June 7, 1917

West Flanders, Belgium

'B' Flight Squadron (No. 10)

My squadron is being deployed in the Operation in Messines.

We encountered some resistance along the way, but we

arrived to the starting point of the offensive with time to spare.

We will be joining the 53rd and the 57th Royal Flying Corp,

to provide air support to the British Second Army that will

start the offensive against the German 4th Army's. Our

objective as a whole is to take their Oosttaverne Line.

The lads and I will deal with the Germans in the sky,

but we have to stay clear as to where the mines are

located across our map.

I can't go into too much detail right now, however

I have to remember to bring ear plugs.

~Collishaw

(3:09 AM) ................

................ (3:10 AM)

—*BTOOOOOOOOM!*

“HOLY SH*T! D-DID THE GROUND JUST GAVE BIRTH TO A DRAGON!?!?”

“That's not a fantastical beast, Sleipnir! The British Second Army detonated the mines!"

Raymond Collishaw had to shut his eyes hiding behind goggles as a giant column of fire erupted from under the ground. The tower of living blaze was 100 meters high, and the width was about 30 meters. The area of effect in the ground below him just caved in, forging a sink hole in a 20 meter radius. Whatever was sitting on that portion of land was either incinerated by the fire, or swallowed up by the maw of the Earth.

Either way, it was a scene that no one could take their eyes off, even if they were fighting on planes in the sky.

"OH MY GOOOOOOOOOD! E-even if I am a Witch wh-who can throw a Level 10 Fireball Spell, th-this level of destruction is too violent! I-it will make even an pyromaniac Archmage cr*p his robes!"

“Hang on! I think the shockwave is going to hit us—NUWOOOH! SPOKE TO SOON!”

“NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The all-black Sopwith Triplane was flying in the air, until a shockwave slapped it in the face. Distorting the air flow and inducing a fluctuation of alternating wind pressure, it forcd the three-winged plane to rattle like a maraca. It took a steep dive, losing altitude in a steep slope. Thankfully, the Canadian Pilot controlling it was able to reduce the speed to engine, balance out the plane, and then pushed the throttle to maximum in order to keep itself from hitting the earth that was about 30 meters above the ground.

Close call. If only his partner sitting in the back seat of the plane understood his feelings.

“M-my ears are ringing Ray-Ray! Wh-what exactly happened!? Uwa-uwa (@[email protected])”

“The 171th Tunnelling Company. The Royal Engineers had been digging out this elaborate mine in this are under the Spanbroekmolen area. It took them 6 months to build and they were waiting for the right time to use it as a trap for the German Empire. Geeze, after holding back for one full year and now it's all gone in only two seconds. It must be a mess for the German front down there.

“Wait! Wait! It’s still exploding! There’s more and more brand spanking new volcanoes popping up from one end of the province to another. J-just how long is this thing!?”

“Last I hear about it, there were 19 mines altogether. I think it’s about 1798 feet long give or take.”

“(OдO)......Holy sh*t!”

The Canadian Witch gave out a light squeak of a scream, but that was drowned out when another series of underground explosions ignited the air. She would lean over the side of the Sopwith Triplane, watching sinkhole after sinkhole of burning white fire erupting from the belly under ground. Each belching ball of flame appeared with an intentional delay in time. There would be two blowing up in the West, and then 2 minutes later three more would erupt in the Northwest direction.

Altogether, she could count 19 full blown non-nuclear eruptions that ripped throu the belly of the earth across the West Flanders. Their combined destructive mass created this large crater, about 76 meter in diameter and 12 meter deep. Any earthly foundation, trenches, bedrock, or even landmass close to the edge of this create ended up collapsing and spiling in. Like quicksand.

This causes more smoke and fire to appear, spreading across a column of ants known as the Imperial German 4th Army.

“Uugh. R-Ray-Ray...I-I don’t feel so good.”

