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Chapter One. Charlotte.

Her bicycle cut through the fog like a knife. Riding around in the mysterious haze of an autumn sunset gave her a certain rush. Excited to arrive at the autumn festival, she pedaled faster and faster yet. After all, the autumn festival was one of the most tremendous celebrations of the year. It marked when the magic of the majestic city was in full circulation. The leaves turned the brightest of reds and oranges before they gently slipped off of the trees, and danced to the ground. Not only were the leaves in their most colorful state, but so was the city. Videpolís was alive with spirit. The walls of all the houses and buildings glowed with iridescence and life, as if freshly painted. Clothes had a new sheen. Even the people were more beautiful. The normally pale became tan, their hair vibrant with color, and their teeth, white as snow.
Charlotte was seventeen, with auburn hair, and dark skin. In her right eye, a crescent shaped scar that overlapped everything she saw. Used to it by now, it affected her little. She lived in Videpolís, the most stunning city in the nation. With a large deposit of magik under the center of the city, everything was wonderful, all of the time. She had friends who enjoyed her company, family that loved her, teachers that introduced her to the real world, and guided her along the way.
Still on her bicycle, she turned her head left and right. On the left, a parade. The Duke and his wife riding on the back of an elephant, both were looking as beautiful as ever. The royal band was playing, and their shamans performing tricks with fire and lights. On the right side, she noticed six of her friends walking towards the heart of the festival in a sort of blob formation.
She whistled and their heads turned. Their faces lit up like they did whenever she showed up. The moment she stepped off her bike, she was bum rushed by her best friend, Cynthia.
“Charlotte!” Cynthia embraced her in a deathly bear hug. “It feels like forever since I saw you.” To Charlotte’s surprise, she squeezed even harder.
Charlotte began to beat upon Cynthia’s back until she got the message to loosen her grip. As she managed to catch her breath, with a grin on her face, she wheezed out a sentence. “I saw you yesterday at school.”
Cynthia giggled. “I know, but it’s the autumn festival. Everything’s amazing today. What can I say?” Everyone giggled, as Charlotte gave hugs to everyone in the group.
After her welcomed embraces, Charlotte and her friends strolled down the street, about a block and a half away from the center of the celebration. As they walked, they passed at least one hundred stands, if not more. The streets were lined with desperate but optimistic venders. Gypsies offering their fortune telling services, proclaiming their mystic abilities of their so-called third eye, shamans and alchemists alike with hand made charms containing self-proclaimed defenses and powers. Odd looking characters swallowing fire, and of course some of them spitting it back up.
Charlotte bought two necklaces. One was in the shape of the sun, rumored to guide your way at night. The other was a silver chain with a rainbow colored orb with an aurora of colors, as if the northern lights were dancing on her chest. Her friend, Alexander, purchased a sleek knife made to hang from a back pocket. On it was an engraving of a lone wolf howling on a cliff top. This symbol was supposed to give strength to the holder when all alone.
By the time they made their way to the field where all of the people had gathered, the sun had set, and there were very few open spaces left. They threw down a few towels, and a blanket, and snuggled up tight. As the shamans sprayed magnificent fire works into the air, casting auroras in shapes, telling the city’s story, the duke’s booming voice surrounded the park, narrating the pictures in the sky.
In the clouds, appeared a lovely blue and purple display in the shapes of two opposing armies, head to head. The duke began to speak. “Hundred’s of years ago, when the Great Plains were ruled by popular religion and dictatorships, a war began. After several public insults made by the Christian nation towards the neighboring Muslims, tensions began to rise. After four long years of going back and forth, the Muslims finally became fed up, and invaded the Christian country.”
The purple and blue lights in the sky quickly became red and orange, resembling a towering fire over a city. “As the ravenous Muslim army stormed through the sleeping, unsuspecting capital city, they set buildings a flame, skewing anyone they saw.
“The Christian’s would have responded, but they were unable to, simply because the entire city was dead. The rest of their country was useless without their capital city, their government, their army.” In the sky, little brown figures were shown fleeing in boats and cars, down bloody red rivers, and gravel roads. “As the Muslim army retreated, satisfied with their destruction, there was a mass exodus of the Christian country. After twenty years, some Muslim explorers went back to the area, to find ruins of a once prosperous city, covered in forestation and wild animals. When the explorers reached the old capital building, they noticed that there was almost nothing left. It was completely destroyed, a pile of rubble on the ground. However, on top of the heap was something curious; a blue flower, almost a violet color, simply growing out of the remains.”
In the atmosphere, a picture of a blue flower was painted magnificently amongst a pile of black. “The lead adventurer, Aaizim, simply walked up, and picked it. Suddenly, he was thrust into a new world. He saw people digging below the capital building, and finding some sort of vibrant aurora, and afterwards, a prosperous city, not ruled by religion and dictatorships, but freedom and a fair monarchy.” Upon the clouds, a brightly colored city was scribbled. “When he awoke from his vision, he told his friends immediately what he saw. They later dug to this aurora and found that it indeed was magik. As they attracted free thinking people from around the continent, they formed a city ruled by a duke, a duchess, and a small group of senators. The flower that sparked the idea for this marvelous city became their symbol, and earned them the nickname ‘the Blue Flower State.’ Now, four hundred years later, I am proud to be carrying on my great great great great grandfather’s city the way he envisioned it.”
As the aurora faded, the audience burst into applause, jeering with excitement and nationalism. As the royal band struck up an exciting song, the audience began to clear the field.
“Are we all still going to the party in Aaizim tonight?” Charlotte asked, partially unaware of her friends’ agenda.
Alexander was quick to respond. “That was the plan.”
“Cool,” Charlotte said as she began plotting her night, “I vote we take the train, so I can load my bike on the front. I for one do not want to bike all the way there. It’s like, seven miles.”
“The trains is going to be packed!” Alexander countered.
Cynthia then chimed in. “Oh my goodness, the train is going to smell so bad. I don’t even want to think about being shoved in between all those sweaty people.” She shivered, making a groaning noise imagining her bumping against the numerous perspirating passengers.
Hakim, another one of her friends, began to persuade her in another direction. “How about you chain your bike up here, and I’ll drive you up here on our way home. I brought my car.”
“Ah, thanks Hakim.” Charlotte began smiled and gave him and tugged on his hand. She began giggling, becoming flirtatious. “You’re just so wise. I don’t know what we would ever do with out you.”
“It’s all for you, Charlotte. It’s all for you.” He began smiling to realizing she was still holding his hand, he gave Charlotte a look of curiosity.
She then began briskly walking, his hand still in her grasp. “Well come on, I want to get to a club before it gets to crowded. My parents said I could actually stay out tonight, no curfew. I’m not missing this because you bums are lollygagging in the field.” Her brisk walk evolved into a jog, which was slowly transforming into a run. The group followed her to a light pole. Charlotte locked up her bike, and they continued towards Hakim’s car.

