through the half-open door of her room, she could make out the figure of a servant.

Viola didn’t recognize her.

The woman had one hand raised to cover her mouth, her wide eyes locked onto Viola, completely ignoring the fallen tray and spilled soup on the floor.

Which was a shame, really, because Viola felt like she was starving.

”Y-young miss...!” the servant stammered before seeming to snap out of her stupor. ”YOUNG MISS!”

”...Yes?”

”I need to... I have to—”

Leaving the sentence unfinished, the servant hurried away.

”Wait...” Viola called after her, but it was no use. The woman either didn’t hear her or decided that whatever she was about to do was more important right now.

Viola let out a sigh as the servant’s footsteps faded into the distance.

Her already complicated feelings, stirred by the realization of where she was, grew more tangled still. The servant had clearly gone to fetch someone, but whoever came through that door, it was unlikely to be a touching reunion...

How strange that while she had followed Zeke’s life, she had dreaded seeing the faces of her family.

Yet now that she was awake, she dreaded seeing them alive as well.

That was family, she supposed. Even when they did not get along, some stubborn attachment remained, no matter what one wished.

Shortly after, quick footsteps approached from down the corridor.

Viola’s fingers moved on instinct, and the wind carried the echoes straight to her ears.

Two people, both women, judging by the sound of their heels. One was the servant from earlier, and the other...

They reached the door, and Viola saw the servant bow her head to someone outside before opening it fully.

Then, with a long stride to avoid the mess on the floor, the new person stepped into the room.

Viola’s heart trembled at the sight.

A tall build, short-cropped silver hair, and a face that looked as though it had been carved from ice.

”Viola,” she said, and even that single word somehow sounded like an accusation.

Viola’s fingers tightened around her bedding.

”...Mother.”

”So you do remember,” the woman said, slowly making her way toward the bed. ”I had almost started to believe you didn’t consider yourself my child anymore with how distant you’ve been.”

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”...I never had any intention of avoiding you,” Viola lied.

”Is that so?”

Her mother came to a halt in front of the bed and looked down at her with the gaze of a judge staring at a criminal.

”Then why do I feel like it might have been better if you had?”

Viola’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

What was she even supposed to say to that?

Her mother sighed deeply.

”By the Great Spirit of Wind, Viola... What have I done to deserve such a daughter?”

”I—”

”Do you even understand how much shame you’ve brought upon me?” her mother continued. ”Of all people, you chose to befriend that Hohenheim boy. Do you have any idea what people are saying about our branch of the family now?”

Viola fought with all she had to keep her expression from crumbling.

Whatever relief she had felt at seeing her mother alive and well had already vanished. What remained was only the ever-present wish to flee this conversation as quickly as possible.

”And then, when you were finally given the chance to redeem yourself on the battlefield, you couldn’t even last a few minutes against someone years your junior.”

Viola closed her mouth and lowered her head, just like she had done ever since she was a child.

She knew that her mother wasn’t looking for a conversation.

No matter what Viola said or did, there was no escaping this tirade.

”The only slightly redeeming thing about this entire mess,” her mother continued, ”is that you at least tried to fight him. When I heard that you had encountered Ezekiel, I half expected you to turn traitor on the spot.”

A thousand words danced on the tip of Viola’s tongue, none of them kind. She forced them all back down. Whether it was with words or with strength, she was no match for the woman standing before her.

”Mother...” she forced out.

Her mother narrowed her eyes.

”What happened?”

Viola hesitated.

The question that truly mattered almost escaped her lips.

What happened to Zeke?

She swallowed it down.

”Did we win the battle?”

Her mother paused.

Then the corners of her mouth curled ever so slightly in what Viola recognized as cruel amusement.

”Worried about your little friend, aren’t you?”

Viola pressed her lips shut.

She would never admit it, no matter how close her mother had come to the truth.

”Typical,” her mother spat. ”No, we did not win the battle. Who could have expected that butcher Ezekiel to hide such a trump card...”

Trump card?

What trump card?

Did Zeke actually have even more up his sleeve?

Viola had already been shocked out of her mind when she saw him raise ghostly blood fiends from the corpses of the dead.

Had that not even been his final card?

How many layers were there to this man?

Inadvertently, Viola’s thoughts returned to the Ezekiel from the dream world.

To the man he had become after learning of Maximillian’s death.

To the hatred he had felt after the Empire declared him a public enemy.

Her fingers tightened around the blanket.

She... she had to know.

”Mother... did we...”

Her voice faltered.

