Accidents of Circumstance

Chapter 20: The Corners of the World

When shall I be dead and rid

Of all the wrong my father did?

How long, how long, till and hearse

Put to sleep my mother's curse?

- T. H. White

In the beginning was nothing but the sea.

One stretched and surveyed the darkness. All was not quite as One would like. The various realities of this multiverse collided and meshed in odd ways. Nothing seemed to fit, a box of pieces from seven puzzles jumbled together in a nonsensical mixture.

This isn't the way things should be. Not pretty enough, not content enough. I want to put a little bit of order into this chaos, One thought to Itself. There should be something to separate the planes of existence; the infinite realities were not meshing well, thinking they were all special and made for a specific purpose. The realities were all contending that they were not of the same substance, were different realms unable to affect each other properly. Worlds within worlds, the corners of worlds tucked into caverns and wells. What utter nonsense, what silliness. They are what I made them to be, and they are what I tell them to be.

Their wars are bothering me, One thought, stirring up the chaos into currents and eddies that bother my sleep. If they keep this up, it might trigger Uncreation. Fullness or emptiness, the end of all planes of matter is not a pleasant thing. I like to see how things play out, but not to an end such as that.

A middle ground was placed between the sidelong planes of existence. But of course, this middle ground wasn't quite stable enough as a separate plane, and it began to shimmer. Interested, One looked on. The middle ground shifted apart into several parallel and intersecting and hyperbolic planes. The middle ground was a rich arena on its own, different phases to this plane of existence. One stirred the pot a little, to see what would happen, what would be created, what would grow. This was the favorite multiverse so far, with more varying life forms, and One wanted to see it grow and develop for a while.

And this was good.

Life and death and all in between spun out from this point, the true beginning of time, the Big Bang of consciousness. It was a dance, an intricate and elaborate dance played out without any further intervention from One.

And this was interpreted as God.

The Gera first appeared in three different planes simultaneously. They were the Gera, the Imat and the Tiamar. The wizards of the Imat found the way to traverse planes of existence and to create pocket universes within the scope of their parent plane. They traveled from their plane to that of the Tiamar, and intermarried. The secrets of shape shifting, long held sacred by the Tiamar, were exchanged for the secrets of planar travel. It was an even trade in the minds of both parties, and they resolved to travel amongst the planes in search of the original plane. The original plane of existence would hold the source of magic, the origins of life and the answers to all questions ever asked.

Prima plana was the Paradise everyone was looking for.

They inadvertently sparked several wars and genocides before they stumbled upon the Gera of the Earth Plane. The Gera lived exclusively in the seas of the world, creating massive cities and wielded earth magic effortlessly. They had mapped the direction of magic, the color of magic and the threads that tied it to life.

The north carried wind and water and ice. This was the source of life, the source of water and cessation of thirst. This is blue.

The south carried heat and sand and desert. This was the burial ground, the earth's womb and center. This is yellow.

The east carried the sun's entry, the lifeblood of the forests and the source of prey. This was life in action, life in motion, life in death. This is green.

The west carried the sun away to the underworld, down into the realm of the spirits and lost souls. This is the darkness, this is the depths of understanding, spilled blood upon the ground where the sun bled for the lack of light. This is red.

The intermediate coordinates also carried meaning. The northeast, green and blue mixed together, life and death, source and action, magic in motion. Wishes come true here, dreams come alive here, magic is at its fullest. This is aqua.

The southeast, yellow and green mixed, burial and death, strength and motion, power and life. Spirits walk abroad, death can be overturned, shape shifting, necromancy. This is the mixture of yellow and green, like fruit before full maturity.

The southwest, yellow and red mixed, death and spirituality, strength and knowledge, earth and blood. Protection, energy channeling, astral projection, glamour. This is orange.

The northwest, blue and red mixed, water and blood, life and death, force and spirit. The predictive power of the Gera resided in the northwest tribe. This is purple.

The three separate merfolk species merged into one by the magic of the Gera. Knowledge flowed freely, and the Gera walked on land for the first time. Thousands of years passed, the Imat continuing their search for Prima Plana. The Tiamar grew adept at Gera magic, and soon they were a single species of merfolk. They became part of the Southern Clans for these millennia, having a home within the large planet wide sea.

And then the Imat made a mistake.

Their search for Prima Plana hit a snag in the form of other dimensional travelers. The new travelers had already conquered every planet in their universe, and were looking for other worlds to conquer. They stumbled across the Imat, slaughtering most of those tribes. The backlash was terrible, the debris large and catastrophic. One small piece of debris slammed into the planet, kicking up immense clouds of dust and ash. Creatures died, entire clans of Gera died, Tiamar were decimated. The world was plunged into an ice age that lasted for millennia. The dimensional travelers decided this universe wasn't worth their time since they had decimated it.

