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cycleofmagic-witchzine · 1 month ago

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Surging Tide

written for @cycleofmagic-witchzine

"Irma! Watch out!"

Someone shouted it—could’ve been Will or Taranee, or anyone else, for that matter. Hell, for all I knew, it could’ve been one of our enemies, taking a brief sabbatical from evil to yell helpful warnings. With all the screaming—combined with magical death beams zipping around like it was peak hour at the local laser tag arena—it was impossible to tell.

The warning was great: timely, potentially life-saving—for anyone else. For me, it was utterly useless. I did not, in fact, watch out. Quite the opposite, actually—I froze like a complete idiot, practically begging to be hit, the only thing missing being a giant sign in my hands that said “Me! Me! Strike me!” Fight-or-flight, my foot. What I experienced was some third, lesser-known response, where my entire body seized up just long enough to give Nerissa a perfect, unhindered shot.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. Mine didn’t. Probably because there wasn’t much to flash. A handful of childhood memories, a few inside jokes, that one time I tripped on the stairs on my way to math class and flew down two flights. No, what actually came to mind wasn’t the past—it was the thoughts of what would happen next: the consequences my death would have on my family. How would they react when the girls brought home the limp body of Irma-the-Guardian—would they even recognize me in a tall, slim woman dressed in a crop top (my mother’s arch-nemesis in teenage fashion) with wings sprouting from her back?

Frankly, a part of me hoped they'd get to see that version of me—the beautiful, destiny-bound Irma, savior of the universe and a martyr for her friends (I’d trust the girls to really sell it—maybe throw in a few embellished tales about my incredible power and genius-level intellect), but that’s not how it would go. The Oracle would probably erase their memories to spare them the grief like he’d done many times before, so they could keep living their lives, never knowing they once had a daughter. And honestly, I’d prefer it that way.

Then again, maybe I was getting ahead of myself. I wasn’t even sure I was properly dead yet. Because just as I was bracing for eternal rest, my eyes opened on their own, unprompted, and I found myself standing. Upright. Still wearing my full Guardian get-up.

Before me, there was an endless void—black, still, and stretching farther than my eyes could follow. I spun around, squinting and hoping for some kind of a landmark, a friendly "Welcome to the Afterlife" banner, if you will. But there was nothing. What a perfect moment to use my wings, but of course, those were about as functional as a plastic tiara—decorative and entirely useless. Hay Lin was the only one who could make hers do anything, but mine were purely aesthetic. Just a cosmetic you’d equip in a dress-up video game and forget about five minutes later.

“Hello?” I tried.

My voice echoed, bouncing around the empty space like a playball. It came back to me from every direction, thin and distant, as if mocking me with my own uncertainty. I was all alone.

This “death” thing was nothing like I expected: no heavenly choir, no fiery pits of despair, just a whole lot of nothing. Anticlimactic. Unimaginative. With nothing to do and nowhere to be, I lowered myself onto the nonexistent floor and sat cross-legged. It held me, somehow, comfortably. I exhaled and decided I might as well reflect on my performance as a human being. If judgment was coming, I wanted to at least walk in with a semi-coherent defense.

Let’s see...

Picked fights with Chris on a daily basis—okay, not great. But also sort of a rite of passage for a growing boy? Builds character. Strengthens the sibling bond through mutual irritation. That had to count for something.

Helped mom with chores without whining—most of the time. Which, in teenage metrics, made me practically a saint.

Routinely fought off evil while wearing a belt-length skirt—extremely impressive.

Forgot to do 90% of my homework and usually only remembered it as the teacher was walking around with the collection folder—less than impressive.

But surely, my grades wouldn’t be the deciding factor when it came to the grand tally of my soul. What mattered was whether I cared, right? Whether I felt bad about not living up to expectations. And, boy, did I. Not a day went by without a pit of dread gnawing at my stomach over unfinished assignments. But really, what was I supposed to do? Evil never exactly consulted my schedule. It always showed up right before a deadline, never after.

So really, it wasn’t laziness—it was logistics.

The good definitely outweighed the bad, I decided, nodding sagely to myself. I wasn’t a saint, sure, but I’d done my share of good—more often than not while dressed up as a rave goer. I'd done my part. Risked my life more times than I could count. Surely God, or whoever was in charge of processing souls that day, wouldn’t turn away a teenage civil war veteran with a 2.5 grade point average.

