Fillory and Further: Book Six 1/2 The Beast Cometh #BattleTheBeast

Prologue

Seeing as my beloved Jane has made her own little story, I have decided to continue the age old tradition in writing this manuscript. Ah, but where are my manners? My name is Martin Chatwin, the eldest of my siblings and the most powerful magician of all time. I have slain gods, drank from the Wellspring, and my most shining accomplishment of all is the killing of Quentin Coldwater a total of 38 times. The murder of children is not the achievement, of course, but the acknowledgment of the time loops that my deranged sister has put us all in. One day I will find her and...

Alas the time for dear Quentin is coming to a close yet again as I walk these halls with quill and paper in hand. Somehow, it is always he who continues to be a constant annoyance to my goals, and to Fillory, and his rousing speeches to the others makes for a horrid night. The pieces are not always the same, of course, but they still have a level of consistency. A blonde, an upper class-man, Quentin, Julia- I believe her name is, Penny-dear, and an interchangeable girl who's name I cannot put my finger on at the moment.

While the traveler stays the same, it is easy to kill him with a quick thought. This time I am thinking of taking one of his hands away, gentle reader. The last time he was rather bold, took a hold of me and transported us into a live volcano. The precious lamb had not an inkling of my own abilities to travel between earthen planes. His screaming did not last for long as his body burned, but oh it was such an inconvenience!

Julia's death is less gratuitous, I must say. Usually it is a simple snap of the neck and it is all over. She has such hidden magic but refuses to tap into it even throughout all of the timelines. Sweet Jane continues to change small aspects about the girl's outcome, but it always ends the same: Julia crying over Quentin's body before her own death comes. She has an aptitude I have not seen before but in me, yet she has no will to use it. Eventually, I am sure, I will soften and perhaps invite her to play in the blood of her friends with me. She strikes me as that type of person anyways. (Ah, I almost laughed myself to death with this revelation, gentle reader. Let us continue.)

The others are meager things. Their deaths come quickly but not soon enough, I'm afraid. It is rare they even have time after the third loop to learn battlemagic, as I am so very cruel. I do not kill the others fast and instead let them savor the deaths of their comrades and lovers. Conceivably it is because my shade is gone, moreover it could be my fanciful mind pondering if their next self would feel the carnage deep in their bones. Time magic is a hell of a thing and the concept of future selves, even subconsciously, feeling the ache and fear of their previous psyche is fascinating. If I were on talking terms with Jane, my answer might just be answered. But between you and I, if I were to ever get a hand on my sister again I would probably take her life brutally and without mercy.

Screams are resounding again. I have continued to write this manuscript with a small spell so that my hands are free to do their work. This school, Brakebills, is most beautiful. If it were a different time, a different place, a different person, I believe I would care to come here. The students learn nothing, it would seem, as all run in fear or take too long to shoot off rudimentary battle magic. The air cracked all about me as I flung lightning from my hand into the rib cage of the upper class-man usually accompanied by Coldwater.

"Elliot!" someone screams from the table barricade. A brunette jumps from safety and catapults her way towards her friend. Her skidding body greets his departed one as I quickly dematerialize the mound of flesh protecting her beating heart from the rest of the world.

Someone else screams but I cannot see where it comes from. I quickly step forward with one foot, then the other as if in a dance, my moths covering my face from all to see as the monster travels down the halls. The children have gotten smarter the 39th time around, I will confess. One moment I am dancing towards the barricade, and the next my entire body is frozen in place. It came as a shock, the total immobilization of my limbs, and I resign myself to be at the mercy of a chanting Quentin Coldwater who appears from behind the wooden tables. He is accompanied by Julia, her incantation slightly muddied yet strong, and a blonde who looked like she wished to be anywhere but here.

The children come closer, slowly at first but faster as they see I am incapable of movement, and try to speak. They wish to make a deal of some sort, though to be honest I am not listening. I smile as I feel the twitch of a finger, then another and another, and Quentin is still babbling on about a deal. Julia is dealt with first, her voice cutting off as I begin choking her slowly. Her incantation was bespattered with inconsistencies and therefore it was the easiest to breach. It was all over from there as the boy stopped to try to help his friend which left the blonde to pick up all of the slack.

My frozen limb thawed swiftly after, allowing me to bring it down in a chopping motion which left a bloodstained mark on the blonde's torso. Quentin looked between both women, one already dead, one with her eyes glossing over in suffocation, and then back to me. He seemed as if he was about to cry, can you believe it! It was of no consequence when his anger got the better of him, his eyes still brimming with tears, as he lunged at me. It was over quickly when I grabbed hold of Quentin's mouth, my fingers digging into his cheeks, before I plucked out his eyes. He did not suffer for long, the sad dear, as I ended it quickly with a hard slash downward of the hand.

They are all dead around me. I take a moment to relish as my eyes travel over the deceased. Penny was nowhere to be found, presumably running away this loop around or hiding in the Neitherlands, but it is pointless to think of. I will have to use this immobilization spell on the dear children next loop, gentle reader. I will quiver with delight as I see the helplessness on their faces, and they will not even know it is they who gave me the glorious idea.

I can feel it coming again, this damned magic. This time, however, I have an idea. The 40th time, I will find Jane and I will put an end to this tightening noose once and for all. And who knows, maybe the children will have better luck this time. (Ah, gentle reader, I have almost killed myself laughing again.) My eyes travel over the ceiling as if to memorize the trails and cracks before the loop takes me once more.

 "Better luck next time,children..."