But life did not die out completely. Life never does. It was now the rise of mammals.

As the Gera began to slowly increase in numbers, the Tiamar splintered off into the North, becoming the fabled Northern Clans; no Tiamar were ever seen again. The Gera watched as the land creatures grew larger, more fierce, began fighting amongst themselves. The Gera took up their position of watching and waiting.

They were not the only ones.

Mortals are fallible, easily tricked beings, after all. If one of the other creations decided to play vicarious games or wars on mortal populations, that was allowed. It wasn't specifically forbidden by rules One had set up, so it had to be allowed, right? There were so many different kinds of mortals and relative immortals to play with... Why not?

At the edge of written history, strange occurrences were made divine. Those strange were made either holy or damned, with the holy being perfectly human in form, and the damned twisted in shape. Slight phase shifts were thus rendered further apart, and there wasn't a coherent middle ground population. How could there be, if anything unknown was held to be unholy, as if to be holy meant that it was good.

They said God was good, and God had a purpose for them.

The Gera know better. They could trace the magic to its source, though not as completely as the Imat would have liked. The Imat were few, and not many survived to the Modern Era. As long lived as they were, they were not Immortal.

Some planes carried those creatures, but not this one.

The last of the Imat was named Datto. She was the last of her tribe, the last of her subspecies of merfolk. She shifted to human form, a wrinkled and half demented old woman wandering the shores of the earth. Creatures shied away from her, knowing that she was somehow unnatural, not of their ilk. One of the young mortals of the realm saw her, took her into his home and cared for her. She became a mother figure. She found him able to learn magic, and began to teach him spells. She began to teach others spells. Magic flowed, learning grew, and it was the beginning of a golden age in Datto's life. She could not remember the last time she had taught magic or been honored for her knowledge.

The humans were one village. Neighboring villages joined the one village, wanting the learning and magic Datto could teach them. The villages became a town, then a city. It was a thriving place near the sea Datto first walked from. Like all cities, there were many jobs, many trades, many seamy activities beneath its silken skin.

Datto remained in her old woman's skin for centuries, watching the flow of time through her many students. She was revered, taken care of, learned from. One of her priestesses at one point asked if she could make herself appear younger, so as not to be so intimidating to the more easily frightened students. Not everyone could look into the eyes of Age and learn easily.

Datto waited until the next full moon to shed her skin and form herself anew. She became a young girl, rather like the priestess that had approached her. The priestess took it as a compliment, and undertook her devotions even more religiously. She was learning and wisdom and youth and beauty. Over time, as her magic grew, her name became Ashtoreth.

The time of the magician was drawing to a close; the true mages could feel it in the air, reminiscent of rain on the wind before it arrives. Plague arrived, a bad sign. Datto remained in the background. Her time was drawing to a close, and she could almost feel herself begin to slow to a full stop. The last of the Imat, the last of the True Imata Mages, she couldn't help but grieve. She walked to the top of a ziggurat and looked down upon the city. She helped create this, though she would never be known for it. She had wanted a reason to live, and had taught that first boy the knowledge she had possessed. It had kept her busy for millennia, but it would not be enough for her now. The magic within her was growing thin. She was almost used up.

A priest of war caught her in contemplation, violated the youthful body and broke her in pieces. With the last of her breath, Datto cursed him and all like him to a nameless horror. The curse itself never survived. The priest looked upon Datto's crumbling body and his mind shattered so badly he was killed for his own protection.

The plagues killed more inhabitants. Fires erupted. Time marched on. The banks of the rivers overflowed and flooded the city with water and silt.

The Gera mourned their fallen sister more than they had mourned the loss of the Tiamar millennia ago. Datto had conversed regularly, had visited and had been a true archivist. She had taught the Gera much, as advanced as they were. The Tiamar had vanished, and had already faded into myth at that point.

All the wrong of man and the curse of Datto did was drive the Gera underground, figuratively. They mistrusted the creatures now, no longer lived freely and openly. They no longer taught their skills to men; it was now forbidden on pain of death. Instead of elaborate ceremonies, magic was streamlined. Color and form, content and force of will. Potions, incantations, physical transubstantiation and transmutation, transfiguration and charms, hexes and spells of unknown and dangerous origin. Magic became codified, its own language, its own entity, its own study and focus of effort. Only the most dedicated of the Gera could master it, and over time it was only the elite of the clans that could even learn it. The basics were inherent in the blood, but the delicacies had to be taught and practiced.

And then we come to the modern age.

The Gera were growing smaller in number. Over fishing by humans sometimes caught mermaids, killing them in their efforts to get away. Some cultures had myths regarding mermaids and their supposed immortality, so that the merfolk began to be hunted in earnest; there are very few Gera living near Japan. The Gera were also not having many births. Of the ones that did survive the birthing, some did not survive the Age of Transition.