"If you're really sick of flying, please file a request to transfer to another unit on the ground. And don't worry, those explosions aren't toxic. It's not like chlorine gas. Even if there was a terrible exhaust of combust minerals, this altitute wouldn't—"

"No...it's...not.......Guh...Aaggh....BLEEGEGH!"

Raymond Collishaw wanted to turn and frown at his partner. Despite a Witch, she had a penchant for throwing up due to air sickness. How she became his partner in the sky, he'll never understand the workings of her superiors in the magical society.

But before he could even move his neck - a fresh splatter of blood painted the back of his arm, and stained the visor of his cockpit. As if someone fired a bullet in the back of someone's head. Only there was no gunshot.

"...Sl...Sleipnir!"

"S...sorry...I...I tried to turn away but....Uuugh."

The Canadian Pilot traced the splatter trajectory to the source that was sitting behind him. The Canadian Witch covered her mouth with one hand, while she clutched the side of her body where her liver would have been. Buckets of blood had spilled from her mouth, as if she was bite into a ballon filled with fresh red dye. It was still leaking from behind her covered mouth.

"...I...I think the blast... uuugh... ru-ruptured the blood vessels in my liver and spleen..."

"H-how? What? B-but I'm perfectly fine. What happened? D-did you get hit by a machine gun? B-but the Germans are too confused to even bother shooting at us right now, so how did this happen?"

"Ha-ha. Uugh. Sorry, darling, I...I should have properly explained to you, the--guurg...The anatomy and physiology of a magician...Aaagh."

The Canadian Pilot kept one shaking hand on the joystick of his craft while he stared dumbfounded at his partner who kept throwing up blood. Red fell and dripped over her lap, soaking the raven feathers on her dress. To his astonishment, even the Witch's ears were leaking with red fluid. Not even her nose was spared.

"...Magicians fo-focus their powers by using the blood vessels in their body as an arcane circle, to save time in drawing symbols or using minor spells that require runes to be drawn by hand. We've pushed the limits of our physiology to the point where a major shockwave or even a blast from, guug, a grenade could rupture our internal organs like poking a finger into a thin piece of —GABUUFFDDGG cough cough...Sorry Ray-Ray, I-I didn't mean to get your face dirty I...I couldn't hold it in."

"Sh-sh*t! You're vomitting red by the buckets! W-we have to touch down to—"

“W-we can’t. Cough, look.”

The Canadian Witch threw up more blood onto her own lap, drenching her skirt and her legs. With a shaky hand, she held up a trembling finger to point at the ground below. Raymond Collishaw would follow her gesture and inspected the battle across te ground.

Parts of the tower of blazes suddenly became twisted, mangled even. It soon took on a long shape that ripped itself from the base of the fire and started to fly around. To his astonishment, it turned into this long dragon like serpent with massive bat-shaped wings.

"Wh-what the h*ll is that?"

"...Fu-fu...Those Kraut Sorcerers must be diehard loyalists to their beloved Empire. To manipulate the origin legend of the Chimera and force it into the shape of a wyvern. How desperate they must be to win this war."

“Wait. Y-you mean, there's Magicians here? B-but how can they still fight, are they immune to the explosion."

"Darling... if a Witch in the air like me was is spitting up blood from her stomach, what do you think would happen to magic users on the ground?"

"..........."

"... They must be dying, bleeding from their eyes, mouth, arms, and legs. Even if they do live through this, they'll be nothing more than comatose vegetables. To think they have enough brain power to deliver this kind of deadly counter attack... those Krauts... can be really... stubborn..."

"H-Hey! Sleipnir, w-wake up! D-don't fall asleep with that smile! C-come on, tell me what to do? I'm not Magic Specialist, so keep your brain working and tell me what to do!"

"...Heh-heh...It's...rude to slap a lady awake... even if... you're helping me."

"SLEIPNIR!"

Raymond Collishaw had trouble to deal with two situations at once. First, he was shaking and pulling on the hair of the Canadian Witch to keep her eyes open, despite losing a lot of blood. Second, he couldn't understand the science of the flying phenomenon that took the form of a snake-like dragon with bat wings whipping around the sky.