By five a.m., everyone was home, the streets were cleared; the parties were over, Charlotte’s bike was in her house, and Hakim’s car in his garage. The city was sleeping. Little did anyone know, that through the mist came an ill-tempered army, with one thing on their minds. Steal the color.


Chapter Two. Valentine.

In the distance Valentine could make out fireworks. He knew this meant they would be leaving soon, to raid Videpolís. The air in Morté had been thicker than usual for the past month or so. Citizens like Valentine had been hastily drafted by the army. This had happened before; Morté was not new to military drafts. Their city had earned their name. After all, the word Mort in Latin means death. The only reason this induction was any different from the previous few, was because there was no official war. As far as the citizens knew, they were at peace with all neighboring cities.
Morté was nothing compared to Videpolís. Ninety five percent of the population was poor or homeless and the other five percent had something to do with the government. The only people who owned cars either worked for the government, or owned a business, and needed immediate transportation. Almost all of their roads were made of dirt. The only stimulation their economy had were the small markets throughout the city. And to top it all off, under their city was little magik.
Valentine was a single man who, when not serving the military, lived in a small apartment, on the fourth floor of an adobe building. He worked at a tiny shack that sold traditional cuisine. He had brown eyes, light, shaggy brown hair, his skin tan, with a crescent shaped scar sitting next to his left eye. He was tall and thin, with some muscle from his brief army training. He was now dressed in customary army camouflage, with a rifle at his side.
As the soldiers finished up their final meal of the night, they heard the General over the loudspeaker in the ceiling. “Attention all soldiers; we will be loading the trucks in exactly an hour and a half. Please finish your meals with in the next thirty minutes, and keep your eye on the time. If anyone is late….. don’t be late.” The intimidating voice blaring from the ceiling cut out. After about ten seconds of silence, the men resumed what they were doing prior to the interruption.
Loyal to their city, Valentine and his friends did not mind serving. True, it did take away from their personal lives, worrying their friends and family, but it was their patriotic duty. The military was one of the few things the people of this city had to brag about. Sure, they had a mean recipe for grilled Salmon, but that couldn’t compare to the riches and glory of Videpolís, no matter how delicious their spices were. That city was rich with color; their people prospered. Few were poor, and even the poor were happy. In Morté, it didn’t matter how rich a person was, everyone was dismal.
That’s why, on that particular night, after the soldiers had driven into the city well after their celebrations had ended, they planned to steal the color from Videpolís.

As they drove their armored vehicles into the silent city, they gained hope; hope that success would ensue. The fog was still thick as it was earlier in the day; they had an invisibility cloak to hide what they were doing. After about half an hour, they placed eight alchemists on certain points on the border of Videpolís. After they had all drawn the ceremonious charcoal pentacle at their feet, they began their chant. Quietly, almost whispering, they chanted on and on. To steal this amount of color would take a lengthy spell. After forty minutes of necessary chanting, motions, and charcoal symbols, a bright light flashed in the centers of their pentacles.
After the blaze subdued, the brilliant light disappeared, in its place was something beautiful, something magnificent. At each of the alchemists’ feet was a small crystal, with a rainbow aurora. Alone the colors radiated beauty, but when put together, they were something outstanding: a diamond that glowed of dancing irradiance. As it faded in between all of the colors of the rainbow, and then some, the soldiers stared in awe. After a moment of silence, the alchemists disappeared into the shadows, and the soldiers got into their vehicles, loaded the Color into a safe, and drove away into the night as if nothing had ever occurred.
When the militia got back to their base, they rejoiced. Every single one of them was proud of what they did. Finally, after hundreds of years, Morté had something to be proud of, something enviable, and it was thanks to them. After they all grabbed a bottle of beer, they raised them high, and cried an ironic cheer. “Long live Morté! Long Live Morté!”
That morning, as the sun rose, the military leaders brought the Color, in secret, to a disclosed location; a location that even the soldiers were unaware of. As the soldiers and citizens of Morté slept in blissful comfort, the people of Videpolís woke in a state of panic.

Chapter 3. Charlotte.

