Pillars

The temperature dips.

As Max waves his hands like a conductor, shredding the alloy walls into needles with a teeth-shaking screech.

The near-infinite arrows raged at the magi surrounding us, killing the troops approaching us without mercy.

Reaching with my magic, I slowly pulled my army from the earth.

The haze of the snowstorm cleared as basilisks made of stone and metal swallowed their targets.

At the same time, a squad of magi above rises a wave of white flames that stomps down on us.

The hidden basilisk beneath us surfaced in a wave of blinding snow.

The metal scales bloom off the construct before cutting through the air and creating a barrier to block the blast.

The scales reddened like the sun.

I have no desire to open a portal and signal my location to every Sorcerer on the plant, but we need to escape now.

So I reach out, drawing in power from the few places of authority that have earned my respect.

Like sand, the power slips from my will like an incomplete philosophy.

The feeling of damping rattled me.

Ms. Storm countered; a swell of wind shatters the squad out of the sky, only for the blizzard to roar to life, taking on the form of a swirling colossus and grappling the wind.

A thrust summons a wand into my hand as another squad attacked like white falcons.

As they flew in the air in complete coordination, spells discharging like cannonballs chewing away at the earth.

The spells came in a rainbow of hues, Dolohov curses, blood malediction curses, a stream of cursed ice, ear-shriveling curses, expulso curses, and flagrante curses.

Taking care to leave the spells that anyone can block with physical objects to Max.

My shields, unyielding, absorbed the first wave.

Shouting over the whipping wind, Max demands," PLAN!"

"UP!" I scream.

"EVERYTHING UP!" I couldn't keep the strain out of my voice as the second onslaught of spells hit.

With sluggish movements, my army of basilisks begins snapping trees and launching them at the enemy.

Max, no, Magneto raised his fists as half of the army of metal serpents slithered into the sky, wrapping and twisting around attacks.

As I grab Charles', the frostbitten group claimed the nearest golems head.

I spare a thought on recovering Sabertooths body, the man was a monster but one I had gone to war with.

Then I felt it, power the likes found in few souls.

I look over to the woman rising into the air with me; the feeling of lighting runs up my spine.

Her eyes were white, softly radiating with mystical power, her arms out wide as the snowstorm froze.

Her voice was barren," I got this."

She was power without direction, a hurricane attacking without supervision.

As we ascended into the sky, my sight was blinded as the battlefield became lighting, snow, and blood-flavored wind.

The tang of tears on my tongue had me check on our youngest companion.

I had almost forgotten about Logan and the abomination hiding in his claws.

This child should be, No! would be home and playing with friends just as soon as I finish eliminating these victims.

Charles raged filled cry drew me back to the fight.

My mental defends fractured with the sound of broken ribs ringing in my head.

Shifting, I spotted Mystiques trying to stop Ms. Storm from bleeding to death.

The left side of her body was in ruins, skin removed and dark green vines encompassing her face.

Charle's next attack stole my ability to think.

Pure emotion shooting too swiftly to handle conquered me.

The relief of passing the top of the wards supported my mind, and I sent a heavy mental blow at Charles.

His psychic energy lifted, and I drew in power, creating a portal, leaving a small army of unconscious magi to fall to their deaths in the snow.

-3 am-

I need a drink.

The last few hours were painful.

My skills as a healer are mediocre; aside from fixing up schoolchildren and emergency medicine, I was mainly useless.

Reaching down, I lift a trunk, a gift from Charles', into the back of the blue Mazda RX-8.

Apart from helping with Ms. Storm's injuries, novel vine-like scars migrating from chest to head, growing slowly as they feed off her magic.

None ask for my help.

While I was not an expert in healing magic, I did understand the fundamental five pillars.

Unfortunately, because of the first pillar, a simple finite incantation would not work.

The pillar read, "The further intruding on the underlying magic, the more drastic the consequences will be."

This meant that trying to cancel it would have dire results because of the self-sustaining nature of the illness.

Fortunately, the answer lay in the second pillar of healing.

Healing magic requires a higher or lower ritual.

All scepter witchcraft, by their very essence, implied lower ceremonies or, put clearly elemental magics.

Wind, electricity, water, earth, and fire every lower ritual had each of these components.

The reason a spell needed wand movements was because of wind generation. It is also the primary purpose behind why children are instructed to say their attacks out loud.

The secondary reason being to help the 86 billion neurons generate more electrical particles.

The lifeblood in arteries typically fulfilled the water elements, whereas wood in the wand and the ground under your feet satisfied earth.

The average heat produced by flesh met the fire portion.

Lower rituals are extensively used because they are reliable and, well, safer.

Most children with a hard time with magic simply suffered from an imbalance of the lower tier elements.

Higher tier rituals had a minimum requirement for a perfect balance of space, mind, reality, power, time, and soul.

This tier of magic anticipates that a master will do it correctly, or the first pillar would take influence, with no room for error and very little room for experimentation.

So all I could do was treat the signs and symptoms.

I would have preferred to call in Pomona, and Poppy but the school year had just started.

Besides, I had many skilled students that couldn't have afforded higher education without a patron.

A few letters and Ms. Strom would have the best help I could get discreetly.

Given that I am a fugitive, discreetly was the best I could do.

As implied, I had no place in a school full of children.

Our argument waking those children also did not help matters.

I may have gotten carried away again.

Midway through blaming me for Ms. Storm, my refusal to answer questions on the threat Logan and I faced, never mind Charles attacking my mental defenses in combat, an old argument surfaced.

Ten years ago, I made a drunken mockery about having Charles in the White House.

After ten years, I was dead set on seeing him in power.

Thanks to my natural skill in geomancy, I drowned Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with gemstones.

One school became two, then five.

Last year he opened a school somewhere in South America and is currently in talks to open one in the U.K.

While it is true that money can't buy you happiness, it can sure as hell buy you the opportunity for happiness.

A ticket to the theater next to the right people, an invitation to a fundraiser, a seat in the right restaurant.

Years of work and Charles played his part perfectly, but instead of becoming President, he is uselessly the Secretary of Education.

I could see his plan, he was making outstanding gaits for the mutant rights movement, but time was limited, as is my patience.

Threatening to cut his funding was a mistake, made in anger. The world would be a much better place if every just did as they were told, by me, of course.

Making my way to the passenger seat, I get into the tiny vehicle thanks to some spell work with a poorly matched wand.

With a mumble, Logan starts the car as we pull out of the driveway.

Whatever pains the last living succubus will have to endure, Charles can handle them.

As for my traveling companion.

It took my word to answer all his questions after we were away from the mind reader and someone else's car to get Logan to agree to come with me.

"So, where are we heading?" Was the first clear communication Logan said all day.

Taking my time to think of the best option, I didn't really have a choice.

"Nevada." I reluctantly answered.

Logans mocking smile resurface.

"So this unspeakable creature of yours there?"

Clearing my thought so as not to think of the creature, I answered, "No, but I need my tools back to get to his prison."

"So, where are your tools being held?" As Logan extended the O in tools to show disrespect, I smiled.

"Area 51, the headquarters of the Magical Congress of the United States."

-2 days later-

Did this girl really hide in the trunk for two days? And did Charles put her up to this?