Embers danced from its wing as it flew over the battle across the Messine below. Those small sparkling red flares would touch trees on the ground and it would instantly burst into a full tower of fire. Any plane that tried to shoot it down only had their rounds pass through it, like a revolver to a bonfire. In the end, once the creature made of living magic slap the craft with its wings it incinerated. It didn't even fall as a burning wreck, it just up and turned to ashes on the spot. There was no way a fire hose could solve this problem.

"...Ray-Ray...I...I have an idea. Ggeeegh."

"No. You're in no condition to fight. And if you use magic in that state, it might kill you. I don't know how magic works, but I know that a wound soldier wouldn't survive shooting a rifle without crippling his arm!"

"...It's... very simple... give me your goggles."

Without a second thought, the pilot pulled off his flight goggles and handed them into the shaking open hand of the Canadian Witch. The girl just smiled through red-stained lips.

"The Chimera... is a fantastical beast... but it really is... skewed rumors based on...a geyser that spits fire... in Turkey..."

"H-how is this going to help us."

"Magic... isn't about waving wands.. reciting incantation... or...mumbling........................................"

"...SLEIPNIR!"

"Ah sorry...I fell asleep...As I was saying, Magic... is all about... manipulating the ideology of everything around us, to bend it's nature and its form... to our desire...Ahead..."

"Huh?—WHOA!?"

Raymond Collishaw had been too focused on his woundered partner, that he didn't notice the flaming bat-winged dragon coming at him. With a curse he kicked the controls around to flip the plane upside down. It ended up 'gliding' over the belly of the beast as it missed him by a hair. He heard the rubber in his tires popping from the heat and some of the embers punched hot scores through the foils of his plane.

He gritted his teeth and pulled the joystick back, to pull him away from the beast's body. After a quick loop, he swooped under a German Fokker that crossed his path and matched its speed to use it as a shield from the flare and ember that showered down. The enemy plane was covered in flaming moths of ember, before it was struck by the tail of the flaming wyvern creature. It was when the beast fly past him and up yonder could he let out a sigh, smelling burnt rubber and metal all around him.

"...Ha-ha...All done... darling...coughggh"

The Pilot snapped out of his thoughts and turned back again. He gagged. The entire body of the Witch was starting to bleed. Skin lesions started to form over her arms and shoulders, and she was bleeding from them. Red dripped harder from her ears, but she ignored it as she added the final touched. What she did was a large amount of feathers to his goggles, to the point where it made a laurel of some sort. It wasn't just 10 or 15 pieces, but it was tightly woven with over 50 feathers.

"...Have you heard of the...the Raven...stealing the light from the gods..."

"No."

"That's fine... p...put this on your gun. Th...think of a raven taking flight...and...steal the light from the flesh of the beast."

"H-hold it, I-I don't understand one bit. Wh-what do you mean?"

A loud and unearthly screech filled the air. It sounded like another mine had went off and ripped another hole in the ground. But in fact it came from the sky. The Canadian Pilot would look up and see that wyvern coming around for a second pass. It was scorching up the clouds and the planes in the air, regardless of which faction. There was only one chance at this.

"Tch!"

Raymond Collishaw took the laurel of raven feathers and his goggles to wrap it around the Vickers machine gun on his plane. It twisted the band around to secure it in place and turned his plane. Somehow, the thought of a knight on horseback flashed before his eyes. Then they connected, the eyes of the flaming beast and the eyes of a human pilot. They were charging.

"...Three..."

The trembling thumb touched the trigger to activate the Vicker Machine gun.

"...Two..."

The second hand gripped the joystick, ready to flinch out if everything were to go wrong.

"...NUWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

The Pilot fired his weapon. The first thing that happened was the goggles released this intense green fog from their lens. They cracked, even shattering to become flying shards. But they didn't fall off. Instead, they moved on their own like pixies and dragged the threads of raven feathers all over the weapon. The whole thing was covered in black feathers.

