Boom!
And the world was obliterated.
It was a strange place. There was no light, but the darkness was blinding. There was no sound, but the silence was deafening. The edges of the places stretched beyond infinity and ended before they began. I’d been there for a moment and eternity. Time and space had no meaning.
Suddenly and slowly, I heard a Voice. It spoke to my ears and my mind. It was one voice and many. It whispered and screamed. It was male and female, young and old.
“Memories,” It said.
And memories came.
My name was Ashra Bendaline. I was sixty-four years old. My husband, Patrick Bendaline, had passed away the year before. I had two daughters, Cordelia and Lisa, and eight grandchildren. The country where I lived, Satray, was at war with the Lechan Empire. The Lechan Imperial Mage had created a new weapon…
And the world erupted in Fyre and Watyr, Wynd and Aerth.
“Yes,” the Voice said. “You world is no more. But I can send you back in time, to save your world from magical destruction. You will have a second chance. Do you accept?”
“Yes,” I told the Voice, and the place, called Eternity, vanished.
I yawned. What a strange dream. Very real. But it was only a dream, and I had to return to reality. I had to get up, or I’d miss the Breadman. He only came once a day. And the Waterman. They were both brave fellows; it was dangerous to walk in the open, and they delivered my food and water once a day. So I couldn’t miss them, or I’d be hungry.
I sat up with a sigh and opened my eyes. And blinked. Where was I? I didn’t recognize the place. Yellow walls? Painted walls left the Satrayan forty-six years ago, at the same time living in houses became too dangerous. And lace curtains? The Blast-Proof Houses had no windows!
Then I recognized it. I was in my bedroom in my parents’ house.
I got out of bed and opened my closet. A mirror hung on the closet door. And I saw my face.
My hair was not short and white. It was shoulder-length and dirty blonde. My skin wasn’t wrinkled and weathered; it was smooth, and lightly tanned. My eyes were the same, though: sorrowful, and filled with grief.
Except for my eyes, I was sixteen again!
I sat on my bed to think. The Voice had been real. SO why was I here? What could I do? Why was I sixteen? Sixteen-year-olds aren’t old enough to make a difference.
Of course! If one wished to become a War Mage, one joined at the age of sixteen. My sixteen-year-old self never wanted to be a War Mage. But sixty-four-year-old self wished that I’d become one.
I hurriedly got dressed and went downstairs. I just become a War Mage, and-
“Ashra! Breakfast!”
Oh dear! I hadn’t thought of this. My mother and brother had died in a mage-blast when I was seventeen. My father was a merchant, and was killed near the Licron-Vanka border when I was twenty-one. How could I face them, knowing that they would die? How could I survive them dying again?
I entered the kitchen, and looked at my family. A picturesque family in a picturesque house. In less than a year, my mother and brother would die. A year later, living in houses would become too dangerous, and Father and I would move to a Blast-Proof House. Three years after that, my father would die. An din forty-eight years, the world would be destroyed in a mage-blast.
Unless I stopped it.
Taking a breath, I said, “Mother, Father, Jason, I want to become a War Mage.”
“Ashra? Are you sure?” Mother asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
“But why?” Father asked.
“I want to end this war,” I told him. “To do that, I have to join the army. I have the element of Fyre. I am sixteen. I can and I will join the army as a War Mage.”
By the end of the week, I had joined. Mage training isn’t that hard. All children are trained in their magical element until the age of ten. I’d learned to fight in my other life. So I whizzed through my training.
After my two months of training, I was assigned to a mage-squad. The commander was Malka, and Aerth Mage. She was large, loud, and funny. I, a Fyre Mage, was her second. Leanne, a shy, quiet Watyr Mage, was Head of Linking, and Semil, a tiny, fiery Wynd Mage, was the scout.
Our main job in the war was to hit the enemy and run. We did it well. We’d get as close as we dared, and Leanne, the Head of Linking, would link us, or merge our powers. With our combined powers, Leanne would blast our opponents, and we’d run. The mage-blast would generally flatten all the tents within and fifty-mile radius, and kill anyone within ten feet of us. If we could get past the mage-shields, we could annihilate the camp, but the mage-shields didn’t recognize us, so we couldn’t get past them. But even with that difficulty, we were still able to do a lot, and we were among the best mage-squads Satray had.
