Cassidy

Carver Lawson, Special Projects Manager

Everyone has heard of the ice queen. There are countless tales of a woman with a sharp tongue and an icy heart, but the village where she grew up knew her as Cassidy. It was a small place where everyone knew each other to the finest detail. A community is exactly what Cassidy needed, but her and her family were the outcasts of the village.

Her father had left years ago when Cassidy was only 5 and her brother was just born. This would have been fine for her but her dad was a con artist. When her parents met and settled down, her dad promised to find a real job. With his reputation, the only job he was able to get was occasionally helping out on the nearby farms. Over the 5 years he gained the farmers' trust and used it to steal from each of them before leaving for good. To compensate, her mother, Joanna, picked up humble jobs of cleaning houses, babysitting, and being a substitute for the town’s school. Since her husband was dead to the townspeople, she became a sort of unofficial widow in their eyes. Cassidy had to become the new caretaker of their house, due to her mom’s newfound occupation. This responsibility left Cassidy unable to attend school until her brother turned 5 and was able to come with her. To make up for her disadvantages, Cassidy stopped in at the library whenever she had a moment of free time. She was there so often the librarians knew her personally and let her check out without the usual restrictions. In her years of independent education she stumbled upon a book about the occult. The pages were filled with herbal remedies, healing prayers, and rituals all relating to archaic medicine. The book reminded Cassidy of her mother. 

As the town widow Joanna had become a wife and mother to all of the townspeople. Through her obligations, she became more than a babysitter and cleaner and was now a midwife and nurse. She had become a nurturing force in the town and was a revered healer. When Cassidy could finally attend school she felt she was too far behind. The forgotten mystical books hidden around the library caught her attention more than any of the historical or scientific ones ever did. Soon it became clear to her that the only path for her to follow was her mother’s path. She stopped attending school and began joining her mom on her outings. They would go from house to house and she would watch as her mom tended to each person with the utmost care. Joanna had all types of patients and her experience gave her the wisdom to alleviate their pains. 

Cassidy tried to learn as quickly as she could to keep up. She studied the symptoms of each sickness and their corresponding cures. She had memorized multiple herbal remedies and decided to test them on her mother’s patients. The first she tried was a sedative tea meant for a woman claiming to be troubled by wicked spirits not letting her sleep. Cassidy made the woman a tea with herbs used for protection and relaxation and handed it to her. After checking in the next day Cassidy found that her mixture was a success and the woman was very pleased with her. The victory left Cassidy ecstatic and pushed her to experiment with her knowledge of the occult more. She started chanting healing prayers in her head while delivering a baby or preparing teas for the ill. She would bless someone’s house upon entering by dropping cinnamon behind her as she walked through the door. Cassidy even began to attempt lucid dreaming so she could pass into other’s dreams and soothe their nightmares while granting them deeper sleep. This ambition was the very thing that brought her heart alive with a fiery passion, yet it would be her very undoing. 

As time went on, her unique style of healing brought her out of the shadow of her mother. She was no longer seen as an apprentice but as a skilled healer like Joanna. Her growing recognition allowed her mother to retire, but Joanna occasionally helped out. By the time Cassidy was fully rooted in her position, she had mastered her craft. The people claimed she had healing hands and that you could feel the heat radiate from her. She was happy with the reputation she had grown, but the pedestal she was placed on attracted the wrong attention. 

During her training with her mother she had met a boy who grew fond of her, but she didn’t return his affections. The man had now married another girl and had his own family but he never forgot Cassidy’s rejection. His son was ill and so Cassidy went to heal him and give him the medicine she knew, but the boy remained sick. She told her former admirer that it was in God’s hands and not hers, she was powerless. Cassidy’s justification was not enough for the man and soon, he spread rumors. She heard that he claimed her hands were icy cold and didn’t radiate heat like they famously did. According to him, Cassidy chose to deny the little boy her gifts, as if she was scheming with death himself. 

