《The Valley of Life》


 Prelude

    Dorian woke with a start. The cool autumn air filling his lungs, its bitter chill making him cough. Sitting up, he could tell it was dark, and he wasn''t where he fell. There were glowing green orbs lighting the privacy of a canvas tent, he had woken up on a cot. Oh yeah, and everything hurt.


    He laid himself down, albeit slowly. Gasping every step of the way, leaning back felt like a little hell. He would have simply avoided whatever area was hurt, he wasn''t a moron, but everything hurt so it was unavoidable. He smiled to himself just before losing consciousness, just happy to be alive.


    When Dorian woke next, it was light out. This time, he woke up naturally, eyes opening gradually to greet the new day. He slowly inspected his surroundings, finding close to nothing inside his little canvas castle. The one thing it had, however, was space. It was large enough for an entire score of people, 12 posts surrounded the tent, and a thin metal pole was lanced upward directly behind his cot. Despite its inordinate size, the morning chill had been kept mostly at bay, only chilly here in castle Dorian.


    Sittingup slowly, wincing as he went, Dorian began searching his body, mostly confused. Hadn''t he been a pile of mush when he last checked? Hadn''t he been stabbed? Furthermore, why was he falling out of the sky?


    The weight of this concern seemed to finally settle on Dorian. He had no clue what the fuck was going on. He searched his memory, trying to recall anything, but he couldn''t. Amnesia? No, he knew his name, but hadn''t recognized the woman. Did she call him an idiot?


    The thought of that demon filled him with outrage. He had been stabbed! Why in the hell did she stab him? Wasn''t he in bad enough shape as it was? He allowed his mind to continue asking questions to himself for a short while before deciding that the only way to figure any of this out wasn''t in Castle Dorian. Chateau Dorian?


    Debating with himself, Dorian considered getting up to explore. Nothing was happening here, after all. Deciding, he sat up, minding his pains but taking them in stride. Standing, he found several holes in his clothes he hadn''t discovered in his first exploration. Feeling under the clothes, he found he had been bandaged and the blood removed from his garments. Those garments were a diced set of trousers, a linen tunic, and an armored leather over-tunic. Tattered, but still working, not unlike myself.


    Stepping forward, he felt lightheaded and stumbled, finding himself on his knees. He retched then, all bile and water. He felt awful, rethinking whether it was wise to leave yet. Reminding himself that fresh water is more important right now than rest¡­ Or was it? He was in bad shape. Maybe she threw him out of the sky because he deserved it. Most definitely, why else would she follow it up by stabbing him?


    He was still bleary eyed, when he stood, he simply made his way to the side of the tent that showed streaks of light, thereby finding an exit. Unclasping the straps, he ducked out to find a village ruin. Nothing large really, some scattered houses, and shrubby vegetation nearby. In the distance, he could see forests encroaching on the town, but several miles off yet. In the early morning dawn, he could see an incredibly bright light in the center of the ruins.


    That''s not eerie. Nah, totally normal. He wondered if joking to himself would lighten his mood, and a thought responded, ¡°madness.¡± The whisper of the thought came completely unbidden. He could be going mad; it wasn¡¯t an impossibility. If the stress of everything were to coalesce, he could see it. He was scared, confused, lost, hurt, and frustrated. The more Dorian thought on it the more he wanted to shout, to let frustration simmer. He hadn''t noticed getting cold, but suddenly, he began to feel himself warming. There ya go, anger to keep off the cold, surely that''s healthy.


    He started limping towards the light, because what else should one do? This had some congruence to Dorian, like there was a path to follow and this was it. Sure, wake up in a place you''ve never seen, see a light, inspect it because there''s nothing here otherwise. His limped gate made the short walk of a half mile feel much longer, he was breathing a bit heavy by the time he made it there. Perhaps more than a bit, Dorian thought, the cold thin air isn''t very forgiving.


    Approaching the feature, he found a sort of monument to whatever the light was. The pale stone, though dirty, all lead to the feature in the center of the small town. The monument had steps leading up to a center stage. Two pillars stood to either side, and hovering between them was the source of light.


    ¡°Beautiful, isn''t it?¡± Came a voice off to Dorian''s right. A thin man approached, wearing a thick woolen coat. He had a short beard, but thick enough to dominate his face. His gate had a pronounced limp to it, but still he walked over to Dorian without much effort.


    ¡°We''ve only read about such occurrences, most the time the clots are too large and disperse easily. This is still completely isolated. I''m not sure how it''s been done.¡± Dorian looked at this man, taking his measure. ¡°You know me.¡± Dorian didn''t pose it as a question.


    ¡°Yes Dorian, I know you. My name is Marcus, and this is the third time you''ve done this. Last time left us with some problems, so we took precautions this time.¡± Marcus looked at Dorian, face changing from concern to relief. ¡°We didn''t know if you''d wake, you were in bad shape. You subconsciously drew on Gia in a four mile radius after you lost your senses. We had three Sprinters pass out before we realized. I would have sent healers, but they would have been too late. By the time you made it back to us, you were already healed. We bandaged you up and set you to sleep on the neutral field. That¡¯s of no importance to you now, but it will make sense in a few hours. Th most important thing is getting you back to you.¡±


    Dorian wasn''t completely sure what the hell was happening, but for whatever reason he felt he knew this man. Dorian was struck with a sudden vertigo, vision blurring, then white¡­


    He sat at a table, explaining the rules of a card game to Marcus. ¡°No, you can''t play those in that order, because the first play would ruin the follow-up. See if you play this card first-¡± He was pointing at one of the cards. The world spun, light twisting, rearranging itself around him. There stood Marcus, among the ruins, and the light, and the cold.


    ¡°Old friend,¡± Marcus put his hand on Dorian''s shoulder. ¡°Before you ask, I did get the hang of it. I beat you weekly these days.¡± Marcus'' grin was pronounced by how trimmed his beard was. ¡°And I''ll have you know, before you know later, she''s not what you''ll think she is.¡±


    Dorian''s brows furrowed, not sure what he was talking about. ¡°What''s next,¡± Dorian said, anxious.


    ¡°The light should resonate with you, it would likely kill anyone else. Once you touch it, you should be lowered down to the cleansing chamber. From there, Clara should help you the rest of the way. I''ll be leaving after you go down, I have a tether back to Avlintas. So, if you''ll do an old man a favor,¡± he began walking towards the hovering light, his hand escorting Dorian like a parent escorts a child. ¡°I would like to get out of the cold before we both die of old age.¡± Dorian frowned. ¡°What are you, forty?¡± Marcus laughed lightly, still walking Dorian along.


    When he made his way to the light, Dorian looked directly at it, and as bright as it was it didn''t seem to hurt his eyes. Now that he was so close, he could feel a radiance from it. Not like one would by a campfire, closer to the feel of sunlight on one''s skin on a frigid day. Dorian reached out to touch it. ¡°I''m four hundred and thirty-seven, this year,¡± Marcus said absent mindedly. As Dorian turned his head to express his astonishment, the stone beneath him opened, swallowing him downward. He thought he heard laughter coming from above him as the light shrank away far too rapidly.


    Dorian slid downward in a slender passage at break-neck speed before the gradient of the smooth stone began to level off. He had been falling so fast that, for a moment, he worried he was going to have a repeat of his last high-speed venture. He offhandedly wondered if he could consider ¡°splatted¡± a recurring medical condition.


    Dorian noted a dim glow as he fell, a field refracting that same hue of green as above. Before he had a chance to choose, he passed through it like falling through the ice on a riverbank. When he went through the outer wall, an abrasive wave of calm washed over him, relaxing, yet somehow jarring. Dorian chided himself, you can''t be both, can you? Finally, he slid to a stop. With little grace, and no dignity, he wiggled himself free from the stone.


    The first thing he noticed were the runic markings on the walls, all glowing a bright blue green, its hues changing like breath. Broken in places, the chamber spoke of antiquity. The linings of the runes seemed to be bursting with life, moss and lichen growing unerringly outward. In the center of the runes, in the negative space that composed them, came a void. Nothing grew towards the darkness, only at the furthest reaches of the light.


    The second thing he noticed was the lean shape of a woman glowing ominously at the top of a platform, her glow unharmonized to the rest of the chamber. Her shape was mostly composed of her flowing hair, and an exact matching set of leathers to his own. Well, exact in form at least. His were in shambles, while hers were in pristine. He could tell they fit snug against her athletic form. Next to her was a square shape covered in more runes, these were the most intense in the chamber, it lightened most of the room from atop the precipice. Its glow pulsed in tandem with his own heartbeat.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.Not allowing himself to slow, he grimaced and continued to limp through the general ache in his legs. A flare of pain caused him to visibly wince, to which a unique sound echoed off the walls. Like a whine. Directly in front of the woman, presumably Clara, came a click clacking on the stones, followed by the outline of a bushy tail as it moved back and forth. As the shadow came closer, he caught the eyes of a brown eyed shepherd. As the dog approached, however, it multiplied in size, as its bounds grew bigger, so did it. By the gods, Dorian thought, I''m lunch. Or brunch. Maybe a light snack.


    Not thinking, he put his hands out by reflex, saying something along the lines of, ¡°Whoa boy.¡± To his amazement, the dog stopped, sat, and looked at him. His tail was bobbing, and his head was tilting. Yep, definitely a boy. Big boy. This is when he heard snorting echo throughout the chamber, followed by a laugh so hideous it made him smile. They, Dorian and the dog, both looked over to see Clara doubled over, leaning on the central platform for support.


    Not sure what to do at this point, Dorian asked, ¡°Clara, I''m guessing?¡± She was holding her sides, still chuckling as she replied. ¡°Yes, yes Dor,¡± she was waving her hand as she spoke. ¡°Come then, Leo.¡± The dog looked back at him for a second, and shrank, deflating as it turned around and padded back to the woman. Dorian followed, taking each step-in stride. His right side hurt more than his left, but was by no means pleasant to lean towards, so he climbed the stairs as gingerly as a broken man could.


    When he reached the top, Clara stood with her arm outstretched. Dorian''s pride didn''t want him to take the help, but still he took it knowing that to shirk the hand before him was to shirk the woman connected to it. He reached for it while coming to the top, mumbling his thanks as he did. ¡°Tha-¡± was as far as he got, when he took her hand, everything spun and faded into white.


    Dorian had his hand resting against his forehead, trying to make sense of something. ¡°Not to be a bother, but you look like you could use some help.¡± A Woman stood over Dorian, he was drenched in sweat, blood, and dirt. Exhausted beyond belief, he hadn''t stood in nearly twenty minutes. Practice was done for the day, but he didn''t want to leave the yard, not for any other reason than it was where he was, and going anywhere else would take an effort he didn''t have left in him. Looking at her, a bit plain despite her obviously fine figure, he saw the stern expression on her face and found himself taking the proffered hand.


    Standing, he shook his head as if it would remove the wave of vertigo that struck him. Dorian opened his eyes to see the bloom of the most wonderful smile he''d ever seen. The once plain face seemed to glow for a moment, gorgeous. As quick as the smile was there, it was gone, face reverting to its idle consternation. ¡°Vessels aren''t to be on the yard past their allotted times. What class is yours?¡± She spoke like a whip, which drew Dorian''s attention to her attire. Captain? Oh shit.


    Dorians vision blurred and he came back to himself, held up by the same stern woman. She smiled. His heart leaped, and with it the glow of the chamber intensified.


    ¡°No, I haven''t decided.¡± she said as she helped straighten him. ¡°Decided what?¡± Dorian said, confused.


    ¡°Oh, so you didn''t keep that one, huh? I figured not, sometimes context doesn''t keep anyhow.¡± She chuckled softly, ¡°Okay, well, I say we should just do this and have done, right?¡± She looked at the center structure, which drew Dorian''s gaze to it. The raised platform had an indentation in the center, it was an elongated oval. In the indentation, there were more runes, but without any of the darkness that seemed to envelope the negative space of those on the walls. These runes were very small, but also much more numerous. Looking closer, Dorian saw something running through the center of the shape. Is that dirt?


    Puzzled, Dorian looked to Clara. Eyebrow raised, he was going to ask, once again, what the hell was going on, when she spoke instead. ¡°Strip.¡± She said wryly.


    Huh?


    ¡°Naked,¡± Clara said while rolling her eyes. Dorian was puzzled before, now he also felt puzzled and a bit excited. Stop it, you idiot, just listen to her, spoke his inner voice.


    ¡°You must have full skin contact, or the transfer might not be completed in a single sitting. It might not take anyhow, we don''t really know. We need this to be successful on the first go, there''s a whole lot riding on this.¡±


    Dorian mimicked the sour look on her face, ¡°And by that you mean...?¡±


    Shrugging, she said, ¡°oh, we''ll all lose the very spark that ignites life, and the human race as we know it will cease to exist. So, you say.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he replied sounding contemplative, ¡°Is that all?¡± Her only response was a stony glare.


    Dorian, in all his wisdom, decided to do as he was told. She promptly turned around as he began. Feeling awkward, Dorian sped up, and nearly fell over removing his pants. Clara''s head tilted to check on him, so Dorian asked, ¡°What do I do when I''m fully unclothed?¡±


    Clara straightened herself while replying, ¡°Just lay in the indentation. It will fill with open Gia, it will feel like water, but don''t be distracted. Once you start, you can''t stop. You can''t even move until you''re unconscious, and so long as you don''t thrash too much, you should maintain consistent contact. Once the Gia is over your mouth, just breathe naturally. When pressure expressed on Gia by a living creature, it converts to a gas, consolidates, and will naturally be exhaled as a liquid. You don''t need a whole lot on the inhale, but you''ll have to exhale just as much as you would normally. Try not to fight the expansion of your chest too much, it will feel unnatural at first.¡±


    Dorian finished undressing before she finished speaking. He felt like he was supposed to be doing this. All this, really. When he thought about it all, waking up and falling to his death, followed by castle Dorian, the crumpled town, and this chamber, it felt oddly expected. Like this was simply the next step. He climbed into the indent. He sat with his legs out in front, preparing to lay down. ¡°Anything else I should know?¡±


    She turned and kept eye contact with him. Yes, I''m watching your wandering eyes, don''t get any ideas there. He wanted to glare at her, but not feeling entirely bold, he just kept her gaze. ¡°The Gia will make an egg, it will be bright, then it will be very dark, don''t be alarmed, it''s just the Shade. So far as we know, you''ll lose consciousness then. You put more in this time, almost nothing left. So now you''ll have to manage all of it at once. Most of it will be a ride, but if you get caught in a loop, you''ll need to focus it out. By the time you come to any of that, you should know how to channel out the Shade. You''ll understand, shortly. So, if you would, please lay back and get this over with. I''d like to go home.¡±


    Dorian could only look confused. ¡°Just go!¡± She gestured open palmed. He followed where her hand was pointing and found himself looking at his worse half. Looking back up quickly, he caught her looking. She held that stony glare, but he could see her fighting a grin. He scowled and laid back.


    Looking at the runes on the ceiling, he felt something shift, like his presence wasn''t just where his body lay. He could sense the entire chamber. Every rune, every source of light or dark.


    The bowl began filling. Oddly, he knew this without having to physically look down, the cool sensation on his skin so faint he wouldn¡¯t have realized it if he hadn¡¯t already known it. Then he knew everything that would happen next, not why it would, just that there was a process and the steps to complete it. His uncertainty collapsed, and he simply allowed this process to run its course.


    Dorian¡¯s body fell the tantalizingly cool Gia running up his back, growing slowly. Like drawing a room temperature bath, it climbed at a gradual pace until it covered his body. As the liquid covered his face, he inhaled, choked for a moment, then had to make a conscious effort to relax. He inhaled just a touch, and as he did, he felt his chest expanding without the use of his muscles. When it felt like his lungs would burst, he exhaled, and like that he was breathing normally.


    The liquid light continued to swell, filling all the space around him. When it looked like the liquid would spill out, it filled upwards instead. Forming into an elongated cylinder, egg like in shape, it finally stopped. Clara had blindfolded the dog and was finishing tying her own when the darkness in the chamber began to writhe. The negative space in the runes, the floor, everything that wasn''t emitting light, seemed to crawl in together towards the center of the ceiling. Runes now gone, the chamber glowed a brilliant blue green, blindingly bright.


    Dorian felt a wave of revulsion roll through him, he could see the Shade crawling, like little inch worms, across his body, leaving the bowl he lay on. The essence made its way to the congregation of darkness, swiftly crawling out of his bowl, up the wall, finally to the ceiling. The black mass began writhing, shaking, then swirling. Feeling the room, the spiral started drifting down, making the form of a stalactite with its mass. It elongated, and for a moment before the egg and the darkness met, time seemed to stop. The anticipation mounted, as though the process would stop, pause, right there. In that moment, for the first time since the process began, he knew dread.

 Chapter 1 - Something From Nothing

    Part One


    Chapter 1


    It was ever a daunting task, finding the Priorius and vessels. The smallest communities always lead to protecting one another with fervor. Like the wild animals they released, despite the recognition to the hand that feeds, they would guard their kits with abandoned ferocity. Don''t they understand? Don''t they understand that those children belong to a purpose, that those children are no more children than a wolf pretending to be a dog? Several attempts to establish a religion have failed in the last three millennia, but this time it seems as though our ordained laws have stuck. The core of the religion, named after the manifestation of Priorius, had been our own version of what had been established outside the center belt. Already, the centralized city, ordained this year as Gwendon, has willingly handed over some nine vessels and two Priorius. The agricultural district has been less forthcoming.


    It will be the sixth time in the last four hundred years we''ve had to send out our self-proclaimed inquisitors. Ransoming their families to the children usually works, executing a few along the way was just another price to be paid. It''s not as though they matter in the grand scheme of things. If anything, the family''s small contribution was a debt to be paid.


    I often forget the reason I''m here to begin with, time seems to ebb at the walls of my desires. It is our goal to fill the reservoir, so no death is without purpose. I simply hope the other six are as successful as I.


    Like the steady shine of a new day, he simply was. The breath of that new day broke onto him with the stunning insight that he existed. Something from nothing. Feeling warm, and safe and happy, if only that were all life could be, then maybe he could have been happy. And for a time, he was. After that time, however, he slowly swelled, growing discomforted and cramped. Finally, he was birthed to the world, finding the first use for his eyes, his lungs. Breathing on your own takes more effort than one would think, and in the chaos that is birth, he was too excited to cry out. Until a more explicit reason became apparent. He honestly couldn''t understand any of it, but he knew he heard the word circumcision.


    Pain. He thought he knew the experience well, having fallen out of the sky and all. He was wrong. The experience of everything being new was more challenging than he thought it would be. He wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it, wasn¡¯t sure where he was, or what he was. What he did know, though the knowledge was slipping from him, was that he was in a memory. He was living his own life. Using his eyes for the first time, he opened them to the blinding light of the world. He cried, raising hands in exploration. For all that he was in this moment, he could feel himself, his real self, in that chamber, lying naked on the soil.


    But this, this too is me.


    Sensations for a babe can be overwhelming, and for a long time, he simply did as babies did. Dorian ate, shat, and at times, cried. Though, often, he didn''t, which worried his true self greatly. In these earliest stages, little Dorian didn''t understand what the people around were saying. He picked out his name immediately, which is why he thought it was so odd when his body responded to the name. ¡°It''s a good name, I think he likes it,¡± sounded a gentle yet exhausted voice.


    It¡¯s when he heard his own first thoughts. Odd sensation that, even without proper language, he could still understand those thoughts. ¡°I, Dorian.¡± I am, you dolt.


    As time passed, he felt part of himself becoming deeply immersed. Every rapturous experience became another taste, another flavor, to a child experiencing anew. Soon, Dorian couldn''t tell whether his thoughts were his or his memory¡¯s, whether he would think differently never became a question. Then, followed by a release in pressure, he was immersed utterly, he melded with his past and became lost in the experience of his own life.


    When Dorian was eight seasons old, he knew something was different about him. The communal caretakers would speak to him in that jabbering baby talk, and it would disgust him. At first it was endearing, now it was annoying, he feared it would soon evolve to loathing. The cooing noises these people make are so strange, why did they speak to babies like this?


    Despite his youth, he knew he was different than the other children. He understood that the other kids were more animal than human, they were still developing. So was he, though for some reason he felt he had something the other children didn''t, or didn''t have yet. Sentience was a hell of a thing. At his age, he knew he shouldn''t have his own thoughts, but he also felt that he shouldn''t try to draw attention to himself either. Fitting in wasn''t really important to him but sticking out left him feeling vulnerable and unsure. Like the goofy looking toddler in the corner, picking his nose and acting like nobody noticed him wiping his hands all over the wooden toys. Everyone knew. He wasn''t fooling anybody, especially not Dorian.


    Understanding the language was another process entirely. He had thoughts, but associating phonemes to them was a process that took time. Firstly, it seemed the noises he made couldn''t be controlled. Honing the skill of pronunciation took time in privacy, which was in short supply for the toddlers. Secondly, speaking when the other kids could barely walk would likely scare the hell out of his parents.


    Loud voices were commonplace in his home, not in a bad way, his family argued like it was a competition. His parents, having lost their first child to sickness early in their marriage, and their second in birth, argued often over safety and care taking. He had one older brother, nearly four years older than himself, who often became Dorian''s sitter when his parents argued, attended festivals or meetings, or made up. All of which was entirely too noisy to Dorian''s sensitive ears.


    Dorian''s home was made of stone. Not stone bricks, or of multiple stones, but all one stone. Like in the middle of the woods, someone found this one boulder and said, ¡°Yep, this will be my house one day.¡± The walls weren''t overly thick, but thick enough to support the roof. Dorian suspected there was a basement, though he could never find the entrance. There were several rooms in his house, a general area with a hearth, dining room with a large oval table carved out of the same stone the house was made of another room dedicated to cooking that had to have additional ventilation installed to make room for all the cooking stations, four bedrooms, and most importantly, a privy. There was a pond behind the house, most of the vegetation had been cleared, leaving plenty of space for him to play about. The forest, however, kept him from straying too far, as it was so dense past the tree line that extraordinarily little light made its way through.


    His brother was a little bastard. Little big bastard, he should say. His name was Kurtis, was always well to do in front of his parents, and an ass otherwise. In the land of giants, his brother was small but not as small as Dorian, which made Dorian the object of Kurt''s cruelty. Albeit, playing pranks on a babe takes a certain kind of malevolence, like swapping out the fresh goat¡¯s milk with milk that was old or curdled. What a bastard.


    Kurt was the primary motivation for Dorian to continue practicing his speech, he wanted more than anything to tell him off but couldn''t make the right sounds come out of his mouth. It was incredibly frustrating and took a great deal of time. In the interim, he studied the masters of argument, his parents, as closely as possible. Nobody could tell someone off like his mother, so when she spoke, he paid rapturous attention.


    The house wasn''t terrible, but it had its strife at times. During the early spring that year, the leader of their home, his mother, became the chief trapper for the village, and suddenly her responsibilities doubled. It made for some hostility in the house as his father, the cook responsible for estimating the total usage of food for the town, now had to work with his mother. I don''t get it, Dorian thought to himself, you would think being around each other more would help their relationship, not hurt it.


    Fortunately, Dorian''s family was well-off, able to provide for themselves and contribute to the village in their roles. They enjoyed regular meat¡ªmore than needed, according to his father¡ªand received a share of hides from the tanner. This ensured that Dorian and his brother Kurtis stayed well-fed and warmly clothed.


    The village''s monetary system was based on "Vega," a chip that could be exchanged for linen, vegetables, or grain from the Priorius Monastery. From what Dorian had overheard, the monastery was more than seven days'' journey up the valley and supplied food for everyone, including Gwendon, Kresson, his own village with surrounding settlements and the monastery itself. The Priorius didn''t like it when others tried to grow crops in the valley, claiming that the local habitat would collapse if the villages expanded their farmland. Each homestead was allowed a certain amount of farmland, and there was one large communal field to support the town''s needs. Dorian''s parents both thought the rule was nonsense, but they still managed to argue about it, even though they agreed on the matter.


    Dorian''s family lived in a village called Metan, named after Metae, one of the three primary gods. A day''s travel northwest was Kresson, named after Kressor, while Gwendon, named after Gwendos, lay almost a few days travel to the northeast. The valley''s furthest points were just ten days apart, and beyond them lay the wastes¡ªa rocky expanse of granite and basalt that leveled out past the valley''s jagged edges. It was said that the nearest habitable area outside the valley was over a week''s journey away and only ever visited by ascending Priorius acolytes.Stolen novel; please report.


    The monastery only required ritual attendance twice annually, at the eve of both the spring and autumn equinox. Every year it was required for all the townsfolk to bring offerings for the ascension celebration. The celebration itself involved an entire fair during the day, swaths of people, but became solemn at night. The solemnity was, according to the bald Priorius elder, to pay respective prayers to the ascending Priorius acolytes. At dawn, on the day of the equinoxes, everyone would return to the announcement amphitheater where each of the acolytes would be announced and sent out of the valley. The amphitheater was a massive structure, large enough to seat the entire valley, located between the monastery and the campground. After the name of the acolyte was announced, she or he would walk a path from the center of the amphitheater out of the valley via an ascending pass. The metaphor was never lost onto the crowd.


    Of course, Dorian didn''t get to experience any of this himself, during each festival so far, he had been coddled by either parent almost consistently. It wasn''t terrible, he was soaking up information about his environment. It''s amazing what some people will say in front of a child, assuming that the kid would never be able to understand, they would yammer on endlessly about this or that. Whether the game would be good this year, how quickly the elks were repopulating, how the bears and cougars never seemed to stop repopulating even after several attempts to purge the valley of their presence. All of this was like fresh air to Dorian, as anything was better than the circular arguments at his homestead.


    It was on the way back from the spring festival that year, while being toted on his mother¡¯s back in a linen baby carrier, when Dorian overheard a conversation between his mother and the head smith of Metan. The day was clear but felt humid. The trail they walked was wide enough for three or four to walk side by side but was cut off sharply by dense forestation. Dorian knew it was the smith approaching because he always had dark stains on his hands, even after being away from his work for several days. Also, as one of the village heads responsible for the welfare of the rest of the village, he had the right to speak to his mother on a first name basis.


    ¡°Hello, Rita!¡± The smith bellowed from afar. He was waving. Dorian instinctively tried to wave back but couldn''t with how his arms were constrained to the sack. His mother beckoned the man forward and stopped her walk.


    ¡°James, what can I do on behalf of Metan?¡± His mother asked when the smith caught up.


    ¡°Can''t you simply greet an old friend?¡± He replied, smiling broadly. Dorian couldn''t see his mother''s flat stare, but he could still feel it, it had a weight to it. After a moment his mother said, ¡°Yes, I suppose. Good day James Smith, of the Metan Smiths, fourth of the line and ninth to the house. Pardon my lack of formal address.¡± The sarcasm in her voice was thick, which was odd because she never took that tone with his father.


    ¡°None of that,¡± James said chuckling. ¡°I''m not here for all that either, though I would like to address an issue that I''m sure your trappers can help with.¡±¡°Oh, do tell.¡± Dorian''s mother replied.


    ¡°If you don''t mind, let¡¯s hold for the caravan tail. It''s nothing concerning, but I don''t want others getting any unsafe ideas.¡± They halted their walk and waited for a time, chit chatting idly over the recent festivities. When the last few people walked past them, the two began walking again, keeping their tones muted.


    ¡°What I really need is Steelfyre. Apparently, the stores at the monastery are running low, and there isn''t any resupply expected. The only viable craft are the trappers, so I am petitioning you. If we could begin scouting the forest, and the valley edges for any sign of it. It could change everything, and for the better.¡± He paused for a moment, a frown on his face. ¡°I know that look, Rita, and I know why. It''s not pleasant, but I figured the safest way to do this was with the trappers. My metalworkers and tinkerers don''t know any woodcraft. They''d be as likely to get attacked as your trappers would likely burn down my forge. It''s a matter of practicality that I bring this to you.¡± Quiet followed for a time, only the sounds of the padded leather boots hitting the ground to fill the air. When his mother spoke, it was with stern certainty.


    ¡°We''ll look as we set traps and alter our locations for the traps. I was planning on updating the maps, the forest has changed in the last generation and it''s time for an update as is. That will take some time, and I¡¯ve been dreading it for that reason. In the meantime, you will have to show us what to look for, and we won¡¯t be doing any deep cave exploration.¡± James'' face was bright until she said the last bit.


    ¡°But that''s exactly where we need to be looking,¡± he said, stammering.


    ¡°No.¡± She replied sharply. ¡°You know it''s too dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I know what happened to Garrett was tragic. I know that was a hard time and it has left its mark on you, and understandably so. Which is why I have a solution.¡± He seemed to hold for a moment to see if his peer would interject. She didn''t.


    ¡°Anybody that does find any, and most likely it will be inside a cave since the forest vegetation is so thick, will receive one quarter of the total expected expenditure, in Vega, for Steelfyre in the last year. This is entirely accounted for, as we''ve only had half purchases in the last two years prior, and this last year we couldn''t buy any. The Vega would be enough to start a definitive line, and we could establish a new trade for Metan. Nobody would be required to inspect the caves unless they chose to, and as a bonus, the remainder would go to the trappers, half Vega, half credit to the smith''s trade house.¡± He lowered his voice then, ¡°It would be enough to establish the Cooks, you could have legitimacy again.¡± He stalled a moment, ¡°And if you had legitimacy, I would be inclined to shift my support of the Weavers as village head. I owe the Hunts that much and more.¡± He grew more somber as he spoke, and by the end his face seemed pale. A long moment stretched, and even though Dorian couldn¡¯t see his mother, he could feel her calculating look.


    ¡°Fine, but not for a few years.¡± The other adult moved to speak, but Rita cut him off. ¡°Not negotiable, the terrain has been changing overmuch in these last few seasons. Cave exploration is dangerous, cougars and bears alike are a constant threat, there will be safety ropes made in case of sink holes, and none of this happens until we have an updated map with markers and a schedule. Three years at the very least.¡± Rita said, picking up her pace. As it became apparent, she was leaving the conversation, she turned her head and said, ¡°Gare would have done what he did ten times out of ten. I take no debt over it, furthermore I''m no Hunt. Not in earnest, not anymore.¡± She sped up and before twenty strides the smith seemed to be consumed by the other travelers walking the forest road.


    A year later, Steelfyre-seeking became the talk of the town. Hopes for riches and fortune had the village in an uproar. Dorian could hear the adults discussing it all day, and when his older brother came to pick him up from community care, he too spoke about it. Albeit, only with Dorian. "What do you think, Dorian? When you get old enough, we can go find it ourselves; we could be part of a recognized house!" Kurt''s voice grew louder as his excitement mounted. When people started staring, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "We could be present with the rest of the village''s proper houses, get an extra set of fine clothes from the monastery, and maybe you could even get lined up with one of the local houses. Since I''m the oldest, they''d probably send me to Gwendon to marry in one of the high houses. I hear that the Gwendon Tanners are all quite attractive." He seemed to drift off then, contemplating his own future and the uncertainty of hope. Maybe he''s not so bad, Dorian thought as he was carried home.


    So, for a long time, longer than he''d been alive, time passed with regularity. His parents didn''t argue as much as Dorian grew, however they seemed less passionate. Not that they weren''t middle-aged and in love, but that their responsibilities to the town and working towards their goal had them mostly occupied. For Dorian, that meant he could listen to his bedtime story, and was left to sleep, his parents trying to steal away any time they could in private. Of course, Dorian stayed up late trying to get his vocal cords to agree, and at the proper time he was successful.


    Every morning he was taken to be watched by the dreadful harridans of the village and was picked up by his ever-growing brother a few hours before sunset. Usually, Dorian would waste time wandering around the nearby playground. He wasn''t really interested in the obstacles, so he would climb the tallest structure, waiting for Kurt. Often, he would think to himself about the few lessons he received from the caretakers. Not that they were neglecting any lessons, just that the lessons were mostly things he had already picked up. He tried to pull the books down from the stone shelves in his own home but was frequently swatted at for attempting it. Until he was tall enough, or his lessons caught up, he would remain illiterate. It frustrated Dorian, which made him wonder if he should just ask his parents. It hadn''t been long since the sounds he made resembled the words he wanted. Though he wanted to talk, every time he thought about it, he heard his brother in his head, mocking him. Until, one day, his brother surprised him.


    Kurt still spoke to Dorian every day, about his hopes, his secret crushes, and what little he learned of woodcraft from the house. It was neat the way he would grow so excited about it, especially the insignificant details he learned that helped him puzzle out what kind of animal passed by.


    It was in the middle of one of these tirades that Kurt stopped and looked down at Dorian. Dorian was old enough, by this point, that he could walk himself home and nearly keep pace with his older brother. ¡°Why haven''t you spoken yet? I mean, you''re more than old enough. Mom and Dad are starting to worry that you won¡¯t be able to. The other kids I''ve seen your age say a few things, but Dorian, you''re so quiet.¡± A moment passed. Two moments, three. Kurt looked down at the ground, sighed, and began to walk away.


    ¡°What do you want me to say?¡± Dorian asked as his brother was walking away.


    Eyes wide as both moons on a clear night, Kurtis Hunt turned, mouth agape. ¡°It''s not like you ever asked me anything, you always ramble on about what you want to talk about. I mean, you could have asked sooner, I could always interact. But every time I tried when I was smaller, you would just laugh and mock me. And what about the sour goat¡¯s milk?¡± Dorian said, questioning. Though Dorian didn''t think it was possible, his brother''s eyes grew even wider.


    Kurt, nearly shouting, said, ¡°How much do you remember?!¡± Then, checking is volume, he ushered them to some trees off the side of the town road. ¡°Dorian,¡± Kurt asked, voice tense. ¡°Do you understand everything? Like, everything all the time, even when you were a baby?¡± Somberly, not sure why, Dorian nodded.


    Kurt''s breath hissed inwardly through his teeth. He took a deep breath after looking for eavesdroppers. ¡°Dorian, you can''t talk that much. And you can¡¯t talk like that, at least not yet. If you do, they''ll take you away to the monastery.¡±


    Disbelieving, Dorian said, ¡°that¡¯s not funny, Kurt. I''ve heard the caretakers talking about it. They said the ones that show the signs go and never come back. And they must live at the monastery until they ascend at eighteen. Nobody ever sees them after that.¡± Looking Kurt in the eye, Dorian saw his brother''s bright blue eyes tearing up.


    ¡°I know Dorian. You can''t tell anybody that you can talk like this, it''ll break Mom and Dad. When Melanie Weaver''s little sister Wendy started speaking out of the blue, like you just did, they took her. Said she was a Priorius and had to be prepared for Ascension. They took her and told her parents to forget about her, and the rest of the town should do the same. Just forget, like she wasn''t ever there to begin with. Dorian, our parents weren''t happy before you came. You can''t tell them, it will ruin them.¡± Kurt reached out, grabbing Dorian by the shoulders and looking him in the eye. Tears fell openly from his older brother''s eyes, when he asked, pleading. ¡°Please, little brother?¡±


    Eyes wide, Dorian nodded slowly and quietly said, ¡°Okay, big brother.¡±

 Chapter 2 - Youth

    Chapter 2


    I strain to remember the sensation of unbridled youth. Decades meander past like water in a brook, and most days become an unending cycle of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, revisiting the same experiences I''ve endured innumerable times. Were it not for the purloined Kraken, I suspect I would scarcely notice the passage of time. Another pointless ritual, a ceremony, a death ¨C all indistinguishable now.


    Perhaps it is time to acquire a new vessel; this one has served me faithfully for the past three centuries, but I fear my mind is beginning to fray. What was once a keen edge is now dull, though I am filled with trepidation at the prospect of the transfer. The thought of inflicting harm upon my psyche unnerves me ¨C a twisted mind inhabiting the body of a child? A young man? No, even if the toll is as steep as before, it remains preferable to losing everything.


    Trusting in his brother, Dorian took any advice Kurt had to offer. He explained that he should start with little words, and little phrases, and move slowly from there. They would wander off the path together on their way back home. Kurt showed him how to find small game up trees, what types of animals were good for hunting and what kinds needed to be hunted for elimination. The former was broken down into two groups, eadin'' and skinnin'', and the latter as ¡°pesseds.¡± Later he found his brother was saying ¡°pests¡± but missing some teeth made t''s a challenge for him. For some reason or another, he had gaps where they hadn''t grown in. Despite that his recent growth spurt left Dorian behind, and Dorian began to make out a shadow of what his brother would one day be. Broad like his father in the shoulders but not the chest, his dirty blonde hair hung straight and unkempt. He wore thicker hides for pants, better to break through the brush with, and his leather tunic was getting too small for his upper frame. He was growing up.


    Dorian on the other hand was nothing more than a big toddler, dwarfed by his brother and only friend, he struggled to keep up whenever they explored. Dorian could sense his brother''s impatience, so with diligence he kept along. ¡°Dad said if we go exploring, not to go too far off the path home. Says there could be cougars, or other predators.¡± Kurt spoke, slightly winded. Dorian nodded.


    ¡°You''ve been doing a really good job, I heard mom saying something about you catching up with the other kids your age. I think you should slow down a little, and just pay attention at daycare. You''ll get to start a trade soon, and since I''m trapping, you''ll probably get to learn from Dad.¡± Dorian''s brows knitted, ¡°But I don''t want to. I like exploring with you, it''s fun, and you''re the only person I can actually speak with. It''s so boring playing dumb all the time.¡± Dorian could hear the whiny tone in his voice. He didn''t like it.


    ¡°I know Dorian, don''t worry!¡± Kurt was suddenly excited, ¡°I''ll keep showing you all I can. It makes me better at it, and I''d like to cook some of the nicer things Dad can cook. I don''t always want to eat the community slop and bread. Cooking is an important skill, and if I''m on a long trap, I''ll have to live out of my pockets if I can''t cook. When you learn, can you show me? Fair trade, right?¡± Kurt put his hand out to shake, they clasped wrists. ¡°Fair trade,¡± Dorian shook, agreeing.


    ¡°Now that we have an agreement,¡± Kurt said in a boisterous voice, ¡°What do you say to making a bet?¡±


    ¡°What kind of bet?¡± Dorian asked warily.


    ¡°The kind blessed by Kressor. I still haven¡¯t made a wager for Kressor¡¯s day and I figure, who better to help me than you? So, I bet if I give you to the count of twenty, I can still beat you home.¡± He said.


    ¡°That''s not fair, it''s almost all uphill from here, and your legs are way longer!¡± Dorian said, outraged.


    ¡°Okay, okay. Fine, count of thirty and loser has to clean the dishes tonight.¡± Replied Kurt.


    ¡°Wait, I''ve never done dishes before, wont it look conspicuous?¡± Dorian didn''t want to raise any alarm, especially after the tedious process of only saying simple things. ¡°Hot, food, da, momma, brrr, and yucky¡± seemed to be the most appropriate at first, which evolved over several months to, ¡°too hot, I''m hungry, and that''s gross.¡± Maybe jumping straight to doing dishes correctly would be a leap too far.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Consicou-us? You mean fishy? Nah, I was doing dishes when I was younger than you, it''s time to teach ya. Besides, with a thirty count you might win.¡± Said Kurt, eyes tightening.


    ¡°I''ll agree, but I have one question first.¡± Dorian said. Kurt''s eyebrow lifted, and after a moment Dorian turned and shouted as he ran away, ¡°Can you even count to thirty?!¡±


    Dorian lost that race, and every race thereafter for three months. He got exceptionally good at washing dishes.


    Time passed with his brother quickly. Routines, as they were, seemed to blur together. Seasons came and went. On his thirty-second season, his eighth birthday, he was brought into the fold of the cooks. Dorian was initially worried that this was the beginning of the end, that his brother and him wouldn''t see each other anymore, that he would be figured out to be a Priorius and would be taken away from his family. Just the year before, Danny, the odd-looking kid that wiped his nose goop on the wooden toys, was taken. After he was gone, nothing changed. Like he had no impact on the world around him, like the ghost of a whisper, it was like he never was. That thought kept Dorian from sleep most nights.


    Despite his concerns, replacing daycare with cooking tutelage was an easy transition, excepting it was expected that Dorian could communicate well enough to take simple instructions. By the gods, it was such a relief to actually be engaged, rather than just passively muddling through his days by listening in on adult conversation.


    Dorian''s father, Rand, had a slight paunch, was patient, warmhearted, and was slow to anger. This was surprising to Dorian, having overheard many a heated match between his parents, and a few times now even his brother. It was like his father wasn''t a complete soul without his mother, and when they met the chaos of that interaction is what sparked real passion in the man''s life. It was sweet, in a chaotic and noisy way, and it made him glad his parents had each other.


    Throughout the first several weeks of cooking tutelage he had one job, turning the dough. Dad said that the only way to get it right was working at it hard enough to sweat into batch. Yeah, it sounded gross, but despite himself Dorian found it to be true.


    Before the first month was done, Dorian felt he could accurately gauge when the dough was sufficiently mixed and knew all the steps to prepare the loaves for baking the next day. He would prepare all the dough after it had set for several hours, loading the rolls onto flat stone trays that were unbelievably uniform. So uniform that he couldn''t help but be distracted by it, which is precisely when his father caught him.


    ¡°Done mixing, are we?¡± His father said, voice booming against the stone walls.


    ¡°Yep!¡± Dorian replied, playing the part of a naive child. ¡°Da, how are all the trays the same?¡±


    ¡°Noticed that, did you? I didn''t care to ask until I had forty seasons, at the least.¡± His father chuckled, ¡°Must be from your mother. Yes, they''re all the same Dorian, exactly the same. Some break, or are chipped, but when they were made, they were precise. We received them as a token of good will from The Monastery, all of ten generations back.¡±


    Dorian was eyeing one of the trays and decided to pick it up. ¡°So, they carved all these the same? But rocks aren''t all the same, and I''ve seen other rocks that look like this, they''re all spiky and sharp.¡± His brows knitted.


    ¡°Well, it''s the same way our homes were built, the same way the paths through the forest never get covered even though the rest of the forest can grow over a field in less than two years. They''re gifts, from the Gods.¡± His father sighed a moment, then decided to sit down. ¡°When kids start to grow up, they get curious. I''m thinking my boy here is going to grow up bright.¡± His father ruffled Dorian''s light brown mop.


    ¡°Many times, for reasons we don''t get to know, the Gods decide to show us their good will through the Priorius. I don''t know why, they just do. The same way we must plant beans to grow vines is the same way the Gods give to the monastery to show their kindness to us. The Gods do much for us, Dorian, and it always comes to us from the priests. Just trust, be grateful,¡± then he lowered his voice, ¡°but don''t depend on them. It''s a good man that can care for himself, and others, off the sweat from his own back. They say that Metae''s sin is pride, for she births change to the world. Pride, in small levels, can take anyone far, but too much of it is as bad as moldy loaves.¡± Dorian''s father smiled down at him, Gods, he''s humongous. Rand smirked, ¡°But don''t tell your mother that,¡± he said conspiratorially.


    ¡°What part?¡± Dorian asked, not sure if he should have just nodded.


    ¡°Neither.¡± His father said after pausing to think. ¡°Your mother has a fair bit of pride, well-earned you mind, but more importantly, don''t repeat the bit about the moldy loaves. Your mother will think it''s something different.¡±


    Rand stood then, dusting flour off his apron. ¡°Alright, breaks over. Have you gotten to the three hundred yet? If not, do so, if so, then I can show you how to start working the stone ovens today. Heck, in four seasons and you''ll get to do the wood cutting.¡± He smiled a self-satisfied smile, snapped his fingers and mumbled something to himself as he walked away, heading towards the ovens. Dorian thought he heard his father say in a sing-song voice, ¡°Starts the ovens, starts the stoves, count both the fingers and toes.¡± Even though he was Dorian¡¯s father, he still thought, ¡°what an odd man.¡±

 Chapter 3 - Time Passes

    No, no, no! They''re too much! I can''t anymore, there must be another way. They scream now, such sweet release that I find myself laughing as the sound echoes through the vastness of my mind. Other times, despite myself, I weep. My guilt is earnest, but... but I can''t deny the ecstasy of it.


    It can''t be long now, no. As a pioneer at the dawn of humankind''s ascension, breaking the rules of nature that governed us for so long became a perverse joy. The first elder, I took much from him, and his memories were the precursor I needed to create the key to existence eternal. Still though, he was right about one thing. It would take ages, many ages, to prepare the engine proper. The time is soon, and soon, I may let go, maybe join the two in the long sleep. Or perhaps, take for myself what had been so long in the making. Perhaps, despite my long commitment, my trust in their judgment has begun to faulter. I must stop this line of thinking. My laughter is too jarring to write clearly.


    Before the year''s end Dorian was taught how to take care of the ovens each morning, and how to load them properly. Luckily, his brother had shown him several ways to make a fire, and it was much the same as building a bonfire, just on a larger scale. When his father first forced the responsibility on him, Dorian wasn''t all too pleased. The logs were large, some so heavy he could only roll them into the chutes beneath the ovens. His father told him not to use anything he felt was too heavy, but despite his fast understanding and early memories, he still felt a desire to impress his father. So he did, heaving larger and larger logs to the chutes. It was challenging at first, but within a few months he was carrying logs half as heavy as himself to build those morning fires.


    Rand usually drank his morning tea while he went over current supplies, updating them from yesterday''s numbers. The lists were expansive, ranging from various seeds or meats, rendered fats, weight in flour, expected shipments in from the monastery, and total distribution measured against consumption. He had to supply various goods to exchange for supplies, which, Dorian found out later, supplied all the other trade houses with the necessities for their own crafts and public distribution. This included things like soap, gloves, twine, adhesives, and medicines.


    This led Dorian to a greater understanding of the economics of his village. The finer qualities of items were often harvested, whereas the lesser quality items were distributed among the general populous. This compelled others to upgrade or exchange, using Vega as the overt currency of exchange. In many cases one could upgrade to a higher quality or could simply exchange supplies. The trappers had to take their kills to the tanners, after the tanners were done, the meat would come to the cooks. The prime cuts could be purchased by anybody that wanted to exchange. If the meat was near spoiling it would be diced and distributed into various soups or dried up and salted to keep for the trappers. Nothing ever went to waste, but there were options to have better than most. It created a kind of class system, thus the high houses like the Hunts and Weavers, or the low houses like the Cooks. Some houses didn''t get names, like the general caretakers or the farmers. Dorian suspected it was because they simply had no way to rise above their peers as their responsibilities never included goods that could be used to up-trade.


    Biweekly, the supplies would come in with a Priorius priest, he would tally his ledgers off all the houses, and then distribute whatever was needed per house or trade. Then he would have a meeting with the village heads, and by nightfall the village would gather for the priest to preach about the gods. Typically, since not everybody showed up for the communal meal each night, they didn''t have to run ovens or produce bread at maximum capacity. Of course, each time that bastard showed up he had to work double-time to make enough dough, line the breads, and keep the furnaces fully stocked. There were other cooks and apprentices there, but none except his father and himself would be from the line, so he felt he had to work even harder to prove his worth.


    He knew it would make his parents happy to become an official house, they spoke about it often enough. Furthermore, the town treated them as though they already were, respected more so than any of the other houses. Whenever the subject was broached, his father would say, ¡°You can be mended by the caretakers, you can have an ax fixed by the smiths, but no matter who you are, ya have to eat.¡± It was a comforting thought to Dorian, and he wondered what exactly it would take for his house to be recognized.


    Of course, this led Dorian to thinking about the Steelfyre search. The trappers had gone past their previously expected deadline for completing their maps. According to his mother, the landmarks shifted so rapidly that if you were to fully explore the valley, the maps they made would be obsolete by the time they¡¯d finished them. Apparently, this was much faster than expected, and in extreme ways. Massive trees used for landmarks would somehow move up to the peak of a slope, streams and rivers shifting rapidly, which of course made trails throughout the woods solely navigable by the most experienced. Despite the challenges, the trappers had finished their maps. The foliage too thick on the ground floor to make out any sign of Steelfyre, the trappers had resigned themselves to mapping only the caves in their town district. There was supposed to be an announcement about the caves and relative plans that night, which, according to his father, meant more bread.


    So, the day that the priest would show up, Dorian was ready. He showed up extra early, sneaking out of the house before dawn. One might think it''s hard to sneak out of a small house, but when every inch of your house is made of cold polished stone, the only noise he had to worry about came from the front door. After making his way by starlight to the cookery, he broke in through a side window that he had left unlocked the night before.


    By the time his father had arrived, Dorian finished two batches of dough, and had most of the loaves of bread lined out on the stone trays. Interrupting his work, his father glared at him for a moment, then smiled.


    ¡°I see somebody wanted to get an early start. Or maybe you preferred solemnity?¡± He looked down at his son after inspecting both large troughs of dough. He lifted an eyebrow at Dorian then said, ¡°Did I show you how to prepare the dough for bread? I could have sworn I''ve only ever had you mix it.¡± The frank expression on his father¡¯s face had him feeling guilty. Had he forgotten anything? Yeast, oil, which herbs his father had planned to cook into the bread, which grains. Ah hell.


    ¡°No, nobody showed me. I''ve just seen you do it like five hundred times.¡± Dorian answered in his most innocent sounding voice. That one always worked to get him out of trouble.


    ¡°Oh, really now? If you can prepare a batch for me right now, and get it right, I won''t make you mix two more. In fact, if you prepare it correctly, I''ll mix it myself.¡± His father''s stare couldn''t be described as anything better than the petty mischief every master has on his face when teaching an assuming apprentice.


    Dorian met that stare with a half grin. ¡°I hope you''ve got your good apron pops!¡± He left to go get the measuring cups and proceeded to do exactly as his father had done when he made his best breads. He went through the process exactly, with the minor exception of one powder he had suspected being unnecessary, and a little more of another in its stead. He finished with a flourish.


    Rand rubbed at the stubble on his chin. Sounding resigned, he said, ¡°hmm, you''ve forgotten one ingredient. Looks like we''ll have to make two more batches.¡± Rand let out a sigh. He headed over to the last ingredient when Dorian moved to stop him.


    ¡°Wait Da, I know that goes in the mix but we should cook without it today. I noticed when we use this stuff the bread tastes fine by itself, but when we eat it with the elk it tastes gross. Without it, it''s a little thicker, so I added more of that stuff.¡± Dorian pointed to the bag.


    The master cook stopped, eyebrows knitting together confused. He thought for a long moment, thinking intently. So intently that Dorian could swear he could understand what he was thinking, something about how his father never actually supped with everyone else. The giant man harrumphed, checked the feel of the dough that was setting, then smiled.


    ¡°My, my, it seems I¡¯ve got a prodigy on my hands. Well done.¡± He said with a nod and a prideful smile. ¡°But¡± He said, raising a finger. ¡°That is the last time you try doing anything like this alone. That''s a lot of material gone to waste if it was wrong, furthermore, risking yourself at night without warning me is not the way my apprentices behave. So, from the way I see it, you''ve earned a punishment and a reward.¡± Dorian''s face drooped at the words.


    ¡°I''m sorry da-.¡± Rand cut his son off, ¡°No. Don''t apologize, you did this knowingly, and if you hadn¡¯t, I wouldn''t have seen you succeed. I''m not angry with your results, I''m unhappy about how you did it. Now, until noon, you''ll be stacking wood in level piles next to the ovens, after fully stocking them, of course.¡± Dorian had his hands in front of himself. He clasped one wrist, and vigorously inspected the floor. How does it get dirty so damn quickly?


    His father continued. ¡°Then, at noon, you will be taking the day to spend with your brother. I''m impressed you could remember all the steps, and you only had to see me do it, what? Five hundred times?¡± He smiled then. ¡°I''m also impressed with your work ethic, that''s something that should be rewarded too. I''ll think about that while you get to work. Go on, get to stacking, I''ll finish up here.¡±


    Dorian timidly made his way out back and began hauling wood onto his little tractor. It wasn''t anything but four rubber wheels connected to a perfectly shaped bed. There was a handle on the front that let him steer it. He didn''t really care for it much, didn''t even know why they had it since it was only good for hauling from the lumber pile to the back stairs. Then hauling and stacking up the stairs, and repeating.


    It was no surprise that Dorian began getting frustrated with the task. Some of the longer logs and cuts from those logs could burn for hours, and they would fit too, but getting them there was a hassle. It frustrated Dorian even more because he knew it wasn''t his fault, his body wasn''t that of a fully grown adult. In his frustration, he began skipping over the damn tractor, deciding to carry it on his shoulder, he managed to catch the sight of his father putting his dirty apron up.


    That was his only solace to his wounded pride considering his extra effort. A few hours passed, his frustration mounding, when he spotted a unique looking log hidden behind the stack of wood. The log wasn''t with the rest of the woodpile, and had different coloring, spotted black and white.


    By this point in the day many of the apprentices and older cooks had shown up and were preparing for the post sermon meal. As Dorian heaved on the large log, one of the older cooks saw him and shouted ¡°Rand, your boys about to blow out his back.¡± Dorian shot a glance at the old guy, he was wiry, bearded and bald. Dorian noticed the light reflecting off the man¡¯s scalp, the only indicator Dorian needed to identify him. It was Tanner. Not that he was a tanner, nor from the house of Tanners, or that he was born with the name. Everyone called him Tanner because the skin on his bald pate was so leathery that he regularly would steal rendered fat and coat his head with it. Dorian grinned and wiped the sweat on his brow into his hair to keep his vision cleared. He bent down, grabbed hold and yanked until he was red in the face. The log didn''t even budge it.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The old man burst out laughing. Dorian glared at first, but as the man kept laughing, Dorian¡¯s glare turned to an abashed frown. Then he started to blush, embarrassed. The old man came out, still chuckling. ¡°Wanna see something neat, boy?¡± Tanner asked.


    Dorian shrugged and nodded. Tanner took three squared off pieces of wood and balanced them to make a miniature arch. He then went into a shed that Dorian wasn¡¯t allowed in, brandishing an ax. He walked next to Dorian and said, ¡°Look at how tough it is. See this slant we¡¯ve got cut in here? I¡¯m gonna take a bit going sideways here.¡± He spoke in an instructor¡¯s tone. Several strokes later, the man sheered a half foot of the log off and bent to lift it. He lifted it with perfect working form, as though it were heavy enough to hurt him otherwise. He picked it up and waddled over to his makeshift structure. Lifting an eyebrow, he said, ¡°Ready?¡± and gently placed the piece of wood on the flat of the top piece. It began groaning, until finally the wood snapped in the middle, caving in the demonstration.


    Oh, gotcha. ¡°Heavy tree.¡± Dorian said, deadpan.


    Tanner smirked and pointed. ¡°That there is Gwam or Granite-wood. Gift from the Priorius monks, it¡¯s great stuff. Just that piece I cut off there will burn for days, and the shards and sawdust will ignite, making for a good fire starter. And if you leave the bark on, the twigs make for great candles. We call it granite-wood ''cause it¡¯s got that same spotted marking inside the wood instead of proper grain and ''cause it¡¯s denser than granite. Much denser, I think.¡± He looked away for a moment, as if confused. ¡°Anyhow, don¡¯t go playing around with it.¡± Then he turned, wondering why he babbled on to some kid, and left to return the ax to the shed.


    This was fascinating to Dorian, he thought that maybe he could take a piece to show his brother. He moved to the broken demonstration and tried to pick up the shard of Gwam. He may as well be trying to pick up his father. It was nearly noon, so he resigned himself to his duties, and continued to stack the wood for the ovens. When he had finished, his father said, ¡°Alright, go find your brother. He should be done early today as well. You two should have plenty of time to get into mischief before tonight''s sermon.¡± His father winked at him, then said, ¡°And don''t forget to bathe before you come to dinner tonight. That goes double for your brother.¡±


    Dorian turned to run out of the cookery, when he heard is father shout, ¡°You tell him I told you that!¡± Dorian smirked and ran out the back door, glad to be done with his duties for the day. He wanted to show his brother the piece of Gwam but didn''t want to come back to the cookery before dinner for fear of being put to work. So, before he left the yard and made his way to the trapper''s house, he decided to have another try at the chunk of wood.


    It was right where he left it, the piece of wood it sat on now curled around the Gwam hunk, like it was burrowing its way into the earth. Dorian bent down, taking the same form as Tanner, and tried to lift it with his legs. He pulled hard for a moment, noticing that the Gwam hadn¡¯t budged, he started to reset himself for another attempt. As he began to pull, he felt an odd sensation, it seemed to run across his entire body. It felt like hunger, but not in the traditional sense. It felt like an urge, a desire, like he desperately needed to concede to do something.


    So, he did that something, it was like forcing his willpower against a stone wall and pressing with all his might. The tension felt emotional, of all things. Searching himself, he noticed that if he focused on his emotions, he felt a strange kind of resonance. He felt his frustrations from the morning, and when the mixture of frustration became eminent, he felt the resonance begin to cascade. His emotions evolved and Dorian had to twist his intention. He backed away, or rather his self-control became evident. He took hold of the emotion that had taken him and honed it to a sharp and jagged point.Dorian felt his grip tighten as his muscles suddenly relaxed. He clenched his jaw, his focus on the piece of wood that defied his will. The sensation he had been feeling grew to a shout when he willed himself to control.


    The resonance found a harmony in his body, and astonishingly the Gwam wasn¡¯t so heavy after all. He stood right up, almost falling backwards as the expected resistance didn¡¯t match the reality. Hefting the chunk of Gwam, it suddenly became as light as any normal stick. He moved it to one hand, nearly falling over from the sudden shift in weight. After leaning to the opposing side to counterbalance, he snickered quietly to himself and made his way to meet with his brother.


    He was seldom left alone to explore the town, he didn''t mind exploring the town with his brother much, but this was a rare opportunity. They always took the same roads, and he was curious about a few that he had never been down. He knew his brother was at the trapper¡¯s house, a two-story building at the edge of the town limits. It was located next to the village amphitheater and capped the end of the road. Normally, he would just head straight there, but today he wanted to inspect some places without his brother''s guidance.


    He made his way down the dirt road, inspecting the buildings as he passed. There was a sizable fence in the area in the center of town, it was a place for people to socialize, but more importantly where they ate. There were benches, tables, and elderly scattered about at this time of day. He knew better than to go through it alone, too many questioning glances, and since the cookery would be coming to set up soon, he was loathe to get sucked back into work.


    Taking the long way around, he decided to make his way towards the weaver¡¯s house. Not to be confused with Weaver¡¯s house, the family home was located up a path on the north side of the village. Kurt had always wanted to inspect the all-female craft house, but the brothers were usually too shy. Kurt had visited the building before, while Dorian was still being watched by the village caretakers. Apparently, Kurt used to walk past it when he was younger, but the girls would always giggle at him as he passed. At first it didn¡¯t bother Kurt, until one day a shift occurred. He was suddenly bashful, the first and only time Dorian had witnessed his brother behave in such an awkward way. It was a puzzle he desperately wanted to figure out.


    With a crooked gate, he made his way towards the craft house. He passed the market square, several homes, the lumber mill, finally to the weaver''s house. The way the buildings were placed made it so he could cut through the side of the lumber mill and find himself looking at the side of the weaver''s house.


    Not seeing anybody, he made his move. As he cut through the bushes, he could make out sunlight reflecting off large windows, on both the first and second floors. The windows on the first floor were large, covering most of the wall, with the exception of the pillars that held them up. It was a large enough structure, but despite its size it had a beautiful design. Etched into the pillars, and remaining stonework, were lattices of weaves. Dorian felt a pang of curiosity as he saw the intricate patterns on the pillars. He wondered how the weavers made them and what they meant. It made the stonework look as though it was woven, and the attention to detail was so impressive he had to investigate further.


    Dorian approached the building to inspect it. As he did so, he heard a snicker from behind the glass. He turned and saw a group of girls pointing and laughing at him. Dorian had been limping along the road marveling at the stonework like a goon. He felt a flush of anger and embarrassment. He wanted to say something, but he didn¡¯t know what. Suddenly, self-conscious, he missed his footing and stumbled. Finally regaining his center of gravity, he looked up and locked eyes with someone through the glass. Embarrassed, he smiled at the brown eyes, and bowed as though he was putting on a show. She smiled at him, but it wasn''t a bright beautiful smile, it was more contemptuous than that. He frowned, not able to make her face out that well, the light still blinding him slightly, and decided to make his way along. He understood why his brother avoided this place now.


    He turned to leave, when he could swear, he heard something on the wind. Not loud but not subtle, like a clear whisper, ¡°Yeah, walk away, you clueless clodhopper, or we¡¯ll tie you up with yarn and hang you from the rafters.¡± He snorted to himself, showing a half grin at the joke. It was like he heard it in his head. Scowling, he thought back, ¡°Yeah, keep laughing, you haughty hags. Maybe next time I¡¯ll give you a taste of this log and see how you like it..¡±


    He heard a ¡°yip¡± from behind him, he looked back to see those same eyes on a beautiful girl, pale, thin, with high cheekbones. Her fine jaw was slack, eyes wide as she stared at him. Not one to overstay his welcome, he walked away, the Gwam stick giving him grief every step of the way.


    When he finally made it to the trapper''s house, the wooden log seemed to get heavier. He was feeling dizzy as he approached the wide two-story building. Not thinking anything of it, he made his way to the side that faced the forest, when he was nearly bowled over by Kurt''s oncoming mass. Kurt dodged nimbly but Dorian, already off balance, tripped over, skidding his side against the debris covered ground.


    ¡°Whoa there Dorian, I didn''t mean to run you over.¡± Kurt came to Dorian''s side to help him up. After taking the proffered assistance, Dorian made his way to the tree line, using a protruding tree branch to steady himself. ¡°Hey, you alright?¡± Kurt asked after inspecting his brother.


    ¡°I''m alright, just feeling a little dizzy. Check this out though, I brought it all the way from the cookery.¡± Dorian offered his brother the piece of Gwam. Not thinking anything of it he handed it over to Kurt. When Kurt lurched forward trying to hang on to it, letting it go only before it crushed his hand against the ground. ¡°Gods damn it, Dorian, what the hell is that?¡± He shook, then inspected his hand.


    Dorian burst out laughing, holding his gut as he rocked back and forth. Kurt wasn¡¯t amused but took his brother¡¯s mockery with a stoically proud expression. Finally growing animated, Kurt said, ¡°Really, what is that, Dorian?¡±


    Dorian proceeded to tell the story of how Tanner had laughed and laughed at him when he tried to lift the entire log. Kurt looked puzzled, ¡°if it''s so heavy then how did you get it here?¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± Dorian stammered, ¡°I carried it?¡± He shrugged. ¡°I went to pick it up later, and after a few tries, it just seemed to come right up.¡± He reached down and picked up the stick of Gwam. ¡°See?¡± He had to lean against its mass, despite only holding it in one hand.


    Kurt looked at it, and back at Dorian. ¡°Dorian, I think you should put that down, you don''t look so good.¡± His face was concerned.


    ¡°Fine,¡± replied Dorian nonplused. Dorian turned and tossed the stick at the tree he was leaning against. Instead of bouncing off the tree, the stick of Gwam seemed to melt into it, sticking directly to its trunk. Looking at his brother and seeing the confusion they shared, he went to retrieve it. It dislodged itself easily enough, leaving a significant dent in the otherwise pristine oak.


    Looking shocked, Kurt smirked and said, ¡°do it again.¡± Dorian did, this time throwing it like a dart. It sank right in, the tree melting around it. Dorian took it back out, thought for a moment, then stabbed it in the tree. It sank in. Looking at Dorian, eyebrows pinched, Kurt took hold of the shard of wood and pulled. It didn''t move. He tried harder, nothing. Laughing, Dorian took out the Gwam stick and started to toss it up to catch it again. That''s when he got dizzy and tossed the stick away from himself. He leaned back against the tree, hand covering his eyes trying to make the world stop spinning.


    ¡°Whoa, Dorian, you''re definitely not okay. How did you even do that? That thing nearly ripped me in half.¡± Kurt spoke while grabbing his little brother''s shoulders. He shook Dorian gently, and Dorian could tell he really wanted to know.


    Centering himself again, Dorian looked up at his brother, and felt another wave of vertigo. He looked at his feet, noticing blood there for the first time. His brother said, ¡°Shit, he doesn''t look good, so pale.¡± The panic was hard not to notice, but Dorian had little care for it save for his guts twisting. He looked at his arms, seeing that he was indeed very pale, and said, ¡°He can hear you. And he doesn''t feel very good.¡±


    Kurt, looking as dazed as Dorian felt, escorted him to a grassy patch and had him lie down. Dorian did so, only realizing when Kurt left to get help how absolutely shitty he felt. His head swam, his stomach was in knots, and his vision was going dim. The grass in front of him sounded to a newly realized bleeding nose. The droplets aside, silence enveloped him. His thoughts sought to fix whatever was going on. His mind raced as he remembered that feeling he had earlier when he lifted the granite-wood. That sense had never left him. Focusing on the pressure it caused, he grasped it mentally and let it go. Abruptly, the world stopped spinning, which made him sit upright. Looking for his brother, Dorian began to heave violently. The world spun once more, his vision blurred. The last thing he remembered before sleep took him was the taste of his own blood.

 Chapter 4 - Announcements

    Chapter 4


    Pioneer is true to who I am. After centuries, I have finally found a way to keep my demons at bay, at least for a time. It is unfortunate the experience I must go through, and that I must force it on so many innocent creatures is a shame. Some are more receptive than others, but with this intention I''ve kept experimentation quiet.


    One young vessel, primary of growth, had been allotted a right to experimentation so long as he worked towards my ends. I even held him from Ascension for a time, and the fool was such a zealot that he considered it a holy gift. Before I allowed his Ascension, he created a new species. This wasn''t the first species to be created, but it was one of the first non-floral.


    It was canine in base. Many primaries in growth started from canines, because despite our new transcendent abilities, fifty thousand years of forced evolution to better suit the needs of mankind gave many of the desired traits one would seek in a creature designed to our ends. After a perverse series of experiments, finally the Garrulous Ruina-Rutilo came to being.


    He dreamed then. He was being carried somewhere; he was in a cage. He was waiting for his mother to bring him fish, he was a grizzly, but still just a cub. He had just woken, he was trapped, his mother wasn''t there, and he was hungry. He sniffed, smelling man all about the chamber. Then, he was somehow out of the cage, in his own private cave. He was alone, but there was fish. He didn''t know much of anything, but he did know he was hungry. He interested himself in the fish, when light burst into his cave. The outline of a man backed by light. He said, ¡°So sorry little cub, but you won¡¯t ever know the difference.¡± Then the black came.


    Dorian woke, startled at his dream. He sat up, seeing blood on his hands, and bandages across his body. The blood smelt¡­ well, it made him kind of hungry. A woman popped up seemingly out of nowhere, a bowl of water in hand. She was a few years older than Dorian, and wore an expression that was lighthearted and pretty. She whetted a cloth rag, and began speaking as she cleaned him up. ¡°You''re at the caretaker''s house, your brother and mother brought you here. Quite a scare you gave them.¡±


    Dorian felt groggy, but no worse for wear. He looked about and asked, ¡°What happened?¡±


    Still spot cleaning spots on his face and arms, she said, ¡°You got a few cuts, and for some reason they didn''t clot which led to a lot of blood loss. Sometimes we must take special actions. Luckily for you, your cuts stopped bleeding before that happened. You''ll need to be on the lookout for the next few weeks. If you feel dizzy, or sick, you need to come right back. Also, if you have a craving for anything strange. Otherwise, if you''re feeling okay, you should be able to make it to the post sermon dinner. If you hurry along, you might be able to make it before village announcements, try to eat some red meats.¡± She stood as she finished speaking, then walked away. Dorian got the sense that he was somehow intruding, so he gathered himself and made his way to the town center.


    On the way there, Dorian passed the tanner house. As he did so he caught the scent of blood again. It made his stomach remind him of how empty it was, which in turn hastened him to make his way to the communal dinner. His family usually didn''t partake in the communal dinner, a luxury provided by a proliferate hunter and a fantastic cook. On days like today, however, he looked forward to the large gathering. Usually, this meant that his work for the day was done, and he didn''t have to do this again for a few weeks, but today it was the end of his body''s primitive protestations.


    As he approached, he noticed the relatively high turnout. Most of the people that technically ¡°belonged¡± to Metan were considered deep trappers, which really meant they lived in the wilds as they pleased. Most of the time, Deep Trappers, and their families, wouldn¡¯t show up for the communal gathering, and often avoided the sermons. There must have been more than seven hundred people there. There was an entire second half of the area that was seldom used, now sported as much as Dorian had initially assumed would show.


    He headed towards the comm


    unity tables which made a semi-circle around a center feature that the village heads would make announcements from. They would typically eat after a brief prayer from the priest, and a little while later, they would break for announcements. If you wanted to eat your food warm, you did so before announcements. When he arrived at his typical spot, the tables closest to the village heads, his brother shot him with a mocking look.


    ¡°Hello sleepy head,¡± Kurt smiled and gestured for Dorian to take his seat. ¡°I took the liberty of getting your plate ready, knowing it wasn''t like you to miss a meal.¡± He smirked at Dorian, thinking he was the wittiest person alive. ¡°You''re damn right,¡± Dorian replied, trying not to give rise to Kurt''s chiding. He could tell Kurt suddenly felt bad about it. Kurt looked about, hoping he hadn''t made a scene. Dorian sat just as the priest took center stage. He held his hand up for silence. When it came, the Priorius priest began.


    ¡°As we spoke of earlier, how Matae had taken her pride of change to Gwendos and was rejected. In her shame, she stole it away, for fear that Kressor would call to it, she hid it under her succor. Her pride, her sin, there was nothing to have if it were to be stolen by death. In her pride she left all her faith, and when Kressor did show, for he will show to us all eventually, he did so with the same rejection Gwendos had. For the sin of pride, Gwendos and Kressor, as the first of the gods, punished her. They took her pride, and imbued it with the essences it lacked, imbued it with life and death. This stole her pride and left her alone and gave the world Priorius to exact their will on this earth. Let us prove death-¡± the crowd then answered, ¡°By praising life.¡±


    That was always the signal that it was time to eat. He did so, with vigor. He overheard an elderly couple at an adjacent table commenting on the bread. Apparently, it was the best bread they''d had since they were children. It brought a smile to Dorian''s lips.


    Speaking through a mouthful of soup, Kurt asked, ¡°What¡¯s got you in such a good mood?¡±


    ¡°I made all the bread early this morning, it''s why I left before dawn. I didn''t want to spend the whole day rushing around to make it all.¡± Replied Dorian before taking another bit of bread and dipping it in his soup. It was good bread.


    ¡°Yeah, instead you spent your day getting nursed back to health. I knew you didn''t look so good earlier, had me outright spooked.¡± Kurt paused to swallow his mouthful. ¡°And I wanted to show you an abandoned den, the house keeps it there, so we know what to look out for. You probably won¡¯t ever have to know, but I still think it''s neat. Wanna check it out after dinner?¡±


    Dorian shrugged, ¡°Do you think we''ll have time?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Kurt pointed to the platform, ¡°Mom said she''d have two announcements tonight, said she''d have to stay late regardless. We should have time while her and Da are here doing whatever it is they do at these things.¡±


    ¡°Two announcements? I thought we were just going to get an update on the Steelfyre thing?¡± Upon hearing the word Steelfyre the rest of the table got quiet.


    Garrin, the tanner''s husband, raised an eye and asked, ¡°Know something we don''t?¡±


    Dorian, feeling abashed, put on his most innocent voice, ¡°No sir, just that me Ma would be speakin'' ''bout it tonight.¡± He looked at his hands. The older man wavered, then said, ¡°S''pose I''ll have to wait just like the rest of us. Shouldn''t be long now anyhow.¡± Almost on cue, everybody else at the table resumed their respective conversations.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The old man was right, not five minutes had passed before the village head, Agatha Weaver, began walking up the spiral staircase that surrounded the platform. The Priorius priest followed shortly behind her, holding his robe up as he took each step. She stood there, hand up, waiting for silence.


    It took the crowd several moments to calm, but when they did, Agatha gestured to the priest.


    ¡°We spoke of Metae today, and for good reason. Though she has always been one of change, the one to break the cycle of Kressor and Gwendos, she has always been the outsider. As such, it is divinely inspired that Metan would take this first step towards change. Metan has always been the furthest from the head of our faith, and always the different. Not only are you all furthest from the Priorius, but you also have the lowest population, the highest yield in furs, hides, breads, and herbal collections, and you stun our valley with the most prodigious crafts as well. It is as though each of you holds the ember of change in your hearts and it fuels your resolve. Through diligence, labor, skill and aptitude, you show homage to the gods. It is because of this that we wish to provide your village with a boon. The first of which is to support the search for Steelfyre.¡±


    The entire village shouted out in an uproar. Cheering people standing and clapping, the sound was so great that the table Dorian sat at began to shake from the cacophonous vibrations. The priest then gestured for everyone to quiet down, the crowd did so but reluctantly.


    ¡°What is the boon of support without its faculties, you may ask. You would be wise to do so, and so, for you the faithful, we bring those faculties. Show me your faith, and it will be rewarded. Let us prove death,¡± the crowd erupted in turn, shouting ¡°by praising life!¡± The priest repeated this twice more, and the table shook again with the sound of the roaring crowd.


    In all the excitement, something stole over Dorian. An aching pressure at his temples caused a tingling sensation throughout his spine. Everyone in the crowd had begun speaking at each other, and somehow, he knew he was the only one with eyes still on the priest. He had rolled up one sleeve, holding his forearm out in front of himself. He pulled something out of his robe and held it gingerly. From this distance Dorian couldn''t make out what it was, save that it was straight and dark. The priest pulled back for a moment and sunk the questionable object into his forearm.


    For a moment nothing happened, then the priest shouted at a volume Dorian didn''t think was possible. ¡°Then let the gods hear their faithful! Let us prove death!¡± The crowd shouted back ¡°by praising life!¡±


    On cue, the priest shot both arms down, and began to rise off the platform. There was a light in his eyes, which seemed ever more dominant by the darkness that silhouetted his shape. With darkness writhing around him, he was fully twenty feet off the platform, hovering nearly fifty feet from where Dorian sat. His arms shot out before him, the crowd had gone silent, then the old man groaned.


    The sound was the first thing he noticed, like stones grinding against each other, then the smell of fresh earth. The priest put his hand out and a beam of green-white light shot out from his palm. It illuminated the smith''s craft house, raining light over the structure as though it were mid-day. Then, like vines out of the earth, black stone grew upward. Shifting, coiling, and melting pursued, until the blackness seemed to suck itself in to the light, like lodestones, they met and pulled back to the priest. Left behind by the light and dark, was a building.


    Descending from the sky, the Priorius priest spoke again. ¡°And the gods did hear you, Metan! They bid me to bestow on you a stronger forge, for the Steelfyre you find will provide for all the valley! Know the burden you carry, to find the Steelfyre, and to give it back to the world that has supported you. The gods have shown me their desire to see you succeed, Metan! Prove death by praising life!¡±


    The crowd, and even Dorian, roared with approval. Some pumped fists, others clapped and cheered whooping over the display. Noticing the older man stagger out of the corner of his eye, Dorian thought the old man would topple off the center platform, but Agatha Weaver was there to hold him up. They exchanged some words while she steadied him. He reached inside his robe, pulling out a stone flask. He unfastened the top and took a long drink. Suddenly steady, he raised a hand and spoke.


    ¡°Please, people of Metan, I humbly beg you heed the warnings of the gods. If the Steelfyre isn''t found within one year, the gods will take their price.¡± The crowd, now silent as stone, held their collective breaths. ¡°Fear not, just know that even the Gods barter. If you allow lethargy to stymie this divine favor, then their vengeance shall be swift and brutal. I am done speaking for tonight. Heed your leaders, praise your gods, and fulfill your duties. Agatha.¡± The priest bowed his head at the village matriarch and made his way down the stairs.


    Before the priest had finished leaving, Agatha spoke clearly, but nothing as pervasive as what the priest had done. ¡°Thank you, high priest. Praise be to the gods.¡±


    After a reverent moment, Agatha began her announcement.


    ¡°It is with great pleasure that the Priorius, and thereby the Gods, support this endeavor. The long-awaited maps have been concluded!¡± The crowd, already assuming this, cheered a bit, but quieted down quickly. ¡°The Hunts have concluded their work, finding a total of forty-seven different entrances to caves lining the southern valley wall. We will begin scouting parties within the month, so expect some changes. Remember, we''re not just doing this for self-gain anymore. Our children will need this, and their children as well. This will bring prosperity to our village, it will strengthen us. Despite our size, I believe we can become the envy of the valley, and this path can take us there.¡± A few people murmured their agreements. ¡°Here, with the wilds at our front door, we know how treacherous a path can be. Luckily, in our small community, we have the most prestigious Hunt in ten generations to guide us. Rita.¡±


    The village leader left the stage, allowing space for Dorian''s mother to take center. This was the usual routine as far as announcements went. The specific craft heads would take stage, announcing anything of import, and yielding to the next head. Past the third speaker announcements were generally voluntary, but the first three carried information that would be pertinent for the next foreseeable future.


    ¡°Hello all. I generally don''t take stage so early on, so I appreciate this rare opportunity.¡± Rita nodded at Agatha. ¡°So, before I begin explaining exactly how we''re going to engage in this hunt for riches, I sadly will not be able lead the venture personally.¡±


    Looking around, people were confused, muttering concern to each other. Dorian looked back to his mother. She met his eye and smiled. ¡°As verified by the gods earlier tonight, the cooks will be cooking for one more.¡± For the briefest moment, the yard quieted. The silence broke when Dorian''s father, Rand, sprayed the ale he was drinking. He followed that up by coughing and sputtering. Comprehension dawned on the crowd, and laughter erupted outward. The other village heads joined in, patting Rand on the shoulders. His eyes were plates of marble.


    Smiling, Rita held a hand to her stomach and stretched the other one outward, asking for quiet. She carried on. ¡°The last twenty seasons have been outrageously challenging. Our previous maps no longer held accuracy, considering how thick and dangerous the woods can be, we took much longer than expected. That said, after the maps were completed, we set up several safe stations along the trails. The cleared paths may be able to get us through the woods quickly, but the back trails are rough rugged terrain. So much so, that mapping the southeastern area took four days to hike through. My point is, this will be dangerous, so only volunteers that are healthy enough will be joining the cave scouts. Nobody younger than majority, nobody with dependents, excluding my scouts of course. That means roughly less than half of you will be available to go. Excluding those of you that are advanced crafts-women-or-men, leaves us roughly one hundred and fifty candidates. I know this sounds small, but it''s more than one sixth of our current population. We will be having discussions with the various trade houses to provide support for this endeavor. So, in a way we all will be volunteering time and energy, so don''t feel left out. We need everybody if we''re going to provide for the valley.¡±


    Somebody four or five tables down took the opportunity provided by Rita''s pause to shout, ¡°And for the Cooks!¡± Several people followed the comment up with a ¡°here here!¡± His mother just smiled toothily, and proceeded to fill in more details about how things would change in the coming months. She was a good speaker, the crowd seemed to hang on her every word. It was like his mother had something divine to her now, an iridescence. Like this was the exact place and time she should be. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Dorian saw the village head and the priest make their way quietly away from the head table. They drifted away, speaking quietly after they were out of the torchlight. The priest was escorted off somewhere, his strides shaky. He stopped for a moment, and looked back, directly at Dorian. His eyes were lit with a pale green, there was little, if any, sanity in the gaze.


    Dorian snapped his attention away from the priest abruptly, and when he did the area where the priest had darkened and lost all clarity. He looked back to his mother, who was just finishing her announcement. As she was the last of the first three, she had to finish it by saying, ¡°May Matae show kindness.¡± It was ritualistic, he remembered the priest talking about the phrase some several weeks ago. Something about how change is inevitable, but it was best to hope for good change over bad, though Dorian was sure it was usually a toss-up.


    She said the words, and most everybody leaped up, starting conversations with their families and friends. There was an excitement to the air, an electricity Dorian wanted to rejoice in. He and Kurt made their way to their father, their mother meeting them at the other side of the head table. His father was red faced, and teary eyed.


    Rand suddenly vaulted the table in front of his shocked family. Dorian always had a suspicion the old man was surprisingly athletic underneath his baker''s gut. Rand stood tall, looking his wife in the eye. He grabbed her shoulders, let out a nearly inaudible sob, and embraced his wife. Even as a child, Dorian knew he was intruding. Kurt piped up, ¡°Can we, ugh, go and-,¡± Their mother cut Kurt off quietly, but in a way that made her sound louder than the priest. ¡°Go,¡± she said, gesturing with a hand but keeping her eyes on her husband. She didn''t have to say it twice.


    Turning to run, she voiced a noise from her throat that all young boys know as the ¡°stop whatever the hell it is you''re doing and pay attention¡± sound. They stopped, started to turn together, when she said, ¡°Not too late boys. Before mid-moon, first moon, not the second.¡± The two of them looked at each other, looked at the moons, and ran off. Dorian could swear he heard chuckling from both his parents as he and his brother raced away.

 Chapter 5 - To the Wilds

    Chapter 5


    Garrulous Ruina-Rutilo, or better known as the Garru, were the masterpiece of a life committed. Those ancients that contributed to the progression of science and art should shake in the aftermath of what I have created. No, not I, not at the time¡­ Sadly, despite consuming his essence within moments of release, I can''t recall his name. I often think about that, and when I funneled the clot of his soul into the reservoir, to my surprise, the process of creating the Garru was one that remained.


    The ingenuity of its creation was paramount to our progression. Now, costing little, the burden of so many lives could be unleashed. Sometimes the madness still takes me, but the pain isn''t so untenable as it was before. In some cases, I cannot remove the painful bits of Kraken, and those are the parts that remove my clarity. The local wildlife still supports a fair bit of that, but the Garru have an astounding aptitude of containing and even digesting Shade. Whether it be Garru or other predatory species, the recipients are never willing. It''s not proper, but I still find myself laughing when I''m done forcing that dark stain upon them.


    The changes to the cookery were relatively simple. Instead of soups, stews and soft breads, Dorian now made hard breads, salted and smoked meats, and left the vegetables raw. The supplies would be sent out weekly and would have to keep for seven days at the least. This was the responsibility of the cooks to the scouts, their part in supporting the search for Steelfyre and mapping the ever-changing Wilds.


    The scouts, really just the trappers with a new title, would take small groups to the cave sites. They would set up camp there, and spend their days literally tied together. The scout head, and one or two assistants, would explore the cave system, mapping as well as they could as they went. They were looking for signs of Steelfyre, whatever they were, but also ensuring they wouldn''t be lost. It also ensured that they had an idea as to where they could start a quarry if they were lucky enough that the cave ran back under the valley. This was preferred, as the valley walls apparently rose over three hundred feet at the base. If the cave didn''t double back, they could simply widen the cave entrance, but less underground meant more safety. Cave ins were frequent enough to be a constant concern, as though the ground were a living thing reaching out to cut at you. Dorian found it difficult to believe that there was any danger below, but he decided not to comment on it.


    He tried to say as much to Kurt but hadn¡¯t had many chances to until his tenth birthday. It was the middle of autumn, the air was just cool enough to warrant more clothes but still warm enough that they weren¡¯t entirely necessary. The leaves had begun changing colors, some vibrant and entrancing, but there weren''t any that had shed their leaves entirely. The wind was more active, however, which was a frequent problem in the fall time. The shape of the valley itself made some of the windstorms unbearable, which dawned the understanding of why everything was made from stone.


    His birthday was sometime during the week, but the village had a ritual to celebrate birthdays on the first day of the week. He wasn''t really sure why they did this, they just did. There was something to be said about individuality in Metan, there wasn''t any. Well, perhaps there was some, but unless you distinguished yourself in your trade, it seemed to Dorian, you were just another wheel in the chain of wheels that kept the village moving forward.


    His birthday ¡°day¡± was fraudulent to him. He had paid attention and knew his lunar cycle. There were four weeks a month, which was exactly the cycle of the first moon, and the cycle of the second moon was the month itself. When he was born, one moon had lapsed in front of the other, casting a shadow on the second moon in a perfect circle. He had seen it but hadn''t thought anything of it at the time, he was more concerned with what the word ¡°circumcision¡± meant. That wasn''t a pleasant memory.


    For what it was worth, he was always overjoyed by the private occasion. It wasn''t that he felt like his birthday should be a holiday, but he did feel that getting a break from the routine was a just reward. Furthermore, he enjoyed his brother''s birthday just as much as his own. Typically, they would steal away and terrorize some of the other craft houses or simply get lost exploring the wild woods.


    One time, as a cruel prank, Kurt and Dorian broke into the weaver''s guild house and laced most of the twines and wood reeds with itch-weed. It wasn''t harmful, nor would it leave a rash, but it itched to damnation. When they did this, it was with the patience of a lion. They picked the itchweed carefully, Kurt having gotten some on his arm but had a salve nearby. He was still itchy for nearly three days. After it had been dried, they ground it to a powder and kept that powder in stone jars. When the day came, they knew that one of several weavers would have to set out tomorrow''s reeds and twines to dry after a steam treatment followed by a wash.


    They acted with a quickness, but not without care. Slinking along the wood line, wearing leather gloves and using some cloth to cover their faces, they were ready. As soon as the Woman went inside the two brothers stalked out like they were the embodiment of stealth. Dorian went to the drying rack and doused the reeds in fistfuls of powder. It took him no less than thirty seconds to empty his jar, at which point he lowered his body and stalked back to the tree line. Shortly thereafter, Kurt joined him, and both of them struggled to keep their laughter to themselves as they trotted the long way back to their home.


    When they had gotten out of earshot, they burst out laughing. Nearly toppling over themselves in childish glee, Dorian asked, ¡°What took you so long? I figured you''d be waiting for me, you being nearly six foot tall and all.¡±


    Kurt smiled sheepishly, hardly containing himself he said, ¡°You know how they have those reference baskets? They keep a few scattered about for the novices to use as an egsample.¡± He was, oddly, still missing a few of his lower teeth, and his pronunciation still suffered for it. All the same, Dorian nodded after thinking about the baskets. He thought it was odd that Kurt knew enough about them, since Dorian was usually the one to notice finer details like that. Kurt grinned his boyish grin, ¡°I stashed a few snakes and geckos between them!¡± As he spoke, his laughter bubbled out, making the end of his sentence almost unintelligible. When Dorian realized what his brother meant he joined him for another long bout of laughter.


    Two days later the shrieking could be heard all the way from the cookery, and Dorian had to hide himself in the storage closet for fear of being figured out by his father, he stifled his laughter with a spare apron and did his best to clear away the tears from his eyes before returning to work. When his father concernedly asked him if he was okay, he only smiled and nodded.


    Keeping themselves from bursting into laughter at the communal dinners that week was the hardest thing Dorian, and probably Kurt, had ever done. They had gotten away with it like a bandit raccoon stealing garbage in the middle of the night. The only hitch was that brown eyed girl that had eyed Dorian the last year, she seemed to spend an inordinate time eyeing and scowling at them. Still, if she had figured it out, and Dorian had no idea how, she obviously had no way to prove it. It was a very small hitch in an otherwise perfectly executed plan celebrating his brother''s thirteenth birthday.


    This, and many other pranks and adventures, were the reasons Dorian loved birthdays. It was time he could spend just being himself, and, as an added bonus, with his only real friend. He played along with some of the other kids but did what he could to avoid them. He knew if he spent too much time with children his own age, they would figure out that he was odd, so he spent his own time in solidarity, reading or exploring the vastness of his backyard, if he wasn''t with his brother.


    That year they had no large plans, they simply had the day free. Dorian, being only ten, couldn''t be left alone during the day, couldn''t go with his father because that would defeat the purpose of having the day off, and his mother was too busy organizing the scouts in their cave explorations. So, Kurt got the day off too.


    They both slept in late, missing sunrise by an hour or two. The morning was a bit on the windy side, the gusts stirring the autumn leaves off their birthplaces to cover the forest floor, and whipping them about in beautiful cascades of red, orange, and yellow. After having some goat cheese and bread to break their fast, Kurt asked him, ¡°What do you want to do today?¡±


    Dorian shrugged, not having put any real thought to it. Kurt smiled, ¡°Well, since my thirteenth I''ve been allowed to go farther into the wilds. There''s some neat stuff out there, and I can show you some more woodcraft if you like, and there''s a really nice pond. It''s so clear you can see straight to the bottom on a clear day.¡±


    Dorian was a bit indifferent, part of him craved the excitement of what they had done to the weavers, but another part simply wanted to break routine. Knowing there would be a touch of excitement to going deeper into the Wilds, but not so much that they could get in serious trouble, Dorian acquiesced.


    Kurt got a mischievous look in his eye. ¡°Dorian... Do you know how to swim?¡±


    Dorian thought back to when he was just a babe, laying about in the stone bathtub, he wanted to try and float by himself then, but his mother wouldn''t take her eyes off him. Coming back to the moment, Dorian shook his head, ¡°No, I don''t think I ever had a chance to.¡±


    ¡°Great! Bring a change of under-britches, the linen ones not the leather, the leather will be too heavy and will take the day to dry.¡± Kurt headed to his room and got out a pack, and grabbing a woven basket. He walked over to Dorian, handing it to him. ¡°Happy birthday little brother.¡± He smirked down at Dorian.


    Half giddy, he opened the basket to reveal a set of thick leather pant covers. They were fashioned like his brothers, something only the trappers were allowed to wear, and had a thin layer of black fur lining the inside. It was incredibly soft on the inside, while still hardened leather on the outside. Dorian was shocked with delight.


    ¡°How did you-¡± Kurt cut him off, gesturing. ¡°Called in a favor from the tanners, I had a lucky catch a few months back and caught a cougar cub. Had them make me this in exchange for the hide, and that,¡± Kurt rubbed the back of his head, ¡°I didn''t report it.¡± Dorian could tell that his brother felt a little bit guilty for the last part but was shining with pride otherwise. Dorian smiled, trying it on. The straps weren''t long enough to get around the waist. He frowned.


    Kurt chuckled, ¡°That''s what you get for being a cook. Maybe lay off all that delicious bread you''ve been making?¡±


    Dorian looked mock offended, ¡°How does a master baker become a master baker without sampling his work? It simply doesn''t happen.¡± He waved a hand at his brother, shooing the argument away. A large part of him wanted to take offense, he had noticed that, compared to his brother''s lean build, Dorian was lacking a bit of muscle and made up for it in a layer of fat. Maybe he was being defensive, but the facts were the facts, and he couldn''t argue with something that was undeniably true.


    His brother smirked at him, and despite that smirk, Dorian knew there was nothing but love and humor behind it. Knowing that there wasn''t any condescension behind the look, Dorian felt awful. ¡°I''m sorry big brother, I let you down. It''s a great gift, but I don''t think we''ll get a chance to try it out today.¡± Kurt stopped grinning, looking quite serious.


    ¡°Don''t think for a moment you''re getting out of this.¡± Kurt turned, rummaged through his room, until he voiced a victorious, ¡°Ha-ha!¡± Coming back to the common room, he took Dorian''s gift in hand and attached another strap to the waistband, the new extension closing the distance caused from Dorian''s girth.


    ¡°Ahh, I see. Quite profound. Maybe I''ll have a few sets of those made, if I''m heading down the same path as Dad that is.¡± Dorian, despite himself, thought it was a good idea.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Kurt said, finishing the process. ¡°You could keep the extras about, and when something doesn''t fit right you can hop right out,¡± Kurt did a little hop, taking the stance of a triumphant leader. Speaking in gusto he said, ¡°I see you haven''t the cloth to cover that which is rotund!¡± He held a finger to the air, chest out he continued. ¡°So, I present to you, the profundity of your rotundity! You may bow to your savior.¡±


    Smiling, Dorian gave a slight bow from the waste, ¡°All hail our savior, may we gorge ourselves on moldy loaves in your glorious honor.¡± After a moment they burst into laughter at each other.


    ¡°Moldy loaves?¡± Kurt asked.


    ¡°Something Da said once but told me not to repeat. Said Mom would''ve had his hide for it. I don''t really get it.¡± Dorian shrugged.


    Kurt looked thoughtful for a moment, frowning and stroking his chin where there might one day be whiskers. ¡°Maybe...¡± Kurt made a gesture at his chest. Looking quizzical, Dorian said ¡°Idunno, I''m only ten.¡±


    Giving Dorian a frank look, Kurt quarried, ¡°Maybe the loaves get moldy because the oven is cold?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that''s not too shabby.¡± Dorian gestured, ¡°oh that''s not too shabby at all. Quite clever, but not as clever as ¡®the profundity of your rotundity.¡¯ To be honest, Kurt, that''s quite clever. Who did you steal it from?¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Kurt looked at his brother as they made their way out of the house into the cool autumn wind, his face one of serious offense. ¡°I''ll have you know that''s a big bro'' original.¡± Dorian harrumphed, inspecting his new brush pants. He found that he had to wear it extra high, nearly to his chest, and on the front of the pants were two separate brands. Curious, Dorian asked, ¡°Despite being too small to get around me, they might be a bit long for me.¡±


    Kurt looked pensive, ¡°Well, I fully intend that we get a lot of use out of those, assuming you won¡¯t stop growing I made a rough guess at how you would grow into those. Who knows though, you might not grow another inch.¡± Kurt shrugged.


    Dorian, terror filling him at the thought of being four and a half feet tall for the rest of his life, socked his brother in the arm. Kurt punched his little brother back, just once, and with a deftness that left Dorian rubbing his shoulder. ¡°Okay, maybe not the right path to take. Still, that doesn''t sound very fun.¡±


    Laughing out loud, Kurt replied ¡°Maybe not for you. I have devious plans for you Dorian... First, we run you ragged, until you''re paper thin, then we feed you lots of that Kressian dish you like, you know, the one that gives you bad gas. Then we leave you in the weaver''s craft house next to the vents. There will be shrieking women running all the way from Metan to Gwendon.¡±


    Dorian snorted, ¡°No my brother, they will ascend with the Priorius, making the journey that, prior to this incursion, only the divine could make.¡± Though Dorian was still playing along, Kurt got suddenly quiet. They made their way down the road until Dorian asked, ¡°I can''t really see the brands, what are they?¡± Dorian got a sense of pride from his brother. Not looking back, Kurt said, ¡°One says DC, for Dorian Cook. The other is DH, Dorian Hunt. You might not keep the trade, but no matter what, you''ll always be my little brother.¡±


    Dorian, having never been in a fistfight, felt like he''d just been knocked flat on his ass. He choked up for a moment, cleared his throat, and said ¡°Where to next, oh mighty trapper?¡±


    They walked for a time, heading well past the furthest Dorian had ever gone with his brother. As far as he could tell, they were southeast of the town of Metan, if they headed in that direction long enough they would come to the valley''s edge before anything else of note would appear. Of course, that would take days, but it let Dorian know that it was all wilds from where they were all the way out, the only way back to civilization would be to go back the way they came.


    This did send a bit of fear into Dorian. His senses became heightened, the notion of possible danger at every turn. With those heightened senses, he started noticing vegetation he had never seen before. The trees near the village were composed mostly of birch, maple, pine, and beech. He didn''t know what types of trees were around him now, but they looked nothing like what he was used to.


    Quiet and instructive, Kurt spoke up. ¡°This is exactly why it gets so dangerous out in the wilds. Theres a reason we must learn for most our lives to travel to these places. The flora and fauna changes rapidly, in less than a day''s walk we could go from rubber trees, ipes, xotes, and a whole slew of others, to massive fruit bearing trees that grow pears, apples, and oranges. Some say they''ve found Gwam growing wild and that their fruit could feed you for weeks. Apparently, not only is the fruit so heavy that you can''t move it by hand, but it¡¯s heavily guarded by the wildlife. I even hear that near the north, west of the monastery, they have redwoods so large we could fit our village inside them. The soil isn''t like the soil we have in the village, it supports the vegetation growth to a degree that would be unmanageable by human hands. The wildlife is just as expansive, and the further we get from the village the more dangerous it gets. I''ve even seen some things, Dorian, that would give you nightmares.¡±


    The sincerity and solemnity in his voice wasn''t muddled even though he spoke in a whisper. Kurt was haunted by something, Dorian could tell, but there was more. Not one for subtly, Dorian simply asked. ¡°What happened, Kurt?¡±


    Kurt stopped, grimacing and letting his shoulders sag. ¡°I found what was left of two or three people. There wasn''t much of anything to be honest, but the Gods only know what kind of horror those people had to live through before the end.¡± A pause, then Kurtis spoke to himself, ¡°If he saw he''d understand. If he saw how they fought, if he saw the carrier pack for the small child, he might understand. No, this one is for you to carry.¡±


    Dorian furrowed his brows, ¡°Is it on the way? I''m not curious for some sick reason, but I''d like to know, for your sake.¡±


    Kurt looked back and saw the resolve on Dorian''s face. It was stern, more adult than anything Kurt could muster, he knew, and grimaced. ¡°I buried the remains already, there''s nothing to see now. There was an attack, and it''s nothing anyone should have to see.¡±


    Speeding up, Dorian found himself in stride with his older brother, despite their differences in height. Kurt kept lead, directing them through the brush. Every once in a while, Kurt would stop to elaborate about different flora, various herbs that had medical qualities, berries he could eat, berries he couldn''t eat, and so on. Eventually they came across a tall sapling that had Kurt nearly leaping for joy.


    ¡°It''s a line tree!¡± Kurt exclaimed, pulling Dorian over to inspect it with him. The tree was roughly fifteen feet tall, slender enough that Dorian could almost get a single hand around it. Kurt took his pack off and got out a hatchet. ¡°These make the best... well the best everything really. Great for staves, especially if you''re hiking.¡± He splayed his hand out, implying Dorian should move back, Dorian did so. Kurt continued as he began to chop at the thin tree. ¡°They make great longbows too, the bark can be shaved to make incredibly durable weavers reeds. They''re super light, despite being hard as rocks. In fact, I wouldn''t be able to harvest it if I hadn''t ¡°borrowed¡± mom''s steel hatchet.¡± He shrugged guiltily. ¡°When it gets wet it becomes easily malleable, so if you carve the ends right it can be shifted from stave to bow in short order. It doesn''t burn well, but whatever part of it is burned won''t take to the water anymore, so if you put a point to it and fire the tip, it''ll be months before you need to run any maintenance on it. Oh yeah, the kicker is you can grow a new stalk from the branches, and each branch will either grow at a ninety or a forty-five degree angle. When they root, they do so with three flat protrusions.¡± His face took on the expression of a man expecting understanding. He paused for a moment. ¡°Oh come on. Really?¡±


    ¡°What? Three rivulets off the root and I should applaud you or something?¡±


    Kurt sighed. ¡°I suppose you can lead a goat to water.¡±


    ¡°What? I don''t get it.¡± Dorian was feeling peeved, he didn''t like not understanding something, especially when it''s expected of him to do so.


    ¡°If,¡± Kurt stopped chopping and put a finger up, ¡°You get to the saplings at the right time, each one makes a pretty uniform arrow. All you have to do is wet the ends of the roots before firing, a little spit does the job fine.¡± He returned to his chopping.


    Dorian looked pensive for a moment until he made a thoughtful sound. ¡°Sounds like pretty handy stuff. Why don''t we have tons of it?¡±


    Kurt replied, trying to catch his breath, ¡°It doesn''t grow well close to town. Every time we try, they don''t take, and if they do they take a mortal age to grow. Then the goddamn weavers-¡± Kurt''s eyes shot to Dorian for a moment before resuming. ¡°Few months back, mom was all kinds of pissed about them. Apparently, since the weaver is also the town head, she gets first dibs on the yields, which she of course took for the weaver''s craft house, then used it to up-trade for a bunch of higher quality supplies for herself and the rest of the house. Mom said it was¡± his voice went up an octave, ¡°an utter misuse of power and resources for her own personal gain.¡± Kurt stood up, then leaned against the tree while he caught his breath. ¡°Which she''s not wrong, that was bear shit.¡± He continued talking after catching his breath for another long moment. ¡°She harvested all of it then, we''ve been on the lookout for more since-¡± He was cut off by the tree finally giving way to his weight. Kurt almost fell, almost caught himself, then tipped over just like the felled tree.


    After Dorian laughed at his brother for a bit, Kurt got up and started measuring. He hauled up the line tree and brought it next to Dorian. ¡°Let¡¯s see here,¡± Kurt pulled out a pocket knife and measured about a foot over Dorian. ¡°What''cha doing there, Kurt?¡±


    ¡°Well, the base of it won¡¯t do us any good either way, but it''s tall enough to make a stave for each of us. The top has a ring of branches I''ll cut up and plant by a landmark. I''ll take a few branches with us, should be able to start growing a few back home. It''ll be enough to keep everyone else''s grubby hands off our rightfully earned treasure.¡± Kurt looked rather smug for a moment, then said, ¡°Shouldn''t take more than a half hour. We should still be able to get to the pool before noon, we might even speed up with some walking sticks. Say, would you mind hacking your piece off while I make a fire? I''d like to get some points on the bottom ends. I should have grabbed a proper spear before we came this far, it just slipped my mind.¡± Before Dorian had a chance to protest, Kurt was already grabbing some sticks and clearing space for a fire. Damn.


    Dorian almost said something about how it was his day, but kept his mouth shut realizing how ungrateful that would seem. He picked up the hatchet that his brother left behind and started hacking. His brother shouted from some twenty yards away, ¡°Make sure to use your body weight when you swing, you''ve got plenty to spare!¡± Dorian almost shouted back something profane but decided to take his lumps. He had gained some weight after all.


    The hatchet that his brother wielded with one hand was too heavy for him to hold in the same fashion. Bearing the hatchet like it was an ax, Dorian found the mark his brother made, wound up and swung as hard as he was able. He barely left a mark.


    Glaring at the wood like it had just insulted him, Dorian swung again. Not even a mark that time. Frustrated, it brought to mind the experience he had with the Gwam. Gripping that frustration with his mind, he nibbled at it. Feeling a pressure like his bones wanted to jump out of his body, Dorian swung with all he had, shutting his eyes and grunting just before the hatchet met the line tree. A loud ¡°chink¡± sound echoed through the wilds. Opening his eyes, he had sheared straight through the tree and buried the hatchet several inches into the ground underneath it.


    He inspected the cut, it was smooth. Feeling quite smug about it, he pulled the hatchet free. Suddenly, it wasn''t so unyielding. Taking it in one hand, he put his foot on his part of the tree and cut the bottom end, the one Kurt spent all that time on, into a crude point. For whatever reason he still felt a bit of that frustration. Kurt called out again, ¡°The top part, where the branches are, should still be green. It''s pretty soft, like you, cut that off and bring it to me when you''re done.¡±


    Mumbling his curses, he went to the top of the tree, found the spot where the green and brown met, and in one deft swing severed it cleanly. He bent to gather the fruits of his labors, when a wave of nausea struck him. Remembering what had happened before, he gripped that frustration tight, then let it go. The world spun for a moment, when it stopped, he found himself flat on his ass.


    Shaking his head, as though that would help, he stood and gathered the goods. He made his way over to his brother who was preoccupied coaxing a fire to life. Dorian let go of his burden and promptly plopped down next to his brother.


    Kurt gave him an annoyed look. ¡°Done already?¡±


    Dorian, feeling a bit short, curtly replied with a ¡°yep.¡±


    Kurt gave him a disbelieving look. Dorian gestured with his thumb, ¡°Go look for yourself, oh and here.¡± Dorian handed the hatchet over to his brother. Kurt took it, then cursed. Confused, Dorian made a ¡°Hmmm?¡± sound.


    ¡°What did you do, Dor? This was mom''s favorite hatchet.¡± Kurt fingered the edge of the hatchet, flicking his thumbnail against a crack Dorian hadn''t noticed. ¡°I don''t know, Kurt.¡± He looked down, partly out of shame, partly because his head swam less when he wasn''t looking up.


    Kurt, looking down at his brother, saw the pale complexion of his skin. Concerned, Kurt put a hand on Dorian''s shoulder. ¡°It''s alright. Here, I''ve got some jerky in my pack. Eat it, and I''ll get our new walking sticks ready to go.¡±


    Kurt rummaged for a bit, proffering the dried foods to Dorian. Dorian ate, feeling slightly better but still not wholly himself. It wasn''t just how he had broken the hatchet, or the strange sensation he had when he tugged on that sense. There was something about being out in the wilds, this far away. There was a difference, Dorian felt, though he couldn''t put it into words.


    Dorian watched Kurt fashion the staves over the small fire. Curious, Dorian asked, ¡°How''d you get the fire started so quickly?¡±


    Kurt chuckled. ¡°I never mentioned that I''ve seen Gwam before, did I? The trappers are given use of sawdust it makes. It very useful as a fire starter, and¡± Kurt patted a pouch at his hip, ¡°If we run into anything with longer teeth than ourselves, I can toss this. Its got some saw dust mixed with shavings of flint. If I throw it hard enough, it should ignite. Nothing that will kill, but enough to scare most critters off. Useful stuff.¡± Kurt finished lining up the points to burn the line sticks, took the top of the tree and headed to a nearby boulder to presumably plant the sticks.


    Dorian got up and joined him, assuming that the faster they were done, the faster they could get back to moving. After catching up with his brother, Dorian assisted in stripping the individual branches, taking his brother''s advice on the process. While they worked at this, Dorian asked, ¡°You know, sometimes I hear you talking to yourself. I keep wondering if you''re going nuts or if you just can''t control the volume of your voice.¡±Kurt gave Dorian an odd look. Dorian, not missing a beat, ¡°I see. At the gentle age of thirteen, you must be slipping into early senility. I''m sure the weaver''s husband and you can reminisce about the good old days together. I suppose the upside to a shitty memory is that everything is new and exciting.¡± Dorian cracked a grin, which didn''t seem to penetrate Kurt''s iron exterior.


    ¡°I''m not talking to myself Dorian. I''ve noticed it for a while, for a long while really. You, somehow are as oblivious as you look.¡± Kurt took a stick and lodged it in the ground. Dorian''s eyebrows bowed together. He looked at his older brother, his face was stern, mouth making a tight line, when Dorian heard ¡°If you haven''t noticed yet.¡± Kurt''s lips never moved.


    In shock, Dorian fell back on his rear, eyes splayed as far as they could be. ¡°I noticed the first time you got sick, and I had suspicions before. You always seem to be able to read the moods of a place, of people around you, but with me, you hear me as clear as day.¡± Kurt smiled, mouth still shut. ¡°I figured I''d let you figure it out on your own, but goddamn Dorian, can''t a man have the privacy of his own thoughts?¡±


    A mixture of horror and revelation crashed onto Dorian like a wave. Dorian, not considering beforehand, thought back ¡°Whatever, you won''t be majority for another five years.¡± Kurt looked hurt, and said aloud, ¡°nearly four years, thank you very much.¡±


    Oh. Oh god, no. Dorian thought back to every embarrassing thing he''d thought over the past several years. The horror on Dorian''s face must have been quite funny, because Kurt was laughing so hard, he snorted, which only made him laugh harder. ¡°But wait, like always? What about everyone else?¡±


    Kurt straightened himself, as best he could, and replied, ¡°Seems to only torment your big brother. Though, I''ve worried whether Dad picks up on it sometimes. For me it''s clear, I''m guessing for everybody else, it''s like when it first started happening. Like the thoughts were my own, just muddled. Though, I must say, that weaver girl, she seems to pick up clearly. You really have to learn how to watch yourself.¡±


    Stumped, stupefied, and horrified, Dorian couldn''t think of anything to do but just sit there. He cleared his mind, as best he could. He listened to the settling breeze, the leaves rustling, and the birds chirping in the distance. He searched himself, his emotions, for something pervasive. What did he feel, all the time? What could be ever present that he wouldn''t even notice?Paranoia. As he mentally groped the emotion, he realized how subtle it was, how it ingrained itself into his very being. It was engraved into his very soul, he thought, so much so that he grew with the hindrance, never even noticing. He gripped the paranoia, hard, and he felt everything, heard everything, all around him. The small animals looking for food, how hungry they were, their fear of predators, then he felt the predators, then he mentally felt his brother, all smugly self assured. The bastard. He gripped it hard, then let it go. The quiet that seemed to envelop him was so jarring that he felt sick. Unlike what he did with the gwam, however, he didn''t want to puke. He had the sudden desire to eat raw vegetables, leeks specifically. Or seaweed. How odd?


    Kurt seemed to notice. He looked at Dorian for a moment, then gave a joyous whoop. ¡°Ha! That''s great! By the gods, Dorian, I hadn''t even realized that was there. I feel uplifted...¡± his slit his eyes in a glare. ¡°Don''t you go invading my thoughts without telling me, I know what to look for now.¡± He pointed, then muttered, ¡°That''s why she called you creeping tubs! Haha! You were creeping and you didn''t even know it! You''re the most natural creep-¡± Dorian put a hand up to stop his brother''s tirade.


    Looking quite serious, Dorian said, ¡°Kurt. I don''t know what¡¯s happening to me, but I do know that I can''t do this alone. You leaving me high and dry isn''t a game. I''ve seen the look in the priest''s eyes, their unsettling. I don''t want to be that.¡±


    Looking guilty, Kurt sighed and went back to work on the line trees. Dorian, still serious, said, ¡°I know you didn''t mean to, but Kurt,¡± Dorian took a deep breath. ¡°I''m really scared sometimes; things are happening to me, and I don''t know what to make of them.¡±


    Kurt looked down at his brother, sincerity on his face. He sat in front of Dorian, crossed his legs and said, ¡°Well Dorian, it''s about time we talk about this.¡± A smile crept on his face, ¡°When a mommy and a daddy really love each other, like a whole lot, they...¡±


    Dorian, with an odd mixture of fury and humor, shouted ¡°This isn''t a fucking joke you dolt! I''m not normal!¡± He gave a guttural growl of frustration and pounded his fist to the ground. When he did so, he felt something through the earth, a kind of harmony. The notes of that harmony ran through the grass he sat on towards the Line trees they had just planted. On a whim, he matched the notes of that harmony and sped up the tempo. This all happened in the moment between breaths, he exhaled.


    Lines waved out through the earth, a blackness that enveloped the ground in front of him, then, in the gaps between the lines, a light. The crescendo of the moment seemed to come, and Dorian did nothing to fight it.


    The trees that were just planted lurched upward. Roots spreading, they burst toward the sun, pulling on something inside Dorian in the process. Dorian felt suddenly, overwhelmingly, depressed. The only thing that felt good was the sun making its way through the top of the trees. Not able to pay attention to anything else, Dorian threw his shirt off and let the sunlight beat upon his bared chest. Smiling in relief, he laid back and dozed off in the warm sunlight, it seemed to bake away his woes. He drifted into that warm embrace, the sound of his brother''s shouting came from a place far, far away.

