Three Cursed Gods

BEFORE : PART ONE

Who was Linda? 

Ah, that's a good question. Who was she?

Well, first, how do you say what someone is? Are they their thoughts and opinions or their words and actions? Are they the impression they left on people, or the impression they left on the world? And when they die, are they gone forever, nothing but dust and bones? Or do they live on, through memories and stories told by the ones that knew them—the ones that loved them the most?

Well, in Linda's case, the one who loved her most was McKayla. Cameron too, I suppose, but his story comes later. Linda was everything to McKayla. They were the best of friends, they did everything together, they—

Wait. I'm sorry, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here. Let me backtrack a bit. Where should I start? Hm. Let's see.

Ah yes. I know.

***

McKayla was six the first time she saw past the Masquerade. She'd been at school, the children just let out for recess onto the blacktop, where they ran around screaming and shouting, playing nonsensical games without rules or rhyme or reason.

There was a small forest on the edge of the school property. It was often visited during science classes, when the teachers were too tired to teach a proper lesson (public schools require more funding than they recieve) and so they let the children loose to identify leaves or flowers or some other facet of nature. Going in there during breaks was banned, but that didn't stop McKayla from venturing inside, to satisfy her own curiosity.

She was always a loner that one. More content to stay inside her own head than interact with others.

What she didn't know though, when she entered, was that this wood was no ordinary wood—it was a place of magic. Long ago when the gods had roamed this world, there had been places that had responded to their power better than others, called Doorways. When visited, even Ordinaries could sometimes see some magic in play, but their mortal minds wouldn't be able to comprehend the phenomenon. This small wood next a school in the middle of Brooklyn just so happened to be one of such places.

(Of course, when the gods disappeared, so did most of the place's power. But it was still there, still alive, still waiting.)

As McKayla wandered through the shrubbery, the wood watched and waited. It had been so long since it had had someone of magical blood visit it, and naturally, it was curious. As she made her way through the thick trees, branches lifted, vines parted and roots scuttled subtly out of the way of her footsteps. McKayla, being six years old, didn't notice, and thought it the natural behavior of the organic world.

It was only when she reached a small clearing that she remarked on the silence surrounding her, as if the whole wood was holding its breath. She slowed her step, her gait changing from casual curiosity to vague alarm. Where did all the noise go?

She looked around, spinning in a slow circle, trying to catch whatever was so off about this place. There was nothing at first, but then—

There!

Between two trees on the other side of the clearing, there was a shimmer, a rippling of the air. She saw a flash of pinks and blues and greens and purples, briefly there and gone.

(What she'd seen was an enchantment put in place by the ORDER, on all the registered Doorways to stop Ordinaries from becoming aware any loose tendrils of magic. Of course, McKayla didn't know that, so to her it was a threat rather than a protection.)

McKayla turned on her heel and fled, crashing through the vines and branches, not caring when they scratched her face. The wood, desperate for magical activity, tried to bar her way back, but through her determination and sheer willpower, she burst out of the wood, skidding onto the blacktop where she stood heaving and panting.

The other students stared at her, taking in her ragged clothes, her arms and legs covered in nicks and grazes and her wild-eyed stare. They became more alarmed when she started screaming, speaking of magic and silent wood and ripples and colors bursting in the air, and finally, one called for a teacher. It took hours and hours and a call to her parents to calm the girl down, and longer still to get a coherent story out her.

When she finally stilled enough to speak, the adults laughed, because she talked of magic and enchantments—as if they exist! They chalked it up to shock and the overactive imagination of a young one and paid no heed to her words. And no matter how much she tried to convince them otherwise, they were firm in their beliefs, chiding her gently for her fantasies.

The children were nowhere near as kind—they mocked her and shunned her, because it wasn't bad enough that she was an adopted child and had skipped a year, but now she was crazy as well! It's probably why your real parents didn't want you, they laughed. And so, she was alone like before, but this time, it was no longer by choice.

It wasn't the last time McKayla saw oddities such as this, but she learned not to speak of them. It just gave the adults one more reason to scold, the children one more reason to laugh. And so, she moved through the world like a wraith, alone and forgotten, leaving no impression or mark on the people around her.

Until Linda came.

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