Cassidy was unphased by the awful lie and carried on with her practice. She felt confident in the reputation she had built and she knew she worked for her spot among the townspeople. What she had done for others did not matter to those that remembered her as the outcast with a deadbeat dad. Somehow, all the effort she put in was outweighed by where she happened to come from and circumstances out of her control. One of her critics was a girl she grew up with, who lived two houses down from her. When they were young, she and the girl would play for hours outside until they had to return home. The two experienced distance though when Cassidy’s dad left town, and Cassidy’s busy life left little time for reconnection. 

Despite the childhood connection this woman was now claiming that Cassidy was coming for her husband. She claimed Cassidy placed a love spell upon the man after Cassidy had come to help alleviate a cold he caught. The truth of it was that the couple was simply having marital problems and the husband had become unfaithful to his wife. She had caught wind of this and saw her husband eyeing Cassidy one day and so she decided to make Cassidy her scapegoat. Cassidy’s successful yet unorthodox healing methods brought her the reputation and fame she desired, but it also brought jealousy. The people admired her gifts but also feared them. They couldn’t forget Cassidy’s roots and felt uneasy that a conman’s daughter had control over the town’s health. This unspoken tension between the town and her family always existed, but it became heightened by the rumors that grew as Cassidy’s reputation did. She had grown used to the consistent skepticism, but the town began to question her mother and brother about her abilities. 

Cassidy still lived with her mother and took great care of her but Cassidy was rarely at home in the daytime. So it was late when she had come back from her duties to find her door wide open. She slowly entered and saw her mother in their kitchen sitting and she was surrounded by 3 men. They were aggressively questioning Joanna about what she taught Cassidy and if she knew the “secret” of Cassidy’s gifts. Cassidy cleared her throat to let her presence be known and the men turned with guilt ridden looks on their faces. She could see it in their eyes. They knew it was wicked to question a helpless old woman like this. She let an icy glare come over her eyes and in seconds they were gone. The men may envy and despise Cassidy but above all, they were scared of her and her knowledge. She quickly bent down and threw her arms over her mother asking if she was ok. Joanna told her daughter she was fine but looked up at her with a sad smile. Joanna opened her mouth and took a long pause before telling Cassidy that the men visited her brother as well. She demanded to hear the whole story from her mom. Her brother had attended all his years of highschool and landed a successful job as a blacksmith and was raising a happy family. He attempted to remove himself from his familial ties to better fit in with the townspeople. Despite his efforts the men still came for him asking the same questions they had asked Joanna about Cassidy. He rarely caught up with his sister or mother and knew less about their lives than the men seemed to know. He was shocked and felt violated. He knew his family’s beginnings were known by the townspeople, but he had underestimated how much they reminisced on it. When the men left, he went straight to his old home to tell his mother. 

Joanna wasn’t phased by the news. She was old enough to have a clearer memory of when her husband fled town. Her children were too young to realize but for weeks after the townspeople tried to exile their family. They left rotted meat at their doorstep and smeared awful messages along her door, but she was always quick enough to hide it from the kids. After Joanna finished explaining the story she saw the heartbreak in her daughter’s eyes. At the time Joanna didn’t have the heart to tell Cassidy that the townspeople wouldn’t stop there. Cassidy eventually came to realize the people’s persistence on her own. For the next five days the men came relentlessly questioning her and her family. She simply couldn’t take it anymore. Her hands were ice cold when she went to heal others or brew an herbal remedy. The love and care she put into her craft wasn’t there anymore. How could she heal the town when it didn’t want to be healed by her? 

She started to isolate herself more in an attempt to reclaim the fire she had before but she felt too numb. She would go into the market and hear whispers of her name and see fingers pointed her way. One day she overheard someone saying her family must be acquainted with the devil and dark arts. The audacity of the lie caused her to whip her head around and glare at the person. As she stared she noticed ice was slowly forming over his lips freezing them shut. She stopped herself immediately and secluded herself to her home. The last thing she wanted to do was give the people a valid reason to see her as a threat. As her days of solitude proceeded she realized she no longer had a place among the people. She could no longer be their healer with the way they froze her heart, and her gifts could only be used for harm with a hardened heart. 