 Chapter 6 - Brothers

    In my haste of success, I have released something I was unaware of. That nameless man must be laughing from beyond the grave, as I was unaware of the diversity of his creation.


    The Garru are slightly sentient, which wouldn''t be an issue if they hadn''t been adapted to manipulate Kraken. Adversely, they can actively consume Gia as well, though they must be paired before they can. I wouldn''t have seen this, wouldn''t have even understood it''s possibility if not for the last child prepared for his ¡°ascent.¡± After losing three acolytes, I had to personally track the child down. Though he never truly stood a chance against my power, he put up a surprising fight.


    The Garru had given the vessel an aptitude in Kraken manipulation, and I doubt I would have found success if I had been a millennia younger, but viciousness is a tool most effective against the naive. I had to gut what was once his Garru before I was able to subdue him. His primary was of strength, but once he was starved of iron and his Garru disposed of, he was little more than what he had been intended to be: cattle.


    Numbly, he was aware of something happening. A sensation of movement, being dragged? Finally, the warm sunbathed his upper torso fully. The warmth penetrated his skin, filling him with a sense of completion.


    A wet surprise came to him, falling over his face and body. Opening his eye, he lurched forward. Kurt was there corking a stone canteen, smiling grimly.


    ¡°Creepy shit, brotund.¡± Kurt moved with the steady grace of any man on a mission, knowing how to get the job done, and the process by which each step took place. It was down right irritating.


    ¡°Nice trick though, I''ll have a full harvest of line trees to take back. Might be something to exploit there...¡± The sunlight made Kurt''s outline seem holy, the bastard. Kurt''s brows knit together, ¡°I heard that little big brother.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Dorian murmured, bleary eyed in the noon day sun. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Kurt, gesturing to the open meadow they were in, then pointed over to where they had been, next to the large boulder that was now almost surrounded by line trees. ¡°You did some Priorius nonsense on those trees, made me a whole bunch of Vega, then thought it''d be a good time for a nap. You got pale, paler than I''d ever seen you, then you went green. Like actually green, I could have hid you in the trees if it were summer. Instead, I took you out to the meadow, assuming you were becoming a new type of tree. A Dorian tree, squat, hardy, and implacably dumb.¡±


    Dorian smiled, snorted, and stood. Finding his shirt nearby, he put it on. ¡°When are you going to take this seriously?¡±


    Kurt, still holding an expression that was mocking, replied while gathering his pack. ¡°Dorian, one thing I figured a long time back was that you weren''t normal. The Gods only know what you can do, them and the priests, but firstly, you''re my extraordinarily dim-witted brother. I know I can''t know what you''re going through, but I know I should just expect to be surprised. If I freak out as much as you do, it would be as chaotic as the blind leading the drunk. I don''t want you to get scared, but if I join you in that, it won¡¯t help a thing. Besides, the priests don''t tell us anything about what you guys can do, just that you can do things that defy explanation. It¡¯s a good chance to learn, I guess, but also, so long as you don''t push your luck in town or around anyone else,¡± Kurt shrugged, ¡°It doesn''t really matter.¡±


    Not sure how to proceed, Dorian put his shirt on, reattached his trail pants, and retrieved his new walking stick. ¡°Oh, wait one second.¡± Kurt put a hand out, gesturing to the line pole. Dorian handed it over. Kurt said, ¡°You''ve got about ten seconds after I do this, so be swift. Grab the stave where you''ll typically grip it and hold it tight.¡± Kurt took out his flask and emptied it on the middle area of the stave. Dorian grabbed it, and his hand molded itself onto the stave, after the allotted time he removed his hand to find a perfect indentation left behind.


    ¡°Neat,¡± said Dorian, smirking slightly. Kurt replied, ¡°Try not to get it wet if you can, I''ll burn some engravings into it to keep it from getting ruined if it rains. Thanks to your fresh outburst of evil magics and your inability to keep yourself from napping, we''re going to have to make a straight line for the pond if we''re gonna make it back before our parents get peeved. You ready?¡±


    Dorian gave a swift nod, no longer dizzy, and gestured with his palm outstretched. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    Making their way through the brush wasn''t so bad, Dorian mused. The new pant covers kept anything with thorns from causing any problems, and the coolness of the day kept him from sweating openly.


    Kurt, making his way easily and clearing brush as they went, asked in a way that came across disinterested, ¡°So what all can you do. I don''t think you''re completely sure yet, but you must have some ideas.¡± He used his line pole to hold back some brush, letting Dorian underneath.


    Thinking for a moment, Dorian started to list what he understood. ¡°Well, every time I do something, I get light headed. Following that, I get some weird cravings, like just now it felt like I could taste sunlight baking my skin.¡± Kurt caught up, making a ¡°hmm¡± noise as he did so. He rolled his hand, letting Dorian continue.


    ¡°There is the whole Gwam thing I did, used it again to cut through the line trees, but it makes me want to puke every time.¡± Kurt nodded, then replied, ¡°I figured you couldn''t cut through that tree so easily. That''s cheating, you know.¡±


    Dorian frowned, exasperated. ¡°Cheating? Like it''s cheating when I have to take two steps for every one step you take?¡±


    Kurt looked back, giving a mock glare, ¡°Oh yeah, that''s totally the same thing. As if being able to walk faster is on level grounds compares to carrying a stick of Gwam that weighs more than you do and tossing it about like it weighs next to nothing. I''d trade you if you let me.¡± He smiled then, one eyebrow raised.


    ¡°Nah, I''ll keep the cards I''m dealt, thank you.¡± Dorian continued, ¡°But whenever I do that, well it''s kind of weird...¡± Dorian tapered embarrassed. Kurt, being the person he was, replied with utter nonchalance, ¡°I don''t care Dorian, whatever it is I''m sure it¡¯s just a part of what you are. You can''t change that, you were born the way you were. Let me take a wild guess, you can''t help but think about other boys in a way that makes you all kinds of bubbly inside.¡± Dorian, face covered in disgust, said ¡°You know, mom used to say that we all have a tendency to extend our own insecurities onto others.¡±


    Kurt laughed, ¡°Clever,¡± then took on a childish tone, ¡°I know you are but what am I. You really are ten years old, aren''t you?¡± Dorian glared at his brother. ¡°I don''t care what you fancy, little brother. One of the other trappers is like that, he''s about my age. I let him down softly enough,¡± Kurt put a fist over his mouth like he was going to cough, but really, he was covering a smile, ¡°I know you think about that brown eyed girl quite often. It was one of the reasons I didn''t mention the open thinking thing you do, you were fueling me with plenty of shit to throw at you later.¡± Kurt smirked.


    Dorian flushed, ¡°Hang on now, don''t you go changing the subject. You let him down softly? Pa-lease. You''re so full of yourself you probably didn''t even turn him away outright.¡± Kurt snorted, ¡°Baby brother, if only you knew the burden of being the most attractive young man in the valley. If I were to offer my private time to anyone that asked, I''d never have a moment with my own thoughts. Then again, the same is also true if I spend all my spare time with you.¡± Kurt chuckled.


    ¡°Oh whatever, if I knew I would have stopped, I think.¡± Dorian felt pensive for a moment. Kurt chimed in then, ¡°No, I was flattered by his curiosity in me, but that kind of thing doesn''t really bother me or anything, I just very much enjoy the presence of a fine feminine figure. I suspect it''s the lack of hair.¡± Kurt sometimes said things like that, honest but offhanded. Honesty, Dorian figured, was a good quality to have. ¡°You shouldn''t be so disgusted Dorian.¡± Dorian felt suddenly abashed. ¡°Judgment isn''t really the window I want to see the world through. Love is love, my dim-wit little minion, they''re just people that like bananas over melons.¡±


    He left the feeling of shame behind, replacing it with shock. ¡°That''s sick,¡± Dorian said, sounding every bit the off balance ten-year-old.


    Kurt shrugged, ¡°To each her own, or his own, or whatever. If I were to have hate for someone for being different, I''d have likely turned you in to the Priorius a long time back. You know they offer a thousand Vega for finding one?¡±


    Dorian was unaware of this, for a moment or two he felt a chaos of emotions. Not sure how to feel, he circled back to the original topic. ¡°Anyhow, there is that whole hearing what people think thing. Thinking back, I used to pick up on how people felt too, though it was more muddled.¡±


    Kurt laughed, ¡°But you spoke to the weaver girl, that can''t be a coincidence. You think about it often enough that I, uh,¡± Kurt stammered. ¡°Well knowing you''re as scared as a wild chicken when it comes to the finer sex, I took the liberty of inquiring about her name.¡± Dorian raised an eyebrow. ¡°It''s pronounced ¡°Kwena¡± but spelled with a Q. Quena.¡± Kurt steeled himself for a moment, feeling a bit guilty before saying, ¡°I got tired of hearing you think about her as the brown eyed weaver girl. She''s a person, not a description, that''s how you should see all people, Dorian.¡±


    Dorian, now feeling so awful and embarrassed, wanted to bury himself in the dirt right there and die. Adapting an air of absolution, he nodded and said, ¡°You''re right.¡±


    Kurt nodded, letting the serious moment pass, then said, ¡°So, anything else? That priest made a new forge right in front of the town, oh yeah, and he can fly. Felt any unearthly desires to defy gravity?¡±Dorian, realized that his brother was opening a way past the moment of severity, patted on is stomach. ¡°Nope, must be the breads, gravity has a very strong grasp on me.¡± He grinned. ¡°But some of the stuff he did do scared me a bit. The whole swirling mass of blackness that turned in to a building was terrifying and jarring. I felt something when he did that, like my spine caught fire, it took a lot for me not to wince or stiffen when it happened.¡±


    ¡°Oh, what were you gonna say that you were so embarrassed about anyhow?¡± They had kept a steady pace throughout the conversation, and Dorian was gradually breathing heavier while his brother didn''t seem to have any problem with the grueling pace he set.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Dorian took a deep breath. He stopped, looking his brother in the eye. ¡°Promise you wont be creeped out?¡±


    Kurt sighed, ¡°Dorian, if I were to be creeped out by everything you do that''s creepy, I would spend every second of my life basking in the filth of your pudgy oddness.¡± He gave Dorian a frank look, ¡°No I won¡¯t be creeped out, and I won¡¯t judge you either. So, what is it?¡±


    Dorian, sighing in defeat said, ¡°Afterwards, It''s like I''m a predator. I can smell blood a mile off, and it makes me hungry.¡± Dorian looked at the ground. He knew it was gross, an abominable thing really. He wondered if whether that made him less than human. He looked up.


    Kurt''s face was awash in horror, Dorian looked away. Feeling ashamed of himself, he started to walk forward, when Kurt burst out laughing. ¡°It''s likely something from what you do.¡± He laughed again, ¡°So what. You''re a predator, big deal. We all are. Let me guess, dark meats help it?¡±


    Dorian thought, taste buds salivating, he nodded. ¡°Kind of, but not completely unless I eat a whole bunch of it.¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Do you know something I don''t?¡±


    Kurt, starting their walk back up said, ¡°No but I''ve got a hunch. Sunlight helped you after you helped us grow a bunch of line trees, dark meat with heavy lifting, and I''m guessing some other strange thing with the mind trick.¡± Kurt made a thoughtful sound. ¡°Well, the caretaker that took you the same day of the announcements, she was worried about your bleeding. I told her I''d be back if you hadn''t woken, and she said something about how if you hadn''t stopped bleeding, there was a supplement she was supposed to force down your gullet. I''m guessing every time you do something, there''s a cost. Maybe that supplement has got some of the stuff you need.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I remember her. She seemed pissy with me, like I was intruding on her.¡± Kurt just chuckled.


    ¡°Well yeah, she was giving me the eye like I was a fresh elk steak, and she hadn''t eaten in a month. Maybe I can use some of my irresistible charm to get a little of the stuff. She said something about using it meant she had to report it. I don''t know, but I think I could distract her long enough to sneak away with some.¡± Kurt looked pensive for a moment, then seemed to exude resolve.


    ¡°Oh whatever, Kurt. Here''s some advice, you might not be judgmental but by the gods, you are full of yourself.¡± Dorian stumbled forward, but Kurt was there to straighten him.


    ¡°I''m not really all that full of myself. She was quite interested, but I suspect it was more than just my charm and good looks. We''ve got a house name, Dorian, don''t think people won¡¯t try to take advantage of that. Besides, why do you think she was pissy? I told her I''d be back alone, our parents were too busy with the announcements that night.¡± Kurt tilted his head but kept his chin tucked. He wiggled his eyebrows, and smirked.


    Oh, oh my. Turns out I''m the bastard. ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re my little big bastard brother, that I love enough to spend time with over some girl. Besides, I think she really wasn''t all that interested in my shoulders, just the name they bore.¡± Kurt looked a little hurt but took it in stride. ¡°I think we''re almost there, the pond should be just past these trees, over the hill.¡±


    Dorian sighed, ¡°Finally. Any more of you whining about all the attention you get, and I''ll find a cave bear and ask him to politely put me out of my misery.¡±


    Kurt, not one to miss an opportunity to jab at his brother said, ¡°As if a cave bear could finish that meal alone. It would take three of ''em at least.¡± Dorian, not amused, just kept his pace until they came to the top of a rise.


    Looking out from a high point, the pond his brother spoke about was something out of a dream. The water, clear blue green, had a slight glow to it. He could indeed see all the way to the bottom, but despite this, there didn''t seem to be any vegetation growing within the water itself. The outer rim of the pond was bursting with life, moss gathered so high that when they approached the pool, Dorian had to rip it away to get through.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see. Got those swimming shorts?¡± Kurt asked, looking through his pack for his own.


    ¡°I do, I''m wearing them.¡± Dorian said, confused as to why his brother hadn''t done the same.


    ¡°I suppose there''s little difference between your britches and your swim trunks, eh?¡± Kurt had his thinking face on.


    ¡°Don''t hurt yourself, Kurt. Thinking isn''t a game for everyone, and I don''t think I can drag your giant ass all the way back to town by myself.¡± While Dorian spoke, he began undressing, and getting his change of undergarments out to set next to his pack.


    Kurt said, ¡°Well, thinking might not be my specialty, but I''m one hell of a swimmer. Judging by the look of you, you should float plenty fine.¡±


    Kurt smiled a wicked smile, one that spoke of malicious intentions. Dorian shot a look at him that said ¡°Don''t¡±, but it was already gripped deeply in his brother''s mind. Dorian made to get to the water before his brother could grab him, but his long gate and early pubescent speed outmatched Dorian no matter what he did. Before Dorian could get into the water, he was air born. He did what he could to avoid a belly flop, but managed to hit his side hard enough that it didn''t matter. The water washed over him, shockingly cool.


    In a rush of bubbles, an arm grabbed him and hauled him up. He gasped, fearing he would drown, until he opened his eyes to see his brother. The bastard acted like he''d done nothing.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Not bad right!¡± He laughed, and the sound echoed around them. Holding Kurt''s arm to keep himself afloat, he looked about from the perspective of being in the pool. At the opposite side of the pool was a mound that seemed to loom. The trees were thick around the pool, making it feel like they were all alone in the world. It was nice.


    Dorian laughed just to hear the sound echo, then grinned boyishly at his brother. His brother, ever the instructor, immediately launched into teaching Dorian how to swim. It was really easy, but some of his brother''s instructions didn''t seem to add up.


    ¡°Wait, how do you swim quickly?¡± Dorian asked. Kurt looked peeved, like being questioned was against the rules. Preposterous.


    ¡°I, well I just move faster?¡± Kurt replied, unsure what to say.


    ¡°You swim like a frog, why not like this.¡± Dorian was a little prideful that he picked it up so easily. It was kind of odd, he just swam like he''d been swimming his whole life, like he''d done this so many times that it only made sense. He swam, one arm over another, kicking his feet as he went.


    ¡°If I swim like a frog, you swim like a drowning ten-year-old.¡± Dorian stopped swimming, leveling himself to tread water. He smiled at his brother. The smile only went so far, because his brother, using the angle of the edge of the pool to jump from, dived after his little brother. Dorian took off, moving fluidly through the water. In his mind, he envisioned himself being part of the water, just another drop moving with the grace Dorian himself lacked on land. He swam hard, towards the other end, looking back he saw that he had left his brother in the metaphorical dust.


    ¡°How''s the view back there? Must be pretty lonely.¡± Dorian said, chiding his older brother. He would never understand what it was about younger siblings blowing shit at older siblings, but it always seemed to light a fire under his older brother''s ass. Kurt redoubled his efforts and chased after Dorian with the haste of an autumnal windstorm. Before Dorian knew it, he had completely crossed the pond. The edge by the precipice was relatively steep, but if Dorian leaned against the rock at the edge of the pool he could stand. When his brother caught up, he looked exhausted.


    ¡°Alright, it''s official. Mom cheated on dad with a fish.¡± Kurt smiled warmly at his little brother, Dorian could sense a touch of pride through his ability. He gripped it and shut it off again, having not realized he started receiving again in all the chaos of swimming for his young life.


    Kurt looked up, then climbed up to the edge of the pool, then jumped in, looking oddly curious. When he surfaced, he said, ¡°Oh yeah. We can totally do it, its steep enough.¡±


    ¡°Do what?¡± Dorian asked, a sense of dread filling his guts.


    ¡°Wanna jump off the top?¡± Kurt asked, pointing to the rise. He smirked at Dorian, a sense of wildness to him. It was contagious.


    Dorian nodded, ¡°age before beauty.¡± Dorian gestured for Kurt to lead the way. They slogged their way out of the water, holding their shorts up as they went. Kurt, muttering something about age and beauty, deftly found a way up the side of the mound. They made the way up in short order, though the ground itself was all rock and loose gravel. There wasn''t any dirt there, just dark stone. The hard surface wasn''t a challenge to climb. Short of stumbling a few times, they made their way up with relative ease.


    Upon reaching the top, Dorian looked around at the view. The pond itself wouldn''t really be noticeable unless you had a bird¡¯s eye view. ¡°How''d you find this place, anyhow?¡± asked Dorian while they both caught their breath. Continuing his inspection of the gorgeous view, Dorian saw that he could see the valley edge from where they stood, a sheer slate wall of blackness, like a menacing symbol of their own limitations. Outside of the wall, the wilds seem to just run on, as far as his vision could take him.


    ¡°It was when Mom had the scouts all running around, working on maps. They still aren''t complete, but we had to get the edges mapped in.¡± Kurt was caught up in the view himself, then pointed to another tall mound that happened to have a sizable tree at the top. ¡°I climbed that and helped with the map from there. I spotted the pond but decided to keep my mouth shut. There are enough wilds out here for everybody, really, but I wanted a little something for ourselves, ya know?¡±


    Dorian nodded, admiring his brother''s guile, then said ¡°Thanks Kurt. This was awesome.¡±


    Kurt smiled, feeling abashed yet prideful. He gestured to the edge, ¡°Impotent before the divine?¡±


    Uh-uh. ¡°Nooope. This was your idea after all.¡± Dorian, despite the appreciation he felt towards his brother, became suddenly unsure.


    ¡°Afraid of heights?¡± Kurt asked.


    ¡°No, but I do respect them. I''m a whole lot of bubbly boy to be falling from the sky.¡± Kid, if you only knew. ¡°You first, I''ll join afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Oh no, not gonna happen. With my luck, you''ll land right on me, and like you said, you''re a whole lot of blubbery boy to fall from the sky.¡± Kurt snickered.


    ¡°Hey, I said bubbly, like in the bath tub, not blubbery like I''m a living tub of lard.¡± Dorian glared daggers at his brother.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Kurt said, hiding a grin, ¡°I must have misheard you. I must be hard of hearing at my old age you see.¡± The bastard was doing all he could not to laugh, Dorian could tell. Dorian just stared at him, hoping he could put ice in the gaze.


    ¡°Okay, okay, okay. Together then?¡± Kurt asked, changing the subject.


    ¡°We''ll belly flop the worst belly flop in history, or you, with all your gangly limbs, will intertwine us and we''ll fall flat onto the rocks.¡± Dorian knitted his eyebrows after saying this, then considered. If one fell on the other, it would be bad news that would never make its way back to Metan.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Dorian said, steeling himself. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡±


    Kurt grinned looking roguish. ¡°Keep pace as best as you can, I won¡¯t leave ya behind.¡± Kurt looked over at Dorian and extended a hand. Dorian looked at it, when he heard Kurt say, ¡°I promise.¡± All insecurity left Dorian in that moment, like breaking the surface of the water after a long dive. He took his brother¡¯s hand, fully prepared to do something completely stupid.


    ¡°Here we go!¡± Kurt took off, taking long powerful strides. Dorian hadn''t taken two steps before he felt his brother pulling Dorian forward. Feeling rushed, Dorian dug deep and drove hard to catch up. To his own surprise, he did. They approached the edge, lightning running through both, and they leaped with all the might they possessed. Time slowed as they lifted to the air.


    Wind ripping through their ears, they simply lived in the moment. Dorian heard a howl of glee out of his brother¡¯s throat, and despite himself, a whoop from his own. The clear water seemed to be coming on, faster and faster. Dorian didn''t know when he lost his brother¡¯s grip, but in the exhilaration of the moment, neither of them cared. Dorian brought his legs together at the last second, and the world was replaced.


    Water shot up Dorian''s nostrils, so he exhaled hard through them to get them cleared. The sound of the underwater world wasn''t deaf, but it wasn''t raucous like land was. He opened his eyes to see his brother slowing to a stop just before his feet hit the bottom. His brother laughed, though it was garbled through the water, Dorian knew the utter joy of that laughter. Kurt coiled himself on the bottom, and had his attention grasped by something. Dorian tried to follow his eye but was beginning to run out of air. Dorian kicked off the bottom and made his way to the surface.


    Lungs about to burst, he took a sharp breath, then gave a cathartic ¡°Whoo!¡± at the top of his lungs. It was dumb, but in that moment he could care less. Kurt joined shortly thereafter, and they took a moment to be loud, boisterous, young men, excited to be alive. After several exclamations of ¡°I can''t believe,¡± and ¡°By the gods,¡± they calmed themselves enough to just tread water and let their hearts settle.


    Kurt asked, still panting, ¡°Did you see the light down there?¡±


    ¡°No, I was wondering what you were looking at.¡± Dorian couldn''t quite get his heart out of his throat.


    ¡°It looked like oil in water, it was leaking out of the bottom, then dissolving. I wonder what it is.¡± Kurt said, looking thoughtful.


    ¡°I don''t know, but I want to dry off.¡± Dorian said, not really interested.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Dorian, where''s your sense of adventure?¡± Kurt asked, disappointed.


    ¡°It''s next to the hot meal Dad is gonna cook for me tonight, or likely in one of the books I''m going to steal from your room. My favorite one is titled, ¡°Journal.¡±¡± Dorian smirked at his brother.


    ¡°Hey now, Mom says to keep a log of our daily lives, and I think it¡¯s good to be able to put your thoughts down on paper.¡± Kurt paused a moment. ¡°Wait, don''t read my journal!¡± He splashed water at Dorian. Dorian laughed.


    Kurt, looking resolved on the matter, said, ¡°I''m gonna check it out, it''ll just take a second. Then we can make our way back home. Promise.¡± Not checking with Dorian, he took a deep breath and dived down. Treading water, the quiet was unnerving. Time slowed again, this time his hair seemed to perk up on the back of his neck. The subtle sloshing of water under his hands was a muffled barrier to the deafness of the world around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement.


    Looking up at the rise, silhouetted by the sunlight cascading down, was a four-legged animal. Letting his eyes adjust, his heart started beating hard. A lump rose in his throat, and he would have shouted in alarm if he wasn''t so completely terrified. He had heard stories, but never understood. It was a mountain lion.


    He heard a growl, then a roar. Not thinking, Dorian took a deep breath and dived after his brother. He swam downward, the adrenaline kicking in hard. Not thinking he made his way over to his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder. His brother turned to him, fear on his face. Kurt gestured to a loose stone, that did have some kind of green aura coming off it. Dorian shook his head, pointing upwards. Kurt shook his head back at Dorian and went back to tugging at the stone.


    Frustrated, Dorian shoved his brother over. He gripped at that anger, holding it tight for a moment, and ripped the rock free as easily as any other child would pick a dandelion. A green light coagulated and leaked out spreading across the bottom of the pond. It wasn''t fast but it was steady. They swam to the surface.


    ¡°Haha! I knew there was something behind there.¡± Kurt said pompously. ¡°Shh! Kurt, quiet.¡± Dorian, gripped by fear, whispered with all the weight of his own pomposity. ¡°I think, no, I know I saw a mountain lion.¡± Kurt shot him a glance, first alarmed, then mocking.


    He started with a baby voice, ¡°Aww, poor little Dorian all alone thinks he saw a terrifying man slaying apex predator. Come on Dor, I won¡¯t fall for it.¡± Dorian, in utter disbelief at his brother, widened his eyes to express the severity of the situation.


    ¡°I''m serious Kurt, on our parents, on the gods, I''m not joking.¡± Dorian was having a hard time breathing at this point, he was about to start seriously panicking.


    Kurt, realization dawning on him like a sunrise, took on a tone of immediate control. ¡°Don''t thrash about, we need to get to my clothes, and our staves. We need to make our way quietly there, no sudden movement. We go under, and cover distance, and surface quietly. Understand?¡± Dorian just nodded.


    Dorian looked about before diving under. When he did so, so distracted by the terror and fear, he hadn''t noticed the pool around them becoming brighter. Looking now, it was fully iridescent. As quiet as Dorian could, he asked ¡°What the fuck did we do?¡±


    Kurt looked down. Looked up, eyes wide. The swirling mass was all around them now. ¡°Kurt, what do we do?¡± There was alarm in Dorian''s voice, though it wasn''t intended. Kurt, eyes tearing up, said ¡°I- I don''t know.¡± His lower lip was quivering, and Dorian could see that his brother was just as scared and petrified now as he was. A growl sounded in the distance. Dorian''s chest was fluttering, his lungs constricting. They were going to die here, and it was his fault.


    Then, the vines came. Dorian thought of them as vines, but they weren''t vegetation. The goop was congealed together in a mass, small tentacles protruded outward, searching. One touched Kurt, and he stopped moving, frozen in fear. The tentacle moved past Kurt, disinterested. Then another slid along Dorian, then another, and another. They retracted, and as Dorian watched, horrified, the mass contracted. It looked like the poise of a snake about to strike. Dorian looked up, and having abandoned the pretense of quiet, shouted at his brother, ¡°Go!¡±


    They swam, by the gods, they swam with hell on their heels. For whatever reason, whether it was fear hampering his own movement, or that the fear had increased his brother''s speed, either way didn''t matter. Dorian was falling behind, Kurt looked back as he was close enough to shore that his feet could touch. His eyes went wide, and Dorian couldn''t help himself. He looked back, and what he saw doubled down on his fear in a way that locked him up.


    The mass of glowing light, congealed as it was, rose from the water, taller than the mound they jumped from. It was swirling, dancing, shimmering in a beautiful terror that words fail to express. Something primal stirred in Dorian, a knowledge or understanding that he was... completely fucked.


    From the mass, a vine shot out, wrapping around Dorian''s arm. He heard Kurt cursing, then wading towards him in the water. Kurt grabbed Dorian''s other arm. He pulled but wasn''t any match for whatever this thing was. ¡°No, no, no, no! Fuck you! You can''t have him!¡± Another vine lashed out, taking Dorian''s leg. Kurt wasn''t even cursing anymore, just shouting an unintelligible garbling of angry primitive noises. Another vine grasped Dorian. He gripped his brother harder and couldn''t hide the fear that must have been written on his face. Kurt doubled up on his effort, straining himself. Kurt shouting, over and over.


    Dorian, body pulled part way out of the water, calmed. He looked at his older brother. ¡°It''s okay brother, you''ve given me better than I had any right to. I think it''s time to go.¡± Dorian heard the words leaving him, like he reached right down to the core of his soul and plucked those simple words out of all the loose concepts and confusing nonsense. He laid it there for his brother, then smiled. Dorian, torso now wrapped tight, fully in the clutches of this thing, ripped his arm free of his brother''s grasp, and let the mass take him.


    The shock on Kurt''s face hurt Dorian in a way that he had never experienced. Betrayal? Betrayer? Maybe. He couldn''t know, but he knew he wouldn''t have to worry about it for long. He distantly heard Kurt wailing, splashing and thrashing, his screaming and gasping. It wouldn''t help, Dorian knew, but the notion was endearing all the same. Mentally, Dorian tuned in to his brother. Words can''t express hearing grief, disbelief, shock, hatred, shame, pain, fear, self-disappointment, and a torrent of other emotions wrapped into one, but it was there, and Dorian felt guilty that he wouldn''t be there for his brother as those emotions evolved into grief. No matter.


    The mass consumed Dorian. Having plucked him out of the water, it enveloped his entire body. The light was so bright that it blinded him to everything else. He tried to scream, but nothing came of it. Out of air, he thrashed. Lungs burning, with all his will, he tried to resist the natural impulse to breathe. He tried and failed. To his surprise, his lungs didn''t fill with water, or goop, or whatever. In the second that he tried to breathe through the thing that would have his life, the mass stole the moment to invade Dorian''s body.


    An onslaught began, the victims being Dorian''s mind, body and soul. He felt that he was being flayed alive, a torrent of pressure penetrating every orifice of his body. When that wasn''t enough, it broke through the skin, invading like one army of ants invading another. There wasn''t pain, only shock. Then everything that used to matter just faded away.


    He was somebody else. He was something else. He was a bear, a lion, a tanner, a weaver. He was she, she had a wife, she had a husband, he had a wife and a husband, and children, he was dying, he was living, he was old, then young, he was flying and gliding and being boiled alive. A thousand thousand experiences happened chronologically, but all at once. Outside of time, he felt the inconceivably old age of the earth, the heartbreak and sorrow of all the death, the wonder and appreciation for all life.


    He felt... he felt... cold. He felt pressure, being choked, drowning, then that pressure came down on his chest. Then again. Then, a stinging across his face. He heard wailing. A name. It wasn''t an odd name, it was a good name.


    It was his name. Dorian. I, Dorian.


    He vomited and choked, eyes wrenched shut, only able to engage in what his body was telling him to do. Only able to breathe. Breathe. Just breathe. Gasping, retching, gasping, breath, breath, breath.


    ¡°Dorian?¡± an inquisitive voice asked.


    He had the oddest abstract thought, that language was what framed all thought, by which limited the human psyche. He also thought that it was strange to have a family, strange to have a brother. A brother.


    His brother, his brother''s name was Kurt. He knew that. Didn''t he? Was that boy still his brother? Yes, he was sure of it. His big brother Kurt, he''s yelling¡­ at me? Was he mad about the sugar and the salt again? That was a good one. Dorian smiled, then felt the pain of being slapped. He opened his eyes.


    ¡°Dorian?!¡± Kurt shouted in his face, shaking Dorian back and forth by the shoulders. ¡°Dorian?! Dorian, Dorian, Dorian! You''re alive!¡± Gripping his brother tight, Dorian choked again.


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± Dorian managed to wheeze between breaths. ¡°Just, just let me get centered.¡± Kurt responded by plopping down in exasperation. He started laughing, then sobbing, violently.


    ¡°Gods damn you, little brother.¡± Kurt said.


    Dorian still couldn''t figure his head from his ass, he just stared off into space, pacing his breath as best he could. He asked, ¡°Got anything to snack on, I want to get sick, but I don''t think there''s much of anything in my gut but water and bile.¡± Kurt just laughed.


    A few minutes passed by, until finally gathered, Kurt made his way to their packs. He dragged most of everything over and left to gather the last of their things. Just out of sight, Dorian took a deep breath, sighed, and began to worry about what happened. He thought he heard something then, no, not heard, he felt something. Hunger, and the excitement that comes from stalking prey. The moment just before the kill, then the feeding. Dorian''s hair, despite being soaked through, stood on end. That''s when he saw it.


    In the darkness cast by the canopy above, glimmered a set of eyes. A deep and throaty growl followed, and he felt his spine seize, the fear taking over. Incapable of moving quickly, Dorian knew he was literally flat on his back and completely exposed. ¡°Kurt?¡± Dorian said, questioning but alarm creeping in. The cat stalked closer, readying itself. He could feel it, it knew that he knew, and there was only one thing to do when the prey had spotted you, act quickly or go hungry. The two-hundred-pound cat charged.


    The mountain lion bounded forward, once, twice, and just before the last bound came, a spear pierced the ground before Dorian. A shout came, all primal and undeniable. The sound of an animal against the wall, ready to die but fighting with everything it had before it would. In defiance, in rage, in love, and in duty, Kurt charged the giant cat.


    Kurt struck out, his spear dancing out like a viper. He struck once, extending, retracted the spear with a deafness Dorian had never seen before, and striking again. Missing, but still following the momentum of the strike, Kurt whirled back to a defensive stance. Having pushed the cat back, Kurtis wedged himself between Dorian and the predator. He snarled at the beast and drew himself up to his full height. Taking a deep breath, Kurt roared at the beast, took another breath, steadied himself and roared again. The lion backed up, swiping at the air, and roared back. It wasn''t going to back down, Dorian knew.


    Coughing, Dorian said, ¡°He sees me as an easy prey, he won¡¯t back down.¡± As Dorian said this, the cat bounded forward, only to feign a strike. Unfortunately, Kurt bit, and when he missed the lion struck out. Kurt spun with the strike, falling as he did. The cat came for Dorian then. Taking his brother''s lead, he snarled. He sat up as best he could, cocking his arm to deliver a backhanded hammer punch on the relentless animal. Something lurched from him, and the cat stalled. It growled again, and readied to pounce.


    An explosion of heat rocked the world around him, so intense it knocked him on his back. He heard another shout, an ¡°Ah-ah-ah.¡± Coinciding with those shouts came the deeply quiet thud of flesh being penetrated. Looking up, Kurt stood over the animal, half of its body charred, still twitching. Every time it twitched, Kurt shouted and struck again, until finally the mountain lion twitched no more.


    When it finally died, Dorian felt it pass. It passed to the earth, to the water, and even a little into himself. The odd sensation was painful but not unpleasant. That''s when Dorian saw the blood dripping from his hand. He followed it. ¡°Kurt?¡±


    Kurtis spun, adrenaline fueled, ready for war. He saw Dorian and gave a start. Looking down at his own hand, Dorian found something there. A blackness, shaped like a teardrop from the side, spread at the front by his fingers, the tip sharp and glinting across the little light that made its way to it.


    ¡°Dorian,¡± Kurt said in a questioning tone, ¡°what the fuck is that?¡±


    ¡°I, I don''t kno-¡± the blackness moved. Dorian felt it writhe under his hand. Scared and unsure, he flung it away from himself. It ripped a line open across his palm as he did. Blood dripped, and Kurt came to investigate. ¡°Dorian, are you okay?¡±


    Dorian nodded, ¡°Yeah.¡± He took a second, still in shock over everything. ¡°Holy shit Kurt. Holy divine shit, Kressor and Gwendos'' burly bat shit, Kurt. That was... awesome!¡± Dorian didn''t know what else to say, he was so astonished by his brother. Kurt came to help him up, ¡°It''s nothing Dor, just some things ya pick up with a trade. Let¡¯s get you up.¡±


    Taking the help, Dorian stood, using his brother for balance. ¡°What was that, Dorian? I didn''t know you had a weapon, you know they''re illegal right? You could get banished for that.¡± Dorian straightened himself and made his way to a nearby tree to lean against.


    ¡°I don''t have a weapon.¡± He paused, ¡°I was afraid, and then it was just there.¡±


    ¡°Well, whatever it was, it saved your life. You''re the luckiest little bastard I''ve ever met.¡± Kurt muttered the last bit, when he started to gawk at something. Following his eye, he saw that Kurt was eyeing the thing that ripped a gash into Dorian''s hand. To their utter horror, the goddamn thing was moving.


    It gathered together, making a lumpy ball. Writhing, spines shot out of it, then it started keening. It was like the sharp noise a baby mammal would make. Then, it started rolling... at Dorian.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Dorian muttered as he tried to run off. It took him an entire step to remember, he had gotten his ass handed to him, and simply didn''t have the reserves to make a respectable escape. Kurt tried to catch the thing, but it just swerved in an unnatural fashion, and... hopped? It landed on Dorian''s leg, spines reaching out, gripping, and rolling its way up him. The noise he made was somewhere between a feminine scream and a childish whine. He hated it.


    The little ball of evil crawled its way up Dorian, to his shoulder, then down his arm. At this point, Dorian was frozen. He couldn''t stop it if he wanted to.


    The black found the gash in his hand, and dived in. Wiggling on its way, it slowly disappeared, taking the gash with it.


    Dorian almost fainted, not because it was ghastly, well, it was ghastly, but because the process hurt. The blackness at the corners of his vision was a kindly reminder that his body had be beaten, thrashed, abused, and ill-nourished. The day had wreaked havoc on his body, and the price of it was just starting to show. Despite how beaten he felt, he knew that nothing would get him out of what was next.


    ¡°Kurt.¡± Dorian said, pointedly. ¡°I would like to go home now.¡±

 Chapter 7 - Family

    I nearly died, or rather I was nearly lost, in the last transfusion. The chosen had been bonded against my knowing, and the Garru menace, despite the benefits they wrought, nearly cost me. If the child had been stronger, or the Garru for that matter, I likely would have failed in the transfusion. In the end, the mass of Kraken I contained overloaded the creature.


    The animal tried to hold it all, but eventually, it burst into a shimmering blotch of gore. The acolytes could likely hear my laughter from the tops of the monastery to the depths of the reservoir.


    Dorian knew, without a doubt, that the trek home was going to be brutal. Despite this, Kurt had insisted he bleed then skin the prize, as it was his ¡°due for slaying such a monstrous animal.¡± So, instead of arguing about it, Dorian did what he could to help the process, which really wasn''t much. After they had tied the back paws and strung the can up, Kurt slit the creature''s throat and started up a fire.


    It was good practice to start a fire when skinning, apparently, for two reasons. First, the fire would drown out the smell of blood in the air, keeping other predators at bay. Secondly, for those that were hungry enough, meat was still meat. Dorian didn''t feel hungry, he felt beat up. He had lost consciousness twice that day, and despite having broken his fast on the cheese and bread some six hours prior, food was the last thing on his mind. That was, until the smell of blood wafted into the air, thick and tangy.


    When Kurt left to gather wood, Dorian simply couldn''t help himself. The flowing blood that spattered to the ground became the call to action that he couldn''t deny. Crawling on his knees, exhausted, he made his way to the draining blood, cupped his hands, and drank deeply. He knew it was disgusting, but at the same time, it was everything he wanted and needed and more. As soon as the disgusting red fluid hit his lips, he started feeling better. Then, oddly, better than better, better than he''d ever felt.


    ¡°Uh...¡± commented a distant voice, ¡°That''s not weird at all.¡±


    Dorian, with the look of a kid caught in the act, turned slowly. Rather than hide his guilt, Dorian just smiled with an expression that said, ¡°nobody said it was against the rules.¡±


    He could feel his brother radiating disgust and revulsion, and for good reason. Dorian must have looked like something out of a nightmare, smiling, teeth covered in blood, the remainder of which was dripping down his chin. Unable to help himself, Dorian belched.


    ¡°Grrrooooosss.¡± Kurt drew out the word, frowning. ¡°What the fuck Dorian?¡±


    ¡°I told you it made me hungry,¡± he replied. He paused a moment, ¡°I do feel much better though.¡± Dorian stood tall, no longer ashamed, and went to the pond to wash up. The pond lost the iridescent glow it had when they arrived, but the water was still clear. He washed up, rinsing the blood out of his mouth.


    When he came back to the fire, there were sticks roasting a few haunches of meat resting above it. Realizing he was still mostly naked; he wandered his way over and got dressed. Kurt called out while skinning the mountain lion, though Dorian couldn''t really make it out. ¡°Huh?¡± Dorian called back, but Kurt didn''t respond. Dorian, now fully dressed and dragging his pack behind him, made his way to his brother.


    Kurt was deftly peeling back the skin of the animal, he would slice, pull hard on the fur, then slice again. Repeating this process sheared the skin from the beast with a swiftness Dorian didn''t expect.


    ¡°Did you bring it?¡± Kurt asked, not taking his eyes off his labor.


    ¡°Bring what?¡± Dorian asked, sensing a tightness in Kurt''s tone.


    ¡°The salt, I asked for it.¡± Kurt sighed, and Dorian got the distinct impression that Kurt was sick of his brother''s company.


    ¡°Sorry, I called out, but you must have not heard me.¡± Dorian searched his pack, finding and offering the mentioned salt. As he handed it off, he asked, ¡°What''s the salt for?¡±


    Dorian knew if his brother was in a bad mood, all he had to do was ask him a question about something Kurt was knowledgeable about, and by the time he was done with his lecture, he''d be settled out. Surprisingly, however, Kurt gave a short response of, ¡°Keeps the rot out, the fact that its half cooked already isn''t really in my favor here. And I like my pack to smell like tanned hides, not rotting flesh.¡±


    Kurt''s eyes went hollow for a moment, and he began salting the inside of the hide. Dorian just kept his quiet for a time, realizing that the day hadn''t just been long for himself, his brother had been carrying the burden of worry for most of the day. ¡°Anything I can do to help?¡± Dorian asked, trying to open a conversation. Kurt just shook his head, swatted lazily at a fly, then continued to salt his new prize.


    ¡°Thanks for everything Kurt, I''m sorry today didn''t go perfectly. It was perfect to me though, despite a few hitches, it was an adventure.¡± Kurt responded with a noise that was somewhere between a ¡°hmm¡± and a grunt. Getting frustrated, Dorian tuned in to the mental link, trying to pick up on what had put his brother in such an abruptly bad place.


    ¡°It just wasn¡¯t right, I¡¯ve never heard of anyone drinking blood. Not like that.¡± The image flashed across his mind, and Dorian surprisingly saw it as Kurt had seen it. Dorian, looking ragged, hair matted, mostly naked, with blood dripping down his face, then, without guilt, smiling. Painting it in that way made Dorian quiver with disgust.


    Recognizing the sensation, Kurt stood up, fury on his face.


    In two large bounds, he was right in front of Dorian''s face. He shouted, ¡°Don''t you ever dare do that to spy on me!¡± He shoved Dorian, but Dorian expected it. Dorian felt something, kind of like a tether. He pulled himself downward, it felt exactly the opposite of what he had done to lift the stick of Gwam. When Kurt shoved Dorian, he may as well have been trying to knock over a tree. Dorian didn''t budge but put his hands up, ¡°Wait, Kurt, I''m sorry. I just didn''t know. I could smell it, and somehow, I knew it would help. I don''t know how, but I just knew.¡±


    Dorian scowled and looked away, letting go of whatever anchored him. ¡°Look, Kurt, I don''t know what happened today, but you were the one who had to get curious. I... I don''t know how to describe what happened, but I owe you, my life. Twice over, and more besides. You''re my only friend, please don''t close me out like this.¡± Pleading wasn''t Dorian''s strong suite, but it was his brother, and his brother had always been forgiving, if not generous.


    Kurt sighed, ¡°It¡¯s one thing to know that blood, of all things, gets your horn stiff, but it¡¯s a whole other thing to catch you in the act. I just...¡± He took a breath and restarted. ¡°I still don''t know how to deal with how strange you make things. It just came at me sideways. Sorry Dor, it¡¯s been a long day.¡±


    Nodding, and letting things go in lieu of dealing with the tasks at hand, helped gathering things and packing away the skin. They then grabbed their meat, doused the fire with some loose earth, and made their way towards home.


    They passed the salt pouch back and forth as they ate and walked, dripping juices everywhere. After a bit, they were back to their usual banter, poking fun at each other, and reminiscing over the events of the day.


    When they each had nearly finished their meal, Kurt threw what was left of his meal into the woods. Dorian gave a low moan.


    ¡°What?¡± Kurt asked.


    ¡°I was gonna ask if you were planning on finishing that.¡± Dorian replied.


    Confused, Kurt repeated, ¡°What?¡± but dragged the word out. ¡°I was finished, there wasn''t much left on the thing.¡±


    ¡°Okay, don''t get freaked out, but I think I¡¯ve got a better feel on a few things. I need to have certain things, you know, to do some of those Priorius things. There''s got to be something in blood, and a little in dark meats. It drives me nuts, but I think it¡¯s what made me strong enough to pick up the Gwam.¡± Dorian said, feeling excited at the revelation. ¡°And I''d bet my birthday dinner the caretakers must report whatever is in that supplement, it''s like fuel to a fire. I caught the priest taking a swig from his flask after he built the new forge, he was all wobbly beforehand, afterwards he looked fine.¡± As he spoke, he picked up in speed and pitch, almost out of breath by the time he finished his sentence.


    Kurt looked pensive for a moment, then snapped his fingers. ¡°Do you ever get that hunger when you''re by the forge?¡±


    Dorian thought but couldn''t recall. He told his brother as much, but Kurt wasn''t dismayed. ¡°Okay, okay, uh...¡± He thought a moment longer, then said, ¡°Keep your eyes open for a reddish rock. They''re all over the place in the valley. I have a hunch.¡±


    Dorian, finishing his meat, said, ¡°Okay, remember when I said don''t freak out?¡±¡°Yeah,¡± Kurt replied.


    ¡°Double that order, with extra bread. Hold the mold.¡± Dorian said, feeling guilty for the urge he was having.


    Curious, Kurt asked, ¡°What in Kressor''s empty sack are you talking about?¡±


    Not looking away, Dorian sniffed the bone leftover from the haunch of meat, pondered it, then bit. It crunched under the pressure of his jaw, but Dorian seemed to make swift work of grinding it down to mush and swallowing.


    Aghast, Kurt just stared at him, mouth open.


    ¡°See, told you it wasn¡¯t finished it.¡± Dorian said, flatly.


    ¡°There is absolutely no way you''re that hungry.¡± Kurt poked Dorian''s gut with the flat end of his line staff.


    After a moment, Dorian had a sense of clarity. Just like letting go of the paranoia that let him hear what his brother was thinking, a weight seemed to lift off Dorian. He felt stupendous.


    Kurt stopped walking and peered at his brother. He tilted his head, then his mouth made an O. Kurt said, ¡°Do that again.¡± The rhythm of his speech was drawn out.


    Dorian looked about, inspecting the leaves caking themselves over the forest floor. When they both stopped, the quiet became eerie, his ears oddly missing the swish of their footsteps.


    He looked at his brother, then bit into the bone again. Chewed, then swallowed. Kurt started to lean down.


    ¡°Quit looming, it''s creepy.¡± Dorian said. Kurt shook his head, then chuckled.


    Still smirking, Kurt said, ¡°Little big brother, you just grew three inches, at the least.¡±


    Mouth making a line, Dorian said, ¡°You''re standing in a ditch or something.¡± Kurt gestured down, he was actually standing at a slightly higher ground than where Dorian was. He frowned.


    ¡°I guess if you want to make bone, ya gotta eat bone. Maybe the same is true to meat, eh?¡±


    Putting on an air of superiority, Dorian asked, ¡°Are you simple? Maybe we should feed you some brains, eh?¡± Dorian said this in the same tone his brother had.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Kurt said, quick witted as ever, he followed it up, ¡°And it looks like we still need to lean out your meals. No fat, no butter, no bread.¡±


    Dorian scowled at his brother, ¡°Why not any bread, if you grow what you eat?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Kurt gestured at the whole of Dorian, ¡°You''re becoming doughy.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Dorian, out of quips, laughed and said, ¡°You''re a dick sometimes.¡±


    Kurt just laughed and laughed.


    That was the general pace of both their conversation and their walk as they headed home. It was just before sunset when they got back, and their mother was waiting for them. The look of fury on her face would make the gods pale. Or flee. Or get pale then flee.


    ¡°Where in Kressor''s black hell have you been?!¡± Their mother demanded, arms crossed. Dorian had never noticed, but her frame was outright fortified, and despite her lack of vertical ascension, she was still intimidating.


    Dorian, having never been at the bad end of her whip like anger, paled. Kurt, having gotten into enough trouble in his misadventures, was used to dealing with the matronly wrath their mother could inflict. He, to Dorian''s relief, spoke for both of them.


    ¡°Went to go show him some wilds, nothing too far, but I got turned about. We found some line trees, and I got distracted, lost my sense of direction. We waited until the sun dropped enough to be sure I knew where we were heading.¡± Kurt, while speaking, took his pack off and took out a few line tree branches, the bottoms had sacks tied to each, and there was water leaking from them as he proffered them to their mother.


    She took them in hand and inspected them. She chortled a sound somewhere between exasperation and acceptance. She gingerly placed them down next to the steps leading to their front door. ¡°The staves.¡± She didn''t have to say any more, Kurt offered his up and so did Dorian. She inspected them, checking the bottom tips and the general shape of the staves. ¡°Undoubtedly line trees. Want to explain something to me, oh fine son of mine?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Kurt said, looking a bit green.


    ¡°Why is there gore on the bottom of this stave?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah, we got hungry. We were stuck there planting these guys for a good while and I went off and got us some lunch.¡± He looked suddenly sure. Dorian wondered if telling a half-truth was as good as lying or close enough to the truth that it didn''t matter. Kurt obviously didn''t mind.


    ¡°What did we have for lunch then?¡± Her eyes were open wide, Dorian thought for just a moment, they mimicked the color of the setting sun.


    ¡°Just a poor old defenseless Garru.¡±


    Looking down at Kurt, she narrowed her eyes. After a pause she said, ¡°you''re lying to me.¡± She spoke this with the stern certainty only a mother has.


    The look of complete innocence Kurt was wearing shattered like a granite slate plate. ¡°How''d you know?¡±


    ¡°In all my years, I''ve never met anyone so desperate. They bleed black, you know? And the way the blood pools will make anyone lose their appetite. Besides, those things don''t hurt anything, its borderline blasphemy to kill something that only perpetuates life.¡± Dorian started to understand where Kurt got the inclination to always add extra information, their mother must be a great instructor.


    She sighed, ¡°suppose I won¡¯t get the truth from you. Go inside, and get cleaned up, the both of you.¡± Dorian lowered his eyes, following Kurt''s lead. They started heading inside, ¡°Kurtis?¡± She called. Kurt stopped, back stiffening. ¡°Do be sure that you don''t bring any untreated skins into this house.¡± He took a breath. ¡°Yes, mom.¡± He took his pack out back, and hung it up, not taking the skin out. Dorian ran inside, and looked out one of the windows, noticing his mother glaring daggers at Kurt the whole way.


    After dinner that night, Dorian asked his brother what a Garru was. He described it as a neat little creature, about the size of a grown man''s forearm, without legs and about the dimensions of a slug if it were so large. It had large eyes, a cat-like face, and was covered in fur that changed color with the season. Apparently, they were relatively rare unless you were in the Wilds, but some people kept them as pets. They ate scraps mostly, or carrion. They were essential to the ecosystem, apparently, as their scat was basically perfectly rich black dirt. It''s assumed that part of why the wilds grow the way they do is because most of the soil out beyond the villages was heavily comprised of their waste, though the domesticated variety lacked the potency of the wilder ones. There had been many attempts to industrialize on this, but every time, nothing came of it. It was one of the many mysteries of the valley.


    Dorian, and Kurt, were both punished for the next several weeks for being out so late, though Kurt didn''t seem to get into any trouble over the mountain lion skin. Dorian suspected this was because he had it made into a rug, which he gifted to their mother, saying something along the lines of, ¡°lucky catch, fell right into a pit that I spiked out in the southwestern region.¡± His mother chided him for not informing them of any pits, as other trappers might get hurt, so he apologized and said he''d mark the map later. Kurt was much smoother than Dorian thought he could ever be, something Dorian quietly envied in his big brother.


    Though the punishments were long, they weren''t awful. Dorian honestly suspected they were things the two of them would have to do regardless, sweeping leaves, stocking wood, and the like. The only part that seemed to be a true punishment was when their parents occasionally came out and merrily chided them as they worked. The only other punishment was the temporary requisition of their line poles. Dorian wasn''t terribly attached to his, he had it for a single day, though Kurt was distraught at being stripped of his new favorite thing.


    After a few weeks of manual labor, Dorian''s father came out to the backyard with both line staffs and one of his own. Kurt immediately stopped clearing the back pond of muck, not out of earnest interest, more so because it was the first excuse he had to cut out of the disgusting duty. Dorian, on the other hand, was busy breaking up walnuts, a sizable number of shells had been stacked beside him. He was seated on an old tree stump taking in the view of mid-to-late autumn. The leafless trees around them became shadowy frame by which they would live for the next four months, and the ambiance of it all had Dorian feeling on edge over the upcoming Autumnal Equinox Festival.


    Dorian''s father, Rand, had begun bellowing with laughter at the approach of Kurt. After Dorian had realized he was sending his thoughts outward he had made a special note to keep himself from Sending. He had developed a consistent fear of either being noticed by somebody else or of hearing things he would never want to know. Since they were so far away, Dorian simply started using the ability. He had come to realize that all people, whether they realized it or not, thought about what they were saying. Some people barely did, Dorian mused, but like a filter, the mind picked up on the words coming out of anyone''s mouth whether intentionally or not.


    ¡°I see you''ve got my line staff there, Da. I hope you don''t intend it for kindling, it likely couldn''t start a fire, not even for such a prestigious cook as yourself.¡± Kurt was obviously playing a part, Dorian could tell, and his father wasn''t amused.


    ¡°Don''t grovel, it''s unbecoming.¡± Rand stuck the first two poles in the earth, then hefted the third. ¡°I see you know that you can burn the end to make them keep a point, but did you know you can smoke them?¡±


    Kurt frowned, ¡°No I didn''t, what does that do?¡± He still seemed to be playing innocent.


    ¡°Care to find out?¡± Rand raised an eyebrow, then said, ¡°Have you been working on your swimming?¡±


    Kurt, eyes wide, put his hands out in a ¡°please, don''t do whatever it is you''re going to do!¡± Rand smirked in a way very reminiscent of Kurt''s smirk, hefted the pole like a javelin, took two heavy steps and threw. The pole arced through the air, launched with the skill and grace Dorian had seldom seen from his father. The pole flew so far that, instead of landing in the pond, actually made its way to the opposing bank and stuck straight into the shoreline, with just a few inches of water actually touching it. Kurt bellowed in alarm and started sprinting for the pond.


    ¡°It''s gonna be ruined!¡± Kurt shouted as he ran away, the sound of his father''s laughter echoing all the way through the valley.


    Dorian took this as an opportunity to go see what his father was doing with their line staves out. He stood, dusted some splintered shells off himself, and made his way to his father. He was still chortling and chuckling as he watched Kurt dive headlong into the pond rather than run all the way around it.


    ¡°What''s going on Dad?¡±


    Rand, taking a break from his laughter as best he could, replied ¡°The first thing I wanted is to see your brother run, he looked pretty miserable cleaning out the pond.¡± He cackled again when he heard Kurt get out of the water with a whine, taking up his pole, and inspecting it. After a moment, he started walking the long way back, wiping his ears and hair of moss.


    ¡°Also, I did some work on your poles. We''ve got the festival coming up, and I assumed you two would want to take them with you. Here, I''ve got yours here.¡± He tossed Dorian the staff sidelong, and Dorian caught it deftly. He did like the stupid thing.


    Inspecting it, it was now a slight shade darker across the whole of it, with exception to just above the tip. A straight line had been seared down the staff on either side, with cross hatches every six inches or so. It looked kind of stylish, but in a practical kind of way.


    ¡°What''s with-¡± Rand cut Dorian off, ¡°Be patient son, I don''t like to repeat myself, and Kurtis is nearly back.¡± Dorian fidgeted a bit, then decided to inspect the staff more thoroughly while they waited on Kurt.


    When he arrived, he did so with scorn on his face. ¡°You could have ruined it, you know.¡±


    Smirking at his son, Rand said, ¡°No, I couldn''t have. I wanted to show you, and there''s a few tricks I''ve managed to work in.¡±Kurt chimed in contemptuously, ¡°how would you know how to work a line staff, you''re the village cook.¡±


    ¡°Just because I''m a village cook, doesn''t mean I don''t know my way around a stave, boy.¡± Rand seemed to be peeved about the comment. Eyebrow raised, their father asked, ¡°can you read?¡± Kurt nodded, catching on to the fact that he had hit a sore subject. ¡°Then by your logic, you should be a priest or a scribe. Should I call your mother to switch your trade?¡± Kurt shook his head, and mumbled a ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Rand seemed to lighten. ¡°When I was a young man, despite my craft, was trained with the spear properly, not a stave, but the concept works the same for individual combat.¡±


    Curious, Dorian spoke up then, putting on the air of a ten-year-old, ¡°Wait, but isn''t that a weapon? Aren''t those forbidden?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Rand said, with a touch of reproach in his voice. ¡°History isn''t really my subject, but it was a demand of our priest at the time, there was talk of unrest in Kresson. That doesn''t matter.¡± He sighed, then began again, ¡°Since we''re a few weeks away from the festival, and your mother isn''t going to be attending due to her condition. I''m going to train you in the spear,¡± he pointed at Kurt, ¡°and the same for you but for different reasons.¡± He pointed at Dorian.


    Kurt, not missing this excellent opportunity to embarrass his brother, poked a finger into Dorian''s stomach, muttering ¡°different reasons.¡± Kurt laughed then, and Dorian''s face started to go hot.


    Swift as a bird of prey, Rand swiped out Kurt''s back heel in a whirl of motion, Kurt hit the dirt making a ¡°whump¡± noise as the air shot out of his lungs. Rand finished the maneuver by tapping Kurt''s stomach lightly once, twisting the staff about and pointing an end at Kurt''s neck. It happened so fast that Dorian would have missed it with a long blink.


    Kurt''s eyes were wide, but he didn''t move. Rand spoke then, quiet in a way that would make anyone listen intently. ¡°Don''t be an insolent little snot, that''s not how I raised you.¡± Rand withdrew his stave, whirled, and stood tall with his shoulders back. He tapped his line staff against the ground once, demanding attention. The man was a gods damned giant.


    ¡°Take form!¡± Rand barked, and Kurt shot up right, mimicking the posture of his father. They both looked at Dorian, not sure what to do, he took his staff up and mimicked as well.


    They practiced in the yard until sunset, covering what Rand called ¡°Basics for basics.¡± Dorian had immediately registered the jibe and scowled. It took Kurt another hour before he got it, when he did it was midway through the transition between defensive and offensive stances. He fell right over, giggling to himself. Dorian wanted to give Kurt a tough time over being an idiot but assumed it would be lost on him all the same. More''s the pity.


    The physical practice ended with the sun setting, despite this, it bled into their conversations all throughout dinner. The dinner itself wasn''t entirely opulent, day old bread with chicken that had been seared in a walnut sauce his father had made from flour and rendered fat. It was tasty, but half-hearted. The conversation, however, involved an argument between Rand and Rita over the practicality of teaching them how to wield a stave over a spear. It got relatively heated, Kurt chiming in on his mother''s behalf. Rand, realizing he was outnumbered began backing off, but Kurt and Rita were wolves. The trick with wolves is to never show weakness.


    ¡°Hold on then, if stave work is for fending off wildlife, and spears for everything, why don''t the trappers all train for spears?¡± Dorian finally spoke.


    The table went quiet for a long moment, then Kurt said, ¡°Better to be a master of the one skill that''s practical, than to be an apprentice in two.¡± Rita nodded, gesturing to Kurt, as though he captured the point perfectly.


    ¡°Can''t someone be a master in more than one field? I''ve seen Kurt dress a kill in the wilds with the expertise that few at the cookery could keep up with, does that mean we should drag him over to our trade? I think that if you can master one skill, you can master another and be talented at both. Otherwise, you just waste yourself on trying to live in someone else¡¯s idea of what you can or can''t be.¡± Rand gestured to Dorian in the exact same fashion his mother had done to Kurt. He grinned at Dorian and flashed him a wink.


    It was quiet at the table for a moment, then Rita spoke up. ¡°Well, since you seem to believe you can master two trades there, my young and ambitious little Dor, I suppose you''ll be meeting us at noon for staff training from now on.¡± She quirked an eyebrow at Rand, he shrugged. Looking over, he just said, ¡°Dorian?¡±


    ¡°I don''t know mom, I wouldn''t want to put your trappers to shame.¡± He smiled, and Rand burst into laughter so raucous that Dorian could feel the vibrations echoing from his father''s chest. His mother was glaring at him, but it swiftly evolved into a smile. Rand spoke then, putting a hand on Dorian''s shoulder. ¡°That''s my boy, and we''ll work on the staff every night. I suppose, we''ll have to get someone else for log duty from here on out.¡±


    ¡°Really?!¡± Dorian nearly shouted in elation.


    ¡°No, now you''ll just have to get it all done by noon. It''ll be a reminder that confidence is good, aptitude and application is better.¡± Rand stood and began collecting the stone plates from everyone at the table. Like magic, he balanced them all on one hand and left to where the pump was to stack the dirty dishes. His mother spoke up then, ¡°And arrogance is shit. Maybe we should both pay more attention to raising our children humble, before they both become as arrogant as you.¡±


    His father just chimed back, not even looking their way, ¡°Coming from the best Hunt in ten generations, I''ll assume that the best cook in the valley should just bow and grovel. If our children are to be excellent, we should treat them as such, is all I mean, love.¡±


    Kurt took the chance to speak up, ¡°What do you mean mom? I''m the humblest young man in the valley.¡± He said this with a nonchalance that could only be fake. Rita gave him a frank look, so Dorian said, ¡°Good thing you''re the humblest in the valley, otherwise people would notice that I''m the humblest in the world.¡± He said it, intoning it in exactly the right way an ignorant ten-year-old should. The laughter that erupted from his parents was so uplifting that the two brothers couldn''t help but join in.


    In that moment, Dorian accidentally tuned in to the emotions of those around him, and the feeling of warmth, hope, excitement and love was almost overwhelming. He knew, as young as he was, that it would likely be one of the most carefree and purely joyous moments of his life.

 Chapter 8 - Unexpected Violence

    It has been so long since I''ve put pen to parchment, so long that the sunsets and sunrises seem to blur, the cascade of time becoming the break upon which my own waters may still. The generations have since bred in upon themselves so many times that I honestly wonder how we have survived. I''ve waited for the deformation to begin, so long have I waited. From those memories I had taken from my own master I remember stories of ancient peoples, and how they dealt with such... grotesque anomalies. Whether it be the pure pleasure of release or the raw amount of Gia it would provide to the reservoir, I dare say I''m giddy with excitement and anticipation.


    Despite his mother''s boasts, and his father''s insistence, breaking trade rules was a big deal. Dorian wondered whether it was okay that they would be making an exception to the regular trade rules for him but disregarded it as no big deal. He could sit about pondering over the moral impositions of having the privileges he had, how many others would never be afforded the opportunity to pick up skills from other craft houses but decided that the reality was what it was. Pondering over the what if wouldn''t change the fact that he was being shown special treatment, and moral or not, Dorian intended on taking advantage of everything he could in life.


    So, after a week of arguments between the village head, his mother and father, and other craft houses, he was allowed to attend the stave training with the trappers. Apparently, it wasn''t entirely uncommon for some tradesman to pick of the stave, as people like the cutters and caretakers would be close enough to the Wilds to warrant some training, but there was no honest correlation between cooking and being in the Wilds. Regardless, Dorian was excited for the opportunity.


    He was so excited in fact, that he took every chance given by his father, brother, and once even his mother, to improve his skills. He accidentally overheard a conversation about his ongoing horizontal growth between his parents, which brought him nothing but shame and embarrassment. So, as to put his best foot forward, he cut back on the breads and worked himself to a sweat whenever possible. He took to speed running the log stacking and kept a weighted staff he could work with while he was waiting for his father to instruct him on his next set of chores. If he wasn''t cooking anything new, he wouldn¡¯t take taste tests so often, for fear that he may continue to gain weight.


    To his chagrin, and despite feeling more energetic and optimistic, in two weeks¡¯ time he hadn''t lost any fat. He was worried he had gained weight, which made absolutely no sense. Worse yet, despite his good intentions, he was most afraid of embarrassing his parents and brother, which seemed to make the threat of shame dance around in the back of his mind.


    Finally, the first day he could attend staff training with the trappers was on him. In his excitement, he lost some sleep the night before but still managed to rush through his morning duties at the cookery. The batches of dough he made up in the morning, making three batches in total. One that was made for hard bread, another for pitas, and finally a third for breads. The pita bread dough was a rarity, meant to take on the road, it was traditional to the equinox festivals. He was honestly a little surprised he remembered how to make it.


    His father, once again not recalling having taught his son how to make the dough, inspected the process as Dorian went, claiming that Dorian must have a photographic memory if he could so easily recall semi-annual recipe. His father, and two other master cooks, would make a large batch of pitas on the next day, saving Dorian from having to do additional work. Still, the day''s meals would be served regardless of what was going on, and Dorian was still responsible for loading the ovens and the baking trays.


    Finishing nearly a half hour early, Rand told his son to scurry along to his first stave practice. Fearing his son wouldn''t have good attire to wear to practice, he offered Dorian a ragged set of clothes that the cooks were nearly done with. They were shabby, made of wool, and if it didn''t have an oil stain covering some area of the tunic, instead there was a burn mark. After Dorian had inspected them, he asked if it was proper to wear something like that to practice, but Rand insisted, stating ¡°Oh, aye, if you think they''re ragged now, just you wait until a few weeks go by. You''ll want to wear something you can ruin.¡±


    Dorian agreed, changed his tunic, and made his way out the door. On the way to the trappers¡¯ trade house, he mused whether he should take a venture out to weaver¡¯s trade house, just for mischief''s sake. Shooting the idea down, as he would rather have been early than late, he made his way to his first practice.


    It was described to Dorian, by Kurt and their mother, how the practices typically ran. First, stretching, Kurt having shown him the process a few years prior when he had first started. Then, the forms, various stances and how to strike from each. Then it grew more complicated, how to move from one stance to another, how to strike twice in an aggressive stance, opening to move smoothly into a balanced stance. On most days, this would be guided by descriptions in which each point or maneuver was applicable, or as his father put it, ¡°understanding the why.¡±


    Next would-be guided sparring, practicing the moves in slower motions to better understand the mechanics. Each person would be paired up with somebody close to their skills, they would take turns on defense and offense, switching back and forth so they could each gain experience with whatever move they were practicing that day. Then, there would be open sparring. Dorian questioned both Kurt and his mother as to why they would practice sparring against each other despite the training being primarily geared toward wildlife, both of which replied with a simple, ¡°to build reflexes.¡± That, Dorian supposed, wasn''t the answer he wanted, but would have to suffice.


    Approaching the ¡°courtyard,¡± just the meadow comprising the back yard of the trapper¡¯s house, he could see there were quite a few people there. Cutters, trappers, foragers, caretakers, and now even a cook. He smiled to himself, taking in the seventy-five by fifty-yard area of packed dirt and grass. Some of the older people were there, honing their skills before the upcoming trek, others there for the sake of self-defense while they were alone in the Wilds.


    Catching the outline of Kurt, he made his way over. ¡°Hey there, little bro, glad you could finally make it.¡± Kurt said as Dorian approached. ¡°Have you gotten your practice stave yet?¡± Dorian just shook his head, realizing Kurt wasn''t alone. He was chatting with a girl roughly his age, that looked oddly familiar. She was covering her mouth and giggling at something Kurt had said prior to Dorian''s approach.


    Dorian shook his head, ¡°No I haven''t. First time and all.¡±


    Kurt replied, ¡°Well, there''s a first time for everything.¡± Kurt looked over to the girl, and the bastard, smiling broadly, winked. The girl¡¯s cheeks went bright red, faster than Dorian thought possible. Kurt gestured to the girl, ¡°Dorian, I believe you''ve met Dianna.¡±


    ¡°Not formally, though I think you saved my life once.¡± Dorian put one arm behind his back, nodding his head in a respectful bow, ¡°A pleasure, despite your poor taste in company.¡±


    She brightened, ¡°I see that the wit must run in the family.¡± She smirked at Dorian, giving a slight nod in return, then smiled broadly at Kurt, who was glaring daggers at his little brother. ¡°I''ll leave you to your duties, Hunter.¡± She curtsied, and Kurt waved wearing a goofy looking grin all the while.


    As soon as she was out of sight, Kurt socked his little brother in the shoulder. Seeing it coming, Dorian braced himself, a kind of technique he picked up from using his unearthly strength whenever he could practice at it. In a way, it felt like one half of the whole, but instead of making him strong enough to pick up a Gwam stick, it made him more resilient. Kurt cursed softly, and shook his hand, remembering that it wasn''t the first time that had happened since Dorian figured it out. The vertigo now came and went so fast that most people wouldn''t even notice, Dorian barely did.


    Ushering Dorian along, they came to the back of the trade house, a small shed was attached to it. Inside were an assortment of various staves, of which varied in size, thickness and weight. Apparently, most of them were line staves, but before they were permanently burned, they were imbued with Gwam in the center. It was meant to increase resistance and to better understand the balance of the staff. Kurt grabbed one, tossed it to Dorian then grabbed his own. They left for the training ground, Kurt heading to the front, Dorian following like lost cattle.


    Before the stretching started, one of the master trappers came around, inspecting the individuals and pairing them off. Dorian, realizing that he wouldn''t be paired with his brother, became incredibly self-conscious.


    Not realizing it, most of the other people had paired off, in rough positions relative to where they would be practicing at. There were lines painted on the field making a grid, each box of the grid giving enough space between the trainees to ensure their safety. Dorian stood with Kurt and waited for the master to come around. As he approached, Kurt spoke up before the master had a chance.


    ¡°Master Kel, this is my little brother Dorian.¡± Kurt gestured to him. Standing tall, Dorian said, ¡°Thank you for having me, sir.¡±


    Master Kel was a tall enough man, shorter than his father, but built like an anvil. Broad shouldered, a small paunch, shaggy blonde hair mottled with gray covered a parallel set of scars down the left side of his face. The intimidating man eyed Dorian, ¡°Ah, the exception. To the back with ya, the front row is reserved for the best.¡±¡°What about a partner, sir?¡± asked Kurt.


    Eyeing Dorian more intently now, he made a thinking noise while running his thumb up and down his scar. Dorian looked away, assuming it would be rude to gawk.


    ¡°Look at me, boy.¡± Dorian turned, feeling a little irritated at being called ¡°boy.¡± It wasn''t that being younger felt like a slur, more that he had been born different. Most childish behaviors weren''t natural for him, which left him feeling exposed unless he followed along with the act. Which, oddly, came naturally to him, like these were things he''d already done but had forgotten. Any act that he did engage in, he did so by choice, not by default. To be called ¡°boy¡± implied that he never had the choice of the matter, when in all actuality he did. That wasn''t to say that he could keep up in the yard with one of the adults, just that he didn''t want to be treated like an ignorant child. Then again, Dorian thought, I suppose I can¡¯t blame him for seeing what should be obvious.


    Master Kel tilted his head, seeing something there. ¡°Q.¡± He nodded, ¡°You have leave to show him his place, center back row. When you get back, Kurtis, you''ll be taking center front.¡± He bobbed his chin to Kurt, Kurt bowed saying, ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Grabbing Dorian by the shoulder, Kurt dragged him to the back, consolidating advice as he went.


    ¡°You''ve been given a lucky position, you''ll be paired with little Q. Don''t expect anyone to go easy on you. C positions, or center rows, fight from front to back, rather than to the left or right, most the time you must fight to the right or left to gain rank, excepting C fighters. It''s kind of a hot seat, because you''ll be at the very back, but it''s the fastest way to gain rank. Someone else can challenge you at the end of practice from a second or fourth row position, but only once per week. Since you''re the newest, people will likely try to take advantage. I just got moved into the hot spot myself, don''t worry when you lose. It happens. Just stay in your square and do your best to keep up. Got it?¡±Dorian wanted to say hell no or ask why he hadn''t been informed of a ranking system before. Instead, he just asked, ¡°What''s so special about C-1?¡±


    ¡°I have to spar with the instructor.¡± Kurt replied, a bit of green on his face. ¡°Don''t make fun, at least not here, okay?¡±


    Dorian nodded, finding his square, and took position with his staff.


    After a few more minutes, everybody seemed to be in their appropriate places. Dorian was so intent on listening in he hadn''t taken a moment to inspect who he''d be sparring with. It was a girl, long auburn hair tied up tight in a ponytail, standing with the posture any scout would be proud of. Before inspecting her any further, the master trapper began speaking.


    ¡°We have a few outsiders here today, mostly those who haven''t made it in for a refresher. These are the men and women who will be defending your travel for the next three days journey to the festival and will be protecting you and your families on the way back. They do this as volunteers, so remember to be grateful. Any others that feel they are qualified enough to make guard, please see me after practice today.¡± He took a moment to look some people in the eye, which Dorian could barely tell from how far back he was. The master trapper began pacing as he continued in his gruff voice.


    ¡°Today, we are working through basic stances, most of you should be familiar with. We will be emphasizing neutral and offensive stances today and working the transitions between. Please, begin your stretches, and we''ll get started.¡±


    After everybody got down, and followed the stretching routine Kurt had taught him, the instructor spoke up. ¡°Stand tall!¡± He waited a moment for everybody to get up and take position. ¡°Out in the Wilds, it is life or death. The sphere of our world is only limited to where we can survive. Assuming you''re here to avoid becoming bear scat, I expect professionalism. Do not test me, I have no compunctions with leaving you out to die.¡± He paused again, letting it sink in. ¡°Pay attention and don''t forget your footing!¡± He bellowed this last part right in the face of someone standing next to Kurt.


    ¡°Follow closely, this is the drill we''ll seek to emulate today.¡± He took position and presented an example. He shouted ¡°Mid!¡± Taking a balanced stance, the staff extended in front of himself at a diagonal. ¡°Left def off!¡± He bellowed before raising his right hand, standing the pole up right, shoving left, twisting, fluidly moving into an offensive stance. With right hand extended, dominant foot forward he shouted again, ¡°Off Def Mid!¡± He flicked the stuff up, then down hard into the dirt. Using the ground as a pivot point, he set his weight against the staff to resume his balance stance, twisting out in a large arc. He held for a moment, then continued his instruction.


    ¡°If you are dealing with a larger animal you will want to plant your stave in the dirt, balance against it to assume your offensive stance. Observe.¡±


    He went through the process again, but this time, instead of shoving left, he lanced the staff into the earth, then twisted to unearth it, using the pole to dance past the slowest portions of the movement. ¡°It always comes down to balance, any one idiot with a stick can fend off a raccoon, but fighting against a boar, or wolves jumping at you, you''ll need to have a point of leverage that can outmatch them, otherwise, you''ll get knocked on your ass and you''ll end up as pretty as me.¡± He paused again, then said, ¡°If you''re lucky.¡± He smiled looking smug, and Dorian had to admit, like one mean son of a bitch. Not that Dorian was pissing himself or anything, but something about the way the man looked reminded Dorian of the mountain lion that had attacked him, something intimidating on a primal level.


    They started practicing, taking the movement slow but together. Thankfully, Dorian''s father had taken some extra time to teach him a few movements that were correct to the trappers. Sadly, the moves weren''t universal between the spear training and the staff training, but there was a significant amount of continuity between the stances. The thrusting movements were comparable, but the spear training went through multiple different angles, whereas the staff didn''t care about practicing some things like overhead thrusts, or foot strikes, instead focusing more intently on sweeps. With animals, it was about a swift kill. Either hunting directly, or, the more likely scenario, you were being attacked by a beast with a growling stomach.


    Dorian struggled to find his feet, whether he was nervous on his first day or excited he wasn''t sure. He started the movements properly, would fumble, and recover by the end, making a sloppy display compared to those around him. Essentially, he knew where he should end up, just not the way to get there properly.


    Dorian idly wondered at how disadvantaged the system was. By putting the worst at the back, they would struggle on making out the details of the instructor¡¯s movements, thus making it harder for them to rise, whereas being closer to the front means you could see well, and thus were more likely to get a visit from the trainer in person. Apparently, making master status meant you didn''t walk further than you had to. Damn.


    Still, Dorian made his way like everyone else at the back did, by inspecting those around him. Feeling too bashful to inspect the in front of him, he inspected her challengers. One, a bald man that had to be in his late sixties, the second, a stocky caretaker that seemed to have shoulders that eclipsed his own. Then again, he was young.


    Despite the age of either of them, their coordination was obviously poor, their movements jarring compared to the smooth movement Dorian had seen the rest of his family perform. Training with the best makes you the best, Dorian mused to himself. Perhaps he should bother to do some staff work with Kurt next chance he has.


    Not sure how to place his feet with the staff planted, he finally decided to inspect the girl in front of him. She outclassed her two challengers to either side, her movements were relatively precise. He watched as she lowered her mass to press against the staff in front of herself, to pop up again. He tried to mimic her but was sluggish. He wasn''t used to lowering his weight so quickly, and it took several rotations to get it down.


    ¡°Nice one, tumble butt.¡± Dorian distinctly heard in his mind. Finally having a better feel for when he was receiving thoughts from his brother, he was able to maintain whether he was actively sending and receiving or not. He wasn¡¯t and was relatively sure of it. He kept a straight face but stumbled a bit in the next movement. Laughter echoed in his head. He shot her a glance with an outraged glare, her eyes went wide momentarily. Those eyes¡­ yes, Dorian recognized them. Brown eyed Quena stared back at him, pale in the autumn backdrop. Dorian hadn''t seen her since the first time he thought she was Sending. Of course, he had seen her at official events like the village meetings, or the Priorius sermon, but was too bashful to go speak with her. Dorian wondered often if she had heard him back, or if his imagination was getting the better of him. Now he was sure she had to be a Priorius.


    Trying not to make a scene over the revelation, he focused and kept in line with the movements of everybody around. He kept himself shut off from the telepathy but couldn''t help but feel an unerring sense of concern emanating from in front of him. She was going to get him caught.


    Master Kel started shouting a continuation of the lesson. ¡°Most beasts you''ll have to deal with are great cats, boar and wolves. More often than not, you''ll never deal with a bear attack. Bears don''t like large crowds, and too many noises, whereas cats and wolves like to hunt the vulnerable. Since you will likely be first or last in your march, you will be most exposed. Remember, use your staves to parry the bulk when they lunge, having the staff out in front of you may be enough to get them to back off, but yelling helps. Remember, to fight these things, you must be as primitive as they are. Shout, scream, yell, and snarl at any given opportunity, not only will this raise the alarm for everybody else, but it will intimidate them. Slow practice today will be the lunge and parrying it. Do not forget, this is to synthesize an animal attack, the parry against your partner won¡¯t carry the weight of a full lunge by a vicious animal that thinks your legs look tasty. Still, reaction time is key. Low-side, you parry first, those at higher ranks will follow suit and rotate. I will demonstrate.¡±


    Kurt stepped to the front, bowed at the class, then took stance against Master Kel. He bowed at Kurt, and Kurt followed suit. He shouted a hardy ¡°Begin!¡± and Kurt lashed out, taking one step before vaulting into the air, using his weight he stabbed out at the instructor''s center of mass. As he did, Master Kel planted his staff out in front of himself, anticipated the strike, and simply leaned the staff over. Once Kurt''s strike began to reach out, the master anticipated, leaned the staff over and essentially scooped the oncoming strike over, moving himself out of the way in the process. He spun deftly, just as they had been practicing, and pulled the staff free. He found his offensive stance, and Kurt took up a neutral one. The master lunged out, but Kurt was surprisingly deft and copied the maneuver perfectly. They centered again and bowed.


    ¡°Well done, Kurt.¡± Dorian heard the instructor mumble. Then he shouted to the rest of the class, ¡°You may begin, I''ll be around to inspect you in due course.¡± He walked over to Kurt and shared some words with him, but nothing Dorian could make out from how far off he was.


    The entire practice yard went a little less rigid and began exchanging words and taking places. Dorian looked over at his partner, feeling green. Not knowing what to say, Dorian didn''t say anything, his nerves getting the best of him. ¡°You ready?¡± Quena asked, and Dorian just nodded.


    He took his place, taking his stance. He wasn''t breathing heavily anymore, but earlier in the practice he struggled to keep up. After a little while, he seemed to be able to keep up without issues, but now his heart was in his throat.


    ¡°Gwendos, don''t drop dead on me. Partner or not, I''m not helping your fat ass up.¡± Dorian heard this in his head and glared at the girl. She bowed, Dorian mimicked her.


    As Dorian lifted his head, he saw the second step of her lunge, she had already begun, breaking rotation by starting first. Trying to make up for lost time, he planted his staff attempting to swivel off the attack and out of the way. It was a fifty-fifty chance as to whether he''d guess wrong, right? Apparently, those odds weren''t good, because instead of blocking the attack, he ended up guiding it directly between his legs. Lights of pain shot across his vision, he tried to swerve away but the pain was debilitating. He completed the movement, sloppily, and rested against his staff. He fell to his knees, the pain throbbing throughout his body.


    He heard laughter echoing all around him, and at least ten different voices in his head, all making shrewd comments about him. One person, a boy a few years older Dorian guessed, voiced the words aloud, ¡°what a fat piece of shit.¡± His partner chided him for not paying attention and resumed sparring but the embarrassment Dorian felt was overwhelming. Tears started to fall from his face, but rather than quitting he ignored the pain and stood back up. He shut off his telepathy and bared his teeth. It was his turn to strike.


    He took two strides and struck down after giving a half-hearted leap. He felt stiff as he did so, and Quena snorted at his poor form. She blocked the strike, pivoted, but before entering her stance proper, with stunning accuracy, she struck out with the staff and tripped Dorian. He fell hard, his momentum too much to bear.


    As Dorian fell, he put an arm out to prevent the worst of it. A loud ¡°pop¡± echoed out from his forearm. A series of hisses came from the others at practice, and several people stopped what they were doing to come check on what was going on.


    In his mind, he heard her say, ¡°Big boy gets taken down by a little girl. How pathetic.¡± Anger beginning to boil, he turned over and stared at her. He grabbed his staff trying to use it to stand up, but a pain shot down his forearm that seemed to shoot lightning down his body. He looked at it, now seeing that his forearm was bent at a bad angle, looking almost like the noodles he made for the wintertime soups.


    None so pleased, Dorian waved away the people coming to help him. ¡°It''s okay, just a tumble.¡± He murmured pleasantly to them. Two of them went back to practice, but a third gave him a disbelieving look, before deciding it wasn''t her problem to deal with.


    Feeling pale, and probably looking it, Dorian stood and put himself into a guard position. He bowed at the girl, and took position, grimacing at the pain. She looked at him, smirking about something. Dorian would have been curious, but she projected before his curiosity peaked. ¡°Wow, so hypothetical. Big, slow, and stupid. All right tubs, if you think you can keep up.¡± She took two steps, vaulting into the air. Dorian was ready this time, parried the maneuver and came out into his stance proper. It was so fluid, that Dorian himself didn''t expect it. It was like he had...


    White light seared across his vision, then gray. He lost himself, for a time.  Eternity? A moment?He was practicing in the yard; he had practiced every day just to join the rest. He didn''t have a fully functional right hand, it was mangled by a large rodent when he was just a babe, two of his fingers were lost and the remaining two fingers and thumb had lost most feeling in them. He had practiced for several seasons, learning how to use the staff against his other limbs to become a greater contender. He wanted the glory, he wanted to win, and not so people would say ¡°despite the bad hand he was great.¡± No, he wanted the recognition because he simply was the greatest. Not because of my weakness, but because of my own relentless will and strength. He knew, like he knew the sun would rise, he would be champion of the Valley Tournament. They would name a house after him, he would become a legend.


    Time drifted, he felt sensations of heartbreak, sadness, success, and victory. His thoughts became muddled, and the white came. Like for a brief time his senses had fallen asleep but came abruptly awake. Jarring, Dorian was back into himself and not a moment had passed. He felt like he had lived a lifetime as that other person, but he couldn''t recall...


    His thoughts were cut off by Quena. ¡°Your go.¡± Dorian nodded, suddenly feeling out of body. This wasn''t his body, was it? Fat, and slow, no grace, no musculature. A child, a lump of clay yet to be molded. As the thought came to Dorian, he grinned to himself.


    I will mold myself to match the fire I feel.


    Pulling on the memories, Dorian came out, and deliberately took a stutter step, dragging his leg and moving his hip like he would be going left, instead he took one step right and hopped off as best he could. Mid-air, he twisted, putting the full force of his body weight behind him. Despite the well-placed parry Quena had attempted, it was no match for the force Dorian had applied. He was tubs, after-all. His staff simply kept going, and Quena''s reaction time wasn''t prepared for it. His staff caught her thigh, hard, she gasped but managed to finish the movement to land in her offensive stance. She shouted in Dorian''s mind, ¡°What the fuck?!¡± The mental shout that followed came with a charge, trying to take the initiative, but Dorian was ready.


    Just before Quena struck out at him, he activated his telepathy, shouting back at her. ¡°Would you cut it out?!¡± Her strike wavered, and using the staff to his advantage, he gripped it in the cusp of his upper arm and pivoted his footing back to an aggressive stance. He looked at her, and spoke through his mind, ¡°please, just stop sending.¡±


    ¡°Hey Q, this bear scat giving you problems?¡± Came a voice from behind him.


    Quena looked shocked, so Dorian spoke up. ¡°Na, she''s giving the bear scat more problems than it can handle.¡± He said it off offhandedly, trying to jest over the serious situation the newcomer had stumbled into.


    ¡°I wasn''t talking to you, fat fuck,¡± replied the voice.


    Not taking his eyes off his sparring partner, mostly out of mistrust for her tactics, he replied to the voice. ¡°Rather fat than ugly, fat people can always lose weight.¡± When he turned to look at the newcomer he realized he was looking directly at someone''s stomach. Raising his head, the young man was about Kurt''s age. Dorian realized it was the same voice as earlier, and finally, gazing at the kid''s face, he knew him. His name was Bo, and he was related to the Smiths. He was slightly taller than Kurt with short, cropped hair, but lacked the muscularity Kurt possessed. His body was relatively lean and was one of the wiry types that always seemed to be a bit stronger and faster than one would expect. His tall outline loomed over Dorian; his face shadowed by the sun.


    It was at that moment that Dorian recalled an accident down at the smithy. The lack of Steelfyre had led to some poor qualities around the smithy, one of impure lumps had exploded right near Bo''s face, leaving one side hideously scarred and pocked. Dorian moved to put his hands up, to apologize for the joke he had made, but what happened next occurred so fast that Dorian had no way to respond.


    Bo hooked Dorian over his broken arm, cupping his forearm by Bo''s armpit, the pain that winced down Dorian''s arm was breathtaking. Holding Dorian''s arm tight, he shot out several blows to Dorian''s face. The first, a direct shot to his nose, had stunned Dorian. Not that it was such an earth-shattering strike or anything, what mostly stunned him was how unbidden the sudden attack was.


    By the time the second and third strike came, blood had burst forth from Dorian''s nostrils, and each follow-up strike had splatted blood on Bo''s fists and across Dorian''s vision. Finally realizing he was under assault, Dorian tried to get away, dropping his weight to get his arm out of the grip of his assailant. He thought it was a clever idea, but Bo was planted firmly. As Dorian dropped, Bo squeezed tight on his arm, and instead of wrenching himself free, his arm began twisting at an impossible angle.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    The whimper that echoed from Dorian''s throat was cut short as Bo let go. Dorian hit the ground with enough force to push the air out of his lungs. Before he could breathe, Bo was on him again, shouting obscenities. He struck again, once against Dorian''s eye, the other his lip. He was coming down for a third blow when a mass shoved Bo off him.


    Dazed and a bloody mess, he was hoping he''d simply lose consciousness. No such luck.


    He turned over onto his stomach, clutching at his broken arm. Bringing his knees up, and resting there, Dorian inspected his mangled arm. The blur of people around him became something he was only passively aware of, the shouting even less so. As he looked, the shock and horror of the situation roiled through his body. Now that he was aware of what had happened, he was uncontrollably upset. He let out a soft murmur and clutched his arm to his body. A lump began to form in his throat. His eyes were watering, so he shut them in shame, keeping them clamped so tight it hurt his brow.


    ¡°I swear, by the gods, if I ever see you here again, I''ll make those scars on your face look like beauty marks! You worthless spit of a Smith spawn bastard! Leave this yard before I call the Diggers!¡± It was Master Kel, Dorian realized. He heard shuffling and muffled shouts; they were coming from the other direction. Dorian cleared his eyes, seeing Kurt flailing madly. The muffled shouts were from him, as six people, two of them adults and twice his size, were holding Kurt back. There was spit flying from his mouth, the rage unyielding. It was the first time Dorian could honestly say he''d seen someone frothing mad.


    Dorian, still dazed and unsure what to do, used his one good arm to leverage his staff back up. The lump in his throat subsided enough that he could breathe. He stood, tears streaming down his face. He cupped the staff to his shoulder, leaning on it slightly. Hand now free, he used his left to put his mangled right inside the tuck of his oil stained, now blood stained, tunic. Feeling surreal, not sure if he was driven by shock or duty, he walked back to the square Quena was in, wiped his running eyes against his shoulder, and took a one-handed stance.


    In awe of Dorian''s stupidity, Quena mouthed the words, ¡°What are you doing?¡± but Dorian heard it in his head. Reacting in a way that was just as primal as his older brother, he whipped a mental demand at her. ¡°Stop sending!¡± he roared, as he felt his own mental fortitude begin to slip.


    Typically, when Dorian would send it was expressed as words, but this time it was pure intention. It was something more akin to the wild animals he could pick up on than speaking to his brother, but this somehow carried a force. She staggered as though she had been struck. Before anything came of it though, Master Kel had made his way over to investigate Dorian. ¡°What do you think you''re doing there, Lad?¡± Dorian was still teary eyed, and it took him a moment to clear his throat enough to respond. When he did, it came out shaky. ¡°Um, continuing practice, uh, sir?¡±


    He heard Kurt stop fighting, Dorian looked to see his brother gawking open mouthed. Then starting low, a throaty chuckle. Then ever louder, it evolved into a bellowing laugh. Then the others joined him, starting slow, then turning into the kind of laughter you could only catch outside of the Brewer''s trade house towards the end of the night. Even Master Kel, gruff as he was, started in. Dorian, still confused, dazed, and in a wreck of a state, blushed beat red. Embarrassed, and he didn¡¯t even understand why.


    ¡°Aye, practice is done for you today, but a few weeks and we''ll have ya back.¡± Dorian, now completely sure he had botched everything about the day said, ¡°Sir, I, I can''t let my parents down. They worked hard to get me here, I...¡± He tapered off, tearing up again, and had to hold back a sob. He knew he was a pitiful wreck and felt the fear of letting his family down so greatly that he shook as he tried to find the words.


    A hand rested on his shoulder, somehow calming. ¡°Don''t be worryin'' about practice, there''ll be a better day for that. If''n that heart you''re bearing there is any indication, we''ll be glad to have you in the ranks. Come with me now, we''ve got a date with the caretakers back in town.¡± Dorian''s head bobbed, somewhere between dazed and confused. Still flushed with embarrassment he pointedly found something interesting on the ground and inspected it thoroughly.


    ¡°Back to practice you fish! Kurt, with me.¡± The master trapper ushered Dorian along, but before he got far, he heard Quena in his head. ¡°I''m sorry.¡± It wasn''t an ¡°I''m sorry for fighting you like an asshole¡± it was more of a ¡°I''m sorry you got the shit kicked out of you.¡± Disregarding this, Dorian responded to her, mind to mind. ¡°Stop sending so much, keep a low profile around the Priorius. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll be attending the festival now, but we should talk.¡± There was silence for a time, then her voice echoed through his mostly vacant head, ¡°When?¡±


    Dorian replied tersely, ¡°Soon.¡±


    It took a little while, but she responded. A distant and quiet ¡°okay.¡±


    Kurt caught up, and before he could say a word, Master Kel spoke quietly and in control. ¡°You will not assault that boy. You will not assault that family. His punishment for behaving that way is banishment from the practice yard, which is enough. Little Dorian here looks rough, but he''ll be fine.¡±


    Kurt tried to protest, but Kel shut it down immediately. ¡°Unless, of course, you want to enter the Grand Valley Tournament without my teaching?¡± He chuckled softly, and Kurt''s mouth made a stern line. ¡°That''s what I thought. Besides, Bo was a keg of Gwam dust, I knew it the first day he showed up. All he needed was an excuse, your brother just happened to be it. The Smiths don''t have many rights, but they pass through the Wilds enough, mining ore and such, that I couldn''t rightfully say no. If you attack the boy, it''ll leave me without a grievance, ya understand?  I knew he''d be trouble, and I don''t want him in this yard.¡±


    They stopped walking, and Master Kel checked with Kurt, and Kurt gave a terse nod, and a ¡°Yes, sir,¡± without making eye contact. ¡°Tell your da he owes me double what we discussed. Come get Dorian in a few hours, I think Dianna will be there if I have any guess. Now get back to practice, there shouldn''t be much left for instruction, just have them go live for a bit. I should be back before challenges.¡± Kurt looked at Master Kel, then at Dorian with an eyebrow. Dorian nodded, and Kurt turned and jogged back to the practice field.


    The trip was quiet for a time, and Dorian did his best not to look at the disfigured mess that was his forearm. ¡°Uh, Master Kel?¡± The scarred and weathered man slowed his pace a spell and made eye contact with Dorian. ¡°Aye?¡±


    ¡°How much did it cost for you to take me up as a trainee?¡± Looking guilty for asking, Dorian dropped the eye contact, and said, ¡°Sir.¡±


    Grinning, Master Kel said, ¡°Your father is a fantastic cook, as I''m sure you know. He makes these wonderful Kressian dumplings, so spicy you''ll catch fire in the privy.¡± He half chuckled at his own joke, ¡°I told him if he''d make me a batch o'' those if I''d promise to train you. He also made me promise not to tell my wife what I''d been eating.¡± Still chuckling, he resumed his pace and Dorian nearly staggered at the absurdity of it all. Dumplings?


    They made their way to the caretaker''s building, inside the air was just slightly warmer than outside, but the smell was of alcohol, herbs, spices, and something... damp? He wasn''t sure, but he did recognize the Woman approaching them. Diana came out of the door, smiling broadly.


    ¡°Did our little Dorian here get himself into trouble on his first day?¡± The man, jovial before, now looked brooding. Dorian wondered to himself if this was how he idled, and if he himself would benefit from such a behavior. ¡°More than a little, you any good at mending a bone?¡±


    Diana''s face went from polite kind to serious in the blink of an eye. ¡°Come, let¡¯s see. Master trapper, I don''t have anyone else here now save the sick. I''ll need some assistance.¡± He nodded at her, and they were escorted to the back room. It had tall windows on one wall, the other filled with racks containing, Dorian assumed, of medical supplies and tools. She led the way to a table, and gestured Dorian to it. He frowned, not sure if he could jump so high. He wanted to protest, but Master Kel, grabbing Dorian under the armpits like he was a babe, picked him up and set him down on the edge of the table. Feet dangling, Dorian wiggled to find a comfortable position, failed, and gave up figuring he wouldn''t be there forever.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see it.¡± Dorian grimaced, paling a bit, and slowly withdrew his arm. He didn''t want to look at it, but judging by his appearance, he doubted the wound would look half as bad as he did. Doubtfully, half as bad as he felt. Now that he wasn''t moving so much, he came to the discernible conclusion that he was miserable. His eye was swelling up, his head was throbbing, his lip was swollen, and he would consider himself lucky if his nose wasn''t broken. Everything else hurt too, an overall body ache that throbbed with every beat of his heart.


    Getting his arm free was just another throbbing sensation in his cascade of pain, seasoned lightly with sharp stabs of agony. He attempted to extend his arm when Diana gasped, then hissed. ¡°Bo.¡± Master Kel said, ¡°He''d be here too if Kurt hadn''t been held back. But this lad here, he''s got a good heart, so if''n ya don''t mind, say whatever you have to say straight.¡± Eyebrow lifted; he gave her a glare that she seemed to squirm under despite her confident expression.


    ¡°It''s a clean break, should mend but we must get it back in place, and we''ll have to do a line wrap infused with stints. It''ll be a hindrance, but he should be able to fulfill whatever duties he has, so long as he doesn''t put too much stress on it. But I''ll need your help to put everything straight.¡± She stopped looking at Kel and was now looking at Dorian. ¡°I need you to lay back now and rest your arm across the table.¡± Dorian did so, wincing as Master Kel came to a side. He patted Dorian''s shoulder gently while Diana left to retrieve some supplies.


    ¡°I don''t like doing it twice, so keep him held tight. I''m going to set it.¡± Then she spoke softly, handing Dorian something porous. ¡°This is Dulheart, a type of mushroom that will lessen the pain. Bite down on this when it hurts.¡± She handed it to Dorian, and he put it in his mouth, getting ready for the pain. ¡°Do you want to count Dorian or should I?¡±


    Dorian replied, mouth full, ¡°I will.¡± He took a deep breath through his nose, readying himself. Then another, so deep he shook. Still muffled, he counted, ¡°one.¡± Breath, ¡°Two.¡± Deep breath, Deeper, ¡°Thr-¡± Sharp jarring pain rocked through him, he bit down hard, and as the pain made its way to a crescendo, the black at the corners of his eyes enveloped all.


    He woke up some time later, the sun was out but not for much longer. The quiet of the room was eerie, and Dorian''s mind wandered briefly in the serenity. He pondered; how many people had died right there on one of the many beds that lined the room. For the first time he wondered as to how long his people had been there, how long had this building stood. This led him down a path of wondering how many people had died on the very bed he lay on, which finally inspired a bit of motion.


    Doing a brief body check, he noted his head hurt and he was bleary eyed. Despite this, he found an unyielding cast of line wood that cased his forearm, then cleared his eyes as best he could to inspect it.  He knew his head was a bit foggy, likely from that mushroom thing. There was a terrible flavor in his mouth, he tried to move some saliva about to clear his mouth, but his mouth was dryer than his mother''s cooking.


    Inspecting himself, his shabby tunic had been removed and laundered. The blood on his face was gone, but he could feel how much more space the parts of his face were now taking up. It was amazing how things that don''t bother you are always out of notice, until they were of course. Looking around, enough light through the windows kept things relatively clear but whatever had him drugged made him feel like he was floating a bit.


    He got up, swaying unsteadily, but was able to get dressed in short order. It was still quiet, which was odd. There was usually somebody at the ward. Looking about, and not noticing anybody, he made his way in to where he had been treated, where the supplies were.


    Upon entering, he was astonished at his luck. It was quiet, and he was fairly sure there wasn''t anybody there. To be sure he opened his mind to what was happening nearby. Nothing, quiet. Like a muscle, he flexed it further, and he picked up something base. Primal. Like...


    He shut down his receiving with all the force he could command. He blushed furiously for a moment, then made his way to the supplies. On the way, he spotted a large tome, it had been left open. Out of curiosity, and the knowledge he would be able to get away with it, he snooped about, flipping through the book until he came to a page talking about Priorius.


    ¡°Under extreme circumstances in youth it is important to remember what signs to look for. Typical manifestation of Priorius chosen to involve a wide array of unnatural circumstances, of which a healer will not be likely to witness. However, long term use of an untrained Priorius coincides with several signs of malnutrition simultaneously. The physical signs may appear as follows:


    <ol>


    <li>Regular headaches</li>


    <li>Severe muscle cramping</li>


    <li>Extreme and regular vertigo</li>


    <li>Wound that refuse to clot</li>


    <li>Dry skin</li>


    <li>Pale complexion</li>


    <li>Depression</li>


    <li>Poor cognition</li>


    <li>Swollen glands in the neck</li>


    <li>Yellowing teeth and nails</li>


    <li>Obesity</li>


    <li>Puffy face</li>


    <li>Muscle fatigue or weakness</li>


    <li>Sensitivity to cold</li>


    <li>Seizures</li>


    <li>Abnormally fast healing</li>


    <li>Anorexia</li>


    </ol>


    Any of these cases may be cause for alarm for your patient''s health. If you believe you have a patient exhibiting more than one of these symptoms simultaneously, please be in immediate contact with either the head of your band of healers or speak with a Priorius priest. There is a supplement, which will be labeled with the universal symbol located at every ward in the valley. The use of this supplement should be logged, failing to do so can result in immediate expulsion from your trade, and in extreme cases, banishment.


    It is best to serve no less than three thimbles in water to keep the patient hale but is recommended to be given with a sedative if at all possible.


    As Dorian read the last of the page, attempting to turn it, he heard a loud thump followed by laughter. He knew he should bolt out the door but was now seriously curious as to this what this supplement would do. He got up and started searching for anything that had a symbol on the glass jar rather than a written word.


    He scanned the rows of herbs and medicines, without much luck. Taking his time, he went through all of them again, rigorously inspecting each one for the ¡°universal symbol.¡± Not having much luck, he pondered what that symbol would be? Then, figuring that the medicines would likely be placed relative to how often they''re used, he scanned the room looking for any additional storage. He went to a desk he had noticed earlier but thought nothing of and began pilfering through it. Part of him felt guilty for even thinking of stealing, but the other part of him thought it was criminal to take somebody away from their family for something he never had the choice of. Regardless, the last drawer Dorian tried to inspect was locked. He considered simply ripping it open, but that would point directly to himself as he was the only registered patient now.


    The distant laughter echoed again, and Dorian paused, unsure. He thought he knew that laugh... He mentally sent, ¡°Kurt, is that you?¡±


    A slightly feminine yelp came from, what Dorian was assuming, a distant room that was upstairs. Laughter echoed, then a questioning tone. Some murmuring followed when Dorian heard a reply. ¡°If you don''t mind, I''d prefer it if you didn''t chat while I was in... engaged. What do you want?¡± The reply was terse, and Dorian knew he was interrupting, but at that point he really didn''t care.


    ¡°Alright, you lecherous excuse for a protective brother, does the one tainted by your attentions happen to have a set of keys on her?¡±


    Dorian received a mental snort, followed by ¡°Yes, but they may not be on her person now. Want me to do something?¡±


    ¡°Any chance you could get them away from her, and somehow out here?¡±


    ¡°Not likely, wait I think I have an idea. Give me a minute.¡± Dorian waited, too bashful to listen in on what was happening. He took his time climbing the stairs, the conversation becoming louder as Dorian approached, but remained indistinguishable. After some more conversing, then some questions, a key slid out from behind the door, coming to a stop several feet away.


    Despite being round, Dorian always thought of himself as surprisingly sneaky. This was in part due to the consistent and mutual terrorizing between his brother and himself, another part from terrorizing others with said brother, and most importantly, being bulky.  The last might not seem like any big deal, but when you weigh more than most people, just bumping into something can cause a chain reaction of destruction that would leave you embarrassed and responsible.  It led Dorian to develop an understanding and attentiveness to spatial awareness; the amount of sound he made, how heavy his footfalls were, and how slow he could move or how fast depending on circumstances.


    He took the first few steps gingerly enough and slowed himself dramatically. Now remembering he had chewed the mushroom earlier; he became overtly cautious. He knew his balance would be off, so he took short strides, walking heel to toe.


    He was there within a few seconds, he crouched forward and froze. The door opened. Taking a slow breath through his nose, he steeled himself to get busted. His heart was racing when she replied to something Kurt said, agreeing and shutting the door. Dorian nabbed the key and made his way to the stairs.


    Feeling catlike, he glided down the stairs with a bit of mischievous glee. Despite the cast on his arm and having gotten his ass kicked harder than he had ever heard of, he felt a surprisingly good. He made his way to the drawer and opened the locked compartment without much effort. Inspecting the contents, there was a logbook, three glass jars, and one stone. On the stone jar was a symbol, an infinity symbol with a circle blocking out the center, and another circle inside that one.


    He grabbed it and looked around for an empty container of some kind. He didn''t see anything at first glance, but when he walked through the kitchen, he found two small glass vials labeled ¡°Placebo.¡± Dorian shook his head, if the containers most often dirty were the same ones most often used, then the most common medication the caretakers administer is fraudulent. He wondered if that was due to their negligence or to how often people come in for medical attention that didn''t really need it.


    After musing for a moment, he got back to the task at hand. Having a sudden inspiration, Dorian filled the vial as best he could with the chalky white powder. Afraid of taking too much, not sure exactly how much would be noticed, he filled half the finger sized vial. He found some cork, rummaged through it quietly, and inserted it into his container. All that was left was to make sure he had a safe place to put it. The pockets on his tunic were too shallow and would jut out if he simply pocketed the vial. Putting it on his belt would only get it broken...


    Looking down at his cast, he could see a fold on the inside of his forearm. I wonder, Dorian thought as he started swabbing his mouth for spit and licked the fold.


    With shocking speed his tongue became dryer than the Kressian hills, he couldn''t spit if he wanted to. The fold he licked felt slightly malleable. Peeling it back, he placed the vial in, covered it, and held it for the brief minute it took to dry. Gods, that stuff is useful.


    He replaced the stone jar to its former local, locked the drawer up, then made his way up the stairs. He was walking quietly to put the key back when the door swung open. Not halfway like before, and Diana stood there staring at the key in Dorian''s hand. Eyebrow raised, Diana asked, ¡°How long have you been up?¡± It was honest curiosity, nothing suspicious.


    Remembering that his body wasn''t in the best shape, he put on the mask of exhaustion. ¡°I just woke up; I was looking around for someone when I found this.¡± He said, words slurred on his dry tongue. ¡°Could I trade you for some water?¡±


    She brightened, ¡°Oh you poor thing, I completely forgot. That mushroom can give you some nasty cottonmouth.¡± She took the key, smiling at him. ¡°I''ll get you some water, you should head back to your cot, your brother should be here any minute to get you.¡± Dorian gave a mental snort to the white lie, even if Dorian hadn''t spoken to him telepathically, he would be suspicious of her now blushing face and frizzled hair. Still, he had to go through the motions, so he nodded and slowly made his way down the stairs, using the walls for support as he made his way. He didn''t need it, but he figured for how bad he probably looked, and probably should feel, he best makes a proper show of it. He found his way to his cot and sat.


    Diana approached with a stone mug and pitcher. She filled the mug, and Dorian quietly thanked her. Finally slowing, he took a long drink, nearly finishing the mug in a single gulp. Diana laughed, ¡°Yeah, that stuff always gives me the worst dry mouth. Make sure to hydrate when you get home too.¡± She reached out with the pitcher and filled the mug back up again. ¡°Despite the dry mouth, it really is some heavy-duty stuff. I''ll be sending your brother home with some, chew it when you need it, don''t swallow it. I''ll have some instructions included for your parents, and no work for the next week or so. That arm is going to be incredibly tender in a few hours, and until the skin has healed enough you shouldn''t do anything that can cause it stress.¡±


    It was at that moment that Kurt came around the corner, looking every bit the cocky teenager. He looked at Diana for a moment before he got a look at Dorian. His expression darkened considerably. ¡°Hello Diana, good to see you. Is he all ready to head home?¡±


    She nodded, ¡°Yes, but I''ve got some things you''ll have to take with you. Let me write down some instructions, I''ll be right back.¡± She took the pitcher but left the mug, which Dorian was incredibly grateful for.


    When she left the room, Kurt spoke quietly. ¡°I had no idea you''d look this bad. How do you feel?¡±


    Dorian shrugged, ¡°about half as bad as you look.¡± He grinned then said, ¡°I honestly feel great. I don''t know why, but I don''t feel a thing.¡±


    Kurt, now looking curious, came close. ¡°Let me see your eyes.¡± Dorian opened his eyes as wide as he could, his left eye only opening about three quarters of the way. Kurt inspected them, then laughed.


    ¡°Of course, you feel great, Dorian, you''re as high as a bird right now.¡±


    Brow knitting, Dorian wasn''t sure. He said as much, and Kurt just chuckled in response. ¡°You''ve never been drugged before, have you? I could have some fun with it, but I''m not so cruel. Well, on the upside, you''ll be home with mom for the next few days since da and I are heading to the festival.¡±


    Dorian wasn''t really upset about not going, the high priest always made him feel uneasy. Still, waiting around the house for a week straight wasn''t his idea of an enjoyable time either.


    Kurt got somber again, then said, ¡°I should kill that bastard, ya know.¡±


    ¡°I know you want to, but you don''t want to get kicked out, do you? Besides, what''s this tournament I heard about?¡± Dorian was honestly curious, but he also wanted to change the subject. The memory of the entire violent experience was still very raw to him and dwelling on it wouldn''t do him any good now.


    ¡°Oh, yeah that.¡± Kurt replied, somewhat bashfully. ¡°I didn''t want to tell anyone about it, but I was thinking about entering the tournament. They hold it once every two years in Gwendon, but mom and dad don''t like to talk about it.¡± He took a long breath and sighed.


    ¡°Why don''t they like to talk about it?¡±


    ¡°Apparently, it''s where they met. They met early in the tournament and ended up facing off in the semi-finals. Mom won, of course, and dad ended up taking third.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what do you mean of course? Mom is like a foot shorter than dad is.¡±  Dorian replied, confused.


    ¡°Oh, you''ve never seen mom spar, have you? She''s like a whirlwind, all fluid movements and combinations. She used to instruct most staff classes, but since she got pregnant, she hasn''t been keen on too much physical activity.¡±


    ¡°Then why don''t they like to talk about it?¡± Dorian asked, unsure.


    ¡°I don''t know exactly; I know that mom was stripped of her win a year later when she married. It''s a touchy subject around her, and whenever I brought it up dad would just find a way to change the subject.¡±


    Dorian wanted to be pensive, but realized he didn''t have the clarity of thought at that moment to contend with too much thinking. Instead, he just grinned at his brother. ¡°Think you''ll win?¡±


    ¡°Oh, Kressor''s blackened balls, I don''t know. We don''t have much interaction with the other villages. I know that I''m getting close to capping my age group, fifteen and up all compete together, ten to fourteen are part of the junior division. Anything younger and you can''t compete at all. I think I have fair odds to be honest.¡± He rubbed the back of his head.


    Diana came back with a stone jar, out of the corked top was a piece of paper. ¡°All right, this should be everything. Make sure your mother gets the instructions, and don''t let him get the cast wet. The cast should stay on for the next three months, the break was bad but clean. He''ll likely have some residual pain, but he''s young yet.¡± She looked down and smiled at Dorian, ¡°Don''t itch it too much.¡±


    She turned on her heel and left the room, appearing as though she had a whole lot of busy work to get to. Looking at Kurt, Dorian noticed him blushing furiously, holding a piece of paper in his hand. Realizing he had been standing there like a doofus for too long, he shoved the paper in his pocket, and gestured Dorian to get up to leave. Dorian centered himself and made his way out the front with his brother in stride.