Until it happened.
I was now seventeen; I’d recently received word that Mother and Jason had died. Perhaps I was so upset I was being careless. Perhaps it was must bad luck. But whatever the reason, we were caught. The Lechan tortured us for many days to see if we knew anything. We didn’t. So they put us in a tent, and went for the executioner.
Using the reserves of my power, I managed to Burn away our bonds. Semil hit the guards with a large gust of Wynd, and we escaped.
We were behind enemy lines, behind the mage-shields, and this was our chance, so as soon as we collapsed on the ground, too tired to continue, I suggested that we hit them with as big a mage-blast as we could conjure. The squad agreed, and after we had rested for a bit, we headed back towards the enemy camp.
We narrowly avoided being caught many times. It sounds like boasting, but I have to say it was mostly I; I’d had to avoid the Lechan many times in my old life.
Once we got there, Leanne began to prepare the spell. Then she stopped.
“Malka…” she said quietly.
“What is it?” Malka asked.
“Your power. It’s the only thing… keeping you alive.”
“Take it.”
“But-”
“This is our chance. Trade my life for the thousands we’ll save, and use my magic! You can’t do this without the element Aerth.”
“… Alright.”
As Leanne began gathering our magic, I bent down beside Malka. Malka had been tortured worse than any of us; she was the squad leader. But we hadn’t realized how close to death she was. She was Malka, loud and obnoxious and invincible! She couldn’t die!
“Malka.”
“Yeah?”
“When you get to the place, to Eternity, speak to the Voice. It will explain about me, and… what we’re preventing.”
“What?”
“I’m not what I seem. This isn’t my first chance at life. It’s my second. I came back to save everybody. Sorry I couldn’t save you.”
Malka looked at me. “It’s alright. And I’ve always wondered why your eyes look so old. Whenever I tell the other commanders about you, I say, “I never knew so young and body with so old a head.” Now I think I know why.”
At that moment, Leanne signalled to us that she was ready.
Malka nodded. “Goodbye,” she said softly, as the entire enemy encampment exploded.
I set a single white rose on Malka’s grave. A single rose, for a single year without her. She had died one year ago that day.
We were all there. It was the anniversary of her death, and she had to be remembered; without her, we’d still be at war. And without her, we’d be dead, or living in Blast-Proof Houses, although no one else knew it; I’d never told anyone in this life but Malka about my other life.
I backed up, and watched the people go up to her grave. There was Semil, with Leanne crying softly on her shoulder. There were many other squad commanders, who had been friends with Malka. There were Malka’s trainers and superiors; everyone had liked her.
“Are you Ashra? Malka’s second?”
I turned around to speak to whoever it was- and froze. I had never met him in this life, and he had never met me, but I knew him.
“Yes,” I said. “I am Ashra Ben- Lipiton.”
“I thought so,” he said. “I am Patrick Bendaline.”
We then talked for a while. He was also a squad commander. His right leg was not yet disabled from a wound, which was why he was still in the army. He would get that in five years. Or perhaps not; the war was over. His family was still alive and well, and I suppose they would remain that way, now.
And he was not yet my husband.
But he would be. I already knew that we would get along. We had such similar interests. And now we knew each other. All I had to do was wait.
When I’d first come to this second chance, all I could think about was how everyone I knew was going to die. But I didn’t think about that anymore. Just my being here changed fate. And I shouldn’t concentrate on when Patrick was going to die; he would die in forty-six years, and there was nothing I could do about it, as he would die of old age. I could enjoy the time we had ahead of us. Because a second chance is no good if you don’t enjoy it. I knew the bad times ahead of me, but I also knew the good times, and I could look forward to them now, and cherish them when they did happen. Because that’s why I was given a second chance: to save humankind, so they could enjoy their lives for eternity.