Everything was set in motion.
Janine
was sitting in her standard spot in her favorite coffee shop, one that was
privately owned and had a new premium roast each week. At the moment, she
sipped a brilliant dark specimen from Ethiopia, letting the aroma tingle its
way to her brain. A faint red smudge was left behind on the white Styrofoam.
She had chosen
this shop as her favorite about a month ago, when she had returned to the city
after traveling extensively around the globe. The weekly blends reminded her of
those far-flung places, each scent connecting her with different questions that
had burned inside her awaiting an answer. The shop also had the added benefit
of being at cross-roads, one of which led to her eventual destination.
When her cup sat
half-full, she took a pause from her thoughts to look at her phone. Taking note
of the time, she pulled out a small compact mirror to check her make-up. She
used her left hand to brush her raven hair, feeling the bounce of the strands
brush lightly against her shoulders. Perfection, as always. She took another
drink from her cup; the coffee had cooled enough that the drink ran long and
deep. Finishing, she closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and waited. For a
brief moment, she stroked the small pendant with the red jewel she wore around
her neck on a silver chain.
Within moments,
the sound of a not-so-distant explosion rent the air. Ripples from the
shockwave ran through the other patrons’ cups, and several sugar shakers toppled
over, spilling white granules across the tabletops. Amidst the cries of
bewilderment, Janine smiled and stood, straightening her maroon blazer and
matching skirt. She left her drink unfinished on the table and left the shop
for the last time.
Stepping outside,
she could feel the air swelling with panic. People had left their cars and
stood staring up into the skyline. Some had pulled out their phones, taking
grainy pictures of the unfolding events. Sirens had started to wail, gearing
the city up for more chaos. The smell of fear was as sweet an aroma as her
morning coffee. Her brain tingled with excitement as her purposes became
realized. Her contacts had come through. Moving with purpose, she weaved her
way through the growing crowds towards her destination.
St. Paul’s Chapel
had been built a decade before the city entered into American Revolution. Over
the last century, columns of iron and steel had risen around it, two in
particular standing high above the rest. At least for the moment. Glancing up
at the imposing pillars, she was pleased to see the grey smoke billowing out
from one of the two was still infused with hues of orange and red. The camera
crews would soon be in place and the chaos and fear of an entire nation would
be brought to bear. She paused for a moment at the solid wooden doors, then
pressed them open and walked inside.
Near the back of
the church, an ornate wood panel stood in a recess of the wall. Janine reached
out, touching a carved shield engraved with a fleur-de-lis that sat at about
eye level. She whispered an incantation that she had obtained after a rather
tortuous trip to Moscow. She could still smell the acrid scent of the
electricity that had surged through the man’s body as he screamed out the
forbidden words. It was too bad he had been attractive; the world could have
used his chiseled features. The whispered words triggered a mechanism behind
the panel and it swung open with a pop, revealing a passage that plunged down
into the earth. She stepped inside, the cool air brushing against her ivory
skin. She removed a small pink Maglite from her blazer pocket and let the panel
click closed behind her. With a flick of her thumb, she turned on the
flashlight, a cone of light pointing her towards where she needed to go.
Checking her phone for the time, she noted that even though she was on
schedule, she would need to walk briskly to get down the tunnel in time.
As the passage
dropped into the earth, the stonework that made up the walls became grimier and
covered in thin roots. At the end of the tunnel, she found herself at the
entrance to a large circular chamber, deep under the very heart of the city.
Around the perimeter, small round stones had been placed at eye level. She
pressed one close to her, and it started to glow green. At the same time, a
similar emanated from the other stones. Within seconds, the chamber was awash
in a green glow and she was able to behold the destiny she had been working
towards for many years.
At the center of
the chamber, a great tree grew anchored both by the roots below and the ceiling
above. In fact, the roof of the entire cavern was made up of the branches of
the tree as the morphed from wood to stone. Near the base of the tree, a pair
of roots had risen out of the earth and had joined together to form an
arch-way: a beautiful doorway for which she had searched for most of her life.
Afraid to pause and miss the moment, she swept her way into the chamber.
Something dropped
out of the branches above, landing in front of the door with a soft thump. A
small cloud of dust rolled away from the hooded form. Raising a hand, it spoke
in a deep human voice.
“You have no true
business here. You will not be allowed to pass through the Gate.”
