Chapter One: Destruction
Fowlie cracked an eye open and her heart soared. She was finally in control! Having awoken in her own bed, her mood instantly changed to blissfully happy… though she still wondered what damage Forge had caused this time. Forge was the one who was in control of FowlStar’s body last time around. She gazed at the ceiling, plastered with posters of Prussia, England, America, and a whole other host of characters from Hetalia. Her lullaby, Mama by My Chemical Romance was playing softly from her purple Bose sound system. It was a gift from Artemis on her birthday. She sighed, appreciating the soft purple curtains, the purple rugs and white lamps, the beautiful embroidered white duvet that was ruffled from her movements. She was nestled among countless purple and white pillows.
She saw someone had put Tamerion on its stand. She grinned. Probably Mira. Mira knew how Fowlie loved to take care of that sword. It was a gift of goodwill by the xTerrian Council that helped her to govern the planet xTerra from Earth.
She threw the covers off, and slipped into her satin bedroom slippers. How good it felt to feel the soft folds of cloth that was her bed. She had to savor these types of things, for they were seldom felt. Fowlie carefully made her bed, arranging the pillows and sheets just right. Then, she padded off to her purple-and-white flowered bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.
Out of the bathroom, garbed in a purple silk robe and a fluffy white towel for her wet hair, she threw open the doors to her walk-in closet. She grinned. Time to accessorize. Out of the selection of designer clothes, colorful clothes and her signature black-and-purple outfits, she threw on her signature distressed black jeans, her combat boots, and a loose purple tee-shirt that simply said ‘MCRmy’. She also chose a black jean jacket and strapped on her sheath for Tamerion. On her calf she strapped on another sheath for a small dagger. She went to her sword stand for Tamerion and neatly slid it into the black sheath. She ignored her black bow, Triller (named for the sound it made when Fowlie fired her arrows). The dark energy running through the bow that gave it its black color with the eerie purple tendrils of magic was a little excessive and draining for her day to day activities. Unless she was practicing her archery. Lastly, she slid her purple armband on her arm. Fowlie gingerly picked up her *StarBoard.
There. Now she was ready to tackle the day. Fowlie went outside into the hallway. She placed her StarBoard on the floor and whispered: Activate. It immediately uncoiled and solidified, floating a foot above the floor. She stepped on it, and decided she would fly above the training grounds and see if anyone wanted to practice before breakfast.
Fowlie winced as Forge and Veronica began arguing in her mind again, and she subconsciously began counting to five. She needed to stop that. Needed to stop counting. Now. Before she went crazy with fear. She would never count to four. Four has always meant death. She shook these thoughts from her mind as she saw Mira down below.
Luckily Mira was up, training. She was practicing her sword skills.
“Hey,” Fowlie said, as she descended.
“Hey, it’s Fowlie this time, right?” Mira asked, still practicing her complex sword strokes,
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, going to hug her, “Mind if I practice with you?”
She stopped in the middle of a sword stroke, “Oh thank the Gods,” she squealed as we hugged. “You’re here! Sure, lets spar for a bit.”
I giggled and pulled out Tamerion, moving into my fighter’s stance. My legs were spread apart, left foot slightly ahead of the right one. I held Tamerion up and looked at Mira. Our bodies and swords mirrored each other in position. I grinned and nodded. She charged, her graceful strokes against my heavier ones. We danced, striking and pulling back like determined vipers, switching between offense and defense. Sweat dripped from our heads, slowly drenching our bodies of the proof of our labor to better our selves in combat. After an hour, we both agreed to stop and head for breakfast.
Mira seemed reclusive. She didn’t respond well to my efforts to start a conversation. I simply waited for her to tell me. She would come around in time. I had my doubts that Forge might have gone too far this time. We sat down and loaded our plates. I began eating my cocoa puffs silently, responding to the occasional greetings by the rest of my family. Beside me, Mira silently finished her eggs and toast and downed a cup of coffee.
She turned around to look at me. I was silently sitting there, waiting for her to finish her food and say something.
“We need to talk,” she said gravely.
I nodded, “You’re acting different.”
“Let’s go to the infirmary. You need to see something. Yesterday, Forge, she… well….she hurt someone,” Mira finished worriedly.
My face paled in shock, “Wha-” I managed, before Mira pulled me from the dinning hall and took me to the infirmary.
“Forge has gone too far. We had to sedate her before she hurt anyone else.” Mira explained, worried.
I was in shock. Forge... I, had hurt someone. This was bad. I didn’t… couldn’t stand to see anyone in my family being hurt by another person, let alone myself.
Mira opened the doors to the infirmary and led me to the Intensive Care Unit, reserved for the most horrendous of injuries. She lead me to one of the operating rooms. Through a glass window, you could see everything that was going on. A little girl, barely eleven, was spread out on the operating table, with seven magical warlocks and fairies working to heal her. Her left leg and both arms were being healed, and so was a massively long but shallow cut to her stomach. Various bruises and cuts peppered her body. Fowlie gasped in horror as she realized who that little girl was.
She gasped, hot tears of denial flooding her pale weary face. She would kill Forge. She needed to kill her! She slid to the floor, dragging Mira down with her, who was trying in vain to comfort her.
How could she have let Forge hurt her own little sister?
That was Fowlie’s last thought as she blacked out, giving into her fighting subconscious.
*Fowlie’s StarBoard is another gift from the xTerrian council. xTerra is the planet in deep space that she grew up on when the xTerrian people abducted her. The Starboard is a small black CD sized disk that sits on a stand next to Tamerion in Fowlie’s bedroom at the FG HQ. It spirals outward and becomes a disk on which Fowlie can fly, by either sitting or standing. It is made of tempered black star metal that was forged with dark magic and the energy of thought (much like Eragon’s sword, Brisingr) and responds to Fowlie’s thoughts and feelings.