A broom floated upright, just by itself.

Inside the darkened cellar filled with cobwebs and drearier shadows, Amelia Twigg seemed not to notice. Instead, she grabbed the broom and began sweeping, convincing herself that the floor needed a good cleaning before she could do any other task.

Upstairs, a rusty door opened. Startled, Amelia dropped the broom. “Who’s up there?” She raised her voice over the clanking sound of the nearby iron-riveted boiler. Then she thought: I didn’t invite anyone to come down here.

Someone had opened the door, and now, standing in the stairwell, he watched her. It was Jack B. Milton, whose father was the best baker in town. He was nineteen, one year older than Amelia almost to the day.

“Jack, why are you here?” Amelia would’ve looked much better if her long brunette hair, now unkempt, had been washed and the coal dust hadn’t soiled her pale skin. No doubt this girl in a brown pioneer skirt, white jacquard buttoned shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and vintage boots was working class.

“Did you not hear me knocking?” Jack asked. He came down the stairs wearing a newsboy cap and his long suspenders, now curiously exposed over his brown vest, and hitched up his trousers. “I got tired of waiting for someone to open the door. So I invited myself in.”

“That’s not the point! You’re not supposed to be down here!” Amelia said. “My father will be back soon. If he finds you down here—”

Jack couldn’t believe it. “For goodness’ sake, calm down! Your father won’t know. As soon as we hear him, I’ll be gone in a flash. Okay?”

This did nothing to lighten Amelia’s anger. “Jack! You’ve been told a dozen times not to visit without permission! Start obeying the rules!” Amelia’s temper simmered more and more—

An animated spark of life stirred. Colorful energy jolted through the air. The old broomstick rattled by a greater invisible force—then up, up, and away, it began floating effortlessly from the ground.

Although Jack was witnessing something incredible, he said plainly, “Eh, Amelia, your broom is floating?” He blinked just once, then twice, and his deep brown eyes became fixated on the magical incident.

Amelia still looked furious. And yet, she didn’t observe Jack’s look of disbelief during the moment. “You need to leave—wait, what did you say before?”

“Don’t you see your broom? Just look!” Jack grabbed Amelia’s shoulders to spin her around.

Amelia gasped aloud, her eyes popping out. The same broomstick floated through unbroken magic that was smooth, gorgeous, and free. Then, she wordlessly watched. But magic shouldn’t occur at all. The Kingdom of Daimitria has not seen the Devil’s Witchcraft during the last 450 years, especially not in the year 1901.

Jack went to Amelia’s right side. “Wow, this thing somehow got possessed by magic. Hmm, you don’t ordinarily see much of this every day.”

“Well, there must be a reasonable explanation for this, other than concluding this is just witchcraft.” However, Amelia’s eyes glanced toward that freely floating broomstick, which defied all other logical explanations except for one—it was witchcraft.

“Well, I don’t know, Amelia,” responded Jack, still unable to believe his eyes. “Somehow, incredibly, magic does exist in our world nowadays. Oh, have you seen anything like this situation before?”

“No, I surely haven’t,” she uttered quietly.

Both of them kept watching ahead. Deep in the cellar, a brighter shine erupted upon the floating broom, sparkling bright with glittering charm. Now, the unusual golden light faded away before creeping darkness again fell upon the cellar. Then, explosive magic zapped the air everywhere! One portion of reality somehow tore itself apart, producing a beautiful splitting rapture of pure angelic light.

Suddenly, a single bolt of energy struck Amelia’s forehead. Now she felt nauseous. She almost lost her balance from the dizziness. And, seemingly, she couldn’t control any part of her thinking. Her inner thoughts fell deeper into some random daydream.

Now she saw a strange vision. Somehow, Amelia was standing in a cave. A wet mist shrouded the ground. But ever nearer to her sights, the black shadows loomed in the background and foreground, and now reached further into the unknown place. Where am I? Somehow, I am standing underground. A place of darkness without any daylight engulfed her.