Janine did not
respond, but waited for the moment to come. At precisely 9:03 (perhaps a minute
later than anticipated), the earth shook around them and dust rained down from
the ceiling. Janine could just imagine the boom and crash that would have been
heard in the world above. Not just in the city, but it would have been heard around
the entire nation as the news networks would have already been filming the
situation that had happened a little over 15 minutes before. And then, she felt
the surge of fear and chaos. A flash of red came out of the red jewel that she
wore, its glow washing over her in ember colored waves. The space that made up
the root-doorway started to glow as well, a deep purple that was dotted with
starlight.
She smiled. It was
time. “Sir, I would suggest you get out of my way.”
The man raised his
left hand to the hood, pulling it backwards away from his face. Fierce blue
eyes and a firm set scowl met her gaze. “A Dragon never backs down.”
Janine gazed at
his light olive complexion, wondering what it would look like bruised, battered
and torn asunder. She imagined he would look rather dashing with a scar across
his cheekbone, almost as stern and majestic as his follow Dragon that she had
broken in Moscow.
“I have destroyed
your comrades who stood against me so far. Do yourself the favor and save your
pathetic life.”
His eyes hardened
and he gazed steadily into her eyes, avoiding the pulsing red glow from her
pendant. She could the energy rising in the room as he visibly flexed his arms.
“Never.”
“I thought so.”
Focusing the fear
and chaos captured within the pendant, she concentrated on the Maglite she
still held in her hand. She willed the chemicals within the battery to fully
react, sending a surge of electricity through the circuitry and into the bulb. Overloaded,
the bulb exploded and she wove the escaping charge into a bracelet of energy
around her wrist and forearm. She dropped the spent flashlight and then lunged
forward.
The Dragon
reacted, stomping into the ground, raising one of the floor-stones into the
air. In one swift motion, he punched forward and the stone rocketed towards
her. As she moved forward, she lifted her electric arm in front of her and
pushed her will outwards. A surge of lightning pulsed from her fist, striking
and shattering the stone. A few of the pebbles struck her across the face,
leaving tiny pock marks in her foundation.
And so their dance
began, he with stone and a sense of duty and she with electricity and the
stench of fear. Back and forth around the chamber they moved, she trying to
dislodge him from his post in front of the Gate, and he trying to withstand her
onslaught of chaos. She could feel the fear of the entire city flowing through
her; her plan to bring a city and nation to their knees having transpired just
as her masters had said they would.
Her moment came as
she was able to reflect a bolt of energy off of one of the stones the Dragon
had thrown up in defense. It glanced off his shoulder, spinning him around a
full circle before crashing him to the ground. She had the thwack of his skull
against stone. She paused a moment, brushing the dust off of what was left of
her shredded jacket. She brushed the wisps of her hair away from her eyes,
smiling. There was the Gate, her doorway to what would be her ascension.
A grunt came from
the direction of the fallen form. Amused, she turned just in time to see a
stone whizz past her face. She laughed at the man’s continued effort to
incapacitate her.
“Looks like you
have lost your aim, Dragon,” she scoffed.
He looked up at
her, blood streaming into his eyes from a large gash on his forehead. “It’s
only you who has lost.” His eyes closed and his faced dropped to the ground.
Janine heard a
loud pop behind her and she turned quickly back towards the root archway. And
then, she saw what the Dragon had meant. The stone he had shot out had sliced
clean through one of the two raised roots, severing it from the connection it
had made with the other side. Purple sap oozed from the broken half, and the
gathering mist in the doorway had dissipated. It was no longer a doorway to the
other realm.
Enraged, she
lashed out with her every emotion at the still form of the man. Arc of
lightning lifted his body into the air, slamming it against walls and the
ceiling up above. Not satisfied, she poured out every ounce of emotion into her
rage. Even her tears turned into balls of electricity, coursing down her face
and into a chaotic storm around her. Current poured through her and into the
very tree that had stood as a guardian of the city for centuries. And it began
to smoke and burn.
Branches above and
roots below ignited in a purple flame. The ceiling creaked and groaned as the
supportive branches gave way. Janine’s every instinct was to run, to leave this
doomed place. But Chaos held her in its thrall, the red jewel on her chest
burning bright. As the stones began to crash down, her vision faded. Her last
memory of the tree covered in flames, flames that matched the two towers of
steel that creaked and groaned far above her.
***
After
the collapse of the towers, police and rescue workers worked the area to find
survivors of the major catastrophe. In the nearby church, they found a woman in
work attire passed out among the pews. Her disheveled manner and scorch marks
across her body and clothes led them to assume she had one of the lucky few to
escape, probably looking for refuge in a house of God. She had no
identification on her, so she was labeled as Jane Doe and taken to one of the
nearby hospitals that were already bursting at the seams with activity.
Amongst the chaos
of the event, no one noticed the following day that Mrs. Doe had disappeared.