Amidst my pondering, I almost missed the sound of footsteps approaching—soft, deliberate, and growing closer.

“Hi.”

I sprang to my feet, heart skipping, eyes scanning the darkness.

“Who’s there?”

Out of the void stepped a girl, her silhouette slowly sharpening. She wore the familiar Guardian uniform: green top, purple skirt, striped tights. Wings flickered faintly behind her, casting a soft glow that barely touched the surrounding blackness.

“Just me,” she said casually. “It’s not every day someone ends up here.”

I raised an eyebrow. Who in their right mind would choose to be in a place like this? I almost asked aloud—but then I pictured mom, pleading please, baby, keep the inside thoughts to yourself.

Ah, mother. You’d be so proud.

“Just dropping by,” I said instead.

The girl looked to be around my age. Shoulder-length ginger hair, a face full of freckles. She reminded me so much of my brother Chris that if they stood side by side, you’d probably think they were related. I imagined him in the Guardian uniform and had to stifle a laugh. The little primate would never pull off striped tights.

Then it hit me. I knew her.

Or, well… I sort of knew her. She was the previous Guardian of water—from Hay Lin’s gran’s team. Actually, earlier today was the first time I’d met her in person—though “met” might be a bit of a stretch, given the circumstances. Nerissa had stormed the Sheffield rec center with her old teammates in tow, all glassy-eyed and hypnotized. The ginger had wasted no time, pulling a wave straight out of the pool and sending it flying at me with the force of a small tsunami. If I hadn’t ducked when I did, I’d definitely have murder by waterboarding written on my death certificate.

So yeah. Not exactly a warm introduction. But memorable, at least.

Now, for the name…

“I know you! You’re—” I gestured vaguely, summoning what few working brain cells I had left to remember it. I’d heard it once or twice from Yan Lin. It was right there, teetering on the edge of my tongue. “You’re—”

“Cassidy,” she supplied helpfully.

“Yes! I knew it!” I cried, more relieved than I had any right to be. “Glad to see you’ve come back to your senses, by the way. That wave nearly killed me, just so you know.”

Cassidy’s brows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t even know who you are. And just so you know,” she added. “I don’t attempt to kill random people.”

“Irma,” I said quickly. “Now you do. Back to that wave, though—”

“I’m serious,” she replied. “I haven’t used my magic ever since I got here. And trust me,” she gestured to emphasize, “it’s been a damn long time.”

“So who was attacking us with Nerissa and the gang just now? Your twin?” I crossed my arms, trying to look accusative—but Cassidy’s confusion seemed genuine.

“Well, certainly not me. Wait… hold on.” Her head tilted slightly and her forehead furrowed, as if thinking with all her might was actually hurting her head. “You’re saying I’m out there? Like, right now? While I’m here?” She pointed down at the void floor for emphasis. “That doesn’t—how would that even—wait…”

I sighed. “Okay, so neither of us knows what’s going on. Great.”

“Well,” Cassidy said with a performative shrug. “Why does it even matter at this point? I suggest we stop overthinking and just… Enjoy the ambience. On another note,” she stepped closer, wrapping me in a sudden hug. “I’m so happy you’re here! It’s been forever since I met another person.”

Right. That wasn’t mildly alarming at all.

“How did you end up here?” I asked, perplexed, her arms still wrapped around me, squeezing tightly.

She let go and stepped back, face turning serious. “I’m not exactly sure. Last thing I remember, Nerissa was demanding the Heart of Kandrakar. I said no—obviously—and then she hit me with some kind of corrupted magic. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and what I think happened was when she killed me, something went wrong. Like, soul-detour wrong. I didn’t make it to Kandrakar. Just… ended up here instead.”

“But it’s been decades!” I looked at my hands, trying to calculate the time. “Thirty… no, forty years ago!”

“Guess so.” She chuckled. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

I stared at her blankly.

“What?” Cassidy asked. “I already did my crying. All of it.”

The realization hit me hard. I was here for the same reason—killed by Nerissa’s magic, locked in this empty limbo. Was this it for me too? Forty years? An eternity?

“You’re thinking too hard,” Cassidy teased, her eyes tracking me as I paced back and forth, back and forth.