Opening her eyes in a daze, Charlotte slowly rose out of her bed. She stood there for a minute, still in morning detox, and then drifted into her bathroom. After she removed her clothes, and stepped into the shower, she began to remember the previous night. She turned on the water, and as it was tumbling down from the shower head like a miniature waterfall, she daydreamed.
Everything was perfect last night, she thought. She dreamt of all the dancing, the delicious food, the festive drinks, and her friends. In Alexander’s grasp almost the entire time, she watched three of her favorite bands perform downtown in a dazzling concert. After that it was back to clubbing. They were out until four, when their feet were too tired to dance.
Becoming conscious once more, she lathered her hair with shampoo, and stared at the floor. Something was different. No gigantic anomaly, just a subtle difference, as if the floor of the bath tub had faded from a rich peach, to a watered down yellow color. Puzzled, she looked at the wall. Once a beautiful assembly of turquoise and jet black tiles, it now looked like a lazy artist had painted light blue and grey squares upon the wall.
Still dazed with sleep and her illusions of faded color, she stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and rapped it around herself, a façade of steam surrounding her. She took another towel, and began attacking her hair with it. After about a minute of violent shaking and rubbing, she put it down, and went to pull out her hair dryer. Still in befuddlement, she made a double take at the towel. Like her wall and shower floor, something was changed. The towel, once a lovely maroon color, was now faded red, as if it were a large white sock that got mixed in with a red shirt in the washing machine.
After drying her hair and applying all of her usual morning body enhancers, she went to her room. As she shut the door, her jaw dropped. It was not just her imagination, indeed not an illusion; everything was faded. Her walls, her bed, her dresser, even her clothes were lackluster. She then made a mad dash for her window. When she opened it, she found her self staring, open-mouthed, at a pale Videpolís. It was as if her whole world had gone through a wash cycle with way too much bleach.
She screamed, slammed her window, and continued screaming. She shuffled to her closet, still wrapped in her towel, and threw on a short sleeved t-shirt she had gotten at the concert the night before, a pair of already faded blue jeans, some moccasins, and ran out of her room.
“MOM! DAD! Where are you?” She was still shouting, only this time she was forming words.
A disoriented father responded. “What do you want Char? It’s seven in the morning on a holiday. What could possibly be this important?” Obviously still in bed, he showed a minute interest in his daughter’s cries.
“The color! It’s….” She trailed off. She couldn’t find the words to say. It wasn’t exactly common, for the world’s color to just fade away. “It’s all faded,” quieter now, “it’s gone.”
“Honey,” her displeased, slightly annoyed father responded, “it sounds like you need more sleep than I do. Go back to bed. I’m sure you just had a bad dream or something.” His voice began to slip at the end of his sentence, his mind slowly drifting back into slumber.
“How can you even think of sleep at a time like this,” she yelled, “this is a tragedy!”
With a mumbled response of inaudible words from her dad, she took it upon herself to storm into her parents’ bedroom. “Get up! It’s all gone! All the color is faded, I don’t know what happened but it’s all gone.” She began rambling, as her dad rose out of bed.
Her father, Kamelin placed one hand on her shoulder, looked her in the eyes while attempting to keep his open, and muttered, “What the hell are you talking about? This better be important.”
Charlotte pushed her father’s hand off of her shoulder. She once again raised her voice. “Of course it’s important. Why would I be making such a scene if it wasn’t important? Now listen to me.”
Kamelin interrupted, “I have been listening to you. All your saying is ‘the color is gone, the color is gone.” What on Earth do you mean?” He began speaking slower. “What you are saying makes no sense.”
In fury, Charlotte grabbed his arm, and angrily yanked him out of his room into their living room. “Look! Look at the walls, look at the paintings, look at the furniture! It’s not the same.” She was almost crying. At this point, she was so confused, she was starting to believe that she was just going insane.