Like a perched raven. And listening to a small voice in the back of his head, Raymond Collishaw clenched his teeth to think of a raven spreading its wings. The feathers on the machine gun opened, revealing a silver barrel. It released a hailfire of what looked like silver darts.

*SHRIP* *SHRIP* *SHRIP* *SHRIP* *SHRIP*

The flaming wyvern let out a painful cry. Bullets would normally pass through its body. The silver rounds did just that, but it also tore off portions of its flaming skin as it ran through it like knives. It was exactly how a grizzly bear would tear off the meat from a salmon it caught from the river. Rip. Rip. Rip.

"H-holy sh*t! It's working!"

The black Sopwith Triplane kept firing non stop. Raymond Collishaw didn't know how long this magical countermeasure would last, but was going all in for this gamble. He never once let go of his thumb on the trigger, even when the raven feathers became brittle from the constant attack and started to peel off. The wings that opened also was losing their color, dissolving even.

"Just a bit more! Hang in there Black Maria!"

Chanting a prayer under his breath, he kept firing. Firing. Firing. Firing. Even when he was about to collide.

"GEH!?"

Raymond Collishaw braced for impact, preparing his body to feeling an intense burn all over him when his plane dove into the ripped form of the wyvern... only to tackle through it and split the creature in two. The best way to describe this wasn't a single swipe of a sword beheading a creature.

Rather, it was as if the young man tumbled into the curtains of the stage and ripped them right off their hooks. And the whole magical beast blew out as quick as a candle.

"......................................................Oh my god, magic is too much for me."

Opening his eyes and surveying his existence, he touched his head and shoulder to offer a quick Lord's Prayer to the heaven above his head. Kissing his hand and touching it to the console of his plane, he let out a sigh.

"..........Sleipnir. The next time you do something this crazy, please write a full manual of how it...........Sleipnir?"

The Canadian Witch sitting behind him did not answer. A dreadful sensation grabbed the Pilot by the shoulder. He didn't want to look and face the truth... but he felt he would regret it if he didn't. So he turned.

A girl with frayed long black hair could be seen curled up in the back seat of Black Maria. She had this peaceful look on her face and a smile. Body drenched in thick blackish red blood. Even now, the red from the corner of her lips won't stop dripping.

"D*MN IT SLEIPNIR! I TOLD YOU NOT TO FALL ASLEEP ON ME!"

"Uuuuuuuh...R...Ray-Ray....My stomach hurts."

"You say that, yet you've spend the last few days rolling around in bed, mumbling about salmon this and salmon that."

"Can you blame me, 90% of my magic is based on the Raven in indigenous folklore... it's only obvious I would adopt some characteristic of the key symbol of my powers."

Raymond Collishaw let out a sigh as he crossed his legs on a chair next to the Canadian Witch's bed. They could be found in a large hospital tent that tended to the wounded on the battlefield, mostly those who survived the battle on the ground of Messine.

Due to the sensitivity of her identity as a Witch, it was obvious she was placed in a secluded section in the hospital tent that was devoted to healing wounded magicians. The Canadian Pilot look around at this point. All the 20 or so beds in this secluded division were full, with another 20 lying on straw cots and tarps used to cover trucks placed across the floor. Many of them were badly wounded, not from bullets or even shrapnel from artillery.

Like the Canadian Witch, the massive non-nuclear explosions from the mines injured their internal organs. He kept hearing how blood vessels of various parts of the body were damaged, some in the lungs, in the kidneys, and one had a crticial condition with his heart valve. Deep down, he felt bad for them. Especially one Wizard wearing a British Officer Uniform who suddenly snuck out of his bed, hobbling on his magical staff made of twisting oak to return to the battlefield in Messine. Fortunately, a Witch dressed as a medical Nun 'subdued him' and threw him back to bed. Raymond Collishaw had to cover one side of his eyes to avoid witnessing the violence. He wasn't in the mood to be part of a court-martial.