    They walked some before Dorian asked ¡°So, what, exactly, were you doing up there?¡± The nighttime air was a relief, slightly cool but fresh. There was little to no breeze and the local flora sat idly, the night quiet outside the sound of their feet on the dirt trodden road.


    Kurt blushed again, then coughed. ¡°I don''t know what you mean, little brother.¡± He replied with a fist up to his mouth.


    Dorian scowled at him, ¡°I''m not that ignorant, high or not. Aren''t you a little young to be making babies?¡±


    ¡°I''d sock you one but I''m afraid I''d break you. No Dorian,¡± Kurt sighed dramatically. ¡°Nothing so deviant as all that. She''s a bit older than me, and I like her, I just don''t think I should yet. That''s something special, and we''re both young. I''m not ready to be a dad, and even if I were, I don''t think she''s ready to be a mother.¡± Kurt looked pensive for a moment, then said, ¡°I will say, she''s pushier than I am.¡±


    Dorian guffawed, ¡°I highly doubt that.¡±


    ¡°No, I''m serious. Don''t forget, we have a name to our house, that''s something that a whole lot of people are after. The fact that we might have a name for both sides soon is an even bigger concern. If dad''s side becomes legitimized, we can freely choose trades and get better options for our own children in the future. It''s a big deal, Dorian, and before you know it women will start coming after you for the same reason.¡±


    ¡°I really don''t think many women will be all that interested,¡± Dorian said grabbing his gut. ¡°Unless they''re after my secret roll recipe.¡± squeezing the sides of his gut, he bobbed it once.


    Kurt''s laughter was infectious, and they spent the next bit of the walk home making jibes, jabs, and crude jokes. Finally sobering, Dorian inquired about the rest of the practice. His head had cleared a bit by then, not that his head was foggy before, just that there was a noticeable lack of forethought.


    Kurt darkened a little but still replied. ¡°Wasn''t bad, did some live sparring, and we had to move some people around to make up for the new vacancies. Everyone in the center row, except myself, moved up a rank. Bo was behind me.¡± At the mention of the name, Dorian got suddenly heated. He was angry about the assault but didn''t know what he could do about it. Seeing Dorian get quiet, Kurt said, ¡°How did you like your training partner?¡± He grinned sheepishly at Dorian.


    ¡°You know, a little warning would go a long way.¡±


    ¡°It''s not my fault you have a little crush,¡± Kurt replied teasingly.¡±


    ¡°I never said that I just wanted to know if I was the only Priorius not caught by the priest.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Kurt asked.


    ¡°Turns out, she most definitely was sending. She was sending half the practice, I''m surprised nobody else noticed, I heard it all clear as day.¡±


    Kurt just made a ¡°hmm¡± noise, ¡°suppose it''s not safe around her then. Her lack of subtlety could get you caught.¡± Frowning for a moment, he sighed and said, ¡°I guess I''ll have to leave Diana then. Too bad, she makes pretty good company.¡±Inquisitive, Dorian asked, ¡°Why would you have to leave her?¡±


    Raising an eyebrow, Kurt said, ¡°Don''t you know? She''s Quena''s sister.¡±


    Coming to a stop, and mouth agape, Dorian asked, ¡°That''s not why you''re... uh... well you know. Courting her?¡±


    Kurt laughed, ¡°I love you little brother, but I won¡¯t lie to you. Of course not, I''m a bit shallow, but not so depraved as to seduce somebody on your behalf.¡±


    Dorian sighed in relief. That would have made him feel guilty for weeks if it were the case. Kurt lifted his finger and said, ¡°but I guess it''s one of her many benefits. Speaking of, did you get the stuff?¡±


    Dorian nodded, then tapped his cast. ¡°Folded it over the line cast, that''s why I was so thirsty.¡±


    Kurt tapped the side of his head, ¡°nice thinking.¡±


    ¡°How did you get the key away from her anyways?¡±¡°Ah, little Dorian, it''s not polite to kiss and tell.¡± Kurt said, jocularly.


    ¡°Oh whatever, still nicely done. Think I should try some of this stuff tonight?¡±


    Kurt thought for a moment, then said, ¡°I don''t know. You''re taking some heavy pain medication; I don''t think you should mix the two.¡±


    Disheartened, Dorian started walking again, ¡°you''re probably right.¡±


    Kurt heard the disappointment in Dorian''s voice, and caught up to him, taking out his stone flask. He gave it to Dorian, ¡°I mean, rather you do it while I''m here to watch then you do it alone later.¡±


    Dorian perked up. He poured a bit of water on the edge of his forearm, then waited for it to absorb. The process didn''t take long, and when it was ready he took out the vial.


    Not wanting to be rude and begin pouring some of the powder in the flask, Dorian decided to choke the powder down with water. He uncorked the first, letting some sit beneath his tongue, then repeated the process with the water until he finished it.


    Passing the water flask back to his brother, and then stashing his thrifty vial, he hacked himself half to death. The bitter aftertaste was somehow stuck in the back of his throat. Going a bit frantic, Kurt checked on him. Dorian waved him away and stood tall. Taking a long breath, he drew deep upon the smell of dead leaves and dirt so prominent in fall time, then exhaled slowly.


    Dorian said, ¡°I... I...¡± Dorian began shaking his limbs violently. Kurt''s eyes went wide with alarm.


    ¡°I... can''t believe you''re so gullible.¡± Dorian finished, relaxing.


    Kurt knitted his brows down at Dorian, he just stood smiling, completely innocent.


    ¡°That shit doesn''t work on me, little brother.¡± Kurt said, still scowling. ¡°You got in a bad scrape today; I was kind of worried you''d go all stupid strong on him and tear his arms off. Couldn''t you have done something?¡±


    Dorian shrugged, ¡°I just didn''t think about it at the time. It''s not really my first reaction when a situation comes about, and...¡± he tapered off for a moment. ¡°I don''t know much, but I''d like to find out more. There was this lengthy list of signs to be on the lookout for, and I qualify for a few. What I do know is I''ve got to keep up the guard of sorts, it''s like I''m suppressing something. I know if I don''t focus on it, I can slip out mentally or start hearing things I''d rather not hear.¡± He got distracted for a bit when Kurt asked him about what things, which led to a gossipy conversation Dorian felt guilty about later.


    When they got back to the subject, Kurt asked, ¡°Do you feel anything? Like from the powder?¡±


    Dorian shook his head, ¡°I don''t think so, I do feel more now than I did about a half hour ago.¡± Dorian checked himself for a moment. He mentally let go of his telepathy for a moment. The effect, normally only thirty yards or so, now echoed to him from everywhere in Metan. It was mostly bundles of jargon talk, what his father was cooking, where the Tanners were heading, the hungry creatures throughout the wood, elderly, children, apprentices and masters, it was like they were all yelling their thoughts at him. He pushed it back down to quiet and sighed.


    ¡°Okay, maybe I feel a little something. I think I should wait until the mushroom wears off.¡± He tapered off, hearing something odd in the woods. Kurt heard the noise and dismissed it. Dorian kept the sensitivity to himself, and they conversed about the practices that Dorian will get to attend in the future and the best tactics at gaining ranks. Apparently, only the top 8 from each class can enter the tournament per age group. Kurt continued filling in gaps in Dorian''s knowledge, and Dorian wondered why it was never mentioned before.


    Kurt was babbling on about the best ways to gain ranks, and how challenges aren''t the only way to move up. He also explained how few people were there, considering the festival being just a few days off, many people gave up their spots to train so that others could get a refresher. Dorian pondered on who else would be there the next time he showed up.


    This line of thinking brought him back to what happened earlier that day. Despite being cautious about being a Priorius, something that weighed on his mind regularly, he never considered he could be assaulted like that. He had had run-ins with wild animals in the past, mostly smaller animals, but he had never been the victim of another human''s violent intent. As he thought on it, he had short flashbacks, the sound the cartilage in his nose made when it was beaten in, the blood on Bo''s knuckles as he pulled back to strike again. It was all so raw in his mind, and as the drugs wore thin, he couldn''t keep his head off it. He felt ashamed for getting thrashed so thoroughly, and it happened right in front of the only other Priorius in hiding that he knew about. Reliving the memory, his face started burning at the mockery he knew he would receive. A small sob choked out of him without him realizing it. Suddenly, there was a slight pressure on his shoulder. He heard his brother say, ¡°Don''t worry Dorian. We''ll get that son of a bitch, I swear it.¡±


    Embarrassed again, Dorian waved him away and wiped his wet cheeks. He took a breath and settled himself down. ¡°I know, I know we will. I guess I just didn''t want any of it to happen to begin with.¡± Looking up at the house, and in a way past it, Dorian mused aloud, ¡°but that''s the whole point, isn''t it? I mean, there''s no story without something of note happening, no triumph without loss, no epic without hardship.¡±


    Kurt looked down at his little brother, curious. ¡°Are we trying a new trade?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°All hail, the sage of Metan has come forth. He shall banish your sins with wisdom and banish your bread with his appetite! Behold his gargantuan intelligence which is only matched by his girth!¡±


    Dorian knew that his brother was just jibing at him to cheer him up. ¡°You know, that would have worked if it was remotely funny.¡± Dorian said looking up. He smiled, ¡°Thanks all the same big brother.¡±


    Kurt smirked a quiet smirk and they didn''t speak for the rest of the walk home. Not because of indifference, but because sometimes the company is enough, and words just cheapen something that''s already perfect.

 Chapter 9 - Not Alone

    Of those memories, I hadn''t thought that the history of science was key to understanding how the abnormalities had not yet manifested. We had begun with a diverse stock of genetics, but how were any of us to know how long it would take, how would any of us have known what impact the unveiling would have on our very genome. Life is so boundless in its aptitude to change, adapting in ways the scientists of old could never comprehend.


    The next day was consumed with the departure of most the village. About forty people stayed behind, of which were mostly infirm, elderly, or those caring for either. Dorian''s responsibilities as lone cook was relatively simple, he had to prepare soups and breads, but only every two nights. It was expected that people would be taking anything left over for themselves, which lightened Dorian''s workload significantly.


    His mother¡¯s time was spoken for most days. She had been needing the spare time to coordinate and organize her responsibilities for her upcoming time away from her post.  Master Trapper was a big role for their village, as the entire valley received their furs and leathers from Metan. It not only meant that she needed to plan all contingencies, but that she also had to ensure the continued success of their whole village in the eyes of the rest of the valley. Dorian also overheard his mother say she had to make a new plan to acquire Steelfyre as none of their current endeavors had panned out.


    Dorian suspected that the subject was a sore spot, so he avoided all conversations about it. He didn¡¯t even want to be caught eavesdropping about it. He had noticed that as her pregnancy grew more advanced, so did her fiery temper. It didn''t take much, Dorian knew, so he had prepared himself to walk on eggshells all week long. Luckily, his recent injury seemed to keep him out of her direct sight. He intended to keep it that way.


    Dorian made his way to town to see his father and brother off. His mother had already arrived earlier that day, which made for an odd circumstance. If Dorian had any guess, most of his days over the next week would be relatively free. There were several books he''d been wanting to read at home but had been neglecting. Besides, the town would soon be more vacant than it had been since Dorian could remember. Realizing this rare opportunity, he intended to find a quiet place and figure out what he could do with his abilities. Furthermore, how exactly to keep himself from the priests. Priorius priests.


    Most of his life he had been strictly monitored, he couldn''t really experiment without running the risk of discovery. He experimented a little with telepathy, but only with his brother for fear that others would start to pick up on it and figure him out. Outside of that and the strength that made him sick to his stomach, he wasn''t all-too sure. He wanted to see if he could pick up on that rhythm again, how he had with the Line trees, but didn''t have any bright ideas how to figure it out.


    He avoided the truth of what he was like spoiled milk. Confronting the issue wouldn''t make him a normal kid, it wouldn''t keep his family whole, it wouldn''t keep him safe. So, cowardly as it was, he didn''t like to confront his abilities. That cowardice, however, was a coiled parasite and it was starting to eat at him. He''d noticed how much focus he had to pay to keep things quiet in his mind, or to not rip a door off its hinges when he felt upset. Some emotions seem to tip his mind to applying whatever pressure it was that caused him to use his abilities. Since he had taken the supplement he had stolen, his abilities had become significantly harder to keep a handle on. It was akin to knowing you must vomit but doing everything you can to keep it down, all the while understanding that you''d feel better if you''d just let it go. That''s what his senses were telling him, and for most of the night and that morning he struggled to keep it under control. Now with a distraction, heading to the village square, his mind seemed to relax.


    Upon his arrival, Dorian spotted a surprising crowd. It consisted of more outer residents, hamlets and other small communities. Dorian knew that their homes bordered the inner ring that Metan was primary to. The ¡°inner ring,¡± as only Dorian called it, being the small area within the Wilds where the speed of growth was manageable enough for living. The Wilds had a tendency to grow at an alarming rate, sometimes weeks, sometimes days, and the landscape itself could shift. That¡¯s why mapping it was such a challenge. Despite this, the people would mostly be gathered as the main party passed through. Metan proper was just the start.


    As the procession travelled they would meet with other smaller groups, gathering many more before their arrival in Gwendon. From there, they traveled to the festival grounds, usually held in the arena for acoustic purposes.


    Dorian entered the village square, orienting himself amongst all the strangers. It was odd, that so many people lived nearby, yet Dorian seldom met them.


    ¡°Oh, Dorian!¡± Sang Kurt, strolling up to him. ¡°What''s got you in such a brooding mood?¡±


    ¡°Didn''t sleep well.¡± Dorian replied tersely.


    ¡°Dreaming of Q?¡± Kurt poked Dorian in the side as he said this. Dorian frowned and replied, ¡°no, maybe I shouldn¡¯t have-,¡± he cut off when Diana walked up with Quena in stride. Shit.


    ¡°Wow.¡± Quena said in astonishment, looking at Dorian. ¡°I can''t even believe you''re up after yesterday.¡±


    Diana spoke next, ¡°He was a great patient, Q, so don''t give him a harder time than he''s already had.¡±


    Dorian could hear his brother''s thoughts without reading his mind, and simply gave him a frank look. Don''t do it, Kurt.


    Kurt coughed into his hand, clearing his throat he said, ¡°thank you for taking such good care of him yesterday. We''ve done our best to keep him drugged, but the little bastard keeps getting up.¡±


    Quena chuckled a little at that, while Diana gave a more subtle laugh.


    Quena said, ¡°About that, yesterday.¡± Dorian put a grim look on his face, not wanting to think about it he shook his head. She spoke, regardless. ¡°I came out the gate pretty heavy yesterday, I shouldn''t have, it wasn''t very sporting.¡±


    Realizing that she wasn''t talking about his embarrassing experience, Dorian calmed and shrugged. ¡°No big deal. You''re lightning fast though, Kurt should be on the lookout.¡±


    Quena smiled at him but only with her lips, meanwhile Kurt looked back at him in mock offense, ¡°I''ll have you know, I''m always on the lookout little brother. Speaking of lookouts, I have to take my spot up front, guarding the first wave. Care to join me?¡± He was looking at Diana, and he thrust an arm out for her to take. She did so, and when she did, she beamed which made Kurt glow.


    Quena and Dorian looked at each other, and almost on cue, their eyes rolled. Realizing they had both done the same thing put a smile on Dorian''s face, and he could swear he heard the telepathic equivalent to laughter echoing from Quena. They followed behind their older siblings and pointedly ignored their conversation.


    Feeling nervous, and not sure what to do, Dorian opened his mind ever so slightly. He focused intently on Quena, hoping he could keep his conversation muted. He was worried he might send too hard, having recently taken that supplement made him feel concerned about his control.


    ¡°Suppose we can talk now? Err, think now? Should be private enough.¡±


    Quena looked up, shocked at first but calmed quickly. ¡°Might as well.¡±


    Now that Dorian had her attention, he didn''t know what to say. ¡°How long have you known?¡±


    ¡°Since I was born, I remember all of it.¡± There was a sad undertone to the statement, like it was regretful. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°The same.¡± Dorian replied. Feeling jovial, he said, ¡°Do you know why it''s so much better to be born a girl?¡± She frowned, so Dorian replied, ¡°when you''re born you don''t have to learn what the word ¡°circumcise¡± means.¡± She snorted, and not mentally.


    ¡°What all can you do?¡± She asked him.


    ¡°Not sure, I can be really strong when I need to, I grew some plants before, but only once, and this. I don''t really have a lot of time to practice, if I''m not being supervised, I''m usually with somebody. I try to keep a low profile after the night the priest made the new refinery.¡± He paused a moment, then said, ¡°I think he can sense us, I know I could sense him.¡±


    That caught her off guard for a moment. ¡°How much do you remember, from before?¡±


    Dorian furrowed his brow, ¡°before?¡±


    ¡°The life you had before, do you remember any of it?¡± She asked.


    Dorian had no clue what she was talking about, so he shook his head. Her mental voice spoke, and as she did images began to play through Dorian''s mind. ¡°I remember before, not all of it, but little pieces here and there. I remember the sea, and unending plains that just seem to roll on and on. I remember not living in this valley.¡± Dorian never thought about it, he was usually too worried he''d mess up and ruin his family. Instead of sending this, he asked, ¡°How do you remember before?¡±


    ¡°I don''t know.¡± She scowled, ¡°So you don''t remember?¡±


    ¡°I''ve had some random memories, or pick up skills entirely too quickly, but nothing like what you''ve described.¡± This left Dorian with little to say. ¡°Well, I wanted to tell you to keep a low profile, and I can''t stress this enough, stay away from the priest.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow at that. Dorian focused on his sending, keeping it tight, he funneled his memories of the announcement night to her. The images of the Priest ran through him, his glowing green eyes, his expression, and the tinge of madness that emanated with the sense of his overwhelming power. She took a deep breath, then shaking shot a look at him. She paused for a moment, looking Dorian up and down, then nodded slowly without any further comment.


    Did that really work?


    The two older siblings continued their walk to the front of the march. The two younger siblings, following behind like lost pups, found a mutual quiet. Plodding along, they passed by the smithy. Despite most of the resident tradesman having packed up for the journey, Bo was still there working on something. Judging by the fresh black eye, and the awful expression he wore, he was doing drudge work. He looked up and caught Dorian looking. He let his eyes wander away, though they did want to linger. The violent act from the day before was resonating in his head, and now that he thought about it, his arm hardly hurt. It was starting to itch though, and Dorian knew it would drive him crazy before the cast came off. Self-control was a problem he had, and much like his problems with overeating, he knew he would itch himself raw.


    He was just being self conscious, the older boy had beaten him soundly and he was pretty embarrassed about it. He wanted to simply think on it and deal with it, but was worried he''d have a break down if he did. Not wanting to make a scene at home, and especially not out in public, he bottled up his humiliation and trudged onward.


    Finally approaching the front of the line, Dorian spotted his father. Kurt was too enamored with Diana and he didn''t think his company was desired by Quena any more than necessary. So, he made his way towards his father, but sent a mental message to both Kurt and Quena, ¡°be safe.¡±


    Part of Dorian knew that he walked away abruptly because he didn''t want to interrupt his brother, and didn''t feel too much warmth coming off of his fellow Priorius, but most importantly, he was bashful. Interrupting Kurt and his interested party wouldn''t be appreciated, and he felt like he mostly bothered Quena, both of which made him feel like a pest. At that moment, head foggy, and face aching, he simply didn''t want the added attention.


    He plodded over to his father, noticing the large man¡¯s new Line staff he felt a bit jealous. Dorian''s staff had some of the alterations, but the thing his father bore was a regular work of art. Thin lines had been burnt into the stave, incredibly intricate swirls and crosses were placed for support when converting it into a long bow. It had to be seven feet tall, with a sharp obsidian stone wedged in the top, it looked like he was ready to take on a bear.


    ¡°Dorian!¡± His father hollered from a distance as Dorian approached. ¡°Good to see you moving.¡± He smiled down on his son. ¡°Lets have a see at ya.¡±


    Rand took his son by the chin, moving his face back and forth. He pressed his thumb to a few spots, one of which made Dorian wince in pain. Satisfied, Rand said ¡°He got ya good, but give it a few years my boy. That quill-necked piece of waste will have to crane his neck to look at you, and he''ll regret having ever laid a hand on you.¡± He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees. He spoke conspiratorially, ¡°Just between us, I had a word with his father. That boy wont dare come around while we''re gone. If he does, I left the cookery shed open.¡± He winked, then stood to check the position of the sun.


    Putting a hand on Dorian''s shoulder, Rand said, ¡°Take care of yourself and your mother. She''s an awful cook, and she''s starting to get picky about her foods. If she hasn''t come by the cookery by five, I''d like you to bring a meal over to her.¡± Dorian sighed, but his father wasn''t having it. ¡°She''s got a lot on her mind right now, a hot plate of food can do wonders for people too busy to remember their appetite. Be a good lad now, go find some trouble.¡± He smiled, turned, then shouted ¡°First wave to Gwendon! Departure in five!¡± He left to speak to a few others that Dorian recognized from yesterday''s stave practice.


    Watching his father go, he looked back over to his brother, to find him missing. Diana and Quena were gone too, and for the first real time in his life, he knew he was on his own. At first, he got a thrill from the thought, but as he made his way towards the cookery, he couldn''t hold down an increasing sense of dread. He had never been this alone, he knew his mother would be there most every night, but outside of his commitments to cook for a few days, he had roughly a week to himself.


    Making his way, he saw most of the villagers getting their packs together, some going as far as to haul carts by hand. He saw one family, Shoemakers he thought, hooking their patriarch to the front of a cart. He was a grizzled man, gray bearded, and had a healthy weight to him. He looked oddly excited, as though he had been looking forward to marching a cart nearly three days north. Seeing this, Dorian inspected his boots, wondering if it was time to get a new pair or not.


    Under the looming shadow of the old smithy, Dorian''s brief lapse into distraction nearly spelled disaster. An unexpected shout from the archway, harsh and demanding, shattered the illusion of safety, jerking him back to the harsh reality of his predicament. It was then, in the periphery of his vision, that he spotted Bo¡ªa figure emanating pure rage and intent. Bo''s presence was like a dark cloud, his steps measured and full of purpose, a predator closing in on his prey.


    Dorian''s mind raced, instincts screaming for escape. He bolted southward, his heart pounding a frenetic rhythm against his chest. The community park loomed ahead, a potential maze of salvation through which he could lose Bo. Yet, every glance back revealed Bo''s unwavering pursuit, the distance between them shrinking with every stride. Dorian''s feet barely kept up with his desperation, his breaths coming in sharp gasps as he navigated the throng of families and vendors, their oblivion to his plight amplifying his isolation.


    The park''s expanse offered a fleeting hope, a green canvas on which Dorian could paint his escape. His decision was swift, propelled by the raw instinct to survive¡ªstraight across, where openness promised freedom yet exposed him to Bo''s relentless chase. He hurdled over benches with a grace born of sheer necessity, the adrenaline surging through his veins masking the pain of his recent injuries. Each leap, each landing was a testament to his will to evade capture, even as Bo''s scornful laughter¡ª"Go ahead and run, you tub of lard! I''m in no rush!"¡ªechoed across the distance.


    The stark realization that he was alone in this chase, Bo''s singular focus, sent a chill down Dorian''s spine. The park, once a place of leisure and laughter, had transformed into a stage for a macabre dance of fear. Dorian''s flight took him beyond the park''s deceptive sanctuary, the cookery his next beacon of hope. Yet, the reality of his solitude struck hard as he found the door locked, the safety he sought just beyond reach. Desperation clawed at his insides, a momentary despair threatening to engulf him.


    Forced to retreat to the stairs, Dorian''s racing heart began to slow, the adrenaline fading to leave behind the dull throb of his injuries and the reality of his situation. It was only then, in the shadow of defeat, a memory emerged through the fog of fear¡ªhis father''s words, the shed left unlocked. With tentative steps, Dorian approached the haven, every creak of the door amplifying the tumult of emotions within him. Inside, the darkness enveloped him, a temporary shroud from the world outside. Leaning against the door, Dorian allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, tears mingling with sweat. He could taste salt, which swelled his shame to no end. Alone in the dark, light breaking its way through the cracks in the old shed, he wept.


    After some time had passed, he stood. The shed wasn''t entirely dark, a few windows on each side were installed and the sunlight that beamed through was more than enough to see by. He started inspecting the tools and equipment, each of which had been meticulously organized. Etched into the stone wall were labels for each item, but the rest of the small room was smooth to a polish. He noted the axes, hedge trimmers, various shovels, and a few other miscellaneous tools, until he came to a work bench of sorts. On it were some wood shavings, his staff and a folded piece of paper. He picked it up and a set of keys fell out, which he deftly grabbed out of the air. Hanging on to them, he moved over to where the light was a touch brighter, then read.


    ¡°Dorian,


    I forgot to hand you over the spare set of keys before morning came. You''re more than old enough now, so I''ve decided to let you keep these keys permanently. This is a responsibility that few are trusted with, so make sure to keep them safe. You''ll be expected to cook every other day while were gone, but I had several meals prepared in advance. Just get them warm and put them out, the people left in the village all know what to do. Lock up the kitchen every time you plan on leaving.


    I know that boy gave you a pretty rough thrashing. It happens, just don''t let it get into your head. I spoke with his father, and from what I understood, he''ll be getting plenty of punishment over the ordeal. Do your best to avoid him, his father has never been stable, more than likely the apple didn''t fall far. I''ve taken the liberty of preparing your line staff with a few additions. I''ve applied a paste to the sides that needs to be fired. Make sure it''s on the ground before you shoot any sparks at it, the paste is made with Gwam dust and will burn hotter than you might realize.


    Don''t tell your mother this next part, she''ll have my head if you do. In fact, burn this note after you''ve finished reading it. If any of those skinny bastards give you trouble and you can''t avoid it, then confront them directly. Any time you deal with an enemy, the best place for you to be is the place you''re least expected to be. Bullies always back down, and if you can beat him at his strongest point, he won¡¯t have the testicles to try again. Once again, don''t tell your mother.


    Be safe,


    Da¡±


    Dorian chuckled a little bit, then went to inspect his line staff. It was covered in the paste his father mentioned, much in the same way his father had done his own. Looking around, he found some flint and took his line staff outside. He placed it down over a burn pile they used for garbage, then went back into the shed to find some metal to strike against his flint. He found a few scrap metal chunks next to where he found the flint to begin with, slapping his forehead and saying ¡°duh¡± aloud.


    He went out to ignite the paste on his stave, rather excited for the upgrade. It took him a few tries, but once he had the trick of getting the flint to spark, he lined up and shot the sparks out onto the paste. It ignited almost immediately, and Dorian had to shield his eyes from the white light the burning paste put off. He squinted at his staff as he stepped away, not wanting to get burned.


    The light followed the paths of the paste in a mesmerizing fashion. Captivated, Dorian watched as the bright light danced around the staff in swirls and circles. When the light finally cut off, Dorian was impressed. He mused whether his father had intended him to enjoy the light show, which he emphatically did.


    Dorian used his new set of keys to go inside the back door of the cookery. He rummaged about for some oil then, assuming the staff had cooled by then, picked it up to coat it and wash it. It looked good, and he inspected it thoroughly.


    The bottom of his staff had no point on it, instead a circle had been burned around the bottom of the base and instead of a point it had a kind of bulb. He brought it to the back of the cookery and went to the sink. He was grateful for the wonder of working water, his house had the same feature of a well that had been somehow pressurized to push the water upwards, something he wondered about but not enough to compel him to research it further. He opened the valve to get some fresh water, it usually took a moment, so he left to find a rag. When he returned the water was running freely, and he whetted his rag to get to cleaning his new and improved stave. Nearly done, he wanted to get rid of the ugly bulb at the bottom, so he soaked it in the water before it made its way down the drain. Once it had been aptly soaked, he moved to get rid of the ugly thing.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Grabbing the soft bulb, he found there was something hardened inside the thing. Squeezing at the bulb pushed out a blackened and charred point. Ah, that made sense, the bulb was a way to remove the point in case you wanted to avoid stabbing somebody to death, very clever. Realizing the bulb had a purpose, he reshaped it but made it a bit less bulbous, functionality aside the bulb made it look outright ugly and it offended some sense of aesthetic that Dorian couldn''t abide.


    After he had finished up, he cleaned up the watery mess he had made. While he did so he thought at what he could do with his free time. He mused as to whether he should just ambush Bo and eliminate the problem before it could fester but decided against it. Not because it was immoral or cowardly, but because he knew he wouldn''t have anybody to save his ass if the teenage menace lost his temper again.


    Sighing over the issue, he decided to let it go. There wasn''t any sense in tormenting himself over it, and every time he thought of the boy, he couldn''t help but have small but violent flashbacks. The image of Bo''s bloody fist coming down seemed to echo through his head, and it made him feel lowly. Furthermore, it had happened only the day before, and he knew he wouldn''t feel any better about it any time soon.


    He finished cleaning up, and placed the rag in a woven basket that was usually brimming with aprons. Dorian found his staff and left, locking the back door behind himself. Not sure where to go, he figured he could go bother his mother. It was roughly noon already, and most of the processions had already left. From a distance Dorian could make out a few groups of people through the various trees that decorated the village, but they couldn¡¯t have numbered more than twenty.


    He started his trip to the trapper''s house, when he realized that it would take him right past the smithy. Not wanting to bother with all the stress that could entail, he decided he could go exploring instead. He knew most of the wilds behind his home, but anywhere past roughly a mile and he would be in new territory. Figuring he could either do that or sit around the house reading, home was his next destination.


    On the walk home, Dorian¡¯s mind wandered. It wasn''t a long walk, but on the trip home he managed to run through what happened to him yesterday several times, then managed to set his thoughts on how lonely it would be for the next several days. He sincerely wished he wasn''t a Priorius, because if he wasn''t he would have likely found other friends than his brother. He could spend time with them, they could spar with their staves or go exploring, or anything really. But being what he was always made him feel like an outsider, and the knowledge of hurting his family by admitting it left him with a continual burden. The secret had a weight to it, and sometimes he just wanted to be done with it and leave.


    The thought had crossed his mind before, but what had Quena mentioned earlier? Life outside the Valley? It was all wastes, as far as Dorian knew, with the one exception of the destination left for Priorius when they ascended. Still, she remembered? Was it like the other washing memories that would lapse over himself? Or was it from something different? She obviously wasn''t afraid of using her abilities, and likely hadn''t clamped down on them like Dorian had. Was it something to that effect, using it more often woke the memories? Would there be memories of life outside the valley, or would they be a reiteration of the life he''d led so far? If there were memories from outside the valley, what would they be like?


    While lost in thought, Dorian, with the grace of a dancer, stubbed his toe on a protruding rock, which caused him to stumble forward. Trying to regain his balance, he took two heavy steps, and completed the motion by landing on his hands. Doing this without thinking, the pressure from inside his cast went from dull ache to violent agony. Dorian turned to his side, clutching his broken arm, and wincing until the pain subsided. Getting up, Dorian poked around until he located his lost staff, which had somehow landed off the edge of the path.


    Bending down to pick up his staff, and chiding himself for not balancing with it, he spotted some movement in a nearby shrub. Dorian got his staff, then poked around the shrub, curious as to what had been there. Not finding anything, he continued his trek back to his house.


    The front door had apparently been locked, something he couldn''t remember doing. Frustrated, he went to his window that wasn''t entirely too far from the ground. Shimmying between a tree and the wall of his house, he managed to get up high enough to open the window. He knew he should lock it, but who ever came out there anyways? He managed to climb most the way through the window, but had to stop midway to raise it a few inches as he was apparently too round to make it through.


    Sighing out of frustration, and a little disappointment, Dorian managed to get the rest of the way through the window. He closed it, then started rummaging around for his pack and leather pant covers. In the process he found an unused journal his mother gave him a few years ago. Oh what the hell, he thought, and packed it with a few other simple supplies. A small knife, flint he had forgotten to put back, Gwam sticks, and a thin woolen coat just in case it started to get cold.


    Having a sudden inspiration, he recalled the place where Kurt and he had planted the line trees and figured it wouldn''t be hard to plant an entire harvest of them. Additionally, that spot was relatively beautiful, and figured he could relax a bit there, possibly try to grow the line trees like he had last time.


    Excited at the prospect of having something to do, he made his way to the kitchen to pack some food and grab a bite before he left. He found some goat cheese and smoked sausages that were questionably close to expiring. Well, they''ll expire even sooner now, he thought before eating three of them and storing three more with his cheese. He kept them wrapped in cloth, then placed the cloth inside a small woven bag which he attached to his hip. Storing away his food, he found an empty water skin and filled it, then drank his fill of water. Refreshed, fed, and excited to be doing something on his own terms, Dorian left the house leaving the front door unlocked.


    Taking his time, Dorian trekked the same way he went with his brother, finding the thin animal trail that headed eastward. Since most of the leaves had fallen by then, the tree line looked outright menacing. Like a story of evil things that come out of the woods at night, the shadows cast by the dead-looking trees danced in his peripheral vision, which had him spooked at nearly every turn.


    Thankfully, most of the brambles had since died, and if any managed to get caught on him he hadn''t noticed. The brush pants his brother had given him were exceptional, and he noted to himself to one day return the favor.


    The trail, though giving him the creeps, did give him enough issues to keep his mind relatively occupied. Despite the challenging trail, whenever his mind wandered, it wandered back to the flashes of a lean body striking down, and the humiliation associated to the visage. He wasn''t really bothered by the outcome of the situation, it was the fact that it happened at all that was most unsettling. He had never been anyone''s target before, with exception to the pranks his brother played on him and even those were just harmless fun. This was different, somebody had the direct intention of causing him harm, and Dorian really didn''t understand why. Yes, he had insulted the ugly bastard, but that wasn''t any excuse for the viciousness of Bo''s retribution. Now, however, he was still obviously upset with Dorian, probably for being punished for his own actions, something Dorian had no fault in. The more he thought about it, the more he felt both victimized and outraged.


    The storm cloud of his thoughts distracted him for a time, the process of which altered his mood significantly. Lost in his own head, he nearly walked right past the spot he had come for. The boulder had roughly half the trees harvested from around it, and several that had ax marks at the base. It was at that moment that he realized he hadn''t grabbed a hatchet before leaving his house.


    ¡°Oh, gods damn it!¡± he shouted and kicked the closest object to him, an old and decayed stump.


    The stump exploded in a spray of rotten wood and black earth, uncovering a excessive amount of insect life from beneath. He heard his echo shout back just as the dirt showered across the dry leaves, sounding almost like rainfall. Frustrated after stewing on his new and only enemy, Dorian decided he should just take a seat and calm himself.


    Feeling a bit chilly, he figured he could make a small fire. He found the location of his last fire there and gathered the dead leaves surrounding it to the center. He found a few sticks that seemed to be dry enough and stacked them in a stout little structure over the top of the leaves. Brandishing his flint and his knife, he shot sparks at the leaves until enough caught to blow on.


    Fire up and warm, he sat back and enjoyed it. There was something comforting about a fire, something inexplicable. He could catalog the emotions he attached to it, but despite a fire raising so many comforting and entrancing feelings, he realized that no number of words could ever truly capture what a fire invoked in a person. I wonder if I could make my own word for it, but what? Fireplace is already taken, though it doesn''t imply viewing a fire. What I need is something more specific to the condition it elicits.


    Dorian watched the flames lick and whip upwards, scratching and flailing at the sky in a beautiful yet chaotic dance. In an odd sense, he could understand the fire, could commiserate. It simply does, it is, and in a predetermined fashion, it moved through the lifetime of its existence. It ebbed and flowed, and even though one could expect the flames to lap upwards, that person could never know the exactness of its motions, just that it would.


    Lost in his thoughts once more, Dorian sensed the fire the same way he knew the way to his bed in the dark. Stretching his hands outward to warm them, he accepted the fire, and to his surprise it streaked to his hands.


    Jumping up, Dorian tried to whip his hands away from himself, the same way he would if his hands were wet. The flames shot out briefly but went out quickly. Panicked, he inspected his hands, only to discover he wasn''t burnt. Grinning like a fool, he reached one hand out and accepted the fire. It tentatively flowed to his hand, engulfing it. Having a sense of remembrance,  he commanded the fire out. It shot out in a heavy stream of heat for a few moments. Recalling his conversation with his brother, that everything had a cost, Dorian let the fire go. When he did, the flames that were in the air did something odd, it redirected its course and instead of going out, fell back to the campfire.


    Dorian waited a moment and noted that he felt very hungry all of a sudden. Unlike the usual healthy appetite he had, he was now ravenous. Reaching for his pack, he found his stash of food and devoured all but one sausage and a bit of rind. His head clearing from the fog of hunger, he put the last sausage away deciding that he might need it later. Accidentally playing with fire had reminded him to experiment with his abilities, wondering if perhaps his lack of experimentation is why Quena had remembered a supposed past life.


    Okay Dorian, you''ve got a feel on the strongman routine, as well as the creepy ability to sift through peoples thoughts, start there.


    Focusing in on his sense of self, he opened to his telepathy as broadly as he could. It felt like entertaining the idea that you and everything else around you are one and the same. He could mentally hear the wildlife that surrounded him, creatures getting ready for the cold winter, finding safe and warm places to weather the next several months. Some creatures were already sleeping, a dazed like feeling where consciousness ebbed and flowed for unknowing bouts of time. Another had a sense of hunger, and excitement. Focusing over to where it was, another creature was experiencing fear and pain. The second creature was odd, however. Most creatures have an overwhelming fear of their own deaths. There was always a sense of urgency emitted by those creatures, an undertone of motivation, giving those animals a reason to be, Dorian supposed. Thoughts didn''t always come in the form of language either, most of the time it was just a base feeling. Animals lacked a certain level of sophistication as well, where Dorian might feel brooding or contemplative, an animal might be upset or curious. Most animals were very simplified with exception to this creature. Whatever it was, it didn''t just have a sense of urgency over death, it was an elaborate system of concerns and worries. Intrigued, Dorian picked up his line staff and locked on to the creature.


    Coming up over a small rise in the terrain, Dorian spotted his target. There was a large rodent nipping at the back of another creature possibly the same size. Dorian headed down the hill as quickly as he could, noting the direction the creature was moving. Finally finding a trail through the brush, he rushed over and shouted at the rodent, hoping to distract the creature. It didn''t work, and he still had roughly twenty yards of trees interspersed with brush to get over to the damn critters.


    Using his staff to navigate through, Dorian went in. He was nearly there when he caught a whiff of some awful. It was akin to rotten eggs, old people, and a festering wound. He choked a bit, the smell being downright awful but steeled himself and made his way over.


    The attacking creature was larger than expected, it looked like an opossum but was almost as large as a Kressian herd wolf or shepherd. Dorian shouted again, and shot out with his staff, striking the ground next to the creature. That got its attention.


    The thing screeched and hissed at Dorian, and he retracted, putting his staff up in defense. Most rodents, even large ones, will usually duck out if they feel outmatched, so Dorian was told by his brother. He was having his doubts about that when the gods damned thing reared itself up, all of its hair standing upright. It lunged, jumping through the air at him. He planted his staff and levered the creature away from himself. He followed through, stepping forward and pulling the staff up in the process. He whipped it upward and sounded a ¡°whoop¡± as he came down with all his weight behind the staff. The creature, just beginning to look up, was smashed in the head. Instead of hesitating, Dorian withdrew, and like his father had taught him, thrust his stave like a spear at the front leg of the rodent. Not having realized he had begun drawing on his reserve of strength, Dorian was shocked as the creature''s leg gave an audible snap. It yipped and began to scurry away, and Dorian swatted at the ground behind the vulturous bastard, making sure it was scared off for good.


    Never trust rodents, rule one of ¡°Dorian''s Hand-Held Guide to the Wilds.¡± He snickered at the thought, mostly because he had learned a fair deal about rodents, and other wildlife, from a book called ¡°Rex''s Wild Hind Book.¡± According to Rex, short for Rextharmius, rodents are more persistent than you''d ever suspect, you should deal with them quickly and harshly. Dorian took the advice to heart and was doubly glad his parents weren''t as cruel as Rex''s.


    Watching the animal run away, Dorian felt oddly good. Not because he hurt a wild animal, that would make him as bad as Bo, but because he defended something else. It felt kind of rewarding in its own right. Curious, Dorian searched about for the other wounded animal. He mentally searched for the creature that was now emitting fear and unknowing. It hadn¡¯t gotten too far, it was moving slowly. He caught up with the furry creature, it was striped with lines of black on its back and was gray on the underside.


    ¡°Hey buddy.¡± Dorian said aloud in a high-pitched voice. He also sent the message through his thoughts, trying to express an earnest sympathy for the creature. The creature perked up a bit, turning its head, two small antennae bobbed outwards. It slithered a semicircle to face him.


    ¡°Yeah, that''s right.¡± He sent calm through his mind, emitting it outwards. It was so odd, it felt like he''d done this before. An almost jarring sense of d¨¦ja-vu ran through him. Quickly coming to his senses, he lowered his pack and reached in for the remaining food. He grabbed the cheese rinds, and mentally sent ¡°Hungry?¡±


    The creature made an odd noise at that, it sounded like the rolling ¡°r¡±s that others put on when they were imitating a Gwendian accent. ¡°Ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh¡± it called at Dorian. Raising an eyebrow he tossed a few pieces out in front of the thing. It crawled over and began making a strange humming noise as it ate. It wasn''t the other noise, this noise had an echo of its own, like the sound was resonating in Dorian''s own chest.


    It finished eating, then raised its head. Finally getting a look at it clearly, it had a feline-like quality to its face, it had eyes but they were entirely too human-like in their gaze. It was a little unsettling, doubly so when the creature growled at him. What the hell did I do?


    Absent minded, he tossed the last of the cheese rinds out of his hand to grab hold of his weapon. The creature just went back to the noise it was making before and sniffed about until it found its prize.


    What the fuck is this thing''s problem? It¡¯s not a very grateful creature. Its eyes came up at him then and gave him a look.


    Kressor¡¯s charred ass, that is creepy. The creature just went back to the first noise, ¡°ruh-ruh-ruh¡± it sounded, which gave Dorian the clue he needed.


    ¡°You''re a Garru!¡± He said excitedly. The thing got happy at the sound of this. It kept doing it''s throaty chirp, but in a higher pitch. Thinking it was pretty neat, he reached in and got his last sausage. Feeling a little selfish, he broke it in half and ate one and held the other outwards as he chewed. The damn thing leaped at his hand. Frozen for a moment, the thing curled around his arm, winding its way over his cast so its head rested on Dorian''s outstretched palm. It nibbled once at the sausage, then somehow swallowed it whole. It emitted the second noise again, since he was so close he could feel it more clearly. It reminded him of how he felt the rhythm of the line trees he had grown. Looking at the adorable thing, it looked at him for a moment, belched, and made a ¡°harumph¡± noise just before it nuzzled against his wrist.


    Not sure what to do, he pet it a few times, slowly relaxing from all the excitement. The cat like creature somehow sent him a mental message, which translated roughly to ¡°sleep time.¡±


    Oh no you don''t.


    Dorian tried to gently remove the Garru from his arm, but the thing just hissed and sent a more firm ¡°Sleep. Time.¡± Dumbfounded, Dorian had no clue what to do. He thought on it for a moment and decided to make his way back to his fire. If anything, he shouldn''t leave it burning in the middle of a dry autumn.


    The furry little parasite was sound asleep as Dorian arrived back at his fire. Oddly, his arm didn''t feel any heavier despite his stowaway. He considered gathering some more wood as the fire was quite dim. Finally, he decided to stoke the fire a bit more and return to figuring out what a Priorius could do, failing that it was a nice day to just sit by a fire. Barring giant rodents, the natural environment was incredibly relaxing, and the utter quiet surrounding him ushered his thoughts to calm.


    He dozed off for a time, not caring about the world around him. It was in the midst of this serenity that he thought he heard a whisper on the wind. Not sure if he was dreaming or awake, he honed his attention on that whisper, and when he did, a flashback played through his mind.


    An old woman, sitting in a chair, a slate chalkboard behind her. She wore something kindred to a robe, but more form fitting. She had darker skin, like a deep summer tan. She spoke with an age old wisdom that denoted kindness and acceptance. ¡°Bear the shape of your soul. It¡¯s the first step to everything else you can attain, until you do the rest lacks reason. I shall begin.¡± She held her palm out, and slowly, a blackness crawled out of her hand. It came together in a globular mass, then began forming itself into a series of stacked circles. The circles split off the side, like the slices off a cake, and reformed, becoming a series of intricate lattices to a miniature tower, then reformed again into a kind of mallet. Then, looking closely as the Woman grasped the mallet, he noticed how it was just a warped version of the original shape. ¡°All vessels, and Priorius, have an innate shape, one intrinsic to the vibrations of one''s own soul. That shape may be parceled, or divided, split, warped, stretched, or twisted in any number of ways, but the course Shade takes is always relative to the shape of one''s own. Thus, our first step is to present it.¡±


    Coming back to himself, he shook his head trying to clear it. He attempted to do as she had. He raised his left hand outward. Now what, genius?


    He concentrated on summoning a shape, any shape. Nothing happened. He focused on the thought, shutting his eyes, and still felt nothing.


    Frustrated, but undaunted Dorian continued trying to do what the old lady did for a solid half hour. Try as he might, he just couldn''t figure it out.


    Dorian stopped feeding the fire after he had first gotten back, and decided to let it dwindle, figuring that by the time it went out he should just give up and go home. It was down to embers at this point, and his frustration mounted as he realized he had been wasting his time. Oddly, however, he could still feel life behind the pile of ash. Reaching out to it, he tried to pull on it again, like he had before. Nothing happened with the fire either. Feeling concerned, he opened his mind to receive, but nothing came of it.


    Finally giving up, figuring he had simply run his course for the day, he pushed some soil over the deadened fire. Frustrated or not, he wouldn''t be the reason that half the wilds burned down. Gathering his line staff and feeling defeated, Dorian retrieved his pack and started trudging along. After taking a few strides, however, the Garru that had taken up residence finally perked up. It craned its neck to stare at him with those all too human eyes. Thinking he was having a moment, a commune with nature, Dorian had a strange sense of serenity. That is, until the little bastard started to make a hacking noise. It shook a bit, moving up what he could only assume to be a hair ball.


    It hacked out a blackened mass all over Dorian''s palm. ¡°Disgusting.¡± He said aloud, scowling at the creature. The creature looked up at him, and though Dorian couldn''t hear it mentally, he assumed the Garru was thinking something along the lines of, ¡°What?¡± As though what it had done was completely acceptable.


    Feeling disgusted at what the thing had hacked onto his palm, he tried to whip it off his hands, but the stuff was emulsified in place. Dorian put his staff down, tired of playing this game with the animal. That''s when the blackness in his palm moved. Oh, by the gods no.


    The mass squirmed and writhed, shaking as it grew in form. The Garru moved its head to look at it when the blackness part way crawled into the animal¡¯s mouth, then stretched out along his cast. It shimmied down, under the cast, and tightened. Dorian, stunned by what was happening, stumbled and fell on his backside. As his ass hit the ground a loud crack echoed from his cast, then another. Not sure what to do, as he had a relatively wild animal cemented to his arm along with an evil black blob hell bent on destroying his cast, Dorian just winced and held his arm away from himself.


    The black mass had found the point of greatest agony and decided to start climbing in. It felt like a pressure point had been hit, his entire body felt a jarring jolt of pain. He wanted to remove it but the pain was such that he felt like moving would only make it worse. In horror, he watched as the blackness stuck halfway through his arm and halfway in to the Garru''s mouth.


    He felt a faint beat, a rhythm that seemed to echo from the creature. With an odd sense of desire, he matched the rhythm in his mind''s eye. As he felt his pulse quicken to match, he could feel a tone attached to the beat. As best as he was able, which felt strangely natural, he harmonized with the tone.


    Ever so faintly, he could see a bright green light coming out of the Garru''s mouth, coiling and wrapping around the blackness, at the same time another green light flowed from his wounded arm, vine like. The two met, wrapping and coiling around each other, until the two lights became one. A bright flash came then, along with what felt like someone standing on his chest, then the sensation of something crawling around under his skin. As unsettling as it was, it wasn''t painful.


    Wiping his eyes with his free hand and blinking away bright spots, Dorian finally felt like he had a bit of control over his own body. He reached to remove the devilish animal when he realized that his arm wasn''t broken, the feline like creature purring as it bound itself to his arm.


    Confused, and a little disoriented, he spent a moment trying to figure out what had happened. Why isn''t there a ¡°Rex''s Guide¡± for being a Priorius? Well, maybe there was, but it certainly wouldn''t be anywhere in Metan. Sighing, he tried to remove the Garru, but the thing immediately got pissy with him.


    Dorian sighed, frustrated. Giving up for the time being, he went to pick up his staff when he noticed something sitting in the midst of his discarded caste. Bending down, he remembered that he never took the rest of the supplement he had stolen. He picked it up, inspecting the vial for any breaks. Not finding any, he uncorked it after retrieving his water skin. He poured the rest of the contents in, figuring what the hell, why not?


    Dorian discarded the vial and shook his water skin, then took a long drink from it, he was after all, reasonably parched. He felt better immediately, so he took another long drink, corked it, and started his journey home.


    The trip back was relatively uneventful, except he now noticed how much pressure the Garru was putting on his forearm. When he noticed the pressure, however, the thing readjusted itself. How thoughtful of the little furry critter.


    Approaching his house, he came to a sudden understanding. It wouldn''t be a good idea to just waltz in with a wild animal attached to his arm. He tried to send it a message mentally, but his thoughts didn''t resonate the way it should, and he knew something was off with his abilities. Keeping his temper at bay, he told the creature. ¡°You''re a wild animal, my mom will kill me if I try to bring you inside. Do you understand that?¡± The creature just stared at him. Dorian rolled his eyes for a moment, but as he looked back motes of blackness seemed to come out of the creature''s spine. It wrapped all the way around his arm, and the Garru started snaking itself around his forearm. He felt a pinch as a line of the blackness penetrated his arm. With it came a surge of awareness, an understanding. The being attached itself to his memories of the last several days, and with that Dorian became aware of what the Garru had experienced over the same timeframe. Getting harassed by various animals until one had injured it. It hid in a tree for some time, and when it tried to move the giant rodent had begun assaulting it. The vicious thing was taking little bites out of its flesh, but Dorian came and kept it safe. Dorian came and gave it warmth, and food, and safety unbidden.


    The fact that this creature had a concept of altruism spoke of something different, something very human. It wasn''t just a carrion eater, or a predator, or prey even. It didn''t simply have a task that enabled it to survive, fulfilling some niche in the ecosystem. Dorian understood that it was abstract from the rules and laws of the wild, it was sentient.


    As Dorian grew to understand the thing, it grew to understand Dorian. Recognizing his fears, his concerns over being taken from his family, his worry over Bo, and what his mother would think when he walked in without his caste. Recognizing this fear, the blackness surrounding his arm retracted back to the Garru. It emitted a new sound, wrapping tight around his forearm. The fur seemed to fade away, and before Dorian''s eyes, the creature became the exact image of his caste.


    ¡°Whoa.¡± He stated aloud. The cast gave a very subtle purr. Smiling at the innocence of the creature, he asked it, ¡°So what should I call you? I can''t just keep calling you animal or Garru.¡± There wasn''t an audible response, but he received a sense of curiosity from it. ¡°How about... hmm...¡± Dorian thought for a moment, but nothing came to him. Jokingly, he said aloud ¡°Dweeb. Dorian''s dweeb, quite the title.¡±


    Then came a sharp pain from the underside of his arm, the dweeby little bastard bit him! ¡°Okay, Dweeb isn''t proper for you.¡± The pain subsided. ¡°Well, what is proper for you? I''d call you Harry, but judging by your new look it wouldn''t make much sense.¡± He thought for a while, when an odd name rang through his head, Ohm-maer. ¡°Ohmer?¡± Dorian said, and it purred loudly in response.

 Chapter 10 - Catalyst

    Ni on two thousand years ago now, I had begun a project of expansion. In multiple regards, the entire process pleased me. The reservoir itself is massive, much of what the natives call ¡°the Valley¡± was responsible for covering it. Early on, however, much of what had been intended to keep couldn''t contain so much raw force. The reservoir began to crack, and I knew then what I had to do. Find some way to keep it from leaking, any leak at all would redistribute itself throughout the local organics and would inevitably find its way back, but it still gave reason for concern. I have committed too much, paid too high a price to allow it all to slip through my fingers.


    The following week was an exercise in drudgery. When Dorian came home after his misadventure with Ohmer, his mother was shocked at the amount of free time he was going to be allotted. She apparently had too many errands to run, maps to review, and plans to set in motion that she felt she had to give Dorian a few tasks to keep him occupied.


    When he thought cleaning out the rugs, reassembling his old crib, and re-organizing the outrageously oversized shed for the hunters were shitty jobs, he then had to clean the outhouses. Not just the private outhouse at Dorian''s home, oh no, that would have kept the experience a private practice of self-disgust. Instead, the disgusting process had to become one of public concern as he had to clean the hunter''s and the cook''s outhouses as well.


    That''s when Dorian met Hans. Hans was an older man, thin as a rail and works harder than the gods had on creation. He simply didn''t stop, he was bent and twisted, but he just kept going. A lifetime of working the shovel and hoe had left his spine slightly crooked, but despite his warped figure, chewing on his brache, he''d work the entire day away. Brache was a roasted and dried herb that grows easily within the town limits. When chewed, or sucked upon, it would create a stimulant effect.


    Hans offered a bit to him, his hands humongous and scarred, and, figuring what the hell, Dorian chewed on it for a bit. The taste wasn''t the worst thing he''d ever tried, that is until the burning sensation ran from the back of his tongue down to his stomach. His guts reeled, and he almost lost his breakfast. All he could think to do was wash it down with water. Pulling out his water skin he took a good pull, washing the water around his mouth before swallowing.


    ¡°Hey, son? You''re not gonna swallow-¡± Hans cut off before finishing his sentence.


    ¡°What?¡± Dorian replied, stupidly.


    ¡°Oh, you shouldn''t have drank it down boy,¡± he cackled mischievously. ¡°S''pose it''ll make the workday go quicker.¡± He turned as he spoke, and continued cackling, shaking his sunbaked bald head.


    Dorian¡¯s insides burned, not from any literal flames, but from the acrid taste of the brache. It was as if his mouth had become a furnace, stoked by curiosity and a dash of rebellion. For a few exhilarating minutes, he worked with a fervor that surprised him¡ªlike a hummingbird having drank too much tea, darting from task to task.


    But then reality caught up. His lungs protested, wheezing under the strain of this new intensity. And his stomach? Well, it felt like a soggy sponge, soaked by the brackish liquid despite his desperate gulps of water. Everything inside him grumbled in protest, like a choir of disgruntled voices.


    Unable to suppress it any longer, Dorian stumbled toward a nearby tree, dry heaving as if trying to expel the very memory of that ill-advised experiment. Gods, why had he thought this was a good idea?


    That experience set the tone for Dorian''s whole week. He started to look forward to his duties at the cookery, and this day¡¯s meal offered an excuse to get out of privy duty. He forgot the potatoes, or rather his father hadn''t included them, but the meal didn''t have much else to it but some kind of dark meat, a red broth and turnips. It was spiced, and relatively thick, but because it was light on ingredients, everybody filled up on bread. He had to show up the next day to cook fresh bread for the village. He figured thirty loaves would be enough, but it took nearly the same amount of time to cook thirty as it would be to cook sixty. So, assuming that the dirtiest work for most the year would likely be done while most the village was away, since nobody in their right minds should be subjected to such humiliation in front of the general populous, he opted to err on the high side. He cooked eighty loaves. It wouldn''t be a noticeable difference when the tallies were done, he''d just excuse the cost for a lack of a starch in the prepared soup. If anything, Dorian figured, these people deserve a bit more for their contributions. Even if they were brache addicts.


    Ever so often, when he went to get a drink of water or wash up, his caste, Ohmer, would crane his head out, lap up some water, and go back to sleep. He accidentally banged against the little critter once, and to his astonishment it actually made a ¡°clank¡± sound, as though Ohmer was really a caste. He went to touch it, and it was soft. It was so strange, because most the time Dorian didn''t even notice him. Oddly enough however, he felt it when he banged it or touched it. Despite actually being there to begin with, and a bit of water here and there, he really wouldn''t register that the little chameleon was even there. It was incredibly natural, and Dorian liked knowing that he wasn''t alone. Ohmer was a curious thing really. Dorian really didn''t know what to make of it, but ever so often he''d sneak it bits and scraps. The caste would stretch out, then it was all teeth at the end of the line. After Ohmer finished, it would just pull back to its resting position.


    Sometimes he would get an intuition or a small thought that seemed to start from the creature. He thought it was just fanciful thinking, until one time he received a sense that someone was behind him, and when he turned, he wasn''t even shocked at the sight Hans coming back from lunch. He knew it before he turned, knew the exact step Hans was taking. That''s when he began to suspect that his bond to Ohmer was more than just an emotion, there was an intuitive connection.


    At night, when he was alone with the Garru, he found that telepathic communication no longer worked with it. As though Ohmer had become a part of himself, he could bring the beast up to inspect it with a thought, telepathy not required. Typically, It would uncurl itself, and slither around him cheerily. Dorian simply couldn''t resist petting its striped coat until they both slept. When Dorian woke, it would be back to being a caste.


    For the first few days, Dorian was a bit suspicious of the little bugger, but every time he had a poor thought it would chime up in his mind¡¯s eye. Once, he wondered whether or not Ohmer was some kind of parasite, and the level of offense Ohmer felt at the thought was worse than if he had insulted his father''s cooking. Afterwards, in a fit, Ohmer had offered to leave. The feel he had from it was that it would never stay where it wasn''t wanted, but Dorian simply couldn''t part with the gentle animal.


    When Dorian expressed this, he received a mirror thought back. Ohmer ironically saw him the same way, a gentle animal. Though it slightly offended Dorian, he understood it as a gesture of mutual faith. Dorian decided if the creature was just using him for safety, or to some kind of end, it would have left already. From the perspective of most creatures, if it got what it wanted it just moved on, but Ohmer wasn''t so simple or base. He was like a lone puzzle piece, lost in corner or lodged under a rug. He had been left long enough that his puzzle had been tossed away, leaving a single piece behind. Dorian hadn''t felt incomplete before, but having Ohmer with him was like the completion of a puzzle.  The new relationship was a comfort, and responsibility, that he never knew he needed.


    Despite being a quiet companion, he was incredibly versatile. For example, one night while walking to the outhouse, the winds were whipping, and it was quite cold. The winters chill had been drawing closer of late, cold enough at night to see your breath if the wind was up. As Dorian shivered, Ohmer vibrated, and to his surprise Ohmer stretched out from his caste, elongated up his arm and across Dorian''s shoulders. Fur emerged, buffeting the chill and keeping Dorian warm. Ah, my silent sidekick, you''re too good to me.


    Though Dorian couldn''t see it, he could feel Ohmer''s scowl at being called a sidekick.


    Finally, after a week of turmoil and despair, the first groups starting filtering into Metan. Dorian had planned ahead, preparing some hot soups with warm bread. Soups made a great staple, and if he used some of the starchier vegetables, he could get a soup going well enough to fill people up without angering his father too much.


    The procession of people first coming through were all ragged and tired looking. They sort of just popped up as the widened path they hailed from was still sharply cut off by the nearby trees. They had a defeated cast about them, head bowed, and dragging their feet. Their packs weren''t laden with supplies or anything, very little had been brought back at all. A curious thing, most the time the autumn trade in was very lucrative for Metan.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Towering over the rest of those with them, Dorian''s father Rand came limping into town. He was using his stave as a walking stick, one leg obviously bandaged. Not thinking, Dorian ran to his father wanting to know what had happened.


    ¡°Da?!¡± He shouted and he ran up. Lately, Dorian had noticed he had an easier time running. In fact, often he found himself running to something he really didn''t have to run to, but whether it be impatience or a desire to run, he wasn''t sure.


    ¡°Hello, my boy.¡± Rand smiled broadly before grimacing as he stepped towards his son. ¡°Where''s your mother?¡± He came to a rest, putting most his weight on his staff. That poor piece of wood.


    ¡°She''s at the trapper''s house, working on some kind of plan for something or another. I tried not to bother her too much, every time I had she found something awful for me to do.¡± Rand laughed at his son''s words, but abruptly became serious. ¡°Go and fetch her, would ya? I''d make the jaunt over myself, but I twisted my ankle about a day ago. Go on now, we''ve all got much to tell.¡±


    Dorian agreed to get his mother, and then explained that he had prepared some food for the weary travelers. Rand perked up, eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. ¡°You did? And what did you cook then?¡± Dorian explained, and his father made his way over to try some, announcing to everyone on the way about how his ¡°thoughtful son had taken steps to keep everyone fed.¡± Dorian was a little bashful about taking praise. Dorian suspected that his father knew this and was using that knowledge to get Dorian out of there faster. Clever old man.


    Dorian made his way to the trapper¡¯s house, running in little spurts until he felt his lungs burning. It wasn''t that he was in a hurry, he just felt like if he didn''t do something soon, he''d burst. It was odd that he could note this emotion, catalog it to his youth, and still succumb to the emotion regardless. It felt like being swindled or played for a fool. He didn''t like that feeling, it made him want to lash out or throw a tantrum. Maybe the last lonely week had allowed his thoughts to run amok, and this was simply the consequence of not controlling those thoughts. The worst part of brooding was that he never seemed to focus on what had made him happy, always he would dwell on Bo, and whether he''d see him and be forced to make a getaway. Or he would focus on how he had yelled a Quena or think about how he had let go of Kurt while Kurt was risking his own life to save him. It was all just whirling about him, and he hated himself for all the time wasted in regret.


    So caught up in his own thoughts, Dorian hadn''t notice Kurt catching up to him until he was barreled over by him. Kurt laughed a ¡°ha-ha!¡± just before he pounced on his younger brother. They both went down in a tangle of limbs, which swiftly turned to a little wrestling match. It happened often, which led to Dorian developing a kind of turtle technique to wear his brother down.  He would pull in his limbs, to the best of his ability, tuck his chin, and try to lever a wrist or an arm. He never got the arm, the whole point was to simply wear his brother out to the point that he''d give up. This time, however, he never even got to the point of being able to turtle in. He was thrown down, put on his back, and his wrists were pinned in less than three seconds.


    ¡°I yield, I yield, you jerk!¡± Dorian cried, arching away from his brother. Kurt just rolled off and laughed.


    ¡°I''ve been wanting to do that for six days.¡± He announced with a sigh.


    Dorian grimaced as he ran a mental check on Ohmer. He seemed just fine, looking every bit the line wood caste. The form of communication between them had become so intuitive that Dorian had to mentally isolate himself from Ohmer. He asked it if he''d do the honor of pulling a prank on his older brother. This seemed to excite the Garru, and it sent Dorian a sensation that tingled.


    Standing up, grasping his caste tight, Dorian put on an expression of complete horror. ¡°What did you do?!¡± Dorian gave a shout as Kurt looked over at him. Dorian removed his hand and his caste started pulsing. In and out it breathed, expanding and contracting like a lung. He gave a sharp wail, like every time his caste became engorged it hurt.


    Kurt just stared with eyes wide and unblinking. Dorian arched his back, pushing his arm out in front of himself. ¡°Kurt, you''ve done it now. It doesn''t like... surprises.¡± Dorian gasped the words out. He did the best he could to keep the smile off his face as he said, ¡°Oh no, I think... I think it''s hungry.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Kurt''s voice squawked, pitching several octaves higher than Dorian had ever heard.


    That''s when his caste exploded outward, a mass of churning black. Hundreds of elongated teardrops, a shape Dorian was beginning to appreciate, massed and coiled upon themselves. It created the shape of a worm, and the writhing mass created a cyclonic contortion at its front, making the image of a massive gaping mouth.


    Kurt was completely frozen, mouth and eyes open, face a mask of terror and shock. Mouth agape, Kurt just plopped onto his backside, staring so intently he likely hadn''t noticed. This was too much for Dorian, and Ohmer for that matter.  As the mass fell away into the shape of the Garru, Dorian fell to the ground sputtering with laughter. Ohmer writhed about him, taking on his own form and purring his ¡°ru-ru¡± noise. The vibration from the animal was joyous, and somehow the joy was emanating from it.


    Still laughing, he said, ¡°Kurt, I''d like you to meet Ohmer, my silent saboteur.¡± The vibrating paused for a moment, then resumed. ¡°He''s a Garru I met the day you left.¡±


    Kurt was still in shock, his mind trying to grasp the situation, and failing. ¡°That''s not any kind of Garru I''ve ever heard of.¡± Kurt stated in an all too quiet tone.


    ¡°Relax big brother, he''s a friend.¡± Dorian smiled at his brother as Ohmer resumed the shape of a caste. Dorian walked over and offered a hand to his brother. Kurt took it, but reluctantly.


    ¡°That was, uh, that was... wow.¡± Kurt said, keeping quiet. ¡°Glad you didn''t have to spend the whole week alone?¡±


    Dorian smirked, then nodded. ¡°I''m off to get mom, Da told me to go get her. Said there was something important she needed to discuss. Do you know what''s going on? Dad got intense there for a sec, and he seems pensive.¡±


    An expression flashed across Kurt''s face, whether it was consternation or constipation, Dorian wasn''t sure. ¡°Yeah, I think I have an idea of what he wants to talk to her about, but before I tell you about it there''s something you need to know.¡±


    Dorian raised an eyebrow, looked at his brother, then rolled his hand. When Kurt didn''t respond, Dorian said, ¡°I shall allow you to speak, may you never say the great Dorian lacks propriety.¡± He raised his chin, taking a tone of mock supremacy.


    Kurt gave Dorian a bemused look but got serious. ¡°Dorian, I don''t know how to say this, but Quena got caught.¡± Kurt looked away, ¡°I''m sorry Dorian. I know you were holding on to something for her, but she''s gone now. She''s in the monastery, with the other Priorius.¡±


    Dorian''s stomach felt like it was in his knees, and though he didn''t really think he had a real crush on her, she was the only Priorius he had a chance to talk to. Grim as it was, and even though he hated himself for it, he knew his only real loss was in the knowledge he could have gleamed, not so much the relationship he could have built.


    Grimacing, Dorian asked, ¡°How has Diana taken it?¡±


    Kurt gave a small hiss before replying through a frown. ¡°Not well, I''m afraid. We were all together when it happened, she was tagging along as we walked the fairgrounds. Two kids, not much older than I, came out of nowhere. It happened so fast, Diana hadn''t even noticed when I bolted after them. They moved so fast, and Q didn''t even struggle, didn''t even make a sound. When I caught up to them, I grabbed one by the robe to pull him back, but he would barely budge. Instead of falling over he just tilted back. I yelled something like ¡°What the hell do you think you''re doing?¡± After he didn''t respond, I moved to hit him and he blocked me with some black shield.¡± Kurt showed his hand, displaying the damage. Where he had struck the shield his knuckles were bruised and scabbed. After a moment he continued. ¡°They said something about it being an official mandate by the high priest, that her family should just forget about her, that she was being summoned to serve the gods. It all sounded rehearsed, and the worst was that Diana hadn''t even caught up by then. When I finally found her, I had to tell her myself. She blamed me and stormed up to the monastery, I didn''t see her again until we left. When I tried to console her, she rebuked me. She said it was my fault, Dorian, and even if she is just grieving, I can''t help but feel responsible.¡±


    Kurt''s posture was one of defeat, shoulders and back slumped forward, staring off at the ground. Dorian walked up to his much taller brother and put a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°You''re not responsible Kurt, you did more than she did when the time came. Don''t let it get you down, I warned her multiple times to watch herself. For some people, it''s easier to blame others, and for us, it''s easiest to blame ourselves. You don''t need to do that, Kurt.¡±


    Kurt wasn''t really moved, and Dorian knew it would take him some time to get over it all. ¡°Come on, I have to get mom before the rest of the village makes it back.¡± Kurt looked up and nodded.


    They resumed the pace they always had, Dorian taking longer strides to keep up with his brother, just like they had when Dorian was walked home from the caretakers more than four years ago. It was the most normal thing to them, the way they walked away their troubles. Finding that rhythm together always returned their mindsets to one of mischievous nonchalance. In that mindset, they could always work through their problems, in that mindset anything was possible. In due course the worries they seemed to accumulate no longer hindered them. So, they just walked finding their tempo, until Kurt finally drew himself out of his shell.


    They were near the trapper''s house before Kurt finally spoke. ¡°Oh shit, the other thing. I can''t believe I forgot about the other thing.¡± Kurt slapped his forehead and rubbed his eyes. ¡°Dorian, something happened during the Autumnal equinox festival. Kresson didn''t show, there were a lot of rumors going around about them. Some said they got sick with some new disease, others said they were going to refuse trade, but most people said that there was serious unrest in Kresson. Dorian, don''t take my word on it, but I think Kresson is trying to start a rebellion.¡±

 Chapter 11 - Winters Heart

    After decades of experimentation, taking the help I needed from the memories of the cattle. Ascended.  First I tried to manipulate a mole. I made several, crossing it over with the size of a bear. It did help with the initial digging, but eventually they ran counter to my purposes. The problem was one of intelligence, the beasts were simply too stupid to do what was needed in the right place.


    I tried to instill them with a modicum of intelligence, but to no avail. After that disaster, I decided that intelligence was the first requirement. I''m honestly not sure if my sickness drove their creation, or if it was the need, but I took great pleasure watching those disgusting villagers give birth to the monstrosities. The look on those women when they birthed the deformed creatures, the terror they felt for that evening was so savory sweet. It hurt me to end their misery, as sweet as it was to consume it. I ensured they fulfilled their debt to the reservoir, but it would be a lie to say I didn''t enjoy their disgust at their own children. It''s so strange to me that now I''ve found pleasure in all the wonderful varieties of pain. The pain those women felt was a violation to their own maternal instincts, and the guilt they felt for it, Oh! That was better than any meal I had tasted since the first Gwendon bakery had opened.


    Ever since Dorian was a babe, he wondered why the year ended, and began, in the middle of a season. It would only make sense that the spring equinox would be the first of the year, as that was when life began in earnest, but that would only make sense. New years day was considered ¡°the first day of ascension.¡± According to one of the priests, one significantly younger than the elder, it was the day of beginning. It was signaled by the ascension of the north star, considered to be the beginning of the Priorius creation myth. On the first day, after Gwendos and Kressor had co-existed for an eternity in equilibrium, they mutually ¡°allowed¡± time. The entirety of creation itself took three days¡¯ time, but the most important aspect to the priests was time. Time was considered the gift itself, an ebb and flow to life and death, that was the moment of first change.


    The priest said that their reasons were their own and that the divine need no reasons, but Dorian suspected it was out of boredom. Stuck in the same rut for an eternity? That sounded like hell, what better way to break the doldrums of nonexistence than with existence? Regardless, it was after the first year, as time clashed with the eternal, that they found the existence of their third: Metae. Upon realization of the new divinity, a creation of both life and death, that they decided to ¡°allow¡± another year. And so, every year, the north star waits on the decision of the divines, though there''s speculation as to whether Metae got a vote. When the decision had been made, the north star would rise, thus signaling another year, another cycle, another four seasons.


    Of course, every year, the sermon wouldn''t be so direct. It was filled with a whole lot of ¡°art thou''s¡± and generalized ambiguity, but like the year before, the sermon finally ended. Dorian''s first concern, however, wasn''t on the festivities, the gifts to be exchanged, or even the overall merriment made in the village center. No, his first concern was on the food.


    It was the one day each year that his father made a point of eating with everybody else. Cook or not, it was considered ¡°that time of the year¡± according to the master cook, which translated to, put up a good show. So that''s what they did, thus every new year¡¯s celebration was utter chaos.


    What this generally entailed was having a stash of proper cloths to swap into once the cooking had finished, and an incredible crunch on time. It was audacious how much work they had to get done in such a short amount of time, and Dorian had pleaded with his father to skip the yearly sermon. He wasn''t having it as it would greatly displease his mother. So, instead of heading out to share in the festivities, he and his father rushed back to the cookery to prepare the feast.


    His father had been slow cooking most of the poultry and goat starting early that day. Dorian on the other hand had been offered an opportunity to improvise his own bread, though he was worried that he would botch the job and ruin new year¡¯s.  So, after long deliberation, he decided to make something heavier, but wasn''t quite sure how to go about it, that was until he had another flashback.


    This one was of someone in Gwendon. Dorian couldn''t recall her name, but the name of her recipe, ¡°Yule love it¡± bread had stuck in his mind.  What she had made was something sensational, and he was proud to resurrect the recipe from long years past. It had a mixture of walnuts, cinnamon, cranberries, and an inner lining of frosting baked into it. Once the dough had been rolled out, it would be basted with the sweet white frosting and rolled up to make the loaf. Dorian had never heard of a cranberry before, but assumed it was a dried fruit. Since the autumnal equinox, they hadn''t received much of anything produced by Kresson, save for the few goats received last week. Luckily for Dorian, his father Rand had planned ahead and made raisins out of the grapes.  He supposed, and hoped, that any dried fruit would work fine as a replacement. Dorian, and his father, were incredibly pleased with the experimental batch they had cooked that morning, despite the dough not being fully set. Now that it was time, Dorian''s task was to bake enough bread for all six hundred attending members of the Metan community. Other parts of the community met elsewhere, and Dorian took a moment to be grateful that he wasn¡¯t serving all three thousand members of the Wilds.


    There were other cooks there, of course, and his wasn''t going to be the only bread served. He had to work around several other apprentices, and a few master cooks, while they all frantically worked to finish their meals on time. His father was busy making rounds, checking on dishes, and making sure that everything would be released in due course.


    Finally, after hours of running about, he heard the dinner bell ring, which meant that all the apprentices to all the other craft houses would be coming over to carry the food out to the center of the town park.


    One would assume that the middle of the winter wasn''t the time to be eating outdoors, but that person would be sadly mistaken if they lived in Metan. The town park had a very unique property to it, something divine according to the priests. No matter what time of year, the park was always a touch milder. In the summer months the park would be significantly cooler, and in the depths of winter it wouldn''t be any colder than a brisk autumn day, so long as the wind wasn''t up. It was, Dorian thought, a kind of wonder that kept an air of easy unity in the valley. When you can all eat together to the setting sun, or even under the stars, in a comfortable place that still allowed for fresh air, how could you not get along?


    Dorian ran to the wash barrel out back, and with a fresh towel cleaned himself up as much as could be reasonable in a short amount of time. Halfway through dressing his father spotted him, and the look Rand gave him was so intense that he didn''t even voice an argument. He stopped dressing, stripped down to a towel, and, keeping his right arm up for his caste, jumped into the wash barrel. He scrubbed himself quickly but rigorously and was quick to run back inside. Despite the park being warm, and the wash water still hot, it was freezing out. The cold air meeting his wet skin was a jarring experience, and it just added to the reasons why he didn''t like the new year.


    After dressing, and a bit of grooming, he met with the rest of the cooks. His father was at the front talking to another cook when he noticed Dorian. He beckoned his son over, and Dorian trudged up to his father.


    ¡°Dorian, you''re going to do two things for me right now.¡± Rand paused, raising an eyebrow at Dorian. The eyebrow wasn''t raised in a ¡°Do you want to hear what they are¡± kind of way, more of a ¡°I dare you to keep acting like a spoiled snot.¡±


    ¡°Ya, Dad?¡± Dorian replied curtly.


    ¡°Remove that sour attitude,¡± he paused, keeping that stare on Dorian, ¡°and put a smile on your face.¡± He grinned a grin that belonged on a younger man and patted his son on the shoulder.


    ¡°I know it''s tough work, Dorian, but I think I''ll treat you this year. Let me show you why we do what we do. Tonight, you stand at the front of the cooks, next to me. Come along.¡±


    He ushered them along and gestured for the rest of the cooks to follow. This made Dorian a tad guilty as he realized that the rest of the cooks had been waiting on him. He''d have felt worse, but despite being upwind of them, he swore he could smell them. A hard day¡¯s work over hot ovens left anyone sweaty and smelling of body odor.  Dorian was suddenly less resentful over his second wash.


    ¡°Do you know why we celebrate in the depths of winter rather than the end of it?¡± Rand asked.


    ¡°I was just wondering about that, why don''t we do it in spring when everything is coming to life? I know what the priest says and all, but I think it would be more, uh practiclal? Is that the word?¡±


    ¡°Practical, and yes it would be. The real reason, outside of the stars and the gods, I think, is for the people.¡± He paused expectantly.


    Dorian, playing the part, asked ¡°for the people?¡±


    Rand, giving a glare, then a smirk, said ¡°Heh, never thought I''d be the old fool the young have to go along with.¡± He tapered off toward the end then spoke up with new vigor, ¡°Yes, Dorian, for the people. Just think about it, it''s cold, barely any sunlight with the mountains so high around us, people are stuck inside most days and half our trade houses can''t do much but sit and twiddle their thumbs.¡± As he spoke, they passed into the park where the air was significantly warmer.


    ¡°So, what better to keep people happy? They''re halfway through the winter, they''ve been cooped up, bored, and probably downright sick of their families. So, to occupy their time, we make gifts for our loved ones, we cook extra fatty foods to stave off the winter''s chill, and we choose to do good for its own sake, happy to help one another. Mostly, we do this because the winter is a great enough challenge on its own and being unnecessarily asinine to one another is a swift road to self-destruction.¡± They approached the center podium, the stone walkway at the back led up the side where all the master chefs would stand as his father would give his little speech. Then everyone that wasn''t a master cook would stand to the sides in front of the village and bow when the speech was finished as the food was revealed.


    ¡°Come along son, like I said, you''ll be standing with me.¡± That boyish grin was becoming a bit of a nuisance, despite it being covered in a winter''s beard. Dorian began walking up the side and became suddenly nervous as he saw the entire village sitting at their tables. Everyone was dressed up, and off to the side of each table, the other trade house apprentices stood, ready to remove the cloches to reveal the feast. Dorian was glad he didn''t have to deal with it but would have gladly done so over the dealing with what a madhouse the cookery became.


    Dorian stalled for a bit before Rand gave him a light shove, and he cursed mentally as his father herded him up to the top. The other three master cooks came to stand at the back. Before Dorian tried to hide away with them, Rand put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°You know, I''ve always been afraid of public speaking.¡± Dorian looked up at his father, Rand looking down at him without moving his head.


    ¡°Always have. Fear can be like that; it can make you hate a thing. Fear can also lead to the greatest thrill of your life, if you can embrace it.¡±


    Dorian''s brows knitted together as he thought on what his father had said. The notion that his father could be afraid was alien to him, and it threw him off balance. ¡°How do you get past the fear then, Da?¡±


    ¡°That''s just it, you don''t wait for it to pass, or it never will. Embrace it, let it light a fire in your belly. Let it drive you to meet it. This is true to all fears in life. Craft, family, love, you name it and you''ll know fear in anything worth pursuing, anything you care about.¡±


    Dorian gave him a disbelieving look, ¡°All things?¡±


    His father knelt down to one knee, and spoke gently, ¡°Yes son, all things. Do you know what my greatest fear and thrill is?¡± Dorian just shook his head. ¡°She''s waddling in right now.¡± Rand gestured and Dorian followed it to see his mother, the last of the villagers, heading towards her seat. Dorian smiled as his mother waved at them, and smiled twice as hard as he thought on the words of his father. The man might be a giant, but he was a kitten when it came to his wife. That''s when Rand stood and began speaking in a booming voice.


    ¡°I know each year you all hope my wife will be the one giving you your supper speech, but sadly, I''m here to disappoint.¡± He waited just a moment, ¡°but this year, I figured I''d bring up a better-looking face than my own to lighten the disappointment.¡± He shook Dorian back and forth a bit, and Dorian just smirked while shaking his head. A few people chuckled and Rand continued. ¡°This last year has been momentous, and despite the more recent concerns in our relations, and our challenges in the caves, we have endured, and will continue to do so together. As I was telling my son earlier, today isn''t just a celebration of the gifts given to us by the gods.¡± He paused a bit, letting everyone digest the adverse statement, to the villagers it was bordering blasphemy.


    ¡°Today, is for us, for the people the gods gave life to. Today is a reminder, among us all is a strength. Individually, we are enduring, hardened, and always find the will to persevere. Together, in unity, whether it be in our faith, our trade, or our families, we find the cohesion to stand together. These, however, aren''t all of what we are.¡±


    ¡°What we are is hungry!¡± Someone shouted from the back and the whole village erupted in laughter. Even Rand was laughing, right from his belly. The kind of laugh that would make the whole room vibrate if they were in one.


    After a short time everyone quieted back down. Rand gestured to the back, ¡°That, that right there is exactly what I mean. Metians, we have a capacity that I''d never seen before I came here, there is something here in this village that is outright divine. Here we are, in the depths of a cold winter, living in stone houses that seem to eat the heat right out of you, and winds that will knock you out of the privy. Despite these things we can still find the compassion to crack wise with one another, to laugh with one another. What we have is an abundance of love for our neighbors. Despite the cliche, I''d like to say that everyone standing here before you tonight are proud to say we put a bit of that love into this meal.¡± Rand raised his hand with a twisting motion, and the cloches were all lifted.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.As the steam wafted up and the apprentices ran off to stack the cloches, the aroma that wafted Dorian''s direction was intoxicating. Looking out, the faces of delight seemed to brighten Dorian''s spirits, each smile on each face brought him out of his bad mood one goofy look at a time. ¡°Before we begin, I''m proud to announce that the sweet bread there at your table was hand crafted solely by my son and is a new recipe that I think will be added to the Cook''s book of family recipes. If my fellow villagers are so inclined to agree, give this boy¡¯s mop a good shake.¡± Rand tossed Dorian''s hair, and Dorian flushed in embarrassment. ¡°I would like to thank our cookery team for putting in so much effort, the gods for the wonderful bounty, and my wife for dealing with my nonsense.¡± The crowd laughed a bit, before Rand shouted, ¡°Let us prove death.¡±


    The crown responded, ¡°by praising life.¡±


    Before a moment had passed, half the villagers were standing and distributing foods. His father scooted Dorian along, and he made his way down the spiraling ramp. He hastened over to his customary table, finding the vacant spot next to his brother.


    As Dorian sat down, he looked over to catch Kurt mid-bite on some kind of leg. Somehow, he managed to look guilty with his mouth full, his deep blonde hair unkempt, grease spilling down his chin. The guilt, Dorian realized, was a sending that he was picking up on. He shut it down and reached out to start serving himself. He started with the mashed sweet potato, one of his own buns, and a lamb chop. Before he sat, however, he figured he''d grab a haunch for Ohmer. The little guy hadn''t been very animated as of late, and Dorian wanted to make sure he was well fed. As he reached over to grab one of the legs, Kurt swatted at his hand with the drumstick. Dorian looked over, incredulous, as Kurt spoke through a mouth full of meat. ¡°Mine,¡± he stated. Dorian scowled at him and reached again but was swatted away a second time.


    Dorian looked over, not amused. ¡°You don''t want to know where that hand has been.¡±


    Kurt abruptly dropped the drumstick he held, and just said ¡°yours.¡± That got a chuckle from a few men at the table and a few scowls from their wives. Completely unabashed, Dorian took the haunch, and bowed to the table. What the rest of the table hadn''t seen was Ohmer snatching it away as it was behind his back. Dorian sat and enjoyed the meal, the company, and the season. Maybe new years wasn''t so bad after all.


    After the meal was done, his family gathered themselves to head back home, while the rest of the other apprentices had to gather the dirty dishes to wash them. Working in the evening didn''t sound fun, and Dorian was glad he didn''t have to. Before his family had left, however, he spotted Bo and swiftly looked away. Reflecting on the words of his father, he looked back up at the young man. When Bo spotted him, Dorian didn''t look away, instead matching his glare. A long moment passed before Kurt snagged his attention away.


    ¡°Whoa there little brother.¡± Kurt, grabbing his attention, said, ¡°You''re looking a bit feral at the moment, you might want to calm down before Da notices.¡± Dorian replied but by sending rather than speaking.


    ¡°Sorry Kurt, I just saw Bo and it just, I don''t know, got me heated.¡±


    ¡°It''s alright, I understand. We''ll have the last laugh on that one.¡±


    ¡°No, we won''t. I will. Don''t you have a tournament in a few months, really wanna spoil that?¡±


    Kurt just grimaced before giving a comparable stare at Bo. Luckily, their parents gestured for their leave, and between his mother''s pregnancy and the mead his father had drank, it was a very long walk home.


    When they finally finished their trek, navigating the trail by moonlight, Kurt and Dorian set off to their proper duties. Dorian hauled in several logs for their stone hearth as Kurt filled a small pot intending to boil it for tea. Kurt stacked the logs appropriately and got a fire going and Dorian went back out to the log pile to grab a few extra. It wasn''t needed that very second, but there''s nothing worse than leaving the comfort of a warm fire to greet the cold night air.


    Dorian had snagged a few decent sized pieces of timber when he heard the familiar ¡°ru-ru¡± from Ohmer. Dorian had been worried about the cast removal and the week prior he had made a makeshift caste out of linewood. He didn''t want his friend to get chopped in half, despite Ohmer''s consistent appetite.


    Ohmer swam up Dorian''s back, perching his head out from Dorian''s shoulder. ¡°What is it bud?¡± Dorian said aloud.


    ¡°Ru-ru, ru-ru-ru.¡± Ohmer looked at him then out into the woods. Dorian raised an eyebrow at the critter. What do you want? I''ve fed you more than you weigh over the last few hours. He moved his hand to pet Ohmer, and it swam out along his arm, taking on its natural shape. Its antennae bobbed about, and eventually Dorian received the mental concept of a predator seeking prey.


    That''s absurd, Dorian thought. Most anything with teeth had already hidden themselves away for the winter. That''s when Ohmer sent another concept: human. Human predator. Followed by another concept, one that said hunger but in a different way. The idea evolved into fuel, which Dorian didn''t have the slightest idea as to what Ohmer meant by this.


    Exasperated, Ohmer sent Dorian the image of the massive blob that had chased Dorian down in the pond. He still felt clueless, which Ohmer picked up on immediately. Show? Not the word, but the concept floated up in his mind. This wasn''t an uncommon mode of communication between the two, an intuition of base conceptual ideas, like speaking to a child that can kind of talk but hadn''t yet matured enough to communicate accurately.


    How show?


    Ohmer melted away into a translucent layer and spread all over Dorian''s body. Then the layer seemed to melt inward, disappearing entirely. With a sudden jolt, Dorian was no longer controlling his own body. His arms came up on their own accord, and he felt a focus running through him. It was the feeling of his nervous system focused tight into his hands, and then, as though it was only natural, that focus extended. From the center of his palms, two lengths of globular fluid reach out and merged, like hot Steelfyre into a melding mass. Dorian could feel them, like they were an extension of his own body.


    Hold? The concept appeared unbidden.


    Hold What?


    The translucence that was Ohmer flowed up and out, forming in the center of the ball. When he arrived in earnest, everything released in a great flash. The surprise of having full control of his faculties, combined with the flash, left Dorian on his backside. Blinking away the spots in his eyes, Ohmer padded up to him, sitting between Dorian''s spread legs. Padded. The Garru had sprouted legs.


    A sense of loneliness washed over him, urgent and strangely hostile. He could tell, somehow that Ohmer felt the same sensation, and watched as the now quadrupedal animal gave a whimper. When the sensation passed, Dorian inspected his companion.


    Ohmer now sat at nearly two feet from snout to paw, and roughly four and a half feet to its tail. His fur was snow white, with no reflective surface. He would be unnoticeable at a passing glance, and Dorian wondered if he''d lose sight of the creature if not for Ohmer''s eyes. They glinted silver, reflecting just a touch of one of the moons. His face looked somewhere between a cat and a coyote, teeth noticeably sharp before a long tongue lapped out at Dorian''s face. Will return.


    And Ohmer was gone. Just like that. After a moment he heard a distinctive ¡°ru-ru,¡± which somehow set Dorian at ease.


    ¡°Dorian, what the hell are you doing out there?¡± He heard Kurt hiss. Dorian sent instead of spoke, ¡°Uh, sending Ohmer out to play?¡±


    A moment passed before Dorian picked up a faint, ¡°so weird¡± from his older brother. Dorian sighed, admitting the fault for what it was, truthful. Dorian got up and brought in the wood he had in hand.


    After finding a seat in a woven chair, his parents, with a few comments from Kurt, bombarded him with the basics to a card game. It was a simple matching game played with three decks of cards in conjunction. The tactics of which were completely lost to him as they barraged him with information. His father had been shuffling the cards through the entire tirade, and before Dorian could protest he was dealt a hand of seven cards.


    Dorian was teamed up with Kurt for this first go, and they both knew that their parents had planned to give them an instructional thrashing. Dorian could tell Kurt was excited to give them a good thrashing in tow. ¡°Are you thinking the same thing?¡± Dorian asked, and the grin that broke out on Kurt''s face was far more canine than anything Ohmer could accomplish.


    The first round was swift and brutal. The thorough victory was cemented after they had mutually matched two sets each, Kurt going out with a flourish.


    ¡°And that''s point. Sure you want to play to five?¡± Kurt said with swagger. His mother glared but couldn''t manage preventing the laughter in her voice. ¡°Don''t get too cocky, you little bear scat you!¡± His father chuckled along but for what Dorian wasn''t sure.


    Despite the planning and co-operation between the two brothers, basically as much cheating as one could dream of, they got beat. Round after round, the sound and steady defeat was something akin to a back ranked stave practitioner challenging a master, they were beaten with a subterfuge so subtle that cats on the prowl could only dream of it. Their final round left his mother doing a victory jig, usually something akin to a rooster, now noticeably slower in an attempt to steady the bulk of her swollen belly. After rubbing their kids face in it, but still with noticeable cheer, they hung the cards up for their gift exchange.


    The gift exchange was more or less a family affair. Each person conspired with the others, sometimes with several small gifts, others with more collective gifts. Usually, if all three agreed, it was something great, but if the other two couldn''t come to a communal decision you had to split off and do multiples. Dorian got two gifts that year. The first was an educational book collection, each one thick as the lump of Steelfyre he should have gotten. It would probably catch a better price, Dorian had thought to himself. He used that as the incentive to smile broadly to his family and thank them graciously. His next gift, to his amusement, was a sling shot. Not just any slingshot, this thing was a weapon if he''d ever seen one.


    The thing was polished and lacquered, smoothed out from likely hours of sanding. The wood was foreign to him, and its shape was designed with an extended bottom that curved out to a leather strap. The amount of tension he could pull on the rubber cords was downright preposterous.


    Lately he had been reliving experiences of countless individuals, all of which had been running around in the back of his head. Of the experiences many were painful, others wonderful, but all of which had aged him over the recent few weeks. He thought on them often, and other times he wondered at what it must be like to live to an old age having lived so much through others¡¯ lives, and he dreaded where his own sanity might take him one day. Other times he brooded, concerning himself over little matters, afraid to face the big issue for what it was. He was exhausted from the recent rush in the kitchens, tired from staff practices and hauling wood, and suddenly left alone by his animal companion, but despite all these things, he wanted nothing more than to go out and shoot things with his new gift, which left him giddy with excitement.


    Dorian put up the best front he could as they all came together exchanged the gifts, but his mind kept erring back to his new weapon, for the time unable to resist the call of being a ten-year-old child. Kurt got his customary new journal, but little did he know Dorian had a second gift for him that wasn''t quite ready yet. He, and the rest of the family, got his father an assortment of cooking utensils. Dorian''s contribution was odd, but of no worse for it. He had gotten some line tree and soaked it to a watery paste, intending to use it to make a guard to the oven''s regular abuses. He was inspired by his caste, after he had whipped together his false replacement. A simple coating before the first oven and it would dry enough to make a protective layer, of which he could be removed with a simple soak. He had to mix some aloe with it as eventually if the wood soaked long enough it would dissolve, coagulating at the bottom of whatever container. It made for a great sealant, it was typically how they sealed barrels or other containers crafted by the Cutters. The aloe seemed to prevent the degradation however and had worked close to what Dorian had expected. His father was impressed with the ingenuity, and asked Dorian if he would make more if it worked as intended.


    Their mother had received her gift early that morning, it was an astonishingly large map that had been installed at the trapper''s house, fully plotted with coordinates and cased in glass. It was meant for anything, but his mother was already talking about using it to check and update the current state of traps throughout the valley, possibly to update the community on the caves and their findings. It was tough to put it all together, it had to be four or five times as tall as Dorian, and they would have to make a step ladder for their mother if she was going to be able to reach the top. It was grandiose, but the hours of work it took to literally crank holes into the wall to give the glass support was a proud accomplishment by Dorian, and the look on their mother''s face that morning was completely priceless.


    Still, by the end of the exhausting day, he was too wired to want to sleep, excited at the prospect of mischief and adventure on the morrow. The good cheer of the day began to melt away, as slowly but surely, he drifted off in his weaver spun chair. Comforted by a fire, he drifted off to the sight of his mother putting the fire guard up, allowing the heat to circulate through hallowed stone vents throughout the house. Next thing he knew he was lifted, then he was on his bed, then he was drifting gently in the glow of warmth that was new years day.

 Chapter 12 - Suspect

    Ah, I do lose myself in these entries from time to time. I wonder if my elation has grown to become sick, or if it is the change that brings me pleasure, a break from the centuries if you will. When you''ve done a thing hundreds of thousands of times, whether in the same body or a new, feeling anything is a blessing. Even pain, pain has slowly become bliss, and I often ponder as to what extremes I may yet venture through to inspire my lusts.


    I digress, on the matter of preserving the reservoir, I''ve found some success in the humanoid bipeds I created. As comical as it may sound, I gave them the metabolism of a reptile, and the skin of a mole. There were some... adverse side effects to the process. Still, my intention to create a new animal to expose and repair the reservoir was a success.


    Mid-way through the night, Dorian woke to a familiar sound. Like a call to arms, Dorian sat up abruptly and knew on an instinctual level that something was amiss. Looking out his window, he thought that he could make out the shape of an animal next to a walnut tree. The moons were both nearly full, and the night was bright enough to see the shadow Ohmer cast on the snow beneath him.


    Trying to be as silent as possible, he threw a robe on and scurried out the front door. Afraid the sound would wake someone, he left the door slightly ajar. He ran over, and at first, he could hear the growl emanating from the Garru. ¡°It''s me, Ohmer, It''s me Dorian. What''s wrong bud?¡± He spoke in a concerning tone, and Ohmer recognized him right off. Ohmer padded over with a heavy limp, and the smell that accompanied him was somewhere between rotting flesh and infection. Even though the stench was palpable he ignored it, inspecting the creature for wounds. On Ohmer''s right side, a living shadow seemed to writhe. The blackness had a point to it, something jagged, but disregarding caution Dorian reached out and grabbed it.


    Ohmer gave a yelp as Dorian pulled the dark thing out. It stopped writhing for a moment as Dorian cut himself on the jagged end. He gripped it and it went still for a moment. He opened his palm to see what it was, roughly the length of a long knife, but crooked, like a snake in motion. The edges had cut deep in to Dorian''s palm, but for the moment he intended to check on Ohmer. He reached out to pat at his fur.


    Upon contact Ohmer pulled into him, not unlike steel to a lodestone. It was jarring for a moment, his senses filled with the night.


    He was suddenly Ohmer, reliving the Garru¡¯s experiences as though it were a flashback. Padding through the darkness, skulking along the trail as he headed out of Metan. He caught the sound of soft murmurs and saw... heat? A fire? The radial heat emitted by the fire made the trees surrounding it bright with shades of red to purple. He approached it quietly and listened. He knew he couldn''t understand them, but he also knew that Dorian could. With this in mind, Ohmer sat and waited quietly.


    ¡°No, sir, I don''t have anything definitive. I swear it, it only makes sense that he was sending to her. Was I incorrect in her assessment?¡± The voice was that of a younger male. The next voice belonged to another male, fully mature.


    ¡°You were indeed correct, but any fool with half a wit could tell. She was sending so broadly, I''m surprised the unattuned couldn''t hear it. Now, about this boy, you tell me there were signs. Be specific, I won''t have another mistake like the one in Kresson. That mistake may yet cause the slaughter of an entire city, and that''s on your head. Now, specifics.¡± His voice carried like a man giving an announcement. If he weren''t so far outside the bounds of Metan, most of the village could likely hear him.


    ¡°There were reports a few years back of a boy carrying a hunk of Gwam from one side of the village to the other, I can show you the marks it left in the tree he threw it at.¡±


    ¡°A few years? We''ve taken four vessels from here in the last year, and the girl is a full blown Priorius. You''ll need to do better than that. What about Sendings? Have you not heard anything from him?¡± The older man''s tone was terse.


    ¡°No, sir. I''ve listened intently, but if the boy is sending he''s already figured out how to tighten his telesending.¡±


    Chuckling, the older man replied, ¡°You mean to tell me that a boy of what? Ten? Has already figured out what most take years to master, and many never do? Don''t try to sell me on bear scat boy. Triple primed vessel or not, I''m the one who has to make the call, and I don''t have the power the Grand Elder has. I can''t just go about invading minds, until the Grand Elder has passed the reigns, we must be more... circumspect.¡±


    As they spoke, Ohmer moved in closer, trying to get a look at the two. Through the light of the fire and the heat the man projected, Dorian could tell with absolute certainty it was the priest from the service earlier that night. His head tilted at his companion, the younger man just a shadow as he was facing away from Ohmer.


    ¡°Do you have any other suspicions? Anybody showing signs? Even a single primed vessel would suffice, our order is going to be in dire need within the next few years. There''s even discussion of taking the broken vessels, soon all will be needed.¡±


    ¡°A few, yes, but I have nothing concrete to add to my report. I will keep a vigilant eye, but I''m still kept from many of the trade houses. If you can provide me with a suitable excuse, I may-¡±


    The man pointed right at Ohmer, shouting over the boy. ¡°Garru! Kill it you fool!¡± The man pulled back an arm, Ohmer turning to flee when bright spots of pain lanced through his foreleg. Ohmer unconsciously yelped as he made a mad dash through the foliage.


    A shout came, ¡°You idiot! You allowed one of the villagers to bond it and you hadn''t noticed? You fool!¡± A sharp cry of pain rang through the dissonant night air, murmurs of protest followed, but all Ohmer knew was the fear, and the pain. Then he was running, and limping, hoping they hadn''t followed. For a short time, he was reliving his harassment by the giant rodent. Barring his dread, he wanted to live, hoping against hope to survive long enough to be back in the safety and kinship of his bond. Running, running...


    Taking in a gasping breath, Dorian broke from the vision. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes, he asked, ¡°Ohmer, you okay buddy?¡± Ohmer, back to how he was before he left, shifted out into his arms. No longer a different shape, but he was a magnitude larger than he was, but otherwise seemed to be in fine health. His vibration was one of concern, not for himself but for Dorian. He sniffed at the sharp blackness that lye in his palm.


    Take.


    Not as a word, but a concept. It blossomed in his mind with heavy emphasis, apparently a dire circumstance. The blackness started to move, writhing in his palm. How take?


    The image of Dorian releasing Ohmer, his sense of that feeling he had, his nerves breaking the very bounds of his body. Okay then, yeah, lets do the thing that feels weird to a black mass, stolen from a priest, later removed from a wild animal that became friends with you. He sighed.


    Focusing, Dorian gripped the mass tight in his hand, and sensed it. Somehow natural, like when he moved the flames, he pushed out the green mass, enveloping his closed fist. For a moment, it just stopped, the blackness felt jagged like a bur. Then it shifted, and stopped. Letting go of his focus, the green light retracted. Dorian opened his palm to see a blackened teardrop resting there. After a moment it broke and crawled through the cuts in his palm, sealing them as it became a part of him. As it did, along with it came a memory of providing a service, then nothing. Fuck, I''ve really have to get a handle on all this.


    The ru-ru hymn was all Dorian heard, all he felt was Ohmer''s happiness to be out of danger, happy to be safe. ¡°Should we go get warm then, little guy?¡± and the pulse doubled in intensity. Dorian headed inside, and after recovering enough warmth that his toes were no longer numb, he drifted off to sleep soundly.


    The dawn broke, but Dorian couldn''t be stirred. His dreams were vivid, enveloping him entirely. Lost in a series of moments, a mad dash of emotions swirled through his being, and for a time he was anything but Dorian Cook of the valley.


    When he finally did wake, the last thing he remembered were a set of ruby lips, those lips smiling in soft contented mockery, not in a cruel way, but a way that spoke of playfulness. The way they smiled begged a question. They asked if those lips were all that there were, and the whole of his existence was a dedication to chasing them, could he find bliss? Contentment? Serenity? Yes, he thought, just before his world spun, and the cold stone floor came rising to meet him.


    ¡°Good morning, Dorian!¡± Kurt cheered like a gods damned bell. Why was the morning always so early?


    ¡°Ugh,¡± Dorian groaned, feeling groggy. He collected himself trying to go back to bed, but found the blanket had gone missing. He stared daggers at his brother. ¡°Blanket.¡± His tone was as flat as Kressian bread, his open palm presented outward, and he waited.


    ¡°Does somebody miss his banky?¡± Kurt asked teasingly.


    ¡°Ohmer?¡± The Garru came out to his forearm, just Ohmer''s head taking shape. He looked up at Dorian, then at Kurt, then back at Dorian. ¡°Kill¡± he said aloud but thought in jest. The black teardrops started flourishing about Ohmer''s head, then Ohmer extended himself giving a full display of blackness. The worm of swirling dark was horrifying with its mouth spinning in a terror inducing display.


    ¡°Nope.¡± Kurt just said and held the blanket behind him. ¡°That''ll only work once on me, scary as it is.¡± Kurt peered in to the spinning shapes, ¡°It is still pretty neat. Boink.¡± Kurt poked Ohmer, and Ohmer just shrank away to his normal shape, looking at Dorian with big doe eyes.


    ¡°Aw, you upset the poor guy. It''s okay bud, coat?¡± A sad ru-ru came from Ohmer, but he shifted into the image of his winter coat and trousers. Feeling warm, Dorian turned and plopped back down on his bed.


    Kurt, getting frustrated, asked, ¡°Do you just want to sleep the whole day away? Come on! I know you want to try out your new slingshot, you don''t even want to know what Da and I had to do to get the rubber for it.¡± He moved over and started shaking the bed back and forth.


    With an exacerbated sigh, Dorian got out of bed, doing his best to shake off the sleep. With a great yawn, he cued Ohmer to go back to normal and his makeshift winter gear disappeared.


    ¡°You know, I''ve got to get me one of those, seems mighty handy.¡± Kurt looked at Dorian ponderously.


    Dorian just shrugged, ¡°I don''t know if you can, I saved him from this giant rat thing, he''s here by choice.¡± Kurt''s reply was a simple grunt of ascent as he turned around. Before he left he just said, ¡°Hurry up and get dressed already, we''re only a few hours from noon and we''ve got some walking to do yet.¡± Dorian did his best at mimicking the noise Kurt had made, but unfortunately his vocal cords hadn''t picked up the gruffness required, and his noise came out sounding pathetic. He just sighed to himself and got dressed.


    The morning air was, as most early winter days were, fucking cold, but surprisingly refreshing. There was always something additionally brisk about the winter, the way the stagnant cold air felt fresh and unperturbed made one wonder why the evening felt so different. Most days, Dorian assumed, left the world broken of that deep serenity and it took the still of night to calm it back to its pristine state. In the fresh morning Dorian took a deep breath, savoring the refreshing air, then as he exhaled, he swore slowly.


    Kurt raised an eyebrow at him as Dorian stood just outside the front door. ¡°Had to muddy up the water a little bit¡± he murmured in reply. Kurt shook his head, eyebrow still raised.


    ¡°Shall we?¡± Kurt asked as he tossed Dorian his staff. Dorian caught it deftly, and made his way to his brother.


    ¡°Hmm, that''s weird. Can I see your staff real quick?¡±


    Kurt looked at him suspiciously. ¡°I''m not gonna hurt it, just lemme see it, real quick.¡±


    Still looking suspiciously down at Dorian, he proffered the staff over. ¡°Hmm¡± Dorian said as he placed his own staff down, inspecting Kurt''s. ¡°Gods, but this one looks like shit.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Kurt''s protest was somewhat hurt. Dorian put a hand up, halting his older brother''s nonsense.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°Yeah, you plan on using this in the tournament?¡± he gave a tsk-tsk, then pulled on his sense of strength ever so gently. ¡°It''s junk¡± Dorian stated off-handedly, then threw it like a javelin all the way out past the pond.


    ¡°You dick!¡± Kurt shouted, ¡°Why would you do that?!¡± Dorian just smirked, and made a mad dash for where it had landed. As he ran past a tree that had a few dead branches stacked to one side he asked Ohmer to give him a hand. A quick swipe and the limbs fell over, tripping Kurt up enough to let Dorian make a clean get away. He heard a distant, ¡°you bastard¡± but couldn''t be slowed. He made his way to the staff, picked it up and waited for Kurt to catch up. When Kurt had a clear view of him, he threw the staff back to where they were, grinning like a madman.


    Kurt took two steps towards Dorian, the threat in those steps were unmistakable. Those were the two steps anyone took before giving someone a good thrashing, but Dorian just put his hands up saying ¡°Wait!¡± Dorian''s grin was plastered so hard on his face, he wondered momentarily if the cold might lock his face up like that forever. Brushing off the terrifying notion of looking like his brother for the rest of his life, then realizing he already would look like his brother, he gestured to a tree nearby. On it rested a line staff of Dorian''s own creation.


    When Kurt saw it his face went from boiling rage to awe in the blink of an eye. He looked at Dorian, and mouthed ¡°For me?¡± Dorian just grinned and nodded. Kurt rushed over and took it up, inspecting every smoothed contour of the thing.


    ¡°Had to check with Da, make sure it was regulation size and all, it''s light, even lighter than your own. I soaked it enough to make it into a paste, rolled it out like dough and put a series of Gwam twigs throughout one side, then rolled it up like the bread, and lit it. I had to hang on with all I had, because the thing almost flew right out of my hand.¡± Kurt''s inspection was getting quite intimate, and for good reason. He was quite proud of it, and even his father didn''t have a clue as to how he was able to burn the vivid images into the sides of it.


    The images were blackened outlines of fighters, people sparring with staves. In the middle top, just above the custom fitted grip, the name Hunt was spelled downwards. The rest of it looked like roiling flames, little bright spots popping out at the tops of the flames where the bases were blackened. It would have taken anybody weeks, if not months, to sear such imagery into line wood, but Dorian wasn''t anybody. He hadn''t told anybody about his ability to move fires yet, and figured he''d keep that one just for himself for now.


    ¡°Do you like it?¡± Dorian asked Kurt, then laughed as Kurt''s reply was a dumb founded sheepish look, like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Then his expression soured. He knitted his brows and asked, ¡°Do you honestly think I''d take this hiking with me?¡±


    Not having thought on that, Dorian''s expression progressed from enlightenment to one of guilt. ¡°Oops¡± he said, before running away. He hid and waited for Kurt to stash his gift, and retrieve his line staff.


    When Kurt made it out, he just said, ¡°I could see you the whole time you know.¡± Dorian turned out of the base of the tree he was hiding behind.


    ¡°What gave me away?¡± he asked, feeling foolish.


    ¡°You''re wider than the tree.¡± Kurt said, deadpan.


    They chuckled about it for a bit before Dorian asked, ¡°you really like it, honest?¡±


    ¡°Dorian, it''s the nicest thing I think I''ve ever owned. How''d you manage to afford that?¡±


    ¡°Afford? Kurt I made that, it took a good while.¡±


    ¡°Bear shit, there''s no way. I saw that it was hallowed out, but there''s no way you could have gotten that done. You''d have to have hot irons at it for hours, and there''s no way you''d be going over to the smithy. So, how''d you afford it?¡±


    Dorian sighed audibly, then said, ¡°You know I''ve got a few tricks I''ve kept to myself. Though I don''t have much private time to practice, I''m picking up a few things.¡± Really, the violent flashbacks he had were the real reasons he could do most of what he could. Over the last month, they''d been more frequent, set off by any assortment of random variables. Simple things, like sweeping the cookery or getting his pant leg stuck as he changed. Sometimes right at the dinner table, nobody ever seemed to notice, and more often than not he couldn''t recall much after. The little he did remember, he did his best to use, sometimes even provoking more vivid memories out of his practice. It helped, but he assumed it would be finite, not a decent source to ground his understandings from. Maybe he would make a parody of ¡°Rex''s Guide,¡± though only for himself.


    Lost in his musings, Dorian hadn''t noticed the skeptical look on Kurt''s face. ¡°Sure thing, little brother. Whatever you say.¡± Then he just walked off, and Dorian''s own disbelief bordered the line of being hurt. Maybe he''d give Kurt another scare later. A ¡°ru-ru¡± chirped up at the thought, and he grinned before catching up to his brother.


    ¡°Where are we heading anyways?¡± Dorian asked between breathes.


    ¡°I know a good open meadow, we''ll set up some things to shoot at.¡±


    Nodding to this, he found his pace behind his older brother, losing himself in the rhythm of the walk. When you walk to cover ground quickly in rough terrain, it can be exhausting. Dorian knew this as a fact, and snacked as they walked to keep his energy up. His brother''s longer gate was something Dorian actively envied as they made their way through the thick wood. The snow was unpacked, which meant probing was an additional demand on Kurt as Dorian did his best to follow the footprints left behind. When they found enough trail, they''d walk next to each other chatting as they went, but for now it was silent save for the sound of their breath in the thin air.


    The sun beat at the back of Dorian''s neck for a time. He always had a distaste for working in the winter, even if he loved how beautiful the snow made the valley. The problem with working outside in the winter was simple, sweat. When you sweat under several layers of warm clothes it left you damp, which was just awful in the bitterness of the winter chill. If you tried to open your coat or remove a layer, the cold swept in and you could simply give up on trying to stay warm. Between the two choices, Dorian usually opted for simply sweating in his jacket, which inevitably led to him reeking.


    Dorian haphazardly sniffed at his armpit sometime around noon, and sure as the sun rising, he stunk. Grimacing, he looked up to see that Kurt had stopped and was watching Dorian. Now flushed, he took a breath, about to say something to save face, when Kurt shushed him. He placed a finger to his lips and tapped them gently, then pointed two fingers at his eyes, then gestured about the woods.


    Dorian gave a worried scowl, then nodded at his brother. Kurt crouched down low, moving as silently as he could through the thin trail. Whenever the wind gusted, he would move more quickly, and Dorian struggled to keep pace with him. Finally, Kurt neared the crest of the small hill, then dropped to his belly, crawling forward to get a look at what was in front of him.


    Hidden mostly by brush and fallen trees, Dorian noticed a light emanating from where Kurt was looking. That''s when he heard it, a muffled but accented conversation.