Her father looked around at the room. At first seeing no difference, he turned his head to Charlotte, but before he said anything he did a double take, and found himself staring at the room. Charlotte watched her father’s face as the state of their living room sunk in. Their once chestnut walls were now just a light brown. Their dark brown and orange couch now bleached, all of their paintings looking as if they had been exposed to too much light inside of a museum.
“Oh my God,” Kamelin did a full circle, gazed at his daughter in confusion, and then called his wife. “Violette… come here.” There was a long pause that stated that she was still sleeping. “Violette,” he was now yelling, “I need you here right now!”
After about a minute of sheet rustling and faint groaning coming from Charlotte’s parents’ bedroom, a groggy Violette came floating down the hallway in a zombie-like state.
“What’s with all of this yelling? It’s a national holiday; nobody has to be anywhere and you twits are busting a lung at seven in the morning.” Charlotte’s mother was obviously less than pleased with her early morning wake up call.
As Kamelin just stared at his wife, Charlotte spoke up. “The color, it’s fading away, as if the magik were gone.” She sounded more urgent now. “The color is gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look around,” Charlotte shouted, now filled with rage and befuddlement.
Her mother cocked her head in slight confusion, then decided to take her daughter’s word and looked around at her living room like her husband had done only a minute ago. She stared for a moment, then walked towards the far wall. She put her hand on it and looked at it closer. She pivoted and walked towards her favorite, most expensive painting in the entire apartment. It’s colors were washed, and she gasped. She spun around and reviewed every single item in the room. She then understood, and once more threw her glance at her daughter.
After a moment of silence, Charlotte spoke for everyone. “I don’t get it. What happened?”
Both her father and mother looked at the ground for an instant, her father then made eye contact with her again after what seemed like a century. “I have no idea.” Another pause occurred, until Kamelin decided exactly what he wanted to say. “Let’s turn on the news; I’m sure it’s on the news.”
Violette nodded, and she walked over to the coffee table to grab the remote. She turned on their television and changed it to the news channel. The tiny diamond stretched across the screen bringing forth a gloomy news caster, who confirmed the family’s theory.
“If you haven’t noticed, the city’s color has faded. If you look out your window, the city looks bleached, your home’s colors look watered down.” On the screen, pictures of the city were fading in and out. “This is because last night, around five a.m. Videpolís was invaded by the army of Morté. Although it was a quiet invasion, it took a massive toll on our city. Judging by the marks in different parts of the city, experts have concluded that seven or eight alchemists conjured a spell to steal our city’s color. All we know now is that somewhere in Morté lies the color of Videpolís, in a solid form.” She took a breath, and continued.
“If anyone has any knowledge of the events last night, please contact your local police station. You will be heftily rewarded.”
Violette clicked the power button on the remote, and shut off the TV.
Her father spoke up. “You were right Char. You were right.” He began to trail off, “I can’t believe you were right.”
After a minute of silence that needed no interruptions, Charlotte left to make a cup of coffee, and then walked into her room. Sipping her steaming coffee out of a once brilliant turquoise mug, she opened her door and walked to her dresser. There was the two necklaces she got at festival the night before. She did a double take at the necklaces. She noticed that, unlike everything in the entire city, her silver chain necklace that dangled a colorful orb was unfazed. It was not faded, not in the slightest. It still glowed of iridescence that now out shined absolutely everything in Videpolís.
She gasped, and after whipping on a down jacket, raced out her front door, down the six flights of stairs to the ground floor, dashed out the door, and hopped on her bicycle.