“I’m not thinking enough,” I muttered. “I can’t—they’re still fighting. They need me. I have to help them!”

“Denial,” Cassidy said, matter-of-fact. “First stage of grief.”

“You don’t get it!” I could feel my heart thudding in my chest as panic crept into my voice. Breathing was getting harder, sharper. “If Nerissa kills them with that same magic—if they die like I did—they’ll all end up here! Every single one of them!”

“I say the more the merrier. Hey, what’s eternity when you’ve got a friend, right?” Cassidy shrugged, her voice casual, like this was just another day.

I barely heard her. The space around us was dead silent, but my brain was anything but—loud and messy and overcrowded. My thoughts were going so fast I could practically feel steam coming out of my ears.

“She’ll head for Kandrakar next,” I said, half to Cassidy, half to myself. “We know she will. That’s always been the plan.”

“Yeah,” she said, detached. “That sounds pretty bad.”

“C’mon,” I cried, my voice cracking in that awful way that made me sound younger than I wanted. “You have to help me get out of here!”

She blinked at me. “I can’t even get myself out.”

I let out a helpless, frustrated sound. “But you’re a Guardian!”

“So are you.”

My thoughts kept spinning—too fast, too many—and I had no idea how to stop them. I could almost feel my brain overheating from the effort, like something inside my head was about to short-circuit.

“Well—what about the Heart of Kandrakar?”

Cassidy raised a brow. “What about it?”

“The Oracle said you had it once,” I said, words tumbling out in a rush. “Maybe it left something with you? Powers? A connection? Can’t you at least try something? Anything?”

Cassidy’s jaw tightened. “You think I’ve been here for forty years dilly-dallying?” she snapped. “I’ve tried everything I could think of.” She turned away from me. “Everything.”

She wasn’t just brushing me off. I could tell—her shoulders were tense, like the memory still hit a nerve. She wasn’t angry at me, not really. Just tired. Tired of hoping for things that never worked.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” I said quickly, holding my hands up. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just think... now that there are two of us here—maybe that changes something.”

Cassidy let out a long breath and rubbed her temple like I was giving her a headache. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll think. Not like I’ve got much else to do, and clearly, you won’t drop it until I try.”

My heart actually thumped with relief. “I’ll try to help, too!” I added, cringing at how overeager I sounded as my voice bounced around the void in a squeaky echo. But Cassidy didn’t seem to notice. She just sank to the floor with a sigh, folding her legs underneath her like she was settling in for a long study session.

At least she was giving it a real shot. Even if she was only doing it to shut me up, I appreciated it.

“Tell me,” she said finally. “Am I out there just with Nerissa? Or are the others there too?”

“No,” I sank down beside her. “You are there with your team. Yan Lin was plucked out from Kandrakar. Kadma and Halinor are brainwashed.”

She brought a finger to her lips, thinking. “Could just be an illusion…”

I shook my head. “Astral Drops can’t use magic. You almost annihilated me with a wave. Real stuff.”

Cassidy’s leg started bouncing against the floor, and I couldn’t help but smile a little—I had the same exact habit. “Then Nerissa’s not doing it alone. Her power couldn’t make something that convincing unless…” She trailed off, frowning. “Unless there’s something real anchoring it. When she killed me, she had the Heart. The Oracle told us once that it’s… sentient. What if it didn’t agree with her? What if it… kept a piece of me stuck inside, like something she couldn’t fully get rid of?”

My eyes widened. “That’s why you’re there now. When the Heart calls, we answer. Nerissa called the old Guardians, and it must’ve used that piece of you—left inside the Heart—to give her one.”

Cassidy gave a faint smile, but her eyes didn’t match it. “I always figured the Heart remembered me. I called to it so many times, but it never… never…” She trailed off, her voice small. Then she turned her face away from me, quiet.

It was not the time to let despair take over. “But what if—” I grabbed Cassidy’s hand. “What if it kept you alive on purpose?”

“You think so?” she asked, her tone cautious, like she didn’t want to let herself believe it.

“I know so!” I assured her. “The Heart didn’t stuff two water-wielders in the same room for nothing.”

Cassidy perked up, something sparking behind her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “You command water too?” she asked, voice lifting, like the idea itself was a lifeline.

“Yes?” I replied, a little thrown by her sudden energy.