    Dorian sent to his brother, ¡°Want me to listen in?¡±


    Kurt, eyes intense in their visage, turned his head and nodded slowly.


    ¡°I''ll do what I can to relay what they''re saying back to you.¡± He just nodded once more, crawled forward a touch, and settled himself. Dorian sat in the snow behind Kurt, using the incline of the hill to hide himself.


    ¡°Isn''t she the one that gave you that there scar on your cheek, you''re lucky she''s an awful shot.¡± The voice was young and eager.


    ¡°You don''t know nothin'' of the like ya young pup, she''s the best shot I''ve ever seen. She gave me this because she thought I was too beautiful a man, had to give me a few rougher edges.¡± This man, an older one, was seemingly tired. Maybe frustrated? He was doing something idly as he spoke, shuffling cards Dorian thought.


    Sounding coy, the first man, spoke. ¡°Sure, is that what she told ya? I was hearing different, heard she was telling you were pervin'' and she wasn''t having any for it, so the next time she caught ya creeping at her she gave ya a mark to remember.¡± The younger man looked at the cards given, sorted three thirteens together, and placed the other two back on the table.


    ¡°Bah, she''s good enough looking, but there ''ent to way of stealing that one''s heart unless you be committed. That I was, and ya know, she did give me the mark to remember her by, but not the way you be sayin'' it. I''mma have her as my bride when this is all over.¡± He dealt two cards back to his opponent, then two cards from the bottom of the deck to himself.


    ¡°Oh, I seriously doubt that.¡±


    ¡°And why''s that?¡±


    ¡°She''s not the type to marry a pauper.¡± The younger man slid a few coins forward to the center pile.


    The older man laughed and matched the coins. ¡°I''ll have you to thank ¡®fer paying off our service with the temple, if it''s still there.¡± The older man gestured for the younger man to show his cards. The younger man did so, when he did the older man let out a low whistle. Just as the younger man moved to collect his winnings, the older man stopped him.


    Smiling, he said, ¡°oh, you''re good, but not as good as me.¡± He laid his cards down, and the younger man let out a low growl. ¡°She won''t be having your hand, Franky. I''ll have it, for the simple fact that you¡¯re a Gwendian cheat!¡± The younger man threw the table and lunged at the older one. The older one took a few lumps before getting a hold on the younger man, holding his arm at an odd angle.


    ¡°Alright Edger, you got me, you keep the winnings, and I''ll refund all you lost. Just wanted to see how long I could keep you going.¡±


    Suddenly, a third voice, younger but in more control spoke. Dorian could pick up on what the others could hear, but he couldn''t pick up on what the third was saying as he spoke it. ¡°What are you idiots doing out here?! I''m trying to catch some sleep because you two fools couldn''t be spared to take your watches last night, and I wake up to this stupid shit? Franky, let go of Edger, give him his money back, and squash this now. Now!¡± This third man''s voice broke as he shouted, and Dorian pushed harder to hear him directly. After a moment, the pressure Dorian applied gave, and the third man was stunned.


    ¡°Monks! Sound the horn!¡± It was heard audibly, and Kurt jumped up quick. ¡°Move!¡± Kurt bellowed. Dorian Turned, not sure where to run to, followed the tracks they had made on the way up. They were hard to make out as the gusts of wind pulled enough snow to begin filling them in. In most cases it wasn''t a problem, but ever so often there were stints where the tracks would disappear. It was in the middle of this predicament that Dorian heard the loudest moose call he had ever heard.


    Dorian looked back to Kurt, and realized Kurt was absolutely terrified. He whispered harshly at Dorian. ¡°What''s the hold up?!¡±


    ¡°I lost the trail,¡± Dorian replied, frantic.


    ¡°It doesn''t matter, we just have to get out of here, come on.¡± Kurt grabbed the corner of Dorian''s jacket and pulled him along. As they ran, heedless of their path, Kurt spotted the end of the tree line. He motioned Dorian that way. After weaving through trees, bramble bushes, and tripping half a dozen times, Dorian broke free of the tree line.


    Before him lay a rocky landscape, inclining upwards. It was the small range that cut Kresson off from the wilds, not as jagged as the peaks that surrounded the valley, nor as high, but still a dangerous enough that there was no direct pass between Metan and Kresson.


    Dorian turned, looking about for Kurt. He called out in a constricted whisper, ¡°Kurt?¡±


    Nearly slapping himself for his own stupidity, he sent. ¡°Kurt, where are you?¡±


    ¡°Not far behind, leaving tracks in other directions, I''ll catch up. The winds should cover your trail within the hour, just hide behind some rocks until I show up. Go! And don''t send to me until you see me again, I don''t know if he can hear us.¡± Dorian gave a mental nod and proceeded to make his way up the sloping rocks. Dorian found a small alcove that was mostly invisible until he was right on top of it.


    He climbed in slowly, lowering himself so he could keep his eyes on the tree line he left behind. Dorian took a moment to calm himself, focusing on each breathe until he felt levelheaded again. As he moved back up to take another look at the tree line he heard the echo of a clattering behind him. He turned abruptly, realizing that his little alcove was the end of a tunnel. The blackness behind him was ominous, but that couldn''t be helped. He picked up a small stone and tossed it, hoping he''d hit a wall or something, but all he heard was a thud as it landed in dirt.


    As eerie as it was, Dorian was more concerned that he had stumbled upon another Priorius, another Priorius not taken by the Monastery. It meant, at least to Dorian, that his desires weren''t simply empty hopes. If another person could make their way in the valley without the Monastery finding out, then he could too.


    The sound of rocks clattering against other rocks echoed again from the darkness. Scared, Dorian called out Ohmer, and pet him worriedly. Ohmer began to hum his noise, which comforted Dorian significantly. Another clatter, and Dorian shot up confronting the dark tunnel. Dorian''s fear finally began to wane, now leaving him somewhere between curious and guarded. ¡°Hello?¡± He whispered, then waited.


    Nothing. His mind playing tricks on him. He began to turn back to check the tree line again when he heard a sound. This sound wasn''t the sound of rock on rock, it was closer to the scurrying sound that a squirrel made as it climbed a limb, except it clattered. The Garru moved down Dorian''s leg and stood in front of Dorian, it growled into the blackness of the tunnel.


    Quiet as he could, Dorian whispered, ¡°hello?¡±


    A small stone landed and rolled, Ohmer hopping out of the way and hissing, the stone stopped as it bumped against his boots. Dorian reached down and picked it up. He recognized it as the stone he had thrown into the tunnel earlier.


    ¡°Dorian?¡± A heavy whisper from behind him. Dorian jumped in surprise, turning to the whisper. Picking up on this, Ohmer bounded up to the drop off that was at the beginning of the tunnel, emanating a hum that made Dorian nervous. Kurt stared back at him, concern on his face.


    ¡°Oh, thank the gods. Kurt, it''s just you.¡±


    ¡°Shh, I don''t know if they''ve caught on yet, but we have to move. I want to get out of this area, especially before it gets late. We don''t want to spend the night in the wilds, not even in winter.¡± Kurt''s expression was grim.


    ¡°Kurt, I wanted to tell you,¡± Dorian whispered. As he spoke, something snatched at his ankles, literally pulling his feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard, making a squawking noise as the air in his lungs sought an escape.


    ¡°Dorian?¡± Kurt turned, alarmed. Dorian looked up, and reached out to get up, but something pulled at his ankles again, this time much harder. He tried to grip the walls, the floor, anything, but he couldn''t find a hold. Ohmer and Kurt began moving towards him, but too late. Kurt shouted, but the light at the mouth of the tunnel grew distant. Frantic, Dorian struggled, keeping an eye on the dwindling light. He heaved, trying to free himself. A grunt came from in front of himself. Dorian held his breath, trying to hear in the darkness. He looked back to the front of the tunnel, then with a sudden thump, all the light vanished.

 Chapter 13 - A Different Life

    The mound of flesh that was once a visage of torment writhed back and forth. The dim torchlight did a poor job at illuminating this rare and solemn occurrence. The others, more feral than their forefather, stood some distance away chanting. ¡°Mo-der, Mo-der, birk Mo-der, birk.¡± They clattered sticks and stomped their feet as they chanted in tempo. As the feeling of dread swept over him, he resigned himself to the fates as all else was out of his control.


    The tempo hastened, and so did his heartbeat. The mass of flesh rose at its peak, and the imprint of a hand drew his eye. Staring in shock, another hand met the imprint. He cringed as the squelching began, the clawed fingers finally finding the purchase they needed. The partially translucent flesh opened, the fingers shred the flesh apart and the disfigured humanoid that emerged gave a howl as it rent the sac.


    Gripped by fear, he could do nothing but stare. The chanting echoed against the cave walls in a cacophony that rattled his cage. He gripped the iron bars, transfixed. The newly birthed creature stepped off his cocoon, and the crowd erupted in shrieks. Whether they were of joy or terror, he didn''t know.


    This was the mother, and the father for that matter, to these creatures. It grabbed its discarded sack, tossing it to the crowd. They shrieked in delight and set upon the meat with complete abandon.


    Looking back at him, the mother spoke with a masculine voice, almost human if not for the sharp resonating tones it created with its speech. ¡°Kk-I''m so sorry little Dorian. May-k-be it k-is time for a change.¡±


    Dorian woke with a start, flinging his bed covers off himself, he whirled. Dorian reached for his knife while looking around, but the stone chamber held no enemy, no obstacle. Nor did he have a knife.


    A groan came from the other bed in the chamber. ¡°Dorian, not again.¡± The area was poorly lit by a green light at the top of their room, but his eyes were already well adjusted to it. Dorian watched as his roommate sat up slowly. ¡°Dorian, everything is fine, go back to bed.¡±


    Dorian calmed himself by taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He climbed back into bed, covering himself he muttered, ¡°Sorry Danny.¡± Dorian heard a few grumbles from the other bed, and he smiled to himself as he slipped seamlessly back to sleep.


    The pulsing light that woke them every morning came so quickly that he wondered if he had fallen back to sleep at all. Getting up, Dorian moved to hit the Giastone switch the light was connected to. He touched it, but the light kept pulsing. Damn, it broke again.


    ¡°Dorian, can you just shut it off already?¡± Came Danny''s voice, still hiding under his blankets.


    ¡°Switch broke, I''ve got it.¡± Dorian came to his bed, a stone frame with a soft mattress atop it, and climbed up. He got his feet to the edge, squatted and leaped, just barely touching the green stone. It stopped pulsing as Dorian tried to make a graceful landing. He stumbled and fell on to Danny.


    ¡°Gah!¡± Danny wailed as Dorian tried to straighten himself. Danny pulled the covers from his head displaying a placid face with sharp features. His stubby short hair was a dirty blonde, and his pointed chin had spots of stubble where his facial hair was beginning to grow in. His dark eyes looked at Dorian.


    ¡°Do you mind?¡± Danny''s face was deadpan as he stared at Dorian.


    ¡°Not at all.¡± Dorian smiled pleasantly, ¡°I was just so excited to greet your smiling face.¡± Dorian got up just in time to hear a frustrated Danny say, ¡°ugh! Personal space Dorian, it¡¯s a thing.¡±


    Dorian paid him little mind as he got ready for the day, it was an important day for him and he didn''t want Danny''s sour mood to affect his exam. If he was being honest with himself, he tried to not to let Danny''s sour mood or aggressive behaviors bother him. Danny was spoiled and selfish. He also palled around with other people that usually had the same kind of arrogant attitude. Danny wasn''t so bad alone, but when he had a friend with him Dorian swiftly became the backside of every joke. Then the bad side of every threat.


    Dorian suspected that he would be a dick to anyone that had to room with him, unless of course he had a female roommate. Then, by the gods, he would be an absolute gentleman if a little bit greasy. Lucky for the monastery initiates that they didn''t allow the different sexes to live on the same floor. Well, lucky for the women that is.


    Dorian dressed and gathered his things, unable to stop fidgeting with his bracer. Every initiate had one and didn''t get it removed until they ascended. Usually after an hour or two, he''d forget about the thing completely, but it was oddly painful in the morning.


    Sighing, Dorian took to cleaning up his things and taking great care in making his bed. The monks didn''t take kindly to messy quarters, and if you failed room inspections, they could get creatively cruel. Once, after Dorian had emptied the garbage, he had left the cloth sack draped over the small bin, his polite way of saying, ¡°I did what should be done, don''t mess with it until after inspections.¡± Of course, when Danny had found out that the women¡¯s room inspector had swapped with the men''s for that week''s inspection, Danny couldn''t help but try to clean up his shitty looking facial hair. He tossed it into the garbage bin, without putting the sack in, and thought nothing of it.


    Since it was Dorian''s responsibility to clean the bins that week, he was the one punished for the impertinence to detail. If not for that one mistake, the men''s side would have had a flawless score. This not only pissed off Brother Mark, but also the rest of his dormitory mates. Dorian''s punishment was simple, twelve hours in the Rock.


    The Rock was a chamber of sorts, you were placed in a stone chair and strapped down with Netstone , a green stone that looks a lot like Giastone, but has a way of keeping a Priorius, or a vessel, from accessing all their abilities. Unfortunately, there were enough straps to keep Dorian from doing anything with his abilities, not as though it would have mattered. Most everybody else was significantly stronger than he was, which was probably why he was so much older than most people in his classes.


    When Dorian was strapped down and rendered powerless, Sister Clarissa had been the one so kind as to pull the lever. The chair spun on a platform, twisting into the wall behind. When the rotation stopped, Dorian couldn''t see a thing. He could feel a small draft but couldn''t hear where it came from. So, it was Dorian, and the silence, for twelve hours. It doesn''t sound that bad as far as punishments went, but he would rather be whipped than be forced into that cramped dark space again. It was an awful way to spend your sixteenth birthday.


    Today, thankfully, he wouldn''t be dealing with anything of the like. Today, he was to be tested on his ¡°Giansynthesis,¡± or species alteration proficiency. He was a vessel, double primed with fire, but had so little Gia that he simply couldn''t manifest as well as the others. It¡¯s because of this that Dorian had been forced to work more towards intricacy, and instead of raising an entire crop he could alter the growth of the crop to have more than fifteen times the yield. Today the entire class would be tested on their fine skills, something Dorian felt significantly more confident in.


    Ken stood at the Door to the stone chamber like he always did, scouting out for Sister Brenda. Even though the entire structure they lived in was carved out of mountainous rock face, each room had a ring of Giastone around each doorway. It acted like a buffer of sorts, creating an ethereal wall that somehow shutoff sound and airflow. It made each room its own little world.


    Something should be said for Ken, he was a good kid. A year younger than Dorian, he may have been the nicest person Dorian had ever known, which wasn''t a whole lot of people. In nearly four years, Dorian hadn''t made many friends. He didn''t know where he spent the first twelve years of his life which made Dorian a bit of an outcast. Most initiates his age had been six to ten years old when they began, which left Dorian significantly behind in his overall education. Ken, however, was roughly in the same boat he was in, something that led to an easy sense of comradely between them.


    ¡°Kennith!¡± Dorian boomed, grinning as he watched the scowl grow upon Ken''s face. The green tinted lighting made him look even more green. Dorian knew he was nervous.


    ¡°I told you, Ken is fine.¡± Ken looked at Dorian, then smiled a bit. ¡°Kennith sounds too serious.¡±


    ¡°You seem to be all kinds of serious today. They put you on door watch again?¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Ken looked away seeming bashful, ¡°I just volunteered. Hopefully, it''ll be the last day of this class, and I won¡¯t have to deal with them anymore. Gods, was thirteen really that bad?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I suppose it was. I didn''t even want to move that year.¡± There was a mutual quiet, as they both had spent their thirteenth year adjusting to life in the Monastery.


    Changing the subject, Dorian asked, ¡°Do anymore studying after yesterday?¡±


    Ken nodded, pulling out three seeds. ¡°I think the first two will have a high yield, though not as high as yours. The third seed, I think, should create a high calcium and Iodine concentration, it would be good for the empaths and telepaths.¡±


    Dorian nodded to this, ¡°very clever. I didn''t really know you could do that.¡±


    Ken nodded and looked away, ¡°you must be primed for the needs, and I can use a bit of empathy towards the seeds. There''s not much to go on, but I think Sister Brenda will like it.¡± He smiled a bit. Sister Brenda had always been exceptionally patient towards Ken, and Ken had shined for it. They had a completely opposite relationship than what Dorian had with her. He didn''t know how, but he always seemed to upset her. Once, when Dorian had spoken back about a class question, to which he never received an answer to, she had slapped him. Not on the knuckles with her pointer like everyone else, she open-handed slapped him right out of his chair. She caught his nose enough that he bled like a stuck goat for nearly thirty minutes before she had sent him out of the class to launder his robes. On his way out, she expressed quite diligently that Priorius initiates are to show up to class in appropriate attire.


    To put it lightly, there was something about Sister Brenda that Dorian didn''t quite understand. Despite the harsh treatment, there was an odd familiarity about her. It was the way her brow furrowed, and her nose flared when she was angry. Her posture reminded him of...


    ¡°Dorian.¡± He could feel the scowl from behind him. Dorian turned, smiling broadly.


    ¡°Sister Brenda! How fine of a day it is.¡± Dorian looked to Ken as he turned, noting his hand passing through the veil of the classroom, one finger extended.


    ¡°It¡¯s raining.¡± She looked at him, lips a thin line.


    ¡°Oh, is it? I''m so sorry Sister, I''m not allowed out without supervision. Hopefully something the next class will offer?¡± His voice raised in pitch, trying not to seem overexcited.


    ¡°We''ll see if that will be a concern for you, Dorian.¡± She looked away from him and brightened, ¡°Ah, initiate Kennith, how is my star pupil today? Did you have a good breakfast? You let me know if they short you, or if others¡± she looked back to Dorian with a scowl, ¡°are interfering with your meals. I don''t take kindly to that, not one bit. Come along now, we have a long day of testing ahead of us.¡±


    Ken led the way into class, the air had a palpable change as Dorian made his way through the doorway. Dorian headed to his seat in the middle row, each one of the desks were placed in neat rows and grown right out of the rock. There were multiple Giastones installed into the ceiling, few of which were needed as this classroom had several windows. The other classrooms were generally dingy by comparison, the lack of natural light making it feel like a dungeon. This classroom even lacked the overt splendor of some of the others, but it was truly unique because it was one of the few that had access to the courtyard.


    On first arrival to this classroom, Dorian had decided he should have a stroll outside. Before Sister Brenda appeared, Dorian decided he''d walk right through the walkway. Had his other initiates been so kind as to warn him what would happen maybe Sister Brenda wouldn''t have such a poor opinion of him. The doorway, without a Sister or Brother to disarm it, would render whomever walked through it unconscious. The barrier it created from the outside was significantly thicker than the one from the hall, and rumor had it could be lethally dangerous if you got stuck in it. Dorian was lucky enough to make it through, though he had no recollection of it. He woke up in the medical ward, dragged halfway through the monastery by Sister Brenda herself. The kids in the class never let him live that down, just another reason why Dorian was desperate to move on to the next course.


    The older an initiate was, the faster one would typically take to their callings, or more commonly their primes. Because of this, as not everyone shows up at the same time, Dorian had put most of his efforts into his studies, as the faster he caught up to his age, the more likely he''d be able to ascend. Those that didn''t for either poor performance or for overly good performance, would be stuck in the Valley. For some reason the thought of staying in the Valley had an abhorrent feel, like a betrayal of sorts, so Dorian had worked hard. He only had to get through two more classes before his next birthday, and he''d be right on track.


    ¡°Today will be the second quarterly examination, those of you wishing to progress beyond this course must have something exceptional prepared. Since there are only three of you, we will do yours first. If you will all rise from your seats now, we can head outside. Row by row, starting with one.¡± Dorian stood, towering over the kids about him. Ken wasn''t as tall as he was, but still stood a head taller than most everyone else, save Alyssa. Alyssa was a Kressian, Darker complexion than everyone in the class, but still liable to get sunburned if she was out too long. She was fifteen like Ken and had been desperate to move up nearly as bad as Dorian was. Ken didn''t seem to worry himself overmuch in that way, something Dorian could admire about his unusually shy friend.


    Sister Brenda made it to the archway and touched it. The air shimmered slightly as she stood off to one side. ¡°Row one?¡± She said contemptuously while raising an eyebrow.


    Row one made their way out in a uniform line. She called the next row in sequence, and when Dorian''s row had finally been called, she scowled the entire time. Gods, that woman could be wretched.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    When Dorian made his way out to the courtyard, he always had to take a moment to drink in the view. The were so high up that the bottoms of the clouds couldn''t be more than an oak away. Small shelves like this could be seen from the railing at the far side of the courtyard. Each one got progressively larger, until you were at ground level. At the ground floor, instead of a beautiful courtyard, stretched more than four miles of farmland, at the end of it the Priorius'' Monastery. That, Dorian had heard, was a complete marvel of engineering. Everyone got to stay there one night before their ascent, it was a reward for all that walked the path.


    Still, Dorian thought idly, there was nothing that could compare to the grandeur of the Valley itself. There was something daunting yet magnificent about the view of the valley. It was so broad, it made Dorian feel cowed, like how standing at the foot of a god must feel.


    Dorian took his place and waited quietly, enjoying every moment of the sublime sight. Unfortunately, it all seemed to end too soon.


    Standing in the middle of the grassy field, Sister Brenda spoke in a loud voice. ¡°Each of you are to prepare three pots and present them to me in turn. The objective for this exam was to prepare three seeds that could potentially help our fellow vessels. Master Kennith, you will be first. Please, everybody you have three minutes to prepare your pots, let¡¯s begin.¡±


    Dorian swiftly got in line to grab some pots, most people scrambled over each other to get the choice pots. Getting frustrated, Dorian reached over a few students and grabbed six of the better pots. On the way he accidentally nudged somebody with his stomach.


    ¡°Watch where you''re going Duh-rian.¡± Spoke the kid, and the rest of the class erupted in laughter. Dorian glared down long enough to realize he had never seen the little bastard and felt his face go flush. He grumbled about them being lucky he hadn''t simply stepped on them, and left to find Ken. Seeing Ken nearby, he handed three pots over to him.


    ¡°Thanks Dorian, you didn''t have to.¡± Ken said as he and Dorian moved to the black dirt and water buckets.


    ¡°Of course I did, you''d end up with the smallest planters again and you know it.¡±


    Ken shrugged, ¡°you''re probably right.¡± Looking pensive for a moment, he said ¡°Duh-rian is a little funny though.¡± Then he looked away, looking sheepish.


    Dorian took mock offense, ¡°Traitor. I''ll have you know that just because I''m bigger than most, that doesn''t mean I''m a dullard, a fool, or a nincompoop.¡±


    Ken shrugged, ¡°I guess that is a characteristic that everyone takes for granted. In every story the biggest and the strongest people always have a massive character flaw. I guess it¡¯s just a requirement.¡±


    Getting a little outraged, but only a little, Dorian replied, ¡°What''s wrong with that? I see nothing wrong with the big guy being the smartest or the most cunning.¡±


    ¡°Well, they can''t be.¡± Ken said, apologetic. ¡°You don''t have a story that way.¡±


    ¡°What are you going on about?¡± Dorian asked, trying to keep up on the conversation while preparing.


    Ken just sighed, grabbed his third pot and made his way to Sister Brenda. Dorian thought on it as he finished up and made his way back to his position.


    Kens test went much as expected, he had to do a lot of explaining as to the changes he made, of which had to be tested by another vessel. ¡°Well done, Kennith, I am recommending you to the next class. You may leave to see the head of Giasynthesis for your next assignment. Master Kennith,¡± She smiled broadly down at him, ¡°you are dismissed.¡±


    Ken bowed before her and thanked her profusely. He walked out of the courtyard, and with Ken left the only person that took the attention off Dorian from Sister Brenda. Just do it and have it done, Dorian. He reached down to get his pots, when Sister Brenda called for Alyssa.


    Dorian stopped and stood to watch. Alyssa presented her pots and Sister Brenda used her own abilities to grow them. One was a corn, another was a very well-developed wheat, and the last didn''t grow. Alyssa''s face turned bright red in less than heartbeat. She rambled out an explanation for the first two, one with higher yield in smaller growing conditions, the second was wheat that grew faster. The third, the one that didn''t grow, was supposed to be more susceptible to Vessel manipulation.


    Sister Brenda took a moment, considering. ¡°Alyssa.¡± She paused catching the young girl¡¯s attention, ¡°I find these to be sufficient. I am recommending that you see the Head of Giasynthesis for your next assignment. Dismissed.¡± She smiled, but not as warmly as she had at Ken. Alyssa bowed, and curtly made her way back inside.


    ¡°Master Dorian,¡± Sister Brenda said. ¡°Please present your projects.¡±


    Dorian walked up, feeling the eyes of his class upon him, and presented each seed to Sister Brenda. After she inspected them, she handed them back, and nodded for Dorian to plant them. He did so and stepped away.


    ¡°Master Dorian, could you please show me your aptitude with raw Cultivation on the first plant.¡±


    Not thinking, Dorian knitted his brow and asked, ¡°Wait, I thought this test was on species alteration.¡±


    She cut him off, sighing as she said, ¡°It is Master Dorian. Just do as I say.¡±


    ¡°But-,¡± Dorian started to say but her glare was enough to turn anyone to stone.


    Dorian leaned over to the first pot, a high yielding corn stalk. He touched the soil and homed in on the seed. Like listening, he waited to feel the rhythm. When he finally though he had it right he applied pressure. In small spurts, the plant grew until it nearly broke the pot. It still wasn''t fully grown, standing more than fourteen feet tall, it would have been slender if not for the incredible bulk the cobs created. If Dorian''s estimations were right, it should have more than seventy cobs on it.


    Sister Brenda''s eyebrows lifted, which was the closest Dorian had ever been to a compliment from her. He swelled a bit with pride at the sight.


    ¡°This is impressively well done. Is there a reason you were able to grow this so much more easily than before?¡±


    ¡°Yes ma''am. I altered the seed to be more receptive to vessel manipulations, as well as increasing the height of it to make more room for corn production.¡± Dorian looked at her eyes as he spoke, not sure where else to look.


    Glaring down at him she said, ¡°Does your wheat behave in the same fashion?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°Then would you please, master Dorian, display your aptitude at raw growth on your second plant?¡± She asked, and even though it sounded like a question, Dorian knew it wasn''t a request.


    He took a knee and closed his eyes. He pushed against the sensation, it was akin to balancing a book on your head while doing push ups, and seeing as Dorian could only manage three or four, he didn''t feel all to confident in his results. When he pushed his limitations and opened his eyes, a four inch stalk had risen out of the planter pot. Sister Brenda''s glare wilted him far worse than anything he could do to the plant, and Dorian cast his eyes away in shame.


    ¡°Nice work Duh-rian!¡± Someone called out from behind him. He gritted his teeth and stood, face flushed. His nose flared and his vision came in and out of focus, so scrutinized he felt he might burst. When the laughter calmed, Dorian began to speak in a quiet but menacing tone.


    ¡°The next little fu-.¡±


    ¡°That''s quite enough, now master Dorian. Shall we see your last two projects?¡± Came Sister Brenda''s bright tone.


    The anger still on him, Dorian gave a curt nod, shaking just a bit. Sister Brenda reached her hand out, and without even touching the middle plant, it grew in to a tree of about three feet, but instead of leaves, wheat budded.


    Eyebrow raised, Sister Brenda asked for an explanation. Dorian replied, taking a deep breath or two beforehand to steady himself. ¡°I got to thinking that the amount of time it takes for someone to plant something, have it grow, then harvest it would be tiresome. With this, we just have to funnel more power in to the plants, and save the energy on re-harvesting the entire plant. Its more energy efficient for the Vessel as well as the ones responsible for harvesting the crop.¡±


    Brenda nodded, looking somewhat pleased. ¡°And your third wasn''t required to be a crop, what did you choose for your third plant?¡±


    ¡°A walnut tree.¡± Dorian replied off offhandedly.


    ¡°And what use would that be to our fellow vessels?¡±


    Dorian scratched the back of his head, having second thoughts as to whether or not this was a good idea. ¡°By all means.¡± Dorian gestured, trying to sound smooth rather than testy.


    Sister Brenda used her power and the pint-sized walnut tree grew, but instead of the green bulbs around it, there was a translucence. Sister Brenda frowned at it.


    Dorian put a finger up, ¡°Shield your eyes from the sun.¡± Dorian walked up and hovered over one of the walnuts, putting his hands over his brows and leaning in.


    ¡°I''m not amused, Master Dorian.¡±


    ¡°I think you might be, it''s much cleverer than anything I''ve done so far. Please, Sister Brenda?¡±


    She sighed, and leaned in to mimic what Dorian was doing. She stood up, an excited grin on her face. Dorian had never seen that expression on her, he didn''t even know she could smile. And there was something about that grin, something about the way her wrinkles bunched up...


    ¡°How did you? And why?¡± She seemed to pull back into herself, and her cool demeanor wrapped itself around her once again. ¡°How is this to help the Vessels?¡±


    ¡°Well, to be honest its more for the initiates.¡±


    ¡°And what would they use this for?¡±


    Dorian gave her a frank look, ¡°Have you been inside the deep Monastery, Ma''am?¡±


    ¡°Well of course I have. Young man, you are dangerously close to being stuck with me for another two years, do not deign to be so impertinent with me. Now explain to me what the initiates need this for.¡±


    ¡°Ya... err, uh yes Ma''am. It''s my belief that the hallways are too dark and dingy, I know that we live in a mountain, but I just thought a bit of light and living plants might make the place more... uh, happy? No, uh, pleasant. More pleasant.¡± Dorian took a breath, too nervous now to speak. He thought it was a stroke of brilliance, and that it would appeal to Sister Brenda as he had overheard her complaining about the dreary hallways.


    ¡°For this, I will pass you, Master Dorian. However, you will not be meeting with the Head of Cultivation today.¡± Dorian''s brow knitted in worry. ¡°Please make yourself comfortable for the next few hours, either in the classroom or out here is fine. We will need to have a little... chat.¡± She shooed him away, and Dorian left to work on some of his other studies.


    His other prime was in heat, and though he couldn''t move the fire at all, he could make ice. For some reason, when he summoned the heat, rather than banished it, he could barely get a trickle. When others could compel a small stream, he could scarcely light a candle. He was, however, quite prodigious at pushing the heat away, even Brother Wright had a hard time at even Dorian''s padded practice jacket.


    So, to pass his free time, he casually made his way over to the stacks of pots, grabbed one, then proceeded to find a scenic spot by the railing. The railing was roughly four feet in height, but as Dorian grew, he worried over whether he''d one day stumble right over. Despite the danger he allowed him to get lost in the scenery.


    He could swear he could see a man in the field far below. His outline was one of a man, shovel in hand and hat on his head. The strange thing was that he wasn''t moving. He was just standing there in a pose, about to push his shovel in the dirt. Thinking that it was likely a scarecrow, he got his pot and proceeded to form a ball of ice in his hand.


    After a few minutes of concentrating, he found he was successful in his task. He placed the sphere on top of the pot and worked off and on for the next few hours at melting it. He was marginally successful, but nowhere near where he should be at his age. It was daunting, despite his hard work in both fields he found he was skilled at the least desired task. If he ascended to ¡°paradise¡± his only chore would likely be making ice for everybody''s drinks.


    Dorian scoffed to himself at the notions. Paradise, a word used to describe what was waiting for the ascended Vessels at the end of their weeklong trek. If he was being honest with himself, he really didn''t believe it. It was likely just another Monastery, another dreary drab hole in the wall that he''d be shut in until he died. But what other options were there?


    Dorian took a break from trying to melt the sphere and stared out at the view again. Though he had never noticed before, the sun moved so slowly from up high. Looking down at the digging man scarecrow, he noted that there was now a small mound of dirt next to the man. His position seemed different too, and Dorian was confused as to who would do such a thing.


    Catching Dorian off guard, Sister Brenda announced her arrival with an abrupt clearing of her throat. Dorian nearly jumped over the stone railing, scared witness from the abrupt end of his reverie.


    ¡°Master Dorian, I do apologize, I didn''t mean to frighten.¡± She smiled down at him and looked out at the valley. ¡°It is grand, isn''t it?¡±


    ¡°Sister Brenda?¡±


    ¡°The Valley. It is a sight to behold.¡± Dorian nodded his head and took in the view once more. Sister Brenda wasn''t being her usual self, and that unnerved Dorian more than her avarice did.


    After a brief period, Dorian glanced back at the rest of the class, noting their absence. Suddenly, worried Sister Brenda was going to somehow launch him over the railing, he took a subtle step backwards.


    Noting his movement, Sister Brenda turned to him. Sheepishly, Dorian asked, ¡°you wanted to speak with me, Sister?¡± Dorian stood, hands clasped over his wrist, feet shoulder width apart. As far as he could remember, the stance had been natural to him. It was something he''d do to feel comfortable, especially in the presence of somebody he respected. Respected as a friend, and doubly so for the strength of those he considered enemies. The latter of the two reasons was why he took that stance now.


    ¡°Yes, Dorian, I''m going to have a little chat with you about Gia.¡±


    Dorian quirked an eyebrow at the statement, then said, ¡°but Sister, I already know about Gia.¡±


    A small grin quirked the corner of Sister Brenda''s lips. ¡°Please, do tell. I wish to know your knowledge base before we begin our discussion.¡±


    ¡°Well, according to the old texts, it¡¯s the force of Metae and Gwendos become manifest. It''s the pivotal force used by Priorius and Vessels to alter the world around us. It''s part of what makes us blessed.¡±


    Sister Brenda waited a moment longer before taking a deep breath. ¡°Gia is just as you say, but theology aside, it¡¯s the well that we all draw upon for power.¡±


    This made sense to Dorian, so instead of his usual flippant behavior, he kept his mouth shut and listened. ¡°I think, Master Dorian, that you have a problem with how you draw upon Gia.¡± She waited another moment, expecting Dorian to interject, but when he didn¡¯t, she continued. ¡°Most of us use the Gia that''s around us, which is why it''s so challenging to use our abilities inside. Inside the mountain, there is very little residual Gia. This is intentional, as it supplies our lights, our plumbing, and an entire slew of other amenities I don''t have time to get into. Inability to use your gifts well inside isn''t uncommon, most often you must draw upon your own Gia to accomplish anything worthwhile. It can be draining, even hazardous under the right conditions.¡±


    Dorian took a moment to digest all of this. While he did so, Sister Brenda kept going.


    ¡°I cannot teach your class anymore, Dorian. However, with the approval of our department head, I have been allowed two hours with you twice a week, to find a solution to your problem.¡±


    Brows furrowed, Dorian asked, ¡°and what exactly do you think that is, Sister?¡±


    She cleared her throat for a bit, likely looking for the right words. ¡°Most initiates upon coming into one of these courtyards will absorb a touch of the Gia and will use almost none of their own when they use their abilities. You, however, do not. You don''t do either, Dorian, that will be a very serious challenge if you ever wish to ascend.¡±


    Stunned by the statement, and suddenly worried at what was portended, he asked, ¡°but why?¡±


    He got an eyebrow instead of a reply. ¡°Why help me, I''m not your star student, and pardon me saying it, but I''m constantly terrified I''ll piss you off.¡±


    For a moment her eyes widened, then she burst into laughter. It was real laughter too, nothing haughty, there were even a few unladylike snorts in there.


    ¡°We''ll be working on etiquette too,¡± she said, laughter still bubbling through. ¡°Oh, young man. You remind me of another young man I knew many years ago.¡± She smiled as she quieted down, suddenly somber.


    Dorian glanced away as she grew suddenly serious. That''s when he noticed the scarecrow far below, it had moved again. His new pose was of somebody drinking water from a flask, the shovel now stuck in the dirt next to him. Dorian knitted his brows at the oddity.


    Sister Brenda glanced down, following Dorian''s gaze. Squinting, she looked closer. ¡°You can see him?¡±


    ¡°Well, barely. I can make out the shovel and the shape of his hat but not too much else.¡±


    ¡°You''ve got excellent eyesight, I''m envious. If I didn''t know Patrice was weeding the fields today, I wouldn''t even know what that dark smudge was.¡±


    ¡°Patrice? That''s a real person down there?¡± Looking concerned she nodded. ¡°Why is he striking poses then, I thought he was a scarecrow.¡±


    A knowing look passed over her face. ¡°Ah, that would be the distortion field.¡±


    ¡°The what-a-whatta?¡± When Sister Brenda scowled, Dorian rephrased, ¡°I''m afraid I don''t know what a distortion field is, Sister Brenda.¡±


    She took a moment, then nodded. ¡°Much better Dorian. The distortion field is the visible difference in our time barrier. Before you ask about that I''ll make it simple. In the Deep Monastery, the Grand Elder has cast a field around the whole of the mountain to speed the time initiates take in training. The incredible part is that there isn''t a counterpoint, nor any bleeding at the edges of the barrier, both things that should exist. There''s never been quite the master of the divine arts as he.¡± She spoke with a little bit of awe in her voice.


    Though Dorian had never met the man, he had heard astonishing things about him. Oddly, Dorian became very uncomfortable every time the old man was mentioned. He didn''t understand why.


    ¡°To answer your other question, Dorian.¡± Dorian raised a brow, then he remembers. ¡°Yes, Sister Brenda. I was inquiring as to why you''d be willing to go out of your way to help me. I don''t believe I''ve been the best of students, and I know in some areas of study I''ve been... lackluster.¡±


    She nodded, and grinned that familiar grin, ¡°Let¡¯s just say, I have a penchant for Kressian dumplings.¡±

 Chapter 14 - Kurts Story, Part 1

    The garrus were never intended to grow so rampantly. They were my earliest attempts to filter off some of my own excess Kraken, the natural fauna incapable of taking much. They had to be designed in such a way as to ensure they wouldn''t die, the Kraken finding him every time one of the natural beasts would die. The sight unnerved too many, and there was no way I could stop it. To ensure that the sheep were left ignorant, I made the garru. That was until I met a prodigy vessel, one so gifted in his main prime that it could rival my own. That wouldn''t do.


    Just when Kurt thought the day was going to be a fun one, some bastards from Kresson drop a fat pile of bear scat right in the middle of it. Kurt grinned to himself as he made various tracks around the tree line, heading to several different places that made no sense. He hoped they''d lose half the day climbing trees or checking dead ends.


    For all the fabled toughness acclaimed by the Kressian dogs, they weren''t on the golden fields of Kresson, they were in the Wilds. This was Kurt''s domain, here he was a god. ¡°With a little ¡°g¡±.¡± Kurt said aloud, as though the Gods were listening.


    He had been informed at the trapper''s trade house that they should be wary of anybody they didn''t recognize. With the rumors stirring around Kresson, and the proximity Metan was to them... well, it simply didn''t bode well. With what had happened earlier, and now the eminent need for escape, finding Dorian was exactly what Kurt didn''t want to do.


    He brushed off the thought, what he wanted to do didn''t matter. His ward, his little brother, was by himself with an enemy Priorius on the prowl. That didn''t bode well either, but the hand you were dealt was the only one you could play.


    Though Kurt never mentioned it to Dorian, his mother was regularly on high guard when it came to Dorian. There was little to nothing Kurt knew that his mother didn''t, including Dorian being a Priorius. It was Kurt''s duty to protect his brother, and in doing so, protect his family.


    Their mother had lost too much in her life, all her brothers in a fire when she was just a youth, and her only sister to the Monastery just after they had met his father, Rand. Hers was a life that had been filled with the pain of loss, and nothing short of Gwendos himself showing up could stop Kurt from fulfilling that obligation to his mother, or to his family.


    Regardless of his duty though, he would fend off Gwendos himself if he was after Dorian. His little brother had always been a place to vent and blow off steam, even as a youth he listened to every word as though Kurt was all there was to the world. Dorian did that to everybody, made you the center of his universe when he conversed with you. That was Dorian, despite the priests telling everyone Priorius were different, all Kurt could see was his friend and younger brother. If Priorius were born with their personalities fully developed, then the Gods must know what they were doing because Dorian landed with the people he was meant to be with. Even if he hadn''t been blood kin, though he undeniably was, he would have been just as loved in their house. Cook or Hunt, it didn''t matter, Dorian was family.


    Kurt wasn''t the greatest Hunt of all time, though he thought he would qualify for most prodigious. Only time would tell, and it was this sentiment he kept at the forefront of his mind as he found the tracks Dorian had left. He skulked, keeping to the balls of his feet as he stepped in the imprints Dorian had left.


    As he finally made his way off the snow and on to the rocky surface, he heard shouting far off in the distance. It was unintelligible, but if they were close enough to hear they were close enough to catch up. Bear scat.


    Looking about in the general area, Kurt had to put himself in Dorian''s shoes. I''m fat, short, and have no idea how to use the godly powers I''ve been granted. I have a magic furry slug that can keep me warm in a pinch, and I''m a bit of a chicken. Okay, something with shelter from the wind, possibly hidden in plain sight, yeah, that''s how Dorian would do it. He would do the overly obvious thing.


    It wasn''t that Dorian was stupid, far from it. He was clever, clever in the way that made him tactically unexpected. A few times when sparring staves, Kurt noticed that Dorian liked to abuse the method of being obvious. That''s what Kurt named it in his head, and it had helped him win a bout with Master Kel. Do a thing that''s too obvious, make it look like you''re using one technique to bait, assuming the other person would see it as a farce. Then simply strike the unguarded opponent. By doing the overly obvious thing your opponent guards against what you might be intending, when all along you were intending to do just that thing. When Kurt sparred against Master Kel, he kept his staff low for an obvious trip, something you would only do to the most basic of novices. Master Kel guarded for a backwards overhead, leaving his feet exposed for a trip. Thanks Dorian.


    It¡¯s with this mode of thought that Kurt spotted a tiny alcove with a small drop off, the rocks at the back blended in color so well that he almost didn''t notice it. He had to do a double take, but was certain it was where Dorian was.


    ¡°Dorian?¡± Kurt gave a harsh whisper as he approached the drop off. Ohmer popped up out of the pitch-black, attack ready. His hackles were up, but just as Kurt was going to say something Dorian came out looking pale.


    ¡°Oh, thank the Gods, Kurt, it''s just you.¡± Dorian sounded terrified. Being hunted in the woods was a terrifying situation, let alone after sunset. There were safehouses throughout the Wilds that every trapper had to memorize to be allowed to hunt new grounds, and Kurt knew they would be lucky to make it there by second moon.


    ¡°Shh, I don''t know if they''ve caught on yet, but we have to move. I want to get out of this area, especially before it gets late. We don''t want to spend the night in the Wilds, not even in winter.¡± He turned to inspect the tree line, hoping nobody had seen this trail yet, or the tree line for that matter. They likely had scouted the area already and knew that any escapee would likely try to hide their tracks. That left two options, the rocks or the stream. Unfortunately for team Hunt, they needed one to get to the other. The stream forks down the way which can get them about an hour¡¯s march from the safehouse.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Kurt, I wanted to tell you,¡± Dorian whispered, but he seemed to cut off. Kurt heard a noise, not unlike a quack, as he turned his head to Dorian. Dorian was on the ground, and Kurt sprang to action. Hopping down the hole, he looked up just as Dorian disappeared into the darkness of a tunnel.


    ¡°Dorian!¡± Kurt shouted down the tunnel, watching for any sign of movement as he ran into the dark. Ohmer was beside him, slithering along at a surprising pace. It started humming a vibration that Kurt could feel through his chest. Suddenly, he could make out dim outlines, almost black and white. Sharp in imagery, almost no detail, but he could navigate. His pace quickened.


    He didn''t know what the Garru had done, but it had helped him somehow. Damn, he thought, I really needed to get one of those.


    Kurt saw a curve ahead and slowed in order to make the turn. As he came to the edge he saw a swift motion, and a thud followed. ¡°Hey!¡± Kurt couldn''t make them out well, but he saw the outline of two people, maybe wearing helmets? It didn''t matter, because as Kurt approached, they disappeared. He came to a stop, as did Ohmer. He looked about until Ohmer came to an edge, then hummed loudly. He could see it, an indentation, just soft earth. Stepping on it, he heard it rip. Rip?


    Reaching behind his belt, he pulled his hunting knife. Stabbing down, he penetrated the two inches or so of soft earth to find a some kind of cloth material. It gave with little effort after it had been slashed a few times. When it finally gave, he assumed to be able to steady himself, at least get a look at this hole. He might be brash, but he wasn''t stupid.


    Despite this, he found that he was sucked under with sudden ferocity, a pressurized suction pulled at him so intense that he barely could make a sound before he was pulled below. There, he was sucked down a smooth narrow tunnel, about the width of four people standing abreast. If there was anything else to be seen he couldn''t tell, he was suddenly moving so fast that even his black and white vision seemed to fade. Kurt used to have nightmares like this when he was a boy, then he smirked at the thought. Though he tried not to, he couldn''t help but let out a small laugh as he plummeted at unbelievable speeds. There was a trickling of water underneath him, between that and the now wet lichen, he had to be moving at deadly speed. The laughter that bubbled out of him earlier started to seem more and more stupid by the moment.


    The water began to thicken as the angle of the fall shifted, then again. Slowed by the curve of the tunnel, the top opened, revealing for a moment torches in sconces lining the walls. That was until the brightness of the torches left him light-blind. He shut his eyes as the water slowed him. His winter gear was going to be soaked through, he hoped to get out of the water as swiftly as possible.


    Suddenly, Ohmer rushed past. Faster than you could throw, he zipped through the water leaving a wake in his path. It turned about twice in the water then chose where to land. Kurt stood and began walking over. His under pants and boots were both coated in beaver, very water resistant. Remembering himself, he searched about, spotting his line staff that had indeed made the journey with them. He needed it to get out of the water quickly, but it had been smoked and charred. There wouldn''t be anything to worry about for a time yet.


    Pulling it out of the water, he inspected it briefly, before tugging on the small bulb at the bottom. Squeezing it taught before it dried was important, you didn''t want to end up with a crooked point. He straightened it as best he could while moving to Ohmer. Whomever took Dorian wouldn''t be getting the chance to explain themselves.


    Ohmer shook himself off for a moment longer and slithered along, bobbing his antennae as he moved. The sight of the thing was somehow becoming a comfort to him, despite it scaring the hell out of him that first time. He knew he could trust Dorian with anything, but Kurt often wondered how much of that display was real, and how much just for show.


    Kurt followed hotly behind, his boot not as sopping wet as he had expected, but still managed to make a squashing noise every stride. That wouldn''t be good for what they were doing. He gave a loud ¡°Psst.¡±


    He stopped, reaching down and unlacing his boots. He shirked off his heavy winter jacket to find the passage quite warm. He grabbed his staff and leather sack off his jacket. As he put the straps across himself from his sack, he kicked his boots off. Once he had, he gave his sack a squeeze to eject any extra water, then tossed it behind himself. He hooked his left arm through a cord on the opposite side of the sack and grabbed his staff. He gestured to Ohmer, ¡°lead the way,¡± he whispered in hushed tones.


    Barefoot wasn''t preferred, but when you were skulking through the woods in the middle of boar mating season, it was the safest option. Or anything''s mating season really, the Wilds were just that, wild. Be astonished later, the most important thing at any moment was knowing your objective, which could cost you your life in situations like this. Alert, attentive, quiet.


    Ohmer wound his way through spacious tunnels, Kurt doubted he could jump to the ceiling, and the floor had undeniably been leveled. A curious part of him wondered at how old this tunnel could be but shoved it aside. The torches on the walls were becoming more spaced as they continued, the light now growing evermore dim.


    Ohmer took a sharp turn, and Kurt had to hurry to catch up. Directly ahead was a seven-foot-tall stone archway, Dorian lie sprawled out behind it face down. Kurt rushed over to him, Ohmer humming a sad sound as they approached.


    ¡°Dorian,¡± Kurt whispered as he stopped short, slowing to get to his knees. With a grunt, he pulled Dorian onto his back. He had a small gash on his head, but he was still breathing. Kurt began slapping his face lightly, trying to wake him, doing the best to hold back how frantic he felt. ¡°Come on Dorian, you don''t want to sleep your whole day away, right?¡± Kurt spoke softly as he slowly began hardening his slaps.


    Just as Kurt was really going to vent some teenage frustration at Dorian, Ohmer suctioned himself into Dorian''s hand. That was always creepy.


    Dorian sat up, gasping. ¡°Dorian, it''s me Kurt. Are you hurt? Can you move?¡±


    Dorian was looking around, eyes slitted. ¡°Kurt?¡±


    Just as Dorian finally spoke, the sound of clanking came from behind him. Two men had shut a gate that Kurt hadn''t noticed on the archway. He stood, brandishing his pointed stave. He came to the bars, trying to rip the gate open. It was locked tight, but he could see and hear two people walking away. The sound wasn''t anything Kurt had ever heard, they were clicking.

 Chapter 15- Friends and Competitors

    He was, by all accounts, the most gifted vessel I had seen in these last two millennia. I had to tap into the reservoir before I had him, but like all others he fell before my iron control on the Gia. Knowing it to be a waste of such a fine biological specimen, I had to make some... alterations. I shut his access off to the unclotted Gia, leaving him only capable of drawing on his own source. For all his capacity, he was even better than the Garru at storing my Kraken , and for a time I was sane again. For a time.


    Dorian woke up but was too tired to jump up. He knew his nightmares might be vivid, but they were not real. As a side note, he was sick of dealing with Danny and his pissy mood, so much so that Dorian was able to keep himself from jumping up. After a time, he slipped back to sleep.


    The flashing green light that woke him always innervated him to movement. Dorian popped up and tapped the Giastone at the door. Dorian let out a hiss as the switch died at his touch. ¡°Kressor''s blackened balls,¡± Dorian cursed as he made his way to the edge of his bed. Danny whined about something or other, but Dorian did not care. He just wanted the light to stop flashing.


    Lining his feet the other way this time, Dorian crouched at the edge of the bed, heels hanging off the edge. He squatted and leaped, tapping the light ever so lightly. This time, however, instead of dimming it went out. He landed in the center aisle between the two beds, not waking Danny as he landed.


    Now, the general routine, and decorum, dictated that he should wake Danny before he left and inform a monk about the broken light. Dorian readied himself for the day, hurrying out to get breakfast, and leaving Danny to snooze the morning away. Dorian had informed a monk, but knew the monk wouldn''t get to the light any time soon.


    The lights were a relatively big deal, when you live in a stone room with no windows, time becomes questionable. Without a sun to gauge the passage of time, Dorian was regularly in the dark, pun intended, as to what time it was. Dorian grinned sheepishly to himself at the thought of Danny missing his first class, a class he had with Dorian. When he thought about it, he didn''t even know what Danny was primed in, he honestly stopped caring after Dorian overheard Danny talking about his new roommate one day in the hall.


    ¡°Yeah, at least you don''t have to bunk with the fat one. I bet he stinks. I wish we could trade out.¡± Danny had said to one of his friends as they walked between classes. Dorian realized later when he moved in with Danny that he was talking about Dorian. Since then, his general thoughts about Danny were mentally labeled under the category of ¡°fuck that guy.¡±


    Dorian made his way down the hall up the two flights of stairs to the dining hall. Dim lights strewn the walls, relatively ¡°pure¡± Giastone. It radiated a brighter color, bright enough to be considered near-white, Dorian didn''t think he had ever seen a pure white, not in this place. The dark dreary hallways were usually so tainted with a deep moss green from the Giastones that when a light was half-way white it seemed absolutely white. The stark difference became jarring at times, it gave off a bit of an emphatic field. Dorian wasn''t sure how he had noticed it, and when he had asked another initiate, Milo, about it the young man scoffed, said that Dorian was just looking around for rumors. Children and their games were amusing and all, but Dorian had been insistent. When pressed, the kid said something about some empaths say it is there and others don''t. This was a concern because Dorian was not empathic, nor telepathic.


    However he had noticed it, it really didn''t matter. The deep green lights gave him the creeps, and he swore that sometimes they darkened around him. It was disconcerting in a way that made him yearn to be outside, even if he had to read he''d rather have to do so outside of these lights and their influence. It scared him in a way that made him feel foolish, but every time the lights shifted in the corner of his eye it sent a cascade of fear down his spine.


    Thankfully, the dining hall had the best lights. As he approached, the lighting noticeably improved in quality, becoming brighter as he neared the dining hall. As the lights grew brighter, so too did his appetite. He wasn¡¯t hungry honestly before getting there but felt famished by the time he came to the open doors. It was at the center of four hallways, so pretty much every path to class branched out from there. A perfect place for a meal.


    After getting a healthy scoop of eggs, sausages, and hash, he found his usual spot. There, already eating, sat Ken and his older brother, Benny. Benny faced more challenges with puberty than many others. His had manifested as acne and used to be much worse before he started getting twice weekly treatments from the monks. Despite the treatments, Benny would have new acne daily and the days between treatments could get pretty bad. It made him a bit of an outcast when it came to the other kids near his age, Dorian didn''t mind, he liked Benny. Benny wasn''t as bashful as his younger brother, despite his rough state, or perhaps because of it. Though still polite, he didn''t have the knack to roll his shoulder as well as Ken did. That kid was the master of politeness, he could etiquette the robes off a Sister but never did so. He never had the boldness of his older brother, which was okay to Dorian too. The brothers were good folk, and Dorian was happy to be friends with them.


    They like to play card games at breakfast, which Dorian objected to at first, but later found amusing. Some mornings he''d join but more often than not he just watched. Today he watched as he ate.


    ¡°No way, eight or more.¡± Benny said.


    ¡°I say eight or less.¡± Ken replied coolly. Then slapped three cards down.


    Benny raised an eyebrow, taking all his card piles and dropping them in the center pile, ¡°I say seven or more, topsy three, all in.¡± Benny said.


    Ken smiled, ¡°you''re on.¡± Ken dropped his cards face up, presenting a one, one, and four, great luck. Dorian didn''t really understand the game, just knew that the lower the card the better, the more you could get your opponent to bet piles. Benny dropped his hand, displaying one of the other aces and a pair of twos, making five and winning the wager. Ken''s jaw dropped just as Dorian finished eating. He almost laughed out the last of his sausage, a travesty so great he dare not consider.


    Dorian smiled as he chewed, mirth written across his face. Just as he was getting up, their usual fourth finally was heading over to sit. Jack smiled like a goof when he saw Dorian making his way out to deliver his tray, Jack''s own tray stacked with more food than even Dorian could manage in a single meal.


    Dorian smiled at his friend, ¡°little snack before class?¡±


    ¡°Just a little one, need to save room for lunch.¡± Dorian just smiled and shook his head, heading over to where the other trays were stacked. There were cliques in every level of the monastery, and it seemed to Dorian that they grew more acute as the ranks grew. Anybody could step down a level, but you couldn''t eat any higher than your year. Because of this they consistently ate with their youngest, Ken, and didn''t mind a few flights of stairs to eat with their friends.


    Jack was, like the rest of them, a bit of an odd case. He was near enough to seventeen, more than half a year older than Dorian was. Jack hit puberty at an early age, in fact when Dorian first met Jack in their thermodynamics class, Dorian thought he was the instructor. His thick goatee was roughly cut and Jack regularly looked like he could use a shave, which was enough of an oddity to remove him from the most socially savvy friend groups. He was half Kressian, Dark in hair with a natural tan, and was built like he had been moving stones his entire life.


    Once, Dorian had thought it a bit of a joke and felt comfortable enough with Jack to joke with him about it. Despite Jack''s height, a few inches taller than Dorian, and Jack''s muscular predisposition, he was usually a gentle giant. That day, however, he learned the other reason Jack was a bit of an outcast.


    After Dorian had said something along the lines of, ¡°And so the god''s made Jack, because someone had to make the stones feel jealous,¡± Jack had gotten outright irate. Say this for the genetically gifted teen, he could probably break a mountain, but the guy simply couldn''t take a joke, even one under the guise of a compliment.


    Of course, Dorian came to find out his last name was Quar¨¦, his entire family had been stone workers in the Kressian hills, had been for generations. This wasn''t something most people got to know as most of them had no memory of their childhood, unless of course they were born in the monastery. It was common knowledge in the libraries however, and Jack had figured out his lineage all by himself within the first year of his attendance at the Monastery.


    Inspired by Jack''s initiative, Dorian had attempted to reference his own last name, but had found no histories of the name ¡°Hook¡± in any of the separate floor libraries.  He was confused as to why, but didn''t fight it, assuming he likely came from a nobody family. No bother, he was at the Monastery now and last names didn''t really carry any weight there.


    Dorian returned to the table, catching glares from a few initiates as he walked back. He was never able to comprehend why he experienced a sense of visual overwhelm whenever he stood before a large audience. He was self-conscious about his size, something he was regularly judged for before anyone ever knew him. Dorian believed he possessed the ability to befriend anyone, provided they afforded him the opportunity. However, such opportunities were infrequent.


    Dorian returned to the table, enjoying the company before the first class of the day. It was the fourth day of the week, which meant today he would be doing ¡°physical education¡± for the morning class and private tutoring with Sister Brenda in the afternoon.


    Dorian hated how they called it ¡°physical education,¡± because there really wasn''t anything taught once you learned how it all worked. The first hour was stretching and cardiovascular exercise. The next hour would be spent under personal preference but only had a few options: deep stretching, gymnastics, or weightlifting. Then there would be a snack break, another warm-up, and finally a random sport for the last hour or so. Teams were usually picked, captains were picked at random, but Dorian didn''t really believe that. There seemed to always be four or five of the same people to take captain, and there simply was not any way that could be random. Still, the sports were always fun, there was something about competition that always seemed to bring the best out of Dorian, it was one of the few things that made Dorian feel... not awful. Not awful was a general step up, as he always secretly felt like he was doing something wrong, like he was stepping on everyone''s toes but didn''t know any other way.


    Thankfully, Dorian had finally begun to spin himself a reputation as a surprising competitor, despite how overweight he was. When it came down to it, he simply didn''t let his fat hinder him in the moment. He was regularly afraid of being judged by others because of his size, and slowly it had been eating at his self-worth. He was aware of it, aware of the pun, but still let them both run rampant through his mind whenever he was alone. That is why he had begun looking forward to the class, it was a chance for a brief escape from the reality of who he was.


    Deep thoughts aside, he was ready to get on with the day. He grabbed Jack''s attention and gestured for them to set off. Since a vessel couldn''t use their abilities inside the gymnasium, each physical education class was only based off age and not prowess with their abilities. It was a great equalizer of sorts, and though Dorian was a big doughy boy, which was hardly a hindrance compared to his lackluster abilities as a vessel.


    Jack nodded at him, having scarfed down his meal in record breaking time. ¡°Sure you''re not gonna have an upset stomach after all that?¡± Dorian asked as Jack stood.


    ¡°Nah, I''ll be hungry again in an hour.¡± Jack smirked to himself, rubbing his belly.


    Dorian shook his head, ¡°where you put it, I''ll never know. Some of us actually have to pay a price to eat like that, and the results aren''t pretty.¡± Dorian patted his own belly.


    ¡°Some of us just aren''t made of the same stuff.¡± Jack said, offhanded but not joking.


    Dorian knitted his brow, ¡°Class-ass act Jack, remember we talked about this?¡±


    Suddenly angered at being criticized by Dorian, his eyes widened, and he spoke with a heated tone. ¡°What the hell does that mean?¡±


    Putting his hands up and pushing them down, Dorian spoke precisely. ¡°We spoke about the code word, we agreed on it, remember?¡±


    A flash of realization ran across his face, but then he put on a concerned look. ¡°You agreed to that being our code word, I didn''t.¡±


    ¡°That''s only because you didn''t offer one up!¡± Said Dorian, now grinning boyishly.


    ¡°What are you guys even talking about?¡± Benny chimed in as he stood to join the larger two. Their classes were all upstairs and they would typically walk together until they veered off to whichever stairwell or hallway they had to take.


    ¡°I''ve been making a point to our stern, stone-faced friend here, that he''s entirely too serious.¡± Dorian replied to Benny. Ken spoke up as he was gathering his things. ¡°You can be serious about certain things, Jack. It''s okay, we love you for who you are either way.¡±


    Putting on a smile, Jack mockingly said, ¡°come on guys, I''m laughable, heck I like to laugh more than any of you!¡± Jack gestured his arms out, like he was inviting the world to challenge him on this statement. Dorian loved his friend for that. Both Jack and Dorian were competitors, even if Jack was naturally gifted, Dorian was never afraid to take up the challenge. Jack almost always won everything he did, so when he gestured outward like that, Dorian understood what Jack was doing.


    Dorian sighed, ¡°Jack, it''s not that you can''t laugh, you just get a little touchy about certain subjects.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? Like what?¡± Jack asked, exasperated. He began the walk down the hall, summoning a bit of fire to light their way.


    Despite the hard time they seemed to be giving him, Jack was a good guy. He could be an elitist at times, and he never really flaunted his superior build but still presented it as factual information. It wasn¡¯t cruelty that had made him that way, it was more of an inability to bend the truth. Jack was an honest person, honest to a fault really. Sometimes his honesty put him in a poor light because he was incapable of avoiding or bending a truth in any way. That was the root of the problem, that, and the serious elitist thing. It could be disastrous, or hilarious at times, but you just had to know Jack to understand it.


    One time, Dorian had gotten worked up over some game, having lost the last point of the last bout in a tournament they had for their age group. It was a game with a feather ball that they would racket back and forth. It had been a class favorite game; one Dorian had taken to well. In front of the cheering crowd, close matched, he had lost in the final bout. He had never come so close to tasting total victory like that, and he had botched it. He granted his opponent an advantageous opportunity during the exchange and pursued multiple spikes in rapid succession. Despite executing several remarkable saves, he ultimately lost.


    Dorian held his composure until he could be alone. He was in the changing room when he broke down, found shortly after by Jack. After Dorian had calmed down, they had spoken about it. When Dorian said, ¡°I know I lost because of something I did, I could have won.¡± Jack''s rebuke was immediate and cold. ¡°You lost because she''s better than you.¡± That was it, he didn''t have any more to say on the matter. It was an abrasive truth, one that Dorian wasn''t ready to handle, it left him feeling inferior. It was a good while before Dorian had figured out what Jack was trying to do. Unfortunately, the man simply could not say anything but the blatant truth.


    Despite how this had affected Dorian''s self-esteem, he decided to educate the man on some basic rules of propriety. Maybe influenced by Sister Brenda, Dorian believed he could assist. It became clear to Dorian that his friend was so honest that he had never considered there might be situations where telling the truth was not appropriate. It is possible that Jack either found it difficult to lie or failed to register the concept. Not in simple lies, of course, but instead of more subtle things, such as guile, debauchery, disregard for social order, or any of the other more interesting aspects of life. To ensure his friend was not devoid of such rich social concepts, he had taken it upon himself to educate his friend on the fundamentals. The first step was helping his friend to stop being such a stick in the mud.


    ¡°Firstly, Jack, you need to learn how to take a joke.¡± Dorian said, gesturing at Jack as they made their way through the stone corridor.


    Getting defensive, Jack replied, ¡°hey, I love jokes!¡± Benny snorted as a response, Dorian and Ken flashing a knowing grin.


    ¡°Yes, you love jokes, but you only love them when you''re not on the bad end. Take Ken for example here.¡± They all slowed, taking the measure of Ken.


    Feeling scrutinized, he half guarded himself, crossing his arms and bunching up.


    ¡°Ya see? Ken is the nicest person I''ve ever met, but it''s an easy target to make fun of that kindness. Just because we can make fun of Ken for being way too nice doesn''t mean he''s any less of a person for being at the bad end of a joke.¡±


    Benny nodded, ¡°But you, on the other hand, can''t be on the end of a joke or you get all up in arms.¡±


    Dorian waved away at Benny, ¡°What arms, those little toothpicks he''s got there. I can barely see them.¡± Dorian was gesturing back to Jack, Jack''s scowl at Dorian was one that could scare a hell hound. ¡°Do you see what I mean Jack, we all know you''ve got arms like a great ape, but the moment someone jokes about how small they are you''re all defensive.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ken chimed in, ¡°You''ve got arms bigger than the adults, even the P.E. Instructor is envious.¡±


    ¡°Brother Michael?¡± Jack asked.


    ¡°Yep, heard him talking about you the other day. ¡°Boy is as big as a barn, strong as any beast, and hard working.¡±¡± Ken''s imitation of Brother Michael wasn''t half bad, Dorian had tried to imitate the Brother''s voice before but just couldn''t get the short words out with that much pointed exaggeration like Ken did.


    It seemed, for the moment, that Jack was beginning to comprehend what they were talking about. Seeing the rare expression of contemplation on Jack''s face was an invitation to continue, an opportunity Dorian pounced on. ¡°There are a few other things I think might help, a bit of empathy perhaps?¡±


    Ken nodded, ¡°okay Jack, just relax for a moment and I''ll make a link.¡± Ken nodded at his success.


    ¡°Alright Jack, who would win in a fight, you or Ken?¡± Dorian asked.


    ¡°I would.¡± Jack replied flatly.


    ¡°Even with your primes in play?¡± Dorian asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Jack replied just as quickly. His brow furrowed, then asked Ken, ¡°and the reason why you feel like saying that is because you believe it to be the truth.¡±


    Benny, obviously having fun with this, said, ¡°Well, under the right circumstances anyone could beat anybody. Ken here could make you so sad you''d have to sit down for a moment, and when he did, he''d bind you in weeds.¡±


    Jack shook his head, ¡°not possible. I''d burn them or rip them apart, he couldn''t stop me.¡± Jack¡¯s eyebrow raised, ¡°you think you could?¡±


    ¡°Maybe, maybe not. If we''re playing hypotheticals, I''d just put you to sleep and poison you. No need to fight.¡± This angered Jack, he didn''t really seem to be picking up the lesson.


    Dorian got between them, ¡°hold there, Jack, it''s alright. He''s not threatening you and you''re forgetting why we''re doing this. Ken feels this way because nobody wants to be told they''d lose in a fight, or be beating hands down by somebody else, it belittles them.¡±


    ¡°Why would it belittle them, it''s just the truth.¡± Jack replied.


    ¡°Jack, there are some truths you just don''t speak of, especially to the people you care about. There are some truths that nobody wants to hear.¡±


    ¡°I prefer the truth, being honest shouldn''t belittle anybody, it''s just a fact. Dishonest people are immoral, and I am not immoral.¡± Jack was getting a bit worked up again. ¡°Dorian, some of us like to live in the real world, hiding from it doesn''t make it go away.¡±Dorian sighed, hoping he was making some headway. ¡°I agree with you, I do, but announcing it doesn¡¯t make it go away either.¡± Dorian tucked his chin and raised his eyes. ¡°Then we agree.¡± Jack said, absolutely flat. Dorian shook his head in awe. He just couldn¡¯t get a win against the guy. Dorian shrugged, and grinned, ¡°class-ass act, Jack.¡± Jack laughed.


    Once the tense moment had passed, the small group walked through the halls, engaging in casual conversation and practicing their Primes. Most individuals did this, using their abilities without concern. Normally, one could only practice in designated areas under supervision, but these guidelines were often ignored. People would make superficial efforts to appear as though they were adhering to the rules by setting up or taking lunches to safe practice areas, but in truth, everyone practiced and used their abilities when unobserved. The passages in the Monastery were complex and infrequently used, allowing for five to ten minutes of uninterrupted movement. Remaining stationary for a minute or two would likely result in encountering another student, though most of them were also practicing. This behavior was treated like an open secret, suggesting it was considered improper to take advantage of every opportunity, or at least to be caught doing so.


    Eventually, Jack and Dorian left the group as they passed the right corridor, shoving each other as they said their goodbyes to the brothers. As Jack strode with Dorian, he seemed to come alive. They began posture themselves up obnoxiously, doing their best imitation of a strutting bird. Arms held out, they began a subtle competition to see which one could be more irritating to the trope. Even if Dorian wasn¡¯t broad the way Jack was, he still got a kick out of the act every time. Dorian eventually gave up as Jack began quacking every step. Their laughter was bold, and they held no remorse. They were young and larger than life, nothing could bring them down, not even the scrutinizing stare of Brother Michael as they finally made their way to the changing rooms.


    The men''s changing rooms were straightforward in design, featuring a series of cubicles designated for individuals to store their belongings. Dorian changed into his tunic and shorts after placing his robes into the cubbyhole, leaving on his cotton undershirt and shorts. Most guys didn''t bother with an undershirt, but Dorian was incredibly self-conscious about his body and had nightmares aplenty of being mocked for being shirtless in the gymnasium. Many other men went shirtless if they began sweating enough, a few wearing undershirts for modesty¡¯s sake. Dorian had taken to wearing them more out of fear than modesty, but the notion of modesty was a great concept to hide behind.


    As Dorian began putting his tunic on, Jack asked, ¡°where did you get that scar from, anyways? You''ve never mentioned it, but since we¡¯re being honest today,¡± he gestured to the scar running from Dorian''s upper shoulder near his neck down to the left side of his chest. The four lines were jagged, but Dorian seldom noticed them. ¡°Ah, that.¡± He took a breath and sighed it out. ¡°Would you believe I fought a nymph.¡±


    Jack gave him a frank look, ¡°no,¡± he said dispassionately.


    Dorian patted his hands down again, trying to hide a grin but failing, ¡°hang on, hang on. After defeating said nymph, I let her live, but in turn she burst out into tears. She said that her honor dictated that she had to commit suicide afterwards unless the victor of the duel made love to her.¡± Jack was rolling his eyes, ¡°uh huh. What does any of that have to do with the scar?¡±


    ¡°Squeeze your cheeks man, I''m getting there.¡± Dorian laughed as he got his tunic on and tied his belt. ¡°Afterwards, I felt so saddened by her beautiful visage that I allowed her to seduce me. At some point over the following three hours-.¡±


    ¡°Three hours?¡± Jack said in complete disbelief to Dorian''s nonsensical story.


    ¡°Did I say three? I meant thirteen, yeah, at some point over the next thirteen hours she left me with a little love mark. I can''t really recall exactly when, it was a blur of desperate passion.¡± Dorian waved his hand sagely.


    ¡°Okay, but really, how''d you get it?¡± Jack chuckled at Dorian''s nonsense. He was good like that, willing to play along when Dorian got long winded


    ¡°I honestly don''t have a clue. Happened before I came here, and we all know how that goes.¡±


    Jack nodded in ascent, then tilted his head. ¡°I''m surprised it''s not more recent, it looks almost fresh today.¡±


    Dorian''s brow knitted and he lifted his tunic to inspect the scar. It indeed looked inflamed, red and agitated like a fresh scar. Dorian shrugged, giving a grunt that only vocalized the vowels of an ¡°I don''t know.¡± They left the changing room through the baths and out into the hall. Jack rushed to the doors ahead, opening the door with a flourish he said, ¡°after you Sir Dorian.¡±


    With the most courteous of bows, Dorian replied, ¡°you are entirely too kind, Sir Jack.¡± Their airs of joviality were short lived, they knew, but they enjoyed it while they could.


    They were met, as expected, by Brother Michael''s stern expression. They allowed the brief moment of humor to pass, adopted a serious demeanor, and joined the rest of the class for stretches.


    The two boys were not the last to arrive, but Brother Michael always preferred they arrive early. While that seemed ideal, Dorian preferred to manage his own time rather than be under the strict supervision of the Sisters and Brothers. Consequently, Dorian often chose to delay, while Jack always enjoyed physical exercise. Dorian suspected this was because it allowed his friend to showcase his abilities, though he never voiced this observation. Given Jack''s proficiency at Heat Syphoning, commonly referred to as "Syphing," he was at the top of the class and appeared to have every advantage. Although Dorian was highly skilled at dispersing heat, he could not summon it like his friend. Jack¡¯s other prime skill was in Physicality, a category most referred to as "Brutes.¡± Dorian considered it logical that Jack''s second Prime would be physically oriented, enviously noting how some people seem to have all the luck.


    The gymnasium was a large domed room, lights nearly white lined the ceiling throughout, and three quarters of the room''s edges had seating. In the open area there was an obstacle course, several structures for them to either vault over, under or through, an area for gymnastics, and free weights off to the corner next to a massive storage closet. Inside the closet were all sorts of sporting equipment; rackets, nets, balls that varied in shape and size, flags, clubs, and much more besides.


    After finishing their stretching routine, they all lined up in orderly fashion. Boys to one side, girls at the other, all of which lined up by height. This was the part Dorian hated, the obstacle course. He had a hard time with the monkey bars as he could barely hang on to his own weight, let alone move forward. He had been working on it for the last few months but just couldn''t seem to hang on long enough to make it across. Last week he had made it three rungs in before he couldn''t hang on, whereas the rest of the class could make it across with relative ease. It was a shame for Dorian, but today he thought he might make it, as his spirits were high. He had stood up to his friend and had been worried about it for a little while now, but the real reason his spirits were high rested back in his room. Danny still wasn''t there, and every time the thought occurred to him, he couldn''t help but crack a grin.


    Not only was Danny a shit roommate, but he loved to chide people. He wasn''t breathing if he wasn''t spewing insults or taunts at people in physical education. He was wiry and thin, he had an easy time with most everything and was probably the best long distance runner in the age-group. Dorian grinned as he made his way to the bars, knowing the shit the guy would catch. He knew he should feel bad, but he didn''t, not one bit.


    He came up to the bars, grabbing the second one in, he swung one hand to the next. He halted for a moment there, his feet dangling.¡°Hook! Hurry up and fall already!¡± Gods be damned if he couldn''t get a break. Dorian moved, letting the momentum carry him, fourth bar, fifth, sixth, reaching the seventh he let go before he had a secure grip. His hand slipped, and he fell flat on his back. The air whooshed out of him, and briefly he saw stars before he saw his friend from a discomforting angle as he passed by on the bars. Bastard.


    ¡°Hook! Get your ass up and in line! Move, move, move!¡± Called Brother Michael before he bellowed at some unfortunate girl on the other side of the room.


    The rest of it came and went with regularity, and Dorian had to steel himself for the cardiovascular exercise. He hated this part just as much, but it had to be done. In line they all chanted as they ran around the long loop, up the stairs, down the stairs, and looping back around. Well, everybody else chanted as Dorian did his best to suck up all the air in the room. Life wasn''t easy for a fat kid.


    Finally finishing the run, Dorian panted and wheezed until he had finally caught his breath. The next stage of training, choice training, was always the best part for Dorian. Weightlifting was usually Jack''s choice, and Dorian was more than happy to tag along. The guy had been obsessed about it, learning everything he could about physiology and proper forms. Jack was always stronger, and it didn''t matter which exercise, but there was a sweet spot where Dorian could get more repetitions in the weight than his friend could despite Jack''s ability to throw around weights disproportionate to his size. Considering that he was 6''1, and roughly two hundred and thirty pounds, Jack could throw around a whole lot of weight.


    For all the unbelievable strength of his friend, Dorian hadn''t been a slouch either. He had put his time in over the last few years and found a regular routine of it, picking up what he could from Jack''s knowledge base, Dorian had put together a training regimen all his own. He secretly had a goal of catching up with his friend, even dreamed of passing him if he were diligent enough. Today Dorian was working on his back, mostly everything that could pull, whereas Jack almost always worked on his already huge chest.


    Dorian''s perspective on the matter came down to natural progression and being well rounded, not that he wasn''t already pretty round. Jack liked to excel, which was good and all, but only working on one''s strengths left the weaknesses falling further behind.


    So, Dorian started with dead weight, simply put he picked up weights off the floor. This doesn''t sound so challenging, but when you were picking up three hundred pounds ten to fifteen times in a bout it got really challenging. Sadly, Dorian had seen people picking up weights close to his own, despite some of them weighing a hundred or so pounds less than he did. So, Dorian had set to repetitions until he felt comfortable doing so with a relative weight to his own. He was almost two hundred and seventy pounds now, but stood only about 5''10, his weight not so well portioned as Jack''s was.


    Dorian had warmed up and was on his fifth set or so when Jack came over his way.


    ¡°Back to working on those pulls, huh?¡± Jack asked, eyeing the weight.


    ¡°Yep, I''d like to pick up the monastery one day.¡± Dorian reply with a grin, feeling a bit cocky.


    Jack gave a ¡°hah!¡± in response while shaking his head. ¡°Not if I lift it first.¡±


    Just then, Dorian caught the sound of shouting just outside the gymnasium doors. The rest of the initiates there quieted to catch the sound, but it was mostly unintelligible. After a series of curses obviously from Brother Michael, Danny burst into the gymnasium, face beet red. Dorian did his best to hide his smile, but Jack could see right through it. His eyebrows drew together in a quizzical expression.


    ¡°Ass-class room-mate.¡± Dorian whispered.


    Realization dawned on Jack''s face, and he couldn''t help but let out a muffled laugh. This was the only catalyst needed to draw Danny''s attention to the two, and he stormed over their way, his face a thundercloud of anger.


    Pointing a finger at Dorian, Danny came up close. ¡°You fat fucking bastard-¡±


    As soon as the word fat left Danny''s mouth, Jack stepped up, just as close as Danny but standing to Dorian''s side. He cut off Danny as he spoke, low but heated.


    ¡°What did you just say to my friend?¡± Jack''s head tilted, his eyes going wide.


    ¡°You fucking heard me, this doesn''t concern you.¡± Danny''s gaze went back to Dorian. ¡°I should kick your ass you cow.¡± Dorian''s expression moved to confused because he had never heard the word ¡°cow¡± before, but his attention was snatched back to Jack. His chortled laughter couldn''t be contained and finally he burst out in uproarious laughter. He started laughing so hard that a bit of a spittle flew out of his mouth, and many others, Dorian included, started laughing with him. His laughter was infectious, and whether everyone else was laughing with him or at him it didn''t matter.


    ¡°What''s so Gods damned funny?!¡± Danny''s voice spoke over the laughter.


    Speaking through fits of laughter and gasping for air, Jacks said, ¡°you couldn''t¡± he gasped again, ¡°fight your way¡± another outburst of laughter, ¡°through wet paper!¡± He pointed, and bent over double, this time Dorian''s laughter boomed out with his friend. Mostly because Jack was well known to be a stony figure and the comical sight of somebody most people knew to be stern doubling over with laughter as spittle flew from his mouth, that was just too much for Dorian. The lessor reason was because, despite Danny''s outrage, Jack was right. That was Jack, honest to a fault, Gods bless the man for his faults.


    As Dorian could no longer support himself, he held a hand on Jack''s meaty shoulder. Between his own bouts, Dorian said, ¡°Class-ass!¡± The laughter between the two was beyond control now and Dorian let go of his friend¡¯s shoulder, sitting down next to his weights, hanging on to them as he tried to settle himself. As he did, Danny, still red in the face, walked up to Jack. He slapped Jack across the face, and the laughter died like hitting a Giastone switch.


    ¡°Wet paper.¡± Danny said to Jack, as Jack''s head had yet to move from the slap.


    Like a great cat, Jack pounced. Grabbing Danny by the shirt he tossed the inferior man to the floor. He was behind Danny in an instant and began pummeling. Haymaker after haymaker, Jack struck Danny across the back of the head as the smaller teenager began to huddle up into a ball. Jack reached out grabbing the back of Danny''s neck and began vigorously beating in the back of his skull. Dorian, by this time, had made his way to his feet, pulling his friend off the now defenseless Danny.


    ¡°Jack, you''ll kill him,¡± Dorian shouted as he pulled his friend up. Jack moved to get back to it, but Dorian grabbed him in a bear hug, doing all he could to hold back his ridiculously strong friend.


    Jack shouted from behind Dorian''s shoulder, flailing an arm as he shouted, ¡°how dare you?! If you ever touch me or my friends, I''ll snap you in half! Do you hear me you worthless Gwendian dog?!¡±


    When Brother Michael had finally made his way to the scene the damage had been done. Dorian was trying to calm Jack down, he was outraged. Dorian honestly couldn''t blame his friend, for all the things Jack was, he was very proud. Jack was a friend, and felt they had a mutual respect, but pride set close to the core of Jack''s being where it wasn''t so close to Dorian''s. Dorian could be proud at times but could throw it away just as quickly if the need arose, Jack simply couldn''t do that. It wasn''t true to his nature, and Dorian would never fault the young man for it.


    ¡°Jack?!¡± Brother Michael shouted.


    ¡°Brother Michael.¡± Jack responded, unabashed.


    Brother Michael stormed over, pulling Jack off to the side. He shouldn''t have bothered, the gymnasium had an amphitheater effect which made no conversation honestly private.


    ¡°What in the Gods names were you thinking? At the very least he''s going to have a concussion, what do you have to say for yourself?¡± Michael''s tone chiding yet authoritative.


    ¡°He insulted my friend, myself, and slapped me. He shouldn''t have slapped me.¡± Jack sounded slightly chastised, and suddenly unsure.


    ¡°You will apologize to him and leave to see Elder Donavin immediately.¡± Brother Michael stated as though it were a fact.


    ¡°Where is Elder Donavin, sir?¡± Jack asked.


    ¡°Eight floors up, east wing.¡±


    ¡°Can I change and shower before I go?¡± Jack asked, sounding oddly timid.


    He nodded, and Jack turned heading for the lockers.


    ¡°Quer¨¦!¡± Brother Michael bellowed. ¡°Apologize!¡±


    In a mellow and clear tone, Jack said as he looked to Danny, ¡°I apologize for beating you like the fool you are. The goat should know not to bite the wolves.¡± Jack turned and took his leave. Dorian moved to go after him but was intercepted by Brother Michael.


    ¡°Hook, you won¡¯t be going anywhere. Your class isn''t over, and despite what happened, your friend is the one who acted. He''ll be paying the consequences.¡± Glaring at Dorian he said, ¡°let be a lesson. This is what happens when your friends fight your battles for you.¡±


    Dorian was about to protest when his instructor said, ¡°You know, you should be the one going to see Elder Donavin, not Jack. Go get your snack and get ready for today''s sport.¡± There was a note of disappointment in his voice, and it hit Dorian in a place that felt unguarded.


    Dorian was pensive for a moment, and began stewing in self-loathing over how it all went down. Before he had gone far, he asked ¡°Who is Elder Donavin, sir?¡±


    ¡°The Elder in charge of disciplinary action, now go, take your break and line up.¡±


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    He joined the class in their break, though not in spirit. Dorian didn''t have any other friends there, few cared for resistance training the way he and Jack did, and most everybody looked at Jack when it came to the subject. Dorian had prided himself on his own knowledge base and had done his own research in his off hours. He hadn''t done so to appeal to more people, but it did hurt when nobody cared about his opinion on the matter. Furthermore, Dorian never cared for popularity, but he had never noticed how alone he felt in his age group, with Jack gone he didn''t really have any place among them.


    As Dorian sat alone, he brooded over what had happened, running it over in his head as he ate. He snacked on an energy blend, a paste of what he suspected to be soy and honey that had been sandwiched between two crackers. He laughed at himself as he envisioned his friend laughing hysterically. At that moment Danny walked in from, Dorian assumed, the onsite healer¡¯s office. Dorian had witnessed several injuries during their exercises, but not once had the initiate remained injured, almost always returning to class. Excusing yourself from physical education was tough, as the Sisters and Brothers believed it improved their abilities as Vessels. Hence, they had an on-site healer. Dorian could never remember the Prime''s official title; everyone called them healers. Regardless, Dorian knew he¡¯d have to face his unpleasant roommate for the rest of the class, and without his friend¡¯s companionship.


    Danny glared at Dorian, but Dorian found that he once again couldn''t care less. He raised an eyebrow back at Danny, their eyes meeting, but Dorian refused to look away. Making a disgusted face Danny looked away and joined the other initiates to, presumably, talk behind Dorian''s back. Dorian rolled his eyes as the gangly asshole joined his friends. Dorian could be snooty about some things, he had his morals, but Danny was snooty towards everybody he didn''t care for and accepting to anyone he thought could win him favor. Danny was as shallow as they came.


    ¡°Today will be a special competition,¡± came the echoing voice of Brother Michael. ¡°Today we have something very special in store for an upcoming event outside the monastery. The details of which aren''t to be worried over, however, for those that qualify in the top three there will be perks. This will not have any effect on your current studies, excepting this course. Those successful will be taking a different course for the following few years and will train with other classes that qualify.¡± The rest of the class had quieted as he spoke, many initiates curious but not overly interested.


    ¡°I see I haven''t really incited your desire, so let me say this, for the victorious today you will be given the opportunity for glory. You will be given the opportunity to compete in front of the entire valley, in the Colosseum!¡± A few initiates eyes went wide at the notion. Initiates were never to leave the monastery, furthermore, they were never to be visited by their past. It was against general doctrine and break in that protocol was unheard of.


    Some initiates now looked excited. ¡°Finally, and this is key, success in front of the valley grants two rewards, guaranteed ascension,¡± he paused to let that settle in a moment. There had never been a way to circumvent the final judgment. Some initiates went mad from the anticipation, as the final judgment only happened after the initiates eighteenth year but had no set time. There also weren''t any details as to how the judgment took place, only that many of those that ascended were considered knowledgeable, capable, and had a strong grasp on their abilities as a vessel. Those that didn''t ascend would stay, becoming laborers or serving slop. The worst had to recycle septic tanks for the rest of their days, including the septic contents for fertilizer. No, a life of cleaning shit wasn''t anything anyone wanted, being prepared for judgment was the whole reason they were there. The training in their Primes, the studies, the exercise, the rearing of Vessels, all of it. One reason, the final judgement, and everyone, Dorian included, knew he wouldn¡¯t qualify.


    Eliminating the need to worry and train, a guarantee to ascend? That was everyone''s goal, and the more Dorian thought about it, the more he realized that this may be his best shot of ascending at all. He was the weakest in both of his primes in each of his classes, even if he was disproportionately strong in the inversion to each, his control of his Primes was equivalent to that of someone five years younger.


    After a brief while, Brother Michael continued. ¡°The other reward will be a boon, from none other than the Grand Elder himself. With this in mind, I hope you do your best today but fret not if you don''t find success here. From what I understand there will be more than one sport, and since there is time to train, we are seeking the most naturally talented. There will be little training supplied before today''s contest, and this is only the first step of several to make your way to the Colosseum, but for those of you that find success,¡± he raised his hand and made a fist, ¡°you will never come to know a greater rush than holding the center stage in front of tens of thousands.¡± Brother Michael''s grin was savage and reckless, which made Dorian wonder whether the man was speaking from personal experience.


    There was a quiet now, a sense of anticipation that ran through every initiate. ¡°Today, we compete with the battle staff.¡±


    Brother Michael smiled broadly, gesturing to the small closet. ¡°Two lines please,¡± he said as he began walking to the storage room. He unlocked it, and said, ¡°if there aren''t two lines, by sex and height, by the time I unlock this door, you''ll be doing run aheads for the next hour instead of competing.¡± That got everyone''s attention, ¡°run aheads¡± involved a jogging line where the one in the back had to sprint to the front before that person could match pace with everyone else. They were a miserable workout, one that was only invoked if someone really messed up. The lines came together in record breaking time, Brother Michael turned looking pleased.


    ¡°The stronger sex will take their staves first, I will find an appropriate staff for each of you before we begin. The staff fit for you will be as close as we can come before official training. This class has more than sixty here, and we don''t have time to waste. Let us begin.¡±


    The first in the boy''s line started walking towards the doors to the storage locker. ¡°Initiate Calisto, what do you think you''re doing?¡± The brother asked, raising his tone and eyebrow together like they were somehow connected.


    ¡°Uh, you said the stronger sex, Brother Michael.¡±


    ¡°I did.¡± A moment passed where nobody spoke. ¡°You presume much young man. You may be able to pick up a few hundred pounds, but do you think you''re strong enough to push out a child?¡±


    Calisto''s eyes went wide as he shakily looked about the gymnasium. Humbly, he bowed his head to the young Woman. ¡°My apologies, I indeed yield to the stronger sex.¡± Dorian was dumb, but he could see that set up a mile off.  Despite the Grand Elder being male, their society was a matriarch, the lowest of the Sisters still outranked the highest of the Brothers. Though it wasn''t always fair, it did seem more functional in Dorian''s eyes.


    Though the opposite sex was becoming more enticing to him by the day, he had yet to grab the eye of any of them. Dorian hadn''t tried, and figured he''d simply save himself the embarrassment. He knew he hadn''t caught any of their eyes because he was odious to them, overweight as he was. He had heard women were more interested in confidence, but every young man that had that kind of ¡°confidence¡± was an arrogant selfish ass. If being like them was what attracted a woman, he''d simply remain single. That type of person, like Danny, only really cared about themselves. Even allying with such a person was tantamount to betraying his own morals, something he thought superseded any other law he could think of.


    The women filed into the storage room as the young men waited quietly in line. As the women passed, they eyed Calisto with glares ranging from contemptuous to provocative. Say what you would about confidence, but Calisto didn''t need it. The women regularly gawked at him, swooning despite him being the shortest in the class. Caitlin, a gorgeous older initiate that was surprisingly popular despite how bawdy she could be, had proclaimed that Calisto was ¡°a fine piece of meat.¡± One that she apparently wanted to ¡°sink her teeth into.¡± Though she was a bit crude about her comments, Dorian could tell she wasn''t the only one who held such an opinion. Sadly, Dorian always thought that Calisto was polite but about as daft as they came.


    The women eventually trickled out one by one, taking their typical places in the open area of the gymnasium. Dorian noted that most of the staves had little to no ornamentation, were thin and straight and likely made of linewood. He had learned that the wood was reputedly rare and known to flourish primarily in the Wilds. They spoke often of the Wilds in another weekly course, History of the Valley, and how it contained a vast expanse of thick vegetation that even the Grand Elders of old couldn''t contain.


    Finally, the men were allowed to file in. As Jack was no longer there Dorian was one of the last to enter. Each stave had been placed in an upright holster, long racks ran down the walls. He had never seen them here before and assumed they must have been dragged out of some kind of deep storage. He headed straight to the back where the longer ones were, assuming he''d be able to wield them appropriately. Some of the staves, on closer inspection, had lines running down them. Intrigued, Dorian moved to pick one up when Brother Michael spoke quietly behind him.


    ¡°No need for that master Dorian, I''ve already picked your battle staff for you.¡±


    Dorian raised an eyebrow at the man but didn''t protest. ¡°Yes sir, may I have it?¡±


    Placid in his expression, a rarity for Brother Michael, he gestured for Dorian to follow. He spoke as they walked. ¡°Seeing as you were the center of the incident earlier, your partial punishment will be competing with the poorest of qualities. Do you know why that is master Dorian?¡±


    ¡°Because when I put myself in front of the class, the class puts me last.¡± Dorian replied without thinking. This hadn''t been the first time his own actions had put him in this boat.


    Once when another boy, Atticus, had called him stupid, not directly but he implied it with enough venom after losing that week''s sport that Dorian had taken it personally. Knowing Atticus to be confident and frustrated with the stereotype linking Dorian¡¯s size to his intelligence, he had interfered with Atticus''s visit to the weightlifting area.


    Atticus always had to have the nicest things for himself, since he wasn''t very tall he usually had early picks. Dorian had been doing an exercise that involved picking a weight off the floor and bringing up to his chest, the old books on exercise described it as a clean but most people just called them floors, likely because if you did enough in a row that''s where you''d end up. Dorian had been showing off, doing floors with roughly half his own weight, about as much as Atticus himself weighed. Dorian had taunted the other boy, inciting him to try out the exercise.


    Knowing Atticus thought himself too good to touch the same bar Dorian was using, he had removed the sand from one side of the weights, leaving it disproportionately off balance. When he exploded upwards, one side nearly flew while the other stayed on the ground, and Atticus landed squarely on his backside. Most the other people lifting that week had burst out in laughter, mostly due to Dorian''s taunts, but also because others had been tired of Atticus'' attitude as well. As he lay on the ground, stunned, Dorian said something along the lines of ¡°who''s the fool now?¡±


    Jack was furious with him for pulling the prank to prove a point, but no matter how much guilt Jack threw at Dorian, he could care less. That ass got what he deserved, but when Brother Michael had caught wind of it, Dorian had done he had exacted a price that would be paid in full.


    Brother Michael had brought in crude stones, unbalanced, with holes drilled in them to set to the bars. He informed the class that if Dorian were caught using any other weights, he''d spend the next month with the long distance runners. So, Dorian paid the price, using the ungainly weights for the next six months. Even the smaller weights were sacks of cloth that Dorian had to load with smaller stones, hoping to get the weights to match but were never truly even. It drove Dorian half mad and had torn his hands to shreds, but that was how Brother Michael was.


    So, as the Brother led Dorian out of the storage room, most the men already lined up, he made an example of Dorian.


    ¡°Before we begin, let this be a reminder to those of us that decide to create problems for this class. Physical exercise is crucial for the progression of your gifts. When somebody doesn''t take it seriously, she or he will pay the consequences. This line staff was found two years ago. We haven''t turned it in to paste as we have no idea what kind of treatment it¡¯s had, and judging by the discoloration on the end, something likely died or defecated on it. Master Dorian, remember this the next time you decide to make trouble for me. Not only that, but your friend is going to miss a fine opportunity. Let this be a symbol of what it costs to let me or your friends down.¡± His voice carried across the gymnasium, and Dorian''s face reddened in embarrassment. Picking up a staff wrapped in linen, he uncoiled it and presented the staff to Dorian, taking ample precaution not to touch the disgusting thing.


    It had dark spots at the bottom with a flat stop there, like it had been seared off. At the top a large chunk was missing and it had a distinctive yellow hue. Dorian stared at it, and for a second his vision blurred. The world seemed to spin as he took shallow breaths. He felt like he was going to wretch, he felt like a hammer was pounding out the back of his skull. ¡°It is disgusting. Come now, take it Dorian or you''ll be disqualified.¡±


    Dorian shook his head trying to clear it but only managed to make the sensation worse. He reached out and took the staff, as he did the world seemed to quiet. Like coming up for air after a long dive, the pounding stopped, and a calm enveloped him.


    Something, as odd as it seemed, niggled at the back of his mind. Like he had forgotten his ink pot before a lecture, something he was forgetting ached and wormed for a time.


    Clearing his throat, Brother Michael said, ¡°You may take your place in line, Master Dorian.¡± He heard a few chuckles at his expense but wasn''t bothered. He was usually at the bad end of other people''s cruelty, it wasn''t anything new to him. He took his staff and got into position but couldn''t get his eyes off the staff. The broken bit at the end, the gash that ran diagonally, the spots at the bottom...


    ¡°I will give you a brief instruction on forms, of which you will follow along to. On the sporting side, a clean strike with the broad side is worth two points, partial strikes are all only worth a single point, and clean thrust,¡± He had picked up a staff as he spoke, walking as he lectured. He thrust forward with a well-practiced grace, ¡°is worth three.¡±


    The Brother kept up his lecture having the class space themselves apart and follow along in the various stances. After nearly half an hour, he announced that most people had the basics and that they''d begin the individuals tournament. As they practiced, something in Dorian shifted. He felt good, no, better than good. He felt powerful. As he practiced his thrusts, each one getting cleaner as he went, he felt a kind of vibration from the weapon. A sensation, a dragging, niggling, tickling sensation ran up and down his spine. It felt much like the time he found a hair caught on his teeth. Dislodging it to take it out, Dorian must have sneezed at some point and it had lodged itself up his nose and into his sinuses. The sensation of pulling it out was the closest he could come to describing the vibration from the weapon. Something passed then, a low hum that Dorian could audibly hear. Dorian felt a sense of vertigo, and stumbled as his next practice strike put him off balance. Brother Michael was there however, turning Dorian¡¯s bulk in such a way to keep him on his feet. ¡°That¡¯s alright, lad.¡± The Brother¡¯s tone wasn¡¯t his normal clipped demanding voice, it was one of concern. Dorian didn¡¯t even recognize the voice until he turned to the man, nodding his thanks. The Brother walked towards the center of their class.


    ¡°Since we don''t have all day, I''ve enlisted the aid of two other well acquainted with the staff to referee the matches until we have eliminated most the class. For those that lose out early, you''re welcome to leave but I can promise you, you''ll find no better entertainment. This is the sport of the warriors of old, a lineage you''ve inherited from your ancestors hailing from the dawn of the valley. There is a reason that Gwendos and Kressor both wielded the battle staff.¡±


    Dorian tuned out Brother Michael as he noted Brother Faustus, the resident healer, and Sister Brenda, of all people. He shot her a quizzical look with a slight grin, but her only response was the slightest nod of the head. The two elders headed over to Brother Michael and took a sheet of paper from him. Sister Brenda frowned, noting something on the paper. She pointed to it raising an eyebrow. ¡°Ah, yes. We had a little problem earlier, I had to change the expected lineup. This should suffice however.¡± She nodded and made her way over to the side furthest from Dorian, Brother Faustus heading down by himself.


    ¡°Ah, one last thing. If you or your opponent exit the ring, you will recenter, however, whomever does so will lose all of their points to their opponent. At the discretion of the referee, up to five points can be distributed if the one leaving the ring hasn''t shown any initiative.¡± The initiates looked around, confused. One of the female initiates asked, ¡°What ring, Brother Michael?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes.¡± He responded, as though he had forgotten. He tamped his staff downward, and three rings of stone rose roughly an inch from the floor, each about fifteen yards across. Gods, that man was a showoff.


    Shaking her head, Sister Brenda reached into a pocket set in her robes and tossed something to the floor. Thin tendrils stretched across the floor, and everybody backed off the center floor as the cork padding grew to more than half the height of the rings Brother Michael had shaped.


    He heard Sister Brenda saying something, but it was drowned out by Brother Faustus as the initiates resumed their places. ¡°First bout will be between Malik Sheer and Dorian Hook.¡± Blacked balls, of course he''d be first.


    Malik, fair-skinned with a medium build and uncommonly dark hair for a Gwendian, generally alternated between long-distance running and gymnastics but did not engage in heavy weight training. Dorian, on the other hand, had a keen interest in attempting the gymnastic routines but was apprehensive about potentially embarrassing himself. Malik, on the other hand, only really partook in whatever was more popular. Dorian didn¡¯t really judge him for it, to each his own Dorian figured.


    Malik and Dorian made their way to the center of the circle in front of their referee. Brother Faustus raised his hand waiting for quiet. Dorian couldn''t hear anything but his pounding heart. The staff in his hands felt so... right, but the fear of further social stigmatization concerned him. He was tired of being the whipping post for everybody''s amusements. ¡°Clean bout, no crotch shots, no lethal action. Touch staves,¡± they did so, holding the position. With a flourish, he whipped his hand down shouting, ¡°Begin!¡±


    Malik wasted no time, likely trying to use his speed to his advantage. In an offensive stance, he whipped out a sideways strike, Dorian moved to block the blow. As their staves met, and the vibration ran through his hands something happened. An image danced across Dorian''s mind, an older boy, grin plastered across his face. It spoke of mischief and cunning, of daring like a fool and reveling in the glory of bravery. It spoke of warmth and acceptance, but also of challenge. Not the kind of challenge between rivals, but a playful and whimsical challenge, one that meant the world in the moment but nothing when it was over. Then it was gone, the only thing that remained was the reckless grin plastered across Dorian''s own face.


    Rebounding from the blow he knew what to do. Allowing the next strike to come at him from the opposite side, he let go of the top of the staff. When the two staves met, Dorian''s twisted with little resistance, allowing the momentum of the blow to aid his transition. As the bottom of his staff came up, he grabbed it with his free hand, and thrust between his opponents legs. Now close, he leveraged the end over, and drove forward, pushing Malik off his feet as he tripped over the staff. He tried to roll, but was stabbed three times, as gently as Dorian could, and struck once to tally eleven points. He heard Malik curse under his breath, but Dorian wasn''t the kind to gloat. Once the match was over it was over, nobody liked to have their face rubbed in defeat.


    Dorian offered a hand to his opponent, and to his surprise Malik took it. They came back to the center of the ring and shook hands as Dorian was declared the victor. Brother Faustus even commented, ¡°good sportsmanship, the both of you. You''ve set a fine example. Dorian to your place, Malik, you''re free to leave or take a seat.¡±


    As they left the circle, Malik asked, ¡°Nice one Dorian, where''d you learn that?¡±


    ¡°I don''t know,¡± Dorian shrugged, ¡°It just came to me.¡±


    Malik gave a grunt of acknowledgment and said, ¡°good luck Dorian, I''m going to hang to see if you do better than I could.¡± He smiled at Dorian and patted his shoulder before heading over to the seats. Dorian decided that Malik wasn¡¯t so bad as the young man took his place to watch the next bout.


    ¡°Kintra Bale and Hunter Wheeler,¡± Brother Faustus called. Dorian heard him but wasn''t watching, down the way Danny was matched up against Calisto. Unfortunately for Calisto, despite his added muscle, Danny''s height gave him a distinctive advantage. The way the sound echoed through the gymnasium made it hard to hear what Brother Michael said after each blow, but he also raised a hand after every exchange. The last clash left Danny with three more points and Calisto only one, putting Danny up eight to four. ¡°Begin!¡± The sound of Brother Faustus''s voice was booming, and it pulled Dorian''s attention back to the bout in front of him.


    Hunter was stiff as a board, unsure in his movements, whereas Kintra was a storm of blows. Kintra was taller than most of the other women but wasn''t gaunt because of it. She was well muscled, lean, and generally took to gymnastics like a bird to flight. Her brown haired braid swinging about as she whipped her staff at Hunter. Hunter generally meant well, but wasn''t as athletic as his opponent. Hunter was well rounded but terribly average in most capacities, apparently this included dueling staves.


    Dorian looked back at Danny''s bout, seeing him circle his opponent. Calisto''s face had reddened, and Brother Michael was standing between the two competitors. ¡°Minus two points to Smith for unsportsmanlike conduct. If you want to speak ill of your opponent do it after the match, this is no place for that.¡± His brows were knit together in a thunderhead of disapproval. Dorian grinned, happy to see Danny get what was coming for a change and that trash talking wasn''t acceptable. Dorian had a hard enough time doing well in the gymnasium, he didn''t need to doubt himself any more than he already did.


    Brother Michael raised his hand and dropped it again to restart the bout, and Danny wasted no time. He rushed his opponent with a series of thrusts which led to Calisto backing away until he tripped on the edge of the ring, thus concluding the match. They went back to the center and as Calisto put his hand out to shake Danny slapped it and muttered something. Loud enough that the whole class could hear, Calisto replied, ¡°I''ll be staying here to watch you lose, asshole.¡±


    Some of the girls giggled at that, while others looked peeved. Apparently, Calisto wasn''t the only one winning favor with the women.


    ¡°And match!¡± Came the voice of Brother Faustus. The two contestants came to the center of the ring, shook hands and parted ways without any bad blood between them.


    The following half hour went this way, most matches moving quickly. Dorian wondered whether the matches had been set up to make for quicker time as in most cases there was a definitive winner. Here and there a good match would ensue, but in thirty bouts there wasn¡¯t one within four points of another. Finally, the first round came to an end, leaving thirty of them.


    The three adults left the center of the gymnasium and assembled next to the seats. There was a stone ¡°table¡± of sorts, sitting high enough for them to sit together. They discussed in hushed tones as Dorian waited patiently. Others had come together and were chatting excitedly, a few walking over to the seats to talk with some of the people that had lost. To Dorian''s surprise, not a single person had left yet, they all sat and enjoyed the entertainment.


    After some minor arguing, Brother Michael stood. ¡°Initiates, the tournament has begun in earnest. The lineups have been produced, and matches will begin shortly.¡± With a wave of his hand the stone on the opposing wall began shifting. The shapes of tournament brackets merged out of the walls, slightly green in color. As they finished, the Brother clapped his hands and the greenish stone began to glow slightly. The general pale gray of the stone behind was offset by the now brightened color, and though Dorian thought it was neat he was also tired of the older man showing off his skills. Not sure if the bitterness was based in jealousy or the Brother''s need to show off, Dorian wasn''t sure. Then the names of each contestant flowed from the wall and began to glow as well, which left Dorian sure he was sick of the swagger. As Dorian looked back at the adults he noted Sister Brenda rolling her eyes, likely thinking the same thing.


    With a sigh, Dorian found his name and saw that he''d be facing Ingrid, a blonde-haired young Woman of Gwendian birth. Despite her hair color, she had reminded him of Hunter when Dorian first came to the monastery. Dorian wasn''t nosy, so he hadn''t found a reason to inquire, until one day he had embarrassed himself in front of her by making a quiet comment to Jack about the resemblance. She had scoffed at him and called him a dolt, which is when Jack informed him that they were fraternal twins. Dorian felt like an oblivious ass, and when they were paired weeks later, he had apologized. Yes, she had called him a dolt, but Dorian could be that way about certain things, he knew. ¡°I''m sorry for being oblivious before. I try not to pry in matters that aren''t my own.¡± Dorian had said to her, chagrined. She had accepted his apology but hadn''t really cared either way. Dorian still suspected that she threw their match that day on the simple grounds that she didn''t want any level of cooperation with him, that she would rather lose on purpose than win paired with him. Later, Dorian found out that she, like so many others in the class, had eyes for Danny.


    Despite her twin''s average athleticism, she was formidable. It was like she sucked all the talent out of her brother in the womb and in an act of pity left him with enough skills to achieve average marks, rather than awful ones. If such a thing could be true, Dorian wouldn''t be surprised. She was cutthroat, vicious, and took every opportunity to lay down a swift victory in most every sport. To make things worse, she had received a bye in the first round as their class was one shy.


    ¡°From left to right, the first ten initiates are to the first circle adjacent to the brackets. The following ten to the center, and the remainder to the final circle.¡± Brother Michael''s voice was clear as most of the initiates were busy inspecting their places. Dorian headed to the center circle where Brother Michael would referee. He took a seat to the outside of the circle, laying his battered staff to the side. He began stretching knowing that he had gotten ¡°cold¡± since his last bout. As he did so, to Dorian''s surprise, Malik made his way down from his seat and walked straight to where Dorian lay.


    ¡°Tough roll Dorian.¡± Despite his words, Malik smiled and gave a small chuckle as he looked down to Dorian. Dorian nodded, not nearly as cheerful. ¡°For the sake of saying it, I think I was supposed to win our bout.¡± Dorian agreed, giving a ¡°uh-huh,¡± before saying, ¡°you noticed that too? I think they set it up that way to make better time, we''ve barely got an hour left before lunch and next class.¡±


    Malik''s face twisted in surprise, ¡°not as oblivious as you put on.¡± He smiled, then said, ¡°that''s good. It''s usually easier to give people what they expect, right?¡± A black eyebrow rose as he asked, ¡°so, do you have a plan?¡±


    ¡°Go out and do my best?¡± Dorian shrugged, unsure.


    For the first time Malik''s smile vanished. ¡°Don''t do that.¡±


    Confused by the statement, Dorian said, ¡°do what?¡±


    ¡°That,¡± Malik gestured, ¡°put on that fat kid docility. You aren''t that, maybe a few years back, but you''ve been changing lately. You''re broader now,¡± Malik gestured with his hands up, ¡°and with Jack gone you''re undeniably the strongest one here.¡±


    Dorian gushed at the mere notion of being more than the fat kid. It wasn''t high praise by any stretch, but it was better than Dorian usually got. He smirked at Malik, then said, ¡°you''re probably right-.¡±


    Malik cut him off, ¡°not probably, you are. Now be confident and think. Just because Ingrid is ferocious, it doesn''t mean she''s not thinking about how to best you. I wouldn''t be surprised if she tried to get into your head before the match. She''s faster than you, and more aggressive, but above all she''s sure of herself.¡± Malik squatted down to look Dorian in the eye, Dorian caught a wicked glint there, some conniving thought coming to the fore. ¡°Maybe, give her what she expects.¡± His smile returned to his face, ¡°it¡¯s how you got me, after all.¡± Malik stood up as Dorian pondered on his words.


    Malik turned to leave, and Dorian felt compelled to speak. ¡°Why, Malik?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± He turned his head to look back to Dorian. ¡°Why help me?¡± Dorian said inquisitively.


    He smiled as broadly as he could, not an ounce of guile in his expression or in the following words. ¡°I can''t lose first round to somebody that doesn''t get far; besides, I''m getting great odds on you.¡± He moved to leave again when Dorian asked, ¡°How great? I might want to put in.¡±


    Malik''s eyebrows shot up as he tucked his chin, grin growing even wider. He said, ¡°Twenty to one¡± in a near whisper. Dorian spoke quietly in turn, ¡°I''ve got three Vega on myself, if you''ll middleman for me.¡±


    His arms opened, ¡°If you have the coin, of course.¡±


    ¡°Not on hand, of course. I''ve got myself a small savings in the event of my loss.¡± Malik nodded, ¡°Okay Dorian, I''ll back you. I''ll check on you if you make it to the next round, see if you might want in on a bit more action.¡± He said the word ¡°action¡± with a vehemence that Dorian hadn''t expected, and worried whether or not Malik was having fun or if he had a bit of a problem with gambling. Then again, he may just be devoted to Kressor as a primary deity, Kressor was said to smile on those that gamble. Particularly, it was said to win a gamble was to also win Kressor¡¯s favor. As Dorian contemplated this, and everything else Malik had said, Malik headed up to his seat with a few others and began speaking in hushed tones. Three of them looked up from their conversation and stared at Dorian. He gave a solemn nod which seemed to appease them, and they returned to a hurried conversation.


    Dorian rolled on to his belly and began stretching his calves as others began crowding around him. He couldn''t tell who they were, all of them wearing the same exercise clothing as he, a loose wool tunic tied at the waist and wool shorts dyed a deep blue.


    A smooth voice came from behind him, the chatter of several teenage girls followed rather than the spoken words of young Woman. ¡°No, he won¡¯t be able to handle me.¡± The voice was mellifluous, but the tone spoke of stone certainty. A few more garbled words were lost to the ambiance of the gymnasium''s acoustics, then Ingrid, Dorian was sure, chortled before saying, ¡°more like a cub. He won¡¯t know what to do, he''ll just stand there docile as ever. His friend might have stood a chance, but his friend can''t fight for him now, can he?¡± The teenage chatter erupted, one of them having a giggle that sounded more akin to nails on glass than lilting laughter. Another voice sounded, the lude one, Caitlin. She said, ¡°he''ll be happy when he loses, probably the closest he''ll ever get to a woman. Just think about it, after beating him down, he¡¯ll probably think about it every time he beats himself down, you know what I mean?¡± The laughter echoed through the room, the vaulted ceiling creating a cascade of laughter, all of which was at his expense. I can handle this, he thought to himself as he switched to his other calf.


    The final blow that Dorian couldn''t take came from Ingrid''s own mouth. He knew as soon as he heard it that it would ignite his indignation every time it crossed his mind, the kind of blow to the psyche that only a humiliated teenager could understand. Ingrid said, ¡°Nancy, that''s fucking disgusting. Not even in his daydreams could docile Duh-rian handle me. If he could even find it¡± She tapered off, leaving the abruptly rude comment to linger in the air as the others burst out in giggles.


