//------------------------------// // Cavalcare la Tempesta // Story: Pandemic: Stirrings in the World of Human Magi // by Corascal //------------------------------// One Week into ETS Pandemic As Fabriella knocked on the door of the Cavallo family estate outside of Naples, Enzo Sciarra reflected on how she shared everything about herself with him except for the exact reason as to why she had run away from this place, her childhood home, in the first place. Enzo Sciarra considered himself the luckiest man in the world to have been able to meet the love of his life, Fabriella Ritti. He was an aspiring painter who was finally carving out his niche in the art world. She was a runaway rich girl who had taken up a reporting gig for a major Roman newspaper. He wasn’t a particularly ugly man, but no one aside from his mother would call him handsome. She was a drop-dead world-class beauty. Meeting her was like living a fairy tale, as he reflected each and every day. Which was why, for months and even years on end, he did just about everything he could to make certain that she wasn’t just stringing him along or that he wasn’t dreaming. He asked every question he could conceive of that was relevant to them. Do you like waking up early or staying up late? (She liked both, and bemoaned the fact that she was unable to do both the same day – or was it night?) What kind of books do you like to read? (Pastoral and slice-of-life. Don’t even get her started if you said to her face you liked to read fantasy) Did you ever have a boyfriend before? (Several. None of whom she liked) Have you ever kissed another man before? (Her father – but he doesn’t count) Do you like girls instead? (He had no idea human eyes could grow that wide after he asked that question) Each time, she would answer the question honestly and in a straightforward fashion. After everything he and she had done in the fourteen months they’d been seeing each other, their relationship was always at its rockiest whenever he insinuated that she had some ulterior motive for sticking around with him. After all, one reason he loved painting so much was because it allowed to make dreams come to life. But spending time with her felt like living inside of a dream, and he was torn between letting the dream last as long as possible and finding out the truth behind it. But she had made every effort to assuage his fears and doubts regarding her. Except for tell him why she ran away from home at the tender age of 16. She had given stories about her childhood, but he noticed that it always seemed as though she was omitting key details from all of her stories. She also never spoke about the time that led up to her finally running away. He had always felt that the truth behind the girl named Fabriella Ritti lay at her old home, and whatever secrets she held were there. The door cracked opened to reveal a broad man who towered head, shoulders and chest above himself. He was also dressed to the nines in the most impeccable butler uniform he had ever seen. In fact, he would have thought the man to be some manner of foreign hire from Britain if he didn’t address Fabriella in a clear northern accent of Italian. “Lady Fabriella!” he said with joyful surprise, a smile creeping onto his features. “Signore Giovanni!” Fabriella cried, leaping forward to embrace him, which he enthusiastically returned. After a moment, the two kissed one another on both cheeks in familial affection. “It is so good to see you home again, il mia piccola,” Giovanni rumbled. “And you too, Gio,” Fabriella croaked. It was then the man remembered that there was a man right there. Giovanni straightened himself and stepped forward, effortlessly intimidating the poor artist. “And who are you, to be accompanying the lady back home?” Enzo looked to Fabriella for help, but all she did was nervously pantomime to introduce himself to the giant before him. Gulping, he looked up at the man, who gazed upon him with a pair of eyes that held deep suspicion for him and a calculating mind that was closely examining every last image of him it saw. It also didn’t help him that he was still in the midst of dealing with the flu, so standing out in the sun didn’t help things much. “H-Hello Signore. M-My name is Enzo S-Sciarra. I have been keeping company with Signora Fabriella for more than a year as a- a- good friend.” “A good friend?” Giovanni inquired, as his eyes continued to bore a hole through Enzo’s soul. “Nothing m-more,” Enzo stammered, with a nervous smile plastered across his face. A soul-destroying moment later, Fabriella finally came to the rescue: “Thank you, Gio, but he really has been one of my best friends, and he’s actually the reason I came back.” That caught the butler’s attention, as he turned his gaze back to Fabriella. “what on Earth could have possibly happened to you to convince to come back here after everything that happened?” “I’m not the one with a problem, per se. It’s actually Enzo here. He’s been infected by the new influenza breakout.” The man stood back, a look of understanding dawning on his face. “Ah. So he’s been affected by that personally.” Enzo could only watch in confusion as he failed to understand whatever significance the statement held. “Yes, Gio,” Fabriella replied, sounding gravely serious. “I only came back because I want Grande Bisnonno to show me what the Hell is up with this flu and what’s it’s going to do to Enzo.” The man looked back at Enzo, then leveled his gaze at the both of