Suddenly, a waning blue light appeared, illuminating the darkness with captivating beauty. But then she realized it wasn’t a light at all. Instead, she saw an old necklace of some kind—a blue gemstone pendant hung from a long silver chain. Somehow, the necklace was floating in the cave’s darkness, and from it emanated a bright, unnatural light.

Wait, I recognize this thing. Is that the Jewel of Celestria? Amelia thought.

She only remembered seeing its general likeness in a street artist’s painting. But she also recalled history lessons about the jewel’s mysterious origins. The Jewel of Celestria became known by different names, but her kingdom’s people had settled on calling it after the abandoned old town in the kingdom’s southwest. No one had lived around there for centuries since dwindling trade had sealed the town’s fate.

The jeweled necklace was created to solve societal problems with witchcraft. The fabled artifact was made so long ago—well before the age of scientific enlightenment had replaced those sorcery ways. But she already knew history well. Witchcraft was dangerous, causing many wars and deaths. Thus, in the year 1445, the great King Cassius finally had enough of its influences ruining their society. Some years after that, the Three Noble Wizards solved the king’s problem of restraining witchcraft. A jewel could behave as a lightning rod to attract any magical energy before channeling it away from all sources.

No matter where such supernatural energy had originated from this world, the Jewel of Celestria had permanently eliminated witchcraft by 1451. With the last spells of witchcraft gone, the jeweled necklace had mysteriously disappeared over the centuries, never to be found again. By the year 1901, the infamous jewel itself became a legend.

***

The jeweled necklace kept floating in the darkness. Its splendid blueness shone out like hope, and Amelia felt almost hypnotized. Why do I keep on staring at this thing? I am so close, and yet, I am so far. Subconsciously, her agile fingertips began reaching out, longing desperately to touch and feel it. But she never could get any closer to it with her reach.

Then, almost magically, the Jewel of Celestria suddenly vanished from sight.

Darker shadows enclosed around her. Amelia lost her balance, feeling as if the cave’s ground had disappeared beneath her feet, and she started to fall. She descended backward from that spot while her intensely green eyes began losing sight of everything while her body slowly plunged more into the endless dark shadows. And her mind began slowly drifting away—before her inner thoughts were lost to numbness—before her very own thinking shattered like breaking glass!

A familiar voice spoke out from her mental haziness: “Hey, Amelia, are you okay?”

Suddenly, the vision stopped. Amelia now only saw the dark cellar once again, and instead of seeing the cave’s darkness around her, she felt the lovely grasp of Jack’s strong arms as they held onto her. Amelia looked up, mostly startled and confused, but she was thankful to be safe with him. Suddenly, the floating broomstick dropped to the floor.

After glancing back at Jack, Amelia murmured, “I think I’m all right, but you can let go of me. Thanks.” Jack finally released her from his endearing hands, and she regained her balance to stand on her own.

The wooden broomstick didn’t move again. Then, Jack spoke curiously. “Well, I didn’t know what happened to you. After you got struck in the head with that weird kind of energy, you suddenly passed out for ten seconds. If I hadn’t caught you in time, I’m sure you would’ve fallen. But are you okay now?”

“Yes, Jack. I’m fine.” But Amelia also pondered, Well, that’s pretty weird. I felt like that strange vision lasted longer than ten seconds. Next, she went to pick up the broomstick. Without its apparent sorcery, that long dusty old thing was dull and ordinary. Then she questioned herself, “Could I be a witch? But trying any witchcraft shouldn’t even be possible nowadays.”

Jack patted her on the back. “Hard to be sure. Nothing can stay the same forever. Perhaps all witchcraft will make a comeback.” Next, he recited a poem’s old saying to reinforce his point:

“Witchcraft is born in your blood of kin.

Indeed, thy long days of magic will come again.”

Suddenly, disturbing sounds came through the ceiling above them; someone was inside when they heard other footsteps coming from somewhere upstairs in the shop.