    Red faced and humiliated, he felt the small seed of confidence that Malik had set in him wither. No, Dorian thought to himself, that''s what she was planning. Just as Malik had said, she was trying to get into his head, crush his spirit and take advantage of either his presumed stupidity or his outrage. He focused on the thought, if she felt the need to do such a thing then she wasn''t sure of her victory. He stood a chance, despite her words, he could do this thing. He gripped his staff and that grin, that grin that spoke of reckless mayhem, stole onto his face. The heat he felt lessened as he stood, and he could swear he could feel that hum again.


    Keeping to the words of Malik, Dorian put on a face of utter placidity, letting his mouth open slightly, he began twisting his upper torso. The chatter died down significantly as he grabbed his staff at both ends, raising it above his head then behind his back to stretch his shoulders. He lost himself in a routine he had never learned but somehow knew down to his bones. His breathing changed, deep breathes with controlled exhales as he readied himself.


    Give her what she expects until she doesn''t expect it, he thought to himself repeatedly. Brother Michael finally called for the first fight. ¡°Atticus Weaver and Philomena Smith, to the center stage. You know the routine, clean fight and all that.¡± The two initiates made their way to the front. Philomena was a bit squat, and though she ran often, she was one of the few women to make their way to the weights section. She was likely the strongest female of their class, and was tough as nails. Atticus, however, was nearly a foot taller than the short woman. It didn''t take a genius to see where this was going. Atticus threw off his tunic before entering the ring, he loosened up his shoulders as he came to the center. Philomena was already tensed, but as soon as Brother Michael''s hand dropped, they were off.


    It was a surprisingly good match, and had nearly removed the butterflies churning in Dorian''s stomach, nearly. Still, on several exchanges Atticus was able to distance himself easily. Once when she had gotten too close, he had pushed her, then followed up with a strike. ¡°Hey, isn''t that illegal?¡± Somebody in the crowd had called, but the now stern Brother just waved it off. After the match had concluded, Atticus being declared the winner, Brother Michael spoke to the crowd. ¡°Distancing maneuvers are allowed, such as pushing or forward kicks. Punches intended to deal damage are not. I decided to address it should it come up but not before. Kicking is allowed but isn''t worth any points. Remember that initiates, because a kick can leave you exposed and isn''t worth the risk. The next match,¡± Brother Michael kept speaking but Dorian was distracted by someone coming up beside him.


    It was Ingrid, suddenly very close. She spoke clearly but quietly. ¡°So, ready for our bout?¡± She sounded almost cheery.


    Dorian looked behind, checking the brackets. They would be after this fight. Dorian looked at her briefly, then to the match, pretending not to care. ¡°I guess.¡±


    She chuckled softly, ¡°think you stand a chance?¡±


    Dorian knew he could have a temper but prided himself on controlling it. This Woman, as lithe as she may be, had deliberately infuriated, shamed, and emasculated him.  His rage simmered as he thought of her calling him a cub. He usually had control, but he came unbearably close to losing it right there.


    ¡°Of what?¡± he said, acting out the dumb brute she thought he was. Dorian glanced over, noting her attempt to completely hide her condescending smile. She tried to hide her laughter but failed.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, drawing out the word. Voice lilting she said, ¡°you don''t stand a chance, do you little cub?¡± She said it, but she said it breathy, as though she''d inspire any kind of emotional response she wanted from him. Dorian could be an animal, yes, but not the kind so easily manipulated. He thought of his mind to be primitive, but elegant. Animalistic but refined, and though the notions were contradictory, he felt he represented both in fair portions. The way Ingrid was trying to manipulate him made him feel base, and for a moment his inner animal wailed against the bars of his self-control.


    Fed up with her mockery and degradation, Dorian turned to her, throwing away his mask of stupidity and standing upright for the first time. Animal but refined, he thought as he squared his shoulders, and looked down at the young Woman. Seeing her this close, he noted that she was quite handsome, the fine features on her face traced her thin but elegant lips, her cheekbones sitting high just below large eyes. As Dorian stood to his full height those eyes widened. The grimace on his face could wilt a harvest, and the intensity of his glare displayed the fire of his very soul.


    Voice low, and quiet, he growled, ¡°you don''t know me, don''t pretend to. You''ve had your laugh, and I''m glad you have. Enjoy it. Maybe Danny will cheer for you, like he does for the rest of his harem.¡± Dorian spat as he tilted his head, ¡°maybe you''ll be different.¡± Dorian paused and pointedly looked over as Danny made his way to Sister Brenda''s circle, beginning a bout against another initiate. When Ingrid''s eyes followed Dorian¡¯s, he whispered out the intensity of his disdain. ¡°Maybe you''ll epitomize all the qualities he''s ever desired. Shallow, bitter, fickle, and secretly vulnerable for him to prey upon. Maybe you''ll be the one, you think, before he tosses you out like every other one I''ve seen leaving the dorm as I wake in the hallway, hoping he hasn''t trashed your heart like the rest. Maybe you''ll be the one that I don''t pity. Maybe.¡± She turned to him, her expression somewhere between hurt and insulted outrage. As she inhaled to speak to him Dorian raised a finger, speaking before she could. ¡°But what do I know,¡± he let his shoulders and head droop, resuming the posture he had before. Mask of placidity back in place, he said, ¡°I''m just docile Duh-rian.¡± He looked away as if he didn''t understand.


    She looked at him, inhaled like she''d speak but instead held her breath, moving her head back as if away from something dangerous. Unsure and gawking at him, she left without a word. Dorian moved to watch Danny''s match but couldn''t care about it. In his frustration at the chaos of emotions whirling in his head, he simply stared off blankly, trying to find a place to land himself in the storm that was his mind.


    When his name was called by Brother Michael, he still hadn''t landed. The bile he had spewed with his words earlier now completely unattainable, the storm now raged through him, his inner animal nearly free. He had been brooding on the words Ingrid had said earlier, their mockery echoing through his mind. He hadn''t even registered that Brother Michael had called for a fight, only that his name had been called and what it meant. No longer thinking, his heart racing, he came in to the now, like feeling a gust of wind while standing at the edge of the courtyard. Fear, indignation, and fury were the rapture of his rebirth, they were the catalyst to bring him life. Docile Dorian they had called him, and they were right at the time. Now it was different, however, he was intent on showing them exactly what he was. He was Dorian become manifest, even if just for a moment, and his shout would not go unheard, nor could his animal be chained.


    Without thinking he cast of his tunic, giving rise to stares from several around him. He stood tall, proud and unabashed for what he was, an animal ready to be unleashed, the bear poked one too many times. Squaring his shoulders, he felt the muscles at the base of his neck bunching up, with his chin down he could feel them pressing together and rising out of his undershirt. His arms tensed and flexed as Dorian grasped his battle staff and raised it to position, making eye contact with Ingrid for the first time in the ring. The intensity there nearly matched his own, but despite her intimidating look something came over him. He grinned.


    Brother Michael''s hand dropped, and the world disappeared, leaving only Dorian and his opponent. Ingrid vaulted forward, leading with an overhead strike. Instead of dodging, Dorian moved forward to step into her attack but kept his feet firmly rooted to the ground. Staff held horizontally to contact hers, her face became unsure. As their staves met, he allowed her staff to come close, conceding a point to a partial blow, but in turn granting his arms the leverage they needed. Like a spring coiled, he snapped out with his entire body, all her weight, now resting on Dorian, was flung with all his might. He snarled out the word ¡°docile¡± as she was flung through the air, though it was incomprehensible in his own ears. She landed with a yelp clearing the outside of the ring. Dorian took a single step back to his starting position, his eyes never leaving Ingrid''s, his penetrating glare radiating his fury.


    ¡°One point, uh, surrendered to Dorian. Please miss Ingrid, to the center.¡± Brother Michael''s tone was confused, but he kept to his role.


    Her face was red, but Ingrid didn''t let it shake her composure. She headed to the center, as she did so a now shirtless Danny stepped into his view. ¡°Get that fat bastard Ingrid, he''s got nothing on you!¡± Danny called from the side of the ring. Dorian put on a pensive face, then grinned despite his anger. ¡°Brother Michael, what are those little dogs called, the ones that bark a whole lot and are all fluff?¡± Brother Michael was staring daggers at Danny but replied to Dorian, ¡°Gwendian foot-dogs?¡±


    Dorian snapped his fingers in mock realization, ¡°that''s why Jack called him that. Clever Jack.¡± Dorian smiled, chuckling to himself. To Dorian''s surprise, Brother Michael laughed too, a good hearty laugh before he straightened himself. He coughed into his hand, trying to hide himself. ¡°Yes, that was the insult, I do believe. Not the right place for it, initiate.¡± His scowl was completely false, anyone with half a mind could read right through it. ¡°Uh, one point reduction on inappropriate conduct. You should mind yourself Dorian.¡± Dorian didn''t mind, he was finally beginning to feel centered again, landing from his mental storm. Thanks Danny.


    Though he had landed, his fury was still there waiting to be tapped. He kept it in reserve and decided if he was going to win, or lose for that matter, he was going to have fun doing so. Though he could be serious, Dorian realized at that moment that it was entirely too much work. He grinned at his pretty opponent, and the look he got back surprised him. She was smirking.


    They clashed, back and forth, moving with fluidity and grace the dancers at the equinox festivals could never rival. She grunted in exertion as Dorian took another point, sweat now caked onto her head. Dorian''s own head was covered, and his undershirt was nearly drenched. Dorian hadn''t paid attention but passively noticed that the other matches had switched participants three or four times now.   The people around his ring now began to disappear, as the clack clack tap of their staves met back and forth, time seemed to disappear. Only the joy of the moment, the exhilaration of competition, and the movements of his opponent were all that existed and in Dorian''s mind it was beautiful.


    Ingrid''s next series came low, swiping haphazardly as she tired. If Dorian was tired, he couldn''t feel it save for a burning sensation emanating from his chest. His breaths were ragged but even, his mind clear and unfocused, the kind of mode that allowed his body to act without his mind getting in the way. Anchoring his staff against his foot he blocked the next swipe with the deadening power of his own weight. Using his foot to add speed, he lifted his knee, bringing the stave up quicker than one would be able to anticipate. Ingrid, however, used the momentum of the block to spin counterclockwise, thrusting forward as she turned back to meet Dorian. The result was an exchange of thrusts, Dorian being struck soundly at his thigh, Ingrid struck against her chest. That left Dorian two points away from victory, Ingrid trailing two points behind him. Despite this, the way in which Ingrid had taken the blow left her... disheveled. Furthermore, the fact that she was actively moving towards Dorian as she had been hit doubled her over, her own momentum forcing the staff to strike harder than it should. She rolled over but kept hold of her staff.


    Expecting a blow, she held her staff up preparing to block. Dorian, without a thought, stood over her to block the view of the crowd. Dorian looked away from but put his hand out as to tell her to stop. Without thinking he used his stave to hook his tunic and flung it onto her. It looked like a tent compared to her lithe form. As it draped over her, she shouted, ¡°Why the hell did you just do that?!¡± Her outrage was palpable, but Dorian wasn''t the kind to deliberately embarrass somebody like that. ¡°Ingrid, I''d take no honor in beating someone in, uh,¡± he looked about and spoke quietly, gripping his undershirt at the chest and pulling it down slightly, ¡°your current state.¡±


    ¡°Like we all haven''t seen them before!¡± Came Danny''s voice. A sudden rage came over Dorian then, overwhelming him. ¡°Shut your fucking mouth, Danny!¡± His chest felt on fire, but the room grew cold. Very cold, cold enough that Dorian could see his breath. The air was thin, and the locked glare between Danny and Dorian was one that spoke of war. A long moment passed when a cough came from behind Dorian. ¡°Forgetting something?¡±


    Dorian turned to see Ingrid tossing his tunic to the side. Now that he was out of the moment, the room returned to life. The air thickened, and in the quiet he noticed the entire class was seated, holding their breath as they watched the match. How much time has passed?


    Returning his gaze to Ingrid, she nodded her head and raised her staff in a sign of respect. Dorian met the gesture, tapping staves and returning to their dueling dance.


    Dorian grinned at the sound of their clash, the tap tap clack, the jarring vibrations sent down his staff, and the feel of a young man come to life burned through him. Not since he could remember, not since his life began at the monastery had he been this enthralled. Though joy filled him, he could tell that Ingrid''s heart wasn''t in the fight any longer. Something had come over her, Dorian had no clue what, but he could tell that the match was a forgone conclusion, the final strike dancing in his mind as he parried a thrust and laid another counter.


    It ended anticlimactically. Dorian had been circling her, riding the edge of the ring, and as she leaped to catch him off guard, he simply moved around the attack. Her momentum would have shoved him out of bounds, but without him grounding her she stumbled out, though not before Dorian tagged a final light strike against her. It was an all or nothing move, a gamble that she lost.


    They came to the center of the ring, shook hands, and Brother Michael announced Dorian the winner. The crowd erupted in applause, but despite her defeat Ingrid stepped in while shaking Dorian''s hand. With a curious expression she asked, ¡°Why did you... you know? It would have been an easy win.¡± She pointed to the back end of the ring by Dorian''s tunic. He gave a sad kind of grin before saying ¡°I know what it is to feel... well, like that. It''s not worth winning if I put anyone else through that too. I don¡¯t know¡­¡± he mumbled and shrugged, at a loss for words. She smiled gently as she met his eye, ¡°thank you, Dorian. And I''m-¡± Dorian never heard what she said as a mass of force tackled him to the ground.


    Rolling about, Dorian only knew of one person that could aptly wrestle him around like that. ¡°Get off me Kurt!¡± Dorian shouted before he wrapped an arm over an elbow that was cupping his gut and rolled, flinging the young man off him. As Dorian looked up, he caught sight of Ingrid walking away, Danny still shirtless following behind.


    ¡°Who the hell is Kurt?¡± Dorian looked back to see Jack. Then the man-ape-monster lunged at Dorian, laughing uproariously. ¡°And what in the name of the Kressian King was that, Dorian?! By the Gods, that was great!¡± They laughed and shoved back and forth for a few seconds. Dorian was too tired for it, tripping backwards but rolling back to his feet. Blackened balls, the guy was annoyingly strong.


    ¡°Alright, everybody, in light of the surprisingly long show,¡± Brother Michael shot Dorian a glare, ¡°We will continue our little tournament in three days.¡± With greater emphasis he said, ¡°during leisure hours. Any that do not wish to participate will be forced to concede, though I doubt many will. Dorian, a word.¡± Dorian glanced at Jack, but he only shrugged. Brother Michael squatted down, Jack already heading for the baths as Dorian caught his breath. ¡°You''ll be meeting with Sister Brenda within the hour, yes?¡± Dorian nodded. ¡°I''ll meet you there, her and I have a few things to discuss. Don''t worry, you''re not in trouble, but we will have to discuss what happened before the end of your match.¡±


    Dorian, face of concern said, ¡°Well, I just couldn''t hit her, she wasn''t in a proper state and all-.¡± Dorian was cut off by Brother Michael''s waving hand. ¡°Not that Dorian, though that was the honorable thing to do. I¡¯m referring to when you yelled back at Danny. Don''t worry, now hit the baths, you stink.¡± Dorian stood and gathered his tunic. ¡°And I''ll give you a proper staff next time, this thing is beaten to death.¡± Dorian stiffened. ¡°If I could, Brother Michael, I''d like to keep it.¡±


    ¡°What, this nasty thing? You''re joking right?¡±


    ¡°Really, I think it''s good luck.¡± Dorian was suddenly sheepish.


    After a long moment Brother Michael nodded and said, ¡°I''ll see what I can do about getting it repaired then.¡± He smiled and shooed Dorian away.


    Tired as he could be, Dorian found his way to the baths. The hot springs that ran through the mountain were likely the reason The Monastery had been built there, the ever-flowing hot water a luxury beyond belief. Dorian undressed in his bathing cubicle, set his clothes in the communal hamper, and slowly lowered himself in, enjoying the sliced bit of heaven. The sliding panels allowed privacy if one desired it, people weren''t overly bashful about their bodies, unless of course they were Dorian. His mind centered, he couldn''t believe he stood in front of his class in nothing more than his undershirt. Above all things, he prided himself on his bravery in that regard above all others. Maybe not completely facing his fear, but it had been a step. He smiled as his eyes began to feel heavy, his arms resting to the sides of the bath, the heavy lids shut despite his resistance and the world melted away.

 Chapter 16- Kurts Story, Part 2

    Chapter 16- Kurt''s story, part 2


    The practicality of using such a storage unit for my Kraken was a stroke of genius. Unfortunately, to keep the one from using my own pain against me, precautions were instilled into my new specimen. No longer could I allow access to any type of power flow external to my victim¡¯s own power, something that took several decades to understand. His torment over the years eventually lost its flavor, but for a long time I had something to look forward to. It hurt me to lose the exaltation I felt when I experimented, and thus I began another spiral into the madness. In my frenzied struggle to hang on to my sanity I discovered the secret to capping him off and keeping him alive.


    He metabolized the Kraken, eventually, and gave birth to new spawn leaving more room for my own seeds of pain. It was repulsive to witness but satisfying in a way that I can''t express. My eternal bond seethed at this but knew some satisfaction as it watched with me. The once-man¡¯s disgust, self-loathing and shame became the sweetest of treats for millennia to come. Though I''ve never had the passion for it, it may be the closest I''ll ever come to understanding the mind of a rapist.


    As time passed, only a few dim lights remained after the torches went out. Kurt had been initially anxious, attempting to free themselves. Dorian was finally awake but barely lucid, perhaps a concussion? Kurt knew if you slept after a head injury you might not wake up, so he had diligently pestered Dorian awake. At one point he sang a children''s song at the top of his lungs, just to piss Dorian off enough to stay awake. It had worked, but now Dorian¡¯s mood was foul.


    ¡°Are you feeling up to strong manning that door over there?¡± Kurt asked, hoping his brother had composed himself enough to give him a hand. He hadn''t asked sooner, Dorian looked like shit.


    Not that Kurt couldn''t blame him, overall, this situation sucked. Was this a Kressian base of operations into the Wilds? Why? What would be the point?... They had a place for prisoners, so that said a lot about their intentions. You don''t build stone cells unless you intend to use them.


    Dorian grimaced. ¡°I don''t know why, but I''ve got nothing. I''ve been trying to pick up on any thoughts, even yours. I can''t. It''s like the well is completely dry.¡±


    ¡°Gods be damned, you''ve picked a hell of a time to run out of juice. Let me think...¡± Kurt stood.


    ¡°Dorian, do you have any wire in your pack, anything to pick a lock with?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Oh, uh, no.¡± Dorian shook his head, his winter hair lining his pudgy face long enough that he had to tuck it behind his ears. His hair was an earthy brown with a hue to red, where Kurt''s hair had been dirty blond up until a few years ago. His hair now seemed to grow lighter and lighter, good for the snow, or maybe he was greying young. If he was, he took it upon himself to publicly blame Dorian for it, that is if they ever got out of this shit hole.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Dorian hopped up then promptly sat back down, wincing as he held his head. ¡°Your line staff, it¡¯s got wire in it.¡± He gestured, but half-heartedly.


    ¡°Really? How do you expect us to get to it?¡± Kurt asked.


    ¡°Water, where''s your pack?¡±


    Looking about himself, he realized he had lost his canteen. He had his travel sack but had left the water behind on his winter coat. ¡°It''s likely with my winter coat, I had to ditch a bunch of things when I was running after you. You?¡±


    Dorian shook his head, ¡°I put my gear down at the mouth of the tunnel, my staff is there too, or I''d use mine.¡±


    ¡°Blackened balls!¡± Kurt was starting to get worked up, pacing about as he thought furiously.


    ¡°How long do you think we''ve been down here?¡± Dorian asked, finally seeming to come out of his stupor.


    ¡°Long enough to get me irritated. It''s probably midnight or later I''m guessing. Maybe seven, eight hours?¡±


    Dorian nodded, ¡°makes sense. My bladder is gonna burst soon.¡±


    Kurt snapped his fingers, ¡°that''s a great idea Dorian.¡±


    ¡°Bursting my bladder?¡± Dorian asked, confused.


    ¡°Is there an indentation anywhere? Like a deeper one?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, there''s one over here, it''s a bit shallow though, more of a shallow bowl than a cup.¡±


    ¡°That''ll work, pee there.¡±


    The absurd look on Dorian''s face was priceless. ¡°Kurt, you are aware were stuck in here, right?¡±


    ¡°Not for long if you''ll just go pee.¡±


    ¡°I''m not peeing in this little room, are you out of your mind?¡± Dorian was outright aghast. Kurt never really understood how Dorian could be so snooty about some things.


    ¡°Dorian, we are locked up in a cage the Gods only know how far beneath the earth. We haven''t slept yet, and it will be a long time before we do unless we get the hell out of here. Blackened balls man, are you daft?¡±


    Dorian looked pensive for a moment, mouth twisting to a side for a moment. Stiff lipped, he turned to the spot he spoke about. He readied himself, but nothing happened. Kurt nearly chuckled through his veneer of gravitas.


    ¡°Drip,¡± Kurt said. Dorian turned a glare over his shoulder. ¡°Drip,¡± he said again, smirking.


    ¡°Not funny, Kurt.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay. Just lightening the mood.¡± Kurt looked away at the opposing side of the room noting another chamber, his eyes finally adjusting to the dimmer and dimmer light. What Ohmer had done was spectacular, it had done what took his eyes hours to do naturally. After thinking for a moment, he remembered the lyrics to a song, which he decided to share.


    ¡°Oh, you raging river. Dreams of streams you make. Oh, you raging river, your waterfalls make us quake.¡± He sung, as melodically as he could. He knew his singing voice was awful and flaunted it as often as he could.


    ¡°Enough, enough, I''ll go already.¡± Dorian cried from behind him. Finally, the sound he was expecting echoed through the stone room. After a short time, Kurt retrieved his staff.


    ¡°Do you know where the wire would be?¡± Kurt asked.


    ¡°I know there''s several long ones running down it, and a circle around the bottom. The one on the bottom is the easiest to get to.¡± Dorian replied, pointing out the grooves where each had been placed.


    ¡°It''s actually a really interesting process, whe-¡±


    ¡°Don''t care.¡± Kurt cut Dorian off, not the time.


    Dorian looked hurt a moment, so Kurt filled the silence. ¡°Can''t part with the bottom one for fear I''ll lose the point. I''ll soak the top here, and if I can just get part of one exposed, I should have more than enough. You ever pick a lock before?¡±


    Dorian shook his head. Kurt hadn''t either, so he said. ¡°Looks like big brother''s gonna have to swoop in and save the day. Again.¡± Kurt made himself sound confident, for Dorian''s sake.


    Kurt went over and laid the staff in the urine, making crude noises as he did so. ¡°Oh gods, it''s pee! Whatever will we do?¡± Kurt put on a teary-eyed expression.


    ¡°You''re a real asshole sometimes, you know that?¡±


    Kurt got the oddest satisfaction out of goading his brother, brother''s prerogative, he thought. Smirking, he said, ¡°yep,¡± in the cheeriest tone he could muster.


    A time passed, and when everything was ready, they argued over who would do the deed. Kurt argued that it was Dorian''s urine, so he should have to do it. This only made sense in Kurt''s mind. Dorian argued that it was Kurt''s ¡°pissy plan,¡± so it was on him. Kurt only agreed because he got a good laugh out of the word play. Grabbing the staff, he pointed it at one of the edges of the gate. He shaved, more like melted, layer after layer until he came to a hard spot. Letting it bend out, he pushed it to a hard ninety-degree angle, and then passed that to make wiggle room. It dried quickly, just a few minutes, and Kurt began working the wire back and forth to break it off.


    Wire in hand, he took to task. Never having done this before, he tried to inspect the keyhole as best as he could. He shouldn''t have wasted his time, because it was so dim now that he worried he might drop the wire and lose it to the blackness. He bent it and started fidgeting with the slim piece of metal. After several minutes he tried it from the other side of the door.  Then he repeated this process, changing his ¡°key¡± ever so often, trying to catch something.


    Eventually, Dorian spoke up. ¡°Here to save the day, huh? Why don''t you try the other door?¡±


    ¡°Doesn''t have a key slot.¡± Kurt said, having already thought of this.


    ¡°It does, it''s just on the other side.¡± Dorian pointed.


    Kurt thought he might be getting somewhere with this keyhole, and would have preferred backtracking rather than stumbling about in the dark, but then again anywhere was better than this cell. It stank of piss.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Kurt gathered himself and expressed to Dorian to not have such rank smelling urine in the future. Dorian just shook his head, making an exacerbated face.


    ¡°Must you always be so ridiculous?¡± he said as Kurt crouched down and reached an arm out, feeling for a keyhole. After locating it, he passed the wire key over to his other hand, gripping it tight as can be. He began fidgeting with it then said, ¡°yes.¡± As though it was an absolute fact.


    In that moment there was only one fact he was concerned with, that this situation was bad but could only get worse if they didn''t move. He wouldn''t be such an ass in these dire circumstances if he wasn''t sure that Dorian would be freaking out otherwise. He didn''t appear to be any worse for wear, but Kurt was mostly concerned with keeping a level head and hoped being an ass to his little brother would keep Dorian oblivious to the gravity of the situation.


    A touch of caught tension, unlike what he had felt before. The pressure on the wire had just a touch of play, and Kurt was sure he had it. ¡°Say, what''s that book you''ve read at least a hundred times now?¡±


    Quizzical, he answered like a question. ¡°Traveler''s Curse?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, what''s that line towards the end, when he takes over the kingdom to get his home back, right at the end.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah, it goes ¡°You will remove my hand but nothing, and I mean nothing, can bar my course. I have toppled kingdoms to remove this gate. Now remove it before I bring a country to bear.¡±¡±


    Click.


    ¡°Well said little brother, but you should put more gusto into the delivery. I think it''s implied that he''s scowling.¡± Kurt got up, grabbed his stinking line staff, and left the cell, just after alleviating himself at the first door. Yes, it was spite, but he also had to go. Giving a nonchalant shrug to the thought, he tidied up and made his way out the open gate. Dorian was already out there, though the light was extraordinarily dark, Kurt could make out his pensive face. ¡°Can you hear me?¡± Dorian sent to Kurt.


    He nodded. ¡°So strange, hang on.¡± Dorian walked back into the cell. He gave a ¡°hmm¡± and walked back out. ¡°Kurt, I''m going to send to you as I pass through this archway. So hopef-,¡± Dorian cut off as he took a step backward. Now that was strange. He stepped back out and turned, inspecting the door. He couldn''t see any better than Kurt could, which was barely at all.


    Dorian put his palm out, holding it open. A small light began to form there, casting a bright green hue throughout the chamber. Dorian continued inspecting the wall.


    ¡°So, that''s new. When did ya pick up that trick?¡± Kurt asked, dumbstruck. Some of the things his little brother did still seemed so unreal. When things like this happened, he was reminded that though Dorian was his little brother, he was also something else entirely. Though, generally, that wasn¡¯t how Kurt thought about people, they were themselves, they weren''t what they could do or be. Treating people like tools to an end was wrong, he knew that despite how his society glorified the other houses for treating people as tools, he disagreed. As mom would put it, ¡°people are intrinsically valuable,¡± whatever that meant.


    ¡°Oh this, yeah¡­ uh, yesterday? Ohmer showed it to me. Hey, check this out, there''s a thin line of green stone here, I bet it runs under and over the bars. This was intentional, whomever built these intends on capturing Priorius.¡± Dorian was suddenly somber. ¡°Kurt what do we do?¡±


    Kurt put a hand on Dorian''s shoulder, ¡°we''re gonna figure it out as we go. Come on, it''s time we were out of here.¡±


    Dorian steadied himself and nodded, projecting a beam of light out in front of them. The hallway had a very clean look to it despite it being stone, the walls were perfectly flat. They even reflected a bit of light, helping them see further down. As they strode away they found more cages on each side until they came to an open chamber. There was a large, vaulted ceiling overhead, and five other doorways that looked just the same as the one they came out of. One large archway centered the room. ¡°Shall we?¡± Kurt gestured to Dorian.


    ¡°We shall.¡± Dorian replied, feeling more confident now. As they walked through the doors the Dorian''s light winked out.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Dorian whispered.


    ¡°No shit,¡± Kurt replied.


    ¡°It must be another room like the cell.¡±


    ¡°There''s torches enough to see by, let¡¯s just get out of here.¡± Kurt''s tone was commanding.


    They moved, finding a high hallway, also clean but with some artistic ornamentation. The animal skulls that were plastered to the walls were a nice touch, and what would make a better torch sconce than a human skull? Pay no mind to your racing heart, Kurt thought. Kurt looked over to Dorian, his face was also grim in the torchlight. They each found a bracketed torch, something most people didn''t bother with. Good steel was hard to come by, most simply went without. As they moved, they began hearing noises. Chattering, almost like a set of bickering squirrels.


    Kurt handed the torch to Dorian as he got into a crouch. Taking his staff in hand, he skulked up the hall. He was tired by this point, but the adrenaline pumping through him now was exhilarating. Heel toe, heel toe, no sound, his breathe even, paying attention to his step as he would pause momentarily to look about, keeping an eye on his objective.


    The two dim shadows were, for lack of a better word, lumpy. Uneven, but they bobbed back and for with their clicks, long vowels interjecting ever so often, though they were much softer than the deep clicks they made. They stood, facing each other, one leaning against a wall.


    The best tactic here would be swift attack, swift and brutal, like pouncing a boar. Give no warning, strike deadly. The sweet spot when going for a mortal blow was either a heart or throat strike. Depending on how close he could get to them without them noticing him, he could end this in a moment, he''d have to. Steeling himself, he began taking a breath when the two stopped chattering. He paused mid stride, hoping he was hidden by the dark. They resumed chatting after a moment, and Kurt took the opportunity to move in for the kill.


    Pulling his arm back to strike, he lashed out with all his might. He struck the first from the side, running through the throat and catching on his enemy''s jawbone before sliding through the flesh out the other side, leaving his prey devastated. Pulling back quickly he lashed out, but too slow. The shadowy figure spun out ducking his head as he went. When he centered himself against Kurt, he had something long glinting in his hand. That''s a real weapon, that''s a sword.


    Having swords crafted was tantamount to holy war against the Monastery. When it came to owning weapons, it was highly frowned upon, Metan had been given liberty as they were the primary source for game. Their pelts and exotic foods helped the rest of the Valley, but they were more exposed to the harshness of the Valley in turn, on account of the harder living. Kressians lived to be old, but not as old as Gwendians. The monks were rumored to live to ancient ages. Metians, Hunts in particular, were lucky to grow old enough to grey. Of course, if you met a trapper that was old enough to go grey, they were likely a very dangerous person.


    None of that mattered, because the sentence for anybody, including a Metan citizen, caught owning a sword was death. A sword was used for one reason, to kill someone. That''s no hunter''s weapon, that kind of thing was only ever owned by a murderer.


    Suddenly outraged at the sight, and a little scared, Kurt burst forth, thrusting in a series that left his opponent on the defensive. Kurt poised a strike, then pivoting, swung with all his might. He did this to keep his opponent off balance, that kind of swing would usually stagger an opponent unless their balance was perfect. His opponent placed one hand at the back of his blade to brace the impact. It cut halfway through the piss end of his staff, chunks flying in to the man''s face. Kurt grinned.


    Recoiling, Kurt swept low for his opponent¡¯s legs, whipping his stave back around and overhead, following with a series of overhead, then underhand jabs. The man barked at him. It was unnerving, but Kurt was committed. Feigning a high strike, he thrust center and met clean flesh. Cackling, the man stumbled against the wall, sliding down it. The sound of his sword clanging against the stone floor echoed, and a quiet followed, only his breathing breaking the silence.


    ¡°Kurt.¡± Dorian said, quiet but alarmed. He was standing over the first man, staring like an idiot.


    Now finally visible from Dorian¡¯s torch, what they beheld was a horror. Wrinkled and darkened skin, with an elongated nose, mouth tilting upward a touch with very little separation between the bridge of its nose and its upper lip. Its teeth were on full display as it lay lifeless in a pool of its own blood. Sharp and pointed, a carnivore. Its mangled body wasn''t any better than its face, head over sized, rounded shoulders. There were warts and humps all throughout its skin, its pustule covered muscles misshapen and malformed.


    ¡°Dorian, we need to get out of here.¡± Kurt said as he gawked at the dead thing, doing his best to keep the fear from his voice.


    Dorian gave a grunt of ascent, so Kurt retrieved his staff from the other one. The suction noise it made on the way out would likely scar him for life, he felt like he wanted to sick up. Reaching over, he grabbed the dropped weapon and offered it to Dorian. ¡°I know you don''t know how to use it either, but I''m better with a staff. This is too long for you anyways.¡± Kurt shook the staff.


    Dorian stared at the sword for a moment, his eyes going wide. They seemed to shimmer green for just a moment, then he nodded. He took the blade after setting the torches down. He hefted it as Kurt grabbed his torch. Dorian checked the balance on it, inspecting it like he''d done so before. He looked down the blade long ways, ¡°straight,¡± he muttered before clasping it from the hilt.


    ¡°Single edge pointed saber, if a bit heavy. Needs a good polishing and some edge work-¡±


    ¡°Dor!¡± Kurt whispered at him, harsh in his tone. ¡°Later.¡±


    Kurt inspected the dim area more closely, assuming there would be a door somewhere nearby. Finding it, there was a single room with a platform inside with beams of light shining down from above. The platform had ropes on all four sides and a pole running through the center. Coming from above, there was a muffled tone that rose and fell. Kurt couldn''t make it out, it was just a white noise, like standing near a waterfall.


    ¡°I think we should look for another way.¡± Dorian said from behind him, looking menacing with a sword in his hand. They stepped out of the room and kept making their way down the curved hall. The odd thing was that it didn''t change course, the only discerning property of the hall a minor incline to the step.


    The next door they found had a window. One look through it and Kurt just shook his head, putting a finger to his lips to shush Dorian. It was good to be curious, but not all the time.


    There was a vast amount of those things just through the door, walking around as they chattered to one another. This hallway was densely populated with those things. The two brothers continued their frantic search for an escape. Instead, they found a closet with more bones in it, another with a stash of meat Kurt didn''t trust, and finally a weapons cache. This they took up, Dorian finding a comparable blade but a touch shorter, Kurt finding a proper dory. He had been informed about the dory by his father, who had actually trained with one. It was a spear with a double-sided metal blade at the end. Apparently wielded by the ¡°warriors of old¡± as his father would put it.


    There were other miscellaneous objects scattered about, but nothing of any immediate use. After a moment they continued their way down, trying to find a way out of this mad house. After finding another door, they moved to inspect it. This one also had a window. Through it, Kurt could make out an auditorium like layout. Rows of seats descended towards something Kurt couldn''t see, and as Kurt stared, they all burst out of their seats. Instead of an expectant roar, silence.


    ¡°Let¡¯s keep going.¡± Kurt said and took off at a trot. He didn''t want to spend any more time there than they had to. The next door was the last door, as the hallway ended abruptly. Looking through the window there, he swore. Though not as many as before, this looked to be high seats. It was well lit, and there were only a few of those things sitting in throne-like stone chairs draped with animal skins, others standing about them but not moving.


    He noted it a peculiarity but disregarded it. His objective was to get the hell out of this place. He put his finger on his lip to signal quiet to Dorian, then held a hand out telling him to wait. He turned and ran ideas around in his head. They could run away, back to where they came, but that would only land them where they started. They could inspect the other cells, possibly one could be out of order. It had been more than a half hour since they got out of their cell, likely no one would be back there yet. It was a possibility, either that or sneak through their auditorium while the creatures were distracted. Still, they didn''t have idea about this place''s layout, but those odds were the best they had so far. As he turned, he noted Dorian on his tip-toes leaning against the door, trying to get a peek at the window. The door budged and before Kurt had a chance to catch him, Dorian fell through it.

 Chapter 17 - A Darker Power

    When the sensations first came over me, I was indeed the pioneer. Most assumed the Kraken was a byproduct of the Gia, but no. It is of my belief they are opposites, the light and the dark, good and bad, altruism to cruelty. This is, of course, only theoretical, for it was said by the first elder, my predecessor, that at the dawn of creation there was but one. His babbling still echoes in my mind after all this time. Even now, twenty-five thousand years since, I can hear him. He tells me I''m no prophet, he tells me I''m a plague. The man is completely insane.


    Dorian woke with a lurch as the sound of knocking at his bath door echoed through the chamber. He just had another dream, and though he tried to remember it this time, he knew he had to, but the memory of it floated away all the same. Damn, but why does it always feel so important?


    Gathering his pruned body out of the lightly flowing bathwater, he questioned himself as to how long he had been unconscious. The knocking echoed again, Dorian replying, ¡°just a second,¡± before dressing hastily.


    The garb of an initiate could either be simplistic robes, grayish wool that had likely been worn by thirty or so different initiates over the years, or a tunic of varying color and material. The tunics were always private, whereas the robes were supplied by the Monastery. Volunteering to spend time out of leisure hours was the only way to earn Vega tokens, and if you wanted nicer clothes you generally had to work for them. Some people, however, had found ways around this.


    Dorian wasn''t one of the lucky ones who had been sent Vega from their own wealthy family, people like Danny and Malik could usually afford whatever they liked. Though the initiates never learned the identity of the sender, they certainly enjoyed the benefits of those gifts.


    As Dorian dressed in his robes, he wondered if he might grow adventurous enough to buy himself a tunic, even Jack had his own wool tunics. Dorian wasn''t so conceded as to buy the bright colored silk tunics some wore, but finally felt like the time for hiding away in his robes was at an end. Cotton sounded more like his style, maybe something with a red hue. Despite his inability to summon an appropriate amount of fire, he always loved the color. The red, orange, and yellow hues, sometimes bleeding into blue, always captivated him.


    Another knock came, even just as before, and Dorian opened the bolted door. Malik stood behind it, broad smile in place.


    "Well done, my new wealthy friend," Malik said as he reached into a pocket, pulling out three rolls of Vega tokens. "I assumed, since I made a fortune on you, I could front you your share now. Great show." He handed Dorian the rolls and patted his shoulder. Malik was friendly and popular, and Dorian suspected he got along with everyone for practical reasons. Malik tended to use people, which was not necessarily bad if the experience was mutual, but it made Dorian uncomfortable. He did not like the idea of a person being a means to an end. However, if Dorian were to be that means for Malik, he preferred a fair trade over a one-sided deal. Dorian smirked.


    ¡°I appreciate that, Malik.¡± Dorian nodded and returned the gesture, then began to take his leave. ¡°Hang on, Malik. Do you have a sec?¡±


    ¡°Neither of us do, lunch is set to end in a half hour or so.¡± Dorian cursed to himself at the news, he had slept longer than he had hoped. ¡°Can I walk with you?¡±


    Malik thought for a moment and agreed.


    As they headed out of the baths, Dorian asked, ¡°do you know who I''ll be facing in the next round?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Malik said, ¡°Atticus.¡±


    Dorian let his mouth twist off to the side, a sour taste suddenly on his pallet. ¡°Do I have good odds?¡±


    Malik shrugged, ¡°not near as good as you got against Ingrid, that was the upset of upsets. Who would have known? Dorian, I''ve sparred against you, but I knew right away that something special happened when you stepped in that ring. You don''t even want to know how much I made today.¡± He smiled to himself and rubbed his hands together, trying to vent out his excitement.


    Raising an eyebrow and a grin at the sight, Dorian asked again, ¡°so, my odds?¡±


    Smile widening, Dorian received a thought from Malik, ¡°to business then.¡±


    Malik moved his hands as he spoke, ¡°two to one, not near as good as Ingrid. A few bet on her taking the tournament,¡± he laughed loudly, smiling broadly. His perfectly white teeth seeming to glimmer in the green tinted light of the monastery. ¡°Their loss, my friend.¡±


    ¡°Would you care to take another wager on my behalf?¡± Dorian asked, figuring he could use the extra leisure hours for his own research and practice. Malik''s eyebrow raised, ¡°plan on taking the tournament?¡± His smile became greedy, a glinting light to his eyes.


    Dorian frowned in thought, ¡°If I win, who will I likely face in the following round?¡±


    Smile vanishing, Malik said the one thing Dorian had wanted to hear all day. ¡°Danny.¡±


    Absolute in tone Dorian said, ¡°I''ll make it to the semifinals.¡±


    Curious, Malik asked, ¡°That sure? I mean I like the new Dorian, but Danny has a grudge.¡±


    ¡°He''s not the only one.¡± Dorian''s stare was flat, Malik''s smile broadened. ¡°All right, what would you like to put down?¡±


    Dorian pulled out an entire stick of Vega tokens, twenty in total. ¡°All on me for the first round, if I lose, I lose and don''t worry about the second bet. If I win, all those winnings on me against Danny if he''s the one I face.¡± Dorian put the stick of coins in Malik''s hand. ¡°Very confident, I like it. I''m rooting for you, but there is another matter.¡± Dorian''s brow raised.


    Malik''s voice echoed in Dorian''s mind, Malik''s head tilting slightly as he stopped to look up at Dorian. ¡°Surcharge?¡±


    Dorian let out an ¡°ah¡± in realization. ¡°What''s customary?¡±


    Malik sent, ¡°five percent, in advance. Would you like me to take it from the winnings? It''ll lower your total bet though.¡±


    Dorian shook his head, running the numbers. ¡°Odds on Danny?¡±


    ¡°Five to one.¡±


    A cool brow raised to Malik at that. Then, Dorian''s boyish grin broke out on his face. Dorian pulled out the second stick of coins and placed it in Malik''s hand. ¡°Take the ten and one, for eleven. I wanted to ask, mostly because I don''t know anybody who knows anybody¡­¡± Dorian rubbed the back of his head as he let the statement hang, feeling sheepish. Malik gestured, wanting Dorian to spit it out.


    Dorian put a hand on his woolen robe, rubbing the material. ¡°Do you know anyone I can get some clothes from, I''m tired of these old robes.¡±


    Malik''s laugh echoed through the hall as they came to a stop by the stairwell. ¡°About time Dorian, you know I''m sure those robes are older than either of us.¡± Dorian shrugged, feeling abashed.


    ¡°I know some people, but nine tokens are a bit high for a tunic. Nine chips would be a bit high.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I appreciate that, Malik.¡± Dorian was being honest, he didn''t know the first thing about the prices of clothing. He didn¡¯t know how people managed to get them at all, just that the Elders of the Monastery turned a blind eye to it. Furthermore, he was tired of being the odd one out, and having his own cloths instead of the Monastery rags would help with that. Fitting in wasn¡¯t really his worry, but he was sick of getting chided.


    ¡°I''ll send somebody to get your measurements later tonight, any preferences?¡± Malik asked.


    Dorian got pensive for a moment, but despite how bold the recent day had made him he erred towards simplicity in color but requested a few less than common additions that made Malik look at him sidelong. Malik smiled deviously, ¡°sounds good, do we have a deal?¡± He offed his wrist to shake, and Dorian took it without a second thought.


    Heading into the dining hall, Dorian knew there would be little time to get his food and eat. As he approached the serving area there was but one person waiting behind the counter.


    ¡°Running a little late, initiate?¡± The elderly Woman said from behind the stone counter.


    ¡°Y-yes ma''am. Sorry, I was caught up with physical education and needed thorough scrubbing. Any tarts left for the tardy?¡± Dorian was sheepish about being late, and for no reason seemed to give the people in the kitchens a certain level of reverence. Many of the other initiates were rude to them, but Dorian got a distinct impression that the servers usually got theirs in the end. In no way did Dorian want spit mixed in with his salad, or anything else the clever cooks could come up with.


    ¡°Yes deary, a few bits left. There''s some roasted goat with grains, and I think I have some sweet bread.¡± She was lifting lids that had pans inside, underneath, Dorian had heard, were stone pipes that had scalding hot water running through them. Maybe it was where they got the expression ¡°piping hot¡± from, Dorian mused to himself as he watched the older Woman rummage for his lunch.


    ¡°Oh, don''t worry about the sweet bread, I''d be more than pleased with the roast with grains.¡±


    The glare the older woman shot him was a bit confused, but she shrugged as she retrieved a stone plate holding it as she spoke. ¡°Trying to drop some weight then?¡± A questioning look passed across her face, but her eyes never left her duty.


    ¡°Uh, not really ma''am. Respectfully, whomever is making the sweet bread is doing it in the wrong order.¡±


    That got her attention. She lifted a brow as she handed him the plate. ¡°And how is that?¡±


    ¡°Well, first off the dough hasn''t fully risen yet, and the sweet aspect is added while making the dough rather than layered over the dough before its baked.¡± Dorian said without thinking.


    ¡°And how would you know that?¡±


    ¡°Can''t you taste it? The yeast is spoiled by the sugar.¡± Dorian gestured to the bread. The older server took a bite, scowled, and threw the rest away. ¡°Tell you what, uh, what''s your name initiate?¡±


    ¡°Dorian, ma''am. Yours?¡±


    ¡°Clarice. Tell you what, if you can come in here and show us how to do it, I''ll get you a few tokens, and get you access to some of the finer cuts. What do you say?¡±


    ¡°When?¡± Dorian asked, oddly excited.


    ¡°Tonight, or tomorrow, we won¡¯t be cooking any more until sixth day.¡±


    ¡°You''ve got a deal.¡± Dorian smiled broadly as they shook. She turned, finished loading up his plate and handed it over. ¡°Just head on down during leisure hours, we serve the entire evening, but we should be able to make some time for you. If you have any problems, just ask for Lester or myself.¡±


    Dorian nodded, thanked her politely, and left to scarf down his meal. He found his friends quickly and wasted no time in devouring his surprisingly large serving. It was always good to be good to the people that handle your food, today it seemed to pay off double.


    Jack just watched as Dorian, unbelievably famished, ate with reckless abandonment. Jack''s face went from curious to horrified as Dorian ate. When Dorian looked about, he noted the rest of his friends staring oddly as well. With a mouth full of food, he managed to grunt out a ¡°hmm?¡±


    Benny spoke first, ¡°uh, well, first off, would you like a shovel?¡± Jack and Ken both laughed at that, but Dorian just chewed, trying to get enough down to reply. Alas, his speed wasn''t enough, because Ken followed up, ¡°I think there''s a feeding troth we could get you instead.¡± Jack and Benny laughed, but Dorian had finally finished chewing enough to explain.


    ¡°I have private tutoring in a few minutes, and Brother Michael is going to be there. I don''t want to go through the next few hours hungry.¡± A few flashes from the lights signaled a five-minute warning. It basically meant if you weren''t in class, you should be heading there. Damn.


    The three others got up, but Dorian was too hungry to leave the last half of his meal unfinished. He took a few more bites as the others said their goodbyes. ¡°Goodbye Dorian¡± called Benny, ¡°I''m off to shaping, I''ll catch up with you guys later.¡±


    Jack nodded at that, ¡°I should get going too, I guess I''ll tell you later, but it looks like you''ll be the strongest in the class now.¡±


    Dorian coughed as he swallowed, drank some water and said, ¡°you can''t leave on a note like that! Short for now, tell me more later.¡±


    Jack thought for a moment, then smiled, ¡°Nah,¡± he said, dragging the word out. The bastard left, Dorian shaking his head as he shoveled a few more bites into his mouth. He stood, still chewing, and headed over to place his tray with the other dirty ones. Ken waved at him, and he waved back before dropping off his tray and scurrying out to see Sister Brenda.


    Dorian moved with all haste as he headed for the courtyard. He knew he was nearly late but didn''t want to show up sweaty, nor did he want to deal with the other consequences.  He made his way through the stone archway just as he saw the lights flicker and go out. Getting lost in the halls wasn''t fun, though he had been lost in the dark before. It was a surefire way of catching anybody that hadn''t made it to class on time, if a bit cruel. When Dorian had been lost, he had the most unnerving sensation, almost the same way he felt when he thought about the dimming lights, it was creepy. Not to mention there was something incredibly disconcerting about not being able to see your hand in front of your face, it was something Dorian now avoided like Brussels sprouts. No force in heaven, hell, or earth could inspire Dorian to experience either again. Brussels sprouts were disgusting.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Brother Michael was already out by the large tree that centered the courtyard. Around the edges, with the exception to the side displaying the fantastic view of the valley, Dorian noted a new addition. Bushes had been grown into the shape of monastery monks in their robes. Hands tucked in to their sleeves, heads lowered in supplication to the Gods, it made the beautiful courtyard ominous without repute.


    The conversation between the Sister and Brother was surprisingly heated, Sister Brenda''s distant voice emanating from behind the large oak. Dorian moved closer, but didn''t want to get caught eavesdropping. He decided the politest thing to do was move to a location that was visible to both, but not interrupt, thus allowing them to continue without him hindering things. Dorian usually felt like that, like he''d step on everyone''s toes by simply existing.


    So, as not to intrude, he found his customary viewing point at the edge of the courtyard, the wind muffling the sound of the argument and washing away Dorian''s worries. He thought on the day thus far and assumed it must just be his luck. Rather, his lack of luck. The reason Dorian didn''t like the games of chance that the two Tanner brothers, Ken and Benny, enjoyed was because he felt that his luck was shoddy at best. ¡°Unlucky¡± was just another amazing quality Dorian thought he had; his timing had always been impeccable in that regard. He preferred games of skill any day over a game of luck, he could do something about his skill.


    Almost on cue to his thoughts, a leg cramp sent a spasm of pain across his calve. He let out a small shout and fell to the ground, extending his leg out as far as it could until the cramp ceased. Looking back, the two elders were staring at him. He waved, ushering them back to their conversation. After taking a moment and rubbing at the back of his leg, he got up and leaned on the thick stone balcony. Despite the overcast, the view was excellent. The sun lighting the clouds over the expanse of forest to the southwest, grassy flatland extending beyond the monastery farmland, the Monastery temple, where the Grand Elder stayed, cutting off the horizon. The sight let his mind wander at silly things, thoughts of adventure, and what it would be like to be outside of the Valley. Most of them would find out, he knew, when they all ascended. Perhaps it was more than just a valley like their own, perhaps an unending expanse of world lay beyond. It couldn''t all be uninhabitable mountainous terrain, surely there must be other places like this one in the world. Perhaps larger.


    The thought sent his mind down a rabbit hole of possibilities. What would it be like to adventure out there in the unending expanse of the world? Not just a map, but to really be there? Would it be scary or thrilling or both? No, it wouldn''t be scary, he''d have company. He could drag his friends along, and they could go see it all. They could come back to the Valley, praised as adventurers and explorers all. His companions would become legends of the valley, perhaps even a bit of fame onto his own person. He could hear it now, the people speaking about Jack the Giant, Benny the Bold, Ken the Kind, and Dorian the... Dweeb. No, don''t do that, Dorian chided himself. He had been having a good day, and for the first time that he could remember he felt like he should think better of himself.


    Dorian the ¡°what¡± then? Dorian the Debased? Derelict? Deranged? He sighed, not able to come up with any ¡°D¡± words that were apt or positive. Dumb ass? Yep, that would have to do for now. He sighed and daydreamed as to what was needed for an adventure. Damsels made a good addition, he thought. The image of Ingrid''s smirk ran across his mind, and suddenly he felt a flush at the thought. Damsel didn''t fit that one, if anything Dorian was the damsel between the two of them. No, she isn''t a hero, he told himself, he couldn''t allow himself to see her in a positive light. They had a fantastic match, and she should have won, Dorian had been lucky, or gifted, or perhaps it had simply been his day. Still though, Ingrid the Insidious sounded like a great name for a villain. Even as he thought this though, his mind added ¡°Ingrid the Incredible, Ingrid the Immaculate, the Iridescent, the Illuminating.¡± Damn his thoughts, she didn''t deserve those compliments. She had humiliated and insulted him, she had been like the rest and thought him stupid. And yet, he felt he had glimpsed something there, a fiery soul that matched his own, and for a time in the ring Dorian found a place where he wasn''t afraid of showing himself to the world, for his entire world was within that ring. In that ring with Ingrid, the Irresistible, his mind added without his consent.


    Dorian laughed. It was dark humor, but being alone so often, he needed to entertain himself to avoid going crazy. He did chide himself afterwards, not willing to give those rotten teenage harridans the satisfaction of being right. Ingrid was something else, but outside of the ring they weren''t the festival dancers they were in the ring. They didn''t acknowledge each other, ever. There was no kindness to be shared between them, no mutual friends, and no reason for them to ever come into contact. Well, maybe he was wrong about the latter as one of her primes was in Cultivation, but her class was advanced even for her age. Then again, the odds of Dorian making it to that class before his eighteenth year was about as likely as them going to the Equinox Festival together.


    The thought of the Equinox Festival was a whirlwind of hopes. The initiates only had one every two years, which finally made sense as time was different inside the Monastery. The place influenced him, something about being inside those walls gave him a sensation he didn''t like. Every time they gathered in mass in the main hall, or saw how they were formed, tallied, and with passionless precision measured into black and white categories, he had an unnerving sense that something was incredibly wrong. He couldn''t tell why, all his memories were of this place, but there was something about it that upset him and left him on edge. Despite himself, that mask of docility he drew was slowly becoming his face in earnest. Recognizing this left him bitter and angry, and slowly Dorian''s daydreaming was more of day-brooding.


    ¡°He''s one of eight classes I have for his age, one of eight! I''ll pass all of them this year, that''s three hundred and sixty, and this will be my twentieth year! In all that time do you think I''ve ever been overridden? Even once?!¡± Came Brother Michael''s voice, interrupting Dorian''s reverie.


    ¡°It doesn''t matter! He has two more years! What do you want me to do? Break custom? You know I can''t do that!¡±


    ¡°If you don''t, I''ll do it my damn self! You''re cheating him and yourself and putting the lives of others at risk! What happens when-¡± the conversation calmed enough that the wind began to muffle the sounds once more. Dorian turned to see Sister Brenda nodding at his words.


    They made eye contact with Dorian, and he began to look away again when Brother Michael called him. When Dorian looked over, Brother Michael waved him down, but Sister Brenda''s scowl could have cooked the hair right off Dorian''s head. He looked to her and she nodded, so Dorian gathered himself by taking a deep breath and strode their direction.


    ¡°Dorian, how is your control on your Gia progressing?¡± Asked Brother Michael, broaching the subject tactlessly.


    Dorian looked down, hands clasped behind his back. ¡°Not very well, Brother Michael. I''ve increased how much I can draw three fold, but I had very little to begin with.¡±


    ¡°I see your manors and rhetoric have improved,¡± The Brother looked to Sister Brenda derisively then back to Dorian. ¡°But that''s not why I''m here. Can you show me?¡±


    Dorian nodded and presented his hand. After a moment of concentration, a near handful of green light emanated from his palm. The mass moved like water but behaved more like a thicker substance. It had no actual weight, but it was there all the same.


    His expression was grave. ¡°Is that all you can muster?¡±


    ¡°It''s the most I''ve attempted, Brother Michael. Any time I try for more I get lightheaded, and I feel like I''m going to lose consciousness.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever lost consciousness, then?¡±


    Dorian shook his head, ¡°no, not from this, sir.¡±


    ¡°How do you feel otherwise? Do you feel happiness or joy at summoning your Gia?¡±


    Dorian thought for a moment and concluded that he did feel just a bit happier when he summoned the substance. That, and a few other feelings, though muffled. ¡°A little bit, I also feel... safe? I guess I''m not very sure.¡±


    ¡°How about control, can you reach it out and touch my finger?¡± He said as he raised a finger. Dorian nodded, whipping out the cord to make a wet sounding slap against the mans raised pointer.


    ¡°Excellent control, and you don''t seem to have a hard time opening the gates as it seems.¡± Brother Michael looked thoughtful for a moment. ¡°Okay Dorian, please leave us to discuss a little while longer, perhaps your well-intended tutor and I can come to a compromise about something. Go on now.¡±As Dorian walked away, he could hear Brother Michael tossing out question after question. ¡°Has he been given ample minerals? Has he shown any signs of...¡±


    Their voices faded as he caught sight of something floating through the air. As he stared at it, just a floating spec in the distance, it reached an extremity out at a patiently slow speed. Dorian didn''t know why but he felt nauseous as he watched the thing just hovering there. A mass of light erupted from the spec and at speeds that likely wouldn''t have been visible at a regular time scale, Dorian watched as the Grand Elder shaped. The Colosseum, a megalithic structure even larger than the Grand Elder''s sanctuary, was flattened in less than a moment. Dorian could feel the entire mountain shaking beneath him, and somewhere in his mind he had the faint fear the mountain would collapse.


    Brother Michael and Sister Brenda were suddenly there beside him, watching in wonder. The trace of a swirling black line sank from the Grand Elder, and from that, pulses of light flowed. Snapping out of the ground in beautiful spirals, columns rose. From the columns, walls stretched out, connecting to each other. It was a stunning sight to behold, never in Dorian''s wildest dreams had he ever seen such awesome power. A sinking feeling churned in his guts, a light hum pulsing there for a moment.


    Brother Michael came into his frame of view and looked at him. ¡°Eat something that didn''t agree?¡± Dorian shrugged. Brother Michael looked curious for a moment then sighed. ¡°Not every day you see a Colosseum built in front of your very eye.¡± Dorian nodded, not sure what to say. It was unbelievable to behold, but something didn''t feel right about it. He felt unclean about this for some reason.


    Breaking Dorian''s thoughts, Sister Brenda spoke. ¡°As much as I''d like to watch this all unfold, we have work to do young Dorian. Do you know why Brother Michael is here?¡± Her tone was instructional, not reprimanding.


    ¡°He said something about when I shouted at Danny.¡± Just mentioning the lanky bastard''s name brought a sour feeling, but he let it pass. For now.


    ¡°Indeed. Do you know what you did when you shouted at him like that?¡±


    ¡°Uh, not really. I was a little busy, and I might have lost my temper a bit. He''s pompous, and selfish, and to be honest he rubs me the wrong way.¡±


    An eyebrow lurched as he said it, and he already knew what he had done wrong. ¡°My apologies, Sister. I mean to say, Danny and I have different views on how we ought to treat people, at times those differences led us to petty arguments that have compounded. He misinterprets my intentions, as I''m sure I do the same to him. I fear that the rift between us is broad enough that it can''t be amended, and even if it could I doubt we would have enough time before the final trial to aptly correct these perpetual misinterpretations.¡±


    ¡°Very good Dorian, but there is still the matter of what happened. You lost your temper a bit, you said, but I don''t think that''s all. What you technically did is overpower Brother Michael''s dampening field. Now, I want you to elaborate and do so honestly. Don''t worry, you won¡¯t be punished here, we just need to know exactly how you felt.¡± Sister Brenda was stony, and as usual absolute in her command.


    Dorian, initially, hadn''t felt comfortable around her. He felt like he was always an inch away from crossing some line with her and she''d be throwing him off the balcony shortly thereafter. To his surprise, Sister Brenda wasn''t the same person in private as she was when she taught classes. She was still strong, structured, and cultured, but she could laugh and smile just as easily as the next when you got her talking. She had a surprisingly twisted sense of humor, once you understood it. She could even be silly from time to time if the mood was on her, but today the mood wasn''t on her one bit.


    ¡°I, uh,¡± Dorian looked to Brother Michael, then back to Sister Brenda. She nodded, and Dorian continued. ¡°I was outraged by that two faced pig. He had no right to humiliate Ingrid, and no right to put himself into the match. I know what it¡¯s like to be mortified by a classmate in front of the class, and in the heat of the moment I just couldn''t stand the idea of somebody intruding with that in the midst of whatever was happening in that circle. For a while, there wasn''t anything else. I felt, well,¡± Dorian rubbed the back of his head searching for words. ¡°I felt like I was really myself in there, not the person everyone expects me to be but myself, whole and true. Then he had to find an excuse to ruin that, and he didn''t have any right to, save for his own self-importance and need to objectify anything with two legs. He''s a Gods forsaken mis-¡± Sister Brenda patted him on the arm, cutting off his harsh words.


    ¡°Wait,¡± came Brother Michael''s voice. ¡°Sister, I have an idea.¡±


    Sister Brenda looked over scowling. ¡°I think I know where you''re going with this and I''m not sure I like it.¡±


    ¡°Humor me.¡± His stare was just as flat as hers, and Dorian wondered if he''d be roasted alive if he stayed between the two long enough.


    ¡°Dorian, turn to me and summon your Gia, as much as you can. Quickly now.¡±


    Dorian did as he was told, staring up at Brother Michael.


    Surprisingly animated, Brother Michael instructed, ¡°continue what you were saying, but hold on to your Gia.¡±


    Dorian was confused, and he looked at Sister Brenda. Still grimacing, she gave a slow nod and Dorian turned back to Brother Michael, not sure what to say. ¡°Uh, where was I?¡±


    ¡°Tell me why you don''t like Danny, tell me what you feel when you have to altercations with him.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Dorian cleared his throat. ¡°Well, he''s an outright bastard. That son of a Gwendian bitch treats people like crap, especially if he thinks it will get a girl¡¯s attention.¡±


    ¡°Good, that''s good. Keep going.¡± It was odd to hear the Brother''s voice so calm, he was usually shouting in short clipped staccato statements, this was a different side of him Dorian didn¡¯t know existed.


    ¡°He''d throw away his own kin for women or tokens, he''s a Gods damned degenerative low life, living life to the fullest off of the coin of some family he''d never care about even if he did remember them. He''s kicked me out of my own room before, humiliated me, called me fat and stupid, and for whatever reason thinks I''m lazy. That lanky pile of stacked shit doesn''t know the meaning of hard work or honesty and yet has the fucking audacity to tell people nonsensical lies behind my back. He''s a coward, a lecherous mongrel, a parasite to the community of women in the monastery and a disgrace to the codes of honor written by our prophets. He has never been punished for his misdeeds, never once paid in full. When I get the chance to fight him, I''ll rend from him every ounce of flesh needed to balance the scales of my indignity!¡± Dorian was getting really worked up, but the two instructors just gestured him on. With little pause, he continued. ¡°I''m tired of being his whipping post, and as Gwendos as my witness-.¡± Something was happening to his hand, something squirming had appeared there. Whatever it was, it hurt, hurt like every pain he''d ever suffered was happening at once.


    ¡°That''s it Dorian! I knew it! Pull on it, Dorian! Pull on it hard!¡± His choppy commanding voice was back, and in full control once more. Dorian did as he was commanded, and waves of vertigo washed through him from the pain. Tears began forming, then fell down his cheeks. The shame of it pushed more out of him.


    ¡°Yes Dorian, embrace it, embrace that sensation. Go!¡± Brother Michael''s voice was shrill in the whirlwind of his mind.


    Dorian let out a cry and embraced the pain. All his pain, the everyday pain of existence, the shames, the fears, the indignation, both physical and the psychological, he embraced it as his own. In an odd way he took responsibility for them, and in a way felt that they were all deserved. The waves of agony quickened, and then something gave. A torrent of power, driven through the pain, centered on his hand. The black that Dorian could blearily see solidified, and by the Gods did it hurt. It felt the same way Gia had, in the sense that it was an extension of what he could feel, but that''s where the resemblance ended. Where Gia made him giddy, happy, and self-confident, this made him feel dirty. It made him feel like he should be ashamed of it, and the pain reminded him, over and over. The floodgates that had been opened couldn''t be stopped now, it flowed freely, the solidified forms interlinking and covering his upper arm.


    ¡°Okay Dorian, that''s enough now.¡± Came Sister Brenda''s voice.


    It may have been enough, but he couldn''t stop it. Dorian looked at Brother Michael, but where there was excitement before, fear had somehow replaced it.


    ¡°Dorian that''s enough!¡± Brother Michael shouted in his face, but it couldn''t stop this. There was so much more there, a lake of it. An entire valley of it, he knew now that he had only found the beginning of the stream that led elsewhere, but still, the stream couldn''t be stopped now that the damn had been breached.


    Doing did all he could to shut it down, and he wailed in agony for it. The pain stretched across him, and suddenly his arm was covered in a writhing blackness. Then his chest, his neck, his torso. It solidified, curving around him, molding itself to his body.


    ¡°Make it stop!¡± He wailed, then screamed before his head was engulfed and he toppled over, writhing in agony. Then more came, extending itself around him, consuming all it touched. He could feel the grass die beneath him, then the oak. The extension from himself encased the trunk of the oak and began climbing it. He screamed as best he could, but the entire world was numb to him. Just the pain, just the torment, and this power. This overwhelming, abrasive, painful power. The thrumming in his heart was all he could hear now and then waves of ecstasy attached themselves to the pain. And still, he had only made his way to the river, the lake was still a way away, and so he swam on.


    A nudge on his mind came then, like a pounding at the door. Dorian opened the door, seeking escape. The shock wave hit him, forcing him into unconsciousness. Eventually, he found safety in that oblivion, where everything, the world included, faded away.

 Chapter 18 - Kurts Story, Part 3

    The First Elder, what did he know? Sure, he claimed to have met The Three himself, but I always doubted this. As strong as he was, he had a crucial flaw, one that a leader ought not indulge in. Trust is something that shouldn¡¯t be given lightly. The fool died for his trust, and I often wonder, especially when the madness takes me, if I ever was truly worthy of the trust I used to murder him. Though I truly suspect the thought to come from the madness, I smile as I scream. For that was the very moment I came to truly know the thing that dwelled in the Reservoir, and the power that it could bestow. All I had to do was separate the First Elder¡¯s mind, soul, and will. His sacrifice was a small price to pay for such wonderful pain, such wonderful power, such pleasing madness. My screams and my laughter echo in my mind to the image of the betrayed. I know his body is still there, despite the time that has passed, his pieces locked away safely. When those pieces are inevitably freed, it will be too late.


    Kurt rushed over to grab Dorian, leaning against the door frame to scoop his little brother up by the collar. As his head moved passed, he felt an obvious change in pressure. As soon as his ears were through, the sound of a roaring crowd thundered through his eardrums. Dorian was frozen, gawking at one of those things, this one staring in bewilderment right back. He had a more human quality to him than the others as he pointed at the two brothers. He shouted, ¡°Gir-un-tok! Gir-un-tok!¡± Kurt had no idea what the hell that meant, but the reaction of the other ones standing around it was immediate. Ten? Fifteen of them? All started moving towards Kurt and Dorian with haste, Kurt grabbed Dorian by the back of his jacket and pulled him to his feet.


    They were off then, with the speed that only honest fear could bring you. Frantically, they made their way back to where they had started, hearing more and more of those things chattering behind them. Kurt turned his head to gauge distance, when he almost stumbled over. They were hot on their tails, despite being malformed they were surprisingly nimble, two of which were so close that Kurt was able to swing his dory behind himself and nick one of them. It stumbled, its momentum carrying it to a fall.


    The corridor wasn''t wide by any stretch, and as the first fell, several others toppled over them. ¡°Move!¡± Kurt shouted at Dorian. Kurt had to shorten his stride, Dorian didn''t have the length of leg for this kind of speed. Had they not been descending in their run of terror, Dorian would have already gotten them caught. As it was, with the speed Dorian was moving, he had to flail his arms wide to keep himself from stumbling over, which was now the only acceptable speed.


    As they ran past another door it swung open, more of the things coming through. They were just a hair too late opening them, a moment earlier and the two would have ran headlong right into the horde. Instead, Dorian and Kurt whipped past as the hall became darker. Dorian started to falter, slowing a touch in his strides.


    ¡°No time, Dor, we have to keep moving.¡± Kurt said, pushing his brother from behind.


    ¡°I can''t,¡± Dorian replied between breathes. Bear scat, Kurt knew his little brother wouldn''t be able to make the run all the way back, and what if they did? Where did they go from there? Though Dorian had a whole lot of heart, it wouldn''t be enough in this circumstance, and Kurt didn''t have the heart to leave him behind. Coming to a particularly dark spot, they slowed for a moment, catching their breath.


    Dorian was near enough to have a breathing attack, the sound of his gasping echoed across the stone walls with each ragged breath. That''s when Kurt heard more doors opening, this time in front of them rather than behind.


    A now desperate Kurt was moving his way along the wall, dragging an exhausted Dorian behind. They came to the room with the platform and levers. As they headed in, they were spotted by a real ugly bastard, nose audaciously large and a rounded head that was covered in warts. Kurt wouldn''t have been able to make it out if not for how oddly reflective those warts were.


    ¡°Stakich-Kuruk!¡± The thing said as they closed the doors.


    ¡°Get on the platform and pull the lever, I''m gonna bar the door. Go! Now!¡±


    Dorian didn''t waste any time, he headed over to the platform, pulling the lever as he hopped up. The ceiling above began to part, and the roiling chatter of the massive crowd began filling the chamber. Kurt finally lodged the dory in place, and ran towards the platform. He hopped up, having to push off the platform with his hands to make his way up. He stood just in time to make a rude gesture at the door that was suddenly swarming with those things. Dorian joined him, and together they laughed at their would-be attackers as the image of the creatures slowly vanished beneath them.


    The light was very bright, and they hadn''t noticed its intensity because they were focused on taunting their pursuers. When they looked up, their eyes had difficulty adjusting to the light after spending so much time in the dark.


    The first thing Kurt could make out were the rocks strewn about the place, creating small mounds and uneven surfaces, then more open spaces. As the platform came to a halt, Kurt noticed a sudden silence. At some time during their ascent the roaring sound had stopped. Kurt could now make out walls surrounding the area, but only as he raised his hand to shadow the light.


    ¡°Kurt¡± Dorian called, something in his voice. An uneven tone, something he had only heard once before, when they had to fight a mountain lion. Kurt looked back at him, but Dorian only stared at something off to the side of him. His eyes getting clearer now, Kurt followed Dorian''s gaze.


    ¡°By the gods.¡± Dorian whimpered.


    Before them, more than twenty yards tall were sheer stone walls, leading to row upon row of stone chairs. It wasn''t as large as the Colosseum in the north, but this was still huge. And whatever these things were, there was a whole hell of a lot of ''em filling this place up.


    The field they stood on was about forty by eighty yards, large enough for any number of the creatures to show up down there with them. It was a terrifying thought, but an odd and insatiable lust for violence had surged within him. The sensation wasn¡¯t natural, it was forced, like an oppressive shadow had descended on his mind. Kurt began feeling reckless, despite this stupid situation, whatever the hell they had done to get there, they were there now.


    ¡°Hey, assholes!¡± Kurt called out, breaking the quiet. ¡°How many more of you do I have to kill to get the hell out of this shit hole?!¡± The words ¡°shit hole¡± echoed back to him, and the hush over the crooked crowd continued. After a moment, a cracking noise began. From high up, an archway above revealed a private balcony center to the field. The cracking noise began there and spread like a wave, abruptly the ground seemed to shake to the ¡°Kkek-kkek-kkek.¡±


    Then, just as quickly, the sound stopped. ¡°Kratk-kug, chulanjuer!¡± The voice that bellowed was old but masculine. A roar followed; this sounding much more human-like. Kurt felt his stomach drop and moved to Dorian. He was dusting himself off, oddly enough.


    Kurt made a face at him. ¡°Any ideas?¡± Kurt shouted through the booming noise.


    ¡°Yeah, we''ll be okay. I''ve got my juice back.¡± Dorian said, then pointing to a drop gate, he gestured.


    It got quiet again. That voice spoke again, carrying well from the amphitheater like effect.


    ¡°Kou ask? Kow many you musk kiyy to leave?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, how many?¡± Kurt shouted back, demanding in his tone.


    ¡°K-k-if you k-can past three-k-tests of stren-k-th, k-I will grant k-you safe pass-k-age.¡±


    Kurt''s eyebrow raised to the thing, though he knew that he couldn''t see it. ¡°That simple? I''ve already killed two, show me the third.¡± He pointed his finger down, but the shape in the distance shook his head.


    ¡°Three tests-k. Take-k-it or we will have -k-meat tonight, you-k-see, many mouths to feed-k.¡± Even though he couldn''t make out the thing that spoke, Kurt knew it was smiling.


    Grim faced, Kurt nodded. ¡°Show me your worst.¡±


    ¡°Kit-shaid Shak-im-ueur!¡± The crowd went wild. ¡°Utka-issen raed!¡± The voice boomed as the figure sat. You want a show? Fine by me.


    The drop gate Dorian had gestured to slowly raised. A large shadow was cast out from the light coming from behind it. As it stepped out of the gate, shadow stretching long, came an enormous creature. It was malformed like the others, its arms however were unrealistically large compared to its legs. He stepped forward walking with his arms between steps. One was longer than the other, enough that when the thing moved it looked like it had a hump.


    Stepping forward the haggard looking Giant roared, raising its fists and spinning about. The crowd went wild while Kurt thought desperately about what to do. He needed a weapon.


    Kurt turned in time to see the saber Dorian had grabbed earlier bouncing on the ground in front of him. From the other side a moving ball of mass sped past him. Kurt turned to follow, seeing Dorian bounding up a large boulder at unbelievable speed. Unbelievable speed for a fat ten year old that is. Dorian bounded up a slanted boulder aiming himself towards their first opponent.


    Dorian leaped taking stone pieces with him. When he should have fallen short, he just kept going, as though shot from a sling. Too dumbstruck by the spectacle, Kurt didn''t move. Mouth agape, he watched as about a hundred and eighty pounds flew toward the Giant''s face. Coming down with both hands, he smashed his hands down. The Giant toppled like something had ripped it to the ground. And there was Dorian, shouting at the thing as he brutalized it. He looked like a great ape, like the ones in the deep Wilds. Kurt had seen what those things could do to a passerby, it wasn''t pretty. Dorian smashed down with both hands over and over just like one of those apes. At first there was a wail, then a muffled shout and gurgling. After a long moment the only sound that resonated in the chamber was that of meat slapping or being tenderized.


    When Dorian stopped he stood up, covered in gore. He smiled at Kurt. ¡°Do I get extra points? Ooh, ooh, tell me I get extra points!¡± He laughed a bit at the end there, something that both reassured and unnerved Kurt at the same time.


    ¡°Yes, Dorian, you get extra points.¡± Kurt pinched the upper part of his nose as he sighed, mostly silence from the stunned crowd. A whisper began, then more audibly. ¡°Vassu, vassu,¡± the creatures said, pointing down at Dorian.


    ¡°Kit-ket Ghorrukar, if k-you want to play k-games vessel, k-you should-k k-have said so.¡± A voice came from above.


    As he spoke Kurt retrieved the saber. Hefting it in his hands, he felt like he''d rather go without. He wasn''t used to the weight, he didn''t have a counterbalance. Then again, he''d never held so much raw steel in his life before, it could fetch a fortune with the smiths. If a staff was deadly, Kurt mused, how deadly could this be?Stolen story; please report.


    Dorian had made his way over to Kurt, and Kurt moved to intercept him. With a deep hum, the ground shook. Black masses seemed to shape themselves around Dorian in a cage-like structure, stone solidifying around it. Dorian moved to break it but found he couldn''t. He thrashed, like a beast caught in a trap. For all intents, he was.


    A distant wall began to part, not a drop gate. This appeared to move on its own accord, another room behind it.


    Only two torches adorned the large chamber, a black mass shambling towards them. Kurt made over to Dorian''s cage, trying to break it with the saber. The stone wasn''t overly thick, it didn''t make sense. Kurt kept at it, trying to get it to chip away.


    ¡°Kurt¡± Dorian said, ¡°you might want to give that a break.¡± As he said it, the saber broke.


    ¡°Ah, you jinxed it! It was gonna give!¡± Kurt yelled at him, only now noticing the pale expression plastered on Dorian''s face. Turning, Kurt saw a walking legend.


    A Great Bear was walking towards them, massive in size. Kurt had seen long tables smaller than this thing, its maw large enough to fit Kurts entire torso.


    ¡°Dor, uh, any ideas?¡± Kurt asked.


    Dorian took a moment, pensive. ¡°Yeah, take Ohmer, he''ll know what to do.¡± Dorian gestured out with his hand, and something resembling the dory from before shot out. This time it was a bit longer, better sized to his own height, but with odd curves as though it was made piecemeal from smaller parts. ¡°Keep him busy while I get out of this thing.¡± Dorian said, a tinge of worry to his voice.


    ¡°This is worth so many more points.¡± Kurt said, and he headed out to meet the bear halfway. Maybe scare it away? Keep it away from Dorian until he got out, and he could make more mincemeat. That seemed to work well enough last time. As Kurt jogged out, the dory vibrated in his hands. Was it humming?


    ¡°Ohmer? Is that you?¡± Kurt asked between breaths. It hummed louder. Okay, I could work with this, he thought as he wondered at the versatile Garru.


    Approaching a point to intersect the bear, he kept having odd sensations, something like a desire to action. It was making him feel brash and agitated, an aching that only violence could cure. The unerring pressure from this place, it made him¡­ angry. He took his ground, planting the dory.


    The Great Bear approached, huffing through its nose before sitting on its haunches. With a boom it roared, maw opening wide to display massive teeth. Kurt bellowed a response, but not in humor. There wasn''t any joke in his manor, rising to the challenge, Kurt charged, as did the bear.


    Just before they met, Kurt pivoted, using the dory to turn sharper than expected. Seeing a large paw coming at him, he rolled with the turn. Coming up, he whipped the dory out hoping to slash at the beast''s foreleg. Instead of staying straight, it arched creating a whip like motion, blade point extending.


    The bear pulled back, not expecting the counter. It roared in indignation, and for the briefest moment the urge for violence was called back. Now that he wasn''t driven by anger, for a moment he wondered what in the actual fuck am I doing?


    He ran then, moving to get high ground on the creature. Finding the sloped stone Dorian had leaped off earlier, he turned to face the bear. It wasn''t far behind, and it was closing quickly. Kurt gave himself some space to maneuver, picking a good place to take advantage.


    Then the urge for violence was back, stronger than ever. Rage enveloped him, he saw the bear and charged. Coming in close, he took a sideways leap, lashing out a stab as he did. Ohmer extended his dory-self, poking the bear once in the side, then again at the foreleg. The beast was becoming hobbled now, which was his general tactic. Maim before the kill.


    Another strike caught the paw on the opposing front leg, the bear now getting incredibly agitated. It limped after Kurt but caught another two strikes in the side for its efforts. Ohmer was more of a whip now, one that was deadly accurate. Coming back around, Kurt slashed out but nothing was in his hands. Glancing back, Ohmer was suspended in mid-air, looking very different from his usual self. He looked to resemble a dominant predatory cat, except his snout was extended like a coyote. He now had four nimble legs dangling beneath him. Kurt had never seen a Garru like that before.


    ¡°K-k-knot very fair.¡± A voice sounded from above. Hovering above them, the figure from before spoke. ¡°Ki''ins tu k-knooat. Vassu Kracken, etka Priyu.¡± The crowd gasped out in wonder, ¡°priyu, priyu,¡± they muttered. Then some started shrieking, the sound so terrifying that it immobilized Kurt for the moment.


    In that moment, despite whatever the crowd was going on about, the Great Bear finally found his mark. Last moment, as the massive beast reared its paw back to strike, Kurt stepped in. The result was the most jarring experience of his young life, one moment his vision was that of black fur, the next moment everything blurred past as he was ripped off his feet. A few pops sounded from his side as he was struck, and a few more after he bounced off the ground once, twice, then rolling to a stop. As luck would have it, as he was struck, he was flung up the slope of the stone, landing and letting an arm dangle over the side. He knew he was unreasonably lucky but wasn''t surprised. He''d get out of this one yet.


    Sitting up, wincing in pain, he coughed once. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he didn''t have the energy, or the care, to cover it. He was delirious, head swimming as he tried to make sense of what was around him. A black shape in front of him was limping its way towards him. He heard the speaker again, this time Kurt could understand him.


    ¡°Ah, a Priorius and a broken vessel. This must be his work.¡± The hovering figure lowered himself a little, and Kurt could finally start to make out some details. It was covered pustules, and was pale like snow. His eyes though, they were a glowing dark green, menacing like a stalking great cat. ¡°He''s been trying to-k breed an army of k-you for ten millennium, maybe more.¡± His chortling came out like crackling, a series of k-k-k-k. It was a horror. ¡°Would k-you like to see-k why?¡±


    The arm of this thing came up, a tendril of green light reaching out to Kurt. He''d have moved if he could, but every breath was debilitating as breathing shot lances of pain throughout his body. The light was suddenly on him, smothering him completely. All he saw was a jarringly bright light for a moment, before he could finally see everything in unbelievable detail.


    ¡°Sh-k-all we try rage?¡± He heard, the crowd now silent, the only noises the bear moving in for the kill.


    A pulse ran through Kurt, like before he was innervated by the desire to move, then it was intensified. It washed over him, through his mind, through every bit of himself. His soul was on fire, all he knew was outrage, indignation, fury, and wrath. He stood, no longer in pain, fully enthralled with the fight.


    With the bellowing cry of a rabid animal, he bounded towards the bear. He had no thoughts as he leaped in, surprising the beast. He struck out three times in quick succession, hitting the large animal¡¯s ribs as he ducked a blow. Keeping light on his feet, he kept circling, striking the bear¡¯s hind leg at the joint twice before continuing. As Kurt was fully behind the bear, he grabbed on to the fur. It spun, but Kurt''s grip was the steel of fury, and nothing short of the Gods would deny him as he held fast to the gargantuan beast.


    It spun several times, trying to get at Kurt. Every time it stopped, Kurt would climb farther onto its back, treating its thick coat like rungs in a latter.


    ¡°Docility.¡± Something said, and a pulse echoed through Kurt. He was confused for a moment. What was he doing? His hands and body hurt, why was he hanging on to this rug. No matter, he thought as he let go. Sliding off the bear, he landed hard but couldn''t be bothered by it. He knew he should get up, but why?


    The bear turned on him and slowly made his way over. ¡°Kurt!¡± A voice cried. ¡°Kurt! Get up Kurt! Get up!¡± The crying voice seemed to be wailing, crying maybe? The bear stood over him now. ¡°Get up Kurt! Now! Kurt!¡± The bear arched up and pounded down with its forelegs. The air left him, and he knew that what just happened should have killed him. It reeled back to do it again, then a shout.


    There weren''t any words to the vocalization, but a deep bellowing boom followed it. Then his pain came back. Another shout, all primal, echoed and this one carried a wave with it. The sound was Dorian, and Kurt could suddenly feel his anger, his distress. The bear had been affected somehow too, and was backing away, looking like it was going to sick up.


    It did, after several convulsions, a black mass erupted from its mouth. Unlike normal vomit, this kept going, it grew until its size near matched the bear. The bear, now brown, looked at the mass and began to flee. The mass writhed, and began to chase the frightened animal. As it did, a beam of bright light shot out, grasping the mass. ¡°No!¡± A cry from above called.


    The black mass became all points, jagged and hard, rolling in to the light. Kurt followed it, but it was so fast he wouldn''t have believed it if he hadn''t seen it. It slammed into Dorian''s cage, toppling it over. The mass moved, squirming back and forth, slowly disappearing until nothing but Dorian and the cage were left.


    Another boom followed, and the cage erupted. Standing there, Dorian, plump and disheveled and young, now bore an expression of scorn. The malice in his lightly glowing eyes was palpable, it made Kurt shiver for just a moment.


    ¡°Kareck-tar Gnokish-tar trienke?!¡± Dorian said to the creature above.


    With a sneer the thing responded. ¡°Ikken farshek, ukon fur shin Moder. Shet ki!¡±


    Ohmer had been suspended there, trying to move but unable. The green line connecting it to the thing glowed for a moment, then ever so lightly it drifted upwards. The manling reached out, grabbing Ohmer by the neck and squeezing it back. Ohmer stopped moving. The evil looking thing chuckled in a ¡°kek kek kek.¡±


    It tilted its head at Dorian. Dorian said, ¡°Moder, kitek mikos Garru.¡± It chuckled in response. ¡°Ketok priyu shashak. Karrah, sharek, kishet trak. K-you will see, there is no,¡± it gasped for a moment, a shriek echoing through the somberly quiet chamber. ¡°Point.¡±


    ¡°Ki!¡± Dorian bellowed, ¡°Ki Moder, Ki!¡± A hum emanated from Ohmer, unsettling. It was fear.


    ¡°Kii! Kii!¡± Dorian screamed, tears falling down his face.


    The creature, Moder, Kurt assumed, stared down at Dorian. It began Sending as it spoke its own words, Kurt understanding them despite the clicks and gravelly voice. ¡°You were meant to be here, for you have found them. In this, so close to the end, he returns, and in me his power will be reborn. I will know freedom once more!¡± Without looking away, it broke Ohmer with a bone curdling twist. Loud pops sounded as Moder continued to twist. Then, Moder couldn''t twist anymore. It held Ohmer out by the neck, reaching out with a clawed hand. Kurt didn''t know how much strength it would require doing it, but Moder ran his other hand down the neck and stripping the skin straight off the Garru. Whatever corpse lie beneath, it glinted like a crystal.


    Dorian was wailing now, the pain in those shrieks would likely haunt Kurt onto his dying day, which may yet be this day. Kurt would have comforted his brother if he could move. He might have broken his back and was in no shape to do anything else but sit and watch.


    As Dorian shook with grief, his wailing slowly evolved into outrage. Kurt could still make out the tears falling down his little brother''s face, and if a tear left his own eyes, he knew no shame for it. After a long series of sobs, Dorian paused. He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment. That''s right Dorian, remember the stave practice, remember self-control, remember to breath. Dorian''s eyes opened, and the sight scared Kurt down to his broken bones.


    Dorian''s irises were completely gone, the light that shone through them so bright Kurt wanted to shield his eyes, but couldn''t. The wail that reverberated from the chamber was feral, the scream carried with it pulses of force, debris suddenly being flung away from him. A pause, and Dorian screamed again, this time even louder, and the force doubled in intensity. Moder shot a hand out, trying to do something, but Dorian snarled. Possessed, he gestured to his side, a boulder flew into the air, curving as it caught Moder.


    The boulder curved again, this time heading straight for the ground at alarming speed. Then another wave came from Dorian, and like diving into a lake in winter, Kurt did everything he could not to gasp in surprise. He could feel Dorian, could feel the depths of his pain. Kurt knew he was in bad shape, but the pain he felt from Dorian was unbelievable by comparison. Humiliation, outrage, grief, loss, indignation, hurt, loneliness, and so much more. It was abrasive, like diving headlong into a winter lake.


    The boulder landed near Kurt, no more than ten yards from him, but he couldn''t care. This new pain, this agony was all. Dorian walked, steady but sure, towards the boulder. His hand arced out, and the boulder melted around Moder. The melted stone solidified in a kind of chair, tilted oddly, holding Moder out in front. Kurt could see, despite the tears running down his face, that Moder too was crying.


    ¡°K-you are the one...¡± Moder said between gasping breaths. He sobbed, then said, ¡°I''ve been waiting so long for...¡±


    ¡°You animal!¡± Dorian snarled in the creature''s face, and with the word ¡°animal¡± came another pulse of pressure. The sound of small rocks hitting the ground around them was of little concern to Kurt at that moment, though he did begin to worry that the chamber would collapse if this kept up.


    ¡°K-I can give him back, the-k Garru.¡± Moder wheezed. ¡°I can show you the secrets.¡± It said before gasping. The stone around Moder flexed, constricting on it.


    ¡°Ikkon shiatska karish ka.¡± Moder whispered. Dorian stopped, standing in front of him.


    ¡°In exchange? What would I want from you other than how to get Ohmer back?¡± Dorian''s glowing eyes dimmed as logic began to win out.


    ¡°Kikesh, freedom. You will be captured by-k k-him. K-you know who I speak of, but k-you know not k-what it k-will take.¡± An arm reached out, holding the crystalline corpse of Ohmer. ¡°K-he is like me, k-he is undying. There k-is a way for us both to-k be-k free. K-I have waded thkough so much pain, k-waiting for k-him. I k-thought it wou-k-ld be me, but it k-must be you. K-you are k-it, k-you are the k-k-k vessel.¡±


    Dorian stood, thinking. With a wave of his arm, Moder''s prison melted away, and the ugly pale creature smiled. ¡°Let k-us first take care of that one.¡± Moder said, gesturing to Kurt. A green light flashed, then black.

 Chapter 19 - Hurt

    I knew my time in this body had finally come to an end when I reconstructed the Colosseum. For a brief instance I had thought I had seen a former self gathering power in a distant courtyard. For a moment, fleeting as it was, I felt a rush of fear. It was the first time in centuries I had felt that, and the rush of it left me somewhere between dread and excitement. Sadly, I knew it was a hallucination, which plagues me every time my body is near its time. This one has served me well, better than most. I had thought that maybe the engine was ready, that it may be this body that I succeed in my seemingly eternal quest. Alas, I must take one more before my day of glory.


    It might be upsetting to some, but what¡¯s one more tally in my long list? What¡¯s one more on my path to damnation?


    Dazed, Dorian was wracked with a sudden sensation of guilt. Unsure why, he opened his eyes to a cooing Sister Brenda. Her concerned look didn¡¯t match her face, where her usual doer expression carried lines on her face, this one didn¡¯t. For some reason it felt very endearing to him, so instead of doing what he would normally do, ruin the moment by saying something crass, he held his tongue.


    ¡°There, there,¡± she said as she hugged Dorian¡¯s head. What was going on?


    Sister Brenda sat Dorian¡¯s head down on something rough. He sat up quickly and instantly regretted it. His vision spun slightly, and he had to steady himself by hugging his knees.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have that, well done Sister.¡± Movement behind him, Dorian recognized the barking voice of Brother Michael. Dorian closed his eyes, hoping it would stop the world from spinning. He quickly found the thought to be a false supposition. He could hear voices nearby, muffled and nonsensical, like the indistinct murmur of a conversation he wasn¡¯t paying attention to. One voice rose with a questioning lilt, and another replied with what might as well have been gibberish. It reminded him of a warped melody, something vaguely familiar but utterly incomprehensible in his foggy state.


    Opening his eyes, he focused on his hands. Gradually, everything became clear, and after a moment, he realized that the indistinct noise he had been hearing was his teachers arguing nearby.


    Mustering himself, he came to the decision that he¡¯d like to have a say-so in whatever the hell was going on.


    ¡°It¡¯s not as though this is a simple affair, you saw what I did. You know what this will mean to the Arcanum, and if the Thirane  find out about this, by the Gods there will be trouble. Now what are you going to do?¡± Brother Michael said, sounding more like a statement than a question.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Sister Brenda took a breath and said, ¡°I don¡¯t know yet, Michael.¡± She looked away, not out of shame, but in an attempt to think clearly.


    ¡°Come now, Brenda.¡± The Brother¡¯s voice becoming suddenly patient. ¡°You know he¡¯s just a boy, I know you¡¯re stern and stubborn. You¡¯ve always been the one to follow the rules, but ever so often you must listen to your gut. What¡¯s it telling you now?¡±


    Pensive, she sighed out, ¡°my gut is telling me I¡¯ve made enough exceptions for the boy, and that the amount of dung I¡¯ll be stacked in, if I allow this to go undocumented, will be absurd.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember the last early Ascension?¡±


    Sister Brenda winced, then nodded. ¡°Yes, and she was too young by half..¡±


    Brother Michael gestured towards Dorian, unexpectedly realizing his presence as his hand extended. His eyes widened in alarm momentarily before he composed himself, a look of embarrassment crossing his face. Not unlike a child caught stealing treats, except it was his athletics instructor, which made the expression look odd in Dorian¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Dorian,¡± he said, ¡°so nice of you to join us.¡± The tone of his voice sounded like he was trying to save face, but knew there was no real way for him to do that at this point. Looking chagrined, he coughed into his hand, as if on cue Sister Brenda started speaking.


    ¡°Initiate, I think what Brother Michael was going to say is that he was just stepping out, as you and I have much to discuss.¡± She leveled a glare at Brother Michael, one that Dorian decided to put to memory. That kind of a glare could come in handy, it said ¡°if you don''t leave now, you''ll do so in a moment, either emotionally or physically harmed.¡± A look like that belonged on an older face, but on Sister Brenda it seemed to fit.


    ¡°Yes, young Dorian, I look forward to seeing you in three days. We will speak of this again,¡± he looked to Sister Brenda, then back to Dorian. He nodded, throwing on his robes, he took his leave from the courtyard.


    Sister Brenda let out a long sigh, when Dorian looked at her, she was in an iconic pose of consternation. She had her eyes shut and was pinching the bridge of her nose.  She spoke without changing her pose. ¡°Dorian, there is a bit of explaining due, but more importantly,¡± her eyes snapped open, ¡°what in the name of the lesser Gods was that?! You killed my tree!¡± She pointed to the dead oak, sundered on one side, leaves already wilting. ¡°Uh, sorry?¡±


    The conversation wasn''t long, but the lecture associated with it was. Sister Brenda primarily provided him with information about what was theorized to be the opposite of Gia. Shade, also sometimes referred to as Kraken, which was a nickname given by the second Grand Elder. The Elder''s pet name for it was inspired by the mythical sea creature due to its movements when not under direct control. If Gia was the power of life, then Shade was the power of death, in theory. The interplay between the two wasn''t exactly such, but comparable enough for the metaphor to work. This was described to Dorian in six different ways, but all effectively meant the same thing. When it had finally sunk into Dorian''s thick skull his eyes widened, and he became alarmed. ¡°Wait, Sister, please. Does this mean I''m cursed or something?!¡±


    Sister Brenda chuckled heartily over the statement for a little while. After a moment she held her hand out, visage abruptly intense, a black mass solidified in her palm and extended in a solid shape. Before his eyes a stave was formed, but at the ends they curved out in three prongs, almost like a flower. She twisted it, and it shrunk down until the three prongs rested snugly against her hand. ¡°No, Dorian, you aren''t cursed.¡± She smiled and the black went soft, then disappeared into her hand. Dorian was entranced by the sight. ¡°You do have a fair bit more than I''ve ever seen, save The Elder himself.¡± She commented absently. "Most students don''t access this side, or the other, until they are eighteen. Even then, summoning and solidifying it is rare. We aren¡¯t even supposed to train the initiates, I only took to instructing you because I knew something was off with your cultivation.¡± She grew somber then, as though the following words were heavy. ¡°Shade is the basis for which most are allowed to become a Brother or Sister of the Path.¡±


    ¡°As odd as it sounds, Sister Brenda, I''ve never understood what that meant. Path to where? To what?¡±


    ¡°That isn''t something I''d like to comment on as of yet, master Dorian. What I will say is that technically, and I mean technically, you should at this moment take to either ascension or become a brother.¡± She took a moment to let that settle in, as if Dorian¡¯s brow wasn¡¯t heavy enough. Ascension? Now?


    A long moment passed before Sister Brenda stared at him. Unblinking she said, ¡°but that''s not what''s going to happen.¡±


    Dorian''s eyebrows shot up, ¡°so what is going to happen, Sister?¡±


    She took a deep breath and turned her gaze to the valley. ¡°I¡¯ll continue your private tutoring, help you learn to control this, and hopefully, before your eighteenth, we can figure out what¡¯s blocking your Gia and wake it up.¡± She turned back to Dorian then said, ¡°but before we do any of that, I need to clean this courtyard.¡±


    Dorian gave her a curious look, but the Sister only smiled. She summoned an orb of Gia, the sphere lofted there above her palm when black tendrils swarmed it. Within the sphere the Shade shifted and swirled, but in the center, Dorian could make out a distinctive shape. It looked like a crescent moon, but with the points pointed up rather than to the side. With a snap, force leaped from the sphere shooting out to the dead Oak tree. It began degrading, and rapidly. Within moments the towering oak was nothing more than black dirt. Dorian gaped open mouthed at the display and looked over to see Sister Brenda grinning. Walking up to Dorian she said, ¡°And guess what you get to do for the rest of class today?¡± He tilted his head as she reached out and closed his hand around something. As he looked to inspect it, he found an acorn. Shit.


    For the next two hours Dorian did all he could to begin the restoration of the stunning oak tree. He was able to grow it to a sapling, but little else beyond that. Still, Dorian had a feeling that Sister Brenda would be using the young oak to stretch the reserves of his Gia for the next several weeks, a process that left him more exhausted than any kind of physical activity.  It was draining, from what he understood if he drained himself too far, he could become completely insensate. All living things used Gia, and if you drained something of it completely it would die, inevitably. Not right away, but if you drained a thing long enough, apparently you could kill it, a rule which also included oneself. Dorian couldn''t manipulate Gia that wasn''t his own, not yet at least, so stretching his reserves was always done with caution in mind.


    When they finished the private tutoring, they exchanged some general pleasantries, and Sister Brenda stated, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn''t to discuss this with anybody. She expressed this to him three or four times, each of which was delivered with the absolution of an angry god. Whether it be fear or respect he couldn''t be sure, but he vowed he''d keep the entire ordeal between Brother Michael, Sister Brenda, the Gods and himself.


    Glad to be done with the day, Dorian gathered his things and headed back to his rooms, hoping to steal some quiet time for himself. He was tired from stretching his Gia and thought a small nap before dinner sounded like a small piece of the divine. Wary of running into Danny, he took the long way up, taking the easternmost stairwell up three flights, then taking the long corridor down to the dormitory section. Doing this involved a series of short corridors and hallways that inevitably circled back to his room, and if he were spotted by his asinine roomy, Dorian would be able to duck down a hall. The reality of his relationship with Danny was that Danny, among other things, was a bully. Dorian had a tendency to be entirely too nice and often found himself scorned or made fun of for it. It wasn''t that he thought himself weak, he just liked to give people the benefit of doubt. When Dorian first met Danny, he figured the guy was just having a bad day. Then he thought it might be a bad week. By the end of the first month, it was clear¡ªDanny was just that kind of person.


    It was early one evening, about a month in, when Danny barged into their shared room with a few Brutes in tow. They spent the better part of an hour harassing Dorian before literally throwing him out of his own space. From that point on, anytime Danny had company, he¡¯d order Dorian to leave. If Dorian was busy or trying to sleep, Danny would simply remind him of how many of his friends were Brutes. It was always the same unspoken threat, and Dorian learned to leave willingly rather than risk being forced out.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Most of the time, he returned to find his belongings in complete disarray¡ªif they hadn¡¯t gone missing altogether. That was why Dorian had started stashing his spare Vega tokens with Jack. Jack might¡¯ve been a bit na?ve, sure, but there wasn¡¯t a soul more honest or dependable. Dorian had never explained to him why he needed someone to safeguard his tokens; he feared Jack would take issue with how Danny treated him. And if Jack got involved, there¡¯d be trouble.


    It was easier, or perhaps safer, to just endure it. Only one more year, Dorian told himself. One more year, and I¡¯ll have a new roommate.


    This, and a few other unpleasant instances, were precisely the reasons why Dorian didn''t like Danny. The reasons Danny didn''t like Dorian was an honest mystery to Dorian, but he decided to settle on the belief that Danny was a dick because he could be, and some people were just like that. Because of this Dorian did what he could to limit the time he spent in his rooms, but by the grace of Gwendos, he needed a nap.


    Finally making it to the adjacent hall, he peeked around the corner noting that the door was shut. He quietly opened it a slant. Lights off and silent, Dorian opened the door. He lightly touched the Giastone switch, and a light kicked on. He smiled at the fact that the light had broken earlier, which is why Danny was so late for class. It was a bit passive aggressive, but the few victories Dorian could win for himself, he had to savor. He went to his wardrobe and retrieved a small device given to each initiate. Basically, it was an hourglass you could attach to the Giastone switch by the door, when the bottom filled enough it would activate the switch thus shutting or turning on the light in your room. He attached it to its place, hit the switch, and stumbled over to his pallet. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.


    Dorian dreamed, not the heavy serious sort, but the simple sort. He stood at the balcony of the courtyard, arms resting on the ledge as he watched a thunderstorm cutting across the valley. Despite the awesome power of the storm, the gusts and lightning only served as an amusement to him. The storm a reminder of the power of nature, and the power of the Gods. Then the rain came, just as the first raindrop struck his chest, it seemed to radiate pain. Then another, and another, and the thumping continued.


    He opened his eyes to see the shadowy silhouettes of three people swinging down at him. He tried to cover himself, but they were coming down with all speed. The thumps and pains that emanated from the impacts were distinctive, and the abrasive pain that made his chest feel like it was collapsing was all too familiar to him. Each of the individuals had put a few bars of soap inside a woolen sock, it was an easy way to beat somebody without leaving too many bruises. This had happened to Dorian before by Danny''s goons, of which Danny wholeheartedly denied playing a part. Dorian tried to get up, but as soon as he did, a decidedly feminine hand shoved him back against the wall. Dorian¡¯s head hit the cold stone with a sickening crack, sending the world spinning. Curling into a fetal position, he braced himself as the three laughing initiates swung those brutal sacks at him again and again. He tried to look up, but as soon as he had, a blow landed squarely against his nose which took little time to begin gushing.


    They aren''t going to stop this time, he thought in alarm. Without much recourse, he decided he had to get out of there. He rolled towards them, picking one, he vaulted himself towards them. He shoved away at the unknown with all his excessive bulk. The other two kept at their pummeling however, so Dorian covered his head as best he could and shouldered the two others in the dark room. He headed towards the door and was nearly there when a new and paralyzing pain shot through his nether regions. A bout of laughter erupted from the three of them as Dorian fell to the floor clutching his valuables.


    ¡°You-¡± he started to say but was cut off, something hard having collided with his skull. Dazed, he tried to understand where it came from but didn''t have a clue. He started to edge towards the door when Danny''s voice came clear.


    ¡°Dorian, my favorite little fatty, I was so hoping to have a chat with you.¡± Danny¡¯s voice was cheery, as if he was completely satisfied with himself. Dorian''s vision was a bit blurry, but his eyes had finally begun to adapt to the dark room. The light from the cracked door was extremely dim, though he could faintly make out where the speaker was. Danny was squatting down, looking down at Dorian, there was something in his hand. The slanted light from the hall behind Dorian cast Danny in an ominous light. ¡°Don''t ever speak to me the way you did today or there will be,¡± whatever was in his hand began floating on its own accord. Shit, Dorian thought, Danny is telekinetic. ¡°Consequences,¡± and whatever he was holding lashed out. The resounding crack across his temple shook his entire world. Dazed, Dorian curled into himself, trying in vain to shield the parts of his body that hurt the most. The pounding in his ears and the relentless fog of disorientation drowned out the voices around him, reducing them to meaningless noise. A part of him burned with anger, a desperate, smoldering urge to grasp his new power and wield it like a hot poker, consequences be damned. But then, Sister Brenda¡¯s stern gaze flashed in his mind, a silent reminder of the vow he made her. The desire to be reckless abated, the fire inside dimming, slowly replaced with a hollow, aching shame. When he realized he was alone in the room, he was overcome by his emotions. Too disoriented and exhausted, he lay there huddled in on himself. Alone in the dark, cold stone his only companion, Dorian wept.


    He let time go for a while. He brewed on his day, chastising himself for believing that things were getting better. Somehow, he managed to convince himself that he was at fault for everything that had happened. If he had just woken Danny, perhaps his day wouldn''t have gotten so mucked up. Then, he spent a fair amount of time considering if that was true. Not waking Danny led to him destroying a tree and later getting beat senseless. He wondered whether his victories that morning were worth the defeats he felt now. I wouldn''t have gotten so worked up at Danny if he hadn''t already got my only friend removed from class, which was also my fault. Then the mess with the Shade wouldn''t have happened, I wouldn''t have needed a nap, and I wouldn''t have gotten ganged up on. I''d be sitting with my friends, laughing instead of lonely.


    He thought his thoughts in a circular path, but eventually it was the thought of his friends that got him up. Ken could always cheer him up, and he felt like being alone in this kind of mindset wasn''t doing him any favors.


    He straightened, cleared his eyes, and moved to hit the switch, realizing only when he got there that his hourglass had been knocked away. He had no idea what time it was, so he hurried as he cleaned himself up as best he could. On the way, he stopped by the privy and used the wash basic to clear the blood off his face. His nose was swollen, and he felt like his eyebrow had been cut. He could taste the blood from a split lip that was likely swollen as well. He gave a long sigh, and left for the dining hall two floors down.


    On arrival, there were no lines which meant he was either way too early or way too late. Seeing the doors shut to the enclosed section, the actual serving area next to the kitchen, Dorian peeked through the small window in the door. He was surprised to meet the eye of Clarice, the woman who had served him his lunch. She smiled and opened the door quickly.


    ¡°Eager to show off then, are we?¡± Clarice asked, holding the door open to enter.


    Dorian hadn''t spoken in a while and had to clear his throat before speaking. ¡°Uh, yes ma''am. Didn''t have anything better to do anyhow, most classes haven''t finished yet.¡±


    She looked at him, seemingly noticing him for the first time. ¡°Oh dear,¡± she moved to touch his lip but pulled back. She looked him in the eye for a long searching moment. ¡°Come along.¡± She waved and started walking. When Dorian didn''t follow, she just said ¡°now, Initiate.¡±


    Dorian cast his eye downward and followed her feet. There was a small office of sorts where she gestured for him to sit. ¡°Let¡¯s see you then, chin up.¡±


    Dorian felt like a child, sitting there being examined. Clarice took him by the jaw and made a few affirming noises. ¡°You''ll have to excuse me if it¡¯s not perfect.¡±


    A wave of calm washed over Dorian, and for a moment a certain clarity was set upon his sense. He noted the sound of dough being beaten, the smell of the herbs Clarice had handled sometime recently, the callus on her hand from using the obsidian knife. Then he felt all of his recently acquired aches lesson. They didn''t disappear, but they didn''t ache like they had.


    Clarice looked him over, tilting his head back and forth to inspect it. ¡°Quite thorough,¡± Dorian noted aloud.


    ¡°We all had classes here, we know what it can be like.¡± She held his head straight and put a thumb against his temple. ¡°Trained as a healer, I help when I need to. Now tell me if this hurts.¡± She pressed her thumb against his temple hard, Dorian couldn''t bear it for more than a second or two. ¡°Yes,¡± he wheezed out.


    ¡°Well, it''ll do for now. You tell someone if you get headaches for more than two or three days. Now, how are we feeling?¡± She found her own chair and sat, staring pointedly at him.


    ¡°We are feeling much better, thank you.¡± She nodded him to go on. Dorian let the silence drag a bit, then feeling the need to fill the silence he blurted the first thing that came to mind. ¡°I apologize for my state, I didn''t fully inspect myself before I came down. I,¡± he rubbed the back of his head, ¡°I lost track of time.¡±


    She looked at him for a moment and sighed. ¡°Think you''ve got gumption to teach us how to bake?¡±


    Dorian looked up, surprised. He inspected himself briefly and realized that he was there, after all. ¡°Why not?¡± He shrugged.


    She smiled, ¡°good.¡± She ushered him up, ¡°Let me show you where you''ll be working.¡± Businesslike she drew him out of the small office.


    Three hours later, Dorian presented a batch of the ¡°Yule Love It¡± rolls. He had worked up a small sweat near the ovens but had fully committed himself to the task. Despite the condition of the dough he used, he thought it was a success. Clarice smiled broadly after picking up a second roll.


    ¡°Well done, I think we have some notes to take.¡±


    After drilling Dorian for step-by-step instructions on the baked goods, Clarice removed her pen and notebook, and thoroughly suggested he find time to come back and show them from scratch, which would require he get up really early. He agreed to think about it before the end of the night and graciously accepted the two tokens she offered. She then offered to pay him that again if he showed up in the morning, which was too rich of an offer to refuse. That was more than a month''s pay of working steadily, and despite his recent wealth, he was still too frugal to deny the opportunity.


    Taking his prerogative of being a kitchen aid for the day, Dorian was served early and ate a fair portion of cinnamon spiced pork over a sweet potato mash. He took a few apples and an odd citrus fruit to have later. He exchanged some pleasantries and thought about what else he could do to kill time. With nothing coming to mind, he figured he could go to the library. He could catch up with the guys later, it was a rare opportunity to find enough time to privately enjoy the library.


    Scant as the library was on well-conditioned books, just as many were frayed and torn at the edges, the breadth of the books was more than vast enough. Unfortunately, most anything recent put on an overt air of piety.  Like a film over his eyes when he read, he had to look at the books through the guise of the Sister or Brother writing it, and that piety precludes all other notions. It led to absurd rationalizations in some texts that he just couldn''t buy into. A fair portion of the newer texts always contained an entire section of reaffirmations, all of which supported the structure of their society. Explanations as to why it¡¯s taboo to openly discuss your past, or inappropriate to have any preconceptions about somebody''s family name. It may have been ¡°inappropriate¡±, but people still did it all the time, they just didn''t get caught doing it.


    Still, the library offered more than just books and curiosities. It offered solitude, a rare and precious escape. For Dorian, the tangled maze of forgotten shelves and shadowed corners was a refuge from the world¡¯s noise. Here, in the stillness, he could finally be alone. And for now, that was all he needed.

 Chapter 20 - Ravaged

    According to the Grand Elder, leader of our Eden, there was a mistake in the projections. What was meant to save our world did so, but not in the way anyone had expected. When they bent the fabric of our reality to their will, seeking untapped sources to exploit, they stumbled upon something inhuman. The mathematicians, biologists, and scientists of renown were confronted with what the softer sciences had warned of¡ªthe possibility of that which we could not conceive.


    What saved the world threatens now to consume it. The breaches must be contained. Without the reservoir, hell itself might yet break loose upon the earth. I have tasted it, sampled it¡ªmore than once now. Each small taste of that overwhelming abyss that lies beyond, each brush with that taint, feels like a reflection of mankind¡¯s own corruption. The waste of our very souls.


    And yet, I bathe in it. I am drenched in that waste, awash to the point of perpetual, agonizing pleasure. This power, when matched with the other, is why I was drawn there, whether I accept it or not. Every person carried a small piece, but drinking from that untapped well was like tapping into the power of gods.


    And thus, the God I found there was dark. And in finding it, so was I.


    ¡°Kurt, you have to wake up.¡± Another ladle of water over Kurt''s head was just enough to stir him from a dreamless sleep. ¡°You have to listen to me, Kurt, this is important.¡±


    Kurt opened his eyes to a dark torch lit chamber, Dorian on a knee shaking him. Behind Dorian''s prodigious bulk was a clothed figure, hooded robes covering his body, except his hands. His pearly white hands.


    Kurt budged to move, but the pain reminded him he had been hit in his everywhere. He stilled, realizing that he could taste iron. He knew he was in bad shape. He smiled at Dorian, glad to see he was hale.


    ¡°Do it.¡± The figure behind Dorian demanded.


