Page 117 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

Thursday, game day.

Saturday, make a move.

Gentri said, “The game ended overnight. Then there were demons. Then we all had to move rooms. Then more demons. Other covens coming. Vissimo and Luthers. A mating ritual. When does it all stop?”

“There’s a lot,” another Fertim member agreed.

And I was seeing a trend. No one from Vero had spoken. “Is there a bad feeling from the players who were in Fertim in general?” I asked.

Another silence. The telling kind.

“Caves was used by the demons to get to us,” Serene spoke again. “We understand that. Also, the way things ended doesn’t sit right. There was no end, and there’s only been uncertainty since. Not that you’re to blame for the demons attacking.”

“I hope this coven will feel more certain as we get a better grasp of our position against the demons. And if you’ve thought of a way to bring Fertim and Vero closure, then I’m open to ideas.”

“Start the game again,” Bedwyr called from Frond’s tables.

His suggestion was met with a dumbfounded outbreak of stares. Bedwyr colored, but someone else in the coven agreed.

“Not weekly like before, but maybe monthly,” a Vero member said this time.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. They wanted to play that fucking game again? Were they utter idiots?

“The game was a large part of who we were,” Sage called. “You feel like you’ve lost part of yourself since your quipu was burned. I feel that to a lesser extent from the loss of the game. I know not everyone does, and that some are relieved the game is over, but not all of us think that way. Caves was part of our identity, and I do feel a small bitterness that the game was taken from us without ending or our choice.”

I may not feel as they did about losing the game, but I could tell they felt what they did. I struggled to put my opinions aside as I said, “Considering the demons use the game to feast on us and grow stronger, aside from making the game less regular, what are the ideas on how to counter that effect?”

“Mix up the teams,” said Ruby.

There was an outcry at her words, though they made perfect sense to me.

She met the gazes of those around her. “If your argument is that you’ve lost the routine of Caves and therefore part of who you were, then the return of the game in any capacity should be enough. If you disagree with the teams being mixed, then you admit that it’s more than the game that you wish to have back. You want to go back to us versus them despite how it threatens the entire coven.”

Sage had a ready reply. “The closure of the game meant something to me too. I want to know who would’ve won.”

Vero, I wanted to say.

The volume increased as discussion truly opened, and I contemplated the two defined sides in the coven. Not Vero vs. Fertim, really. The new teams were game versus no game. Some magus wished to regain the semblance of normalcy without giving new normalcy a chance first. They wished to cling to the only life they’d ever known. There had been a lot of change, and the last two weeks had been hard on everyone. Yet to restart that which gave the demons more power? That was pure idiocy, and it wasn’t just me who felt that way.

The two opinions were on extreme ends of the spectrum. How to find a respectful solution for all that didn’t endanger us?

The back and forth between coven members came to a natural lull.

“I see two very different opinions from magus here,” I told them. “I feel we can find a solution that’s fair to both sides, but it will take thought. While I intend to explore solutions with my advisors as a matter of importance, I wish to be clear that there’s an immediate threat this coven faces that comes above any desire to restart Caves. In time, once we feel prepared—which I hope comes sooner rather than later—we’ll revisit this topic.”

That might give those clinging to old routine incentive to relax into our new ways. Maybe those feelings of uncertainty would fade enough for them to see the dangers of the game.

The coven mostly seemed accepting of my words.

“Thank you for your honesty,” I said, hit with a sudden pang of guilt again at my lengthy list of secrets.

Berry shot to her feet. “High Esteemed?”

“Yes, Berry.”

“I’m sorry about your quipu. No one in this coven, no magus, had the right to do that to you.”

I nearly did the very thing I’d managed to avoid thus far. I nearly cried. My voice was hoarse. “Thank you. Your shared sorrow means a lot.”

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