Chapter Four. Valentine.

When Valentine returned from a late night at his brother’s house, he decided to write in his journal. He hadn’t written in it for a week or two now, and decided it would be a perfect opportunity.

October 9th, 2027
After we got back last night, we had a huge celebration. We had great beer, dancers, and we stayed up until two, all of which is incredibly rare in the military. We went to sleep knowing that we had done something important, something monumental.
When the people of Morté heard the news this morning, the entire city was ecstatic. There were parties everywhere, there was a magnificent parade that the government had been planning, and the military even got a day off! I don’t know if it was just me, but the city actually looked more colorful than it used too. Not too mention all the people in the streets looked so happy, it appeared that color was exploding from their faces.
It was great to see my brother and his wife again. It had been about three months since the last time I’d seen him. His wife was home, and made us a delicious Salmon dinner, her own version of the traditional Morté dish. As if that weren’t enough, I got to see my nephew! He doesn’t look much different since the last time I’d seen him, but it’s always a treat to see him. He’s the sweetest kid I’ve ever met, he takes after my brother. I really don’t know what I would do if anything happened to anyone in that family. They are all so wonderful, much better than I could ever hope to me, even the boy. Maybe once I’ve been discharged I can get an apartment near them; a nice place with a roof that doesn’t leak, and windows that keeps the sand out on windy night. It’s something to look forward to.
Until next time,
Valentine Laroque

Chapter Five. Charlotte.