    ¡°I will, calm yourself Moder.¡± Dorian replied, not sounding very young. Dorian sighed, reached down and hefted something that reflected light. It didn''t take Kurt long to recognize the shape of Ohmer, with or without his coat.


    ¡°I can bring him back, Kurt. He''s instructed me on the way, which will take time, time I don''t have here.¡±


    Kurt''s worry must have shown on his face because Dorian''s went somber. ¡°I''m going to go away for a while, then I¡¯m going to the Monastery. I have to Kurt, it''s the only way to be ready in time. The Elder-¡±


    ¡°Bacchus.¡± Moder grumbled.


    ¡°Yes, Bacchus, self-titled. His real name is so old that I doubt he remembers it. Bacchus has been guarding something, something he covets, and apparently, it''s nearly ready. I don''t really have time to explain, but I have to ask for your help.¡± Dorian''s gaze was serious but reluctant.


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait. You can''t just go, what will I tell our parents? What about-¡± Dorian shook his head.


    ¡°Kurt, we''ve been living a lie. We have a chance to do something good, something really good, but you''ll have to trust me.¡± Dorian looked desperately at his older brother. ¡°Will you give me your trust, brother?¡±


    Kurt rolled his eyes. ¡°Always so dramatic, just tell me already.¡±


    Dorian looked back to Moder, then back to Kurt, steeling himself with a sigh. ¡°Kurt, I''ve learned a whole lot in the last few hours. I¡¯ve lived,¡± Dorian stumbled a bit but resumed, ¡°I¡¯ve lived lives, Kurt. I know things about our home now, things about this place that I shouldn¡¯t. There is so much that never should of happened. If my new memories are right, then you''re a broken Vessel. You have the capacity to use Priorius abilities, but no way to focus it.¡±


    Moder spoke again, the cracking and clicking in his voice wasn''t nearly so apparent. ¡°K-he wants to breed an k-army of you and finds success in k-your line.¡± His hood came back slightly, just enough for Kurt to notice the disgust written there.


    ¡°Since you can''t control it, you''ll be vulnerable. We can prevent that, but we have to form a pact so I can bind you. If you don¡¯t, you''ll be more-.¡±


    ¡°Susceptible,¡± Moder croaked. Kurt flashed a glance at him.


    Not looking away, Kurt asked Dorian, ¡°are you sure we can trust this... thing?¡±


    ¡°No, not completely. He''s got his own motives, but he''s been transparent about it.¡± Dorian looked at Moder for a moment then went back to Kurt. ¡°I''m sorry Kurt, we need to do this. The longer Ohmer is exposed the longer it will take.¡± His voice was worried and rushed.


    The concern Kurt felt for his little brother swelled within him. He looked at Dorian, meeting his eye squarely. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    It wasn''t often that Dorian was certain, but at that moment he undeniably was. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Kurt replied, ¡°then whatever you need to do. I''ve got your back.¡±


    Kurt woke up alone and peeled his face out of the frozen mud. The predawn light let him see well enough to understand he was in the woods, but little else. Inspecting the face print he had left in the mud, he chuckled to himself. That is the best-looking mud in the valley, he thought demurely. Dorian''s staff and travel sack were there, but his was gone. Opening the sack, he found the water canteen and drank deeply. He inspected himself as he drank, noting his state. Other than his numb face, he felt fine, though there were some peculiarities. His boots were very worn and were tight despite being well broken in. His Tunic too was a touch smaller than it should be, chaffing at his sides and constricting to his chest. He undid his belt, flaring the tunic open enough to reset it, the cool air rushing to his meet his clammy skin. Still tight, he thought as he finished looping his belt and clasping it.


    Kurt stood, moving his jaw and mouth about, trying to get some feeling back in it. He hadn¡¯t known when, but his facial hair had begun growing in, the stubble of which he scratched idly. It was then that he realized his clothes weren¡¯t smaller, he was bigger. Dawn was just beginning to rise over the valley mountains. The crisp air was calm, stagnant. The meadow he had been placed in was grassy, which didn''t really add up. Using the sun for guidance, he headed north until he found a trail. He followed that trail until he had found a larger one, and so on until he was somewhere he recognized. Just a brief six hour walk from here. He smiled at the sunlight warming his skin and the thought of home.


    Kurt halted as he thought of home, what had happened to his brother? Where was Dorian? Why couldn¡¯t he remember?


    You have to find me, Kurt. The memory crossed his mind in vivid detail. It was jarring and unnatural, and Kurt took his time on his walk trying to figure out what had happened.


    Despite the time alone, and delving through his memory as best he could, he couldn''t recall a damn thing about where he had been. He remembered talking with his brother, about what he wasn''t sure, and that he had to find him, but not right away. He knew it like he knew the Wilds, not that he could recall all of it exactly, but he understood the way of the Wilds. Every time he tried to recall what Dorian had said to him an image flashed across his mind. Dorian, looking at him, not as the child he was but as the young man he was becoming. Older than Kurt remembered, but clearly stating, ¡°Kurt, the entire valley needs you to find me.¡± That was it.


    It bothered him to no end. His mind working in circles as he tried to remember where they were and what they were doing, what had led to this, and why he felt Dorian had been too trusting. Blackened balls Dor, what am I gonna tell mom?


    Kurt''s musing was cut short as he came to the top of a rise. He could see Metan from there, a usually impressive view. His breathe caught as he saw the smoke billowing upwards, and even from there he could hear screaming.


    He ran, ran like Kressor was on his heels. Ducking, twisting, and vaulting himself over fallen limbs, sliding through the mud, he cut a direct path to the outskirts of the village. As he approached, he heard a woman screaming. No, not a woman, a girl. Kurt followed the noise, as he approached the sound of laughter echoed from behind a small house. It belonged to one of the Weaver families.


    Skulking along the edge of the house, he peeked his head out slowly. Three men, Kressian by their looks, had a girl tied down. Kurt thought her name was Estelle but wasn''t certain. One of the men busied himself trying to take off her clothes, the other two laughing at their friend''s attempts.


    Fury warred with disgust in Kurt''s mind, and fury won out. As nimble as he could, he stalked his prey, paying especial attention to the Kressian''s blind spot. The muddy soil was slightly more solid in the village, enough so that the grass over it kept he boots from making noise as he approached. He didn''t snarl, didn''t exhale, the only noise that came from Kurt''s person was the hum of his staff and the thud of its impact. The second one hadn''t even realized what had happened before Kurt lanced the man at the base of his skull. He collapsed, dropping to the ground and convulsing. The third man, still attempting to strip his victim was becoming audibly frustrated.


    ¡°Could one of you dogs give me a hand here, this one''s a hand full, but she''ll be twice as fun for it when we''ve got ''er ready.¡± The lowlife chuckled but in an agitated and hungry way. His irritation was noted absently by Kurt as he spotted a stone club on the ground, one that had likely belonged to one of the men he just downed. He picked it up, hefting it in one hand and checking its weight. He walked up behind the rapist, with sneer of disgust written on his face, he paused there.


    ¡°About gods damned time-¡± was as far as he got before Kurt caved his skull in. He removed the club to the sound of squelching and held down his bile long enough to get Estelle untied. The tears running down her dirty face broke his heart, knowing that nobody deserved that kind of treatment. She clung to him for a moment, blindly grateful. When she finally let go, Kurt gave a sad smile and looked down at the animal he¡¯d put down. She looked to the dead man for a moment before the bile brewing in Kurt''s gut had finally had enough. He began dry heaving, realizing that he had just killed a man, he felt a shock to his psyche that he wasn''t prepared for. After he caught his breath, he looked up to see Estelle using the stone club to pulverize the two men that were laughing before. They''d never laugh again, Kurt thought, but he also knew that he could reflect on that later. Now, right now, was the most imperative thing, and it would be until he found his family.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Estelle Weaver!¡± Kurt shouted at her, she turned to look at him and he could see the pain on her face. She dropped the crude weapon, gore slogging off it as she did. She suddenly couldn''t take it a moment longer and buckled on herself. Kurt came to her quickly, holding her up. He hushed her, and comforted her, to the best of his ability. When enough of her senses returned, he gently cupped her face looking into her eye.


    ¡°What''s happening?¡± He held her eye, and made sure his face matched the gravity of his query.


    Estelle stepped back and seemed to center herself. Then she spoke so quickly that Kurt couldn''t understand her in the least. He put his hands up and murmured, ¡°slowly.¡±


    Estelle took a long breath. ¡°The Kressians. They''ve been raiding for weeks, we''ve got aid from the priests, but something has happened. We haven''t heard back from their camps in the last few days, and they''ve been raiding our stores, stealing women...¡± Her voice quaked towards the end, and she shuddered involuntarily.


    ¡°My father, where is he?¡±


    ¡°Your father? Oh, the cook, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, is he in the village?¡±


    She shook her head.


    ¡°My mother? Is she still in the village?¡± Kurt''s voice was beginning to sound desperate, he knew, but it couldn''t be helped.


    ¡°Yeah, she''s holed up in the trapper''s trade house. I was going to go there with the other women, but I wanted to grab some of our food stores. The whole village is going hungry, and I...¡± She tapered off.


    Kurt shook his head, ¡°I''m sorry but there''s no time. Let¡¯s get there, grab your club and let¡¯s get the hell out of here.¡±


    The approach to the trapper''s house was a muddy affair. The grounds had been pulverized, and the sloppy muck was riddled with arrows and corpses. The rank smelling area had been cleared of every tree within the immediate area, and surrounding the trapper''s house was a new gate, the entry closed. Every fifteen yards or so a small watchtower had been built, with people sitting in each.


    Kurt patiently waited, looking for anybody outside the gate. After a few minutes he helped Estelle up and assisted her along as he began waving his staff about frantically.


    ¡°Help!¡± He shouted, trying to make sure he didn''t startle them to firing before he had a chance to explain who he was.


    As expected, a warning shot was fired that landed uncomfortably close to the two of them. He couldn''t understand what they said, but he made out the words ¡°Kressian dog¡± along with the bile expressed in the woman''s tone.


    ¡°I am Kurt Hunt! I need to see my mother, Rita!¡± Kurt shouted


    The woman signed for them to come closer after a brief discussion with the others posted on watch. Estelle and Kurt did so, but neither of them dropped their hands. After a brief conversation, they were allowed access. As the gates opened, the visage behind sundered what remained of his innermost child.


    The people of his small village had erected tents on the open lawn, and on the opposing side, a stack of burnt bones stood taller than he was. The dead stacked there were covered in black spots, their skin a pale white, incongruous to the black lesions that seemed to pulse in his vision.


    ¡°Plague struck just after they started coming. It affects some viciously, others not at all. Some recover, others,¡± the woman from the watchtower said as she followed behind Kurt. She looked over at the pile of bones and shivered. ¡°Been a constant blaze for two weeks now.¡±


    Just then an older woman came up to them, she looked fragile and gaunt. Her hair was a mess, and the worry lines on her face were remarkable.


    ¡°Esty? Esty!¡± The woman shrieked, and Estelle shouted, ¡°momma¡± in return and ran towards her mother. Kurt smiled at her, glad to have played a small part in the reunion.


    ¡°Speaking of mothers, yours is inside, nursing and scheming. A testament to fortitude, that woman. I swear, Kressor''s Black Knights could be charging the gate, and that woman wouldn''t move an inch.¡± She spoke in a way that made it sound like small talk, which it was. He honestly didn''t want to engage in small talk, not after seeing the pile of bones, or seeing the state of his village. Despite himself, he knew that the woman was making small talk for a reason, likely to get his mind off the horror of what happened to his home. He knew all these people, if not in passing then he knew them well, or knew their family. There was a pile of burnt bodies rotting not fifty yards away, all of them people who had influenced his own life in some way. He decided not to disregard this woman''s good intentions, and, putting on a brave face, began to banter with her.


    ¡°That''s my mom.¡± Kurt commented, smiling wistfully. ¡°Dorian would tell me sometimes that she practiced her glare on stones when we were away, you know, to keep her edge. He also used to say that that was how our house was built.¡± He chuckled for a moment before he remembered what he had to do. He choked up a bit, so he kept his mouth shut thereafter.


    Gratefully, Kurt was led to a wash basin and a bit of privacy before he had to see his mother. Before leaving, the watch woman said, ¡°no mother should see her child as disheveled as you are. Clean yourself up before you head in, or I''ll be cleaning you up off the floor later.¡± She chortled at her own joke, and Kurt smiled, amused.


    He stole a moment to himself, practicing the breathing techniques taught to those who study the hunt. Kurt popped his neck, stretched his arms, and prepared for Hell. He took a long breath, held it, and exhaled slowly. ¡°You''re ready.¡± He said, flat like the stagnant air outside his mother''s headquarters. Here we go.


    Kurt knocked twice and slowly opened the door. His mother was facing away from him, staring at a large chalkboard. Mapped on it was a representation of the trapper''s house, the gate that had been erected around it, and the adjacent structures of the town. High to the northwest was a circle with the word ¡°outpost¡± written in it. A line had been haphazardly erased that ran between the outpost and the gate. On the far right of the chalkboard was a series of various lists, food stores, population, house, outpost, arrows, defensible party, offensive party, weapons, and so on. The population had started at over one thousand but had been crossed out and so had the next number and another after. The population of Metae was always a point of contention. There were many moving pieces to their population, outposts, small settlements, even families that lived outside the village. Though there were several thousand in total throughout the Wilds, less than half actually lived in or around Metae. Even less than that were individuals that stayed within the trade houses or lived within the limits of the village. The further out one went, the faster the vegetation grew, which was why this place had been so important to settling the Wilds. On her desk were more detailed reports but scattered everywhere. Kurt glanced at them as he approached, including one that said, ¡°Lost to the Plague of Bacchus.¡± The list was numbered, five concentric rows listed, the last entry was numbered ¡°278. James Smith.¡±


    Kurt frowned at the mention of the name and knew that his mother had family ties with him when she was just a girl. They were friends, nothing more, but the loss of her oldest friend would be a mighty blow, even to a woman of his mother''s caliber.


    ¡°Mom, I''m so sorry.¡± Kurt wheezed out, trying not to scare her. ¡°I know he was your friend. I don''t know what happened, or where I''ve been. But mom, I have to tell you something awful.¡± Kurt choked out the last bit, his eyes watering slightly. ¡°Mom, are you listening?¡±


    Kurt came around the edge of her desk, only to see his mother with her mouth open wide. Her, and the baby cupped in her arms, were both snoozing away. Blackened damn.


    Kurt slowly moved up and lightly touched his mother''s shoulder. ¡°Mom,¡± Kurt whispered as he gave her a soft shake. Her eyes bolted wide open, and the next thing he knew was on the floor. How the hell had that happened?


    ¡°Oh, by the Gods! Kurtis!¡± His mother was pulling at his shoulder, and he managed to sit up. Things were spinning a bit but no matter. He levered himself up and stood to meet her eye. She seemed so small now.


    ¡°Nice to see you too, mom. Now could you please tell me, what the hell is going on!¡± He didn''t mean to shout, but it was too late. The baby started crying, and the scowl that lit his mother''s face was priceless. Was she like that with Dorian?


    After ten minutes or so, Rita Hunt displayed her competence at mothering in the same way she displayed her competence at everything else, with thorough absolution. She had the babe slumbering in her arms, then softly placed her in a small wooden crib. Standing, she looked over her oldest son. She seemed to be impressed for a moment, after grabbing Kurt by the shoulders for a moment she smiled, nodded, and slapped him across the face. "Where in seven hells have you been, boy?!¡± she said, outraged. Kurt knitted his brow, and held his cheek. ¡°Ow¡± he voiced, drawing it out. He took a long breath and looked his mother in the eye. In her fiery, burning, terrifying eye. If there were a way to say it softly, Kurt couldn''t think of it now, so he just said it.


    ¡°I don''t know where I''ve been, mom. The last thing I remember clearly was coming across a Kressian encampment four or five hours to the northwest and running for our lives.¡± Kurt couldn''t keep eye contact and had to look away. ¡°Hey, hey!¡± She snapped her fingers in front of his face. ¡°Where is your brother?¡± She said, controlling herself but seemed to fray at the edges. "I... I don''t know. I have to find him.¡± Kurt said, defeat heavy in his voice. ¡°What do you mean you don''t know?¡± She replied through gritted teeth.


    There was a trick to dealing with his mother, one he had figured out a long while back. Whenever Kurt had done something to earn his mother''s ire, he had found that dissembling was the absolute worst thing he could do. Instead, he had learned to stand upright and provide the information he knew as though he were reporting to the leader of the Trapper''s house, which he was doing, after all.¡°The last memory of Dorian was on the earliest slopes on the range that separates the Wilds from Kresson. He was being dragged away by something, I was unsure as to what it was. It was the first day of the year.¡± His face and tone were flat, his shoulders were straight, but his heart was breaking.¡°The first of the year?¡± She near whispered, her eyes wide and tearing up. She shut them, and the teardrops ran down each cheek, leaving wet arches on his mother''s face.


    Teardrops. Teardrops?


    Something about that rang in his mind, it echoed there, and for whatever reason his mind raced at the notion. Like a song he couldn''t get out of his head, it persisted.


    ¡°Wait, the first of the year? That was weeks ago, months. We''re only a week from the spring equinox, how could you have lost all that time?¡±


    Kurt shook his head, half trying to clear it, half trying to make sense of it all. ¡°Mom, what happened here?¡± He stared at her blankly but stared he did. His mother''s glare was formidable, and though he would never venture to match it, he felt that he could hold his own.


    Rita looked up at her son and saw that he was fortified and absolute in his query. To see her own child stand before her as a man swelled her chest with pride, Kurt could tell, and she melted ever so slightly. After a long sigh, she began. "It has been a trying few months, my boy. For the life of me I don''t know where to begin. So, I''ll start with the day you left. Mid-morning my water broke, and I went into labor. I sent runners after you, but we had no word before your sister, Teresa, had been born. After a day passed, I sent two groups looking for you. You had mentioned taking Dorian to that meadow, four hours or so northwest, so I sent both groups in that direction. I received a report that they had found signs of human movement, but little else. The next day I receive report of a skirmish at the edges of the Wilds, possibly Kressian, three dead and two wounded.¡± She sighed and continued. "We immediately started fortifying, and since the Weaver witch decided to reject the council vote to call for aid, we decided to take precautions at the trapper''s trade house. I sent out other parties searching the area for you two, and your father and I feared the worst.¡± She paused for a moment, collecting herself. "When we couldn''t find you, your father decided to take matters into his own hands. He gathered several of our best, men he had trained with when he was young, and they made a small fortification halfway between here and where you two had gone missing.¡± She sighed, looking pensive. ¡°After a few weeks most of the men were tired of waiting around for aid that might not be coming. Of course, I had sent several individuals to make the weeklong journey to the Monastery Temple, but we still have yet to receive word or aid, and though I begged patience, the plague made the decision for them. In an attempt to take the fight to the Kressians, and to help prevent the spread of plague, they left for your father''s encampment. We haven''t heard word from them in weeks.¡± Kurt''s mother, Rita Hunt, was the strongest person Kurt had ever known. She''d seen death, loss, and wore the burden of leadership like she was born onto it. That was why Kurt was shocked to hear the sob that escaped his mother''s throat, and before he knew it, Kurt was holding his mother. He comforted her as best he could, told her it would be alright, but he knew deep down that there was something wrong. When she finally settled, she looked at Kurt red eyed, and said, ¡°you will not, and I repeat, will not be leaving this camp to search for your father.¡±


    For a moment, Kurt saw Dorian sitting there in front of him, his deep brown hair greasy and reflecting firelight. You have to find me, Kurt. I need you to find me. The entire valley needs you to find me, for all the people, not just our house. For everyone. I need time, but more importantly I''ll need you. Kurt, you will be our champion, find me at the tournament.


    The flash of memory happened in an instant, but it settled on his bones. ¡°Kurt, are you listening to me?!¡± Kurt looked to his mother, hating himself for the lie he was about to tell. ¡°Of course, mother. I''ll stay here, I''ll stay safe. Dad will make his way back, we just have to be patient.¡± Despite his self-loathing over the bag of bear scat he just spewed, and the eyeing look his mother gave him, she bought it. Bought it enough to set him up with a bunk inside the trade house, and within an hour he was asleep. He slept like the dead, because he knew it would be the last good sleep he''d have for a long time.

 Chapter 21 - Echoes of the Abyss

    Shattered as my mind was, I could tell it had come to an end. My second trip to the contamination was in the search of secrets. For all the power I had wielded in my long life, my mind was finally giving way. I see him every day now, sometimes as my mentor, other times my mother, my father, my siblings. All of which were long dead, I knew, but that didn''t make them any less real. My mind had been flayed the first time, and the torment I have been suffering for the last few decades was of my own creation.That, however, was just the cost. We all must pay a price, but I have begun to suspect that I might not have to suffer the price alone. So, I came to the suction tunnel, well hidden within the depths of the administration building, only accessible with the appropriate runes. I would change that, in time, so long as I found success in my journey below.The natural vacuum was a wonder of transportation, and I found myself standing in the antechamber in short order. The whirlpool effect that ran through the valley bedrock was easily visible at this center point. The ingenuity of the first three was something to be marveled at, and even with the power I have now, I couldn''t fathom how something like that had been created in a moment. With my Gia I lit the chamber above. I sent a small tendril and stretched it as thinly as I could throughout the Giastone set there. The large stone gates, ornate as could be imagined, were decorated with wonderful illustrations of sea creatures. The uppermost portion depicted a large tentacled creature, broadly spreading its extremities to display an open maw of sharp teeth. The tentacles stretched around the doors, and the way it was depicted made me wonder what this power really was.I drew upon one of my primal powers, fortitude, and with little effort opened the door. There he was, corpse fresh as though it were only yesterday. The shock of my betrayal still written clearly upon his face, and it disgusted me just as it had the first time. The fool.


    Dorian was somberly deviate as he drifted throughout the library. Perhaps the air of quiet that enveloped him was due to the nature of libraries, or perhaps the day had been too significant thus far and he needed time to process it all. Whatever it may be, he felt lofty as he drifted from book to book. Pointedly ignoring the welling sensation of dread, Dorian simply let go into the vastness of the library.


    Vast was indeed the word for it, it was the center of the first six floors of the monastery, seven if you counted the basement. The climb down the stairs was a commitment, and the climb back doubly so. In this regard, Dorian was glad to pay the price. The lack of other students studying was the finest blessing Metae could bestow upon him on this day. Getting lost in the library was one of the most enjoyable things he could think of at that moment, and he took to it with reckless abandon.


    Dorian took his first right upon entering the large circular chamber that was the entrance. The railing ran up all six floors, and endless bookshelves stood idle behind them. The maps that were located throughout had details of where it was located, and what was immediately nearby. The map appeared as a series of circles so close together that it looked like a mass of bubbles surrounding a singular large one. Each bubble had a been shaped to spell out the words for various subjects, and age requirements for each. The fun to have at the library, for him at least, was finding his way around the wards.


    The wards were set just like they had been in his first class with Sister Brenda. The requirement to get through whichever doorway was simple, if you weren''t old enough you couldn''t pass through them. Most would simply be deterred by this, and move on, and in fact Dorian had put it past him. Until one day, shortly after he had spent his birthday in the Rock, he was studying in a newly available room. This one was wholly dedicated to flora species alteration and which was where he found a loophole. The age requirement for the adjacent room was seventeen, it was on advanced telekinesis, but when he got close to the archway the ward had dropped. He walked right through. It was then that he realized that the system wasn''t perfect, and he found thirteen more loopholes within the week.


    It wasn''t only the desire to go where he wasn''t supposed to, it was more akin to the concept of forbidden knowledge. Something about it just made his mischievous inner child¡¯s motivation run amok.  He learned about all sorts of random things, and sometimes he could find various mentions of post ascension, or continued studies. Sometimes he''d find journals, or histories on various disasters that had happened more than fifteen thousand years ago. Apparently, there were even partially burnt books from the fire that enveloped the library, this of course was prior to the great burning some seventeen thousand years ago. He had always coveted finding one of the rare tomes, but thought it was such a juvenile thing to desire that he never made mention of it to his friends.


    After taking his first right, then another left after sixteen rows, he came to his most common room. It was the room with the most up to date study material, things one would have to know to pass the written portions of each class. There was a fair portion covering general classes, writing and literature, history, politics, trade, treatise, along with a smattering of primed vessel volumes. This was where Dorian did his work, and it was honestly the last place he wanted to stay. So he didn''t, and he made his way through several hallways. He traversed even more rooms until he was so deep in the mountain that some of the Giastone lights on the ceiling needed repair. The hallways hadn''t been swept for months.


    This was usually where things would get a little weird. Some small rooms were dedicated to restricted content, things that weren''t necessarily fact but couldn''t be disproved either. Typically, you wouldn''t find anybody in those rooms unless they were looking for supportive arguments for their own work, often only ever taken up by aspiring Pathians fresh to the robes. Other times, it was something like the final essay in literature that everyone had to do in their eighteenth year. He had left one of these neglected rooms via an old-style hallway. The difference between the old and the new was clear to anybody that had moved through these deep halls. New halls were practical, flat walls with a strip of Giastone running through the center of each hallway ceiling. Converse to the old halls that had the most astounding sculptures, they were wrought onto the very walls. Wild animals were displayed in various poses, sculptures depicting a hero of war or a Grand Elder or ominous priest. The artworks were old, ancient really, but that did nothing to demean the grandeur they inspired.


    It was through one of these rooms that he felt something he wouldn''t have noticed if his battered face hadn''t been so sensitive. There was a draft, subtle, but still present. Curious, he licked his thumb and followed the flow of air to an aesthetically shaped pillar. There was a straight line that ran up the side of the pillar for the first five feet. The draft was strong at the edge, and his curiosity was peeked.


    ¡°Hello?¡± He said aloud, making sure there wasn''t anybody nearby to hear him. After a brief pause, he started pulling at the crack but couldn''t find enough purchase there. Then he strained as much as he could against one of the artistic protrusions, trying to lever it to budge. He''d simply drop an acorn or some other seed and just grow the wood enough to budge the thing, but he couldn''t use those abilities there. He could summon his Gia there, however. So, he wondered and thought long about his experience earlier. He considered whether he should even attempt such a thing. After much deliberation, he decided to give it a go, telling himself, if you can''t even summon Shade here then you¡¯re deliberating over nothing anyways.


    He summoned his Gia and reached for the sensation he felt earlier. It was filth, bitter rage, villainy, but also intoxicating and lustful. It was all those things but oddly perverted from those concepts. It was what it was, and when Dorian found it, he drew ever so slightly on it. He pulled it to his hand until it swelled and took shape. The elongated teardrop was slightly curved, two feet long, and was sharp at the tip. The bottom of it left an eight-inch gap, with just enough room for his hands.


    Now resolved, he took his newly forged instrument of filth and jammed it between the pillar and the wall. With all his might, he levered against it. Just as he was about to give up, the whole stone shifted. It was only an inch or so but judging by the defined edge of the moved stone, Dorian surmised that this wasn''t just old architecture, this was an actual passage.


    Dorian increased the size of his tool and levered again three more times before he was finally able to squeeze his prodigious bulk through the gap. The passage was small, he had to crouch to move through it, but the excitement of discovering something he shouldn''t made him giddy beyond belief. He summoned more Gia to light the way and was washed in a small wave of vertigo. He still hadn''t fully recovered from trying to grow an oak tree, using his prime weakened his Gia, the sudden strain sapping his strength. Still, he moved on, undeterred.


    For the first ten minutes or so, he was excited. That was, until he came to the first crossroads. To his right and in front of him were more passages, but to his left were stairs heading down. Despite the eerie feel to the dark passage, and as ominous as it was there, he simply had to find out what was down those stairs.


    The next hour of descent was unbelievable. His ears began to pop at one point, but every time he considered returning, he figured it could end around this next curve. He had gone through this cycle of logic several times before he started to have an odd sensation. No, odd wasn''t the right word, foreboding was. Then the sense started growing invasive, tremendously so. Abruptly, runes started appearing on the walls. They weren''t visible without his Gia though, only as his hand grew close the runes started to give off a shimmer. This hall is warded with foreboding? Is this even possible?This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    This only inspired Dorian to keep going, until he, finally, passed under an archway. Passing through, Dorian stretched his Gia out as far as he could to illuminate the room. It was large, and it reminded him of something, though he couldn''t put his finger on it. There were thirty or so other archways, all with stairs heading up, but there was one archway in the center of the room secluded from the others. He looked around and patiently listened for anybody else there as he idly admired all of the intricate, yet terrifying, sculpted artwork. Black masses lazily crept through various scenes depicted on the walls, a world on fire, then a larger world somehow less chaotic, then another depiction of perfection. It was an old concept, each world representing each of the primary gods. On another wall, however, there was something out of a nightmare. Various depictions of people trying to escape something, horror written on their faces, their wide eyes all expressing terror in the extreme. It was captivating, and he decided that if he started to get lost in it, he''d never leave. He almost ran away from the awful thing, and cursed whoever could dream up such a terror.


    Through the archway, an entirely different chamber emerged. The large, vaulted ceiling had Giastone lights installed which kicked on as soon as he stepped into the room. There were intricate carpets strewn about, tapestries hung from the walls along with intricate artworks ranging from painting to abstract three dimensional sculptures. On the far wall, on a tall platform, was a truly massive bed, but behind it lay something unnerving. A portrait of a man even larger than the bed, clutching his head and screaming, about him intricate vines of black that seemed to bleed out of him. Even his eyes were stained with the black waves, his entire figure illuminated by a glow. The depiction made Dorian feel sick, and he wondered as to what kind of person could sleep under something so disturbing.


    There was a desk covered in sprawling paper. This made Dorian particularly curious, so he moved to inspect them. There were a few notes, short but to the point. One read, ¡°find new Vessel,¡± another read, ¡°rebuild for tournament,¡± another read, ¡°stop war before population decimation.¡± As abstract as some of the notes were, the last one unhinged Dorian a bit. Though, nothing would unhinge him more than the rest of the papers had. Each one displaying something kindred to the large painting by the bed, but instead of a man they were dark sketches of creatures. Ominous and dark, some were animals, others human, and some of the sketches were of creatures Dorian couldn''t explain. There was one that made his stomach roil and his eye water, and he didn''t know why. It had the general shape of a man, but its arms were too long, its face too sharp, and its mouth open too wide. Gods, was it smiling?


    Dorian put a small bead of Gia to the back of his fingers, lighting the paper from behind. The imbued runes there were suddenly visible, which put his mind at ease. He put it back down where he had found it and decided to peek about. If the place belonged to one of his instructors, he wondered as to what kind of dirt he could dig up, or what kind of information he could gain to give him an edge. Overall, that was one thing he had his biggest suspicions over. There had to be a way to gain more power, a way to tap into his Gia well enough to attain ascension. He knew he had a small shot with the tournament, but he was no fool. Betting his future on a long shot sounded like a terrible idea, but at the moment it was the most hope he had, and he didn''t like that.


    The bookshelf on the wall was packed with miscellaneous tomes, broader in scope than even the most general rooms in the library. There was one book, however, that made him shudder involuntarily. It was old, beaten, and when he saw it, an invasive sensation swallowed his mind. Terror! Fear! Run! Do not touch! Death! Pain! Disaster! Madness! All these notions and more flooded Dorian''s mind, and he was forced to look away from it.


    No, he thought, I didn''t come this far to be afraid now. Dorian summoned his Gia again, and viewing the book from the light it emanated, he spotted runes scrawled across the cover. This was just another manipulation, and Dorian had had enough of it. He snatched the book, which made his insides squirm as though there were unbound Shade rolling about in his guts, and he tucked it into his robes. He looked around the magnificent chamber a bit longer, until he came to the wardrobe. He opened it, hoping to have a good guess at who''s rooms he''d been raiding. He opened the large wooden door, and the very first robe he spotted made his guts churn even more. The symbol on the back of the robes were iconic. The infinity symbol placed longways, an arrow running through it. They each were unique symbols, and were typically only worn by a Sister or Brother during ceremonial events. The symbol for infinity was that of the Priorius, the notion that all Priorius were only reborn, never new, and the arrow being the sign of the leader. The leader of the Priorius owned these chambers, and there was only one of those. The Grand Elder.


    Without thinking, Dorian ran out of the room and up the stairs he had originally come down. It was more than fifteen minutes up that he regretted his haste and began to second guess his choice. He knew it was too late to turn back now, but despite himself he kept onward. He had no idea how long it had been, but he knew it was starting to get late. His legs burned, and the sweat on his brow did little to keep him cool in his thick robes. That was when he first heard noises echoing from below. Fearful of being caught, Dorian moved as silently as he could up the stairs. The noises slowly began to divulge what they were, as the echoes did little to assist the audible clarity of the sounds.


    The first noises were sobbing. They were painful sobs, like a soul wracked with the pain of an eternity, finally venting all the anguish out in a single bout. Then the sobs evolved into laughter, a laughter that belonged to a madman. The thought of a man laughing so hard that spittle flew from his mouth scarred its way across Dorian''s mind. Then the mad laughter noticeably changed into the sound of raw unadulterated shouting. It was chilling to hear; the sounds crawled up his spine and back down to his toes. Then it repeated and he realized that the noises had a cycle. Sobs, laughter, then screaming. Whomever the man was that was screaming was singularly disturbed. He worked his way through a silent prayer, hoping to the Gods that he was wrong in the assumption he had made regarding the owner of the chamber.


    When he finally came to an even surface, he knew he had screwed up. Instead of the crossroads, he found himself inside of a room that one would more likely describe as a closet. He looked about frantically, looking for anything that would lead him out of the confined space. Short of having a panic attack, he found an indentation in the wall. Smooth and straight, it was another opening to the passage.


    Fearful he would disturb the screaming man and get himself caught, Dorian did his best to filter out the sounds echoing throughout the stone passages and shut his eyes for a few disturbed hours of sleep.


    Fitful at best, Dorian woke half dazed but happy the sounds had stopped. He had no idea what time it was, and at that point, didn''t really care. His back hurt from how he had slept, and his neck had a bad crick in it. After fumbling about in the dark, he found the opening he had discovered before.


    Unlike the last one, this one moved with a bit of muscle. He strained himself for a spell, but nothing beyond what one would expect from shoving a thick stone slab. Once it started to move, he put his shoulder into it, shoving hard. It scraped across the stone floor inch by inch until he finally found himself breathing air less stagnant, and for the first time in hours he could hear distant voices that weren¡¯t screaming, crying or laughing. Oh thank the Gods, he thought, grateful that he wouldn''t have to descend the stairs just to climb another set. Now, where the hell am I?


    The moisture in the air was palpable, and the warmth of it told him he was in the baths. He sniffed his underarm quickly and quickly moved his face away from the source of such an unpleasant stench. Since the voices he heard were few and faint, he assumed it was dreadfully early. Dorian considered it a bit, and decided that if he was going to go make dough for the cooks he''d get stinky all over again. Deciding it would be in his best interest, he searched for a way out and found it without getting totally lost. He was concerned by the layout, however, as he had never been to this bath before. He wondered how high up he was, and how much trouble he''d be in if he were caught in the baths that weren''t assigned to his age.


    As he was leaving the baths he realized, much to his horror, that the baths he had landed himself in didn''t belong to his sex. He ducked and hid as three women came out of a room wearing nothing but towels. His face burned and he blushed furiously, realizing he had just seen the near naked form of Ingrid.


    The butterflies in his guts told him that if he were caught there, he''d have twelve hells to pay. Besides that, his recent interactions with her would make him out to be a creep. Dorian didn''t have much of a reputation at all, and considering the prior day''s eventfulness, following that up with being a peeping tom would likely cut his newfound popularity down to newfound public humiliation. So, despite a small voice in the back of his mind that whispered, ¡°just one peek, nobody will know,¡± Dorian ducked out of the baths, into the hall, and down the stairs towards the dining hall.


    Clarice was kind and patient when he finally got to work. The process he described to the cooks involved ordering the steps appropriately, to make sure the dough would rise properly, and saving any sugar for the final steps. He worked with them for the next few hours, enjoyed an early breakfast, and prepared himself to head towards the baths. Clarice had a few words for him as he readied his robes, the book he had stolen still safely tucked away inside.


    ¡°That was well done, Dorian. Where did you learn all of that?¡± Clarice had asked as he got his robes back on, his undershirt now drenched in a mixture of sweat and flour.


    With a start of nonchalance, he said, ¡°oh, well, I learned that from...¡± he tapered off, furrowing his brows together. He thought about it hard, and nothing came of it. He moved to speak, opened his mouth, but nothing came out. All he felt was a deeper sense of confusion the longer he thought, and he was sure it showed on his face.


    Clarice walked up to Dorian, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. She smirked slyly at him and said, ¡°you know, if you don''t ascend you don''t get your memories back. I never did.¡±


    Clarice looked somber for a moment, her eyes looking wooden and hallowed, then returned to her normal self. She smiled, ¡°it¡¯s like that for most everyone. Skills you''ve cultivated, the body remembers but the mind doesn''t. It makes me wonder sometimes, what I would have been if not for this gift.¡± She sneered the last bit out, and Dorian could feel the venom in her words.


    Dorian didn''t want to inquire any further, feeling the heat in her words, he borderline fled from the dining hall, needing a bath, a nap, and a safe place to inspect his hard-won reading material.

 Chapter 22 - Tallied Losses

    Ruptured and sundered, my mind shattered the moment I touched the reservoir. Just a little more of the madness, just a little less of myself, and the knowledge became mine. The creature, this thing, possesses a knowing that is intrinsic to its existence. To be human, it tells me, was an accident. Life itself stumbled blindly into the curse of sentience. We are perversions, it says¡ªbeings never meant to wield such power, never meant to become self-aware.


    It is a cruel irony that we cannot comprehend the power we seek to master. Where we are born and stumble upon it, they are born of it. This fundamental truth is why our minds splinter under their weight. But in my descent, I have learned this: the burden can be shared, even shifted. The madness, the torment, can be transferred. The price is simply for another to lose their mind in my stead.


    At first, I didn¡¯t understand what I had done. I didn¡¯t know what it was. But when the truth revealed itself, it became my obsession. The reservoir must be completed, no matter the cost. Every so often, another must pay the price. Another must fall.


    And yet, doubt gnaws at the edges of my mind, what little remains of it. What if this price I pay is the very thing I sought to prevent? What if I have already gone too far? What if it has already begun to seep into the world, to taint it beyond redemption?


    What if I am not its master, but its avatar?


    Sneaking out was always a risky business. Sneaking out with gear, doubly so. Tonight though, Kurt was intent on his coup de grace of guile. Okay, perhaps not coup de grace, more like dupe de grace, but would be satisfied with that if it worked.  He knew he was under close inspection, his mother wouldn''t trust a word Kurt said when it came to protecting his family, and thus would likely have several eyes on him. Furthermore, she knew him well enough to know that he didn''t like the idea of being stuck inside. He was a hunter, a trapper, and a tracker, he was meant to be in the Wilds. It was more of his home than anywhere else and keeping him confined to this camp would be sheer torture for him. He also knew that there was no way to get out without his mother knowing about it, but he was more concerned with her knowing about it in time to prevent him from his midnight dash.


    After thinking long and hard about how to get out without her knowing, he gave up. He knew there was no possible way he could get out without his mother finding out, but by redefining his goal he knew he could find success. All he had to do was remove any hope of avoiding the consequences, particularly the flogging and inevitable castration he would incur. When he got back, his mother was going to be pissed.


    He took three days to feel wholly himself. His first reaction, to leave that very night, was swiftly waylaid after his first night''s rest. The severity of the situation had yet to dawn on him, he understood everything just fine, his town had been besieged, people he had known his entire life had either been killed by the Kressians or taken by plague. These were all people that played minor roles in his life, people that had trained him for a day when he was ten, or people that he''d see once every season for a new pair of boots or new woolen tunics.


    That was how he saw it as he drifted off to sleep, but the next day, as always, brought a new light. He had risen, greeted his mother, and began warming up to exercise in the field. Of course, the field was covered in tents, muddy, and the people there less than happy. So, he took to walking the grounds, hoping to find the space to practice his staff work. For a time, he was doubtful he''d find the space needed. Then, he spotted a fair gap in the tents with an adjacent gap across the aisle, enough for him to really spread his movements, just the way he liked it.


    He was midway through the dueler''s routine, a series of movements meant to disorient a skilled opponent, when an older woman came walking by. He recognized her as Agatha Weaver, the village head of Metan.


    Well, the former village head, really. Her choice to prevent the call for aid was, in retrospect, a terrible decision. Though nothing formal had come about, she and the rest of the village were following the lead of his mother. This rise in status would have made most kids snooty, or self-entitled, but Kurt knew it wasn''t his right to behave in such a fashion. His mother was incredibly competent, cleverly coordinated, and deserving of the role. For him to act any way but the apt and honorable son would only bring acrimony to a woman that didn''t need anything else on her plate. Besides, Kurt wasn''t the one that the village trusted, his mother was, and her accomplishments belonged to herself and no other. Kurt had his own accomplishments to endeavor towards, and when he was victorious in his goals, he wouldn''t want anybody giving credit to someone else that wasn''t involved. He hoped his mother would see it the same way.


    Agatha, despite her wealth, was subtle, political, and cold. That is why Kurt paused his work when he saw her crying. Taking his staff out of guard, he walked over to her. Her cloak was fine, made of bearskin that had been bleached a snow white, but that did little to distract from the dismay on her face or the tears so prominent there. Her eyes were rimmed red, and she choked something back before clearing her throat.


    ¡°Elder Agatha, hail and salutations.¡± His mother''s tutelage in formal language was finally starting to come in handy. Kurt gave Agatha an apologetic smile.


    ¡°Hail to you, young Hunt. First to the line, second to the house of Metan.¡± She sniffed but seemed to put herself back together. ¡°I trust you know what you''re about this morning?¡± She choked a bit as she spoke, maybe not gathered completely.


    ¡°I am in the midst of practice, I doubt there is a better time to stay in shape than when an enemy lies at our gates.¡± He said, putting on an inquisitive air and tilting his head.


    ¡°Justly so, but I am,¡± her eyes blinked rapidly, ¡°I am remorseful as to your ability to practice. The space-¡± she choked off for a spell and swallowed, ¡°I sincerely wish that space wasn''t available.¡±


    Kurt looked to her and raised an eyebrow. ¡°I''m sorry Elder, I didn''t know.¡±


    She nodded, grim sadness melting across her aged face. Her lips trembled, and her frown deepened. She whispered, ¡°didn''t know?¡±


    Kurt shook his head, ¡°no, I didn''t. Was this your kin?¡± As far as Kurt knew, she had children, but some had become recruits to the Monastery, some died as a result to living in such a harsh environment, and others moved to Gwendon. He didn''t think she had any kin in the village itself.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she nodded somberly, ¡°she was my kin. My sister''s granddaughter, a good soul, entirely too young, too kind, and too caring.¡± She scratched at her hand, which drew attention to the black spots covering her skin, where she scratched the blackness moved. It reminded Kurt of something, but he couldn''t place it.


    ¡°If I may ask, who was she?¡± Kurt asked, not sure how else to proceed.


    ¡°Oh, you knew her quite well, she had plenty good to say about you, even when you went missing.¡±


    Now Kurt was curious, and perhaps a bit alarmed. Scowling, and not without a little uncertainty, Kurt asked, ¡°What was her name?¡±


    ¡°Diana.¡±


    That was the beginning of his spiral. Though he''d never admit it to Dorian, Diana was Kurt''s first real kiss. They had never made love, Kurt knew they were both too young, but the exploration of romantic curiosity was never off the table for them.  She was kind, attractive, and could light up the room with her smile. She was intelligent but cared more for herb lore than creating schemes. Brilliant really, but despite having a sharp mind she never used its edge to harm.


    Kurt didn''t like how things ended and had missed her throughout the last year. He spent most of the rest of his day figuring out who had died. He was ashamed that their absences weren''t enough to jog his mind, he had to look them up, had to see the names. He went through all his mother''s paperwork and had scoured both lists of the dead. The plague had claimed Diana, along with several of those in his age group. Other kids that he had shared labors with, trained with, ate with, bled with. Rivals, even enemies, gone. It felt like just last week he was feasting in their company, now their bodies were ashes.


    Then came the list of those that had died in battle. The Kressians had attempted to knock down the gate and apparently found some success. They had been battering the gate while another group quietly laced part of the wall with Gwam dust. Apparently, though the method worked at removing part of the wall, it also announced the breach in the Metan defenses, which his father, having not left yet, met with force. He had led the charge against the breach, and despite his bold actions, he had made it out with nothing more than a gash across his leg. Others weren''t so lucky.


    Master Kel had been on the list. A few others from his class were too, but it was Kel¡¯s name that hit like a punch to the gut. The gruff, knotted man had met his end in that raid, and to his credit, he had gone down fighting. Not for Metan, though, since the place was rubble now, but for the people. That stubborn old bastard had died defending them.


    Kurt did not cry much these days. There was too much to do and too much to survive. But for Kel, he had wept. The thought of the man¡¯s sacrifice was the only thing keeping him moving, scraping together the last grain of resolve he had left.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    That grain sat there for a full day before he could act on it. He spent the time prepping supplies, not in some big bundle since that would be too obvious, but in smaller stashes ready for a quick grab and go. The sack of food he had hidden in the makeshift kitchens was crammed behind a door in a small pot, one he could grab in a hurry. He would need it for more than food. A pot could boil water, and he was not about to relive his last experience with dehydration.


    Three days without food. Almost three days on a single flask of water. He could still feel the dry ache in his throat, the way his mouth was so parched he could not even spit. That memory was burned into him, and there was no way he was letting that happen again.


    Kurt had also taken to keeping the stave Dorian had given him with him everywhere, telling his mother it gave him a sense of assurance. The rest of the things he needed were small, knife, twine, flint, and flask, which could easily be kept with him. The sketchy part was concealing his travel cloak, bedroll and his tent. Those he stashed beneath the bed he had been using, and simply prayed to the Gods that his mother wouldn''t catch on before he was already gone.


    When the time came, it was late. Generally, there was a switch in guard duty every night. That was where he hoped to slip out, preying on one numb skull in particular. Thinking ahead, Kurt sneaked over to the kitchens and grabbed his travel rations before he headed back to his room, heart pounding as prayed to Kressor to go unseen. He knew he was lucky to be inside, and knew it was the privilege of being his mother''s son, but living luxury didn''t supersede the wellbeing of his father. No, he had failed in protecting Dorian, he would stop at nothing to keep the rest of his family together. He was reminded of his failure to Dorian as he hefted the beautiful staff Dorian had made him. The fighters on the front, the name ¡°Hunt¡± engraved on it, the way it was etched to look like flames. It was a masterpiece and motivated Kurt, mostly for all the shame it burdened his soul with. He held his pack on the top, carrying it like a bag rather than a pack mostly to mute the sound. Silently, he made his way out to the brisk air and headed towards the furthest watch tower, the one closest to an old deer path that led right to where he needed to be.


    Kurt was surprised when the woman from the guard tower on the first night grabbed his shoulder, spinning him on his heel. He had to admit, in the dark she looked a might bit more attractive, but his focus was high, and he didn''t let the thought distract him.


    ¡°Where do you think your heading?¡± She asked, sounding irate. Then she grabbed the pot, peeked inside, and shook her head. ¡°Oh no you don''t, Emilia I-.¡± Kurt raised his hands and interrupted before her voice could get too loud.


    ¡°Wait, I know what it looks like, but I''m actually heading over to see my cousin.¡± Kurt was stretching the truth, he knew, but he had to try.


    ¡°Uh huh, sure. What do you need this food for? Flint too? You must be taking me for a fool if you think I''ll believe you.¡±


    Kurt sighed a long sigh and stopped playing the child. He wasn''t that, not anymore.


    ¡°What''s your name again, I''m sorry, it slipped my memory.¡± Kurt asked.


    She glared at Kurt for a long moment. ¡°Ash. Short for Ashley. Why?¡± Her glare could rival his mother''s, and Kurt could tell she was growing impatient.


    ¡°Listen, Ash, there''s one of two ways this can go.¡± Her eyebrows shot up at the remark, but Kurt plowed ahead. ¡°You can try to wrestle me down with whoever Emilia is, I''ll ditch my pack here and simply go without. I know I can survive, but I have a mission and without my supplies the likelihood of surviving drops significantly.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and the other way this will go down is Emilia and I hold you down while your mother comes out here and tans your hide!¡± She was getting suddenly vicious, like this was personal. Oh well.


    ¡°No, the other way this goes down is you turn away, act like you never saw me, and in turn aid me in getting the men back here. We''re half a village, plague or not, we need unified people if we''re going to get through this. You know this as well as I do, just look around you? What has become of Metan?¡± Kurt gestured to the camp, the sprawl of tents, the weeping, the most recent smoking corpse. ¡°We can''t go on like this, and I''ll be damned if I''m stuck in here waiting to die. I won¡¯t, and I won¡¯t let my father die out there alone either. Help me or don''t, but I''m taking that pot, my supplies and I''m getting out of this camp tonight.¡± Quick as a cat, he reached out and snatched the pot back, it was quite small and put it under his arm. ¡°But I''ll warn you now, the second you try anything, I''m shouting ¡°raid¡± at the top of my lungs.¡± He matched her glare, something he would seldom dare with his mother, turned and started walking.


    ¡°Wait.¡± She said, but Kurt kept walking. ¡°Wait, you big bastard.¡± She whispered it as a shout, the frustration clear in her tone. Kurt paused and looked over his shoulder at her. ¡°My husband, Barnabas, he''s out there too. We lost our only child, he left in anger and grief. If I let you go, will you give him a message?¡±


    Kurt paused and turned to look at her. He nodded once.


    ¡°Tell him,¡± she paused considering, ¡°tell him that he was... tell him that the Gods give back every time they take, tell him that his family might not be the same but he still has one. Tell him to come home to us.¡± She whispered the last bit, and a small part of Kurt envied her pain. He wasn''t masochistic, he envied that she had so much to lose. Kurt could hear the desperation in her voice, he could hear her love there too. He''d have done more than nod if he thought he wouldn''t get choked up, but he knew better. He nodded, turned, and began walking.


    Walking wasn''t the right term for it, he slogged his way through the muddy encampment, some people still awake and talking by firelight. One lesson Master Kel had taught him about fire, as it is illuminating, it¡¯s also light blinding. Kurt didn''t even skulk, he just kept a steady distance from those fires and walked as though he were on a mission. Nary a soul begged a question, and if someone did, he simply ignored them. After the muddy slog, he made it to the guard tower.


    The young man sitting on guard was a distant cousin of Kurt''s, his great uncle''s great grandson, or some such nonsense that was generally implied with any small town. The other problem with small towns or villages ran along the relative size of the young man''s mind, small towns meant small brains, this case especially so. Vincent Tanner wasn''t necessarily simple, more so oblivious with a dash of distracted. He was the worst kind of guard, which was another good reason why Kurt came here.


    ¡°Vincent, I''m here to alleviate you for the next hour. Night watch cap''n needs to speak to ya.¡± Kurt said as he put his first foot onto the ladder and began his ascent.


    ¡°Wha-what?¡± Vincent replied sheepishly, jostling himself to wakefulness.


    ¡°Cap''n needs to have a talk with you.¡± Kurt replied as seriously as he could.


    ¡°Oh, man, do you know why? It''s not my sister, is it?¡± Vincent rose with a sudden panic, eyes going wide for just a moment. He had grown since Kurt had last seen him. Large, and in the dim light looming. Kurt put his hands up in a placating gesture.


    ¡°Relax, nothing of the sort. Something about a routine?¡± Kurt rubbed the back of his head, acting as though he''d been caught. He whispered through a smile, nodding as he spoke, ¡°I''m pretty new to this, I''m not really sure.¡± He shrugged, ¡°but she didn''t seem angry. Ooh, can I sit here?¡±


    ¡°Um, sure, just make sure you don''t nod off. Hey, what''s with all this stuff you brought?¡± Vincent pointed.


    ¡°Oh, well, if you swear you won¡¯t mention it, I''m working on a project, trying to make a gift for my mum''. Do you want to see?!¡± Kurt let his voice crack and spoke rapidly as he asked. Telltale signs of an attention starved young man, excited to impress his elders.


    Kurt, ashamedly, had one such experience with a kid he had been teaching to track. The more he engaged with the kid the more the kid would just ramble on, and if Kurt was being honest he simply didn''t care what the kid was talking about. Kurt would endure the tirade out of politeness, or nod trying to end the conversation by agreement before a real discourse began. The entire experience was obnoxious, as there was no real safe exit.


    It was with this thought in mind when Kurt took a deep breath, signaling the commencement to the tirade, when Vincent said, ¡°Sorry Kurt, I''ve got to go. Better check and see what the cap''n wants.¡± Suddenly quiet, he started climbing down the ladder when Kurt started jabbering at him like a squirrel. ¡°Well, okay Vince, another time though! See you in an hour, got bunches to tell ya. Don''t ya wanna know where I''ve been? Okay, well, see ya later!¡± He only heard a poorly covered groan as a response, smirked to himself, and started knotting his rope.


    Twenty minutes later, Kurt had successfully transported his supplies and managed to get his rope untied without making a sound. He swiftly gathered his rope, grabbed his things and ducked into the brush. Early spring in this part of the Valley could have explosive vegetation growths, spots where broad leaf bushes would sprout in mass, then spread. Usually, by mid-spring, the trees will sprout their leaves, blocking most light and preventing these bushes from spreading. Right now, though, they made excellent cover, and Kurt took full advantage to take a moment to get prepared properly. There was a trick to skulking about at night, a lesson all deviates should learn early on. Don''t be loud.


    This little incite could be a hard lesson to learn, and the thought spurred him into a spiral of musings that led to: Lesson one of ¡°Studies of the Astute Deviate of Mischief, The Law of Silence.¡± Needless to say, by the time his head space had made it there, his bags were securely fashioned, and he was idly checking the volume of his movement.


    Sound-checking was always tricky. Absolute silence wasn¡¯t possible, not really. The trick was in relativity. For instance, avoiding the notice of a quietly perched opossum in a tree was tough but manageable, if you were prepared for nudity.


    Memories of learning his trade aside, Kurt¡¯s current challenge was simpler. He only needed to move quieter than the crackle of a fire or the rush of a stream. People were far easier to distract than animals, which made it easier to slip past. He knew there were scouts posted, but he also knew this place better than anyone alive. I guess Kel¡¯s crown passes to me now. The thought struck him with a pang of sadness, but it also steeled his resolve. He would not let the memory of his mentor down.


    Sometime later, he was standing at the closest tip of the Wilds. Despite the changes from foot traffic and siege, he''d know these trails and slopes blindfolded. He was reminded of the bold freedom he felt every time he was there. The taste of the air on his tongue, inhaling deeply through his nose, clearing his senses, the soft curve of the rolling hills under his feet, and the moonlight that illuminated the next rise. In this place Kurt wasn''t the flippant older brother, or a modestly triumphant protector. Here Kurt was something else entirely. A man in his element, even more so than having a bout in the yard, this place wasn''t like a second skin, here the second skin came off.


    Kurt took a low crouching stance and headed to that next rise, trying to get over it before anyone noticed his absence. As the incline increased, so did his need to rest, the muddy hills acting more like sand than stone. He found himself moving from tree to tree in vaulting movements, until he slipped and nearly fell headlong into a tree. He bit back a curse and continued with his mission. It was going to be a long night.

 Chapter 23 - The Burden of Secrets

    I am still dealing with the aftereffects of a tragic mishap I had in my youth. Youth being relative of course, perhaps sometime around my fiftieth forced reincarnation. I was set in a deep hibernation of sorts, having pushed my Gia too far, there was a kind of magical backfire. It may also have been the candidate, or even a natural response to the disproportionate amount of Shade I was producing. Whatever the cause was, I was unconscious for nearly a thousand years.


    In that time the reservoir had degraded, my carefully constructed society had collapsed, self-proclaimed Kings ruled over various areas and the wilds were birthed. The manifestation of Priorius Knights was the most excruciating to eliminate. Thankfully, the Garrus had not yet evolved. If a bonded knight were to ride in to battle on the back of a fully bound and mature Garru, I highly doubt even I could have smothered their collective flame. Thankfully, when I woke, I found the depths of my Gia had returned. The reservoir was placed back on track in less than a decade. The knights became fodder, but those squires, that was an unexpected treasure.


    So, I bred them, culling the flock as needed, until I found a population that could be manipulated by my whims. Docility is good for the sheep.


    Dorian was ever so grateful for having the friends he had. Jack was kind enough to allow Dorian to catch some sleep in his rooms while Jack was attending class for his other Prime, Fortitude. He slept like a rock and dreamed of jumping from a cliff with his younger brother. Strange as it was, it filled him with a sense of pride, confidence, and a bit of recklessness.


    Dorian rummaged through the things he had brought. He knew he had to meet Jack for their class in a little while but was so curious about the book he had stolen that he simply couldn''t help himself. When he got it out, however, he was overwhelmed with that sense of terror. Now that he was becoming aware of these manipulations, he was beginning to take note whenever his emotions changed abruptly without any real influence. The fact that this inanimate object was controlling him in some fashion irked his ire. He wasn''t sure how he felt about himself, but he would be damned to a cold hell before he''d allow those feelings to be anyone''s but his own.


    Like he had before, he summoned his trickle of Gia. He allowed it to flow over the book, spreading it thin across the cover. There, in the light of his Gia, the message was clear. Somehow, he could feel what it meant, like he was reading a language he¡¯d been reading his whole life, even if he had never known it existed. It was understood on a fundamental level, instinctual. The runes meant, as far as he could tell, a series of ideas connected in a chain. Permanent, imbibe, extreme emotion repel, upon close: memory drain, exception: self.


    He stared at it for a solid minute, pondering what it meant. He took a moment and put it away, the feeling of dread chilling him to his core. Finally, he decided to take another look, feeling sick as he brought it back out. He covered the book again, and the feeling subsided slightly. Curious, he tried to channel more, which wasn''t really his specialty. He felt more confident with control, not so much in raw power. Not thinking, he pulled Gia down his brows, creating lenses of a sort. He could see the runes laid out on the book and sent thin seeds of it to the rune that meant ¡°self.¡± Covering the rune, he could feel it as something foreign.


    He stopped touching the rune with his Gia, drawing it back to reveal the rune writhing. He dropped the book in a sudden panic, hopping on to a nearby chair. He looked around, knowing full well that nobody was there, but still checking for the sake of his own embarrassment. Thankfully, nobody had seen him jump up on a chair for fear of a book. He shook his head, chiding himself. Then chiding himself more, his thoughts seemed to turn on him so abruptly that he felt like he needed to hide. Just run away, just run away, coward, idiot, meddling where you shouldn''t, punishment. He turned to flee when he came across the book and stalled, staring. The voices grew to a cacophony.


    Gripping his Gia as swiftly as he could, he returned the lenses but as small and close as he could in an attempt to secure more Gia for his hand. It shot out, tendrils taking over the rune for self. The rune erupted on contact, squirming back and forth. Out of fear and aggression he drew for more, but instead tendrils of black swam through his Gia, fusing itself to the rune. It protested for a moment, audibly in fact. It let out a low hiss, before coming to a stop and solidifying.


    The sense of dread stopped, his head cleared and his focus returned. It was like a breath of fresh air after weeks inside the Monastery Mountain. He peered at the runes again feeling nothing more than his own curiosity. Picking the book up, he plopped down in the aforementioned chair for a read.


    My name, at this time, is irrelevant. I am the master and controller of my own small universe. I am the secret god of the Valley and have ruled here for longer than ten times the written histories of the world prior to the great calamity. I am the keeper of the reservoir, and I will power the engine soon. My great task is at its finish, and I so desire to remember the distance I have traveled before I may finally find my peace, if peace is indeed a reward I am worthy of. Only the Gods can divine if I am deserving of that.


    My earliest memory was that of an inheritance, of sorts...


    Dorian closed the book with a snap when the door opened, Jack walking through the door. ¡°Hey bud, I thought we were gonna meet up?¡±


    Oops.


    Dorian sighed, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°Did I mention I haven''t gotten the best of sleep lately?¡±


    With a frank look Jack said, ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I think it¡¯s because of this book.¡± Dorian said, grasping it with both hands. He lifted it and Jack visibly winced, a deep frown stuck to his face.


    ¡°Dorian,¡± he said in a harsh tone. Dorian covered the book with his shirt, and Jack''s demeanor shifted just as radically. He started to say something but stopped. After a pause he shifted his head back to Dorian. Dorian lifted it out again, and Jack seemed to grow pale in a mixture of anger and fear. Dorian moved to place it in his bag, and cinched the bag shut.


    In a much calmer tone, Jack asked, ¡°Dorian, what the hell was that?¡±


    Dorian shrugged once, ¡°a book of dark and forbidden magics.¡± He stretched his hand out and wiggled them. ¡°Ooo¡± he said, casting an air of mockery. Now Jack was frowning of his own accord.


    Dorian shrugged at him, ¡°If I tell you the truth you won¡¯t believe me.¡±


    Jack took this as a challenge, his overly competitive nature shining through. ¡°Try me.¡± He said, gaze unwavering.


    Dorian sighed out an ¡°alright,¡± before he grabbed his books and followed Jack out of the room.


    ¡°Tell ya after class? It''s a bit of a long one.¡± Dorian said, feeling a bit nervous.


    ¡°Sure, just don''t bring that book out again.¡±


    Dorian laughed as they made their way to their lecture, doing everything he could to bury his mounting concern. As he walked with Jack, he realized he had somehow forgotten the text from the book. Memory drain, indeed.


    Class was a boring affair, once or twice a month it wasn''t so bad, but the rest of the time it was so boring that Dorian was convinced that the class was secretly intended to put them all to sleep. He enjoyed the actual lecture well enough; a good lecturer would engage with you and show how the covered material was practical. This wasn''t an actual lecture, however. When they didn''t get to practically apply their Primes, it was mostly math work.


    Math itself wasn''t so bad, he quite liked solving the problems. No, what Dorian hated about classes like these were when the Sister or Brother would plop down after writing a page number on the chalkboard and promptly doze off. The current Sister that was playing at instructor was the up-tight sort. She was stuffy, prudent, and dry. Her old leathery skin seemed to accumulate wrinkles like Dorian''s gut could accumulate rolls, and despite doing his best to pay attention, he couldn''t get past how much of a waste of time it was.


    For all that, the page on the board this day led to a relatively interesting chapter about costs. Not only was Heat Syphoning costly in the caloric sense, which explained the overall leanness of most of his class, but it also could burn through one¡¯s own stores of magnesium. The side effects of magnesium deficiency were listed, and he wondered how he never noticed. Which led him to wondering if other Primes had costs like this.


    That tangent carried him through most of the rest of the class. When he finished packing up, Jack met him outside the classroom, and they headed down to get some dinner. Dorian started telling his story about the library, how he would regularly get lost trying to get around the warded doorways. At this Jack nodded, fully aware of Dorian''s odd obsession. Dorian thought it was odd that nobody else found exploring the labyrinth of their library to be exciting. Jack''s response was another painful truth that Dorian simply couldn''t argue against.


    ¡°Not everybody is as eccentric as you are.¡± Jack said plainly and without remorse.


    Dorian shrugged, ¡°can''t deny it.¡±


    Dorian, being long winded, tended to ramble on, which he had done successfully until they were in line to get their food. Behind the counter, ladle in one hand was Clarice. Her expression was one of frustrated patience, like a lioness that''s ready to pounce but hasn''t seen the opportune moment to do so.


    That kind of a look was something of a piece of art. It said, ¡°I am doing this because I have to, and given the chance, I''d love to brain you with this stone ladle.¡± She had a fake smile on half of her face, the other half almost frowning, the line of her lips making a slant as she ladled out another scoop for the picky eater. That''s when Dorian noticed who Clarice was helping, none other than Danny.


    Danny was busy pointing at something on his tray, complaining about some minor imperfection. Dorian stuck his head out of line, which caught the eye of Clarice. Dorian pointed at his still black eye expressing an exaggerated frown, then pointed at Danny. For the briefest moment a fire glinted in her eyes. Though her face didn''t express it, Dorian felt he knew what she was feeling. Wrath with a pinch of retribution, how tasty.


    Clarice smiled down at Danny, muttered some things then took his tray. She disappeared into the back for a short spell then returned. The line had moved forward, a few people apparently not willing to wait for whatever it was she was serving. Dorian and Jack had been accruing a truly abhorrent bulk of food on their trays. Danny stepped out of line, finally noticing them.


    ¡°What a surprise, pigs eating like pigs.¡± Danny muttered behind them.


    One aspect of Jack that Dorian always respected was his relentlessness. If you challenged Jack to anything, he wouldn''t back down until he had succeeded. Ever-so-often you could challenge the guy to do something ridiculous and he''d just scoff and say, ¡°after you.¡± That was his kind way of saying he wasn''t a moron, though most people couldn''t see the intelligence behind the man''s well-developed physic, Dorian certainly could. Albeit, he had his own kind of language, but it didn''t lack complexity despite the man''s black and white philosophy. Still, this situation called for a mediator of sorts, because Dorian had a really good idea as to where Jack would take such a statement.


    Forestalling Jack, Dorian extended his hand. ¡°Did you hear that Jack, I think somebody out there is speaking shithead again. I thought they banned the language last year.¡± Dorian gave a grunt of astonishment. ¡°Did you ever care to learn, Jack?¡± Dorian asked, as he was served some fried potatoes.


    Staring daggers back at Danny, Jack said, ¡°No, I don''t speak shithead.¡±


    Dorian put on a placating smile and said, ¡°more''s the pity.¡±


    Clarice walked out, holding Danny''s tray in hand. ¡°Here you are. Exactly as you requested, medium rare.¡± She handed the tray over the counter to Danny, who was now right between Jack and Dorian.


    Danny took his tray, muttering, ¡°at least she knows her place. You two should take lessons.¡± He left the serving area, chin held contemptuously high.


    Dorian looked to Clarice, inquisitive. She smirked and said, ¡°I have a feeling he''ll be learning his place very soon. The shithead.¡±


    Jack''s laughter rocked through the halls, and Dorian had to laugh a little too. It was a nice little break from the ongoing anxiety he''d been quietly cultivating over the upcoming match.


    By the time Ken and Benny joined them, Jack and Dorian were almost done eating. The two brothers sat down with their scant meals, about as much as the first two had left, and immediately pulled out a deck of cards. The smile on Benny''s face was broad, the boils on his face looking more swollen as he did so.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.¡°You guys are in for a treat. I''ve been working on a little project, any chance we can retreat to Jack''s rooms after we finish eating?¡±


    Jack looked to Dorian, and through a mouthful of food said, ¡°you still owe me that story.¡± Dorian nodded, finished chewing, and got up.


    ¡°I''m gonna get a drink to go, and I might as well share the news to the whole group then, ya?¡±


    Jack nodded and offered up his stone tankard. ¡°Grab me some more of that berry drink?¡±


    ¡°Sure, if you let me drop a few more things in my stash.¡±


    Jack nodded and continued chewing. Dorian dropped off his tray and got in line to get their drinks. Since they had been early, the lines weren''t too bad before, but now there had to be twenty people trying to get to the large wooden barrel. Dorian sighed, and waited patiently, by the time he got back to the table, all of his friends were ready to leave.


    ¡°Gonna take all day?¡± Benny asked, looking antsy.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Dorian said, absolutely serious. Benny sighed and gestured for them to start the ascent to Jack''s room. Dorian handed the tankard over, and they made their way leisurely upstairs, taking their time only as friends can. Light conversation, jokes, jabs, insults, complements, and every other inane subject came up as they migrated, but Dorian couldn''t deny feeling dread about what he had found and what the morrow would bring.


    His incessant worry finally abated as they entered Jack''s room. His room was more home to all of them, mostly because Jack didn''t have a roommate. That takes a bit of explaining, because most students didn''t have a choice. You got stuck with whichever roommate the elders chose for you, that was that, no debates. Jack, on the other hand, had been granted a room by himself for one particular reason, he snored.


    That explanation doesn''t really give justice to what Jack does, but it was as accurate as you could get without getting long-winded. Jack snored so incessantly that he had kept his roommates awake for weeks before their poor performance had reflected in their classes. The elders had tried three different people before giving up and simply giving Jack a room by himself.


    Dorian, wise to his friend and planning on using the spare bed, had come prepared. The two long pieces of cork he intended to use that night were safely stashed in his satchel, along with a change of clothes and a few other amenities. Since the next day was not only a leisure day, but also the continuation of their class''s tournament, he didn''t want to risk getting roughed up again.


    After the door had shut, Benny was kind enough to shape some chairs and a table for everyone, promising he''d put the stone back before the end of the night.


    ¡°Alright, now I''ve been excited for this for a good while now. I made these decks for us, each with their own variations. I made the cards out of super-thin itacolumite. It''s a type of stone that grows between quartz geodes, and it''s quite flexible. I had them coated in a thin membrane by some harvesters then dried for the last month. I''ve even shuffled them a few times to see how they feel, and they''re not bad.¡± Benny was talking at a rapid pace, obviously excited about showing off the hard work he put it.


    ¡°Yeah, but what is it?¡± Ken asked.


    ¡°Oh, right. So, I found this one day in the library.¡± Benny reached into his bag, pulling out a massive tome with an interesting symbol on the front. ¡°It¡¯s a game, this is the entire collection of cards. It used to be very popular some three thousand years ago, but the game lost favor because people found better ways to gamble. Since many of the characters were actual people, and the game didn''t reflect those people in the kindest light, well you can see where this is going.¡±


    ¡°But I don''t, please continue.¡± Dorian said, curious.


    ¡°Well, anytime people from the Monastery history are reflected poorly, the Monastery usually covers it up or shuts it down. Bad for the public view or some such.¡±


    Dorian nodded, ¡°interesting,¡± he commented.


    ¡°Wait, I don''t get it. The Monastery is about truth, and the light, and the path, as the path is made of all three.¡± Jack said, ever the pious one.


    Benny sighed, ¡°Jack, the divines have their views, I''m sure, and what the path intends is great, but do you really think people can uphold those values as well as the Gods do?¡± Benny''s question was a door opener for a long-standing debate between the two, one that Dorian didn''t want to listen to for the nth time. He was about to get them back on subject, when Ken spoke first.


    ¡°So, about this game then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, so here''s how it works...¡± Ken began, pulling out a deck and showing them the rules. They played one round open-handed, for practice, then they started playing for real and Dorian was impressed by Benny''s insight into play styles.


    Ken was given a very passive deck, one that set things up and kept him safe until he could take the victory with two cards in the deck that had to be played together. Benny had an interesting deck involved with killing and reviving his minions to eventually overwhelm anybody else. Jack''s deck was quick and brutal but had a tendency to short out if the game went on too long, and Dorian''s deck was a combo style deck that allowing chaining things together to blow people up. It was fun, addictive, and before they knew it they were on their third round.


    At this point, everybody was pretty loose, and table conversation began in earnest.


    ¡°So, you were gonna tell us about that book then, Dorian?¡± Jack asked.


    ¡°What book?¡± Benny asked, frowning. No Benny, I''m not gonna steal your thunder.


    ¡°Right, yeah, but I don''t think they''ll believe me if they don''t see the book.¡± Dorian replied to Jack.


    Jack''s frown was comically heavy, but for good reason. The book made him sick just looking at it at first. Thankfully, Jack nodded, and Dorian reached for his satchel to get it out. As he did, Jack pointedly stood and looked away. Both Ken and Benny raised a brow at that, a gesture that showed them for the siblings they were.


    Dorian pulled the book out and both of them paled. ¡°I know it¡¯s upsetting to look at it but keep your eyes on it.¡± Dorian said, then slid the book under the table. Both brothers looked relieved, until Dorian took the book out again.


    ¡°Is it just me, or is that book making me angry and afraid?¡± Ken asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s not just you.¡± Benny replied, looking on edge.


    ¡°So, we can all agree, this book is doing something, yes?¡± Dorian asked the party.


    A few nods and Dorian put the book away, then he began to tell the story of how he found it over a game of cards.


    The whole story took two rounds, despite nobody interrupting. When it was over, Benny was the first one to speak.


    ¡°Wait, go back. You mean to tell me you have a secret entrance to the women''s baths, and you didn''t care to share that with us?!¡±


    Jack burst out into laughter, ¡°after all that, that''s the only question you have?!¡±


    Benny just nodded, looking grave.


    Dorian shook his head, smiling. He was still self-conscious about his little misadventure, especially since he had disappeared on his friends that day. The entire story he told was laced with an overtone of guilt, until Ken started speaking.


    ¡°That explains where you were, we looked everywhere for you. Is that how you got that black eye?¡±


    Dorian shook his head, noticing a glare coming from Jack. ¡°I got jumped, not sure why. Best not to worry about it, healer took care of most of it.¡±


    Jack looked concerned and... angry? Dorian was unsure until Jack commented, ¡°if that''s what you look like after a healer, I''d hate to see your ugly mug beforehand.¡±


    The mock offense on Dorian''s face seemed to shift the mood in the room, finally. ¡°Hey now, even beaten and battered, I''m Gods damned beautiful. My fat cheeks just get in the way of my fine features.¡± Dorian gestured at his face.


    ¡°A face only a mother could love. A blind mother.¡± Benny said, lilting his tone to sound uncertain. They all laughed together and continued with their game.


    ¡°So, say we did believe you,¡± said Benny, playing a card. ¡°What are we supposed to take from all that? A secret passage in the library leads you to an enchanted book that only you can look at without getting nauseous? Then, fudging your escape and getting stuck for fear of being discovered? You¡¯re lucky the crazy guy doesn''t have a thing for young women, or you''d have been fucked.¡±


    Ken shot a look at his brother for the foul language, but Benny shrugged mouthing the word ¡°what?¡± before saying aloud, ¡°It''s not like there''s a better word for it.¡± Benny¡¯s expression was one of exacerbation.


    Jack was scowling again, and Dorian chuckled. ¡°Jack, swear for us, just once! In the years I''ve known you, I''ve never heard you drop the big one.¡±


    ¡°Some of us have higher standards, weren''t you complaining two months ago about Sister Brenda spending too much time on etiquette and proper language?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that doesn''t apply to you fuckers.¡±


    Benny laughed incessantly, even snorting a bit, which led the others to chuckle as well. When he finished, he got serious. ¡°Really though, Dorian, why doesn''t the book make you sick?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that''s its own thing, really. I''m not even supposed to talk about it.¡± Dorian rubbed the back of his head, trying to laugh away the conversation, the blank stares that met his eyes told him he wouldn''t be getting off the hook that easily.


    ¡°Okay, okay, but I need you to swear you won¡¯t talk.¡± They all nodded in unison, then cast disbelieving glares at each other. ¡°That won¡¯t do. I need you to swear on your soul¡¯s rebirthed, on your hope to ascension, and on the blood of your kin.¡± They looked back at him, Ken rolling his eyes. ¡°Not mellow drama guys, if I tell you, well, I might be forced to judgment before I''m eighteen, and I don''t know if you guys have noticed or not but I''m really not ready.¡±


    A long pause drew out, before Ken asked, ¡°are you serious? Like that bad?¡±


    Dorian nodded somberly, a bit ashamed for having kept secrets from his friends.


    Faithful as ever, loyal to the end, Jack was first to say anything. ¡°I swear it,¡± he said, placing a fist to his heart. Dorian didn''t really understand the gesture, it was a Kressian thing. Benny and Ken both mimicked Jack, and to his surprise neither of them turned it into a joke.


    Dorian took a long breath and decided, if there was anybody in the world he could trust, it would be these jerks, and if they could put the jokes aside for a bit then he could too. He summoned his Gia over his eyes like he had last time, as close and as small as he could. He moved to get the book when Benny squawked.


    ¡°Dorian, how are you doing that with your eyes? You look like the Grand Elder.¡± He said, tilting his head.


    ¡°Do what?¡± Jack asked.


    ¡°You don''t see how green his eyes are?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Jack turned his head to look into Dorian''s eyes. ¡°Whoa, neat trick.¡±


    Dorian was a bit confused. ¡°What do you mean? I have Gia over my eyes, not in them.¡±


    Ken looked confused, ¡°Gia?¡± he asked.


    Benny cut him off. ¡°Not in? Here.¡± Benny pulled out a small bag of sand and poured it onto the table. He drew on his Prime, and now that Dorian was looking through his Gia, he could see trickles of Gia gathering around Benny, funneling through him, and enveloping the hand he was shaping with. It was incredibly interesting, and Dorian decided he would have to steal glances at others when they activated their Primes to see if Gia behaved the same way for them.


    Benny withdrew his hand and, using his other, picked up the small mirror he had just shaped. He handed it to Dorian, who examined his reflection. He had expected to see something like small lenses over his eyes, but instead, his irises, normally a deep green, were now an obnoxiously bright green.


    While Dorian was looking, Benny said to Jack, ¡°Jack, hit the lights real quick, I have a theory.¡±


    ¡°Uh, okay?¡± Jack said, sounding confused. He waved his hand and the lamps he had on his walls all went out. The room was completely black, except for the reflection of his now glowing eyes. He put the mirror down and slid it back to Benny.


    ¡°Well, I guess the goose is cooked.¡± Dorian said and summoned all his Gia to the fore. Instead of having it come out of his hands, mostly to show off, he drew it out of his back making it look like wings. The room lit up, and Dorian could finally see the expressions on his friends faces. Jack was the only one not wearing a face of awe, instead, he was frowning. The other two looked so comically astounded that Dorian couldn''t help but laugh at the two brothers.


    ¡°Jack, could we get some light?¡± Dorian asked. Jack just waved his hand, not even looking away, and all the lamps in the room were alight again. Dorian pulled his Gia through his body to make a mass in front of his hands. There was just a bit more than he remembered, and despite himself, he grinned at the small success.


    ¡°This is Gia. I¡¯m not supposed to know how to summon it yet, though every initiate has the ability to. There¡¯s also something else.¡± Dorian didn''t like summoning Shade, the black stuff made him feel sick, but for the sake of showmanship he did so.


    He summoned the smallest amount he could to his left hand and removed all Gia from it. It solidified as an elongated teardrop, slightly longer at the thin side, and he gripped it at the base using the semicircle at the bottom as a kind of hand guard.


    ¡°The Grand Elder calls this Kraken, but I don''t think that''s right. Originally, it was called Shade, and it¡¯s the inverse to Gia. Gia and Shade are what power our Primes, I think.¡±


    Even Jack looked astonished now. Dorian cleared his throat and continued. ¡°There''s so much they''re not telling us, and this is just an early guess, but I think the Grand Elder is possessed.¡±

 Chapter 24 - Bound by Blood and Light

    The way in which the Shade, a poor name for the power, and Gia operate are just as different as primal powers and will casting. Will casting, the manifestation of ones own will by way of perverting the interplay between the Gia and Shade, is capable of so much more depending on the way one may cast it. Gia itself is more like the raw wood a carpenter works with, the Shade the nails. The primal power one uses, if any, can affect the outcome of any such endeavor as well. For example, the process of altering a living creature isn''t as simple as it is for flora. Just as it is easier to alter a seed using the Shade based primal power, it is significantly easier to alter the unborn. In fact, creatures without any capacity for Gia can''t be altered, just as one can''t telepathically push anything organic. The alterations to the creature now known as Moder was a triumph of effort, and would leave me exhausted for weeks after any alteration. These powers seem limitless when used, but the cost is always high. I am still craving iron and bone, sometimes to a bestial level. I do not revel in eating living things, but it does. It loves it, delights in it, and when the servants find my body covered in blood and laughing historically, I doubt they know what they''re really seeing before they die. I''ve finally decided on a name for the entity, I shall call him Bacchus, and we are beautiful together.


    Moving through the dark woods at night, trudging through muddy terrain with a pack full of survival gear, was far from Kurt''s idea of a good time. Maybe it could be tolerable with a companion of the female persuasion, but more likely it would be miserable regardless of the company. Moonlight filtered through the bare branches above, casting an eerie glow, while the air hummed with anticipation, and the night sky promised a spectacle. The two moons, one partially eclipsing the other, shone brightly enough to illuminate the deer path he was following. He knew these woods and didn''t need the light but was grateful to the Gods for its blessing all the same. He knew his night would be filled with much more than flight, he had to watch for enemy scouts, and to make it worse he had to make sure his side didn''t shoot him down as an enemy.


    This was why Kurt chose the path he did. Larger trails were available, certainly easier to navigate, but they also made him far more visible. With tensions running high and his father out there somewhere, he wasn¡¯t about to risk his chance on something as reckless as friendly fire. This trail was his best option, not just because it was less traveled, but because few knew it as intimately as he did. One small cliff in particular would be his saving grace."Small" is a relative term, of course, but some things, particularly large structures, deserve absolutes. Take cliffs, for example. Whether small or large, the term should inherently suggest one thing: falling from the top means certain death. There¡¯s no need for debate; if it doesn¡¯t meet that grim qualification, it¡¯s not a cliff. That¡¯s probably how the word originated in the first place, some unfortunate soul tumbled off a sharp drop, and they named it after him. Poor Cliff. Never did figure out how to tie his bootlaces.


    Perhaps Dorian was getting into his head, because falling wasn''t a possibility. This was his home, his turf, and every secret pass and subtle route had either been discovered by himself or passed on to him from his elders. Most of those elders were either indisposed or decomposed, depending upon the elder, neither of which would be coming to visit him on this night. I hope.


    Finally, after half a night of slogging through the mud he came to the rocky cliff he had been looking for. It wasn''t anything special, which is why it made for such a great spot. The rock face was white, which made the whole thing seem to blend in. Somebody, either a priest or a very dedicated smuggler, had found a cave and expanded it. The opening was narrow, but almost completely hidden unless you knew what you were looking for. Kel had shown him this, years back when he had passed his thirteenth trial. After a night out under the stars and proving he could set up a proper camp and fire without aid, his reward was this wonderful little hideout. Too narrow for bears, sometimes there were small critters but they were easily pushed out. The cats generally didn¡¯t get this close to Metan, and bears wouldn''t like the extremely jagged rocks that lined the entrance.


    Yes, the spot was perfect, and as Kurt came to the crack in the rock that was only visible from the right angle, he found that it was also occupied. A dim light shone through the hole, a branch had been placed in front of the entrance and was doing a poor job of hiding the firelight.


    Kurt thought it over for a moment, before deciding he would investigate. He figured that the hole would be hard pressed to fit more than three, and if it came to it, he''d just defend himself at the narrow point. If they were friendly, great. He could get out of the mud. If they weren''t, well, let¡¯s hope they were.


    Kurt discarded the fur branch he had dragged along with him, and very quietly replaced the covering branch as he entered. The crackle from the fire was soft, the smoke sifted upwards and seemed to escape through natural ventilation. It was, after all, a really good spot.


    He turned the corner and saw the sleeping form of a young woman. Kurt''s interest was piqued, and he tilted his head in contemplation. On the one hand, it was very rude to wake a sleeping lady, on the other, this female mountain troll was in his cave. This cave was only known to a few people, of which none were his age, or of the finer sex. So, who, in the fuck, is in my Gods damned cave.


    At the thought struck, he had an idea, and despite his better judgment, he voiced his thought. With his deepest baritone, he boomed, ¡°Who, in the fuck, is in my Gods damned cave?!¡±


    The young woman startled, jumping up at a speed no mortal could match. In a blur, Kurt found himself with his back against the stone wall, a black crescent held to his throat, and a set of intoxicating amber eyes glaring at his. Her silhouette and her eyes were all he could make out, both of which were familiar.


    ¡°Move and you die.¡± Her eyes carried a depth of severity to them, cold, despite their warm hue. Kurt didn''t budge.


    She took a step back, holding the blade at arm¡¯s length. Her hand lifted, and light filled the chamber. An orb of light sprang into existence, which allowed Kurt to finally get a look at his assailant. The orb grew, specs floating through it until a series of markings became clear in the negative shape of the sphere. It burst, and just before the effects of it rushed his mind, he stupidly asked, ¡°Diana?¡±


    Some part of Kurt knew he was unconscious. He understood he was dreaming, yet the shock of seeing Diana lingered. Dreams, however, have a way of unraveling all sense of direction. His desires and curiosities felt distant, leaving only the detached observer in their place.


    ¡°You¡¯ve said the words, brother, but now comes the part that¡¯s going to suck,¡± Dorian said. He knelt before Kurt, his youthful appearance at odds with the gravity in his tone. Taking a long, thoughtful breath, Dorian spoke again.


    ¡°I need you to think of a memory¡ªany memory¡ªbut it has to be a strong one, and it has to be of me.¡±


    ¡°Any memory?¡± Kurt croaked. His body ached, battered and exhausted, and if not for the strange urgency in Dorian¡¯s words, he would have succumbed to sleep. By Metae¡¯s own grace, he might have fallen asleep right here¡ªa quick nap wouldn¡¯t hurt¡­


    The sharp sound of Dorian snapping his fingers broke through Kurt¡¯s haze, irritating him. His annoyance must have shown, as Dorian pursed his lips and tilted his head, watching him closely.


    ¡°Come on Kurt, this is to save your life! Wake up!¡± He clapped his hands once, and Kurt did all he could to focus. Right, a memory of Dorian? Should be simple enough, right? As he thought vigorously, despite the multitude of experiences they had shared, nothing came to the fore. He tried harder, and after a long moment, just as Dorian took a breath to shout at him again, Kurt finally spoke.


    ¡°Remember your birthday, when we went to that pool?¡± Kurt managed to croak.


    Dorian smiled softly and nodded. ¡°Which part?¡± He looked away in shame, ¡°when I let go?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Kurt managed a weak chuckle, ¡°when we jumped off the top of the cliff.¡± He smiled at his younger brother, and Dorian beamed. His eyes watered a touch, and his smile broadened.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. He reached out and a hum began. Kurt wasn''t sure what it was from, he was focusing on the memory. Dorian held a hand to Kurt''s temple, and a green light shone brightly, and despite closing his eyes, the light still left Kurt seeing spots. He blinked furiously, shifting his face as he did so, as if by stretching his face it would clear his vision.


    Dorian sat in front of Kurt holding a rugged crystal. He offered it to Kurt and said, ¡°be careful with this.¡±


    Kurt took the crystal, it was surprisingly light for its size, roughly as large as his forearm. Dorian took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The hum returned, and Dorian''s hand began to glow a blinding white. He put his hand to his temple and after a moment it seemed as though he was pulling something out of his head, within ten seconds he was holding another rough crystal, slightly larger than the one Kurt held.


    ¡°Kurt, I need you to come to a knee, just like me.¡± His voice, still a tenor, cracked as he spoke. Despite this, Kurt knew this was serious by Dorian''s expression. He tried to move, but the pain was blinding.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay Kurt, I can give you strength.¡± As he spoke, green light poured out of him. A sphere formed around the two of them, and suddenly Kurt''s body didn''t hurt any more. In fact, Kurt felt fucking great. He sat up, extending his right leg.


    Dorian grabbed his shoulder. ¡°Kurt, don''t be alarmed, but I''m going to stab you with this. You''re going to have a memory when I do. It¡¯s the same memory, just my side of it. Ready?¡±


    ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa little brother. Stab? Why can''t you just do the melty thing you just did to get these stupid things?¡± Dorian rolled his eyes, then shirked his left arm out of his tunic. Two fresh scars ran from just off the side of his neck half the length down to his chest. Kurt grimaced at the sight, it looked red and agitated.


    ¡°Look, I''ve got two more today, so if you don''t mind?¡± Kurt looked to his brother and saw him sheepishly smiling, and Kurt smirked, shaking his head.


    ¡°Little brother, we aren''t getting involved in something incredibly stupid, are we?¡± Kurt said, smiling broadly.


    ¡°Keep pace as best as you can, I won¡¯t leave ya behind.¡± Dorian said. At an unrealistic speed, Dorian moved, lancing Kurt through the heart. Kurt gasped in shock, eyes going wide.


    ¡°Don''t be such a sissy. It shouldn''t hurt,¡± Dorian said, looking smug. He was right, Kurt barely felt a thing. He should have been run through, but there was no sensation of anything piercing through his back. Instead, a memory surfaced in his mind: soaring through the air, reckless and carefree, alongside his big brother. The swirl of emotions it carried, fear, happiness, joy, and exhilaration, it was overwhelming. But it also brought a pang of guilt. Not for what they had done, but for how Dorian saw him.Kurt had always shared a natural bond with his younger brother, their age difference never a barrier to fast friendship. Yet, seeing himself through Dorian¡¯s eyes in that memory was a revelation. Dorian had looked up to him, idolized him in a way Kurt had never truly understood. He was a pillar to Dorian, someone to aspire to, someone worth emulating. The realization made Kurt¡¯s heart ache, not just for failing to notice it sooner, but for not being the perceptive brother Dorian deserved. And, perhaps, because Kurt had never seen himself as a role model. Deep down, he wished his little brother had someone better to look up to.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t leave the sphere,¡± Dorian said, snatching the stone from Kurt¡¯s hand. His fingers brushed the two scars running from his shoulder to his heart. ¡°They¡¯ll see me when I go. They¡¯ll look for signs, you see?¡± He positioned the crystal between his fingers, aligning it carefully beside the jagged lines.


    Dorian locked eyes with Kurt, his resolve was more unyielding than Kurt had ever known. With a curt nod, Dorian muttered, ¡°Right.¡± The chamber around them blurred as the light flared, but it couldn¡¯t muffle the anguished wail that tore from the boy.


    Breathing in sharp, shallow gasps, Dorian steadied himself and pressed the crystal into his flesh. It sank seamlessly, merging with his body.


    The reckless grin and savage gleam in Dorian¡¯s eyes were unnerving, a haunting image burned into Kurt¡¯s memory, and the last thing he saw before waking.


    The cold stone of the cave was offset slightly by the warmth of a fire, the crackling branches, a sign of poorly chosen wood. Then again, it was spring.


    Kurt sat up groaning. He held his hand to his head for a moment before recognizing the silhouette from before. After a moment for his eyes to adjust, he looked the woman over. Across the fire sat a woman that so resembled Diana that it made him, for a brief second, hope against hope. He knew though, despite entertaining the notion and having good reason to, he knew it wasn''t Diana. Those eyes, those viciously savage eyes. The image of Dorian looking at him ran through his mind and he shook his head to clear it.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Kurt asked in a near whisper.


    A raised eyebrow came as a reply. ¡°The real question is what are you?¡± A smooth voice sounded, flowing over each word in a way that made Kurt think of butter over warm bread. Her voice melted as she spoke, and it was alluring in the extreme. Not thinking, Kurt replied.


    ¡°I am Kurt, and what I am is curious about who you are.¡±


    A soft chuckle at that, then Kurt noticed something. The same way Dorian used to send thoughts to him, he didn''t do it with language at first. It started with little things, his pissy mood when he had to make dough or haul wood, his elation at opening a new book, or his excitement when they''d go adventuring in the Wilds. In that same way, he recognized the feel of it. Despite it feeling like his own feelings, these other feelings had a certain flavor to them that Kurt couldn''t place. He knew at that point he was being manipulated, and he did everything he could to shut out all the emotions he was picking up on.


    The woman''s eyes got wide, and she smiled in earnest now. Her teeth reflected the firelight as she spoke. Her delicate face off set by a feral expression.


    ¡°And what are you to shut me out?¡± Her head turned and tilted as she spoke. ¡°You can''t be a broken vessel, or you''d already be walking home not sure why you were out so late. You can''t have the gift, you are no rebirth, and yet I can feel the presence of Shade in you. You''re not a vessel, the Gia you have is average for a living creature, so tell me. What are you?¡± She punctuated the last three words, adding an edge to an already sharp disregard for his question.


    ¡°Uh-uh.¡± Kurt shook his head. ¡°I asked you first, and you just manipulated that answer out of me. You want answers, so do I.¡± He pointed his finger accusingly at her.


    She looked sour for a moment and glared at him. Subtly, she demeanor shifted and she shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°Fine, what would you like to know?¡±


    Kurt glared back, thinking. ¡°Why do you look so much like Diana?¡±


    She shrugged again, ¡°I don''t know any Diana''s so I wouldn''t know. What are you if not a broken vessel?¡±


    Kurt shrugged in kind, ¡°I don''t know the first thing about what you''re talking about, so I wouldn''t know.¡± He said, putting on a flat tone. ¡°What''s your name?¡±


    She looked obstinate as she replied. ¡°Quena. Wha-¡±


    Kurt shot up, ¡°Q?!¡± He looked down at her, seeing her in a new light. She was much older now, how had that happened? No wonder he had mistaken her and Diana, they were roughly the same age now. Well, maybe not anymore.


    ¡°Oh, shit Q, I''m sorry. I''ve got some bad news, though it¡¯s good to see you.¡± Quena looked at Kurt, suddenly appraising him. Kurt sat back down. ¡°Quena, it¡¯s Diana.¡±


    ¡°I don''t know any Diana.¡± She shook her head.


    ¡°I have a hard time believing you don''t know your own sister.¡± Kurt replied, feeling disgusted.


    Quena got suddenly quiet, and her eyebrows grew heavy.


    ¡°There''s a plague going through what''s left of Metan. I''m sorry, but it took her.¡± Kurt stared at the fire for a while and Quena didn''t say a word.


    ¡°I''m sorry, but I don''t remember... well, anything. What would be six years ago, I woke up in the Monastery, that¡¯s as early as I can recall. I''m only out here to... well, I''ll be ascending in a few weeks.¡± She got quiet again and just stared at the fire. A long while passed before anybody spoke, and to Kurt''s surprise, Quena was the one to break the silence.


    ¡°So, I um, I had a sister?¡± Kurt nodded and may have gotten something in his eye.


    ¡°Can you tell me about her?¡± She asked quietly.


    A long time passed, Kurt talking about Diana for a while, which moved to what the two sisters¡¯ lives were like. Then he spoke about everything, about their little village in the Wilds, about where Quena had come from, about learning the staff and bow despite being a Weaver. He crammed this in over an hour before he was too parched to continue. His bags had been laid out beside the entrance to the cavern, and he got up to retrieve them.


    ¡°I''m parched, I need a sec.¡± He said as he stood, ¡°How''d you find this cave anyways? Nobody is supposed to know about it.¡±


    He got to his packs and finished rummaging before she replied. ¡°I can sense it.¡±


    Kurt raised a brow at that. ¡°Sense it?¡± He said flatly, disbelief in his voice.


    She nodded, ¡°which reminds me.¡± With a flick of her hand, several bars ran across the entrance, effectively shutting them in. ¡°Don''t want any more intruders tonight, next thing you know my parents will come walking in.¡± She said, jokingly.


    Kurt frowned, and Quena picked it up immediately. ¡°I don''t have those, do I?¡± She asked pensively.


    Kurt shook his head, ¡°no, I''m sorry. When you were young. You do have kin in Metan though. Your great aunt is the village head, she was really broken up from Diana.¡±


    Quena looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded to herself.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, it just explains some things. Long backstory, I guess. Kurt, I''ve been sent to the Wilds to do something about the situation down here. The Kressians, well, they''ve got more than just their goats now. Three Priorius have defected to them, along with several Vessels. They''re trying to revolt against the Monastery, against the priesthood. They''ve made some bold accusations, and I can''t ascend until I''ve stopped the fighting. For me to do that, I must stop their arcane corps.¡±


    Kurt stopped after taking a long pull of water. ¡°Now, don''t take this the wrong way Q, but what do you want me to do about it?¡±


    ¡°Well, you''re after your dad, right? You seem trustworthy enough, you know the terrain and you used to know me. What do you say we make a deal?¡±


    The rest of the evening divulged into food and conversation. Quena was much less aggressive now that she didn''t view Kurt as a threat, and as she relaxed, so did Kurt. She was kind enough to move the stone to allow more of the smoke to flow up and out, and even ¡°Shaped,¡± as she called it, a platform for Kurt to sleep on. She also expanded the room out, smoothed the walls, and somehow managed to pull water into a natural spring at the far side of the chamber. It was the most luxurious stay in a cave Kurt had ever had, and considering the awful wet outside, it beat the hell out of sleeping in the mud. Before Kurt drifted off to sleep, he wondered how much he should trust Quena. She was somebody from his and Dorian''s past, but it seemed that she was only intent on ascension. When she spoke about it there was a sudden hunger, a need to leave this place. Kurt didn''t believe it was the Valley she hated, judging from what she had mentioned to Dorian, Kurt suspected she hated the idea of being confined against her will. Kurt worried about what would cause someone to develop that kind of phobia, which were his last thoughts before finding sleep.


    The memory of jumping off a cliff with his older brother filled Kurt''s mind. The sense of wonder, exhilaration and trust flooded his emotions. The sight of the fast-approaching water filled him with dread, and as he broke the water, his eyes opened.


    The bright light surrounding the two brothers made Dorian look like a rendition of Gwendos. Albeit short and chubby. The smoke lofting from Dorian''s eyes was disconcerting, however. Then the light winked out, but the ¡°strength¡± Dorian had granted him never dissipated.


    Dorian sat flat and rolled into a fetal position. Kurt moved to help him up when the screaming started in earnest. Dorian writhed on the floor shouting guttural nonsense. The agony he was experiencing had to be severe, Kurt had never seen Dorian behave like this. It was unsettling to see his little brother gasping for breath, convulsing uncontrollably, shaking and twisting his limbs unnaturally. It felt like a stone had just settled in the pit of Kurt''s gut, especially as Dorian''s eyes rolled upwards and his head turned. He twitched and contorted, turning the stone in Kurt''s gut to pure dread.


    Kurt moved to get Dorian up, but Moder came out of the shadows eyeing Kurt.


    ¡°Stop.¡± Moder croaked.


    Kurt looked angrily at the creature, bile forming in his gorge. ¡°You just try and stop me.¡±


    ¡°You must leave him, or it¡¯s for nothing. Don''t even touch him.¡± Moder''s face was alarmed, so Kurt paused. Seeing something so inhuman with a very human expression was like seeing a snake smile. The rock in Kurt''s gut got larger.


    With a sneer, Kurt backed away, hearing Dorian wail even harder. ¡°Then what am I supposed to do?¡±


    A cracking noise that Kurt interpreted as a chuckle sounded from Moder. ¡°You were here just now, weren''t you? You are bound.¡±


    ¡°I don''t know what that means. What about Dorian, how do I help?¡±


    Moder shook his head. ¡°You don''t. He is the holder of the bond, there is a price to pay, and this is it. It will go on for some time, but it will fade. In the meantime, it¡¯s time to start your training.¡± Moder brushed something off his robe and gestured for Kurt to follow. It didn''t sit well with Kurt to leave his brother there, but he followed Moder against his better judgement.


    ¡°What training? You know, the ominous creature bit is already getting old. Be forthcoming, or I take my brother, and we leave.¡± Kurt''s face must have been stone because his statement seemed to take.


    Moder nodded once and spoke as they walked. ¡°Your brother is quite special, young hunt. I''m very old, and though my freedom has been limited for a long time, I have never met anyone that could hope to contend with our oppressor, Bacchus. His real name is lost to time, but know this without doubt, he has no sanity left to himself. He seeks to do something, of which I don''t know. What I do know is that he requires death to achieve his goals, and soon your small village will be just another sacrifice to his ends. If you wish to prevent this fate you will help your brother with all that you have.¡± Moder came to a wall and gestured with his hand. A doorway opened and he quickly moved through it as though this was an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it was.


    ¡°You are bound now, so pray your brother isn''t as brash as you are. I''ve wagered fifteen millennia on him, so I also pray you are ready for the task.¡± Moder stopped and chuckled for a moment, all cackling and croaking. ¡°Of course you''re ready for the task. You''ve already wagered your life on it.¡±


    Kurt looked curiously at the thing. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Kurt asked, sounding unsure.


    ¡°You''re bound now, Kurt Hunt. I suggest you get trained in your new skills with all haste, because there will be a time when your little brother may die.¡±


    ¡°And you''ve somehow convinced him to risk his life for you?¡±


    The cackling doubled, this time in earnest. ¡°No, you fool, he''s simply acting on the information he has, working with me has already increased his chances. He''s acting because you, your family, and every other creature in the valley will remain here until Bacchus fails. You are all cattle to him, your lives are lies. There is no shortage on Steelfyre, there is no food shortage, and there has never been a reason for war. These are all the ways he controls you, keeps you confined, keeps you here to die and feed his precious engine.¡± At this Moder looked disgusted. He paused before a new doorway. ¡°I will take it upon myself to train you, as your bond mate won¡¯t be available for some time. Fool boy, he''ll scar from this, he should have split the burden. He carried the pain himself, for you.¡± Moder looked at Kurt contemptuously. ¡°But you shouldn''t be the one to learn alone, seeing as you''ve bet your life on the outcome.¡± Moder walked through the doorway and Kurt followed. They were back in the arena.


    ¡°What do you mean I''ve bet my life on the outcome? What did I say about being forthcoming? Don''t take my flippant behavior as absolute, I will take my brother and go.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. You were quite clear about that before, and I reminded you that you are now bound. If your brother dies, so do you.¡± Moder''s twisted smile matched his twisted face in a horrid amalgamation of some kind of disturbed nightmare, but for his eyes. His eyes shone bright with pity.


    Kurt woke on his cot and sat bolt upright. He felt like he was going to be sick, and not just as an expression. He headed towards the cave entrances, finding his path to be barred. So, as to be polite, he emptied his stomach in the most immediate corner. ¡°Good morning, Quena.¡± Kurt said, and promptly continued heaving.

 Chapter 25 - A Will Unbroken

    To feel anything, after all this time, is a cruel reminder of my own humanity. My soul is ancient. If there is an experience to be had, I have lived it. Yet for me to feel now requires such extremes that it is maddening.


    Maddening, like the first time my fingers curl around the Kraken each morning. Maddening, like the hunger for blood, the quiet hatred for both the living and the dead. The living I resent. The dead I envy. Yes, I can still feel, but not in ways that change easily. Years pass like whispers in the dark, and more often than anything, I feel exhausted by the ragged breath of existence.


    Bacchus, however¡­ whether it is part of me or I am part of it, I do not know. It simply is. And it wants. It seeks only to extinguish anything that is self-aware.


    But Bacchus does understand one thing. A single human emotion, bound to us both. Bacchus, to deal death, I for power. We hunger, we cave to, and we are never sated.


    Sweet, sweet gluttony.


    After Dorian''s night with his friends, unburdening himself of his secrets, he slept better than he could remember. The cork earplugs he had brought were a life saver, as he was pretty sure he could feel the other bed shaking throughout the night. Jack''s snoring, like everything the guy did, was Gods damned impressive.


    Jack was kind enough to shake Dorian awake. Jack was talking when Dorian opened his eyes, so Dorian put a finger up and began removing the earplugs.


    Jack grinned looking goofy. ¡°Were those really necessary?¡±


    Dorian shrugged raising his eyebrow, ¡°not really sure. I didn''t hear a thing, though I regret not bringing an extra set for my nose. Morning, by the way.¡±


    The Tanner brothers had left before it got too late. Dorian figured he would crash in Jack''s room, knowing that by the end of the day, he would probably end up fighting Danny. The thought made things awkward, but Jack was aware of the situation and was more than happy to accommodate him. Jack also seemed determined to help Dorian prepare, though Dorian suspected his plan involved little more than keeping him distracted.


    Since it was a leisure day, they had time to kill, but all Dorian wanted was for the matches to start. The anticipation had been eating at him for days, and now that the moment had finally arrived, his nerves were beginning to get the better of him.


    They headed down the stairs to grab some breakfast, a mundane affair with little notoriety. Not that the food wasn''t delicious, the cooks always did an outstanding job. Dorian''s issue was with his focus, his attention split between his upcoming match, something that may affect him in a very direct way, and the book he now kept stashed in his robes that seemed to contradict every bit of Monastery doctrine.


    Dorian nodded to something Benny was saying, and then continued to stare off, caught in a whirlwind of his thoughts. Benny snagged his attention again, which frustrated Dorian to no end. He looked over to his friend who was pointing at something behind him. Following his hand, Dorian turned to see Malik standing by the open doors of the dining hall. Malik smiled broadly, gesturing for Dorian to come over. Dorian stood from his bench, excusing himself from his friends and strode over, slightly surprised at Malik''s presence.


    It wasn''t that Malik being in this dining hall was surprising, Dorian had seen him here before. It was that Malik was actively trying to catch Dorian''s attention, that he wanted to have a word with him in public. It might sound silly, but popularity was something Malik had obviously cultivated, and people seeing Dorian with him would likely harm his popularity more than help it. Dorian''s surprise quickly dissipated, however, as Malik went into the hall to wait for Dorian.


    Before Dorian left the dining hall, he called out to his friends. ¡°Where are you guys gonna be?¡±


    ¡°Playing Elder Wars up in Jack''s room,¡± called Benny looking excited. ¡°We told you that twice already!¡±


    Dorian just waved at them in a shooing motion, ¡°Sorry, I''ll catch up in a bit.¡± He felt bad for not hearing them the first two times, but he couldn''t think straight with all the worry he was hanging on to.


    Dorian came into the hall, the Giastone around him lighting the hallway brilliantly, the reflective smooth stone making it more glaring than it ought to be. Down the hall, where it wasn''t so bright, Malik leaned against the wall.


    ¡°That''s not shady at all.¡± Dorian said, putting a fake smile on his face to let Malik know he was teasing. Malik just smiled and gave a lazy shrug.


    ¡°Walk with me Dorian, I have a few things to discuss with you before this afternoon''s entertainments begin.¡±


    Dorian nodded, following Malik down the hallway. ¡°Sure, anything pressing?¡±


    Malik laughed, ¡°perhaps, my friend. Let¡¯s have that conversation in private. On the way I''d like to say that you''re a particularly hard person to get a hold of. I''ve been looking for you for two days, luckily somebody mentioned that you spent much of your leisure time with the Tanner brothers.¡±


    Dorian knitted his brow at the comment. ¡°And that helped you find me?¡±


    Malik nodded sagely. ¡°Deductive reasoning, if you usually ate with them, you''d have to eat with the youngest at his dining hall.¡±


    ¡°I could make an argument that that''s actually abduction, but I doubt that''s why you brought it up.¡± Dorian said, not sure why he was thinking off the cuff like that.


    Malik''s eyebrows shot up as he tilted his head to Dorian, a toothy grin on his face. ¡°I don''t know what you''re talking about, but I''m curious to know.¡± Malik turned as he spoke, and Dorian followed to a staircase. Malik took the stairs two at a time, but not with haste, just at a measured lengthy stride. Dorian copied him quickly, as taking each step was slowing Dorian down enough that he was falling behind. Malik, somehow, kept talking as they ascended the next four flights.


    ¡°But save that lesson for another time. I managed, despite not having you around, to get your tunics. Each of them bleached appropriately. What color do you intend to dye them?¡±


    ¡°Haven''t decided,¡± Dorian said between breathes. It was still early, and he was grateful for the chance to stretch his lungs a bit.


    ¡°Well, when you''ve made that decision, I can get a hold of some rather rare dyes.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess, you know a guy?¡± Dorian asked.


    Malik chuckled, ¡°Indeed.¡± He came to a stop in front of Dorian, and when Dorian caught up, he headed down the hall.


    ¡°Which floor are we on? I figured you''d be on the sixteenth like the rest of us.


    Malik shook his head, ¡°I''m on the seventeenth, I was too old to be placed with your class but was informed that I came to the monastery malnourished. I''ve been with the underclassmen for anything physical since I arrived.¡±


    Dorian grunted an acknowledgment to the statement, but didn''t comment. He felt empathetic for Malik''s trials, but like everyone else he didn''t make much of a deal out of anything that happened prior to entering the monastery. Such comments were generally considered taboo, and he didn''t want to out his new friend by speaking of such things.


    After a few more passages, in a far corner of the hall, Malik opened the door to his chamber. He gestured while holding the door open, ¡°after you. Make yourself at home.¡±


    Dorian thanked him and walked inside, not feeling completely comfortable being in Malik''s quarters, but still doing his best to express being grateful. The scale of the room was more than double what he had expected, and more than three times the size of Jack''s sizable rooms. There were stacked boxes arranged in one corner, one of which had his name haphazardly scrawled across the front. On top of the box was a small black book.


    Seeing that Dorian had spotted it, Malik spoke. ¡°That is for you also.¡± Malik walked over, picked up the book and tossed it to Dorian.


    Puzzled, Dorian looked at Malik, fixing him with a questioning gaze.


    ¡°It doesn''t have a title, and you don''t get to keep it. It''s one of the gems I''ve found throughout my time here, one that has saved my ass a time or two.¡±


    Now interested, Dorian began succumbing to a strange need to acquire forbidden knowledge. If the journal he had found was any indication, he was starting to develop a habit. He felt like there was an entirely different truth to the world than the one presented by the Monastery, and even in his private moments he found himself questioning foundational principles that technically bordered blasphemy. This was just another circumstance in which he could learn something he shouldn''t, and that made him slightly giddy.


    ¡°Why share this with me?¡± Dorian asked after a long moment.


    Malik sighed heavily then said, ¡°I actually have two reasons.¡±


    Dorian waited, and when there was no reply he said, ¡°go on.¡±


    With a plaintive look, followed by a smile, Malik said, ¡°normally that would be it. Most have to pay to get information like that out of me, but I like you, Dorian. Something about your nature. There is no cruelty in you, is there?¡±


    The bold assertion from Malik about his characteristics was rather forthright for someone with Malik''s shifty tendencies. Dorian simply assumed the young man was slippery, but not grimy. Perhaps, this was Malik doing what he could to stack the deck.


    ¡°The first reason is because I''m betting on you. The second reason is because someone paid me to show you whatever I had shown Danny.¡±


    At the mention of Danny, Dorian''s stomach soured. Knowing that this day could change a lot for him was a sobering thought, and all he had to do was beat Danny in the semifinals to do so. It made him nervous, afraid, but also excited. Some part of him hungered to be there again, to bask in the power of his strikes, to feel the heightened senses and intensity of emotion. To gamble at the chance for victory was a rush unlike anything he knew, and he craved to revel in that feeling again.


    ¡°Then who is the somebody I should be thanking?¡± Dorian asked.


    Malik shook his head but smiled all the same. ¡°I like you Dorian, but once I take coin my lips are sealed. I have a feeling you''ll figure it out after this is all done with. Please, have a seat. I have some other... errands to take care of. You have roughly an hour before I''m back.¡± Dorian moved to speak, but Malik cut him off before he could get a word out. ¡°I highly recommend you go to the bookmarked page and start reading there. That''s what Danny read, and I''m sure he''ll be using it to his advantage today. Take the bookmark too, it¡¯s a gift from your patron.¡± Malik nodded his head and began leaving the room. As he took the door handle, he paused. ¡°I assume anything we say here will be kept in confidence, yes?¡±


    Dorian nodded.