For the first time since I’d met her, she actually looked hopeful. Like someone had cracked open a window in the void and let a little light in. “This is it!” She exclaimed. “Together, we can reach it. We will combine our powers, this time, I’m sure the Heart will hear!”

“Our powers?” I repeated, doubtful, glancing around the void. “There’s no water here. Pretty sure we’re fresh out.”

“I’m not talking about water, silly,” she said, tapping my forehead with one finger.

“Mind control,” I said flatly, catching on. Every Guardian of Water had the power to connect with minds, influence thoughts, reach through people in ways that went deeper than words. I’d used and abused it left and right—especially at school—and even though I didn’t really get how it could help here, in the middle of magical limbo with no one around, I was desperate enough to try anything.

“Exactly,” Cassidy said, her hands squeezing mine like she was proud of me for catching up. “The Heart has a will of its own. If we link to it, together, maybe we can get through. Now close your eyes. Focus.”

I shut my eyes, trying to wrangle the mental chaos stampeding through my brain. My hands were sweaty against hers, and the grip felt clammy and gross. The collar of my uniform was itching like crazy, my eyelids felt like they were vibrating, and I was painfully aware of the weird sticky patch behind my knee that had been bothering me since forever.

“C’mon, girl,” Cassidy said, clearly feeling my fidget energy leaking through. “You’ve gotta find some calm in there. It's the only way.”

I yanked my hands back and scratched furiously at my leg. “Cassidy, I can’t,” I groaned. “I’ve got ADHD!”

“A D what?”

I sighed. Leave it to granny over here to not know what ADHD is—back in her day, lobotomies were probably still considered a valid treatment for a bad mood. “Never mind. Let’s try again.”

She squeezed my hand. “Okay,” she said, offering her hands again, “Attempt number two.”

***

My eyes flew open with a sharp gasp—like I’d just been yanked out of a freezing lake. My chest ached, my lungs burned, and the world around me felt far away, muffled like someone had thrown a blanket over reality.

"Irma—" Cornelia’s voice cracked. She was sobbing. “Oh, thank God... Irma, you— you weren’t breathing, and—”

My head was in her lap. Her hair fell around us like a curtain, and I could feel warm drops landing on my cheeks—hers, not mine—rolling down into my mouth and eyes.

“I’m fine,” I croaked, trying to sit up. It was hard to look at her like this—shaken, crying, her usual cool completely shattered. I wasn’t used to this version of Cornelia. I didn’t want to be.

A scream in the distance cut through the moment. I turned my head, pain spiking down my neck, and saw the battle still raging on. Will, Taranee, and Hay Lin were holding the line against Nerissa and her mind-controlled squad. But right in the middle of it all, floating above the chaos in a faint pink glow, was Cassidy.

She was suspended in the air, yelling something I couldn’t hear, wings stretched wide. Her whole body shook like she was holding the weight of a mountain, and the pink shimmer around her pulsed like a heartbeat.

“What’s going on?” Cornelia wiped her face, her voice small, tight. The air had changed. Thick. Charged. The Heart of Kandrakar was doing something—pulling.

And suddenly, I felt it too. Cassidy wasn’t just floating there. She was fighting. Not Nerissa. Herself. Her projection. Whatever piece of her had been torn away and used like a puppet. But now? Now the Heart was snapping it all back into place.

Nerissa must’ve felt it too, because her face twisted into a feral grimace. The old hag reached out with both hands like she could claw the light right out of Cassidy, but her magic flickered. Unstable. Wild.

“You... you—what are you doing?!” Nerissa shrieked.

Cassidy’s eyes opened, blinding blue. I had to squint just to see her face.

“Finishing what you started.”

Her voice echoed. Not loud—but everywhere. Her body shimmered as it went transparent, fluid. Not metaphorically—literally. She was becoming water. With one motion, she slammed her fist downward, and the air itself rippled. The moisture around Nerissa trembled like it was afraid—and then it obeyed.

Nerissa screamed. Water peeled out of her skin in thin, violent streams. Her glamour shattered—she aged in seconds. Skin sagged, hair frayed, her shrieking turned hoarse and dry. Cassidy was wringing her out like a sponge.

“Stop her! Stop her!” Nerissa screeched at Kadma, Halinor, and Yan Lin, struggling to hold her ground against Cassidy’s magic.

And that’s when I felt it—my turn.