Panic rose in Amelia’s eyes; she rushed toward Jack and grabbed him by his arm. “My father returned home.” She glanced back apprehensively. “I can’t let him know you’ve been down here. He would only get angry. Quick, leave. I’ll talk to you about this later. But meet me somewhere else tomorrow. Okay?”

She then pointed to another exit—a storm shelter door, leading from the cellar to above ground. Playfully, Jack tried to resist leaving her with a whiny look. However, Jack finally obeyed her wishes without fussing anymore. Thus, he smiled and departed.

***

Nearly a day later, Amelia was still trying to avoid thinking about yesterday’s magical incident. Instead, she kept to her schedule of typical daily chores. That mostly included cleaning the family shop, washing the dishes, and hanging wet clothes out to dry. But during the morning, she chatted with potential customers.

The profitable business was great for her family, and it paid the bills. Their old workplace, Ol’ Twigg’s Shoppe, was a decent two-story building. Living quarters were on the second level. All the blacksmithing items were sold on the ground floor, and the cellar was used for storage of other goods. The Twiggs had been living in the town of Coalfell for many years now. It was a decent home in which to raise a family on the western border.

Later in the afternoon, her dear father asked her to fetch some wheat from Old Frank’s Farm. It was a small family-owned farm outside of town, quite a distance from Ol’ Twigg’s Shoppe, but it was a reputable place to go to buy wheat. In addition, they wanted to grind the cultivated grain into flour before making the bread from scratch, so she received some coins for the task. Hopefully, it was enough to pay the grumpy farmer.

The sun was high, and a cool summer breeze blew continuously. Amelia walked through the cobblestone town square—a one-of-a-kind place now teeming with wealthy strangers. Gentlemen walked around in long frock coats and top hats. Women teased their handsome suitors by wearing bell-shaped dresses, crinolines, bustles, and other proper formal clothes with frills and furbelows. A few of them even wore enormous, feather-laden hats.

Amelia scoffed upon seeing them.

The wealthy folks had taken over her hometown. About fifty years ago, before 1901, Coalfell was a coal mining community out in the west. Generations of families had poured their hearts into making sure those mines were central in their town’s development. Only in Coalfell’s underground mine shafts could one find some significant deposits of specialized coal—nowhere else.

Then, the wealthy folks started pouring in, and times changed over fifty years. Coalfell had been thriving with the gradual rise of the steam power necessary to assist the Daimitrish war effort. The old parts of the town remained untouched, with older buildings and various streets filled with horses and carriages, while the newer parts of town housed more of the general populace. However, different social classes lived together in peace. Nearby factories dominated the town’s skyline, spewing dirty smoke pollution visible wide and far.

***

One hour later, Amelia Twigg had a full wheat basket resting on her lap, and she was now sitting peacefully under a giant old-fashioned windmill. Behind the windmill remained an old wooden barn—one forgotten place containing many disregarded broken things. Oh, how much fun she and Jack had when they were younger playing around that barn. Her eyes glanced toward the many ancient trees, seeing how they swayed in the fleeting summer wind. Then she carefully watched overhead. So beautifully up there, the rustic fans twirled periodically atop a big grassy hill.

It was a long summer month. There were too many hot days in a row; one could always notice the heat. She tilted her head up and began watching the clouds. Long white streaks rested beautifully against the blue sky, where brighter sunshine occasionally broke through the clouds. The sitting girl’s eyes gazed around. The town of Coalfell was beyond the far stretches of greenery. However, her sharp vision traveled further, looking even past that. The Great Western Wall stood many kilometers away from Coalfell, appearing like a giant dark structure above patches of vegetation, dwarfing this town and its surroundings. The old stone wall symbolized their country’s defense against the past’s dark sorcerous ways. In today’s world, it still protected the national border, consistently protecting the kingdom’s boundaries from external foreign threats.