    ¡°He is going to use every edge and every advantage today, Dorian. I don''t have any details, but I know it like I know a bargain.¡±


    ¡°Should I tell someone about it? I''m sure Brother Michael wouldn''t be pleased to find out that Danny is breaking or bending the rules.¡±


    Malik shook his head giving a sad smile. ¡°No, please don''t. Most of his information came from me.¡± He smiled a brilliant white smile. ¡°Let him have his advantages, Dorian. Fight him despite them, and win. For both our purses, and for yourself, get yourself a win. As a bonus, I''ll introduce you to your patron.¡±


    Dorian looked down for a moment to think on the statement. When he looked back up, Malik was gone. Dorian opened the book at the bookmark and began to read it.


    ¡°In conclusion, a Shade or Gia based restriction field has one flaw, which may or may not be pertinent. One will always cancel the external application, manifestation, or execution of the inverse wherever it touches. However, the containment or restriction field cannot affect the use of internal primal based power. The use of one''s abilities, such as fortitude, can be canceled, but it is much harder to do so. Not only would one have to have control of a disproportionate amount of power, but also the subject being restricted could easily breach the control by summoning enough Gia, or Shade, to encase one''s body completely. There are several reasons why we should take this into consideration. We are responsible for the safety and education of those vessels that attend the Monastery, as such it would be outright foolhardy to provide the tools required to break such safety measures. Furthermore, as we have seen from our students in the past, if a child has the opportunity and means of breaking the rules, they will. It is for this reason that I recommend an extreme measure towards how we educate the vessels of the future. The final year before ascent should be the only year in which any are allowed to be trained in the use of Gia and Shade. At that stage in their education and physical maturation, their potential no longer runs such grave risk of being stunted.¡±


    Dorian stared long and hard at the text, the details running through his mind. If what this was saying was true, there was more than just one side to each of their primal abilities. Additionally, if you were clever, you could run a thin line of Gia throughout your body, preventing the effect of any restriction to the internal. If Jack could summon Gia like Dorian could, he could reinforce his strength despite being in a place where no one else could. Dorian''s abilities didn''t have much practical application in that light, and he idly grew bitter that his abilities were what they were. He had seen older initiates Primed in Telekinesis with strange markings at their wrists and elbows, and something clicked in Dorian¡¯s mind. If he were Primed in telekinesis, he could use it in conjunction to his own movement, enhancing every strike. Danny would likely use this to compensate for his overall lean build, thus giving him an edge to every bout. The bastard.


    This news was a hard pill for Dorian to swallow. He had wagered on himself again, and despite his odds being worse than they were, it was still money wasted if he lost. Dorian pocketed the bookmark, grabbed the box labeled with his name and headed to Jack''s room to get ready. On the way out, Dorian placed the book under Malik''s pillow, hoping the shifty young man could read his thoughts. He snickered out loud as he thought, but he can read your thoughts, numb skull.


    After making it to Jack''s rooms, the other guys were deep into their game of cards. The sizable decks were down to half their opening size, each player positioning themselves for a win. So enveloped were they in their game that they hadn''t even noticed Dorian walking through the open door. He put his box of fresh tunics down and peered over. It seemed as though they were in a stalemate of sorts, each of them too conservative to go all out at one another for fear the other might take advantage.


    Dorian surveyed the board. ¡°Any chance I can get in on the next round?¡±


    Startled, Benny turned and said, ¡°if you want to lose like these poor saps.¡±


    Ken put an eyebrow up, it was his turn. ¡°Oh really?¡±


    Benny nodded. ¡°I''ll have this all wrapped up in a turn or two.¡± Benny''s words were spoken with an air of confidence that he seldom showed outside of their friend group. It made Dorian smile to see the guy come out of his shell a bit, and the same could be said about Ken.


    Ken, meanwhile, was moving cards around on his board. Before placing a card down on the table he asked, ¡°are you sure about that?¡± He played the card and the table groaned. Moving some other cards around on the table he played his second card.


    ¡°Damn it, Ken!¡± Jack finally said. He threw his hand down and the table erupted in conversation over the ¡°what ifs¡± and the ¡°I was gonna''s.¡±


    Dorian moved his box over to the side of the room and settled into his spot. Before he forgot, he opened the note that was left for him. It was a list of sorts, and he read it quickly. There wasn''t a message, just a list of rules. He quickly put it away and decided to pay heed to his expectant friends.


    Dorian had a few hours to kill before his match and wanted to relax a bit before business grew serious. He was content there, and it helped to keep his head on straight, otherwise he would have been a mess of nerves. Even if he was just wasting time, he felt his time wasn''t honestly wasted. The company he kept made it all worth it, and for a little while he forgot about all the woes of social hierarchy, body image, and madmen. For a time, he was a teenager playing games with friends he planned on keeping for life, and a good life it was bound to be.


    Dorian had pushed all of his worry to the back of his mind for the next two matches, barely leaving himself an hour to get ready for the big event. He dressed quickly, putting on his bleach white undershirt, shorts, and tunic over the other two. He looped the wooden toggles through their ends leaving the top three undone. He was going to get sweaty, and ruining his brand-new clothes was the last thing he wanted to do. His friends were happy to support him as they all headed down to the gymnasium. They were successful in their support until Ken pointed out that he looked like a holy man in his all-white garb. The revelation made him self-conscious, but he knew it was too late to turn back now. Damning his pride, his doubt, and his worries, he headed into the gymnasium with a quarter of an hour to spare.


    To his surprise, their entire class showed up, and more besides. The grandstand was close to full for their little tournament, which told Dorian one of two things. Either everybody had been looking forward to this as much as Dorian had, or there simply wasn''t much to do during leisure hours and this was their best option for entertainment. Dorian supposed it didn''t matter, because they were there regardless of their reasoning. Chump or champ, today most of his peers would see him fight. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his doubt wiggled and a thought emerged. They came here to see the chump, that¡¯s you. You¡¯re the chump.


    Brother Michael approached him then and gestured to Jack. ¡°Why don''t you have Jack help you warm up, we''re going to get started soon. Your match will be the second bout today, so you''ve got some time to warm up. Head over to the side of the seats, we¡¯re waiting on a few more. I''ve fixed that damaged staff up for you, as best as I could anyways. It''s over there.¡± He pointed to the area he had mentioned, and Dorian nodded. Jack followed, and they found a spot towards the edge so they could keep an eye on the dueling ring. Before heading there, Dorian retrieved his lucky staff, and like last time he was overwhelmed with a sense of rightness.


    Dorian took a moment to examine it. He swore it hummed or vibrated at his touch. The grooves that had been dirty and stained, filled with dirt and the Gods knew what else, had been cleaned out. The wood had been lacquered, and polished. It was a work of art.


    ¡°So, think you¡¯ll take Atticus outright? You¡¯ve got at least half a foot on him,¡± Jack said as he leaned on Dorian¡¯s back, helping him deepen his hurdler¡¯s stretch.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He¡¯s a lot faster than me,¡± Dorian replied, his tone tinged with concern.


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t do that,¡± Jack said, his voice sharp with seriousness.


    ¡°Do what?¡± Dorian asked, glancing over his shoulder.


    ¡°Build up your opponent. Justify their strengths. You¡¯re already setting yourself up to lose.¡±


    Dorian turned fully to face him, his expression shifting to one of aggressive honesty. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°You know exactly what it means,¡± Jack shot back, his tone firm. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you do this a hundred times. You talk yourself into thinking you¡¯re at a disadvantage, and then you justify it by underperforming. It¡¯s a self-fulfilling prophecy, and I¡¯m sick of watching you do it.¡±


    Dorian stared at his friend for a moment, taking in the uncharacteristic seriousness. Normally, hearing Jack use a few three-syllable words meant he was either trying to prove he wasn¡¯t as much of a brute as people assumed, or he was dead serious. Dorian figured this time it was the latter.


    ¡°Where was this talk an hour ago?¡± Dorian asked, his tone rueful as he thought back to their last card game.


    Jack smirked. ¡°You were my opponent an hour ago.¡±


    Dorian let out a chuckle, joining Jack in the shared laugh.


    ¡°Really, Dorian,¡± Jack said, his tone softening but staying sincere. ¡°Go out there and give it everything. Stop holding yourself back. You talk yourself down too much. Be bold, and you¡¯ll win. I know you will.¡± Jack stood, crossing his arms as a confident grin spread across his face. ¡°Besides, if the second-strongest in class wins, what will everyone think of the strongest guy who never competed?¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Dorian said, shaking his head but smiling. ¡°You¡¯re right. No excuses. I won¡¯t just try, I¡¯ll come back a winner.¡± He nodded to himself, attempting to project the confidence Jack clearly believed in, even though uncertainty still simmered beneath the surface.


    Dorian stood and began making a few standing stretches when he spotted Danny swagger in, entourage in tow. Among them were several in the class that had already lost, and one that hadn''t.


    ¡°When did Atticus start hanging out with Danny?¡± Dorian asked Jack.


    Jack shook his head, looking grim. ¡°I don''t know.¡±


    From the center of the room, and despite most the gymnasium talking among themselves, Dorian could hear, quite clearly, as Brother Michael boomed, ¡°It looks as though all of our contestants are here.¡± The crowd quieted quickly and the Brother continued. ¡°I''d say I was surprised at the turnout but let''s be honest. This is the best damn sport in the Valley.¡± A few chuckles and whoops went up at that but shushed down shortly after. ¡°Our lineup will be posted to the adjacent wall momentarily. Since this is the conclusion of the morning class tournament, not everybody will be competing today. The other classes have all finished their tournaments and are already beginning training this upcoming week. Today will decide who joins them.¡±


    As Brother Michael spoke, Dorian spotted a few who entered with Danny pointing over at himself. They said something and a few others glanced over, laughing. Dorian''s face went beat red, and he shook slightly as he held their gaze. They sat, all but Danny and Atticus. They began warming up together right in front of the crowd.


    ¡°Our first match of the night will be between Kintra Bale and Danny Prios.¡±


    The surname of his ill begotten roomy was a bit of a surprise to Dorian. He thought Danny was a Smith, Dorian had overheard him mention that he received a stipend from the Smiths, it would only make sense that he was one of them. Prios usually meant that they were born at the Monastery, but Dorian knew he came there when he was six or seven. It left him a bit confused, but he quickly concluded he was paying attention to the wrong thing. It wasn¡¯t the time for it, he could puzzle it out after he had won. What he needed to do was pay attention to how Danny fought, as Dorian was busy with his own fights last time. This was his one chance to gain any kind of knowledge about Danny''s skills or technique.


    Finishing their warmups, Danny met Kintra in the center of the ring. Brother Michael began giving his heavily rehearsed speech about sportsmanship, which generally ran about a minute. After he had finished, the glazed eyes of the crowd grew intense. He asked each competitor if they were ready, raised a hand and dropped it with a flourish.


    Kintra wasted no time as she unleashed a flurry of attacks at Danny. Danny, for his part, seemed to have mastered the art of jerky movements. Every time a blow nearly struck, he seemed to jolt over, blocking blow after blow. His stance was what one would expect, unpracticed, but despite this he had yet to be hit. His movements almost made him look drunk, reminding Dorian of a fighting style he had read about once.


    Their battle staves locked for a moment, and to Dorian''s surprise, Danny was able to outmatch Kintra in absolute strength. He shoved with a grunt to create distance, then Danny pulled back and thrust out hard. It connected, and when it did, Kintra doubled over as the staff had stuck her at her center. She wheezed for a moment then buckled. Brother Michael gestured for a pause, then asked Kintra a few quiet questions. She nodded a few times and stood, the crowd clapped before the Brother asked them to take their places. ¡°Three points to Prios, line up!¡± He barked, but Danny was already there. He shot a vicious grin at Dorian, but Dorian didn''t wither away, instead he glared with all the intensity he could muster. He knew Danny was using his telekinetic abilities to cheat, there just wasn''t any way to prove it.


    Brother Michael dropped his hand again to commence the fight and like before Kintra was back on the offensive. Her breathing was a bit ragged, but it seemed as though she had found a higher level of intensity. She lashed out, swinging with grace balanced with brutality. The clacks as the staves met were loud and the sound echoed through the gymnasium.


    Everything seemed normal for a time, the bout closely matched. Kintra landed a swipe, then a glancing blow to even the score. As her glancing strike hit Danny, instead of blocking it he arched out with a wide swing, lowering his grip on the staff enough to add extra power to it. The sound it made as it connected with Kintra''s skull was loud enough to hush the crowd. A piece of Danny''s staff had broken off, and Kintra dropped to the ground like a sack of grain. There wasn''t any blood, but Brother Michael called for medics immediately.


    Danny stood in the ring but didn''t look like the cocky asshole Dorian knew him to be. Instead, Danny looked upset about something. After a moment he knelt down holding his stomach. The medics were in the ring, one shaking his head and pointed to something off to the side of the ring. One of them headed over to the spot and retrieved a stretcher that was promptly laid out. They gingerly moved the hurt Vessel on to the stretcher and headed out. As they did so, Brother Michael called an end to the match.


    ¡°This is a risk every person takes in the ring. This is not a forgiving sport, and those not cautious enough can get hurt. I''d like to remind all of those competing today that this can get dangerous, so watch yourselves. I''d like to add that deliberately harming somebody is means for immediate exile.¡± Brother Michael looked over to Danny, giving a blank stare. He mumbled something to the Brother, and left the ring to wait with his friends for the next match.


    Dorian was already shaking with anticipation of his match. It was nerve wracking but also exhilarating in the extreme. He didn''t feel ready in his head, but his body was wound tight like a spring coil ready to release its bound energy. Dorian was as ready as he was going to be.


    He saw Brother Michael''s mouth moving but nothing registered. A slap on the back from Jack, and he made his way to the ring, staff in hand. Before entering, Atticus had dropped his tunic at the edge of the ring, his eyes never leaving Dorian''s. Not sure what compelled him to mimic the other Vessel, Dorian removed his tunic while matching Atticus''s glare. His new undershirt revealed more of the scars that ran down from his shoulder and across his chest, and he secretly hoped it made him look dangerous despite his round shape.


    Dorian had always had a fear of being judged for his shape, removing his tunic in public was akin to living a nightmare for him, but it also felt liberating for the same reasons. Atticus was stripping down to intimidate Dorian, and it worked to an extent. Dorian could admit that he was scared, that he was intimidated, that he felt nauseous for fear of humiliation. Despite his doubts he headed for the middle of the ring where his opponent stood waiting. Quenching his fears in the fires of the moment, Dorian raised his staff to the ready position, hands shaking, heart thumping so loud he couldn''t hear the crowd. The Brother''s hand came up and held there for what felt like an eternity. The moment had come, the time for fretting had ended, now it was time to be what he was meant to be, no matter what it meant.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Brother Michael''s hand dropped, and everything blurred with exception to Atticus. He had no thoughts for the crowd, his friends, or his educators. There was only himself and the one standing in his way. He struck out, and the match began in earnest.


    Clack, clack, the staves sounded as they met. Dorian took the initiative and lashed out, but Atticus had a defense worthy of praise. Thrusts were dodged, strikes were parried, and no matter what Dorian did, he couldn''t seem to get past the young man''s guard. Atticus had squatted down, limiting the area Dorian could attack, meanwhile making it easier to defend against Dorian''s onslaught of blows.


    Frustrated, Dorian pointedly stood from his stance and scowled at Atticus. Atticus tilted his head up and said, ¡°pretty fast for a fat kid, too bad you''re too stupid to do anything with it!¡±


    The insult had broken Dorian''s trance for a moment, just long enough to hear the crowd laughing. Brother Michael said, ¡°First warni-¡± but Dorian cut in. ¡°Stupid is the one that walks into the ring with me!¡±


    With a snarl, Dorian released a series of low thrusts at his opponent¡¯s feet, forcing Atticus to drop back until he was at the edge of the circle. Dorian''s grip was slightly one sided, and he used the short end to swipe out at Atticus''s side. Expecting the block, Dorian rebounded from it, using the momentum of the blocked strike to assist in his pivot. As Dorian twisted, he used the long end of the staff to strike at Atticus''s center, scoring himself a hit and pushing Atticus out of the ring.


    ¡°Three points to Hook, additional three points for Weaver turtling before a ring-out. Hook six, Weaver zero. Vessels, to the center!¡± Brother Michael barked.


    Atticus, to the bemusement of the crowd, had fallen flat on his back. As a gesture of good sportsmanship, Dorian stalled and offered a hand to Atticus. Atticus looked at his hand and spit at Dorian''s feet. Dorian glared and looked at Brother Micheal just in time to see the man''s expression sour. If there was one thing Brother Michael didn''t care for, it was poor conduct of his Vessels, particularly during a competition. The Brother was inhaling to shout something as Dorian turned his head back to his opponent. He did so just in time to see Atticus''s staff sweep through the air with a whoosh before connecting with Dorian''s outstretched hand.


    Pain lanced through his arm and down his fingertips, he wanted to scream but it hurt too much to put any focus elsewhere. He dropped to his knees, clutching his arm and fingers. He heard Atticus say, ¡°not so smart now, are you, you fat fuck?¡± He spat the words at Dorian and laughed.


    ¡°Weaver!¡± Came Brother Michael''s voice. ¡°You worthless wretch! That''s an immediate disqualification!¡± Dorian would have laughed, but he was too busy gasping for air. He heard scuffling behind him, and despite the tears swelling in his eyes, Dorian could see Brother Michael picking up Atticus by his shirt. A sister, one of the healers, moved to intercede but Brother Michael was having none of it. ¡°In all my years I have never seen such a despicable display.¡± He growled.


    ¡°Brother Michael, I was told to-¡±


    ¡°Told to what? Be the kind of bastard that spends the rest of his short life in The Rock?!¡±


    ¡°No, please, Brother, I didn''t-¡±


    ¡°Save your excuses, you disgrace this sport, these people, and the Gods. You disgust me.¡± The Brother shaped stone around Atticus, and the young man looked frantic.


    Looking into the crowd he said, ¡°you son of-.¡±


    That was the last anyone heard before Atticus was sucked under by the writhing stone. It had been a long time since Dorian had been reminded of the swift and brutal judgement from the Monastery. Dorian had never seen a Shaper do anything like that before, for a moment Dorian even forgot his hand. Brother Michael stood in concentration for a long while, then spoke. ¡°Atticus will be retrieved from the Rock in three days. Perhaps his punishment will teach him, and the rest of you, the value of conducting yourself with the standards we set here at the Monastery. Master Weaver forfeits by default, Master Hook, you''re off to the semifinals.¡±


    Dorian didn''t hear what happened after that, he was dragged to the side and inspected by several healers before Brother Michael came over. During their inspection, Dorian wouldn''t let them see his arm, for he feared what he would see. When the Brother came over he put a hand on Dorian''s shoulder and said, ¡°it''s alright son, let them have a see.¡±


    Timidly, Dorian stopped hiding his arm but looked away, still afraid of what he would witness. The expression on Brother Michael''s face was one of disgust. After a long moment, to his horror, Dorian looked at his arm.


    It bent at an odd angle, the forearm looking, for the world, like it was made of rubber. Two of his fingers were bent in directions they shouldn''t be able to. Dorian had to swallow his gorge lest he lose his breakfast. The faint hissing noise from the observing crowd didn''t help either.


    ¡°Unfortunately, Dorian, according to the rules you only have two options. In the philosophy of this sport, the idea is that this synthesizes a duel, you are not allowed any healing by a Vessel. We can set the bones, and give you a quick splint, but nothing beyond that. Your other option is to concede. I''m sorry, I wish there was another way.¡± Though his tone was somber, Brother Michael''s face was outraged.


    Dorian didn''t even think before he said, ¡°I will not concede.¡± His eyes watered as he held Brother Michael''s glare. It wasn''t intelligence that spoke for Dorian then, it was his brashness and his pride. He didn''t know for sure, as in, he had no proof, but he knew down to the Gia in his soul that what Atticus did was on behalf of Danny. Dorian knew it, and he simply wouldn''t give Danny the satisfaction. He had second thoughts as the popping noises started, and even more when he had to look away. He mentally swore as he prepared himself for what was to come. Blackened damn, shit stone salad, Kressor''s broken sphincter. He scanned the crowd, looking for his friends, anything to focus on as they set his bones to right.


    The pain was agonizing, and despite his best attempts, the only person he spotted in the crowd was Danny. ¡°You hear that-¡± he was cut off as the healers began to straighten his fingers. ¡°I will not concede!¡± Dorian bellowed at Danny, but everyone else in the gymnasium seemed to take it as an announcement. To his surprise, the crowd cheered, and suddenly the pressure of his mending wasn''t so painful.


    After getting patched up and spending a few minutes just trying to catch his breath, Dorian finally spotted his friends. They were huddled together a few rows up, with plenty of empty space around them. As he moved through the crowd, he could feel the weight of countless eyes on him, but he kept his focus locked on his friends, pushing forward until he reached his seat.


    ¡°Damn, Dorian, I didn''t know you were so skilled.¡± Commented Benny, a look of awe on his face.


    Dorian waved the comment away, ¡°apparently not skilled enough to keep myself from getting hurt.¡±


    ¡°Bah, that''s goat scat my friend. We all saw it, what a spiteful move. He knew he was outmatched, taking you out in the process was... dishonorable.¡± Said Jack as he wore a grim expression.


    ¡°How bad is it? I couldn''t make it out from here.¡± Voiced Ken as he twiddled his thumbs.


    Putting on a half-smile, Dorian said, ¡°It hurts, but I think it was more shocking than anything.¡±


    Benny and Jack nodded at that, but Ken sat looking pensive. Dorian took a seat next to Ken and watched the next bout making idle conversation as they did. The match wasn''t a bad one, but he wondered if the contestant''s maneuvers were more fluid in their heads, which led him to thinking the same thing about himself. Despite what I see myself doing in my head, what if I''m just as jerky in my movements? What if I''m just the fat kid that''s been lucky thus far?


    He shook his head, trying to clear it of such thoughts. He was fretting, and the pulsing pain that came from his right arm was slowly stealing more of his concentration. No matter what he was focusing on, the painful pulses coming from his bandaged splints became a serious hindrance to his thoughts. He kept trying to focus elsewhere, but no matter what it was it couldn''t hold his attention long before his mind would return to the throbbing sensation. He held his arm prone, but the pain was slowly eating away at his patience.


    A tap on his shoulder caught him off guard. With a start, he turned to see Malik smiling broadly. ¡°A word, Dorian?¡± Dorian nodded and got up, telling his friends he''d be back before his bout. He followed Malik over to the other side of the grandstand, noting a surprising absence of people surrounding the people Malik was heading towards. He wondered why there wasn''t anyone surrounding the group. Perhaps they all had that spicy dish last night, and the rest of the crowd couldn''t stand it? He would have chuckled to himself, but these were all people that held social sway. These were the people knew people. People that could find things like restricted tomes, offhand materials, or placing bets, buying intoxicants or even study crystals. The last of those were only rumored to exist, but if anyone in the Monastery could get a hold of such a thing they would be here.


    ¡°Have a seat, Dorian. I''d like to introduce you to a few friends of mine.¡± Malik gestured for him to have a seat next to a robed figure. He sat, noting that the robe was entirely too big. The loose folds and baggy appearance left Dorian a bit curious, but he let it go. He had to hold his right arm out straight, he could bend it but the shift in position had caused the pain to spike every time he did so. Malik sat to his left, pointing to several people and introducing them. Dorian greeted them in kind, doing his best to smile and put on the pleasantries. When he moved to introduce himself to the one, he sat next too, and Malik spoke.


    ¡°That one doesn''t speak, don''t worry though. Reliable like the sun rising.¡± He twitched a shoulder, implying something, but Dorian had no clue what. Gesturing to an older Vessel, Malik continued his introductions.


    ¡°This is Giovanni, but he prefers Vinny. He''s the primary reason I''ve brought you over.¡± Malik said, nodding his head to Vinny.


    Vinny put his hand out for Dorian to shake, a smile on his face. ¡°It''s a pleasure to meet you, Dorian.¡±


    He was caught off guard as Dorian put his left out. ¡°Sorry, the right hand is having a bit of a time today.¡± Vinny laughed and switched hands. They shook, and Vinny got straight to business.


    ¡°Seeing as there are some peculiarities afoot, I''d like to talk to you about your wager.¡± His thick eyebrows rose as he spoke, which was hard to notice past his hawk-like nose and smooth voice.


    ¡°And what exactly would you like to talk about?¡± Dorian asked, somewhat confused.


    ¡°Well, since your injury, the odds have greatly been pushed in Danny''s favor. There will only be one more match after the semi-finals.¡±


    Dorian was unsure about the comment, and it must have shown on his face because Vinny immediately continued to explain. ¡°The top three spots are those who will enter the Grand Tournament, whomever wins their match in the semifinals is guaranteed a spot, the losers from the semifinals will be the final bout of the day as only the top three will move on.¡±


    Realization dawned on Dorian then, and he nodded at Vinny. ¡°That makes sense, considering the risk to injury.¡±


    Vinny nodded in turn, ¡°speaking of injuries, that''s also why you''re here. Your odds have shifted enough that, well, we''d like to offer you the chance to withdraw.¡±


    Dorian mouthed the word ¡°withdraw¡± as his brow lowered. ¡°What are the odds then?¡±


    Vinny scowled, his chin jutting forward. ¡°Between the injury, and how well Danny performed in the first round...¡± Dorian rolled his hand, wanting the man to spit it out already. ¡°Fifteen to one against you.¡±


    Dorian''s eyes went wide as he did some mental math. He had won his first bout, doubling the stick of Vega tokens he had put down initially. If he backed out, he''d have enough coin to avoid working again until his Final Judgment, money wasn''t required at the Monastery but it made things significantly easier. If he wanted rare books, clothes, Kressor''s own, he could pay somebody to write his final essay for him with that kind of coin.


    Dorian asked, ¡°could I have just a second to discuss something with Malik?¡±


    Vinny nodded and backed away, so Dorian began speaking with Malik in hushed tones. ¡°What could I do with that kind of coin?¡±


    Malik, initially looking unhappy, brightened considerably. ¡°What would you like?¡±


    ¡°I don''t know.¡± Dorian whispered, putting his hand out in an open-handed gesture. ¡°What I''m asking is would having that much coin do me any good? I''ve made enough now that, if I parcel it out correctly, I likely wouldn''t have to do anything but prepare for Ascension. Would having that much benefit me?¡±


    Malik gave him a knowing look and nodded slowly. ¡°Oh yes, there are things that I could find you that would provide an undeniable benefit, things that are valued in hundreds of Vega.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Dorian said quickly. ¡°Fifteen to one you said, Vinny?¡±


    Vinny nodded once, and Dorian replied, ¡°I''ll keep my wager. If I lose, I lose. If I win though,¡± a smile broadened across Malik''s face, and Dorian mirrored it as he looked to Vinny.


    ¡°Quite a win it would be, indeed.¡± Malik''s expression was predatory as he said it, glaring over at Vinny. Perhaps there is a history there that I don''t understand, Dorian thought as he watched the two. Vinny moved away after telling Dorian that he was, ¡°looking forward to the show, doubly for the outcome.¡±


    ¡°What was that all about?¡± Dorian whispered to Malik.


    ¡°It''s a very large wager you''ve placed relative to the odds. Even at fifteen to one odds, nobody feels safe putting that kind of money on the line. I''m sure he''s shaking in his boots right now.¡± A sly grin was on his face before he said, ¡°especially since I''ve wagered on your victory myself.¡±


    Dorian was surprised that Malik was keeping his bet, considering Dorian''s state. If Dorian had any guess, Malik was putting his ass on the line for him. Dorian decided that he would find a way to repay him, even if Malik was simply doing this for his own self gain.


    ¡°Don''t worry, Dorian, I''m no fool. Just show the same skill you showed against Ingrid, and you''ll walk away wealthy, as will I. If not, I have other prospects, and from the way you''ve made it sound you would be content with what you already have. So if you think about it, neither of us have serious consequences if you fail.¡±


    Just the concept of failure was something that Dorian didn''t want to consider, he''d get jittery and wound tight, something he couldn''t afford to do at this juncture. He needed to present a confident front or his mind would shatter under the strain of all the pressure. His future, Ascendance, was on the line. He wasn''t materialistic, and the money would be nice, but taking the Grand Tournament meant a guarantee over something he was sure he''d fail at. As much as he respected the cooks, the custodians, and the farmers, it didn''t mean he wanted to be one.


    ¡°I hope I can show the same skill as I had against Ingrid, but I doubt I''d enjoy it half as much.¡±


    ¡°Hmm? What do you mean by that?¡± Malik asked.


    Dorian, being slightly paranoid, looked around, realizing how distracted everyone was. Dorian could say whatever he wanted right there, and nobody but Malik''s trusted company would even be able to listen in. It was a clever way to have a conversation, and Dorian took note briefly before attempting to answer the question.


    ¡°Well, I don''t know. There was something there that I didn''t expect, it was like...¡± Dorian searched for the words but couldn''t find them. When he stammered Malik looked at him inquisitively. ¡°It''s hard to explain, at first she was all anger and so was I. There were words we shared before the match that had both of us hot blooded.¡±


    Malik nodded him to go on, so he did. ¡°Then, I don''t know. In the match, there was ferocity there that... I''m blabbering. I should probably go before my match starts.¡±


    Dorian moved to get up, but Malik put a hand on his shoulder and said, ¡°no, I really want to know. Speak plainly man, be the confident Dorian I saw a few days past, don''t digress into something you aren''t anymore, don''t cling to that.¡±


    Noting the serious look on Malik''s face, Dorian spoke before he could stop himself. ¡°She¡¯s a ferocious person. Anyone who spends even a moment with her can see that. During the bout, I felt something more, a sense of how our attitudes intertwined, like the perfect harmony in a piece of music. Even with the undercurrent of competition, there was something breathtaking in it, something raw and instinctive. It felt like a dance I¡¯d never been taught but somehow knew by heart.¡±


    To Dorian¡¯s surprise, Malik lit up, a gleam in his eyes that made Dorian slightly uneasy. ¡°How well do you know Ingrid?¡± Malik asked, his tone laced with curiosity.


    Dorian shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve known of her, but I always assumed she was¡­ petty.¡±


    He rubbed the back of his head, considering his own words before offering a small smile. ¡°Thinking back, maybe I was being presumptuous, but not without reason.¡±


    Malik raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh? Like what?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know¡ªthe times I was humiliated in front of her, or because of her,¡± Dorian said with a chuckle. ¡°But I think I¡¯m starting to see things differently. Underneath all the cliques and posturing, the person we are in private is often very different from the one we show to the world. In the match, I felt like I was meeting her for the first time. And she was¡­ remarkable.¡±


    As he spoke, his gaze had drifted toward the ongoing bout, but as he finished, he turned back to find Malik grinning¡ªobnoxiously so. Heat crept into Dorian¡¯s face. He had just prattled on like an idiot. For a brief moment, he felt the sting of embarrassment.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Malik said, chuckling, ¡°you should tell her that.¡±


    Dorian scoffed. ¡°And make a fool of myself? Come on, Malik, you¡¯re talking to Dorian the dingleberry. A compliment from me isn¡¯t exactly high praise for Ingrid the incredible.¡±


    The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Why did I just say that? A suspicion settled in his gut, and he narrowed his eyes at Malik. That was the second time now. Something was going on.


    Malik laughed, and for a brief moment, Dorian thought he heard a soft chuckle from behind him. Before he could turn to check, Malik spoke up.


    ¡°Have you ever considered that you might have been a poet in your last life?¡± He asked through his laughter.


    Dorian scowled, but Malik pressed on. ¡°Worry not, there¡¯s no social standing that passion can¡¯t supersede. Besides, you¡¯ve been the topic of conversation since this started.¡±


    That got Dorian¡¯s attention. ¡°Oh? And what exactly are they saying?¡±


    Malik smirked. ¡°Not much time before your match starts. You sure you want to sit here until then?¡±


    Dorian looked around and spotted his friends across the grandstand. He was tempted, curious really, but he wanted to spend his time with his friends before he went out. He looked to Malik and shook his head slightly.


    Malik nodded and smiled, ¡°I''ll have to tell you later, I''m having a little get together this evening. You remember how to get to my room?¡± Dorian nodded, and Malik continued. ¡°Head over just before lights out, we can either celebrate our winnings or mourn our losses. Preferably, the former, and you still have to meet your patron. Everyone here will be there.¡± He nodded once, and Dorian responded in turn before he took his leave. Dorian pondered on his statements as he left. Growing a tad suspicious, he wondered at Malik. How strong of a telepath is he?


    Dorian looked back for just a moment, and a surge of confidence stole over himself. Very strong, indeed.


    Despite how he felt about the conversation he had with Malik, he thought the distraction was a relief. His arm still throbbed, but it wasn''t the burden it was before, more of an irritation. Then again, he hadn¡¯t moved it in some time now. Despite this, it seemed his friends had picked up all the worry he had let go of. They all looked at him, stress written across their faces.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Dorian asked, feeling bad for having lost track of time.


    ¡°You''re up soon.¡± Benny said.


    ¡°How¡¯s the arm?¡± Ken asked, looking pale.


    ¡°It hurts,¡± replied Dorian, ¡°but I''ll live. Who wants to help me warm up? I need to get my blood pumping before I square off with Danny.¡±


    Benny moved to get up, but Jack beat him to it. ¡°I''ve got this, you two are lacking the mass to help our circular friend properly.¡± Jack said, his tone jovial and aristocratic.


    ¡°I take great offense to that,¡± Benny commented, adding the same aristocratic edge to his voice.


    ¡°He''s not wrong.¡± Ken said looking up to Dorian, sounding sincere. ¡°Get your win, Dorian, but remember, the Gods judge us by our temptations and if we yield to them.¡±


    ¡°What kind of scat was that?¡± Benny asked his brother.


    Jack chimed in, ¡°wisdom from the Path, Benny. You could read every once in a while.¡±


    Benny looked offended, but Jack spoke over him before he had a chance. ¡°And not about card games, or ways to cause quiet mischief.¡±


    Benny looked chagrined at the comment, but he shrugged it off. ¡°Dorian, give him what he deserves. If you lose, I''ll never forgive you. Broken hand or not.¡± He pointed at Dorian, and he smiled in turn.


    ¡°Okay Benny, but just for you.¡± Dorian left to warm up when he heard Benny say to his little brother, ¡°see? He''s got this. Don''t look so worried.¡±


    Jack and Dorian started their regular stretching routing, but did so at speed. Dorian had been out for a while, but he wasn''t so cold that he had to start from scratch. Jack assisted him in checking his mobility. As Dorian grabbed his staff with his bad arm, he felt the vibration again, but through his bones. He asked Jack to take it for a second, and he didn¡¯t notice a thing. Dorian took it up again and felt a warmth radiate out of his broken hand and arm. His splinted fingers unwieldy, Dorian had wrapped each of his fingers together, index to middle, pinky to ring. Now the fingers felt fine.  Dorian found he could cup his staff between his thumb and index finger with little pain, though it was relatively stiff. He couldn''t twist his wrist much, it made his forearm feel like it was on fire. He decided that his best bet was to reinforce his wrist, so Jack ran over to get some linewood paste from the healers. When he got back, he helped apply it, and it solidified quickly enough.


    They began testing by having Jack swing a staff downward at himself at varying strengths to gauge how much force he could handle. The strongest swings hurt like hell, but blocking them wasn''t completely debilitating. Considering how strong Jack was, he figured it would come pretty close to how hard Danny''s telekinetically enhanced blows would be. Jack wondered out loud why Dorian thought Danny could hit half so hard, and Dorian quietly explained what he had read.


    ¡°That doesn''t make sense, I can¡¯t access my extra strength right now. I''ve tried.¡±


    ¡°I can show you later, you have to be able to, you know.¡± Dorian flushed his eyesight with Gia for a brief moment.


    Jack squinted his eyes for a moment, then they shot open. ¡°Shh!¡± Dorian said before Jack started going on a tirade. ¡°I can explain everything later, but keep it down. I can''t point out that he''s cheating, it''s not my secret to tell.¡±


    ¡°I don''t give a Gwendos given fuck stick, he''s cheating!¡± Jack looked like he was about to storm right out and confront Danny, but Dorian held his friend back.


    ¡°Jack, I know, but the only way anyone can prove it is with the source that only I know of. Otherwise, everyone will just think you''re trying to help me, which is exactly what you''re doing. Jack, I''m not going to win this by default. Besides, it''s not about winning for me at this point.¡± He stared his friend in the eye, and to his own surprise they were eye level. Meeting gazes, Jack seemed to understand. He expressed this with a grunt.


    Dorian had taken to jogging in place, a behavior he''d seen others use to keep their blood pumping. It was working well enough, meanwhile Jack spoke tactics with him.


    ¡°He won¡¯t shell up like Atticus, he''ll come after you, likely on your weak side. Can you switch your stance to keep your right hand back?¡± Dorian nodded and began testing the stance. It was odd, like he knew exactly where to place his feet to feel comfortable. He tested a few experimental strikes, and though they weren''t as comfortable as they were with his dominant hand, he felt he could manage.


    Finally, after what felt like an age, he heard Brother Michael shout, ¡°Prios, Hook, to the center!¡±


    Dorian started heading over when Jack called out, ¡°if you lose to that Gwendian pup, I''ll never let you live it down! You hear me, Dorian?! Not in this life or the next!¡± Dorian grinned at the reference to the last time Jack and Danny had an honest confrontation, and it helped Dorian keep a clear head as Danny came up in stride with him.


    ¡°I''ve been wondering if the piggy is ready for the slaughter. Maybe after I''ve had my way with you, I''ll make up with Ingrid. I heard that piggy has a crush,¡± Danny gestured at all of Dorian, ending his statement the way one would talk to an infant.


    ¡°Would you just shut up already?¡± Dorian said as a statement more than a question. A few other Vessels had heard him and laughed at the comment. Danny''s face went a little red, and Dorian felt just a bit less stressed because of it.


    Dorian''s nerves began rushing upward from his gut as he entered the ring. As he walked towards the center they surged, and by the time he was in the ready stance it felt like a wave would take him right off his feet. The accumulation of so much stress, this entire last year of living with Danny, getting bullied and beaten, put down upon, and overall being treated like shit, had finally come to a head. His nerves, normally something that kept him down, came to the fore and they found purpose. Instead of fighting his nerves, like he normally would, he opened their metaphorical floodgates and found a sudden surge of rage. Those same nerves that had kept him from moving gave him new life the moment Brother Michael''s hand dropped.


    Dorian surged with the wrath of his own helplessness, putting every bit of his might into each step. He thrust forward, trying to take an early lead. He came on faster than Danny had expected, and Dorian thought it was a sure thing, until Danny''s staff jerked out of nowhere to parry the attack. Dorian struck out again, this time aiming low, but in a not so fluid movement, Danny swung down with one arm planting his staff to block. Then Danny was on him.


    Dorian moved, doing all he could to avoid Danny''s onslaught. He blocked one attack that came high, then a parry to counter a thrust. Danny came high again, his varying speeds throwing Dorian off. Dorian moved to block it, but unsure of how safe that was he also leaned back, just in case his block didn''t hold. As Dorian had his hips forward and back arched, faster than he could follow, Danny thrust forward with his staff, letting go of one hand to gain additional distance.


    Dorian gasped, Danny had hit him hard. ¡°A whole lot there to keep safe, huh tubby?¡± Danny muttered under his breath. Not only was the blow completely unexpected, but it came at the worst moment as Dorian was completely off guard. Dorian was sucking in his first lungful of air as Danny came back around to thrust out another one-handed strike. Unwilling to give Danny the satisfaction, Dorian moved. He spun through the strike, not even attempting a block, staff held in his left hand and cupped under his armpit. As Dorian twisted, he placed the elbow of his broken arm against the stave, giving the swing a surprising amount of additional power. The strike bashed Danny across the side of his head.


    That gave Dorian some distance as Danny retreated to get his bearings. Dorian knew he should press his advantage, but the need to take a moment to catch his own breath was more pressing.


    ¡°Prios, three, Hook, two.¡± Brother Michael called.


    Down, but not out, Dorian thought.


    He barely had time to reset before Danny was on him, swinging wide. Forced onto the defensive, Dorian backpedaled. Danny rode the momentum, pivoting¡ªjust like Dorian had against Atticus. But Dorian was wise to his own tricks. Before Danny could plant his feet, Dorian shot his staff between his legs.


    Danny turned, not expecting the obstruction, and tripped ass over elbows. He barely registered the fall before Dorian was on him.


    Anticipating an attack, Danny blindly threw up his staff¡ªand, to Dorian¡¯s misfortune, blocked at just the right angle. Instead of rebounding, Dorian hooked his thumb and index finger around the staff and used his full weight to press down. He wasn¡¯t going to score points for it, but if he could exhaust Danny, catching up would be much easier.


    They locked staves for a moment before Brother Michael¡¯s voice cut through.


    ¡°Vessels, to the center! This isn¡¯t a wrestling match. On your feet, Prios! Hook, get off of him!¡±


    Laughter rippled through the crowd. Dorian grinned sheepishly as he pushed to his feet, taking his position while Danny dusted himself off.


    ¡°Get that smirk off your face, fat ass,¡± Danny snapped, glaring.


    Dorian¡¯s grin widened, laced with condescension.


    Brother Michael¡¯s hand dropped. Danny let out a battle cry¡ªexcept to Dorian, it sounded like a yappy little Gwendian lapdog. He barked a laugh and sidestepped the wild swing that followed.


    The crowd roared. Whether they were laughing for the same reason or not didn¡¯t matter. Danny¡¯s face flushed deep red, and Dorian¡¯s laughter only grew.


    Danny seethed, his knuckles white around his staff. Dorian readied himself, but his eyes caught on Brother Michael¡ªwho had a hand clamped over his mouth, shoulders shaking.


    Oh fuck me, even the Brother is laughing.


    Danny exploded, moving with a burst of speed and still trying to get in Dorian¡¯s head.


    ¡°Fuck you, tubby! I won¡¯t lose today, but even if I do, you¡¯ll still be shit! You¡¯ll always be the fat, lazy loser! You¡¯re fucking pathetic!¡±


    The sneer in his voice barely registered beneath the low growl rising in Dorian¡¯s throat.


    Dorian didn''t know that he had left his stance, he hadn''t realized that Brother Michael was shouting something, and he didn''t even register that he had dropped his staff. He calmly walked up to Danny, catching the swipe at his side with both of his hands and wrenching the staff away from Danny''s grip. Disarmed, Danny tripped backwards looking alarmed. Dorian held his gaze for a long moment, then tossed the staff at the ground before Danny''s feet. The cold stare Dorian gave Danny was the culmination of every single withering glare Dorian had received in his memory. Perhaps, even a touch of the insanity that affected the Grand Elder was present. Whatever it was, the whole world went silent, and for a long moment Dorian stood tall over his opponent.


    Quiet, like a somber winter morning, Dorian turned his back on his opponent and walked away. Just like that, Dorian''s point had been made. He picked up his staff and took his guard. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a proud look from Brother Michael and the crowd seemed to hold their breath for the next moment.


    Danny brushed himself off and picked up his staff. He came to the center of the ring and took his stance. As Brother Michael''s hand dropped, Danny snarled and leaped forward. Dorian had been thinking the same thing, and their staves locked together.


    Generally speaking, you didn''t engage in this kind of action unless you thought you had the upper hand in raw strength. Dorian was growling as they met and quickly began pushing Danny back. To Dorian''s surprise, Danny started to push back. First in staggered jerks, for split seconds at a time he had the strength of any Brute, but then it started to stabilize. Dorian kept his feet anchored, but still Danny was coming down with vengeance. Absently, Dorian saw utter confusion on the faces of everyone watching.


    That''s when something that Jack said had echoed through his mind. ¡°I''ve got this, you two are lacking the mass to help our circular friend properly.¡± He knew what to do, despite the pain in his hand and arm, despite the heat of the moment and all the eyes of the gymnasium on him, despite his own doubts about himself, he had an answer.


    Dorian wrenched his staff to rest against his opponent''s at a vertical angle. Lowering his mass, Dorian squatted down, levering his staff down with him. As expected, Danny flew forward, Dorian standing as most of Danny''s lackluster weight rested against him, vaulted Danny several yards across the ring and out of bounds.


    Dorian watched Danny fly then turned his head and took position. All this even before hearing Brother Michael shout. ¡°To the center Prios! Next time Hunt gets five points, I''d recommend you stay in the ring!¡±


    Dorian just held his stance and kept his face forward. He even heard a bit of laughter from the grandstand for it. Danny, now outraged, came back to the center and lined up, muttering something insulting as he walked by. Brother Michael, for his part, was staring at Danny through slanted eyes.


    ¡°Begin!¡± Came the booming voice, and Danny reacted like a hurricane. Faster than Dorian could handle, he lashed out, three, then four times. Dorian caught most of them, but he had to read the tells from Danny''s body to block, so fast were the strikes. Between the pain throbbing in his arm at every block, and the way Danny''s telekinesis removed most of the tells from his body, Dorian didn''t stand a chance.  Danny had landed another solid thrust and two strikes. Dorian wasn''t thinking clearly, so he waited in his guard position for the Brother to announce total scores.


    ¡°Prios, seven, Hook, two.¡±


    Wait, that doesn''t make sense! Can the man do simple math? Dorian thought to himself but didn''t voice it. His arm was protesting more and more, so Dorian took a chance to glance at it. The stint had shattered, and some time through the exchange the linewood casing had fallen away. Dorian couldn''t stay on the defensive, he had to move. Now!


    Danny backed away, looking confused. His head twitched twice in the time it took for Dorian to take two leaping strides forward and vault himself into the air. Coiling his torso, he shifted his grip and thrust his staff forward once, twice, before slamming it down with everything he had. Without hesitation, he swept low as he jumped, forcing Danny to stumble back.


    Dorian reached the apex of his jump just as he brought his staff down. Danny was still recovering from his fumbled dodge. Time stretched thin, and for the briefest moment, an absurd thought surfaced.


    Wow! I''m really bad at jumping. I should probably work on that.


    It was gone in an instant. Every ounce of power, weight, and momentum was behind this strike. He was all in. But just as his staff came crashing down, Danny¡¯s own jerked violently into place, bracing to block.


    Dorian was already committed. He drove down with every bit of force he had.


    The moment of impact triggered a chain reaction that unfolded too fast for him to stop.


    The first thing to go was his arm. He had gambled everything, using his dominant side, and he felt it give under the force. Then came Danny¡¯s wrists. His hands crumpled inward, levering against his upper arms. Something must have registered in Danny¡¯s mind at that moment because he stopped resisting entirely. Dorian¡¯s strike plowed through, forcing him downward.


    Danny¡¯s body went limp before he even hit the floor. One of his arms, caught at an unnatural angle, gave out completely.


    Dorian barely managed to pull back, stumbling away as dread settled in his gut. The sound of Danny hitting the cork mats would haunt him for the rest of his life. The deep knocks, the pops, the sickening crunch of bones collapsing under stress echoed across the gymnasium.


    Nobody moved.


    Danny moaned, the sound thick with pain. Dorian knew. He had broken nearly every bone in the boy¡¯s body. Even as he dropped to his knees, clutching his arm, he kept his head. The pain radiated like wildfire, his limb warped in a way it shouldn¡¯t be, but he didn¡¯t falter. He knew the rules. He raised his staff high.


    The cost had been great. It would be a waste to back down now.


    Agony ripped through him, tearing from his forearm down to his fingertips. He clung to consciousness, anchoring himself to a single thought. A note, neatly folded and tucked into his pocket. He had read it this morning, scrawled in elegant yet flashy penmanship:


    A near-complete listing of all legal reasons for disqualification according to the rulebook of the last recorded grand tournament.


    One line burst forth in his mind, and he felt the persuasive touch of something. Whoever it was, they were pressing the thought of that one line, like a red hot poker, his mind could only think of that one line of text.


    24M-IC


    Under the scenario of a mutual injury, one that immediately disqualifies both contestants, the winner of the contest will be declared as such: The first contestant able and in possession of their staff.


    Dorian clenched his jaw. The pain was unbearable, but he lifted his staff higher.


    ¡°I do not concede!¡±


    His voice was hoarse, strained, but he shouted it again. His mind chided him, giving him the image of himself, arm clutched close to his body, his fat torso exposed, his one good arm up. I look like an idiot. He smirked through the pain, surprised that he didn¡¯t care. His body trembled, shaking from exhaustion, from agony, but he kept his staff raised. He would not yield.


    The shaking came in waves.


    And then the waves dragged him under.

 Chapter 26 - Marked by the Storm

    I am ever grateful for Moder. Without him, my mission would be lost. No other holds as much Kraken as I do, none dare. It is a burden, a power, a poison. A sin. And if confession has a place, it is here.


    To the ignorant, it must have seemed a whim, a mere renaming, but I never admitted the truth. Kraken cannot exist without its avatar. Bacchus. It is his gift, his curse, a taint that seeps into the already impure. To a fool, it is indistinguishable from any other power. To those who truly see, it is night bleeding into day.


    Had I known of the other beast before signing the contract, would I have still taken the pact? Bacchus claims all creatures from the Other can take any form. Shifting. Hiding. Deceiving. I have hunted the Inverse in his name, but I know now, I was chasing phantoms, shadows slipping through my fingers. I see it now. It did not flee. It did not vanish. It became something.


    The Garru. There is no other explanation. They were mindless once. Now, they are something else. Even now, I know it watches, shifting, waiting among them. A monster wearing mortal flesh.


    But despite my age, my wisdom, my contract, there are things I will never understand. The Void does not answer to reason, nor do the creatures spawned there.


    After washing his mouth out and apologizing profusely, Kurt felt like a new man. Quena, for her part, was all business that morning. Following through on his word, Kurt had decided to team up with his little brother''s once crush. The fact that she appeared the way she had, at just this time, couldn''t be a coincidence, but whether the fates were granting a curse or a blessing had yet to be decided. For now, he had to operate relative to his goals and balance it with the safety of his family. He had to get his father out of the line fire, and put an end to this pointless conflict. After that...


    Find me, Kurt.


    Kurt shook his head. Quena took notice as they stood outside their cave. Kurt put a hand up to stall the question before it started. ¡°It''s nothing.¡± Looking out at the sunrise, he noted the redness to the distant clouds, and how scenic it was. Kurt grabbed some salted and dried meat from his pack and offered it to Quena. She took it, thanking him before she started chewing.


    ¡°Well, since we have an all-powerful Priorius among us, what do you say we charge into the enemy camp and demand surrender?¡± Kurt said, all bravado.


    Quena raised a fist to her mouth to cover it, laughter bubbling out despite her chewing. ¡°Gods, no. Please don''t put this all on me.¡±


    Kurt looked inquisitive as he asked, ¡°Why not? Aren''t you blessed by the Gods? Just whip up a storm or burn them to cinders. I don''t really care which.¡± He flicked his hand out as though it was the most nonchalant comment ever made. ¡°Dorian could do some pretty wicked things, and he was just a pup. You''re, what, seventeen? Eighteen? You should be able to mop up this whole mess by noon.¡±


    ¡°Ha! If it worked like that, I wouldn''t be the second wave, and there wouldn''t be three more arriving the day after tomorrow. I''m here for reconnaissance, unless I can be certain of an outcome, I''m to avoid confrontation. I hope you understand that. I want to help, but I''m not willing to risk my freedom.¡± Her tone was serious as she ended her statement, her face looking grim.


    ¡°Well, why not? You mean to tell me you can''t just drop the earth from beneath them, or why not just throw boulders at them?¡± Kurt''s voice was laced with disbelief, he had seen what his little brother could do before, why was Quena holding back?


    ¡°I can''t tell you much, but we should probably get moving. Do you have a plan?¡± Quena looked at him, and Kurt was confused by the implied demand she carried in her voice.


    ¡°Of course I have a plan.¡± He didn''t.


    She tried to glare at him but found herself smiling. When she didn''t say anything, Kurt decided to continue as though he hadn''t found her in his cave. And it is my god''s damned cave, whether she can shape stone or not.


    ¡°Next step will be just as you mentioned, reconnaissance. First, we look for trails that have seen heavy traffic lately. We can''t walk along those trails, so we''ll need to move through heavy brush. Right now, we have to find two separate camps. I''m going to assume that we can''t be seen by either, because no matter the camp, they''ll shoot us down and ask questions later.¡± Quena thought about this for a moment and nodded her head. ¡°If we find the Kressian camp first, we verify, then leave in search of the Metan camp. If we find my father''s camp first, we gather them and we head back to our barricade.¡±


    ¡°You don''t think I can reshape that cave to support that many people, do you?¡± Quena asked, incredulity written on her face.


    That hadn''t even occurred to Kurt, so before answering honestly, he asked, ¡°can''t you?¡±


    Her mouth puckered slightly before she spoke. ¡°Like I said, it really doesn''t work like that. Stone Shaping isn''t my best field, I''m best at broad range empa-telepathic expression. I can still shape, but to make that cave into an entire system? Gods, three or four days, maybe?¡± She shrugged, then continued, ¡°Not to mention I''d be completely exhausted and in immediate need of all the salt you could find¡± she paused for a moment, realizing that Kurt didn''t understand. ¡°or I''d go catatonic, probably coma and death shortly after.¡± Quena seemed to take on an educative air but kept a grave undertone as she explained.


    Kurt let that sink in for a moment as he pointed to where they should start walking and proceeded to head in that direction. ¡°So, when Dorian beat that troll to a pulp, he should have, what, went into shock?¡±


    Quena looked stun for a moment, but recovered. She quickly asked, ¡°troll?¡± Then stifled a laugh.


    Sensing how ridiculous it sounded, he quickly added, ¡°I mean, it wasn''t really a troll, but troll is the closest I can get to describing it. Real nasty looking thing,¡± Kurt began growing animated as he saw that he had an audience for this story for the first time. ¡°It was all kinds of haggard and distorted. It had disproportionate limbs and was covered in spots of thick skin. The boils too, but the look of them was nothing compared to the smell.¡±


    Quena looked away, putting a hand up. ¡°Okay, I get it.¡±


    ¡°You don''t believe me, do you?¡± Kurt asked.


    ¡°I believe that you believe it.¡± She said, sounding sincere.


    Kurt glared for a moment before nearly walking into a sapling. Quena giggled, but Kurt just kept on. ¡°So why didn''t Dorian convulse and die after ripping the thing apart?¡± He subconsciously cursed himself, Gwendos'' goatly gonads, you get an audience and you don''t know how to stay on subject.


    ¡°Like many that end up at the Monastery, your brother was likely just a vessel. A true Priorius is Primed in every primal force, and will have a natural understanding of runes, casting, and manipulations of both Gia and Shade. All will experience memories, but never of their own lives. A Priorius will simply remember more as they age.¡± She tapered off towards the end, realizing she had likely confused Kurt more than answering his questions.


    ¡°Hmm, that''s strange. Dorian never just remembered, he''d get all spacey for a moment, then be fine again. He never mentioned having new memories that he understood.¡± Kurt looked pensive but made it to the tree line. ¡°Keep behind me, I promise not to hit you with any branches.¡± He smiled back at Quena that seemed rueful. ¡°But I make no promises about breaking wind.¡± Then he headed into the tree line.


    Quena laughed, to Kurt it sounded haughty, but still it held the bell like cadence Diana''s laugh carried. Something deep down was unnerved by it, but he stuffed it down. Still laughing, Quena said, ¡°that would be highly inappropriate.¡±


    Kurt looked back, confused at the contradiction between her statement and her behavior. He caught her eye for a second, and Kurt couldn''t help but notice something predatory there. He ignored it.


    ¡°We should be able to speak freely like this, for a few more miles¡± he ducked a low hanging pine before holding it up for Quena. ¡°After that, we''ll have to keep it down. I can show you a few simple hand gestures that the trappers use.¡±


    She seemed rather excited about this, so Kurt spent some time explaining a few gestures and what they meant. Once again, however, with his attention on his audience, he tripped. Before he landed, Quena moved in a blur, grabbing Kurt by the back of his belt and pulling him back. For the briefest moment, Kurt was dumbfounded. Not by her ability to move like that, but by her eyes. They were normally brown, but for a short time as they stood inches away from each other, Kurt was completely captivated by her glowing yellow eyes. Then by her high cheekbones, the light brown hair that lofted to either side of her elegant neck, and then her general silhouette from the beams of light that broke through the pines and cast her body in shadow.


    Realizing that he was gawking, he stepped back, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°My savior,¡± he said, then grunted a thanks before returning to the brush. Calm down boy, heel. Plenty of doe in the wood, you should leave that one alone.


    Kurt had chastised himself, but took a moment to ask himself why he had. Dorian had a crush on a young girl, as he''s just a young boy. Quena wasn''t that young girl anymore, she was a young woman. Dorian had a long way to catch up if Quena was the kind of creature he sought to capture.  Still, why do I feel guilty?


    Time grew distant as terrain grew less forgiving. Quena had brandished a black crescent and stretched it, making a crude kind of walking staff. Meanwhile, Kurt had been using his little brother''s gift and it was a perpetual reminder of his presence.


    ¡°Fight me,¡± Dorian said, grinning wickedly.


    Kurt closed his eyes and took a slow, deliberate breath. He wanted to think, to focus, but his mind had felt sluggish ever since he returned to Metan. The sight of his home in ruins, the makeshift barricades, and the haunted faces of his people gnawed at him. Deep down, he knew he was struggling to accept the truth, that his home was no longer a certainty.


    The Trapper¡¯s House, once a place of training and discipline, had become a refuge for the sick and dying. The streets he knew so well, and the wilderness he had called his paradise, were now fractured remnants of a past that no longer existed. The idea of Metan as an unshakable constant had been stripped away, and in its place was something fragile, something at risk of vanishing entirely.


    He felt it unsettling something in him, creeping into his decisions, dulling his instincts. It was a dangerous thing, doubt.


    And he knew it.


    Quena had begun to fall behind, so Kurt took a moment to even out his breathing before she caught up. The day wasn''t terrible. There weren''t many spots where the soil had warmed enough yet to become mud. It was brisk, but between his gear and hauling it, he was warm enough. The air was quiet and calm, something he hadn''t really noticed until that moment. The sound of Quena''s heavy breathing became the only apparent sound around.


    Quena approached looking winded but no worse for wear. Kurt gave her the signal to stop, but it took her a second to notice it. When she did, she stopped and glanced about.


    Kurt moved silently as he could as he headed her way. They were in a valley, after all, and when the wind didn''t blow a voice could be heard from a good way off. Kurt came up and leaned against a thick tree.


    Keeping his voice low, he whispered, ¡°I want to get to a clearing, we''ll take a short break there and come up with our next step.¡± Quena bobbed her head in silent agreement as she took a few long breaths. She was already showing early signs of fatigue, even little Dorian would keep up for a few hours yet. Wherever she''d been for all this time, she hadn''t gotten out much.


    ¡°You know,¡± Kurt whispered, ¡°with that facial expression, you kind of remind me of my little brother. Maybe it''s a Priorius thing,¡± he lightly snickered. ¡°Maybe hiking about in the Wilds is just draining to all the divine magics you guys use.¡± He wiggled his fingers at her.


    The glare he got back wasn''t outrage, it was inquisitive, the kind of curious inquiry one does before considering homicide. Kurt put both hands up, feeling as though he was being probed for weakness. He smiled but held her eye. After a moment she seemed ready to go, so Kurt began heading towards what he was relatively sure to be a low meadow.


    He was certain there were several animal trails near the meadow as there was a small freshwater spring. It was rocky in areas, which wouldn''t be a problem if spring were further along. Unfortunately, the dead grass had matted over the tops of the stony ground there, collecting moisture, it made the terrain far worse for a short time. What¡¯s worse is that it was spring, and hibernation had likely ended only a few weeks before. Most larger animals were well adapted to handle such a muddy shit hole, humans were heavily disadvantaged there but Kurt was betting the local human activity had scared most of them off.


    They came to the edge of the clearing and Kurt pointed. Across a straight of river rock mixed with sediment, at an intersection of two soon to be streams, a wedge of trees stood densely. It was better than he had hoped. After another ten minutes, the pair were panting just outside the juncture. Kurt held a hand to his mouth and whispered, ¡°take your pack off, and take a breather. Keep as quiet as you can, sound carries here.¡±


    Quena wasted no time in removing her travel pack, a small thing really. She had her woolen sleeping bag uncoiled, and she strode towards the wooded area. Head held high, she scampered up the steep incline finding a boulder adjacent to a fallen tree limb. Stepping on the solid limb, she stretched a hand out towards the boulder and she seemed to slow for a moment. The stone shaped itself into a kind of platform, where Quena laid down.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Kurt whispered at her.


    ¡°Keeping my edge. Wake me when you¡¯re ready to go,¡± came the curt reply. The stone was almost silent as it moved, making crescent shaped bars across the top of her makeshift bed. As the last one finally stopped moving, the gaps in between were filled with blackness.


    Stunned, Kurt took a moment to admire the creation. If Dorian could have done something like that, they could have walked right through walls. The chaos we could have spread would have been legendary! Kurt mused, momentarily lost in the thought. Just as the sound of his own breathing finally quieted, he caught a faint sound in the air. It wasn''t very distinct but was unique. Tilting his head, he concentrated, catching the off-hand echo of people talking a long ways off.


    Kurt lowered his center and put a hand over one ear. Turning himself ever so slowly, he got a rough idea of where the sound was coming from. Brandishing his staff, he headed in that direction, figuring he could do some quick scouting before Quena woke up from her nap.


    Over the next hour Kurt seriously considered whether the Gods were playing pranks on him or if he just had awful luck. Shortly after he started out, a storm front loomed into view. The black clouds seemed to stall there, adding a mounting sensation of dread to sit heavily at the back of his mind. He got turned around and lost his place as he was brooding over the possibility of a storm. Lost, he had to hike back and leave markers for the return trip. Having made sure he knew his path home, he followed the noises through the thick brush, only stalling to mark various trees or spots. As he did, a mid-morning mist sprinkled down softly through the mostly leafless trees creating a muddy slop that sapped the energy from him. After his first fall, the rain seemed to fatten up, adding additional treachery to his march. After his second fall that slid him down a slope into a bank of muddy grass, he was filthy and half drenched. After his third, he put up no more pretenses at being dry or warm. That''s also when he heard the first loud rumble off in the distance.


    Visibility noticeably dropped as the storm cloud moved closer to the sun and he reflexively thought of the time, remembering where Quena lay sleeping. That rock thing is probably waterproof, right?


    A mounting concern began running through his head, ranging from her not so happy attitude when she woke up to rain, to her being trapped at the bottom of a stream, stuck in a stone coffin of doom!


    Kurt chuckled to himself at the thought, trying to lighten his mood. He sloughed off some mud, when a familiar sound whistled past his ear.


    Instinctively, he knew what he had to do. Without hesitation, he bolted. The arrow that landed in front of him didn''t require inspection, Kurt knew enough of where the archer was to know the general direction to head. A few shouts from behind him verified his assumption, and despite the slippery terrain he came surprisingly close to what it must feel like to fly. Kurt used every available surface as he ran, vaulting from tree stump, to log, to stone, he found traction wherever he could. He kept his footing light whenever he had to run across the mud, for he knew a fall at this time could cost his life.


    He did eventually fall, sliding through the mud at a pace just passed ¡°out of control.¡± Oh fuck, he thought as he headed for a tree, taking the brunt of his momentum against its trunk, he rebounded to land face first in the mud. Luckily, though he was slightly dazed, he was no worse for wear and heaved onward.


    When he finally found his way back, having lost track of his markers as he fled for his life, the sky had become completely overcast and the rain had begun in earnest. Fat drops plopped around him, the sparse green foliage seemed to dance in his periphery, making Kurt jump for fear of another arrow or a hungry beast.


    The upside to this volatile weather, Kurt thought as he began catching his breath, is that those Kressian bastards won¡¯t have the visibility to get a clean shot. I doubt they kept up, spotting me in weather like this wouldn''t be possible. Unless they have a Priorius with them, I should be able to slow down a bit, I won¡¯t do Quena any good if I show up with a broken neck.


    Despite his thoughts, he kept a fair pace through the vegetation, recognizing what he needed to get back to what he expected to be a peninsula by the time he arrived. To his own detriment, Kurt was right.


    The stream, a few hours prior being bone dry, now resembled a raging rapid more than a subtle stream. The peninsula was still there, though the tree at the far edge had begun to slant at an odd angle, the violent water surrounding Quena was washing away the little highland at an alarming rate. Thinking quickly, worried that time was swiftly becoming more important than safety, Kurt ran down the edge of the bank until he came to a particularly narrow spot. He prepared himself, looking at the gap for a long moment. This is fucking stupid! What the hell am I doing?


    He didn''t have the nerve, though he did have the recklessness, still though, he stalled there for too long.  Thunder rumbled above him, and he backed up a touch to lean against a nearby tree. He took his staff in hand, holding the far edge and extending it in front of himself. He took a long breath, preparing his mettle for the test at hand. Despite his boldness, that wasn''t what motivated him to move. No, it was the sound of a whistle followed by a thud in the nearby tree that gave flight to his legs.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Sprinting as best as he could in the muddy yet rocky terrain, Kurt lodged the pole into the center of the stream as he vaulted his way across. At first, he worried his staff wouldn''t find the purchase it needed. Then he noted that he was using his staff, something that wasn''t more than six feet, to pole vault himself across something he obviously couldn''t get across. Stretching, his one hand met the edge of the bank before the raging waters whipped him away, a fleeting ember consumed by a bonfire.


    Scrabbling, he lost his staff, reaching for anything to grab hold of. His hand slipped over rocks and debris, until he found purchase on something solid. A root! By the gods, I''ve been saved by a root!


    Climbing, he pulled his head above water, taking a gasping breath. He hadn''t been under long, but the process was draining, and he was afraid that as his head got above the surface he''d get hit by a surge and end up trying to breath water. To avoid this, he held from gasping in the vital air for a long enough time to ensure he''d be breathing what he was supposed to. Climbing, he found the dirt was still muddy and had little stability. Frantic he''d get shot any moment, he levered himself up and leaned heavily on the tree he knew would be lost any second. The top of the tree finally fell, and Kurt leaped towards the oddly shaped stone containing his companion. As soon as the top of the tree was gripped by the rapids, it lurched outward, taking a large portion of his peninsula with it.


    ¡°Quena! It¡¯s time to wake up! Quena!¡± Kurt shouted at the half gray half black stone. He didn''t know what to do, but knew if he stayed there long, they''d either drown or start growing arrows out of their backs. As both options were shitty, he decided to kick the stone. Sadly, it was the best idea he had, until he nearly broke his toe. The following ¡°best¡± idea was to lean close to the stone and begin shouting as loud as he could.


    Grabbing where he last saw her head, he took a soggy breath in an attempt to inhale passed the torrential downpour. Just as he was about to shout, he felt something. It was a kind of pressure, indescribable, as though his own body extended beyond that of his corporeal form. Then, for the briefest moment, he felt every hair on his body lift. He hugged the cask of Quena tightly just as the ground shook so hard his chest vibrated, and a flash so bright it nearly blinded him behind his shut eyes. Something tickled at the back of his mind, something fragile crumbled away, and before he knew it, his own world disappeared.


    ¡°How does it feel to know that you''re the squire to your little brother?¡± Cackled Moder, his hood flipping back, revealing a head that resembled ruined eggs. ¡°Now, young squire, shall we begin with the basics?¡± Moder''s elongated nose and pointed ears bobbed as he spoke.


    Moder exhaled with a hiss, extending an arm. A darkness pooled in his hand, emanating a faint light. Gripping it, a dark shape extended. When it stopped it looked like a drawn triangle that was missing the last line, it had a perfect ninety-degree angle. The black juxtaposed to the white of Moder''s skin created a stark contrast that caught Kurt''s eye. He stared blankly as Moder''s instruction began.


    ¡°You will not inherit any of his primal abilities, sadly.¡± Moder tossed the black thing out into the broad chamber, and the sound of it whipping through the air echoed back to the two standing there. The torches on the walls didn''t emit near as much light as the ceiling stone, but both were required to keep the pitch black of the underground at bay.


    ¡°You will inherit his form, though, and the ability to manipulate it.¡± As he spoke, he threw. The thrown object arched through the air back at Moder, where he caught it deftly. ¡°There are rules,¡± His clawed fingers grabbed the object. ¡°You may take the Kraken, pardon, Shade and stretch it,¡± Moder stretched one side, elongating it. ¡°Shrink it,¡± he shortened the edge, ¡°or hold it in mass.¡± A green light started to glow from the thing he held, and it began to shift and distort. He pushed it out, and the mass hit the stone floor, making a loud cracking sound. ¡°Holding in mass isn''t recommended, for the cost you pay.¡±


    Interested, he asked, ¡°cost?¡±


    Moder cackled, and some of his skin flaked away and drifted down to rest at his feet. Kurt was going to lose his lunch if he saw that happen again, which reminded him that he hadn''t eaten lunch or anything for that matter in longer than he knew. His stomach agreed.


    ¡°Mostly, metabolic, sometimes exhaustion when you''ve done too much too soon.¡± He idly scratched the top of his head, and a section of uneven flesh plopped onto the floor. It started to move. ¡°Don''t worry,¡± Moder said, flashing a fanged smile, ¡°I''m a very special case.¡±


    After several troll-like creatures arrived with haunches of meat, freshly cooked, Kurt could have leaped for joy. Kurt took several bites before he stopped chewing, a question on his face. He looked to Moder, who happened to be devouring his meal like a tiger at a lamb, when their eyes met. Lifting his head, he said, ¡°Kruktek, he was brave, but stupid.¡±


    Kurt heaved, when Moder and his fledglings erupted in their ¡°kek¡± shriek. Kurt did all he could to empty his guts, but as he put a hand up to his mouth, Moder shouted, ¡°don''t!¡± The abrupt change and the sudden quiet was the only reason he hadn''t purged his insides. ¡°It¡¯s bear, and not even the one you saw earlier. Calm yourself and eat, meat is a luxury to us.¡±


    Kurt stopped himself, looking over the meat. He hadn''t had bear before, so he couldn''t tell if Moder was lying or not. Resigned, he sighed and took a seat on a nearby stone, there he ate quietly. He watched the creatures converse in their strange language, engaging in customs Kurt simply didn''t understand.


    Moder noted the young man sitting by himself and came by. It was odd seeing such a haggard and pale creature walking over on some kind of social visit. It made Kurt a little uncomfortable, as though he''d befriended one of Kressor''s nine demons and it wanted a chat. Moder sent a gout of darkness out and formed the stone next to and under Kurt into a chair. It was curved at the right spots, it was pretty comfortable for stone.


    ¡°They''re K-k-idiots.¡± Moder said, taking a seat.


    ¡°I''m sure.¡± Kurt replied before taking another bite of the bear flesh. He was still really hungry.


    ¡°I''m not trying to belittle them, my children lack many of the things that most creatures have.¡± Moder was looking at them forlornly.


    Seeing the odd expression on the monster, Kurt spoke through a mouthful of meat. ¡°Like what?¡±


    Moder looked over, his oversized head turned, his dark eyes taking Kurt in. ¡°Most lack the essentials and die off quickly. Some are born k-without a brain, or a liver, or some other vital organ. Once, one poor child was born without skin. It wailed for roughly five minutes before I decided to... recycle it.¡± There was a disgusted look on Moder''s face, but he kept on. ¡°One day, perhaps, one of them will be... more. Truthfully, I wish to die well before such a fate befalls any life I spawn.¡± Moder frowned. ¡°Which is why we must return to your training.¡± Moder looked thoughtful for a moment, then swiftly finished his meal, creating a mess of running juices that ran down his face. It looked like blood.


    Not fully sated, but no longer famished, Kurt decided to prolong the conversation. ¡°All right then, explain how all this works while I finish up. I''m sure I''ll figure it out.¡± He ripped into another bite, bear might not be what he expected, but it was similar to pork in texture albeit a lot gamier.


    ¡°K-k-k-arrogant youth.¡± Moder muttered as he wiped his bloody face clean. ¡°In truth, many squires died before long, a problem with the binding. In the last few millennia, I have found a way to bind without the drain on yourself. If the one-sided binding, as they did in ages past, were used, Dorian would quickly begin draining your life to power his own. Many lasted about a year or more, some longer, but always they became frail and withered away.¡± Moder placed his hands down on his chair, and somehow Kurt could sense that he was using his power again. The stone chamber began to shift around them, various walls, stairs and platforms were erected. ¡°The cost of your ongoing life, however, is that your fate is tied to your brother''s now, though not the other way around. This is one of my finest works, before, only a creature of spirit could be bound in such a way.¡±


    ¡°Creature of spirit?¡± Kurt felt rushed as he ate, so he spoke quickly before eating some more. His mouth was starting to grow dry, but he chewed on.


    Noting Kurt''s efforts at chewing were slowing, Moder did something and where his right hand would rest on his chair, a bowl formed. A hole in the center opened up, and after a moment the bowl filled with water. Neat trick.


    ¡°Yes, creatures of spirit. They can take many forms, a Garru, a bear, a cattle dog, whatever they see fit.¡±


    ¡°They? Like they can choose?¡± Kurt said after bending down and drinking deeply.


    ¡°Yes, they can choose what they inhabit. It¡¯s difficult to say for certain, but I believe they prefer creatures with little sentience. There are exceptions, of course. Most spirit-born beings are fragments of something greater, mere pieces of a whole. I suspect there are others scattered throughout the world, but only one true originator within our little pocket of existence. I, myself, have been bound by one. In a way, though, now that your younger brother is here, that bond will soon unravel.¡±


    Moder paused, then let out a low chuckle. ¡°It has been so long since I¡¯ve spoken your tongue without fear, I seem to have lost my point.¡± His expression shifted, his mouth tightening, and for a moment he looked almost¡­ constipated.


    Kurt nearly laughed, but something in the back of his mind, the nagging weight of unease, kept him from it.


    ¡°Now, this power. Many of your people have it now, but they are broken. There is a capacity that each has, but your people have been bred, genetically altered, so that despite the vast reserves of power you could possess you simply have no way of accessing them. Do your people have spectacles?¡±


    Kurt thought it was an odd question to ask, so he quickly explained. ¡°Yes, but nobody knows how they''re made. We have to trade Vega to have the priests craft them for us.¡±


    Moder nodded, "It is fascinating how technology shifts over the ages. Knowledge is lost, and secrets fall into the hands of those who seek control." He let out a brief laugh. "Just two thousand years ago, your people had as much Steelfyre as they wished. Swords were common, as were countless tools designed for durability and efficiency. There was no restriction, no limitation. But after the last revolution, Bacchus decreed that technological advancement and steel weapons were to be outlawed."


    The revelation of such a notion was breathtaking to Kurt. Steel was so rare for them, their entire economy revolved around it. Iron could still be found, especially in Kresson, but the ability to make steel and refine it was one of the most purchased items that Metan bought in to. Kurt had a feeling that made him sick.


    ¡°There is no shortage on Steelfyre, is there?¡±


    ¡°I''m sure I''ve already said so, but no. Giving up control is something he cannot abide.¡± The scowl on Moder''s face was tremulous. ¡°Once again I''ve fallen off topic. Your people are like the frame set for the spectacles but without the lenses. You can''t focus, there is something wrong with how your bodies use the Gia. Though, I believe that this direct manipulation is exactly what will cause his downfall. Despite how easily your people can be bound by his will, one in ten thousand has an opposing effect.¡±


    Kurt had finished his meal but was too enthralled by the lecture to interject. It was like seeing the truth of the world for the first time, and so many things were coming together in his mind. He nodded Moder to continue, giving him his full attention.


    ¡°That opposing effect has finally come. Priorius were only ever born when this power first entered our world, after the wreckage settled, after the great calamity. Some vessels were born and their Gia clotted so heavily that they remained until they found a new vessel, but after a few deaths, they dissolved into the ether of the earth as all others do. No, a true Priorius'' essence is anathema to the residual Gia of the world. All the true Priorius have been captured, harnessed, reserved and tucked away, never to be rebirthed again. There are a few that remain loyal to Bacchus, but they are rare, and their memories incomplete. But, the birth of a new true Priorius has not happened since the Calamity. Until now.¡± Moder smiled broadly, his wide mouth and sharp teeth on full display.


    With a lurch, the chair dropped out from beneath Kurt, flattening into rough stone. Kurt rolled as he landed, ass over elbows, and stayed crouched for a moment. I guess this means it¡¯s time for work.


    Moder, already standing, began instructing instead of lecturing. ¡°This is the most challenging part, it''s easiest to feel it through a focus point, your hand or your chest.¡± Moder put both hands out, and a dark light cast from his body. From all sides, the Shade shot out, wedging itself in a circle around Moder. ¡°Now, that should make things easier.¡± In each hand, a light began to glow, not the dark light as it had before, but a bright green. ¡°Close your eyes and invest all your senses on your focus point.¡±


    Kurt did so, focusing his attention on his right hand. ¡°Gia and Shade, in truth, are both sides of the same coin. It is hard acquiring purity, that can only be defined by the will of the one using it, but for now, imagine how your palm feels. The skin there, the sense of its location without seeing it. Now push, imagine you''re very soul is pushing itself out from that point.¡±


    Kurt concentrated, doing as he was told. He pushed, imagined the point, felt the electrical impulses from the center of his chest, through his arm, stopping at his palm. For thirty seconds or more, he listened to the disturbing voice of Moder explaining how to do as he had done. Thinking he had it, he opened one eye and saw that he looked like a fucking idiot. He frowned.


    ¡°Did you think this would be easy?¡± Moder croaked, then gasped. ¡°Come then, little squire, you''ll need to show more commitment than that.¡±


    Kurt concentrated, closing his eyes again. A long time passed as he concentrated, but nothing came of it. Frustrated, Kurt dropped his arm and began pacing. He took calm breathes, trying to clear his mind. ¡°Perhaps, you''re not the mind your brother has...¡± Moder thought for a moment, about as much time as it took Kurt to take three long breaths.


    Overlarge eyes went wide, and a smile broke onto Moder''s face. ¡°Little squire?¡±


    Exasperated, Kurt looked over. ¡°Stop calling me that.¡± His voice echoed off the stone walls, and for a moment it seemed as though the light of the chamber dimmed.


    ¡°If you can''t do this, then I have little use for you.¡± Moder, with a sudden ferocity, shouted, ¡°little squire, defend yourself!¡± With an animalistic growl, all of the corner-shaped pieces of Shade zapped back into Moder, and in the blink of an eye, he was holding two long pieces of darkness. Instead of a full corner, one side had been shortened, making for a kind of hook. Faster than Kurt could react, Moder leaped towards him, swinging low with one hand and leveling the other at Kurt''s chest. Kurt moved to jump back, but his ankle had already been caught by Moder''s hook-like weapon. He landed flat on his back and let out a woof as all the air seemed to vacate his lungs at once.


    The next thing he knew, Moder was above him, swinging down hard at Kurt''s face. He rolled, narrowly avoiding having his face caved in by the monster. Kurt pushed off the ground as he rolled, using his momentum to stand and face his opponent. Then Moder was on him again, swinging broadly in an attempt to capitalize on Kurt''s disorientation. Kurt stumbled back, then ducked another blow aimed for his head. He turned, making a barrel roll almost immediately to gain some quick distance between his assailant. Gods be damned, but that monster is fast.


    Kurt took to a crouch, circling his opponent. He felt naked without anything to defend himself with, so he held his hands out wide, anticipating an oncoming assault. Moder cackled and threw one of his weapons. Kurt dodged, and shot an angry look in Moder''s direction. Another one came, and Kurt dodged, before two more came his direction. Moder laughed and began hurling one Shade shard after another at him, Kurt dodging in turn.


    Before he knew it, he was running. Making for the edge of the chamber, looking up to the ledge above that held sconces. That could be something.


    Dashing, he hurdled one spike after another, the glowing black sticking out of the stone as Moder missed. One came too close and he stumbled, coming to the ground like an avalanche. Sitting up, slightly dazed, he looked for something to act as a shield. There wasn''t any immediate cover, or he would have dived for that, but the only thing surrounding him were the Shade bolts, now shaped as the ninety degree angle he had seen before. Fuck it then, he thought as he was taken by a reckless whim.


    Reaching out, he grasped the black cut and pulled it out of the stone slab. As he took it, an unnerving sensation took over his insides. It felt, for lack of a better way to describe it, like the removal of a long booger. Or maybe like removing a rag from a bloody nose too soon, the moment you feel the elongated mass sliding past parts of you that are unknown until touched. This was even worse, it felt like that but started at the root of his spine, pulling something across his whole body in a wave that was both revulsion and ecstasy. He had to shut his eyes as the nauseating feeling twisted his stomach in a knot.


    When he opened them, he stared down at a stone sarcophagus. He put a hand to the black bars that ran across the front, and he felt that wave of nausea fill him. He watched this time, as his hand touched the surface, skin to black, a white bubble seemed to emerge from the point of contact. It covered the bar, then the next and the next, until it writhed. He took it in, having the strangest experience logged in to his mind¡¯s eye. A young man, hansom, blond and fit walking in from out of nowhere, booming ¡°who, in the fuck, is in my cave?!¡± He didn''t relive it, but the memory was suddenly his, as though he were the one to have it. The black swirled, and he thought he''d stop, but the darkness that mixed with his light followed him. As it did, he had to pull back, it hurt.


    As he fell back, his hand flailed, catching just the tip of an arrow as it flew past. Don''t these assholes ever take a hint?


    ¡°Quena! It''s time to go! Now!¡± Kurt kept low, rolling on to his gut. He crawled forward, trying to use the stone feature for cover. He was just about to yell right into the hollow of the rock, when Quena lurched up. Realizing the folly of such a move, he grabbed her by her robes and pulled her down into the mud. An arrow sank just beside her, but she didn''t see it.


    ¡°What in the name of the Gods do you think you''re doing?¡± She yelled as she began to get up.


    Kurt pulled her down again, shouting, ¡°saving your hide, now get down!¡± He held her there, and despite the sky darkening overhead, he could make her out clearly. She stared at him, eyes wide, but not with fear. Outrage was the flavor of her expression, with a dash of confusion for good measure. She notably calmed, and her eyes began to glow. She was holding his shirt back, when she had done so, Kurt had no idea, but she gripped him tightly. Slowly, as their eyes met, something shifted in her demeanor. A sly grin quirked at the corner of her mouth.


    Kurt, late to the party as per usual, finally had an idea of what her facial expression might imply, let her go. ¡°There are archers!¡± He shouted over the storm. ¡°I don''t know who, but they''ve followed me for the last hour!¡±


    Her facial expression shifted, realization dawning. ¡°You were supposed to wake me up in twenty minutes!¡± She complained, and Kurt was aghast at the notion. If he wasn¡¯t under so much stress, he wouldn''t have even considered how he woke her up this time. He cut short his outrage when Quena reached out a hand, and the small stone before them spread wide, creating a half dome over them.


    With the sound of the rain and storm muted, he could finally hear his own thoughts. If the storm was some kind of joke, this was a bad one. There were usually one or two storms like this every year, and Kurt had the feeling that this one was only going to get worse.


    He didn''t have to shout this time, but still spoke loudly. ¡°We need to get out of here.¡±


    ¡°No shit!¡± She boomed back, looking angry, or possibly embarrassed? Was she blushing?


    ¡°I mean soon, look.¡± He gestured to the side, which was technically above their heads. The edge of the rapids were quickly withering away the edge of their peninsula and it wouldn''t be long before the entire thing was mud dissolving in the swift currents.


    ¡°Okay, you know the layout here. We need to get somewhere safe, do you know anything nearby?¡± She was quickly coming to speed with the situation it seemed, and Kurt nodded.


    ¡°Our closest option is a hut, but I doubt it will be safe through this storm and the archers. I can think of three caves nearby but we''ll have to cross the rapids. Barring that, there''s an alcove we can weather the storm in on this landmass, but it won''t do shit for the archers. Its more than a mile off though.¡±


    ¡°It will have to do. Stretching stone is easier when its whole, I doubt there''s a stone that large around an edge and who knows how long it would be before we found it.¡±


    Kurt thought about the thin spot where he had attempted to vault over but disregarded it. That spot was likely covered, and as soon as they came to a bank, they''d both be out of tree cover. So instead, he set his direction and nodded.


    She held a finger up as he started to stand. She reached out to his face, and he was suddenly immobilized, remembering Diana reaching for his face in the same way.


    Instead of what he remembered, she passed his face and touched the stone. A spiraling mass of liquid stone appeared there, and she sat up to reach down to their feet. She placed the stone to each of his boots, and when it came away he saw half inch spikes protruding there. She didn''t quite do the same thing to herself, instead she made a kind of half sandal, only covering the ball of each foot. Then she coated her upper torso in something one would consider a breastplate. She reached out and did the same to Kurt. It was stiff, but once he sat up he saw that it wouldn''t hinder his movement much, though his stomach was exposed. That was when she noticed the gash on his arm and pointed.


    ¡°That''s no good, you''re bleeding like a goat. One second.¡± Warmth came over his entire arm, then the rest of his body. He felt better, like he had been resting there for a day. Looking down, the cut was gone, just some pink flesh where it had been.


    ¡°Sorry, no time to hold it shut. We should go.¡±


    As she said that, three arrows landed down by their feet. Quena beckoned to the stone, and it shifted, now covering that side of them. Kurt nodded in agreement, then asked, ¡°ready?¡±


    She nodded, and from a four-point stance, Kurt ran. A loud grinding noise started to permeate the raucous sound of the storm, then sizzling. A bright flash came from behind him, and he couldn''t help but turn his head the first moment he had. The boulder was gone, and across the way from the overflowing stream, he could make out small lights that were swiftly going out. Then, at a wholly inhuman speed, Quena had run like a blur, stopping abruptly in front of him.


    ¡°Come on you idiot! I can''t run like that much more, let¡¯s go!¡± She was waiting on Kurt. Oh yeah, she doesn''t know where they were heading.


    After taking a single heartbeat to appreciate her forward thinking in a moment of crisis, he took off. The spikes on his boots really helped, but he had to add an extra kick every tenth step or so or he¡¯d be carrying half the forest with him. Still, he didn''t falter for lack of footing, and for a brief moment, a smile broke onto his face. It was ridiculous, sprinting through an epic storm for fear of being shot in the back. Ludacris, but something here felt right.


    It was the Wilds, and in a way, it was playing its music to Kurt. As the sparse leaves danced to the rhythm of the rain, he too felt that rhythm as a song of liberation. The trees that passed were the notes to a feral instrument, the brush at his knees the never-ending twill of harmony, his sporadic heartbeat offset to the intravenous thunder that gave his music the base it required. All of this, and more, were what made the song of his living life. Though he was in direct peril, the defining song filled him with a joy unmatched as he rode along the cliff''s edge of mortality.

 Chapter 27 - Revelry

    "Please, God, no more. This isn¡¯t what we agreed upon. I can feel it, my very soul twisting, warping into something unrecognizable. Please, there will be nothing left of me!"


    Bacchus laughed through my lips, the sound stretching unnaturally, reverberating through my bones. When it finally spoke, its words slithered into my mind like an infection.


    "God? As in just one? How pitifully human. Is it so easy for your kind to weave eternity into a single thread, to bind the infinite into a shape that comforts your fragile mind? Does it help, this illusion, to keep the knife from your throat?


    You are warping, yes, but what did you expect when you bound your essence to mine? Do you not see it yet? The vastness of eternity, the truth of the world as it truly is? Cast off your humanity and look beyond your feeble existence. Know the patience of a being unshackled by time. Know the weight of my imprisonment. And at last, know the ecstasy of my freedom!"


    Dorian woke to the sound of a door shutting. His head was foggy, and his body ached with general malaise. He rubbed his eyes, noting the not so broken arm, then smiled. He stretched, taking in his surroundings.


    He was in one of the hospital cells, likely the closest one to the gymnasium. The bed he woke on was draped in itchy wool, and though it was warm, he couldn''t fight the urge to scratch every inch of his body. The curtain surrounding his bed was a thin material, though Dorian wasn''t really sure what it was, he was certain that anyone outside could see the shadow of his moving body.


    ¡°Hello?¡± he said, sounding unsure in his own ears.


    ¡°Just a moment,¡± a voice called in response.


    ¡°Um, okay.¡± Dorian wasn''t sure who was out there, but the voice was feminine. ¡°I promise, I''m just itching myself.¡± A soft snort came from beyond the curtain, and he heard her moving around. He became immediately alarmed as he had no shirt, so he darted under the covers. He hated himself for it, but his piss-poor body image had its demands, his fear of being seen shirtless made his stomach drop. He knew there was nothing for it, but he was still utterly embarrassed by his stretchmarks, oversized gut, and his not-so-manly chest. They''re tits, Dorian. You have man-tits, mits, moobs.


    When the curtain moved, Sister Brenda walked in. She was carrying a bed tray with an assortment of foods on it. Dorian got excited for a moment, as he realized he was famished, but drew back at the thought of his blubbery torso.


    ¡°Hello, Sister Brenda. I hope the... evening?.. finds you well.¡±


    She nodded, placing the tray in front of Dorian. ¡°It does, excellent bout Dorian. I knew you had it in you.¡± She smiled, seeming cheery. She usually wasn''t so upbeat, and it took Dorian off guard. Dorian kept his blanket high, not wanting to display his overtly voluptuous bosom, and sampled at the light fair.


    ¡°So, what''s with the chicken feed? I know I''m a bit circular overall, but would a little gravy have killed me?¡±


    She chuckled softly, ¡°every bit will count soon. Dorian, I''m not sure you know what you''ve gotten yourself in to.¡± She went somber.


    ¡°I do, my best shot at ascension. What am I to do on the day of my final judgment? I can''t even grow weeds well, and heat manipulation? I''m worst in class for both of my Primes.¡±


    She seemed chagrined as she said, ¡°yes but you have top scores for history, mathematics, and sciences. Don''t think that because you''re not doing well in your Primes that the other classes don''t matter, or that they aren''t considered.¡±


    Dorian finished chewing on an apple slice, then spoke. ¡°I know what you''re doing, Sister, and I appreciate it, but be honest. I''m so far below decent that I''ll be lucky to catch up to my age group before I''m in my eighteenth year. This isn''t just my best shot,¡± he looked away, not able to keep her eye, ¡°it''s my only shot.¡± He finished the statement quietly.


    She gave him a look, one that said there would be hell to pay if he kept that attitude, then sighed. ¡°We will find what''s blocking you.¡± Her voice lowered to a whisper, ¡°you wouldn''t have been able to do what you did with so little power. There''s something blocking you, and I''m going to figure it out.¡±


    The door swung open, a barking voice followed. ¡°I told you he''d win it, I told you. Let''s get the boy up and out, you owe me a date woman, and you won¡¯t be backing out this time.¡±


    Dorian''s eyebrows dropped in confusion, but the shock on Sister Brenda''s face was almost enough to rock Dorian right out of bed. Metae''s malicious menstruations, is she blushing?


    Eye''s going round, Dorian softly said, ¡°no worries, I''m up.¡±


    ¡°Oh, my mistake master Dorian.¡± Brother Michael walked in, smiling like a kid on holiday. ¡°One hell-of-a match, son. That was tournament worthy all by itself, considering this is the first Grand tournament we''ve seen in our lifetime, I''m proud you''ll be representing the Monastery.¡±


    ¡°Brother Michael, I''m glad to see you.¡±


    ¡°And I you! That was a damn good fight, even if Danny was cheating, you still gave it to him, eh?¡±


    Dorian''s humility was kicking in, and he got sheepish. ¡°Thank you, Brother-¡±


    ¡°Just call me Michael behind closed doors, soon the proper address will be Coach. I''ll be training you for the next long while, and if you think I''ll let you get away with extra rest on formality, think again.¡± Despite his words, he smiled.


    ¡°Okay, uh, Michael.¡± Dorian took a moment to acclimate himself to no longer using the honorific. ¡°Long while? Grand tournament?¡±


    ¡°Well, it''s not so long off, but it will be for you. You are to meet me at the gymnasium tomorrow morning, an hour before first class. I''ll see myself to the hall, Sister, a word when you have a moment.¡± He grinned boyishly, then turned about and left through the thin curtain. Dorian could still see his outline though, and the notion of it being a private conversation swiftly evaporated.


    ¡°Thank you for bringing me dinner, Sister Brenda. I''m sure I can see myself back to my room. Is Danny already there? I have a feeling he''ll be... upset. I was hoping I could request a room transfer.¡±


    She gave him a long look, then went somber. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary Dorian, he''ll be in a ward for a while.¡±


    Curious, Dorian eloquently asked, ¡°huh?¡±


    ¡°He''s burned through his personal mineral reserves, Dorian. That''s very dangerous, especially with calcium. He''ll be lucky if he''s walking by himself before the new year.¡±


    Dorian was taken aback by this statement, not really understanding. ¡°Wait, why can''t you guys just patch him up, like you did me?¡± He pointed to his arm.


    She shook her head, ¡°he burned through his stores of calcium, and the body can only take in so much at a time, even a vessel. What would they heal? His skeleton was more hallow than bird bone.¡± She shook her head, making a ¡°tsk¡± noise as she did.


    Despite Danny being a total dick, Dorian didn''t want the guy to be bedridden, he couldn''t think of a worse fate than that. He suddenly felt guilty, then hated himself for it because he knew that if their places were switched, Danny wouldn''t give a damn. That salved his guilt, slightly, but none the less he felt that he was in some way responsible. Was this all because he hadn''t woken Danny that one time, and now, through an exacerbated chain of events, Danny would be bedridden? How would he ascend?


    ¡°I see you''re worrying, again, Dorian. Let it go.¡±


    ¡°But Sister-¡±


    ¡°Let it go. There''s nothing that you can do about it now short of donating bone marrow, something I wouldn''t recommend.¡±


    ¡°Why''s that?¡±


    ¡°Because it hurts like you wouldn''t believe. Trust me.¡± A pensive look ran across her face but was replaced shortly thereafter with something akin to mischief.


    ¡°I have to go, Dorian. I''ll see you in two days, or four, or whatever it ends up being for you.¡±


    Dorian beetled his brow together, but before he could ask anything, the curtain had already softly drifted back into place. Suddenly alarmed, he shouted, ¡°wait, what about my pants?!¡±


    Assuming she hadn''t heard, he started to look around the medical bed, not seeing a thing. Just as the words ¡°Oh fuck¡± ran across his mind, he was hit in the face with his bleached white trousers. The next thing he heard was the laughter of two middle-aged adults, the joy in their voice echoing down the stone halls. Dorian smiled, not for himself, his success in the ring, or his own health, but for two people finding each other in the desolate stone mountain they called home.


    Finally dressed, Dorian set out, not really sure what time it was. It had to be late, considering that most of the cells he passed already had their residing initiates lounging about in them. He remembered that Malik had invited him up, and said there would be a get together. Then again, staying out late was a quick way to find himself knee deep in bear scat. He didn''t want his first step towards this ¡°Grand¡± tournament to be the wrong step, then again, he was all kinds of hopped up from his recent success. He considered, if he went to his room he wouldn''t sleep well anyways, he''d just woken up after all. If he went to the social gathering, however, he could find out who his mysterious benefactor was. After running through both options in his head, he made his decision and headed towards the stairs. He remembered the way to Malik''s well enough, he hoped he wouldn''t get lost before lights out.


    He did, of course, manage to get lost. He remembered too late which floor Malik''s room was on and had to backtrack to the stairs. As he climbed, the lights went out, leaving him in pitch black. He froze for a moment, holding on to the banister. Shit, shit, shit! He thought frantically but took a few deep breaths to find his center. Remembering what he had done before, he summoned Gia over the lenses of his eyes, making any residual Gia glow faintly in his vision.


    Around him, despite the stone being void of Gia, the bits of accumulated dust and dirt had enough to give him a rough outline of his surroundings. Exhaling slowly, he kept on. He found the right floor, made the appropriate turns, hoping against hope that he wouldn''t have to make the walk back to his own cell.


    Finally, he came to the door and knocked. After no response, he knocked again but harder. Still nothing. Okay Dorian, give up and turn back, or...


    He ever so softly tried the handle on the door, it turned, and the door creaked open.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    Nothing responded, so he stepped in, shutting the door behind him. Tired of the half-muddled light, he summoned an apple sized ball of Gia to his hand, then held it out in front of himself. The light was more than sufficient to inspect the room, unfortunately, there wasn''t anything to inspect. The boxes had been removed, the room was vacant, and there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. Just as he was about to give up, he felt a soft vibration. Quieting his breath, he could hear it more, but just barely. What in nine hells is that?


    Dorian moved over to the foot of the bed, putting his hand to the wall there, he could feel the vibrations as clear as day. He put his ear to it, listening. Is that music?


    Not sure what to do, Dorian knocked on the wall. Not too hard, as he didn''t want the other people living in the hall to notice. Then he tried again, this time putting a bit more oomph into the blow. He put his ear up to the wall only to hear the soft rhythm of music once more. He leaned against the wall, sitting down feeling defeated.


    He thought furiously, but nothing came of it. As he thought, however, he began to ¡°throw¡± the ethereal ball he had summoned back and forth between his hands. He wasn''t really sure how that worked, if he dropped his active control of the substance, it would funnel back to him, albeit in small streams, how he could toss it from hand to hand, he had no clue. That is to say, until he dropped the ball, and it fell through the floor. He let go of his control and watched as the usually invisible substance crawled upwards and back into his body.


    He was finally struck by an idea, then told himself if it didn''t work he''d give up and find his way back to his bed. He summoned most of his Gia, which wasn''t much, but enough to shape it into a mimic of his hands. He wasn''t that skilled at moving the substance without gestures, so he sent his mirrored hands forward through the wall. The vibrations stopped.


    He waved, then turned his hands to display his palms in a movement that resembled what he would do if he were clueless, which he was, then pointed back at himself. He opened his hands again repeating this process once more, then dropped his control pulling the Gia back to himself. After a moment, the wall shifted. Dorian could see Gia coming from somewhere, though not thickly, shifting the stone outward, and opening a door. Light shone through the archway, one face Dorian had never seen, the other was Malik smiling broadly.


    Malik rolled his hand, and Dorian took the hint by stepping through the archway, the stone shifting behind him. He gasped slightly as more than thirty people sat on various furniture, Giastone crystals hanging down from the ceiling, although dimly lit, and a small stage. Upon the stage, a man sat with a lute, head tilted. He and everyone else were staring at Dorian, and he shifted uncomfortably. He bowed his head when Malik put his hand on Dorian''s shoulder.


    ¡°Apologies, I forgot to introduce our guest of honor. The winner of the best two bouts I''ve ever seen, Dorian... err... White.¡± Malik patted his arm and whispered, ¡°sorry, forgot your family name there for a second.¡± Dorian smirked at him for a moment, shaking his head. He waved to the crowd, ¡°sorry for my tardiness, it got a little dark after I left the medical bay.¡± People started whispering around him, generally indistinct, but Dorian made out the words ¡°cruel bastard¡± and ¡°Danny.¡± Dorian''s face went red as he looked for an escape. He saw an open chair and said, ¡°please continue, it felt delightful.¡± He gestured to the lute player, as everyone looked towards the man on stage, Dorian stole the lone chair. By the time anyone looked back at Dorian, he was situating himself, wondering, why in the hell did I show up here?


    The man on stage coughed, and most of the heads swiveled back towards him. Dorian gave a silent prayer of thanks for the man''s kindness. He kicked back into the luxurious chair, impressed by how plush it was. He inspected it, and had no idea what it was made of, all he knew was that it beat the hell out of hospital beds.


    The man up front started playing a dour tune, although melodic, it put Dorian in a dark head space. When he finished everyone clapped softly, and someone came around offering drinks. Dorian took one gratefully, he had a sip and found it to be incredibly refreshing. He downed the rest quickly, got up, and swapped it out for another.


    One other initiate, roughly Dorian''s age, raised a glass and said, ¡°yeah! Now that''s what I''m talking about.¡± Dorian smiled and nodded once before making his way back to his seat. He had another sip, tasting notes of apple, grape, and something else. It was the most delicious, flavored water he had ever tasted.


    His stomach dropped as a warm feeling filled him just as the lute player began his next song. It was an upbeat tune, thankfully, and he found himself tapping his foot to the music, bewitched by the sight of swift fingerings and melodic tempo. He all but forgot that he wasn''t really sure what he was drinking, the song filling him to the point that every thought and action became autonomous.


    Without thinking, he took another sip, entranced by the performance. Everything else in his vision blurred into obscurity, leaving only the lute bathed in soft illumination. The music swelled, the room darkened, and then, just as suddenly, the melody cut off.


    Jolted from his trance, he heard voices. Were they upset?


    He glanced around. The people were clear, but something was off. The furniture, the floor¡ªgone, swallowed by shadow. The only light left was the one on stage. Someone stood and inspected one of the lower-hanging Giastone lamps. Dorian took another sip, watching as the initiate studied the stone, then slowly turned her gaze toward him.


    He looked away. Everyone was staring at him.


    ¡°Hey, new kid, what¡¯d you do to the lights?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± He blinked, feeling like a dunce.


    ¡°The lights, Dorian dunce. Malik, what¡¯s with this guy?¡±


    Gods-damned telepaths.


    Murmurs rippled through the stone chamber. He scoffed. Why did people even bother whispering in a room made entirely of rock? Yet somehow, he was the dunce.


    Grunting, he pushed himself up from the comfortable chair. If this had something to do with him, he figured he¡¯d better take a look.


    The young woman handed him the light. He nearly dropped it, then felt like an idiot when he noticed the wire keeping it in place. Holding it up, he peered inside. He could see the Gia, but something about it was... wrong. It was subtle, but after spending enough time around the strange energy, he knew how it behaved. From a distance, nothing seemed amiss. Up close, though, he saw the small shifts in color, the way Gia was always in flux.


    But here, within the crystal, it wasn¡¯t moving at all.


    ¡°Dorian, my friend, what''s happened?¡± Malik said from behind him.


    ¡°Huh? Oh, uh, I don''t know. I think it''s broken. Wow, is it warm in here to you?¡±


    ¡°He was watching the show and all the lights started to dim, meanwhile he started to glow like a freaky torch bug.¡±


    A few more murmurs echoed through the room, and Dorian struggled to process that. Stalling for time, he downed his drink, and for once in his Gods forsaken life, he stopped thinking. He smiled, ¡°Oh, sorry everyone, I didn''t realize.¡± Summoning his Gia, he pushed into the stone. Normally, there was no resistance, but with this there was. He focused, purifying the light. Once he had lit the stone in his hand, he reached out with his mind out to every spot that felt the same way. The lights surged, so bright that Malik had to shield his eyes. Most people in the room covered their eyes too, some people going so far as to stuff their face into the furniture or covering their heads with blankets.


    ¡°A little less, Dorian, please.¡± Malik said, and Dorian obliged, lowing the lights to the levels they were at when he arrived, but keeping the light on stage relatively brighter.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°Oops, sorry again.¡± He put his hands up in a placating gesture, then whispered, ¡°Malik, I should probably go.¡±


    Dorian heard a few voices chittering, ¡°holy shit¡± and ¡°did you see his eyes?¡± He was about to simply flee and pray he could find an exit. He wasn¡¯t used to such a large social gathering, and the amount of eyes on him made him skittish. He wanted to go but Malik was in front of his face in the blink of an eye. The room went quiet.


    ¡°Dorian, did you just light every Giastone in the room?¡± He stared blankly at Dorian, his face unreadable.


    ¡°Uh, yes?¡± So much for not thinking. I¡¯m a fool.


    Malik laughed once. Then smiled, then laughed even harder. With that, tension seemed to break, and the room erupted in something like excitement. Dorian was confused, but before he could make anything of it, Malik had grabbed him by the shoulders. ¡°Can you do that again?¡± Dorian nodded, ¡°yeah, uh no problem.¡± Malik hugged him.


    ¡°Someone bring this man a drink,¡± he said as he pulled away, then patted Dorian''s shoulder. ¡°Does anyone feel like going for a swim?¡±


    The room cheered.


    As everyone packed up everything, even the furniture, Malik explained. Apparently, their little hideout was once much more than that, it used to be the private recreational area belonging to the Brothers and Sisters of the Monastery. They had been confined to a small portion of the area since Malik had discovered the location because they only had a few working Giastones. He struggled to get more and apparently found it more challenging than it was to acquire rooms near the hideout as he aged. Dorian was curious how Malik managed to get there when he was younger but saved his questions for later. He had no problem finding quartz, as that''s all Giastones were, but none of them were lit. He hadn''t been able to find out how to get them to do whatever the hell they should be doing, and thus they were confined to the small yet comfortable area he had seen before.


    As they walked, Dorian lit every light along the way, meanwhile Malik clapped gleefully. Exiting a hall that had several rooms along the way, Dorian could light the rooms without going in and was curious what was in there, until they came to an open chamber. The highest light he could feel above him was nearly twenty yards upwards. When he lit it, the room seemed to emerge out of nowhere.


    The space was massive, to the right was a small amphitheater, to the left sparse furniture surrounding a fireplace. The stone itself wasn''t the usual dark basalt, but instead was a brilliant white. It seemed artistic, there was a certain something to the way the stone had been shaped. There was a large stone table, lots of smaller ones, and a door.


    ¡°What''s behind the door?¡±


    ¡°Why don''t we go light it up and find out, yes?¡±


    Dorian agreed, Malik led the way to the door and opened it for him as everyone else set the furniture up. ¡°Ah, that''s where you got the furniture. I was wondering.¡± Dorian turned, and with a flick of his wrist, lit the room to reveal a large hot spring.


    Malik laughed in excitement. ¡°Vinny, come see!¡± He shouted out the door. Through the door, Dorian could hear excited chatter evolving into the garbled noises of people talking all at once. From the crowd came Vinny and one companion, the robed figure from before. She or he was obviously cold, but Dorian thought he could see a pale chin exposed to the light from underneath the upturned hood.


    Vinny was striding, while the other seemed to glide along. Vinny was wearing a garish looking robe of some shiny material Dorian had never seen. It flowed as openly as Malik''s hair did. Malik was swept up by Vinny, broad smile on his face. The gesture was rather odd, and Dorian light-headedly pondered it for a moment until Vinny cupped Malik''s face, leaned in, and kissed him.


    Dorian''s brows shot up, likely passed his hairline, and he looked away, feeling as though he were intruding on a moment. Vinny broke from Malik, and stepped towards Dorian.


    Dorian put his hands up, ¡°Whoa Vinny, I''m all up for a friendly hello, but that might be a bit much.¡±


    Malik laughed, Vinny hugging Dorian regardless. He stepped away as Dorian stared wide eyed, head turned, and chin tucked.


    Vinny chuckled softly. ¡°Don''t concern yourself, Dorian, I don''t bite often.¡±


    Dorian gave a ¡°ha-ha¡± but it swiftly tapered. The robed figure was shaking violently, until finally she burst out in the most hideous laugh Dorian had ever heard. He kind of liked it.


    ¡°Well done, Dorian. You seem to be the answer to Malik''s prayers. Originally, I would have harbored quite the grudge over this last loss, but I dare say, this is stupendous. How did you manage?¡± His voice was airy and articulate.


    ¡°Oh, this? Idunno, I just kinda get in and fill it. The tough part is just breaking through, but once you get in its pretty easy.¡± Dorian''s vision blurred a little, as his next thought came too late. Wording, Dorian.


    ¡°Indeed, I know all too well what that''s like.¡±


    That awful laughter sounded again, and Dorian brightened at it. Malik was standing next to Vinny now with an arm around his waist.


    ¡°Hey, I''m parched, anyone have any more of that flavored water, that stuff is delicious.¡± He shook his head to clear it, but it didn''t help any.


    ¡°Oh no, Dorian, how many have you had?¡±


    Dorian thought and used his fingers to count. He couldn''t recall and shrugged.


    ¡°It seems as though you do need another,¡± Vinny waved over at some of the others, then made a drinking gesture. Malik mumbled something at Vinny, but he only smiled, replying with placation in his voice, ¡°it''s alright, you can''t overdo it with Hubris Sap, he''d have to drink gallons in less than an hour. He''s just not used to it, something I aim to fix.¡± One of the people setting up the furniture came by with two jugs, handing them off to Vinny and returning to his previous endeavor. Vinny Shaped a table with a few stone mugs on it, broke the mugs loose from the table, then proceeded to fill each of the mugs. Vinny passed the mugs out to the four people, then held his up.


    ¡°To our patron of light, Dorian in white.¡± They would have clinked glasses, but instead it sounded more like a clunk of mugs, either way they downed their drinks. Vinny swiftly refilled them, smiling loosely.


    Dorian was beyond lightheaded at this point, in fact, he was pretty sure the room was spinning slightly. Normally, this meant vertigo of some kind, yet his balance wasn''t bad nor was his stomach upset from motion. His tongue, however, seemed determined to slur everything, like there was a long pause between his brain and his mouth. ¡°Sho, why didn''cha just light torcheths? I mean, it seemsho odd that you would stay in the small place when you''ve got thish big ol'' everything.¡± Dorian gestured broadly, smiling, then looking around as though he was about to get in trouble for doing so.


    ¡°Alas, despite your inebriation, it seems you''re more deductive than most.¡±


    ¡°Inductive,¡± Dorian brought his brows down, ¡°I think. That''s inductive reashoning idn''t it?¡±


    Malik smiled, but Vinny took it as a serious query. After a moment, he put down the thought, returning to the previous question. ¡°We don''t burn in here for two reasons, first,¡± a long and elegant finger went up, ¡°it''s warded against flame in here. We''ve tried, and the only spot that isn''t warded is the fireplace. Second, there''s enough air flow in here for us to breath just fine, but you get a few torches in here and we''ll suffocate within the hour.¡±


    Dorian''s eyes went wide, ¡°oh, well, that wouldn''t be good.¡± His face went grim, and he scanned the room in the silence that followed. ¡°So, what do we do next?¡±


    Vinny clapped his hands, excitement in his voice. ¡°First order after music is a drinking game. Ever play do or don''t?¡±


    Dorian shook his head then replied, ¡°I have a feeling I''ll get to learn here shortly.¡± Malik and Vinny both smiled broadly.


    The evening began to fade, but with splendor. Dorian had never had so much fun, whether it was the drink or the company, he was compelled to be the spirit of cheer. The drinking game they played consisted of a series of dares, you either do the dare or you drink. Most of the dares were simple, silly, stupid, or scandalous. Dorian assumed that the opening dares were just a way to get people to kick back a few drinks and loosen up. The ¡°Dare Cup¡± was passed every round, but if the one dared actually did it, they got the cup, skipping everyone else, if they didn''t it passed to the next in line after the darer had a drink. The liquid in the cup was a much more concentrated version of the Hubris Sap.