I staggered to my feet, my body still weak, but my power—oh, my power surged. The Heart listened, it gave Cassidy and me exactly what we needed. The water in the air sang, rushing to me, in me. Before Cornelia could stop me, I sprung to my feet, and ran for the pool. I needed the water. Needed to feel it on my skin, let it cover me, hold me. I dove in.

And in the next moment—I wasn’t just in the water. I was the water.

I didn’t swim—I exploded out, a vortex, a spiral, a living tide. The whirlpool rose from the surface, my body twisting into its core, roaring like it had its own voice. And maybe it did. Maybe it was mine.

Kadma, Halinor, Yan Lin—they were lifted clean off the ground, spinning in the storm I’d become. I saw their faces, wide-eyed and stunned, as I reached into their minds through every drop that touched them, and scrubbed Nerissa’s hold away like grime off glass. When the whirlpool finally stilled, the three of them collapsed to the ground, gasping, trembling—but their eyes were clear. They were free.

I turned to Cassidy. She was still hovering in the air, her grip on Nerissa unshaken.

The witch’s face had turned grotesque—cheeks sunken, eyes hollow, lips peeled back into a frightening expression between a snarl and a scream. She clawed at her own throat, wheezing, as if trying to rip the water from her lungs.

Cassidy floated closer, her expression calm, even kind. “This ends here, Nerissa. No more suffering.”

With a final surge, Cassidy let go. Nerissa crumpled, choking, every inch of power drained from her. The monster that had terrified us for so long now looked small. Defeated.

Cassidy’s wings flickered. Her body dipped, her light dimming. Then—she fell.

Hay Lin caught her just in time, a cloud summoned beneath her breaking the fall. She landed softly, but she was fading fast—her edges losing shape, her glow weakening.

I dropped beside her. “Cassidy,” I breathed, and she looked up at me with a tired, peaceful smile. “We did it,” she whispered.

“That was all you,” I choked out, my breath finally steadying. I barely dared to squeeze her hand. She felt warm, but fragile, like steam.

Her gaze drifted past me, to the other Guardians hurrying over. And then—like a spell breaking—their forms began to shift. Kadma, Halinor, and Yan Lin aged in an instant, their youthful disguises slipping away. What remained were older women—tired, weathered, real.

Cassidy blinked, then let out a rasping, amused laugh. “Wow. Time really did a number on you guys.”

Kadma arched a brow, snorting through her tears. “Still the same smart mouth, I see. Must be nice, staying frozen in time.”

Even Halinor managed a soft chuckle, though tears streamed freely down her cheeks. She reached out, brushing Cassidy’s hair back with a tenderness that made my chest ache. “We missed you. Every day.”

“You should’ve seen them at Kandrakar,” Yan Lin chimed in, glancing at Kadma and Halinor with a fond shake of her head. “After what happened with Nerissa, they made such a fuss they got themselves kicked out.”

Halinor turned away, laughing and crying all at once.

Cassidy smiled, her fingers curling around her friends’ hands. “I missed you all so much.”

Then, with a quiet grunt, Yan Lin pushed herself up from the ground.

“Grandma?” Hay Lin’s voice was small, uncertain.

Yan Lin turned to her with a warm, crooked smile. “She needs to go home now. Back to Kandrakar, where she belongs. I’ll take her.”

Cassidy’s fading hand slipped into hers. She rose to her feet, light spilling from her like the last streaks of sunset. She nodded once, then turned to the others with a sly smile.

“I’m giving the Oracle a piece of my mind,” she said, winking at Halinor and Kadma as her form began to fade.

And just like that—they were gone.

The glow they left behind hung in the air for a moment, like dust motes caught in sunlight. Then it, too, vanished.

We stood there in silence. I could still feel the Heart’s power stirring inside me, like the faint rhythm of a distant tide. And I knew—Cassidy was finally at peace.

But then Taranee’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Wait… Nerissa. She’s gone.”

Cornelia’s head snapped up. “What do you mean, gone?”

Where Nerissa had collapsed, there was nothing left. No body. No bones. Just a wet stain on the floor, dark and glistening—and the faintest smell of rot.

“She slipped away,” I said, examining the puddle.

Cornelia cursed under her breath.

“She’ll be back,” Will murmured. “But next time, we’ll be ready.”

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