Amelia thought the Great Western Wall was such a shame as she stared at it. Our great kingdom doesn’t want to fight anymore in this war, but both armies are still fighting at a perpetual deadlock. And I think the other side wants the war’s end. So both great nations must somehow find a way to seek a chance for peace.

This massive stone barrier had divided two different nations during times of warfare. And the war itself had lasted for 450 years, give or take. Closer to the frontlines, many believed war could never end. The Empire of Brath hated the Kingdom of Daimitria. The feeling was mutual on the opposing side. The Great Western Wall guarded the entire town of Coalfell, the residing steel factories and civilian homes, and several military outposts with Daimitrish soldiers along the fortified border. The same unbeatable wall was a last remnant of their witchcraft-based history. At the time of the wall’s creation, the past wizard architects combined their total magical strength to create something so strong and mighty to withstand the countless ages. Nowadays, the formidable stone wall has become repurposed to fit into their present-day newly-steam-powered industrial-revolution-styled era.

Now defunct without magic, the once-magic-powered cannons still had enough regular explosive firepower to provide an unbeatable defense to deny any land-based warfare taken from the Empire of Brath. Each devastating round could wipe away the enemy Brathons if they tried to advance by land through the stone barrier built by great past wizards.

Along with this great wall, the naval division ships stationed up north were always at the ready. As a result, the Kingdom of Daimitria became politically at peace with its neighboring countries. The Empire of Brath would never evade the stone wall altogether by attacking those neighboring countries first. If they executed such a plan, that would be risking an all-out regional war instead of having a one-on-one stalemate in the war.

However, going back to those wall-built cannons, they could only shoot pointed downward or horizontal toward enemy lands within their stone-enclosed spots on the wall. Those powerful cannons couldn’t angle upward, so there was no aiming toward the blue sky. They didn’t need to protect the sky during this continuous war. Nobody could fly, although the general public knew myths and oral stories about how one could fly back in the older times of witchcraft, only doing so with magic. About 350 years ago, a past Daimitrish government destroyed all veritable book resources concerning the knowledge of witchcraft—a needed action to rid them of their shameful old ways. However, anyone curious enough in today’s world could still get vague history and undeniable facts from certain approved books on the subject. Still, their expert knowledge was largely incomplete, and censoring books helped the government validate its control over the general populace. The present-day bans only mattered to the subject of witchcraft and its related knowledge, but other civil liberties were always respected without any restrictions. As a result, most ordinary folks didn’t know much about the former days of witchcraft, and it was especially true when the authorities didn’t want them to know. Today’s books may explain a few magical spells, but it wasn’t enough material to gain much wisdom.

Oh, that Great Western Wall! The present-day Daimitrish Royal Family had only focused their attention on anything potentially crossing their fortified border to keep peace in the inner kingdom lands. There was nothing more to that defense. Concerning the same unbeatable stone-barrier wall from past old witchcraft, the enemy Brathons had never broken through to invade the good homeland that she always loved.

Amelia tried leaning back to relax. Overhead the windmill’s fans whirled gracefully with the crisp summer winds. The simple fans went round and round in slow motion. The windmill’s spinning lulled her into relaxing as the warm sunshine touched her skin. She closed her eyelids trying to nap there—

“Well, hello—funny finding you here!” A nearby voice broke the peaceful silence.

Amelia woke up very startled and blearily glanced up through a harsh glare of sunlight. Huh, somebody, a tall skinny fellow, was looking down at her. She then calmed down. It was only her friend, Jack B. Milton, standing there grinning.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Amelia asked drowsily.

The lanky boy looked almost surprised as if he wasn’t expecting the question at all. “See, I went on an errand to visit Mr. Frank’s farmhouse today. Then I saw you over here. Sorry, did I disturb your nap?”

“No, it’s fine. I was only resting my eyes,” the girl muttered before quickly yawning. Then she returned to a different subject at hand. “So, you previously said you wanted to see Mr. Frank?”