them. “Follow me,” he said, turning to open the door for them. The confusion as to the actions of the two of them caused him to quickly reflect on how he’d gotten here. It started when the latest influenza strain rolled into town. A few people got sick, but nobody was making a big deal out of it, all except for Fabriella. Ever since it arrived, she quieted down a lot, walked around like she was on thin ice, and looked around like something was going to leap out and stab her through the throat. The day that he came down with the flu was the day that she outright panicked. She then told him then and there that they needed to see her great-great-great grandfather, the head of her family, immediately. He was given next to no time to pack a change of clothes and some art supplies, and she then yanked him to her car and slammed on the pedal as they drove south toward Naples. When he asked why she was in such a panic, all she told him was that she would tell him when they got there. The possibilities as to why she was so freaked out were numerous as he sorted them through his mind. The first thought was that her family was part of the mafia, which would explain her uneasiness regarding her family and home, but not for why her paranoia was only manifesting now. The second was that she was involved with a secret scientific project, which would account for her wariness regarding the flu, but this wasn’t the first flu season they had endured together. Other possibilities included government activity, aliens, and even demons. Each was more outlandish than the last, and were mentally dispelled. His thoughts about outlandishness came back in full force as he and Fabriella were escorted inside the mansion by the monster of a servant. Just inside the entrance was an opulent foyer with rich, mahogany wood paneling along the walls, granite-tiled flooring, half a dozen doorways on the ground floor with elaborate patterns of carving, a pair of curving, red-carpeted staircases leading up the next floor, with golden railings. He looked up at the ceiling to see an immense fresco worthy of the Renaissance Masters of a sword-wielding man in imperial Roman garb astride a magnificent, rearing white horse. As he admired the fresco, he noticed Fabriella and Giovanni stop and he caught himself before he slammed into the butler’s back. He was confused at first, but then he looked down to see they were all standing on a large circle of obsidian with a golden engraving of a ‘C,’ and above it was set a Latin phrase: “Scientia sit potentia.” He then noticed the butler turn toward him, and fix his superhuman gaze upon him again. “Before we go any further, Signor Sciarra,” the man intoned. “I will have you swear on everything that you hold dear that nothing you witness beyond this point will be repeated to any of your prior acquaintances, be they friend or family. Ignore this warning, and their memories will be erased, and your life will be extinguished. So then, do you swear to keep the secret of the Family Affairs?” At those words, Enzo’s stomach sank into his €40 shoes and his heart clawed into his throat. For some reason, he also thought the room itself was shaking ever so slightly from the imperiousness of the servant’s gaze. Looking at Fabriella, all he saw on her face was a gentle smile and an apologetic look in her eyes. He closed his eyes, took a shuddering breath, and turned back to the butler to open his eyes with a steel look to meet the manservant’s. “For Fabriella’s sake, I swear,” he declared. For a moment, he swore there was a hint of pride in the butler’s professional demeanor. Then the man lifted up his right leg, and as it reached the apex, Enzo noticed a red aura seem to surround his foot. Before he could question Giovanni what he was doing, the servant stomped on the floor, and the red aura spread over the circle like a shockwave before disappearing. In the next moment, Enzo suddenly felt as if he was sinking, and soon realized he was as heard stone scrape against stone and he saw the floor begin to rise up around him. W-What the Hell is going on?!? He panicked mentally, as a slab slid into place above their heads when they’d sunk low enough. Just as it closed, rings embedded in the wall glowed to life in the dark, filling the eerie shaft with an ominous blue light. Looking at the butler, he saw the man’s usual professionalism, but with more than a subtle hint of enjoyment at his confusion. Looking to Fabriella, he saw her face morph itself to portray her feelings of anger, sadness, and guilt. But she had no fear, and there was no question that she knew what was going on. But he was still too stupefied to openly ask what was going on, so he remained silent. An entire minute later, the moving stopped, and at the moment that the lights formed an outline of a doorway in the rock, with a circle of glowing crystal in the center. Giovanni stepped forward and reached out to press his hand against the rock, the same red aura from earlier surrounding his palm and emanating onto the circle. The doorway then swung itself open, and Giovanni stepped through. Fabriella and Enzo followed. Enzo gasped at what he saw. He saw an underground grotto, one that covered an expanse greater than that of an airplane hanger. He stood at the beginning of a series of stone pathways that intersected and crossed the entirety of the large pool of water. They connected a pattern of Roman-style stone structures that jutted up from the water. In the center was a