The idea of leaving her whole life behind was not easy and she began to sob thinking about it. She couldn’t bear to leave her mother to take care of herself and knew her brother wouldn’t take over the responsibility. She also wished to continue their legacy of being healers and loved the reputation she had grown. A reputation she worked years to build and was now destroyed by a week of rumors and critiques to her craft. She couldn’t stand lingering on those thoughts so she focused on her breath. As she inhaled and exhaled her breathing got colder. She let go of her family, her ambitions, and her passion and let herself slip into a numbing feeling. She focused on the freedom she would feel when she left the village for good. Taking her final exhale she let out a chilling breath that she could see clear as day. She proceeded to get up, pack a bag, and leave the house without saying her goodbyes. As she walked into the wilderness she left a trail of frostbitten flora. She accepted that the villagers had their ways and she had hers, but to them she would forever be “The Ice Queen”.

Short Story: Words for War

By: Armando Covarrubias, Cartoonist, Writer 

Out of all of the greatest weapons, mankind has ever concocted, the greatest weapon comes from humanity’s biology, specifically his voice. The human word can do so much, bring peace to nations, and create discord and war. As a humble messenger to the dark gods, I know far too well about the power of charisma, how it can be used and twisted for one's self-benefit. For my fight is not on the battlefield, but at the seat of the senate, or that is what I hope will happen. I have been going through this campaign for almost a year, and have developed a large number of supporters. And as I am still currently traveling from village to town, I plant my seeds of chaos in each successful campaign speech I make. For when I am victorious I shall reap the rewards, for my gods.

I am currently preparing myself for my next speech. I wear my finest robes and my most regal armor. Now I will put my charisma into practice. Once the seeds of doubt and discord are planted I shall wait till the harvest. For this war will not be one by guns, or swords, or fists, or magic from the heavenly fools or the sacredly damned. It will be a war won by truth and charisma. Now let us put this into practice.

——

I witness the crowd from behind the curtain chattering up a storm. To which I walked out from the curtains and towards the podium. Upon seeing me everyone cheered and applauded in glee. These people are my supporters, at least that is what they thought, but they are just pawns in my game. “Welcome.” I said, “Welcome, children of the Heavenly Father. Sons of God.” Upon saying those words the crowd goes wild. 

I continue, “I have come to witness your plight, and upon my visit, if I become elected I shall restore this country to its former glory. As our forefather would’ve wanted.” As my supporters cheered I thought to myself how foolish these commoners are. I am not lying, for our forefathers would have wanted this country of ours to thrive. I am just speaking out what the masses want me to say. I speak again, “I have heard of your plights, your cries, your lamentations that could even be heard across the globe. And why would such fine townsfolk such as all of you have to suffer?” 

The townsfolk began to shout saying things such as, “We are low on food rations,” “The inquisition took my son,” “The water is not fit to drink, ”and more things such as that. I then said, “To hear your plight with my ears fills me with sorrow and utter disappointment in the people who are supposedly supposed to be helping the common people.” I ask, “Tell me, worthy sons of God, who is the man who is supposed to be protecting you? Who is it that is supposed to lead you all like the son of man?” The masses then shouted that the bishop is to blame. In voices that sounded more akin to hungry wolves, they shouted “The bishop!” “Bishop Winchester,” “Winchester,” and so on. 

I continued, “But who is this Bishop Winchester? Is he better than the common man because of his status as a holy man?” As I finished the sentence my supporters shouted no. I continued asking, “Is he a mere mortal, a man? Does he not breathe like a man, eat like a man, defecate and urinate like a man. The answer is yes, yet he puts himself in a marble manor that makes cathedrals look like barns. 

“He gets to eat more meals in one day than you all eat in a week. He gets to drink the finest wines and juices the world has to offer, yet here you stand drinking the water that flows from his manor’s sewage system. Water so impure that even rats would puke at the mere taste of it. He wears the most lavished of robes, even the pontificate himself does not wear such beautiful garbs. He dons a massive and magnificent miter that its size can only be compared by this man's ego.” The crowd began to laugh at my quip. I continued, “He has the gall to live a life of luxury as he watches you suffer? 