“Yeah, that’s right. My father asked me to visit him. Our bakery needs more sacks of wheat. We’re running a special for our customers...”

Amelia’s mind drifted off into either not caring or feeling tired. She already knew that Jack was very proud of his family’s business. Simply Bread Cafe was a delightful bakery in Coalfell. People always loved buying cookies, cakes, and bread, including her. But now, as she thought more about it, she recalled the first encounter of meeting him. It only happened a few years ago when she was at the young age of ten. She only remembered entering the little bakery store in east Coalfell, merely satisfying her curiosity while attending another errand. There, she saw a younger Jack standing on a ladder and restocking the shelves. She remembered saying, “Umm, excuse me. Where’s your freshest bread?” Her little girly voice surprised the unaware boy, who promptly fell from his ladder.

Yes, all it took was a ladder fall and a long humorous exchange of words and laughter for their friendship to blossom over the years since.

***

Amelia stopped pondering. “Oh, is that so? And that’s why you came out here?” She was not paying attention to everything Jack said, but she had kept up with their conversation enough to avoid raising his suspicions. As much as she loved Jack, she only wanted to enjoy the sunshine and relax by this beautiful windmill. Oh, couldn’t we talk another time, Jack?

“Well, in short, yes,” replied Jack. “But I also forgot to mention this as well. Mr. Frank stiffed us on our last shipment of wheat, so I was going to see him in person to correct the mistake.”

“Well, that’s not surprising.” Amelia finally began listening. “Poor farmers like him will do anything to save money, which includes being cheap. But it’s insulting he would do that to his good customers.”

“Of course, he’s a stingy man.”

On that final note, Jack wanted to sit next to Amelia while her back rested against the wall. When he neared the windmill’s facade, he plopped down so clumsily against the yellow-chipped-painted wood, he completely lost his balance. When he fell so foolishly hard, she began giggling.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me,” grumbled Jack. “I’m so exhausted walking out here today. And, I still haven’t visited Mr. Frank’s farmhouse yet.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

Blushing quite red, Jack scolded her when speaking again. “Well, Amelia, can we talk about something else instead of you laughing at me?”

“Like what exactly?”

“Well, have you given any thoughts about what happened yesterday? You know the incident—the magic with the broomstick.”

Amelia’s eyes lowered, noticing her resting knees, scraped with dirt and scratches. Then after some careful thinking, she only responded, “Well, no, I haven’t thought much about it since then.”

“Wait—what?!” Jack sounded almost flabbergasted. “So you’re telling me that you haven’t once thought about it? Please, Amelia! Don’t tell me that I’m the only one concerned about it!”

“Hmm, I guess so.”

The boy’s jaw dropped in disbelief, almost looking toward her as if he were the crazy one.

“Well, it’s not like I want to ignore it,” Amelia replied, withholding her worry until now. “I don’t know how it happened in the first place. It’s not every day one does magic and not be concerned with it.”

He quickly interjected. “No, what you did yesterday was certainly a miracle beyond any doubt! But please don’t forget the incident so easily like it never happened. Otherwise, you’ll be in denial.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Amelia sounded angry. “But I’m trying to come to terms with what exactly happened yesterday from seeing that magic. Honestly, I don’t understand all of it yet.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“The implications of that incident. It’s a little hard to believe that I—I of all people, could be fated to use magic?” Amelia mused. “Do you remember what the older books say about doing the Devil’s Witchcraft? ‘Practicing witchcraft leads to much suffering, widespread destruction, and deadly bloodstains on your hands.’ How am I supposed to embrace something such as that? Should I even like doing it? I honestly don’t know the answers to these big questions yet.”

“That’s pure rubbish.” Jack rolled his eyes. “You and I both know that our dear ancestors practiced some witchcraft. People used magic for many centuries, all without the devastating effects we’ve learned in books. You’re too focused on the bad things we’ve heard from it, such as the wars and killings. But there were times when it helped people’s lives and brought peace. Please don’t be afraid of knowing the unknown.”