"...Psst. Ray-Ray. While the nosy Druids and Acolytes aren't looking, get me salmon. It has to be raw."

"Sleipnir. Please understand, there are no fresh salmon available for miles, not even in the nearest town. All the artillery barrages we've punched into the ground would have scared them out of streams and rivers. And it's not like Canada is popular enough to be exporting smoked salmon across the world...And who the h*ll eats fish raw? Are you a seal or something!?"

"B-but you don't understand. M-my intentions is to use the vitamins and the essential fat in the fish to hurry the process of my healing! I-it actually helps to promote cellular regeneration in my injured organs! Besides, th-their Willow Powder and-and Wasp Nectar concoction used as a healing potion tastes f**king terrible. It's worse than licking a cat's paw!"

".................................................................."

"...L...long story."

"As I've just came back from fighting the German Air Force, I have free time before my next sortie."

"Geh! B-back when I was training in Nova Scotia, I-I lost to a bet with another greenhorn Witch. The loser had the choice of licking a cat's paw or... or...it's—"

"I'm tired. We'll just leave it at that."

"Oh my god, thank you. You're the best regular person I've ever met!"

"Now, seeing how you're alright, I think it's safe to say you're stable. Good night."

"W-wait! D-don't leave yet! S-stay with me, I-I don't like being all alone!"

"The last two days I was helping the British Second Army push back the remnants of the German Fourth Army. You weren't complaining when you were on your own then."

"I-I was completely unconscious and sedated on questionable drugs stuck into unnecessary places in my body! Th-that's totally different. N-now that I'm awake, i-it's very noisy in here, a-and the nurses are really, really scary."

"You have fellow magicians all around you in recovery. You should be in good company."

"No. I wouldn't be surprised if another Witch comes over and shoves more than needles up wierd places in my body! I-I don't trust them even with my life. Th-they're jealous of my beauty!"

The Canadian Pilot couldn't hold back a small frown at his partner. Even if she had the face of an angry hamster, it had little to no damage to his mental psyche.

"There is no shame in being afraid of the dark."

"G-guh!? Y-you're imagining things! I-I'm n-not the kind of Witch who needs to sleep with a bedside lantern turned on."

"............................................................."

"R-Ray-Ray? Wh-why do you have s-such a serious face all of a sudden?"

"...I should have said this earlier but... Thank you... for saving me...with the flying red dragon and all."

"I-it was a wyvern, a totally different sub class...and...I didn't do anything special."

The Canadian Witch curled herself in her hospital bed, pulling up the covers to hide her face. Her eyes avoided connecting with the Canadian Pilot who kept her company, not from shame or anger. More like, she didn't know how to express her emotions right now. She blamed it on the cocained used for her anaesthetics.

"Oh and I tried my best, but this was all that's left from your magic last time."

"Hmm?"

The girl turned to see the Pilot pulling something out from under his coat. It was kept hidden inside of his flight jacket, over his heart and he pulled it out to show it under the dim light bulb that flickered every now and then inside of the tent. It was a raven's feather. It didn't look healthy, having become brittle and worn out. Some white patches had dotted itself across the stem and the edges, like an anemic fish.

"Your feather. It was all I could save before the rest disappeared."

"You do know I don't need them anymore. They're all materials I could only use one time per spell."

"........................................................Oh."

"But...I'm grateful... that you kept a part of me so close to your body... darling."

Raymond Collishaw's face flushed red. The Canadian Witch too, but she coyfully hid them under her blankets. Looking off with thoughtful eyes, she was thinking of something special to herself. She braved herself to voice them outloud.

"...Ray-Ray...When...when the war is over... let's get married and have thirty children...How does that—F**k."

The Canadian Witch wanted to see the Pilot's sheepish expression, to see how well he would react under pressure.

He was cool as a cucumber... because Raymond Collishaw was already walking out of the tent like a gentlemen.

"................God-d*mn it, Ray-Ray. Listen to a girl properly when she's confessing her feelings!...Sniff."