He sits in his manor where he indulges in gluttony and greed, while you all barely make enough money to survive. The only thing that he is good at besides sitting on his throne like a king, is to send out the inquisition. To take away your mothers, your fathers, your sisters, your brothers, your children. All because he does not like you. So to survive to have to put up with this fool. He is more fit to be a jester than a bishop” The crowd began to laugh again. 

I thought to myself that I almost have their entire support, it is time to reap the fruits of my labor. I spoke again “So I say to you sons and daughter of the holy lord. Will you put up with this clown?” They shouted no. I asked, “Will you stand for this?” Again they shouted with a no. I then asked, “Will we let corruption seep through the pores of the church we call sanctuary?” Again they shouted no. 

I then spoke and said, “It is because of idiots who run the church and by extant the towns they are meant to lead and protect its people like Shepard’s end up leaving their herd to starve. Which is why I plan to make sure that the church has no control over the senate and to disband the inquisition.” The crowd began cheering as a wave of joy. I continued, “And to prove that I am not a man pulling strings I would like to have a little chat with this Bishop Winchester myself.” The crowd began to cheer and shouted my name, Yehudah. Over and over they repeated my name. We began to march towards his manor.

My mission was a success, I have planted the seeds of discord upon the people against the holy sees. The townsfolk will pour onto the manor like a flood. The bishop's guardsmen are prepared against these types of riots, which is why I will be there. I will meet with the bishop, and I already have plans for what to do with this pile of silk and lard. This town is now mine. You do not see any weapons on my hand, only charisma, and a loud voice. This is how war starts.

And this is how wars will end.

The Penitent Soldier

By: Armando Covarrubias, Staff Writer/ Cartoonist

 Forgive me Lord for I have sinned. I have strayed from your light and now I am broken. As I lay on my knees upon your house. As the fear of what is yet to come, an inquisitor, dressed in garbs of red, black, and white with golden embellishments, carries the book in one hand, and the cone on the other. By her side was an acolyte wearing white robes. The inquisitor looked down at me and stared into my eyes, or rather into my soul.

She asks me, “Do you have any idea of the weight of your sins?”

I looked up and responded with a yes.

“Do you know why you have done it?” she asks.

I did not respond, for I was pondering about that. Why did I commit sin? Why did I choose this life of debauchery, manipulation, disgust, and bloodshed?

She then asked me a different question, “Do you know what is to come next?”

My train of thought stopped. I looked up at her and stated yes.

“Then you would have known better than to give yourself up to the unholy gods. You chose the pathway to hell just because ‘the gods’ would have made your life easier.”

It was at that moment I understood something about myself.

She continued, “You were created in God's holy image, and you chose to become an ungrateful little brat wishing you had a different father than the one you had.”

As every word exudes from her mouth I fell closer and closer onto the marble floor until I was on my fours.

“You will not be executed, but you will be punished. Get up.” I look up at her. “Get up!” She shouted as I stood.

Her acolyte seated me onto a chair where the priest would have sat. As I sat down the inquisition gave the acolyte the book, and grabbed a key from her pocket as she put the cone on my head. It was made of iron and had a face on the front wearing a crown of thorns. On the highest part of the cone was a cross painted on the cone. As the helmet was put upon my head the interior had spikes inside. I did not feel pain, rather mild scratch. The inquisitor inserted the key in the back of the helmet.

Before she turned the key she spoke to me and said, “Do not think I find any enjoyment out of this, you have broken my heart as you did to the father.” I could hear her trying not to cry. As she held back her tears she said, “May you learn from your sins.”