“I’m not afraid. I’m just overly cautious about using it without fully understanding it. You know how I love reading from time to time. I’ve read many stories from my collection of antique books about the older days of witchcraft and how folks behaved back then. Their lives seemed so much different from now, even just a few centuries ago.” Amelia relaxed her shoulders as her emerald-green eyes stared aimlessly toward the distant landscape toward their home. The town of Coalfell remained kilometers from them, but the encompassing scenery around their town was beautiful on this warm sunny day. Past the urban sprawl went stretches of pine trees going further off, even past those outer chimney factories that spew out fumes of black smoke pollution. Bountiful farmland and hills also surrounded the town of Coalfell, making it blend with the green wilderness. Amelia’s eyes then focused back. “And I don’t think I have the strength to do that again. To magically levitate some different object of my choosing.”

“So, let’s see if a miracle can happen twice.” Jack then pointed a finger to the girl’s lower right side before he expressed some encouragement. “Do you see that tulip flower to your nearby right? Try moving the flower’s stem with your mind. You might be able to do it.”

While her back rested against the side of the windmill’s facade, Amelia’s eyes stared helplessly down, trying to imagine the flower’s stem and roots underneath the soil. She saw the beauty of its petals in the sunlight. Petals of gold and rose-red glistened with dew, and her bare hands stretched over the tulip flower. Indeed, she tried to move it by rational thought alone. C’mon. Move! It did not move, and she gave up her efforts after trying for several minutes.

She continued in a low voice, “Have you ever thought of what would happen if our townsfolk found out about me? For goodness sake, Jack, everybody would treat me as an outsider, or perhaps say that I’m dangerous to them. They will not understand that I’m just different.”

“Well, don’t worry about it,” he reassured. “No one knows anything about yesterday’s incident. Your secret is just between you and me.”

Amelia didn’t speak anymore. After setting down the basket of wheat, she looked at her palms. Her two hands had some smears of dirt, and yet somehow, the likes of magic came from them yesterday. Still, she could only wonder about yesterday’s incident. Why did magic have to happen to the likes of her? She kept on thinking to no avail. Amelia blinked once again before slowly glancing around. As luck would have it, her greenish eyes fell upon the town surrounded by a great wilderness. She also saw the sky filling with gray clouds of smoke. Wait, hold on! Do those clouds of smoke look odd?

The girl jumped up, looking disturbed. Likewise, Jack promptly arose to his feet as well. They both sensed something was wrong. The strange smoke didn’t seem to be coming from the factories or any burning coal. This ascending smoke wasn’t even black as coal. It seemed to originate from somewhere inside the town itself. Then suddenly, both of them heard the town hall bell tower, a large brass bell clanging out notes of warning.

“Look over there!” Amelia exclaimed as she stepped forward. Clumsily, her feet knocked over the forgotten basket of wheat. She watched the gray smoke steadily rising from somewhere within Coalfell. “What do you think is happening in town?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Jack said darkly, “but they would not sound that tower’s old bell unless there’s something serious happening. Let’s only hope that I’m wrong about that.”

***

Across the green valley, countless trees remained at a distance of five deep kilometers. Beyond the trees was the town of Coalfell. Amelia and Jack now traveled through Bredenside Woods. Westward they ran. But also traveling on the country road, a full regiment of soldiers slowly marched past them. The soldiers went eastward along with steam-powered trucks, neighing horses, and a forty-five-long-tonne steam tank—its heavy tank treads rolling along the unpaved road. Those soldiers appeared to have already visited Coalfell.

Amelia and Jack hid behind a bush. A group of ten soldiers walked past them. Still, those many armed men spoke in coded military talk, perhaps to coordinate their next moves. However, Jack’s worst fears came true when he saw the blood-red insignia of a hissing viper on their military uniforms’ shoulders. He briefly whispered into Amelia’s right ear, “The Empire of Brath’s First Battalion. Our greatest enemies we always fear are now here.”