large building that appeared to hold a distinct resemblance to the Colosseum in Rome. And Enzo could hear crashing, rumbling, explosions and even gunfire from it. “Follow me, the both of you,” Giovanni rumbled. “The Master is likely in the midst of his annual sparring match and I’m sure that you remember, Lady Fabriella, that he doesn’t like being interrupted. Annual sparring match? Enzo wondered. “Really?” Fabriella asked. “But Grande Bisnonno only goes up against the strongest possible opponent who’s willing to fight him, and last I checked, none of the other Families are willing to send one of their own to risk life and limb against him for a simple sparring match, so it’s always been the head family bodyguard who’s sparred against him. You are still the head family bodyguard, right?” “Correct, my Lady,” he replied in an even tone. “But being away for twelve years has left you out of the news regarding recent events.” “So he found someone new to fight?” Fabriella asked. “He did. In fact, the man he’s fighting right now is an Outlier magus who tried to assassinate him only three years ago.” “WHAT?!” Fabriella and Enzo cried. “You mean someone tried to kill her great-great-grandfather and no one told her?!?” Enzo cried. “You mean someone was stupid enough to actually try?!?” Fabriella guffawed. Enzo did a double take at the statement, and then at the past few as well. Apparently, the family head that Fabriella had brought him to meet was her great-great-grandfather, meaning that he had to at least be closing on 100 years. And yet, because of whatever freaky things they were doing down here, he also seemed to be such a strong figure that Fabriella seemed to consider trying to kill him to be something of a very difficult if not impossible endeavor. Giovanni’s voice grew cold. “He came very unexpectedly one night. Managed to breach security without all of us being any the wiser. He actually attacked the Master right there in the family colosseum while he was training. Since he was training, no one else was in the Grotto, so none of us saw what happened, but when we all felt an explosion go off under our feet, we all immediately rushed underground to give aid to the Master. We arrived at the colosseum to find the interior destroyed, as well as the Master facing down a man in black. The assassin had a gun aimed at the Master, but he was so tired he could barely stand. The Master had won, but what shocked us was that he was actually bleeding from several wounds.” Fabriella was amazed and shocked at the short story that Giovanni spun, while Enzo was left in utter disbelief that stories like that could even be true. Such tales belonged in the annals of popular fiction, folklore, and ancient mythology; and most certainly not in the real world. Looking around, he could see a number of things that didn’t belong in the real world, from a Bond-worthy underground lair to actual freaking sea serpents in the water that nearly caused Enzo to make a dump in his pants. Giovanni continued. “You may not know this, Fabriella, but the last time the Master had even been wounded in a fight was when he hunted down and annihilated the Socialist sympathizers with the Cavallo Family network back in 1919. The last time he had been wounded in a duel was in 1808 against Franz Poirier, head of the Poirier family at the time and a full-throated supporter of Emperor Bonaparte.” “But Grande Bisnonno has been building his magical knowledge and strength for centuries! Who could possibly be strong enough to fight him?” Wait, magic??!?! Enzo screamed in his head. And then as if on cue, all of the sounds of battle from the colosseum ceased, but they continued toward the entrance. “I still don’t know the man’s name,” Giovanni said. “I believe the Master knows, but refuses to say. Based on what I know from what the Master’s told me, there are a substantial number that could beat him in a contest of raw magical power. He is also a very intelligent magus, he is very conservative with his own magic, utilizing it almost exclusively for evasive and defensive measures, while relying on strategy and enchanted weaponry for offensive attacks.” “So, um” Enzo spoke up, drawing the attention of the other two for the first time in a while. “So, what you’re saying is that it isn’t that he’s strong but that he’s smart, hard to hit, and is well-armed?” After a moment where the three processed the fact that Enzo had made a clear insight into a subject he had just been introduced to that day, Giovanni replied, “Yes, that’s right. Since then, from what sources have told us, he has since been fingered as the suspect behind more than five dozen assassinations over the next year. Another hundred or so dead as collateral. 