On the cusp of our time lived the Seer Genevieve Roberta Justine of the Jelisan clan. She predicted the rise of Grindelwald two hundred years before his birth, and lost her three eldest sons to the resultant war. The youngest married one of the few remaining Japanese Gera, becoming Protector of their realm as well. Genevieve's daughter, the eldest child, had gone into hibernation at the age of three, a sure sign of Seeing ability. The clan was joyous, as this cemented the leadership of their clan, from Genevieve to her daughter once Genevieve passed on her magic to the Clan Center.

But the girl did not wake within the year as she should have, which prompted a panic among the Jelisan clan. Genevieve's daughter had been important to the clan, and now she refused to wake from her vision. Did the girl have a bad vision that had wound up destroying her mind? Did the girl die?

Genevieve underwent purification rituals and cleansed herself close to purity. She had a vision. Her daughter needed a longer sleep for the sake of the clan. She would need to wake in a different era, when there was social upheaval. She would need to tie herself to a human clan, to the last survivor's Heir, and their futures would progress together accordingly. The Jelisan clan's survival rested in human allies.

The clan did not take the news well, but had no choice. Genevieve was their Queen, their Seer. She directed their course of action. They had waited patiently as she took two hundred years to find the proper husband, they waited patiently until she gave birth to her daughter, then until she had given birth to her four sons. Her daughter was now cocooned for a lifetime, waiting for the proper time to wake. Her surviving son, Caretaker of the Clan, was defending their territory from the Kraken. The clan had no choice but to wait.

And then Selphine woke.

The Grand Duchess of the Northwest, Duchess of the Golden Height, High Daughter of the Jelisan of the Gera, Keeper of the Sacred Vision, Leader of the Quest, Keeper of the Holy Chalice of Yarix, Defender of the Leram, She of the Blood, Heir Apparent to the Throne had finally woken.

She directed the clan back to human form, back to mingling with the enemy, but not with the blood of the enemy. The two species were too different now for that to be possible. Selphie allowed herself to be drafted into a human school, to become marked by the magic quills of the American academies. She attended Briarwood and befriended the Ravana, the last of the Ravan clan of humans marked by the Silver Sisters. The Ravan carried their mark over their skin like a shroud, within their blood like a poison. It didn't take much to dedicate them to the Sisters, who eagerly awaited their human servants' births. They were not allowed to interfere with the Earth plane directly, and thus needed agents to serve their will.

The Ravana surged with untapped power, and had been willingly dedicated to the Sisters almost from birth. This was unknown to the girl, who was desperately unhappy at an incident involving lost control. The power had crackled from her like a physical thing, and it needed to be reined in before it destroyed everything she knew.

This was the savior of their clan, this wild and willful and terrified girl.

Genevieve took matters into her own hands, and helped to shape the girl's abilities. The power of the Ravan and the power of the Gera together was potent. She couldn't see the details in her daughter's Early Vision, but knew that this potency was the fuel that would save their clans from extinction. Selphie would only smile serenely when asked by the High Council and the various nobles what the function of the Ravana ultimately would be.

She discovered the lost Northern Tribes. She broke the barriers that kept them hidden from the mortal world, she convinced their leader that the future of their dying clans was to bind themselves to the rest of the Gera as well. She showed them the current world of men, the horror and the delight, and let them chose their fate.

They chose the route to survival, and bound themselves to the Gera.

The Ravana proved to be an adept at magic viewing and transdimensional travel. She had no skill in shape shifting, or any self transfiguration. The two of three Clan disciplines were more than enough to place her at the side of the Seer, and she grudgingly earned the respect of the High Council and noble coalitions.

The Ravana spoke with the Kraken, arranging for treaties and creating new boundaries within the waters. She created new opportunities for the Gera to walk on land unmolested and unknown. She strengthened the defense barriers when dabbling in blood magic barriers; the discovery saved the Gera from a wave of disease that would have decimated the small population if not completely killing them. She introduced modern medicine and magical innovation to the clans, decreasing the death rates. Along with the friends she had accumulated, the Ravana developed several processes to alter technology so that it worked within a magic field. She helped to broaden the scope of magic within the Western Hemisphere. The magic fields strengthened, taking on a more visible shape for the merfolk; the fluctuations could be mapped and harnessed by the Gera. The old Magicks, kept hidden from all but the most elite of the Gera, were learned with amazing rapidity. As a result, the common Gera began to push to learn magic as well. The Ravana convinced Genevieve to allow lessons, starting slowly for those who showed true interest. Instead of the mass panic it had always been hailed to herald, the widespread learning only improved relations between the common and elite. The common Gera learned of the difficulty in properly controlling difficult magic, and the elite now had a common language and experience.