“Why are these men here?” Amelia felt only dread and fear gnaw deep in her belly when lowering her head into hiding. A brown-bearded soldier with a rifle made his rounds before he had strolled elsewhere. Still hidden, Amelia then whispered back into Jack’s ear. “How did these folks even get past our kingdom’s Fifth Regiment Army after making it through the Great Western Wall? Nobody has breached our defenses before.”

The baker’s son was now crouching down behind this bush. “Yeah, it’s tough to believe. But it’s worth mentioning that our dear enemies have somehow breached the wall to invade Daimitria.”

Quickly, the two teenagers went on ahead after the patrolling soldiers passed them.

***

Entering the town of Coalfell, everything burned with columns of fire and heat. Amelia and Jack could hear the sounds of breaking glass and gunfire. Both of them looked ahead in horror and dismay. The Brathons had ransacked almost every market shop. They smashed windows, galloped quickly inside, and easily took everything they could steal to carry. Many ordinary townsfolk ran for their lives during this devastating upheaval while the invaders shot at them.

“I must find my family!” Jack shouted to Amelia, now joining the rising level of turmoil. Some of those soldiers fired at a young pair of lovers, leaving them dead in the middle of the street. “My parents could be in trouble. I’m sorry, Amelia—I must find them!” He began sprinting away, not bothering to look back.

“Jack!—Don’t go!” Amelia tried calling out in desperation, but she lost sight of him.

Sheer terror overwhelmed the streets, and she was running in the middle of it. But wherever she ran, the blacksmith’s daughter only saw despair on people’s faces. Most ordinary folks didn’t fully understand how this situation was becoming only worse. But they did try to avoid the flames, the invading soldiers, and the burning homes and businesses up in smoke.

“Bring fire to this place!” roared a galloping enemy general on horseback. A brass trumpet blared out. Some enemy soldiers threw a grenade near a building. Glass windows shattered from the grenade’s explosion. Then arose more fire and smoke from it. The soldiers moved on with malicious laughter. When more eventful terror had filled this little town, the Brathons advanced with more war machinery and mobilized manpower, numbering in the thousands.

Amelia began rushing with the crowds again. Everywhere, townspeople ran among the wreckage and mayhem, now screaming desperately or being traumatized mute; they had no time to prepare themselves for this invasion. She then heard five gunshots that sounded too close. The bullets barely missed her! The gunfire sounds only hastened to spike the panic and terror that caused people to sprint to any form of shelter they could find in their surrounding vicinity. Other soldiers charged again with their bolt-action rifles. They fired at everybody, regardless of who looked innocent or threatening. Uncontrollable flames consumed the buildings as more people dropped dead in the streets. This way and that way, more chaos had destroyed Coalfell.

Amelia stopped herself, gasping out of breath. She tried staying low to the ground in front of a brick building. Death was all around her—dead bodies lay everywhere—so much chaos in so little time.

There was a loud rumbling sound next to Amelia, and her head spun around, fearing the worst. From where she stayed next to a shop’s window, its brick foundation seemed to crack and easily split apart. Instinctively, she moved backward before quickening her pace as another horror revealed itself. A big steam-powered tank came barreling through the store’s window. The tank barely missed her as it destroyed a wooden bench by rolling over it—then its continuous treads steered on the cobblestone street.

As people moved out of the way, the tank’s barrel now aimed down the street. At the far end of the block, Old Hopkins Tower had sounded the warning bell. The heavy-armored tank fired an artillery shell. The bell tower suddenly collapsed during the last sound of a brass note, looking as if the entire structure fell by detonation. A resulting fireball blew upwards to the sky.

“Things are getting out of control. But, somehow, I have to make it back home.” Amelia began running, seeing that more danger arose ahead since billowing clouds of smoke kept rising further in town.