37 of those dead were magi. However, the moniker he is known by comes from those few who fought him and lived, aside from the Master.” “What is he called?” Fabriella asked, sounding increasingly nervous. The double doors of the front entrance to the colosseum opened. The three of them stopped when they saw who was walking out in long, fluid strides. He was dressed all in black from his long coat to his boots, pants, and shirt, with a hood that cast a shadow over his face. His weapons inside his coat clicked and clinked together as he moved forward. All of this would have made for a more intimidating sight if his outfit didn’t look like it had ravaged by wolves and then dragged across a continent. But the black lightning that sparked dangerously around the figure were still more than enough to make the three step aside to let him pass. For Enzo, watching this machine of death walk by made him feel as though the man was walking over his grave. But when the figure glanced at him, he suddenly stopped. Enzo’s mind froze as he saw the man’s green eyes fix him with a peculiar look he didn’t expect. It was one that held no malice or arrogance. Rather, it was one filled with curiosity, and even abject pity. “I didn’t expect to find a normal man down here,” he said in American-accented Italian with a voice as clear and smooth as a vale brook, surprising Enzo. “But then again, you won’t ever be normal again.” He then turned and continued on his way towards where the three had previously come, leaving Enzo baffled at what he said, and the other two surprised that he even spoke to him. “You should feel honored, young man,” boomed a powerful voice from the arena. The three turned to see a bald and bearded man of clearly advanced age come toward them. He was only wearing the lower half of a ripped robe, revealing a chiseled chest and powerful arms, as well as a series of scratches and lacerations across his torso, as well as a glancing gunshot wound on his right shoulder. Still, he looked leagues better than the man who walked out before him. “The Nightmare Reaper doesn’t like talking under most circumstances,” the man said, as he walked towards the group. “He says it distracts him from listening to his surroundings.” Enzo could see the man’s golden aura as it faded away, but the sheer presence he exuded was still easily felt. The Nightmare Reaper made him feel like a sheep before a wolf, while this man, who was most certainly Giovanni’s Master and Fabriella’s Grande Bisnonno, made him feel like an ant before a storm. Enzo was beginning to wonder how much his lifespan had been shortened by being subjected to the soul-destroying gazes of three different men over the course of only ten minutes. Once the man had reached them, he turned first to Giovanni. “Head Guard Magro,” he addressed Giovanni. “Can you explain to me why you didn’t tell me the child who cost me my great-grandson and her magically-infected escort were coming today?” The child who cost him his great-grandson? Enzo looked to Fabriella, whose face was wracked with sorrow and guilt. Does that mean her father is dead? And he blames her? And wait– he said I was magically-infected?! “The Lady returned unannounced, Master,” Giovanni explained. “She has come solely to you so that you may give aid to her sickened friend.” The man *hmmphed* at Giovanni’s words. He walked over to Fabriella, whose head was lowered in despondency. “Look at me, Fabriella Teresa Ritti Cavallo,” the man ordered. Fabriella raised her head, tears streaking down her cheeks, but her eyes determinedly meeting his. “You are very bold and presumptuous to return to my home after what your stupidity and arrogance have done to my great-grandson,” the man stated. “And worse, you ran away from it all, to avoid doing your due diligence for what you have done. And now you come back with this in tow to beg at my feet for my help? What manner of fool must you be to stoop so low?” “The manner of fool who would do anything and everything in her power to help the man she fell in love with,” she answered, her voice almost breaking. Enzo felt as though his brain was about ready to black out so that he could process everything that was happening, including what the butler had just said. But it was forced to stay awake, so that he could stand with the woman that he realized he did indeed love. Fabriella got on her knees and she clutched at the man’s robe as she continued to beg to him for aid. “I will do anything you ask of me, Matteo Tiberius Cavallo. I don’t care what pain you inflict on me. But a sickness threaded with a potent curse has swept the world that no science could hope to reverse and it has ensnared my love. All I ask in return for whatever you do to me, to save my Enzo Sciarra from whatever he’s been afflicted with. Please.” For a moment, there was quiet. Giovanni watched the pair with hidden hope and Enzo with open fear, while Fabriella wept and Matteo glared. Then, Matteo sighed, and addressed his descendant. “You are lucky that I was in such a good mood just before you arrived. And your friend inadvertently brought my favorite sparring partner to speak. For that alone, I will help him however I can.” Fabriella looked up at him with joy. “But,” he continued. “You will be severely disciplined. And you will make no complaints about what the family decides to do with you in the end. Am I understood?” She nodded. “I understand.” “Good.” He turned to Enzo. “So, you are now aware of magic, right, boy?” Enzo gulped. “Y-Y-Yessir. S-Signor Giovanni already told me I can expect amnesia or death for exposing it, so I’d rather keep my memories and my life, thank you very much.” “Excellent,” Matteo stated. He then walked toward the exit, Giovanni behind him. “Now come along, the both of you. There is much to be discussed.” Enzo looked to Fabriella, who was still laid upon the ground of the stone bridge they were upon that itself sat upon the water of a massive grotto through which swam creatures out of myth and legend. But all Enzo could see was the most beautiful woman in the world, to whom he offered his hand to help her get up. She smiled back at him, and gave him hers in return. He helped her to her feet, and they walked back to the stone elevator hand in hand.