The wild and willful girl remained wild and willful, bending reality to the shape she wished to give it. She wanted a world where the Gera were no longer dying out, and worked to help Selphie and her people. She wanted a world where the Gera could live without fear, and established reserves for them, bolstered by the wild magic of the land. She wanted a world where magic was known, and the spread of information only served to help broaden Gera influence among the underwater communities.

The High Council and noble coalitions grudgingly respected the girl and accepted her Blood Bound status within the Gera royalty. She did not know this, not at first, not until her status was announced at the marriage of Selphine of the Jelisan Clan of the Gera to Jezun of the Keinil Clan of the Tiamar.

It is now time for the Gera to return the favor, and save the Ravan clan from destruction.

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"What does that mean, they're going to return the favor?" Hermione asked, brow furrowed in concentration.

Regina shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's just the way the story is told now. I mean, that was added.... this past June, at the Solstice Gathering. All the clans gathered together within the Barrier. It always begins with the history, and the one who tells it is honored to do so, since much of the Gera history is oral. And they added that bit about me at the last Gathering. Sel and Keiko wouldn't tell me anything."

"Keiko?" Ron asked, confused.

"Who's she?"

"Er... Sel's niece. My age, once you convert Gera years to human, I guess. Sel's brother married a Japanese mermaid after World War Two. They're extremely rare, given the country's mythology. Over there, mermaids are immortal, and you could possibly become immortal yourself if you eat the flesh of a mermaid."

"Possibly?" Ron asked.

"Either that or become a monster if it doesn't agree with you."

Harry and Draco were sitting in silence at opposite ends of the couch. "So you're going to teach us all of this?" Harry asked slowly. "All the things Genevieve taught you?"

"Yeah. But faster. I don't have the luxury of time. Well, I do, but at the same time, it would take too long. I need to teach you some things, but I don't need to go into all of the specifics. That could be later, if you want."

Only Hermione and Draco looked like they were honestly interested in learning more.

"I'm tired, though. It takes a lot to shift this many people sideways. This is like a pocket universe, you know. To envision this place, and all of you in it, takes an incredible amount of concentration and force. It's doable, obviously, but it's incredibly draining on the mind. I can tell the history, but I don't feel up to actually teaching today."

"Today? How can you tell what day it is?" Ron asked.

"Because I helped to create it. It's a part of me. This house is spelled inside and out. We were the four musketeers in Briarwood, and it was my idea to have some of my things work in a magic field. That way, I could show off to those snotty Pureblood equivalents we had at Briarwood. I can't even tell you how many record players and eight tracks we blew up. I was just lucky both my parents thought the research had practical applications. They funded it, kept on buying me stuff to futz with. And when it finally worked, we started on the house. Just little things... laundry in the hamper for more than fifteen minutes would automatically be transported to the basement laundry room. Dirty dishes in the sink left for more than fifteen minutes would be cleaned and replaced in the cabinets. Things like that, nothing serious. Just permanent cleaning spells affixed to the house. The serious stuff was added after... after I shifted this reality so that the house doesn't exist in real space anymore. Then it was imperative for the house to run on magic. Sel and I reworked everything from scratch, and everything runs on magic. No TV, since we're out of time, but electrical things still work, and the prior cleaning spells work."

"You don't have house elves," Draco said suddenly, realizing the absence of elves running around cleaning everything.

"No need for them if you have spells doing your work."

Hermione looked positively beatific, remembering her old group SPEW. Suddenly, freeing house elves looked pretty viable.

"But right now, there's more important things to worry about. I want to have all of you rest up before we begin. We're going to go through magic from the corners of the world, and by the time I'm done, you should be able to see magic flowing, too."

"You think so?" Hermione asked, awed.

"You should be able to at least feel it. Magic flows and ebbs. You just move it in a certain direction when you perform a spell, giving it something to do along the way. Why shouldn't you be able to see it also?"

Harry looked at Regina. "I should be able to track the ancient spells back to Voldemort, shouldn't I?"

"Don't you remember our first real lesson in Neo-Pictish?"

Harry suddenly grinned when he remembered. "Quilie si arum."

"Exactly," Regina replied smugly.

Every head turned when Draco began to laugh hysterically. "What?" Ron asked peevishly. "What's so funny?"

"Within me it turns. I never understood before, and it's so simple."

"The Pictish were mages of the first class, kids. They knew this shit inside and out. Lucky for you, so do I."

Snape watched the light in Regina's eyes dance. The apathy was starting to burn away, thank Merlin. She was going to teach something she obviously loved to students that were obviously willing to learn.

And now he had time to make sure Selphie and Dumbledore hadn't misplaced their trust in him. He had all the time in the world.

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