She then turned the key and at that second the nails were injected into my skin - piercing my flesh, bone until I could feel it in my brain. I screamed every part of me was in pain. Every cell in my body was in torment, every thought in my mind was a nightmare, every inch of my soul felt a burning sensation more painful than the fiery depths of hell itself. I could do nothing but scream, I couldn’t do anything but scream. I lied on the floor in torment as the acolyte looked on in fear.

From what I could gather, the inquisitor turned to the acolyte and said, “This is the fate of damned. Do not dare to stray away from God’s holy light, and if you do I will not hesitate to punish you as I did to him.”

After that everything went red. I could not hear anything but my screams echoing from the cathedral. This was my penance, and I will not lie, I deserved every ounce of torment. If God is truly merciful he will end my suffering once I have entered the battlefield. For that, I say with whatever is left of my fractured mind “Miserere Nobis.”

To Kill a Kingdom

Photo source: worldbookday.com

By: Fayetta Doll, Staff Reporter

This week’s book review will be on To Kill a Kingdom by Alexandra Christo. This book left me conflicted but not because it was a concept I loved and an execution I hated or even because the prose was wonderful and the plot was lackluster. No, no, this book had an amazing plot and amazing prose…well, more or less. 

The characters annoyed me to hell and back. They kept talking about being villainous and evil and murderous and infamous, but it was a classic case of telling and not showing. I didn’t truly believe any of the character traits that the characters said they had until around page 158. That—that—was when I started to really enjoy the book. Up until that point the characters were annoying, but I kept reading because I had such high hopes due to the rave reviews I was hearing. Needless to say, I was simultaneously disappointed and vitalized by the end of the book.

So, first let’s line out the reasons I was disappointed. 

The book fell short for because it was pitched to me as a dark fantasy. Key word being dark. Let me warn you here and now, if you are a dark fantasy aficionado then you’ll know this is not dark fantasy. And you will be disappointed, as I was. It wasn’t bad fantasy. In fact, it was really good fantasy with a flushed-out world that I wanted to know more about (which was another reason I kept reading). But I was expecting something lush and dark, especially from the first line.

“I have a heart for every year I’ve been alive.”

Liiiiike. Girl. That’s something that leaves me dying to read more. The moment I read that line and heard it was dark fantasy, this book sailed to the top of my TBR (to be read) list. First of all, that line is badass. More badass than the character would like you to think she is. I’m not saying I don’t like Lira. In fact, I love her. It is a part of her character growth that she views herself as so incredibly murderous. I analyzed her character quite a bit but more on that later.

The second aspect that left me unsatisfied was the prose. It just… it was lush in some places and oh so very not in others. Also, the dialogue didn’t match up with the world. The world could have been so much more detailed and so much darker if it didn’t feel like it was trying so hard to be edgy with its foul language. The cursing just didn’t fit in with the dynamic. In books like Nevernightby Jay Kristoff, the cursing works. But in this it just felt out of place. 

Now for what I loved. 

Specifically, the romance and Elian’s narration and Lira. The main two characters were Lira and Elian, who – surprise, surprise – were paired together. But their romance was so good. I ate it up and I looked up fanart and fanfiction afterwards because it was just so delicious. Their glorious banter. Their transition from enemies to lovers. So well done. That is one of my favorite things and this book does it excellently. I can’t hype up this romance enough. It’s amazing.

Elian’s narration is what made me change my tune on page 158:

“Things were going smoothly. Or rather, they had screwed themselves into a giant mess, and I was getting closer to pressing out the wrinkles.”

One word: yes. Okay, no. Two words: yes, please. His narration was altogether hilarious once I got past the “I’m a badass murderer” act that he was pulling.

Lira. Lira. LIRA. Beautiful. She is the only exception, so far, to my “protagonists that act like they’re badass murderers are always annoying” rule. Because her acting like that had so much depth and purpose to her character stemming from how her mother was abusive and her own sirenism. Sirenism? Point being, she’s a siren.

Also: she’s amazing.

I give this book seven and a half out of ten flowers. I gave it five out of five stars on Goodreads, though. At the end of it and at the end of the day, this is a good book and I recommend it. Just don’t expect intense, genuine dark fantasy.