Her bicycle cut through the gloomy air like a knife. Riding through such a depressing atmosphere only made her more anxious. Seeing the street sign signaling that she was close to Cynthia’s apartment complex, she pedaled faster and faster yet. This seemed like such a familiar scenario, only this time she was riding in such a swift state due to desperation, not enjoyment.
It was cold out now, and all though she was wearing a warm jacket, it didn’t help much, she was shivering. She began cursing under her breath about not wearing mittens, all the way to Cynthia’s building. She locked her bike to the tree beside the apartments, and walked in with her head down, her arms folded. She was too distracted to pay any attention to the man lighting up in the middle of the lobby, and he returned the favor.
About ten feet from the stair well, her unconfident drift evolved into a brisk walk which turned into a speedy jog up the stairs. When she turned the corner onto the second floor, she swung the door open and booked it to Cynthia’s apartment. At first she used the door knocker, but then grew impatient and began banging on the door herself. Under the loud knocking was a muffled grunt from inside the residence, and shortly after, the door swung open. Starting out, Cynthia looked like she was about to scream, but once she figured out who it was, she grabbed Charlotte’s wrist and pulled her into an enthusiastic, emotional embrace.
“Charlotte, this is terrible!” Cynthia’s emotions began pouring out; she looked to be on the verge of tears. “I didn’t realize how amazing it was, and now it’s gone. The color is dying! All the colors are fading away, it’s horrible.”
Charlotte’s attitude was much mellower at this point than it was too begin with. Her emotions that were once anger had morphed into pity and sadness. “I know, I know. Let’s go inside. We can make some tea.”
Her peaceful proposition seemed to go over quite well with Cynthia. They sauntered into her kitchen. As Cynthia made her way for the cupboard, Charlotte stepped in front of her, forming a sort of barricade.
“I’ve got it. You go sit down.” Charlotte seemed to calm down when she realized that her friend was more distressed than she was. Cynthia was her best friend, and she did whatever she could to take care of her. “What kind of tea do you want?”
“Is there any Jasmine in there,” Cynthia replied as she exited the kitchen into her living room. As she sat down, she got a bit louder and said, “if not I’ll have some raspberry.”
“Well then it’s your lucky day, Jasmine’s in stock. I shall pour you a hardy cup and you will be sprawled out across the floor, relaxed in no time. We can light some incense, it’ll be like a sixties hangout, only without the drugs. It’ll be great.”
Both of the girls giggled, by now they were both smiling, attempting to forget the horrid occurrence. After Charlotte poured some water into a kettle, she placed the kettle on the stove, and went to shuffle through Cynthia’s CD collection. She found the most relaxing CD in the bunch, some eastern European band. She slid it into the CD player, and pressed play.
Charlotte stayed in the kitchen while the music played. After about a minute, she peeked out of the kitchen to see Cynthia lying in a bean bag chair, eyes closed, obviously listening to the music. After a few minutes, the teapot began to scream. After a moment of shrieking, Charlotte picked it up, and poured it into two tea cups. She opened the packages of Jasmine and placed the tea bags in the cups. As the water was being flavored, she walked into the living room to join Cynthia.
“Here you go.” She handed her the cup. “It should be hot, so you might want to let it cool”
Cynthia interrupted her. “It’s tea, I know, it’s hot. I’m not stupid.” There was a hostile tone in her voice. There was a pause, both girls looked each other in the eye for a moment, then each turned away to stare at the floor. “Sorry, I’m a little testy right now.”
“It’s all good,” said Charlotte, understandingly, “just drink your tea.”
“Right.”
As Cynthia sipped her burning hot tea, Charlotte began thinking about what to say. She already had a basic plan thought out in her head. Hopefully, her friend wouldn’t find the idea too outrageous and start freaking out.