Shards of a Broken Heart (Witchfire 4)

Chapter 2 - Somebody I Used to Know

───── Chance ─────

"Hello?"

Silence crackled on the other end of the line. I was about to hang up when I heard a low whoosh, as though somebody was taking a deep breath.

"Chance, there's something I need you to do." Midna's low, rich voice gave her away. Only someone born and raised in the Incantum had that unique accent, a curious blend of dialects from every corner of the world.

"What is it?" I asked, edging away from Laurel. "Are you okay?"

"It's not me you need to worry about," she said. "You have a limited window of opportunity to get to West Side Place. Take as many soldiers and healers as you can and set up a blockade. You're going to need the whole intersection."

"What for?" I asked, rankled not only by the audacity of her commands, but the uncharacteristic fear in her voice as well. "If you're in trouble, just say so. I can be there in two minutes."

"Just shut up and listen to me," she hissed, catching me off guard. "Go to the corner of Lonsdale and Spencer Street and wait. You'll know what to do when you see them."

"See who?" I asked, my upper lip curling at the warbled sounds of shouting, followed by heavy, rhythmic blows. Were Lost soldiers already trying to break down her door? "They can't be more important than you right now."

"They are to you," she said curtly.

"Just tell me where you are. I'll come get you."

"Goodbye, Chance."

Midna hung up the phone, the absence of her voice gouging yet another hole in my chest. I couldn't shake the feeling that she had just sacrificed herself for some greater cause, but what sort of friend would I be if I ignored her request and let her plans fall to ruin? She was the Prophet of the Council of Thirteen, the only person on the planet who could steer us through the apocalypse. She knew the stakes better than anyone, had to live them every time she closed her eyes.

I stared at the wan face reflected by the dark screen, taking in the bruises beneath my eyes, the furrows in my brow, the silent snarl that was more familiar now than my smile. Not even sleep was a relief from this gnawing sensation, like I was being hollowed out a little more with every loss. My mother. My brother. My father. My friends. I felt sure the facade would crack and crumble the moment my enemies realised just where to apply the right amount of pressure.

A sigh rattled through my bared teeth, eerily like the last breath of a dying woman. I hoped it sounded more like a virile hiss to anyone in earshot.

"You're in luck," I said, turning back to Laurel. "I'm going to the Irephang skyscraper after all."

───── ☾ ─────

The asphalt was warming to the sun creeping through the clouds, letting off clouds of steam as the previous night's rain returned to the atmosphere. Tram-tracks threaded the intersection of Lonsdale and Spencer Street like silvery scars, while black ropes segmented the sky overhead, humming quietly with the dormant power of the city. A single iron fence ran through the middle of the road, highlighting the strip of concrete where passengers would wait for their tram to arrive.

No-one waited now. It had been surprisingly easy to shut down the block with the assistance of my people in the federal police force. One call had spread the false alarm of a bomb threat quicker than the plague, prompting the mass evacuation of apartments, shopping centres and restaurants. The process was made even smoother by existing roadworks in the area, as all the materials required to set up blockades were readily at our fingertips.