She didn’t know what would be worse: learning that the world in her dream had truly been nothing but a dream, or discovering that it had actually happened.

”Did we betray Maximillian?” Viola asked. ”Did we cause the fall of House Hohenheim...?”

”No,” her mother said resolutely.

Viola breathed a sigh of relief.

It lasted only until her mother’s next words.

”It was House Hohenheim that caused their own fall. They betrayed the Empire. All we did was hold to our principles.”

Viola stared at her.

Those words.

Not exactly the same, perhaps, but close enough to make something cold crawl along her spine.

”Did...” Viola swallowed. ”Did Grandpa fight Maximillian? Did he capture him?”

One of her mother’s brows rose by a fraction.

”Did the boy tell you?”

Viola nodded quickly. Blaming it on him was still the only explanation she had.

”Pah!” Her mother spat. ”Whatever that boy told you, you shouldn’t be so quick to believe it. If the Elder hadn’t acted as he did, our entire family could have been implicated. It could have been our downfall...”

”But...” Viola felt her eyes grow moist. ”Max... Maximillian... He was like a brother to Grandpa. How could we... How could he do this?”

”...To protect the family. And... to protect you.”

Viola’s breath caught.

The person who had answered was not her mother.

An elderly man stood in the open doorway, looking at her with complicated eyes.

The moment Viola saw him, her already moist eyes finally overflowed, tears streaming freely down her face.

”Grandpa...”

Victor Windtänzer, Prime Elder of Arkanheim, stood rooted to the spot. Unable to advance. Unable to retreat. Unable to even meet her eyes. Even if all the Mages of the Empire were put together, Viola alone was able to reduce him to such a state.

Victor’s drifting gaze sharpened for an instant as it landed on her mother.

”Leave us.”

Her mother didn’t dare disobey. For a moment, she hesitated. Her gaze fell on Viola, lingering there a fraction longer than necessary before she turned away.

Then she left the room with the maid.

Only Victor remained.

Instantly, a thousand curses came to Viola’s mind.

A million reprimands.

And a trillion complaints.

But all of them paled before the question that dominated her entire being.

”Is it true?” she asked, not even trying to keep her voice from shaking. ”Did you send me away because you knew you were going to betray Maximillian?”

Victor’s expression changed.

”...Did the boy say that?”

”Answer me!”

Victor sighed, but finally met her eyes. ”Yes.”

Viola felt her heart tremble.

The dream. It had all been true. Everything! She had seen the past through Ezekiel’s eyes. Which meant that...

Her tears came harder.

”Grandpa...” Viola asked in a trembling voice. ”How could you have done this? To Maximillian? To Zeke? They were our closest allies, our friends...”

Victor sighed deeply.

”That is exactly why I had to send you away. You never understood what it meant to choose the greater good.”

”The greater good...” Viola repeated, utterly disbelieving.

She had seen the past.

She had seen what the greater good had done to Zeke.

And she had seen what it had made him do to them in return.

A pyramid of heads, stacked into a pile so high it seemed to reach the sky.

Windtänzer.

Steiner.

Feuerkranz.

Wellenrufer.

Hundreds of distorted faces had been turned into a shrine in memory of this betrayal.

Could this really be called the greater good?

Whose good?

”Zeke, he...”

Viola didn’t know how to continue that sentence.

What was she even supposed to say?

That he would never let them off?

That he would stop at nothing to get his revenge?

That he would hunt her grandfather down, no matter where he hid?

Was there even the slightest chance that Victor didn’t already know all this?

He had likely known that Zeke would never forgive him from the very moment he had decided to let him go all those years ago.

”...Yes,” her grandfather said, as if he had read her thoughts. ”That boy has turned out to be more of a problem than I anticipated.”

Victor tried to smile, but the expression looked uglier than crying.

”Do you regret it?”

Viola didn’t know why she asked. But she felt like she had to.

”No,” her grandfather said. ”Maximillian’s plan was doomed to fail from the start. By siding against him ahead of time, I could at least protect the rest of you from the fallout.”

Viola slowly shook her head.

”That’s not what I’m asking.”

Victor fell silent.

”I want to know if you regret letting Zeke go.” Viola stared directly into his eyes. ”Would you have killed him too if you had known how things would turn out?”

Victor froze.

For a long moment, he didn’t move at all.

Then, his gaze slipped away from hers.

His mouth opened. Closed again. In the end, he merely let out a deep sigh.

”Come with me.” He turned toward the door. ”You have a lot to catch up on...”

”And even more is about to happen.”