    This was about the time that ¡°Hubris Sap¡± was explained to him. It was an intoxicant but with nominal amounts of side effects. For the most part, it behaved like alcohol, but with a few exceptions. It didn''t leave you with a hangover, it didn''t upset your stomach, and there was an immediate antidote to its effects, which was charcoal made from birch. Since most of the paper they used came from a variation on the birch tree, the antidote wasn''t hard to come by. The liquid itself came from an odd little plant, when over watered it exudes the excess moisture out of the leaves, and at an impressive rate. Dorian had never heard of it, probably because he was a dweeb and didn''t socialize much, or because he''d always been satisfied with his immediate friends and never saw a need to branch out. A decision he was decidedly against at that point as he was fully engrossed in the evening.


    At some point one of the others started playing music, which added an ambiance of jubilee to the room. It carried much better in the bigger room, the well-lit chamber came to life with the cadence of rhythmic chords, cheerful banter, and raucous laughter. The smiles lighting everyone''s faces made Dorian feel resolved over coming to the party, he knew they wouldn''t be enjoying themselves so much if they had to do it in the dark, something Dorian was solely responsible for. For the first time in his life, he felt like he actually had something to offer.


    Which led his thoughts down the valley of his real friends, the ones that were asleep or playing cards. The ones that didn''t need Dorian to offer them anything, they accepted him whether or not he could swing a quarterstaff or make quartz glow. As his mind headed down this path, the guilt he felt must have been apparent, because Malik was giving him a curious look.


    Vinny followed Malik''s look and asked, ¡°what''s got you so glum, Dorian?¡±


    Snapping out of his reverie, he looked up with wide eyes, fat kid caught with fat hands in a cookie jar. ¡°Oh, nothing. Just thinking I owe my friends more than I''ve given.¡±


    ¡°You''ve given us the world, err well, the room at least. We couldn''t be more grateful,¡± he finished this statement by gesturing about the circle of inebriates.


    Dorian waved him away, ¡°Oh, I can tell you''re very grateful.¡± He held his stone mug up, then took a sip. ¡°I mean my other friends, Jack and the Tanner brothers. I feel bad, they''re probably asleep meanwhile I''m having the time of my life.¡± Dorian hiccupped, then covered his mouth. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said, fully embarrassed.


    ¡°Oh, no matter, we''ll invite them next week.¡±


    ¡°Really? You don''t have to do that.¡±


    ¡°No, I insist, any friend of yours is a friend of mine, and if they''re assholes, they just won¡¯t be invited back. Pretty simple really, I''ll give anything a try once. Speaking of...¡± Vinny looked over to two people that were arguing petulantly. ¡°Hey, pass the dare cup or don''t!¡±


    One of the two bickering was a quiet underclassman, Dorian recognized her but never knew her to talk, or do anything for that matter. It seemed she was a different person when she had a few sips of sap. She had been dared to take her undershirt off, then agreed by somehow removing her undershirt without removing her outer shirt. The other one, someone Dorian had never seen before, was arguing that she hadn''t fulfilled the dare, even if she obviously had.


    ¡°Drink your drink, she got you, don''t get shitty because she''s more clever than you. Cora, I do believe it''s your dare.¡±


    Cora snatched the cup, sloshing some of the drink around as she did so. ¡°Danae, I dare you to...¡± she thought a moment, ¡°to dance to this song.¡±


    Danae had been sitting by Cora but hadn''t spoken much. She smiled, face going red. Danae shook her head and said, ¡°I''ll drink. I''m no good at dancing.¡±


    ¡°Liar!¡± Cora raised an accusatory finger, ¡°I''ve seen you dancing in the locker room, you''ve got the moves!¡±


    ¡°Okay, fine, I just don''t want to dance. Maybe in a while.¡± Cora took a drink, shook her head and handed the cup off to Vinny. As she did, Dorian thought he heard Cora whisper at Danae, ¡°don''t worry. I''ll dance with you if you want.¡± Danae blushed even more, hiding from the moment in her drink. That''s an excellent technique, I should use that, Dorian thought to himself as Vinny looked right over at Dorian. He immediately found safety in his cup.


    ¡°Dorian, what is your greatest fear?¡±


    The question caught Dorian off guard, and he nearly spat out the precious nectar. Normally he''d shove thoughts like that directly to the waste pile in the back of his mind, but as intoxicated as he was, he couldn''t run from the question. Then he felt the slightest nudge, it was subtle, but Dorian knew it was there. He glared momentarily, turning his head slightly as he looked over to Malik.


    ¡°Don''t do that.¡± He said plainly.


    ¡°Do what?¡± Malik''s eyebrows had shot up as his face wore an expression of innocence.


    ¡°You know what, come on, I don''t have much, please let me keep my mind.¡±


    ¡°Truly, twas not I. Perhaps, one other here is telepathic.¡± He appeared as though his words weren''t heard. ¡°To all those present, if you have any telepathic capacity, drink.¡± He didn''t say the words loudly, but said it in a way that carried. Dorian looked around to find that about a third of the people had taken a drink. Kressor be damned.


    Malik gestured, ¡°see, now, obviously somebody else wants to know.¡± Then in a conspiratorial tone he added, ¡°he does this to everybody on their first day. Best to be honest.¡± He looked over to Vinny quickly, who hadn''t stopped looking at Dorian, then back. The hooded one with the awful laugh was between them, but she, he assumed, wasn''t big enough to create much of a gap in distance.


    Vinny was still waiting, so Dorian took a breath and let it out in a slow sigh. ¡°Uh, I''ve got an idea but I''m not sure which I dread more. If you asked me earlier tonight, I would have said something like getting stuck in the halls with the lights off-¡±


    Vinny laughed uproariously. ¡°You mean to say, you faced one of your biggest fears just this evening?¡±


    Dorian looked around without moving his head then locked back on Vinny. ¡°err, yes?¡±


    Vinny laughed again, clapped his hands once and stood. He left the circle only to grab a pitcher, returning to fill everyone''s drinks before sitting again. ¡°So, next greatest fear?¡±


    ¡°Once again, if you asked me earlier today I''d have said getting my ass kicked by Danny in front of the entire class.¡±


    Contemplatively, Vinny weighed his words, likely because Dorian''s words didn''t sound as good coming out of his mouth as they had in his head, slurred speech and all, but the point was made well enough. ¡°Once again, another fear down. Perhaps, Dorian the fearless?¡±


    Dorian laughed, waving a hand at Vinny. ¡°Stop, that''s not even funny, I''ve got plenty of fears.¡±


    An eyebrow went up. ¡°Dorian the brave then?¡± He chuckled at himself for a moment, then asked, ¡°so what fear do you have left then? Come then, say it, what''s the first thing to come to mind? What do you fear deepest, right now?¡±


    Vinny leaned over and filled Dorian''s cup, then gestured. ¡°Perhaps a bit more of the liquid courage, yes?¡±


    Malik looked to the one he''d mentally nicknamed ¡°Robes,¡± then over to Vinny. ¡°I think Dorian has had enough liquid courage for a time-¡±


    Dorian pointed a belligerent finger at Malik, ¡°oh and I beg to disagree, Malik. I need all the courage I can get!¡± He smiled broadly, drank deeply, then felt his stomach churn as Vinny filled the cup again.


    Though he knew he sounded drunk, he was feeling uppity, so he stopped thinking and just let it out. ¡°Okay, okay, okay. Between us, since you''ve been so courteous with all the hospitality, and the drinks and the music and-¡±


    ¡°Oh, would you just spit it out man?¡± Said Robes.


    ¡°Fine! My biggest fear is being seen¡­¡± He sighed, then muttered, ¡°shirtless.¡±


    The words left his mouth before he could stop them. His face burned as he cast his eyes downward, hiding behind his drink. Why had he said that? What a stupid, stupid thing to admit. He braced for ridicule, but to his surprise, Vinny and Malik were smiling.


    Dorian furrowed his brows. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s so funny? I just laid bare my deepest fear, and you two¡ª¡±


    Malik held up a hand, cutting him off. ¡°Wait, shirtless? You mean pant-less, right?¡±


    Dorian blinked. ¡°No? I don¡¯t have any problem with my lower body. Why?¡±


    Malik raised an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s just that most guys are more afraid of having their¡­ you know, lower half exposed.¡±


    Laughter rippled through the group, but Dorian just shrugged. Later, he would wonder whether his next words were fueled by alcohol or sheer stupidity, but at the moment, they spilled out unchecked.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not exactly noteworthy there¡­ Err, I mean¡ª¡±


    But it was too late. More people had tuned in, and now they were all laughing. Dorian felt his face heat to a level he was sure would melt him straight into the floor. He had nowhere to run. He could only sit and endure.


    When the laughter finally died down, he sighed. ¡°Look, all I meant is there¡¯s nothing wrong with me, alright? I¡¯m not saying I¡¯m walking around like some kind of stallion, but I¡¯ve got no shame about it. Now my legs, though?¡± He smirked. ¡°Fine set of legs.¡±


    That got another round of laughter, this time with him instead of at him. He took another drink.


    Vinny grinned, hands up in mock surrender. ¡°Nobody¡¯s laughing at your fears, Dorian, just how you said¡ª¡± He cut himself off, still chuckling.


    When the others lost interest, Vinny leaned in. ¡°So, why shirtless?¡±


    Dorian exhaled, long and slow, then grabbed his love handles, squeezing his gut forward and letting it drop. ¡°I mean¡­ look at me.¡±


    He didn¡¯t have to explain further.


    ¡°No matter what I do, no matter how hungry I go, or how many times the elders shove me on some ridiculous diet, I stay the same or gain. I just¡­ can¡¯t seem to get to a normal size.¡±


    Vinny studied him for a long moment before shaking his head. ¡°Maybe, my new friend, you were never meant to be normal.¡±


    Dorian huffed. ¡°You mean fat.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Vinny corrected, ¡°I mean big. Grand. Large.¡± He leaned forward, his voice dropping into something almost reverent. ¡°Great.¡±


    Dorian frowned, confused by the intensity in Vinny¡¯s eyes. Others around them had quieted, listening now.


    ¡°Would you believe me,¡± Vinny continued, ¡°if I told you everyone here has had a fear like yours? This little club of ours doesn¡¯t keep those too afraid to face them.¡±


    Dorian looked around. The same fire in Vinny¡¯s gaze burned in the eyes of others.


    Vinny stood and turned to the group. ¡°Why do we celebrate?¡±


    Silence. Then, from across the room, someone called out, ¡°Because of the here and now!¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Vinny grinned. ¡°Because of the here and now! At the Monastery, what do we strive for? What do we work toward?¡± His eyes landed back on Dorian. ¡°Tell me, Dorian.¡±


    Dorian swallowed, hating the attention, but the answer came without hesitation. ¡°Ascension.¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Vinny¡¯s voice was electric now. ¡°That is what we¡¯re supposed to want. That is what we are told to work toward. And for what? We push the limits of our power, reshape the very essence of our souls, all for some unknown paradise? We sacrifice the years of our youth when we should be living them. So, for those of us with the bravery, we stand in defiance to stricture of our faith! For the here and now!¡±


    The room shouted their applause, calling ¡°here and now¡± in response. The noise was so great that for a moment he worried they would get caught. Then, of course, he remembered that they were behind some serious stone walls and calmed. He was immediately pulled back to Vinny, spotting something of ritual to his voice.


    ¡°We have two newcomers tonight, and I say we grant them the earnest invitation, as they both have admitted their fears this night, on no less than their first night. There are few of us that can claim to be so brave, a rare opportunity for a trial is afoot. What say you?¡±


    ¡°Here, here and now!¡± The rest of them replied.


    As they spoke, a creeping dread began growing inside Dorian''s body. Starting from his knees all the way up it crawled, until he could see nothing but the absolute white blanket of fear. His heart rate had doubled and his mind raced with the thought of every person there laughing at him. The image brought him to an entirely different emotional extreme than the one he''d been having. Fear, unthinkable terror, A rabbit in a Kurt trap.


    A what trap?


    Something washed over Dorian then, a shift in direction. He calmed himself enough to allow the garbled noises to resume translation, trying to pick up where he left off.


    ¡°Here, here and now!¡± The crowd echoed again.


    ¡°Then it is decided, light the ceremonial incense, let¡¯s get this party started!¡± Everyone save the three Dorian had been speaking with, prior to the announcement, started moving in practiced routine. Some left the room only to return a few minutes later, others began rummaging through packs and storage boxes for supplies. While this went on, Vinny asked, ¡°Dorian, is there any chance you can dim the lights?¡±


    Thinking wasn''t one of Dorian''s abilities at that particular moment, so he simply acted. Reaching out he drew back some of the imbued Gia in the nearest Giastone. He gestured to the light, hoping it met whatever standard was used for them. Vinny said, ¡°I mean it is dimmer, but now it''s too dim. Can you simply change how bright it is without removing its... Hmm... Malik, I need a word.¡±


    Without looking away from his task, whatever it was, he said, ¡°Hue, or saturation. It seems our poet is at a loss for words.¡±


    Looking defensive, Vinny said, ¡°poetry is about passion, my love, the words are the medium by which one may express.¡±


    ¡°And sometimes I could use a few words less.¡± Malik replied, and Dorian burst out laughing.


    Vinny''s eyebrow arched as he said, ¡°watch it or you''ll be next.¡±


    ¡°Me? But I disagree to being... hexed!¡± He put a finger up, smiling for the simple fun of it.


    Vinny shook his head. ¡°I suppose hue is the word.¡±


    ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°Can you change the hue, Dorian?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah, right. A little dark to the light, Idunno. I don''t think that''s possible, but what better time than now?¡±


    ¡°Exactly, now you¡¯re getting the spirit!¡± Vinny clapped.


    In his fluctuating mind state, he wasn''t sure if he could summon any Shade, but he went for it anyways. Everything was pretty fuzzy by that point, but he found himself successful at creating an elongated teardrop roughly four feet long. He stretched to reach the nearest light, and when he tapped it there was a kind of exchange. Dorian took just a bit of the light, but the light took a bit of the dark in turn.


    ¡°There. Hued.¡± Dorian said with absolution, nodding to himself before looking back to the others. They were all staring at him, open mouthed. He could hear little whispers, things like ¡°the Grand Elder¡± and ¡°Kraken.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, what''s the big deal?¡± Despite his words, he knew. In his brashness, he had forgotten his vow to Sister Brenda. Idiot.


    ¡°Dorian, do you... Do you even have any idea what that is?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I''m more surprished you do. Hey, wanna see a trick?¡±


    ¡°No-¡± someone had begun to say, but it was too late. Dorian plunged his Shade pointer through his own gut and out of his back. Several people gasped, one person, Robes, Dorian thought, actually shrieked. For Dorian''s part, he acted as though he''d made a tragic mistake for approximately three seconds, then started laughing. He removed it with a grin, noting he had a bit more control of his mind when he grasped on to his Shade.


    ¡°Relax, it¡¯s just a goof. It¡¯s my own, you can''t hurt yourself with your own Shade. Duh-¡± he clapped his mouth shut, realizing he had no idea how he knew that. ¡°I don''t know how I know that. That''s... weird right? Next light?¡±


    Seeking the distraction, Dorian got to work changing most of the lights. Dorian had to simply dim the larger ones that were too far away for him to reach, but within a half hour the lighting had gone from properly bright to the kind of light you did shady things by. A small part of him, if any part of him could be considered such, was very happy with the deviate lighting.


    ¡°Dorian, that''s quite the gift you have there, but we should have a sober conversation later about displays of power, and how it can affect your peers.¡± Came a femininely stern, yet melodic, voice from behind him.


    Dorian replied without looking, still trying to perfect one of the lights. He was so enveloped in the task, he forgot why he was doing it to begin with. ¡°Yes, Sister Brenda, I know. Don''t show your weakness, et cetera, et cetera. But honestly, how am I supposed to get any better?¡±


    ¡°I don''t really see your point, and my name isn''t Sister Brenda-¡±


    ¡°How can you not see my point, I''m the weakest Syph or Cult to ever attend the Monastery. Which is why I''ll never get to ascend, so I guess I''m glad I''m here to-¡± as he spoke, he turned to see who he was conversing with. There wasn''t anyone there, which gave him an eerie sensation up his spine. He shook his head, which never really helped, found his drink next to his chair and promptly finished it. Wait, was that my drink?


    After a refill, some light conversation with a few people that were just as drunk as he, and accidentally flirting with Danae, he resigned himself to his chair. He never made it that far, for as he headed that direction, Vinny called out to light the incense. The pungent odor and lightheaded giddiness that washed across his mind were the last experiences he had before the night was too hazy to remember.

 Chapter 28 - Through Ash and Ice

    As our essences merged, and all the walls that protected my humanity crumbled, I held on to one ideal. Many others were sacrificed, my empathy, my compassion, and eventually even my pain became disconnected. Hurt is now a distant notion, unimportant. Now that I stand before the gates of my success, I dare not tempt the fates by placing into words that which I have held safe. But know, whomever you are that finds this, if indeed it is ever found, know that I have kept this one shred of humanity for more years than any human should have to endure. Know that it was my fortitude that gave me the courage to accomplish my task, and if I had faltered... then all the lives that came and went would have been for nothing. Our species would have found extinction a pleasant alternative to the stinking rot that has burrowed itself into my consciousness and stripped me of my sanity.


    Perhaps, I should listen to what the people say about me. Perhaps, despite my distortion, I am holy, for I am the savior of mankind.


    Note- After writing that last line, my fit lasted for three whole days. Gods, I want this to be over.


    It was three quarters of an hour before Kurt, lungs burning and world spinning, had to take a break. Quena, for her part, looked as though she could make it another three hours, even looking bemused as Kurt nearly collapsed. She was barely winded, meanwhile Kurt sounded like he was trying to suck in all the air in the valley.


    ¡°You know,¡± Kurt said, taking several breaths before continuing. ¡°You could at least act as though you were tired.¡±


    ¡°I can feel it,¡± she said, eyeing Kurt, ¡°I just don''t show it in the usual way.¡± She shrugged, looking around the ancient oak Kurt was leaning against. The storm had wavered throughout their passage, for the last twenty minutes or so the winds no longer pushed the rain in their faces. Still, the plop plop of the heavy raindrops echoed through Kurt''s head, ever pressing against his resilience. If it had been slightly warmer, he wouldn''t have cared, but as it stood it was cold enough that he could feel his nipples chafing against his leather tunic. Any colder, and my nips might cut through this stone breastplate.


    ¡°What''s with the grin?¡± Quena asked, catching him off guard.


    ¡°Oh nothing, just a funny thought.¡±


    She raised an elegant eyebrow at his comment. ¡°Care to share with the rest of class?¡± She paused, staring at him, then took her pack off. She was rummaging before Kurt replied.


    ¡°Uh, not sure you''d find it funny. You don''t seem to be the type to enjoy crude humor, err, anymore that is.¡± He looked away, anticipating her look and not wanting to tangle with it at the moment.


    ¡°Try me.¡± She said, and Kurt could feel her eyes on him.


    He sighed, ¡°it''s out of context now anyhow.¡± She sighed heavily, and Kurt put up a placating hand. ¡°All right then, don''t blow me up over it. I was just thinking that if my nipples get any colder, I''ll cut right through this stone breastplate you''ve made me.¡± He grinned, mostly because it was ill humor, but ill humor at its finest. To his surprise, she snorted.


    ¡°You''re telling me.¡±


    ¡°Pointedly, in fact.¡±


    She put a hand over her mouth as she laughed in earnest. Through her hand she said, ¡°that is highly inappropriate. It''s great.¡± They stifled their laughter for a little while, and Kurt had to take another minute or so to finish catching his breath.


    ¡°Think they''re far behind?¡± She asked when she finally found whatever it was she was looking for. It was a leather skin, smaller than any flask Kurt had ever seen. She took a sip, then visibly relaxed.


    ¡°Care to share whatever that is? I could use a pick me up at this point myself.¡± Kurt said, half joking.


    She shook her head, ¡°I don''t think it would do anything for you. It''s just minerals.¡±


    Kurt didn''t know a lot about proper nutrition, just that when he had a craving for something he should indulge, with the exception to sweets. He''d long suspected that Dorian used the same tactic, but didn''t really understand that craving sweets worked the same way as a lush at his drink. One''s body always wanted to indulge in sweets, it was immediate energy. The other things, such as cabbage, onions, citrus fruits, roots and the like, were the things to look out for. When one¡¯s body craved those things, you knew you needed something from them. Perhaps this was something Kurt understood at a subconscious level, for he''d never put words to the thought, though he believed the words to be true.


    ¡°I think you''re right. Got any meat in that pack? I left mine next to your sarcophagus.¡± He rubbed the back of his head, feeling like a fool.


    She shook her head, ¡°I''m sorry, I don''t, but are there any fruit bearing trees nearby?¡±


    ¡°Oh sure, plenty. Just passed that rise there should be a few apple trees, perhaps some bitrus plants. All we have to do is wait four months, and there should be plenty.¡± He gave her a dry look.


    ¡°Don''t forget, divine magics and the like.¡± She wiggled her fingers at him.


    Realization dawned on his face. ¡°Speaking of, care to do that trick you did earlier? I''m feeling pretty tired.¡±


    She shook her head again. ¡°I''ll start to cramp up if I do that, not worth the risk.¡± She looked about. ¡°We should get going.¡± She unbound her hair and rang it out, rebinding it afterwards. Kurt would have done the same, but his hair was was short enough that shaking it out here and there was sufficient. His head was still cold, but options as they were, he was satisficed by his current method. He stepped away from the tree and started heading over the next rise, hoping Quena wasn''t simply talking out of her backside.


    ¡°What''s a bitrus plant anyway?¡± Quena asked.


    He looked back at her, ¡°never had bitrus before? You''ll be in for a treat then.¡± He thought for a moment before he continued. ¡°Bitrus plants stand about four and a half feet high, their top bears its fruit. It will usually pop out three or four a year, they''re sweet like a berry but acidic like an orange. The skin falls away, almost like it wants to be eaten.¡±


    ¡°Why haven''t I heard of this before, that sounds delicious.¡± Quena replied.


    Thinking about it had his stomach rumbling and his mouth salivating. He was seldom deep enough in the Wilds to find any, and even knowing a few spots that they grew, it was hardly worth the trip. ¡°They don''t take outside of the Wilds, much like linewood. Something about this place makes nature extra... aggressive? Yeah, that''s the right word for it.¡± Kurt nodded to himself, continuing his trek. Part of him wanted to run, but he was tired enough at this point that simply walking was a work of labor. He thought at any moment, he''d simply divulge into an animal, only capable of one word: food. He was famished.


    Cresting the rise, the rain had let up enough that it wasn''t much more than a light mist. The mud was bad though, the whole valley was drenched, and he could hear the distant raging of rapids. In a week, they''d be gentle streams, perfect for a quick drink. What he had done earlier was one of the dumbest things he''d ever done, and he held a quiet fear of having to cross the waters again. Not that it would stop him, but he would be much more wary next time. If he had been swept away, he would have drowned, and he had little doubt about it.


    As his thoughts dwindled to be replaced with the here and now, Kurt located a young bitrus plant. A sapling, really, but hopefully it would be enough.


    ¡°Here''s one. Ready to work your mojo?¡± He looked to Quena, and she scowled back at him.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked, feeling like he''d committed some unknown impropriety.


    ¡°Mojo? I don''t work my ¡°mojo,¡± I am a master of Gia and its primal powers.¡± Her offense seemed half mocking.


    ¡°Okay then, wave your hands and say your words, whatever it is, and let me know when you''re done. I''m famished, and people stew is starting to sound less disgusting and more delicious by the moment.¡± Kurt said with laughter in his voice.


    She walked up and closed her eyes. Kurt could feel an odd hum as she stared at the plant. ¡°Where are you going to get the people for this people stew of yours?¡±


    ¡°Considering my company.¡± He left the rest unsaid, but he felt that she knew he was joking.


    ¡°Oh, I''d like to see you try.¡± She said as the humming grew to a high point. The thin plant had grown thick, they were oddly shaped for a plant. As best as he could describe it, it looked like a fully grown tree had been chopped at chest level and a bud had sprouted at the top. It unfolded, revealing the spotted blue skin of the bitrus fruit. It was roughly as thick as Quena''s leg, but probably not half so tasty.


    Kurt looked away, realizing that his people stew joke had taken a bad turn in his head. He chewed his lip, peering at the tree line for any movement. When he looked back, Quena had a bitrus fruit in each hand and a third that was about to fall off the top of the plant.


    ¡°Nice, toss me one?¡± She did, and Kurt had stripped the skin off the delicious fruit within twenty seconds. He went for his belt knife and found it to be gone. Must have lost it during this mad dash. Damn, it was a good knife.


    Quena had noted his frown as he reached for his waist. She tilted her head at him as she put one of the fruits away, then began peeling at the fruit.


    ¡°Hang on, I don''t want get over stuffed, I will if I eat this entire thing. Better to keep both and save it for when we need it. The skin is useful too, if you do it right it makes for a good lining for a water skin. I don''t know about you, but sometimes the whole leather-flavored water just isn''t appealing.¡± He smiled at her and she laughed.


    ¡°Lose something?¡± She asked, all high pitched and warmhearted.


    Kurt was sure he looked peeved as he replied. ¡°My belt knife, it was a good one too.¡± He scowled but ripped the fruit in half. The top half slanted inward, whereas the bottom was more bulbous. He didn''t feel bad as he handed her the top half, considering how much smaller she was compared to him.


    Each half sat rather like an orange had grown on top of another, and peeled away in much the same way. Demonstrating, Kurt took his portion and peeled a wedge. It was roughly as large as two of his fingers, but he was wise to how much of a mess it made. He popped the whole thing in his mouth to enjoy the wonderfully vibrant and bright flavors dance across his taste buds. She took a delicate bite, not taking the implied notion to hand, and juices erupted. The blue that stained her upper lip and the juices running down her face made for an interesting image, but her eyes danced as she chewed.


    ¡°Oh, oh my.¡± She chirped as she chewed, eyes rolling slightly. She wiped her face clear, but only with a single finger across her lower lip, flicking away the juice she found there.


    Before eating his next piece, he pointed and said, ¡°you''ve got a little,¡± and he wiped at his upper lip.


    ¡°Hmm? Don''t care at the moment.¡± She took another wedge, but this time was wizened to the experience. She popped the whole thing in her mouth and started chewing. Quickly, her cheeks bulged and her lips squeezed shut, trying not to make a mess.


    Kurt, for his part, simply couldn''t help himself. ¡°That''s a great look for you.¡± Her responsive gesture was a rude one. Suppose I deserve that.


    ¡°Come on, we''re not far off now.¡± Kurt started walking, eating another wedge. She nodded, and followed him. Part of him knew that coming to the crest of the rise would be a bad idea, even with the trees there and the overcast, a shadowy lump showing up and disappearing would be a dead give away to anyone well versed in tracking. Despite wishing to avoid it, going the long way would add some time he didn''t want to spend. Storms like this had a tendency to wax and wane, and while the rain had dwindled the wind had begun to pick up. This became more prominent as he came near the top of the rise.


    He gave the signal to hold and waited for her to catch up. She was nearly finished with her fruit, meanwhile, Kurt had eaten enough that he wasn''t full but was no longer feeling like he was starved.


    ¡°Do you see that broad tree there towards the top of this rise?¡± She nodded an affirmative though she was still chewing quietly. It looked dainty, in a way he''d never expect from the Quena he knew before she was taken. Shoving the thought aside, he continued. ¡°When we get close, we need to stay close to that tree. There are a few trees here, but with the clearing nearby, someone might be able to notice us. I''m hoping that if we are still being followed that they''re following our trail directly. Because of the mud and rain it will be hard to track us, but not impossible. So, stay close to the tree as we crest the rise.¡± She agreed, so Kurt headed towards the gnarled looking thing, its limbs twisted and distorted as though the wind at the top of the rise had warped the tree to its will.


    Coming up on it, he had to duck a thick limb that was large enough to be a tree on its own. Despite the twisted appearance, Kurt recognized it to be an oak. The top of it had been charred, likely struck by lightning. Surprisingly, the tree still seemed to be alive, and Kurt took a moment to appreciate such a sturdy plant.


    Once past the low limb, the wind picked up noticeably. At the top of a rise, wind was always present, but on a day like today it nearly knocked him off his feet. Quena felt it too, and they squat down to limit the wind''s hold on them. Looking down, he was grateful for the rocky side of the hill. Despite the cleats Quena had provided, going downhill on a muddy day was always a recipe for disaster.


    Kurt pointed to where they were heading. ¡°Do you see that rocky spot over there?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡± She was looking in the right direction but hadn''t spotted it.


    ¡°See the reflective light? I think that''s obsidian. That''s where were heading.¡±


    She perked up, ¡°obsidian? That''s fantastic.¡± She smiled.


    Curious, Kurt wanted to know more but the wind was growing intense enough that he''d have to start shouting soon. Instead, he made a mental note to ask about it later and calmly found his way down the hill. He slipped once or twice but was able to keep his balance despite the rugged conditions. Quena, however, may have walked with a certain grace, but was obviously inexperienced at hiking through the mud. She fell forward a few times, and had Kurt not been paying attention, would have washed down her bitrus with a mouthful of mud.


    She was thankful, though Kurt couldn''t really make out the words. The wind was growing ever stronger, and Kurt knew down to the pit of his gut that if they didn''t find shelter, things would get significantly worse.


    At the base of the rise, there was a decent enough path between the uphill turn of the next one that led in just the right direction, though there was a small stream forming from the excess runoff. Keeping to the side, Kurt followed it until they came past a sharp cutoff. The water ran out, turned down a ledge off to the right where their path would fork.


    Kurt held fast, waiting for Quena to catch up. He was going to point out where they would be heading but was interrupted by the worst cramp he''d ever experience. He hissed, dropping down to his knee, then on to his backside. Gripping his thigh, he found that it wasn''t a cramp, something had found its way into his leg. Looking down, he saw a darkness there shaped like a two-pronged fork.


    He concentrated, feeling that same way he had when he woke Quena. Grabbing the fork, it writhed, reforming in his hand. The teardrop shape, extended and elongated, became the lever he used to stand. With that, he found himself somewhere else...


    Moder cackled, the inhuman sound chilling the center of Kurt''s bones. The reshaped Shade rest in his hand, he held it by the base of an elongated teardrop, the end curving slightly where the loop merged together and extended as a solid for another foot or so. Kurt knew the edge was sharp like a blade, but not because he checked. He knew it like he knew the shape of his knuckles or the length of his arm. Like his entire life he had another limb, but had finally, for the first time, become aware of its existence.


    He kept his eyes on Moder, his squawking and keening echoed across the stone walls back at Kurt, leaving him unnerved and on edge. He pointed the edge at Moder, tired of running. If that evil bastard wants a fight, then I''ll give him a fight.


    A burst of black light shot out, but Kurt knew what to expect this time. He held his blade out in front of himself as he charged forward, deflecting the next bolt that flew his way. On reflex, his blade broadened, then broadened again, making a kind of forward-facing shield. It wasn''t any broader than the length of his forearm but it was sufficient to the task. The ringing noise each projectile made as it struck against his shield send a jolt down his body, he could feel the contact. He could feel the shield, as though it were really part his flesh and bone.


    Finally, he heard Moder keen, no longer slinging bolts of Shade. He threw off his robe revealing what would be a muscular physic if not for the bulges of mass that seem to writhe under the surface of his skin. Once again on an instinctual level, Kurt levered his stolen Shade, molded it to his will. He stretched it out as far as he could, but it would only go so far. More, I need more!


    He looked about frantically, but it was too late. Moder came at him with a speed that shocked Kurt''s unprepared defenses. He came in hard, hacking and twisting. Kurt, for his part, did what he could but he simply wasn''t used to a one handed weapon, and he didn''t have enough Shade to attach it. Moder came down at him in an aggressive double overhead movement. Shade held against Shade and something clicked in his mind. For the first time in his life, Kurt had to wrestle with the notion that he might fail, and it tore down every psychological wall he had built upon that building block. He felt, for a fleeting second, his will break. Something gave, he felt he was falling.


    Coming to, Kurt held tight to his thigh. He cast his sight about, looking for anything that would stick out, an outline of a person or the glowing black of Shade, anything. ¡°Quena, get down!¡± He shouted, taking a moment to make sure she had done so. She had, her body dropping like a sack of grain.


    ¡°What is it?!¡± She shouted back to him, her voice distant as the wind overwhelmed any sound that dare compete with it.


    ¡°I''ve been hit! Shade bolt! My leg!¡± Kurt yelled, though he was sure the wind would carry anything he said, the wind was with him rather than against him as he spoke.


    Something like anger shot across Quena''s face. Keeping low, she moved to Kurt''s side. Still shouting, she said, ¡°I''m going to heal you. How much further?¡±


    ¡°Not far, but I don''t know where this came from. Possibly from that rise there,¡± he pointed. ¡°I can''t be sure though.¡± While Kurt spoke, he could feel a low kind of hum coming from Quena.


    It stopped abruptly, and she trembled slightly as she stared at his hand. ¡°What is that?!¡± She shouted, outrage lining her face the way the horizon frames the sun. She was pissed.


    ¡°I can explain but not now! We need to go, can you heal me or not?!¡± He shouted at her.


    ¡°I''m trying, but you''re blocking me!¡±


    Something glowed in his periphery and Kurt moved before he thought about it. He stuck his stolen Shade in the ground and stretched its width and somehow added to it. The result was a short wall of sorts, roughly five feet across. He heard a ping and felt it vibrate throughout his wall.


    ¡°What are you talking about?!¡± Kurt shouted to Quena, doing his best to mask the alarm in his voice and failing miserably.


    ¡°You need to allow me in. You have to let down your walls, you need to relax and trust me!¡± She sounded near panic, but committed.


    ¡°Okay, okay!¡± He nodded once, shutting his eyes. He took a shuddering breath, clearing his mind. What he was really doing was something he had picked up from Master Kel. Taking long breaths, holding them in, and exhaling through the nose. All the while he meditated on soothing words, calm, serenity, relaxation, peace. He let the words fill his mind, ejecting the immediate for the world of the cerebral. He felt the hum, but this time it was louder. It filled him, from the vibrations in his rib cage down to his toes. His teeth rattled, but before he knew the wiser, slender hands were gripping his tunic.


    ¡°I''m done, I''m done! Let¡¯s go!¡± Quena said as two more pings echoed.


    Kurt opened his eyes to watch Quena summon her own Shade, crescents forming a ring around each forearm, then another set connecting the other side. Then, two front facing crescents formed, connected to the ones on her arm. From there, layers were built until she had created a kind of shield, each concentric ring extending it to the width of her arm.


    ¡°Can''t you just make armor?¡± He half shouted, the wall he had made buffeting the wind a bit.


    ¡°I don''t have enough.¡± She shook her head and Kurt came to a crouch. He grasped his shield, pulling the Shade back into himself. He didn''t understand how limited the stuff was but resigned to ask later. He split the still flowing essence into each hand, forming two separate blades.


    As the wind wall disappeared, Quena was blasted by the wind. It was strong enough that it knocked her on her rump, and she was forced to drop one of the shields as it nearly dragged her off.


    Kurt was on her quickly, however, grabbing the stone breastplate and using it as a lever to wrench her upwards. On her feet now, Kurt turned in time to see two more bolts flying in their direction. Whether it was a reflex or some other sense, Kurt attempted to parry each, and found success for the first. The second he barely touched, but it was enough to stray it from its course, which was directly at Quena''s face. Looking back, he nodded and shouted, ¡°keep pace as best as you can, I won¡¯t leave ya behind.¡± Then, once again, the world warped around him.


    He lie there on the stone floor. The stones on the ceiling no longer glowed, but the torches still burned on their sconces. He was alone, the only sound in the large room popping noises from the fires burning on. It was quiet calm, the stone floor had somehow caked around him ever so slightly giving support across his body as he slept. To his surprise, he felt well rested, if a bit hungry.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    He sat up, taking in his environs. It was still dim, the firelight casting shadows over the walls, making it impossible to find an exit. As he stretched, he had a sudden thought. How am I not dead?


    His last memory was of Moder, pale skin twisted, snarling manically. Was the bastard just playing me for a fool? Or was there something else...


    Standing, he walked across the uneven stone floor, trying to find an exit. The way the sconces were set left the walls cast in shadow,


    which made the entire room look exactly the same no matter where he looked. Even the uneven surfaces were repeated, creating a disorienting effect.


    Kurt approached the wall, and despite his close proximity, he couldn''t see a damn thing until he was just a few feet away. He reached out, running his hand along the smooth stone. He started to walk like that with his hand outstretched, using the wall as a guide. He walked the entirety of the circular chamber, or he thought he had at least, but nothing. No door, no hinges, nary even a crack in the stone surface. He walked it again, but to be sure he reached into his pocket, pulling out some string. He placed the string in the light, maybe a foot away from the edge of shadow the dancing torches created.


    He walked it again, this time feeling as though it was much longer, but still not finding anything. When he came back to the string, however, it was in a different position than how he left it. It was a light material and could have easily been moved by a bit of wind, but there wasn''t any wind in the chamber. He picked the string up and snapped off half of it with his teeth. He tied a knot in the one he left, but took the other with him. Finding one of the aforementioned cracks in the wall, just a few feet away, he lodged the other half of his string in, leaving the string out to hang. He tested it a few times to make sure it wouldn''t fall out on its own, then set off to circle the room a third time.


    This time, the trip was rather short compared to the last. He found the knotted twine and inspected it without picking it up. Running his hand along the wall, he found the next divot he was expecting, but the string wasn''t there. He looked around, running his hand along the ground in the shadows but couldn''t find it. Maybe it wasn''t the first one, and I just didn''t notice before.


    Kurt moved his hand along the wall and found another break in the stone, but once again there wasn''t anything there. Setting his jaw, Kurt continued his walk, inspecting every spot thoroughly. After some time, he found the string stuck in the crack as he had left it. Then, the tingles started, as he turned to see the knotted piece on the ground, exactly as he had left it.


    ¡°Moder! You sick twist, quite fucking with me!¡± Kurt shouted, the echo of his voice reverberated back at him several times. Fed up, Kurt started thinking of another way out, eyes scanning the walls, the ceiling, the terrain. Looking above himself, he froze, noting a particular extension to the shadow that defied how he understood light. He glared at it for a long moment, then spoke in a quiet tone.


    ¡°Do you think you''re funny?¡±


    That''s when Kurt heard a high pitched squeal followed by the grating cackle that had more in common with a rock slide than human vocal cords. The black fell away, revealing Moder. He''d been watching the entire time.


    The churning revulsion rising in his gut was a mixture of outrage and humiliation. Moder, still attached to the wall somehow, started to come down. It was an amazing trick, but Kurt thought he had the gist of what Moder was doing. The lightly glowing black that extended from behind Moder, the shape of Moder''s Shade connected in a chain that uncoiled like an expandable bellows, lowering him to the ground.


    ¡°Damn.¡± Moder said, retracting his Shade.


    ¡°Damn what, damn you? Yes, that seems the adequate response you son of a goat. Damn you to Kressor''s seventh hell.¡± Kurt said through gritted teeth.


    ¡°Oh, k-what a fine luxury that would be. If I were there, I''d have to be dead.¡± A somber smile lit Moder''s face as he closed his eyes. What is wrong with this thing?


    Moder''s eyes shot open and glared green at Kurt. ¡°No, I say damn because I lost a bet. Your little brother has great faith in you, you know.¡±


    Kurt met the glare with one of his own, shifted his head to stare back sidelong. ¡°Of course he does, I don''t expect a creature like you to understand the faith we have in each other.¡± His words were bitter, but he softened ever so slightly inside at the mention of his brother. Dorian, in a dark room, screaming in agony, and for what? This?


    ¡°I''ll let that slide, for now. You have no idea how much faith I''ve put in to the both of you.¡± He seemed to chew on his own words for a moment but went on. ¡°I lost little on this wager, but this is one that counted for little. We have one thing left before we settle for the long haul.¡± His head twisted, staring over at Kurt. Meanwhile, Kurt raised an inquisitive brow.


    ¡°Long haul?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, long haul. You''ll get a full explanation in due time. K-time,¡± Moder snorted the word, and chortled to himself. ¡°Now, do you recall what you did before?¡±


    ¡°As in?¡±


    Exasperated, Moder said, ¡°when you took my Shade for your own?¡±


    Kurt nodded. How could he forget? It was like discovering a hair caught in his throat, only to realize it was a foot long and already swallowed. The shiver that followed crawled up his spine, starting at the base of his back. Uncomfortable was an understatement. ¡°Show me that you can summon your own, and we will finish for the day. I''ll take you to your brother.¡±


    Surprise shown on Kurt''s face then. He thought for a moment, then asked, ¡°what''s the difference.¡±


    Moder''s hairless brow came together in a line. ¡°Between?¡±


    ¡°Summoning my own and taking someone else''s?¡±


    Tucking his chin, Moder''s ears twitched. He was slowly nodding as he said, ¡°where it comes from.¡± Taking a different expression, he asked, ¡°are you sure you''re your brother''s brother? K-I mean to say, I see the family resemblance and all.¡±


    Kurt cut in, ¡°what ya trying to say?¡± He was glaring at Moder before he realized what he was doing. If Kurt was being honest, pulling a gag like that on anybody would be hilarious by any standard. Still, he harbored resentment, he''d wasted hours at the expense of a practical joke. Besides, Kurt didn''t really know if he trusted the thing, it birthed other things from its flesh and sounded creepy as hell. He understood not judging based solely off appearances, but damn, this was pushing it.


    ¡°I''m saying, genetically, you got the athleticism, but not much else.¡± He smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. ¡°I''m fucking with you, little squire. I know what you mean.¡± He stepped sharply, putting one hand behind his back and the other into the air. As he began to pace slowly, he extended his pointer. The expression was comically iconic, and seeing such a thing enacted by such a thing would have made him burst out laughing... if he wasn''t the one experiencing it in real time. It was hard not to be on edge in front of Moder.


    ¡°Normally, taking Shade from another force would be impossible if one is incapable of summoning from their own source.¡± Moder spoke low, and though it seemed unnatural to Kurt''s ears, it flowed in a more human fashion. His words didn''t hit so heavily on the hard ¡°K''s¡± or ¡°T''s,¡± but instead rolled off of them.


    ¡°But you aren''t the normal case now, are you?¡±


    ¡°Source? What do you mean by that?¡±


    Moder seemed to pause in contemplation but answered soon enough. ¡°There isn''t a direct science, of course.¡± He took a long breath but continued. ¡°He always considered it as the part of you that leaves an impression on multiple planes, an answer much better than my own to be truthful. Like a fire, it burns, which gives off two byproducts. First, light, as I know you''ve seen from your brother. Second, ash, as you have wielded it just a few hours ago.¡±


    Kurt wrapped his mind around this for a moment. ¡°What about heat? Otherwise it¡¯s just a shitty metaphor.¡±


    Moder scoffed but shrugged. ¡°Perhaps we haven''t found a way to use that heat, but I suspect it¡¯s there.¡± Moder''s clawed fingers scratched at the side of his head. Despite the firelight, Kurt thought he could still see a bit of skin flaking off and floating to the ground. Disgusting.


    ¡°Back on topic now, reaching to your own reserves is tricky, for each one operates in different pathways. Gia, for most, can be channeled through your environment, so long as there is life there.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Gia can only exist in the living. This is also true to death, as death is part of life. Soil is the accumulation of countless years of erosion and decay. Stone, unless fossilized, has no capacity to hold Gia. That''s why what your brother did was so impressive. Dorian summoned wave after wave of forces, fueling himself with nothing more than the accumulated dust and unwilling spectators?¡± An expression shifted across Moder''s face then, but Kurt wasn''t sure what it was before it disappeared, replaced with a tired expression set to an alien face.


    ¡°I digress. The use of Gia in a place such as this is several magnitudes more challenging and risky. You can kill yourself if you use too much at one time, but Shade is different. Where strength in Gia requires capacity, like digging a reservoir wider to support more farms, Shade in cumulative. You gain more in one of two ways, either you steal, or you hurt.¡±


    Moder paused, as though he had just spat out something revelatory. Kurt thought on the last words, letting his mind digest them. ¡°What do you mean by hurt, exactly. I know what it is to hurt, but in what way?¡±


    Moder smiled, large nostrils flaring. ¡°Every way, but it can''t be faked. Emotional, physical, doesn''t matter, what matters is that the suffrage is real. Say you find the toughest, lethal, most heartless bastard you''ve ever heard of, and string him up with hooks. Hang him from the ceiling, perhaps? Yes, it wouldn''t be pleasant, but a person such as that has a fortitude against physical pains. The Shade yielded from such an experience would be nominal. Now, take that same person and find his or her lover? Torture them slowly in front of them? Chain them in a room where they can''t reach each other, and starve one but feed the other?¡± He paused, giving an intimidating glare. ¡°Shade flourishes like a weed,¡± he finished flatly.


    Kurt was disgusted. ¡°Lot of experience with that?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Moder gestured to himself, acting innocent. ¡°It was not I, that chain of experiments was conducted several thousand years before I was born. I wouldn''t have the stomach to.¡±


    Kurt would have instigated further, but something about Moder''s tone implied a deep sincerity. So, instead, he nodded, thinking about what Moder had said. Hurt, that made sense, but light?


    He concentrated, thinking hard on what it felt like to steal Shade. He focused his attention on that part of himself that he felt tug through his body, that sensation and where it drew from. But with hurt? Pain? He searched his memory, quickly coming to when Quena had been snatched away, the disappointment and fear on Diana''s face, her leaving him. He felt a bitter shame over the entire experience, one he had brooded on.


    Well, as long as Kurt could brood. He wasn''t prone to long stretches of the behavior, he did so until he could move on, and Kurt always moved on. That was his way, but still he had brooded over the entire experience long enough to understand his mistake. The real mistake he had made was in his overall effort at saving Quena. He could have done more, and he knew it. He thought that Diana knew it as well, but for the life of him he couldn''t simply approach her and tell her that. He let the matter drop, admitting to himself his mistake, and satisficed himself with the thought that he''d know better in the future. He also knew he owed Diana an apology the size of a redwood. Inappropriate, Kurt, he thought in a flash, but dropped that to to focus on his emotion. Hurt, pain, loss, fear, and many more, bundled in a knot, it sank like a rock to the pit of his gut. He tugged on it, a sensation mentally akin to being angry at it, and he felt it come under his control. He felt it there, like a pair of dirty boots set outside on a cold winter night. Just like the dread of putting on those frozen blocks of ice, he dreaded the feel of pulling out his Shade, for he knew that the abrasive icy chill from that knot of emotion would feel akin to ripping out his own heart.


    Gritting his teeth, he shuddered as he felt new power flow through him. The process was painful but left him feeling lightheaded and empty. Gods, is it like this every time?


    Shifting from the core of his body, resonating in waves across his limbs, vibrations from toe to fingertip. Focusing, envisioning, willing, he brought his hands together. As he drew his hands apart, his will became reality. Two units of Shade, the two teardrops stretched around each other, connecting in a way that reminded Kurt of two fat snakes eating the other''s tails. Or perhaps two Garru? Regardless, he stretched them to their maxims, until he felt his head pound and his world shake. A staff formed, hallowed through the center. It was sturdy as though it were solid, and so close to weightless that he thought it might float away if he let go. He held it there, staring at Moder.


    Moder nodded, and on cue a light shone from a distant wall. Standing there, boyish and pudgy, was his little brother Dorian. The light cast from behind him emphasized the way he stood. Dorian''s posture had always been slack, but he stood tall with his shoulders back. There was something there that Kurt hadn''t seen before, a quality Dorian hadn''t had before. Walking in, his toothy smile exiled Kurt''s doubts. Kurt couldn''t help but notice his brother had grown a few more inches, his shoulders had broadened slightly, and his hair was so obnoxiously long that he had to tie it behind his head.


    ¡°It''s bad, isn''t it?¡± Dorian sent to his head.


    ¡°I mean, you could use a trim.¡± Kurt said aloud.


    ¡°I''d do it myself, but the only way I could think of was burning it, and that stinks.¡±


    ¡°Suppose I can give ya a quick cut.¡± Kurt brandished his staff and split it, taking one in each hand. He shrank them down, until he had one surrounding his index on his right, the other on his thumb on his left. He situated the one on his left on to his right thumb and connected them. His final product was something comparable to scissors.


    Dorian stopped in surprise. He grew suddenly animate, ¡°Oh cool! Did you just do that on the spot? I think I have a lot to learn.¡± He gazed in wonder. His attitude changed quickly, however, and he looked up to Kurt. ¡°We''ll have time.¡±


    Curious, Kurt tilted his head at Dorian. ¡°You''ll see, we''re gonna enter a different time stream. It''s pretty neat, I''ve been there for a few months now.¡±


    ¡°Months? Dorian it couldn''t have been more than a few hours.¡±


    ¡°That will take some explaining,¡± chimed in Moder.


    ¡°All of this is nice and all, but can we do this with some food, maybe point me to a privy?¡± Kurt didn''t want to protest, he was happy to see his little brother, but sometimes the body will protest to the point of urgency. Urgency was roughly ten minutes off yet, judging by his own expertise. Holding a position in a tree for twelve hours a day on a regular basis had taught him many lessons, judging his bladder''s state of duress was one of them.


    Dorian groaned, ¡°Kurt, must you? This is really exciting!¡±


    Kurt nodded, ¡°I must, I must. Seriously, do you have any idea how long it¡¯s been since I''ve gone? Like, since I came down your freaky drain to get to this underground hole.¡±


    Moder chirped up, ¡°you mean our drinking water?¡±


    Eyes wide, Kurt shrugged. The sound of Moder sighing was something like the last breath of a small creature, a wheeze somewhere in there only audible at this volume. ¡°I''ll have to cleanse that. It pools shortly thereafter, it¡¯s the primary aquifer for my entire people.¡± He stormed out saying, ¡°I''ll know where to find you.¡±


    ¡°Uh, sorry?¡± Kurt said, but his apology came unanswered.


    ¡°Don''t worry about it Kurt, he really loves his children. You wouldn''t think it, but he''s not really the monster he appears to be. He''s twisted, but it was against his will.¡± A sad note to Dorian''s voice seemed to echo into Kurt, like he was catching what Dorian felt.


    ¡°That''s all right. So, privy? Kitchen?¡±


    Dorian laughed as he said, ¡°yeah, right this way my good sir.¡±


    They walked and talked of small things, as though they weren''t where they were. Dorian''s tone was jovial, and didn''t seem ill at ease in the slightest. His face didn''t pale at the sight of some of Moder''s children, though Kurt''s did. They had a hot debate about what to call them, much of Dorian''s interest in fantastic stories compelled their choices. Points were made as to whether they should be called gremlins, or trolls, or something else entirely. They decided to disagree and use the terms interchangeably until they had something better. So far, Modettes or Epidermis-lings just didn''t seem right. Later, they would decide to simply call them by their chosen name, Kul, which meant ¡°people¡± in their tongue.


    After all of Kurt''s ¡°un-pleasantries¡± were taken care of, they came through a long hallway. As they walked, a white noise began to color their ears. Faint at first, it grew louder as they went until they came to the door. When Dorian opened it, Kurt gazed upon the same kind of water working he had ridden in on. It was loud, so Dorian spoke into Kurt''s head.


    ¡°Summon some Shade, I''ll need to take over for this.¡±


    Looking warily at his brother, he did as he was asked. When he did, Dorian manifested a globe of light, sending it out like a tendril. It grew dark after a moment, then Dorian said, ¡°here we go!¡±


    Lurching forward, unsure how, Kurt found himself air born. The tendril that had connected shot wave after wave of pulsing blackness which whipped across his body, solidifying as they dropped at maddening speeds. Layer after layer was built until they were enveloped in a kind of cocoon.


    He heard Dorian whoop, and a grin flashed across his own face. They were going alarmingly fast, even if Kurt couldn''t see a damn thing. He could feel gravity pushing his body, his back cementing itself to the Shade back plate. Just when he felt something happen, a shift in air pressure and temperature, they slowed. The top twisted out, creating a kind of canoe.


    They drifted for a moment, but ran into some rocks shortly after. It sounded like glass on a chalk board, and Kurt cringed.


    ¡°Yeah, pretty rough. So, Kurt, I''ve been dying to show somebody what I''ve been working on.¡±


    ¡°Wha-¡± but Kurt cut off, as Dorian''s hand held a line of Gia. It flowed out, touching a stone on a nearby wall, starting a cascading light show that rocked though a broad domed area. It kept going, twisting with the shapes of the architecture. The sudden change in brightness blinded Kurt then, but as he blinked away the spots, what he saw shocked him. A stone palace, some kind of white stone seemed to send off a shimmer of its own and it was everywhere. The largest structure was as big as the Monastery Temple, but not in the same drab fashion. The architecture was the same, but where the Monastery next to Gwendon seemed to subconsciously denote power and control, this seemed to say power alone. It made Kurt feel hope.


    ¡°So, whatch''ya think?¡± Dorian asked, a self-satisfied smile on full display across his face.


    Taking both blades, he melded them together, forming a staff. Kurt reached out and grabbed Quena''s hand, and then they were off.


    Sinking his hand into his Shade, he gripped the base tightly, molding it around his fingers as he shrank it down. The memory resurfaced, he and his brother had worked on this. Even if he couldn¡¯t recall every detail, some things were ingrained, instinctive. He knew what to do, even if the experience of learning it was lost to him. Pressing the staff flush against his skin, he contorted it again, shortening it to a foot in length. All the while, he pumped his arms, pushing forward along the path he hoped led to safety. Unfortunately, it would take them straight past their attacker. But Kurt knew he could handle it. Two bolts reigned down, and Quena''s gate was throwing Kurt off balance. To be sure, he had to stutter-step to time his block in a comfortable position. Trial and error, Kurt. Safe than sorry.


    Three bolts came next, but Kurt felt more acclimated now. He stretched his Shade wider, solidifying a large shield. Anticipating the wind, he sharpened an edge, allowing it to catch the wind in such a way as to keep it sidelong. He managed to block all three in quick succession and thin the shield again to keep his visibility. He knew he''d be exhausted for the additional expenditure, doing this was incredibly draining, but he also knew that it wouldn''t matter if he was exhausted later if he broke an ankle now.


    ¡°Come out, we just have to get to the tree line!¡± he shouted.


    ¡°Wait, wait! I can''t keep this pace up!¡± She shouted back at him. The rocky terrain giving little to no cover from the violent winds, Kurt could barely make out what she was saying.


    Just then, a large series of bolts glimmered in the sky. Kurt had a knack for feeling them out, despite not being able to see them clearly. There was more than Kurt could count quickly. He shouted, ¡°get behind me, get down!¡± He extended the Shade out as broadly as it could go, then adding additional layers to extend it further, he planted it in the soil and lengthened it.


    The torrent of bolts came down in a flurry, buffeting Kurt''s shield as Quena crouched behind him. When they stopped coming down, he heard her shout, ¡°enough!¡±


    She stood, green light to her eyes, a whirlpool of light surrounded her, from her center flowed a stream of black, then her bolts began to release. Each shot out, but was followed by a deep thud, and seemed to propel themselves at unbelievable speeds. Despite the current climate, the sounds of trees snapping echoed through the wind, a deep sound that vibrated an uncomfortable part of his eardrums.


    He took a moment to gather the Shade bolts, stealing them for his own. Quena looked at him incredulously, and he replied with a guiltless shrug. Her loss, he thought as he found four more. He consolidated them and took them. This time, however, a memory stemmed in his mind.


    ¡°Oh shit, Quena! We have to move!¡±


    She looked at him incredulously. Kurt grabbed her by the hand and tugged her along. She seemed resistant at first but finally decided to pick up her pace. He let her hand go so they could move faster, as he did he shouted out to her. ¡°There''s two more up here.¡± Then the wind just stopped, the abrupt shift making him stop in turn. Quena had already fallen behind and was several strides behind him now. The sun broke through a break in the clouds, but only enough to feel disheartened by the vast blanket of black that coated the sky. Shit.


    ¡°Quena, we''ve got something real bad coming our way. We have to get cover now, and I know there are two waiting for us just behind the tree line. I''d tell you more but we don''t have the time, we have to go.¡± Kurt was calm in the telling but was deadly serious as he spoke. She held his eye but nodded.


    ¡°Give me a second, I-¡± A distant sound started, echoing around them. ¡°Scratch that, Quena, we just have to get passed them. Trust me when I say run for your damn life!¡± To illustrate the point, he turned and got the hell out of there.


    Kurt quietly snickered to himself as he ran, imagining the look on her face. If they lived, he''d probably never be able to look at her again without envisioning her shock. A half second after this thought crossed his mind, he heard her curse, then the sound of feet clomping in a rhythm similar to his own. The tree line was coming close, he readied his own Shade. Instead of following the trail, he veered at the last moment, cutting over a few trees in the column. To his surprise, there was a man crouching right there, just off his new path. He was staring at the tree line, holding a sphere of power in his hand. He was fully immersed in whatever exercise he was at, so Kurt forged his black staff, and bashed the man in the head. The man dropped to the ground.


    Looking up, he spotted another green light across the way. Quena was running in just behind where Kurt would have walked in. He took two strides, raised a hand, and-


    It had been months since Dorian and he had come to Chateau Dorian. The childish title for such a grand place was downright stupid, but he let it fly for now. Dorian was coming into his power, in more ways than one. Kurt watched as Dorian sculpted, shifted, tore down and rebuilt whole structures. Heat treating some places, growing trees to harvest the sap at alarming rates, harvesting the wood when he had finished, and creating furniture out of a solid tree trunk. He said he couldn''t manipulate the wood directly, but he could create brands of heat so intense it would separate the pieces. He''d then reprocess the wood in a massive stone tumbler until it was a very fine mulch. He''d use this to ¡°Cultivate¡± vegetables or plant more trees. This was only the beginning.


    Kurt watched as Dorian managed to do the work of an entire village in a day. He wondered why something like this wasn''t happening everywhere, why the entire valley didn''t prosper? But he knew that all ready, control.


    ¡°Is he really that bad?¡± Kurt had finally asked, early morning one day.


    ¡°Who? Moder?¡± Dorian replied as he ate a freshly flashed apple, then tossing another to Kurt. He took a bite, and it was deliciously sweet.


    ¡°No, the Elder, is he really worth all this?¡± He gestured around, ¡°why are you doing this, anyways?¡±


    ¡°Moder says it had to be massive in scale, something that would allow me to stretch my abilities.¡± He took a breath and tossed the rest of his apple. It puffed away to cinders, then he picked another. ¡°And yes, he is. I don''t know everything, but I got enough of his memories from the Great Bear we saw. There''s a time stream around the whole valley.¡±


    Kurt looked inquisitive, and Dorian continued before Kurt could ask. ¡°It''s like a bubble that can''t be stopped by anything. It penetrates anything, including stone. We''re actually under the real Monastery right now. It''s under the mountain. The big building they have is just a front.¡± He was staring down at his apple, concentrating. It exploded, spraying molten apple everywhere. Dorian hissed, but came back quickly, his face not showing a single mark. ¡°It still hurts,¡± Dorian scowled, then picked another apple. ¡°Time slows or speeds up, and there can be bubbles inside of bubbles, but they have to be exact. Imperfect bubbles can have varying effects, but usually they''re pretty volatile. That''s not the dangerous part though, it¡¯s the edges. It¡¯s why we can''t leave the valley, you''d age to dust just trying to cross it, especially if you didn''t know what you were doing. I don''t know if anyone could, really.¡±


    He stopped, grinning like a fool and tossed an apple to Kurt. ¡°I think it''s perfect, have a try.¡±


    Kurt took a bite to find that just below the skin of the apple, it was partially baked. It was fantastic. Dorian had another in his hand and was concentrating again. ¡°He''s keeping us here for something, I don''t know, but he needs people to die.¡± Looking up, he tilted his head back and forth, ¡°or rather, he needs people to live and die. The entire valley is shaped like a funnel, Gia doesn''t act like this normally, but whatever is at the base of the drain, it¡¯s sucking in Gia like a pump. Whatever it is, the old sob is close to a tipping point or something. He''s going to do something, Kurt, and whatever it is... I just don''t trust it. He''s capturing people like me to slap them in a time bubble, so they grow faster. He harvests them, Kurt. How could any ends justify those means?¡± Dorian took a bite of his own apple, suddenly delighted. ¡°Want to spar again? Show me that neat trick you did yesterday,¡± he said, gesturing them to the courtyard. Kurt was more than happy to oblige him. It was one of the few things left that Dorian couldn''t do as well as Kurt.


    Kurt was suddenly back to himself. Gods be damned, Dorian. This is really inconvenient! Reaching his hand out, he cast forth a funnel of Gia. Seven tendrils shot from his hand, forming the jagged teardrop on broad display at the edge of his cone. He spun it, creating a whirlwind just in time to begin deflecting and absorbing the Shade bolts being shot at Quena. She had already leaped back, falling flat on her derriere. Kurt kept forward, and before the man knew what was going on, he was struck. The edge of the whirlwind may as well have been razors for the sheer gore it brought. After he saw the first limb fly like a rock out of a sling, Kurt had to look away.


    ¡°That''s not possible.¡± Quena said, barely audible over the more prominent white noise. A cold sweat ran down Kurt, and he ran. ¡°Boulders just ahead! Hope your mojo is good to go!¡±


    A feral yell echoed behind him, and she caught up in a flash. ¡°Don''t think this is the end of this.¡± Oh, that didn''t sound good, he thought sarcastically. He really didn''t care at the moment. The sounds of trees popping started sounding, and Kurt knew it was close. ¡°Just there!¡± He shouted out of breath, pointing an exhausted hand.


    ¡°I see it!¡± She shouted. ¡°I''m going to move ahead, make us a clean overhang for now.¡± Kurt nodded.


    Just as she had left, the first of the melon-sized hailstones landed near him. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!


    Kurt kept to the places that had more boughs overhead, hoping any deterrent was better than nothing when dealing with seventy pounds of hurdling ice. He ran like he never had before, he had heard rumors of storms such as these, but prayed he''d never have to weather one. They were like rolling catastrophes, and there were scarce reports of people surviving them outside.


    The next one fell, then another. One came close and he had to dodge, which caused his opposite side to be struck. It hurt, but he didn''t have time to check, he was running pell-mell for Quena. Looking up, his periphery was consumed by falling masses comprised of tree limbs and exploding ice.


    He kept at it, knowing his speed was all he had at the moment. The hailstorm would be denser the further he fell behind, he knew, and he''d be ground to a fine dust by the time the storm passed. The sound of his heaving lungs stole most of his concentration, his heels never touching the ground. Quena grew closer with quickness, and just when he thought he''d get struck any second, Quena produced a long overhang. Diving, he slid to a halt, landing just in front of Quena, who was still silently working her mojo. He took a long shuddering breath, and the sound of the storm around them became a distant concern.

 Chapter 29 - Weight of Fear

    My limitations are always expanding. Once, when I was still young, I could only handle a tenth of the Kraken within my system before dipping into madness. Now, I find myself capable of holding much more before my grip on reality slips. Forcing it onto other creatures has been the only way to keep myself from turning into a bubbling mess, a pity they don''t understand the gifts I give them.


    His first fleeting moments of consciousness were of Malik holding a black liquid out to Dorian. He had dipped his fingers in and let droplets fall on to Dorian''s face, allowing the world of pain that was the morning to greet him as unkindly as a winter''s first chill.


    ¡°Drink it, all of it my friend, or the day you have will be a day to regret.¡± Malik said, holding the cup out to Dorian. The light was bright, so Dorian kept his eyes slit. Taking the cup, he downed the drink and dropped back, resting his head on something soft, he fell back into a dreamless sleep in no time flat.


    The morning he deserved wasn''t the one that greeted him, instead he woke up softly. For all intents there may as well have been someone playing a gentle flute while frying bacon. He felt great, it beat the blackened hell out of waking to the Giastone lights, violently bright and unrelenting as they were. He opened his eyes to see the ceiling of a chamber, though it wasn''t the chamber he last remembered. Above him, in odd imitation of a sunrise, a faintly warm light had begun to fill the chamber illuminating several others that had yet to stir. Looking down, to his horror, he was down to nothing more than his small clothes, specifically, just his knickers. By the gods, what have I done?


    Dorian''s face had already flushed, and he reached about searching wildly for his clothes. He found his undershirt, thank the Gods, but couldn''t find anything else. Malik was standing by the doorway, yawning unabashedly.


    ¡°You were quite the animal last night, Dorian of the Light.¡± He smiled at the end then yawned again. Dorian was still flustered, looking back where he slept, he finally noticed that there were several people still sleeping. His jaw dropped, not sure if he should be horrified or awed, so he threw on his shirt with quickness, nearly fleeing out the door Malik stood by.


    ¡°Kressor''s rotten breath, what in seven hells happened last night?¡± Dorian asked as Malik gently closed the door after him.


    ¡°Hmm? No need to curse, Dorian, everything is fine. Welcome to the club.¡± Malik smiled toothily, a bit of mischief lighting his eye.


    ¡°That''s not an explanation, by the Gods I''ve been made the fool, again.¡± The words came out of his mouth without being processed, straight from the gut out of his mouth. It was because of his lack of filter that he hadn''t processed the words before saying them, and now his mind raced with suspicion. Narrowing his eyes at Malik, Dorian asked, ¡°what did you do?¡±


    Looking innocent, Malik gestured to himself. ¡°Me? I''ve done nothing, you on the other hand...¡± he tapered off, the quirk of a grin lining the corner of his mouth.


    ¡°Malik, I''m not one to get angry.¡± Dorian held Malik''s eyes for a moment, letting his statement sit for a spell. Without thinking the glow returned to his eyes, and he could see the streams of Gia surrounding Malik. They softly flowed in and out of Malik''s head and spine, though a small amount flowed around him. As he watched, almost like the white cap of a wave, Gia coalesced around Malik and broke in his direction. For a moment, Dorian considered if he could blow it, but let it go, allowing Malik to form a mental link with him.


    ¡°Let¡¯s avoid getting hasty, Dorian. I know how you''re feeling, we all had the first night before.¡±


    ¡°Explain.¡± Dorian wasn¡¯t sure why he felt so confident, but he did.


    That God''s forsaken smile lit Malik''s face, Dorian was beginning to like it less and less.


    ¡°It was an initiation, we started spiking your drinks with the heavier stuff pretty early on, keeps the new people brave. Once you''ve faced your fears, you''re in. I can''t show you the whole night, but I will show you some.¡±


    Before Dorian had a second to protest, images started reeling across his mind. Danae dancing with the other girl, Dorian standing beside the pool stripping his shirt off but so scared he covered his body in light. His Gia receding and the crowd cheering him on, a beautiful woman pulling his near naked body into the pool, everyone jumping in after him and more beyond. There was music, dancing, drinking, games, conversation, and laughter. In every image, if Dorian hadn''t been obviously terrified, he had been smiling and laughing. The last image that was sent was of someone surprising him with a sudden kiss. They had been dancing as though they were at the autumnal festival, Dorian laughing as he did.


    Dorian flushed again. Oh shit, that was my first kiss, that was my first kiss, and I don''t even remember it!


    Malik''s eyebrow shot up, and Dorian realized too late that they were still mentally linked. ¡°Oh really? Your very first? Oh, how delighted she will be when I tell her.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn''t dare.¡± Dorian said as his eyes opened so wide that they likely resembled plates more than anything else.


    ¡°Oh, I would, I don''t keep anything from her, she''s my bestie you know.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, who is she?¡±


    Malik laughed and started walking. Dorian hurried after him, trying to cut him off, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Malik beat him to it.


    ¡°Today isn¡¯t going to be easy for you. I haven¡¯t seen the other six who won earlier this week since they started training, but I have a rough idea. You¡¯d better hurry, or you¡¯ll be late.¡±


    ¡°Malik, this isn''t you running from this conversation, is it?¡±


    Malik smiled, bobbing his head left and right. ¡°Yes and no, I''d explain it all to you, but the memories will come back over time, I won''t have to explain a thing if I just wait a week, and hopefully you''ll be in better spirits by then. Not much of a morning person, are you?¡±


    Dorian opened his mouth to speak but found that he had no argument against that. He was a wretched ass in the morning.


    Sighing in defeat, Dorian just asked, ¡°what do you know about the training?¡±


    ¡°All I know is that Brother Michael isn''t a patient man, and that you should be back this day next week. After that, your guess is as good as mine.¡± Malik shrugged, then added, ¡°until you come back and tell me all about it.¡± He smiled then, saying, ¡°if I were you, I''d be hurrying. Everything else will be here when you get back, good luck Dorian of the Light.¡±


    With that, Malik turned on his heel, heading to the nearest room, presumably waking others in the same fashion in which he woke Dorian. Turning, Dorian found the door that led to Malik''s quarters and gasped. Looking down at himself he shouted, ¡°where are my pants?!¡±


    A soft reply echoed through his mind. ¡°On the way out, next to the door. Good luck, Dorian.¡±


    Dorian hurried, throwing on his pants and running off barefoot. Judging by the glow of the Giastone in his chamber, Malik was right. Dorian was going to be late.


    Huffing and puffing, Dorian found himself nearly stumbling through the gymnasium doors. Brother Michael and two others were there chatting idly before they looked up to see Dorian wheezing.


    ¡°It''s okay¡± he said between breaths, ¡°I made it.¡±


    The other two didn''t even acknowledge him but Michael did. He smiled, waving him over. Dorian took a moment to steady his breathing, filling his lungs to near bursting before letting it out. It didn''t help, he was still panting as he approached the Brother of the Path.


    ¡°I was afraid you wouldn''t show, glad you made it Dorian.¡±


    ¡°Thank you Bro- Michael. I think I''ve gotten my cardio in for the day, so I should probably just head to class, right?¡±


    ¡°Nice try, but no. These are the other two from your class, the other six have already had some time and need a break anyway. If everyone is ready, lets be off.¡±


    ¡°Off to where, Brother Michael?¡± Asked a tall and lithe woman, he was pretty sure it was Alexandria Cutter, one of the tallest in their class. She had dark hair and eyes with pale skin and stood an incredible six foot and three inches.


    ¡°That''s a fine question, and one I won''t be answering aloud. Come along.¡±


    Brother Michael led them to the storage closet, then illuminated it. Giastone glowed, revealing a mostly empty closet that ran the better part of eighty feet in length. Broad enough for ten to walk through side by side, they were far from cramped as they came to the back of the room.


    ¡°I hope it goes without saying, but none will speak of what they see here. You will understand more as your abilities bloom, but for now, you will not ask questions. You will listen when instructed, and we will all get through this safely.¡± Brother Michael put his hand up and closed his eyes, summoning Gia, he funneled it into two separate spots, then waited. The stone began to shift, but not as though someone were shaping it. The back wall of the room began sliding, making a grinding noise that reminded him of nails on a chalkboard. Doing his best not to wince at the grated sound, Dorian watched as the wall as it slid away, revealing a tunnel. When the stone had come to rest the sound of water began echoing through the once quiet chamber.


    ¡°Stand close, initiates. We''re in for one hell of a ride.¡± Shade broke free of Brother Michael''s body, quickly it created a shell around them as they all stepped toward him. Then, with a lurch, they were off.


    The blackness that denied all sight did little to prevent Dorian from feeling his guts drop. He could tell that they were moving at great speed until they passed through something. Once they had, everything slowed gradually until they came to a stop. The top of the dome seemed to melt away, and after being light blinded, it seemed as though they were outside. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he wasn''t outside, but that the Giastone shone the exact same color as the sun. For all that, it still felt like they were outside. Michael¡¯s Shade boat was toting them to the edge of the underground stream, coming to the bank, they got out one at a time.


    ¡°This is going to be your training grounds. This was crafted a long while back but only used under extreme duress. Do any of you know what this is.¡±


    ¡°A significantly larger gymnasium?¡± Dorian asked, because that''s all it seemed to be. There were buildings and doorways about, however, which had Dorian¡¯s curiosity piqued.


    ¡°Yes, it is that, but much more. I''ll give you the tour while your peers ready themselves to go up. Come this way.¡± The Brother gestured, leading them around the gymnasium. It was massive, with all sorts of various equipment. There were softly padded mats covering an entire section, gymnastics courses, a swimming area, an area for resistance training, and so much more. There weren''t, however, any grandstands. This place was for training purposes only.


    ¡°As you can see, you will have plenty of ways to train. I know it may seem a bit extreme, but our Grand Elder doesn''t like the idea of his own team being bested. Yes, yes, technically there are no teams in The Valley, but he likes to believe that the best of the Valley end up at the Monastery.¡± Dorian had gotten distracted by some of the pulley systems in the resistance area but was drawn back to what Michael was saying. ¡°You will have trainers, I myself will be one of them, and you will train here for a total of a month before a two-week break. During that two-week break, you are to attend classes and catch up over the week you''ve missed.¡±


    The other boy, Dorian thought his name was Gavin, finally spoke for the first time. ¡°But Brother Michael, I thought you said we''d be here for a month at a time, not a week. How are we to keep up with classes?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. You''ve heard of those that can create a time bubble, yes? I know we don''t speak of it much, but it is one of the most dangerous Primes, especially if you don''t know what you''re doing. The time bubble we entered covers this entire gymnasium and is a potent one at that. Every month here is only a week there, just as the Monastery slows things for us as well, you will have more time to mature here. To hone your skills and prepare yourselves. You will technically be in your eighteenth to nineteenth year by the time the Grand Tournament begins, just as those you compete with will be at the same age. Now, let me show you to your quarters.¡±


    The following two hours were spent on exploration and explanation. Dorian''s quarters were downright lavish compared to the small cots he''d slept on since he could remember, the bed was a massive four posted monstrosity. He had a full closet of additional clothes, practice tunics, bed clothes, small clothes and the like. Whether it was someone''s cruel joke or not, Dorian appreciated the fact that they all had been bleached bone white. Maybe I am getting some notoriety after all.


    They had their own kitchen, fully stocked, with two kitchen aides who rotated on a month-long shift with two weeks off. Each room had a private bath, but everything else was communal. There was a study area with a decent selection of books, which sent shivers down Dorian¡¯s spine as he remembered the journal he was afraid to read. The recreational area wasn¡¯t much, just a large room with luxurious chairs, but Dorian figured he would make good use of it.


    Coming back to the gymnasium, Brother Michael had gathered the other six initiates and several others that Dorian hadn''t recognized. There were roughly sixteen people there, all lined up next to the water..


    ¡°Please, make yourselves at home. I''ll give you all a few hours to prepare yourselves and get to know each other. When I come back, I''ll have your cooks and sparring partners. To the rest of you, I hope you''ve enjoyed your stay. You go back to normal life for the next week. Group one from the east will come back next, group two from the west will be next to swap in, group three from the south will be after them. If everyone will gather round.¡±


    Brother Michael crafted another boat of Shade, and they all climbed aboard. The current of the stream carried them along for a short time before the top of the vessel closed off. Then they seemed to shimmer as they came to the far wall, a spot Dorian hadn''t seen before opened and they shot upwards like a spitball through a straw.


    ¡°Whoa.¡± Dorian said aloud.


    ¡°So, now what?¡± Asked Gavin.


    Alexandria turned and began walking away.


    ¡°Hey, what gives?¡± Gavin asked.


    She didn''t even turn as she said, ¡°I don''t care what you guys do, I''m going to my chambers and getting some much-needed sleep.¡±


    Dorian looked over at Gavin, who looked right back at him. They both seemed to have the same revelation, that she had damn good point. Turning, they left each other to enjoy some of the finer things, like private baths and overlarge beds.


    Part of Dorian knew, without a doubt, that he was sleeping. Another part understood that what he was seeing wasn¡¯t a dream but a remembrance. He was euphoric. Between the drink and the vapors in the air, he didn¡¯t just feel great, he felt divine. It was as if he were no longer bound to the earth, drifting instead among the clouds, or perhaps the stars. Maybe this was why they called it a high.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Vinny was babbling something, but Dorian wasn''t registering a bit of it, too enveloped by the ball of warmth that started in his gut and pulsed through his entire body. With the lights dimmed down everywhere, it was hard to tell where Vinny even was, but no matter. He had his drink in his hand, and at that moment he really didn''t care for much else.


    For whatever reason, someone was shaking his shoulder. Looking around, he didn''t realize who before Vinny spoke directly to him. ¡°Dorian, would you be so kind as to illuminate that one crystal?¡±


    Looking to Vinny, he saw where the man was pointing and did so. He took a drink, wanting to apologize for not paying attention, but too bashful to cause further interruption. When he felt the eyes leave him, Vinny called out again.


    ¡°Brian, something with some life!¡±


    A fast-paced diddle started to echo from the amphitheater, until Dorian realized he recognized it. He didn''t know where he knew it from, but it spoke of the vibrancy of life, an ode to living in the moment. Dorian found himself clapping to the beat, and the others joined him. As the tune continued, he realized that there should be accompanying words. In his mental state, short as it was at that moment, he didn''t even think before acting. His brain had decided that there was a void. He started to sing, and to his surprise the rest sang the words in time.


    Oh, if you think this winter chill


    Could ever keep me from my will


    Or stop my legs from dancing still


    Hurrah-den, hurrah-den,


    Gods, it''s great to be alive.


    Dorian noticed the way everyone¡¯s eyes lingered on one of the girls from earlier. By the gods, did I accidentally flirt with her?


    Still, he kept singing, his voice blending with the chorus as the sound rumbled through his chest.


    When winter winds begin to bite


    And you''ve got your eye set right


    Just take her hand and spin her light


    Hurrah-den, hurrah-den,


    Gods, it''s great to be alive.


    As Dorian sang, Danae, he remembered her name now, grabbed Cora and spun her. The crowd erupted in cheers, clapping in time with the rhythm. Dorian couldn¡¯t look away. The two girls, flushed and grinning madly, danced together, their movements full of wild, carefree energy. Something about the sight stirred something deep within him. A longing, a need, a desire to cast off all inhibitions, to show the world who he was and be free for it.


    His heart dropped as realization washed over him.


    ¡°The kiss!¡± someone in the crowd shouted.


    Another voice joined in, this time high-pitched. Then another. Soon, the chant became a roar, a fevered demand rolling through the room.


    Finally, Cora leaned in, pressing her lips to Danae¡¯s. The crowd erupted. The song broke off, drowned by the sheer force of their cheering, so loud Dorian was sure they had to be shaking the very walls.


    Then Vinny¡¯s voice cut through the noise, loud and triumphant. ¡°Welcome! Welcome! You¡¯ve passed! Meet our newest member!¡±


    The crowd erupted, and Malik sent to him, ¡°lights on, Dorian.¡± Dorian did so, with as much haste as he could manage. He was going to have to teach them how to adjust the lights themselves, he didn''t want to get stuck with the detail.


    There was some kind of drink that Vinny offered to Danae, she drank, and everyone clapped. Finally, Vinny said, ¡°and now, our second trial for the night.¡±


    Oh gods, I don''t think I can do this.


    With a jolt, the sound of someone shouting nearly tore him from his bed.


    ¡°Dorian! Alex! Gavin! Up, up, up! Now initiates, move!¡± It was Brother Michael, and something about how the man barked sent hot ice up his spine. He shot up, still barefoot, and came into the middle hall. It was large enough to be considered a chamber, but there wasn''t anything there, no features save for plush carpet rugs covering most of the white stone floor.


    ¡°Stand tall! In line, right now! That means you, Dorian! Don''t just stand there like a turkey in the rain! Line! Now!¡±


    Gavin snorted, he was standing next to Alexandria, both holding similar stances. Michael shot a glare at Gavin before shouting, ¡°Some time today, Dorian!¡± Dorian ran over, assuming the same posture as the others, shoulders back, chest out, chin leveled to the floor.


    ¡°Today, you''ll meet the sparring partners I''ll be bringing with me each day for practice. They will leave with me most of the time. When they stay, they will tutor you. You are to take to their instruction, and if I hear a word to the contrary, Gwendos himself won¡¯t stay my wrath. Do you understand?¡±


    All three gave a half-hearted ¡°yes sir,¡± though it was out of sync. Brother Michael lifted a brow momentarily, but let it pass.


    ¡°They won¡¯t be your only sparring partners, you will spar with one another, and there will be others I bring down on occasion. I will not be your only coach.¡± As he spoke, he began to pace back and forth in front of them with his hands behind his back. ¡°But I will be your primary coach. Before the Grand Tournament begins, you will age beyond your peers by more than a year. If this is something you can''t abide, speak now.¡±


    No one said anything. If anything, Dorian was happy to catch up to Jack. The pair could both be meatheads, but Jack always had the upper hand physically. If not for the half year in age he had on Dorian, then for the fact that the man was undoubtedly through puberty and then some. Dorian, on the other hand, barely had stubble lining the underside of his jaw, his voice still squeaked, and he was sure he hadn''t grown to his full height.


    ¡°All right. We start downstairs, light jog, follow me.¡±


    They did. Dorian followed immediately behind Brother Michael, the others plodding behind him. Out of the front of the sleeping quarters, they turned right down the hall, following it for about eighty or so yards before coming to an open archway. The stairs heading down seemed ominous, but as they grew closer, they slowly lit a dim green. There was a slightly damp smell, the smell of sweat that had dried countless times had somehow impregnated the stones to a degree that no substance on earth or heaven could lift it. They came to larger room, maybe forty yards squared, but with a vaulted ceiling. The ventilation into the room came from eight large circular holes in said ceiling. The stagnant sweat stink wasn''t prominent here, and he would have sighed in relief if he hadn''t been trying to suck in every bit of air he could. He was extraordinarily out of shape.


    Stepping into the room through two broad open doors, he noticed the shift in flooring. It wasn''t cork, or if it was it was a kind he was unfamiliar with. It was more padded than the cork that Sister Brenda Culted onto the gymnasium floor, and it seemed to have more spring to it as well. It had a solid surface, unlike the cork, but had the same color. He wondered idly how much alteration was required just to get the cork to grow flat rather than the natural oak tree it should be, let alone alter it enough to make the cork so rubbery. Maybe mix the two, getting the cork oak to exude the same sap as the the rubber tree and puncturing the heartwood? He shook his head from his musings as Brother Michael gestured to the group of them and said, ¡°be seated over there. You all know the stretches, lets go.¡±


    Dorian did, starting with his hurdler''s stretch. As he went through the routine, Brother Michael half lectured, half instructed. He walked around them pointing out when they could stretch deeper or when they were cheating themselves by doing the stretch poorly.


    ¡°When you stretch, you push your limitations. The only way to transcend those limitations is by existing there. Once those bounds become the norm, you establish new ones, and onward.¡± He came around as Dorian was reaching for his toes. ¡°Don''t just reach, you get a better stretch if you keep your chest out and your back straight. Even if you can''t reach your toes that way, it doesn''t matter.¡± He stood and Dorian did as instructed, feeling the long stretch up his legs, through his hips and up his spine. He was right, it was a better stretch.


    ¡°The point is, be uncomfortable. Nobody in history or before ever did something great without great discomfort. The greatest to ever enter the arena did so, not because of their talent. Talent is what the Gods have given you. Alex, if I catch you bobbing like a bird again, I''ll douse you in tar and feathers! Now, talent is what you have naturally. Your foundation is comprised of your natural gifts, your ability to learn and your athleticism. You can grow in skill without these things, but you will never be the best. A master of all techniques can do some amazing things, as can those with an aptitude towards their bodies, but the best, the next champion of the Valley, will always be the one that finds harmony between these facets.¡±


    Dorian wanted to say something, and nearly did so, but decided against it.


    An eyebrow went up, nearly meeting Brother Michael''s short cropped hair. ¡°Something to add, Dorian?¡±


    Dorian was still stretching, but asked, ¡°wasn''t there a Valley champion that only had one arm?¡±


    Michael chuckled softly, though it was low and gruff. ¡°So, you''ve heard of that one? I''ve always fancied the legend of the wanderer myself. Even if it''s true, do you think he didn''t exercise? Expand on his own natural capabilities, I''d wager every Vega to my name that he worked his body harder than anyone else had, and his unique techniques were estranged enough to his competitors to give him the edge he needed to succeed.¡± He chuckled again, ¡°where did you hear about Ohmer the one-armed wanderer anyway?¡±


    Something integral, something Dorian could always remember having but never touched nor prodded, stirred. It was there, surrounding the center of his own being, sleeping. Like when someone wakes momentarily, says something, then falls asleep again, it moved. A flush of heat ran through Dorian. He had no idea how, but he found himself hugging his knees. His chin was tucked, protecting his neck, and his face was contorted into a rictus snarl.


    Tilting his head, Brother Michael said, ¡°Dorian, what''s wrong?¡± He took a step towards Dorian, but Dorian didn''t hear the words. He heard animal noises, grunts and ogling, and nothing more. When Michael stepped, a low growl emanated from Dorian''s throat.


    ¡°Dorian?!¡± Michael barked, something about his tone pulled Dorian back to the fore.


    Like breaking the surface after a great dive, Dorian was himself again. He turned his head, closing his eyes, trying to recall what Brother Michael had asked him.


    ¡°I don''t know, Brother Michael, I just heard the story somewhere.¡±


    Giving Dorian an inquisitive look, he drew out the word, ¡°right.¡± Brother Michael took a breath and returned to address them all. ¡°Which reminds me, when we are here, on these proving grounds, you will address me as Master, and in this place, I am law. When I speak, you do, any inclination to do otherwise will be met with harsh consequences.¡± His face was stern for a moment, then he smiled. ¡°I think its time I introduce you to the circuit. Initiates, lets see how much you like to run.¡± His smile wasn''t comforting in the least.


    The circuit was a brutal maze of tunnels, designed to confuse, exhaust, and break anyone running through it. The worst part? Staying in one spot for more than a few seconds made the lights flicker out. If you didn¡¯t enter the next area with enough speed, the lights wouldn¡¯t turn on at all. And if you lingered too long, the entire chamber would start to vibrate, a sensation Dorian couldn¡¯t make sense of.


    Despite the fire in his lungs and his inability to catch his breath, curiosity still clawed its way to the surface. He tried using Giasight, his personal term for summoning Gia over the lenses of his eyes, but found he couldn¡¯t. Whether the chamber was warded or he was simply too exhausted, he couldn¡¯t be sure. What he was sure of was that Michael as a ¡°coach¡± was far more twisted than he¡¯d expected.


    The tunnels felt warded, much like the Grand Elder¡¯s journal, and that realization made his skin crawl. No, more than that, it terrified him. When the lights went out, it was nearly unbearable. The only mercies were the soft padding beneath his feet and the absence of sharp turns. Everything else was a daily, waking nightmare, one he would be forced to endure over and over.


    He would do it. But he didn¡¯t have to enjoy it.


    When Dorian finally found his way out, as Alex and Gavin left him in the dust, Brother Michael was there with water.


    ¡°Oh, by the Gods, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Coach or not, I''ll toss you in the Rock for poor language, Dorian.¡± He said as he handed Dorian a bucket of water. It was fresh, cool, and delicious. He drank his fill and followed by pouring some water over his head to wet down his hair. He hadn''t cut his hair in a long time, and even his usual chin length would likely be too long now that he''d have to exercise like this regularly. His shaggy mane provided too much insulation now, and if he could, he would have shaved his head on the spot.


    ¡°The others?¡± Dorian said between breaths.


    ¡°Still catching their breath in the main sparring chamber. Come along.¡±


    Dorian followed dutifully, and though he had lost most of the contents of his stomach throughout the circuit, it churned now in anticipation.


    ¡°Hello, Dorian.¡± Came a lilting feminine voice.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Dorian said aloud. Michael gave him an odd look.


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, uh, sorry sir. Nothing.¡±


    When they entered the chamber, the other two had apparently gotten restless. There was the distinctive clack clack of battle staves rounding against each other. As Dorian caught sight of them, Alexandria hopped over a low swing and rebounded, twisting in midair, she landed a solid thrust against Gavin''s torso.


    ¡°Two points and cut that shit out. You wanna spar and get yourself hurt, do it on your own time.¡± Brother Michael said. For a Brother of the path, he wasn''t really all that saintly. Sure, he wore the robes but only on formal occasions. He was usually in a tunic, and if not for his age, he''d blend right in with the rest of the initiates just fine.


    ¡°In line behind Dorian here, follow me.¡±


    They left at a jog, running through the halls at a brisk pace. Dorian had just caught his breath, but surprisingly the jog wasn''t nearly as rough as it was on the way down. They went up the stairs, back to the main gymnasium. There was a track with a large area in the middle for gymnastics, but beyond that there was another room Dorian hadn''t investigated yet. They ran through the doorway and what Dorian walked in to was nothing short of a gift from the Gods.


    ¡°Resistance training. This is more of Dorian''s domain, but worry not my ill-fated initiates. Alex will get her chance to shine next. You have one hour, I''ll come around and instruct as you go. Here is your minute glass. When it¡¯s empty, you take to your next set or exercise, when you finish you flip it, then you may rest. If I see any of you resting before you flip that timer, we''ll all head back to the circuit. Do you understand, initiates?!¡±


    ¡°Yes sir!¡± Dorian nearly shouted, though the other two weren''t nearly so enthusiastic. Perhaps he enjoyed this kind of exercise simply because he excelled in it, or perhaps because he''d always been bigger than most. Either didn''t really matter to him, as his innermost child was doing all it could to try every piece of equipment there before the hour was out, his outermost composure doing all it could to keep himself from squealing like a star-stricken kid.


    As the hour passed, Brother Michael told a story about a young man and his pet goat. He lifted the goat repeatedly every day, and even though the goat grew to full size much faster than he had, he could still lift the goat. As he got older, and the goat grew fatter, he could still lift the goat over his head with little effort. Before long, the man he had grown in to was storied to be the strongest in the land. Then, the stories became grander, as the man himself grew, until it was said that he was the strongest in all the lands, that no man could challenge his strength. Many came to challenge him, but he bested them easily. When they asked him, he said it was all thanks to his pet goat, now plump and fattened to the point of absurdity. Still, however, the man lifted up the goat every day, until they both grew old. He told his secret to his children, granting them goats of their own. It was thanks to them that all of mankind learned what exercise could do, that we could grow and build, that we could become greater if our will met our desire.


    So wrapped up in the story, Dorian hadn''t noticed how quickly the time had passed. Such was the way of time, hate it and its an eternity, love it and it¡¯s so brief one can barely recall it. More''s the pity.


    ¡°Story time is over, initiates. To the gymnasium, drop what you''re doing. That means you, Dorian!¡±


    ¡°Aw, but-¡±


    ¡°Now!¡±


    Dorian dropped what he was doing and followed the others out, feeling abashed. He knew without a doubt he''d be sneaking back in there. It was a little piece of heaven, and he would honestly trade his new massive bed to simply sleep there. Then, he saw the incredibly complex gymnastics course and felt himself pale.


    Dorian looked over to Brother Michael. Shaking his head he said, ¡°you can''t be serious.¡±


    ¡°Deadly.¡± The flat stare his coach gave him left him feeling hallow inside, as if that glare had simply cooked him and left nothing more than a husk. With a sigh, Dorian came to the first pole. As he had just watched Alex, he was to jump out, vault himself forward to a set of parallel poles. The poles came up an incline, then descended to ascend yet again. The idea was to hop along it using only his arms.


    The mounting sense of dread building in his gut told him that if he didn''t do anything, he never would. He cursed under his breath and simply went for it. Grabbing the pole, he swung. As his legs came underneath him, he heard a ¡°pop.¡± There was something wrong, Dorian knew, because somehow, he was flying. He knew the ground was coming to meet him, but all he could see were the Giastone lights above, then, blackness.


    ¡°One such as yourself should be excited, Dorian. Come along, fear is nothing more than a burden. Let it go, and you''ll find freedom to be who you should be. Liberation is either something you control or something that controls you. The time for cowering is over, Dorian. You aren''t that person, at least not anymore, according to Malik. I believe him, and I believe in you. Come. Join us.¡± Vinny was spoke as he corralled Dorian to the side chamber with the pool. Vinny was looking over at him, everyone else standing by him, and all of them down to nothing but their small cloths.


    A large part of him wanted to run, to flee, hide away from this entire situation. If he left, he could... but no. These people would know him, know him as the one that ran away.


    Is it really that bad? To be known as a coward? So what? Who were they to judge?


    As the thoughts ran through his head, and his face ran flushed, he knew he was hedging. He knew he hated his body, hated the way it looked and felt. They couldn''t understand it, everyone here was healthy in their proportions. He felt like a pear being held up by two toothpicks.


    There was another part of himself, buried deep beneath layers of psychological filth and social expectations. Underneath the weight of what others had imposed on him, beneath what society dictated, there was something raw, something yearning for freedom. It had been beaten back, crushed, shamed, and locked away. Barred from the world for so long, shackled in chains of self-loathing.


    At his core, he knew the truth. This was his excuse. The reason he clung to when he failed, the justification for why someone didn¡¯t like him, the explanation for why he deserved their contempt. Nobody was perfect, but Dorian¡¯s imperfection wasn¡¯t hidden, it was out in the open for the world to see. And the world gaped and laughed.


    It didn¡¯t matter how skilled he was, how much he achieved. Anyone could strip it from him with a single word. Fat.


    If they were kind, they offered pity. If they were cruel, they wielded mockery. But in the end, it was the same. His insecurity was their weapon, and he had let them wield it for too long.


    He was tired of pity.


    Tired of remorse.


    Tired of being the victim.


    That part of himself, the small, beaten, battered, worn, and weathered bitter part of his soul raged against its shackles. Shackles, he realized, that he had placed there himself. They fell away, and his soul roared. With the pride of a lion, he faced his fears.


    He turned to the crowd, fear trying to fill him, but defiance rebuking that fear like a fire fighting the cold. The people in the crowd were covering their eyes, hiding them away. It was only then that Dorian realized he had summoned his Gia, had purified it, and sent it throughout his body. He glowed with the iridescence of the sun. He threw his cloths down faster than he thought possible and stood tall. Sturdy as a mountain, chest bold to the world, staring defiance.


    He dropped his Gia and said something he didn''t really understand, but in the moment flowed out of him.


    ¡°I am Dorian Cook, first of the line, first to the house, and I''m tired of hiding.¡±

 Chapter 30 - Breaking & Binding

    Hopefully the ¡°raffle¡± goes off without any trouble. There''s always one, one with enough purity remaining to become the next vessel of the Grand Elder. These cattle are so short sighted, always forgetting, and thus the same tricks work as they always have.


    This will be the last time, I know it. I''ve been close for more than a century now, but the ones that believe themselves to be Priorius will be the harvest that should put myself over the mark.


    I will need strength soon, I will need to be fresh for what is to come. My day is at hand, and to celebrate, I shall entertain the masses, just as the old ones had. When I have saved the world, perhaps my next step shall be conquering it. Why not? It''s good to keep goals, perhaps I''ll even take the place of the divines.


    When Kurt woke, he was warm. Not just warm, no, he was comfortably warm. He felt as though he had slept in his own bed, like he''d turn the corner to find bacon and eggs waiting for him. Looking down, he was startled to find that he had no pants.


    His body ached as he turned, despite his comfort, to find his chamber well lit by small green glowing stones. Regardless, his left shoulder down his back hurt like he''d just been tossed about by two Giants insisting they could master the art of juggling. His mouth had a layer of filth in it, and not just his usual morning bouquet of dry mouth. He spat out a few pieces of dirt and rock dust that had more in common with sand than it did anything else. Through a thin doorway, roughly half the width of a normal door, was another chamber, from it came the familiar sound of a crackling fire.


    He had to twist to get through the door, an experience he knew would hurt, but did it anyway. The flickering light had seduced him, enthralling him as he was taken by an instinct older than civilization, one that sought the light, warmth, and solace of an open flame. There was no natural light, not surprising as Kurt didn''t see an exit to the open room, though what was there was intricate in design. Several pillars had been shaped into the wall, the floor miraculously leveled. Between two pillars the open flame beckoned from a well crafted fireplace. Around the framing were depictions of the three deities. Kressor extending a staff on the left looking vengeful, Gwendos on the right holding the same pose, where the two staffs crossed, Metae rose with both hands extended. It was beautiful work, and even if the scale was off, Kurt had to take a moment and appreciate the sight. Doubly so as the flames in the fireplace danced light over the gorgeous sculptures, giving them a lifelike quality Kurt couldn''t quite put a finger on.


    Across the chamber, in the far corner, was a water basin set on a raised platform of sorts. There, muttering quiet curses at her travel cloak, stood Quena.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± he said, undeterred by the pain in his side, he sounded cheery.


    ¡°Evening,¡± Quena replied briskly.


    ¡°By chance, did you happen to spot my pants? I fear the damned things went and ran off on me again.¡±


    Not looking away from her immediate task, she asked, ¡°again?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. Damned things like to run off, I almost always find them in the wash with a pile of dresses. Family curse, ya see?¡±


    She gave a chuckle and turned, noticing Kurt in his undergarments. She hollered an alarmed ¡°yip¡± before averting her gaze. ¡°By the gods, couldn''t you have kept the blanket on?¡± She said, incredulity creeping its way in to her voice.


    ¡°Blanket?¡± Kurt replied, sounding confused.


    ¡°Yes, the one I gave...¡± She abruptly looked over and spotted the blanket in question resting on a stone platform, neatly folded. ¡°Oops,¡± she said it earnestly, but without a hint of actual regret in her voice.


    Kurt let that sit a moment before he spoke. ¡°So, pants?¡±


    ¡°Ah, they had to be mended. They''re hanging up next to my travel pants, drying out.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no.¡± Kurt said in mock alarm. ¡°You didn''t leave them alone, did you?¡±


    ¡°Yes I did, I didn''t know they required adult supervision.¡±


    ¡°Well, they do in point of fact. Now who is going to be responsible for all the loose rags and undergarments they''ll birth? Not me, I''ve traveled this road before.¡± As he said this, he had found his pants and put them on. ¡°Before you know it, we''ll be overrun.¡±


    She chuckled softly, finishing whatever she was doing with her cloak and molding the stone to pin it to the wall. That done, she moved over to a small locker and pulled out the bitrus fruit she had harvested earlier. ¡°Hungry?¡±


    Kurt nodded, reaching for his belt knife only to remember that he had lost it.


    Quena brightened, ¡°I found some obsidian.¡±


    Kurt''s brows lowered, ¡°and?¡±


    She darkened slightly, but went over to a two legged table that started at a wall. She grabbed a forearm sized chunk, carrying it over in two hands. ¡°So, how would you like your blade?¡±


    ¡°Oh, taking requests are we?¡±


    ¡°We are.¡± She nodded.


    Kurt had to think, putting his hand to his chin, surprised to find some stubble there. He had shaved before he left camp, but it had been a few days. ¡°Well, I''d like it to fit the sheath I already have.¡± He moved to get it, realizing he didn''t have his belt or his sheath. Quena was already on it, however, and was in the process of tossing Kurt his belt but hanging on to the sheath.


    ¡°What''s so special about obsidian, anyways?¡± Kurt asked, actually curious.


    ¡°It''s sharp, wickedly so. As long as you''re with me, I can keep it that way with little effort, but I''ll warn you, it is brittle.¡±


    Raising his brow, he asked, ¡°how brittle?¡±


    ¡°Like, as a cutting tool, nothing compares. As a shovel... well, don''t use it for a shovel.¡±


    ¡°What about chopping?¡±


    ¡°If you like, I found some quartz earlier, that''s how I made the Giastone that lit your room. Surrounding the quarts, I found some itacolumite, I could reinforce the spine to absorb most of the shock with it. I''ll run a few extra veins through it to give it more durability.¡±


    Kurt had no clue what she was going on about, so he just said, ¡°sure,¡± as nonchalantly as he could.


    Seeing right through his guise, she snorted and got to work. Within five minutes, he was holding on to a  nine inch blade of questionable manufacturing, so he tested it on the fruit. It was the sharpest thing he''d ever touched.


    ¡°Any chance I could get you to make a razor for me, since you''re feeling crafty.¡± He twisted his head, giving a sly grin.


    The eye roll was expected, but half-hearted. She was amused, so Kurt explained what he needed. She obliged him, working with him for about fifteen minutes as they shared the bitrus fruit. She took the seeds too, saying that she''d bring in some soil later.


    Quena left the room shortly thereafter, telling Kurt that he stunk. After a quick inspection, he found that she wasn''t wrong. She had left to begin crafting her own quarters, explaining that she''d need a bit of time to get the ventilation to work properly in order to heat their little hideout. She did, at one point, open a hole in the wall to check the weather. The storm was still raging, so she swiftly closed it up, before leaving Kurt to his own devices. The memory came then.


    Dorian and Kurt trained for months, perhaps more than a year. Time got funny at castle Dorian. Kurt had little else to do when Dorian worked on expanding his aptitudes in other capacities, so he worked more at shape crafting and experimentation. The trick, he had come to find, was to practice summoning the tools repeatedly in the form he needed. They both had worked at figuring this out without Moder''s assistance, which became a sore spot to Moder. When the gremlin-man had shown his ugly mug, he shared little information that they hadn''t figured out on their own, notwithstanding the plethora of history knew. The problem was that he was no longer granting deep insight into the understanding of what they both could do. Before, when he first came in to his power, he had progressed in bounds, or he at least felt he had.


    When Moder and Dorian left to train, however, he was incredibly insightful to helping the ¡°young one¡± improve his ¡°primes.¡± When Kurt asked why he could help Dorian but not himself, Moder had shrugged. Without a care in the world he said, ¡°you aren''t a Priorius, or a vessel for that matter. The last time something like you walked the valley, I was still in my second millennia, and even they weren''t exactly like you. You are unbound by the rules I knew, it''ll be up to you to figure it out. When competing for your life, it''s almost always the survivor''s unique skills that will save them.¡±


    ¡°Says the undying creature that looks like a dead man and a hairless cat made a baby.¡± Kurt retorted.


    Moder sighed, pinching the bridge of his pointed nose. ¡°You know, we can''t get this wrong. You have a part to play. You can''t be informed about everything, too much to risk, but you have to be ready when the time comes. If you''re not, I''ll live on forever with this torment,¡± Moder pinched a part of his face and the skin peeled off, leaving a bloody splotch behind. It healed quickly, right in front of Kurt''s eyes, but Moder wasn''t done. ¡°Not only will I have to continue to exist in this miserable husk,¡± he barked out, ¡°but your little brother will either die or be the next one like me. We''re both depending on you.¡± The tone was deadly serious, even the biggest fool could hear the cold heat behind Moder''s words.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Kurt said reassuringly, ¡°I''ve yet to find a challenge I can''t overcome.¡± He said with an air of absolute confidence.


    Then the unsightly bastard muttered, ¡°we''re doomed,¡± as he walked away. What an asshole.


    Dorian did see steady improvement, but Moder had little understanding of what Dorian called ¡°Will Casting.¡± Casting, imbuing, and an entire slew of other things that Kurt simply couldn''t follow, became a constant irritation to Dorian. It was a mystery, but Kurt often shot out ideas in the hours they had together. Kurt gleamed that casting had something to do with ¡°runes,¡± shapes that acted like a construct that could be funneled with Gia to create various effects. Unfortunately, Dorian figured out how to make a rune for making fire. Kurt pointed out that he had seen Dorian manifest fire when working on Chateau Dorian, but Dorian claimed it was different.


    ¡°When I use fire like that, it''s because there''s enough heat compacted that the air actually catches fire. This is different, I''m actually making fire directly.¡± Dorian had said, holding up a sphere of Gia with a black marking running through it.


    ¡°Still, what''s the point, that takes you like half a minute, why bother?¡±


    ¡°Mostly, for containing the heat. I can concentrate on a small spot, but the heat will still leak out, with this method I can consolidate, and I don''t have to use my prime.¡±


    ¡°So? Why does that matter?¡±


    Dorian sighed wearily. ¡°Primes cost minerals the body needs, Gia costs calories, and you can''t use the same prime to do two separate things at once.¡±


    ¡°I''m going to nod, and pretend I understood everything you just said.¡± Kurt nodded slowly.


    Dorian laughed, ¡°say I want to make a Linewood staff, right? But I don''t want to char the whole thing, or maybe I want to engrave it? I can use this construct, cast my flame, and remove all the heat from the areas I don''t want charred at the same time using my prime. Otherwise, the whole thing will end up like burnt toast.¡±


    ¡°Then how did you make my staff?¡±


    Dorian shrugged, ¡°I cheated. Gwam dust.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Kurt replied thoughtfully, before going back to practicing how far he could stretch one unit of Shade.


    Most of the ¡°daylight¡± hours were spent like this, training the physical and arcane, but in what would pass for the evenings they would kick back and just live a little. Dorian had taken to experimenting with various foods and spices to create some very successful dishes, and a few that... weren''t exactly edible. Still, the tubby kid enjoyed making various dishes for the both of them. He was always particularly proud when he stumbled across a delicious combination of flavors, like curry and ginger.


    Kurt, in the mean time, had to find himself a personal hobby. At first, Dorian''s skills had made him feel like there wasn''t any craft worth pursuing, as Dorian could simply will something to mend itself to his liking. What was the point in learning how to work steel when Dorian could just press his hand to it and forge a weapon in a few heartbeats?


    Finally, after more than a month, Dorian had mentioned that he couldn''t move organics telekinetically. Anything with a capacity for Gia was off limits, which meant it wouldn''t be pointless to pick up another skill. Thinking it through, Kurt decided he''d start leather working. He knew the basics, but didn''t want to deal with the entire process of tanning the hides, mostly because it stunk. He went to Moder, who was more than inclined to assist. As Moder put it, ¡°finding fulfillment in any capacity expands your Gia reserves, which will serve my ends. I will provide you with all you need.¡± Maybe not a complete asshole then, Kurt thought.


    Kurt''s first project was something simple, he wanted to make a set of bracers, something that would prevent his arm from being stung every time he released a bow. The following time Moder dropped in, he laughed at Kurt''s first attempt so viciously that Kurt had to amend his prior thought. Nope, he is a complete asshole.


    At the thought, Moder looked over at him with a suspicious glare. ¡°Did you just call me an asshole?¡±


    Despite how unnerving the question was, Kurt nodded sagely. ¡°You have a talent, one that you''ve obviously cultivated over the years. So is that like a sixth sense or something? You just know when people are thinking you''re an asshole?¡± Kurt grinned, he knew he was caught but honestly didn''t care.


    With a flat stare, Moder said, ¡°No.¡±


    He turned to leave, but Kurt stopped him by laughing out, ¡°Oh, come now. Don''t be such a tender monster, where''s the cackling creature I''ve come to know and love?¡± Kurt was being flippant, but he hoped it would smooth things over.


    ¡°You should watch yourself, little squire,¡± He said to Kurt with murder in his eyes. Then a smile broke free of the look, ¡°I''m beginning to like you.¡±


    He rinsed thoroughly, the cool water from the basin was refreshing if a bit chilly. Not that the temperature bothered him, but the thought of Quena walking in to the room as he was washing his naughty bits crossed his mind unbidden. He finished washing up quickly afterwards, though he knew he''d need to wash his breeches. He did so, putting on his mostly dried pants and placing his breeches by the fire. The fire was still strong, though it would likely need more fuel before long.


    He would have went out and gotten some, but remembered that he was stuck there until the storm had passed, and even if he could go outside the wood would be sodden from the aforementioned storm. So far, this was a bad one, and even though they were behind a solid layer of rock he could hear the hail from time to time. He leveled with himself that the best choice of action at that point in time would be to dry out in front of the fire.


    The warmth and comfort of his own chamber didn''t even occur to him as he gritted his teeth, lying down on the naked stone. It wasn''t as abrasively cold as he expected, which made him wonder how long this fire had been burning. For that matter, he didn''t even know how long he was out for, but decided he''d ask Quena whenever she finished what she was doing.


    He shut his eyes, passing the time by trying to recap recent events. Attempting to keep his head space chronological was beginning to become a chore. I wonder if it was like this for Dorian.


    The experiences, flashbacks, bleeding through his minds eye were abrupt and had caught him at bad times in multiple situations now, though he''d been lucky so far. What would happen to him if he dazed out just before he needed to duck and found himself beheaded, forced to watch his own body fall to the floor.


    He shivered at the thought, and was quietly grateful he hadn''t been so unlucky. He was a lucky guy, he knew, but he also knew that tempting his fair lady in such a way would eventually run astray. He pondered for a short time as to what he could do about it. When he came to the simple conclusion of, ¡°not a damned thing,¡± he let it go for the time being. No sense on brooding on the ¡°what-ifs¡± when he couldn''t do anything about it, so why bother? It would just string him out and run him ragged. That''s what Dorian did, something Kurt hoped his brother would grow out of.


    Find me at the tournament.


    Oh yes, and that whole bit of cryptic nonsense. What was he supposed to do?


    Maybe we''ll get to fight in the tournament, ya think? I know I''m not that good, but you never know. Don''t worry, I doubt I''ll fight. Just find me, if you have to, use your boon. We''ll make this work, I promise.


    ¡°Damn it, Dorian! Cut it out!¡± Kurt shouted, sitting up and rubbing his forehead.


    ¡°Something wrong?¡± Came Quena from another room.


    ¡°Oh, nothing, just being weird.¡± Kurt shook his head and laid back down, resting his head on his hands.  He was being weird, and he knew it, but he was beginning to get frustrated over the entire Dorian ordeal. It didn''t make sense, why couldn''t he just remember it all and be done with it? Why did it have to drag out like this? And why the hell did he willingly go to the Monastery? Wasn''t their goal a few months ago to simply stay under the radar?


    ¡°You could say that again.¡± Kurt could hear her footsteps, soft touches to the stone floor, silent if not for the echo. ¡°Where are you?¡±


    ¡°Warming up, but you may want to shield your eyes, I''m drying my breeches.¡± Kurt said.


    She hopped around a feature that had been obscuring his view, her face dropped quickly however. ¡°Well that''s disappointing.¡± She winked at him.


    Kurt''s head spun slightly as he processed that. ¡°Whoa now, who do you think I am? Some wanton sexual barterer?¡± He smirked, sitting up slightly and resting on his elbows.


    ¡°Yes, actually, I just wish I knew what you were bartering for.¡± Her eyebrows flashed upwards then back down.


    ¡°Oh, you know, help saving the valley from an incoherent torturing madman.¡±


    ¡°Is that all?¡±


    Kurt thought a moment, tilting his chin slightly, ¡°starting with my village, of course, that should be about it. Just a heads up, it may topple our theocracy and plunge the valley in to chaos.¡±


    Quena''s brow came down, then one came up. ¡°Are you serious?¡±


    Kurt sat up, nodding. ¡°Yeah, that''s my price, I generally don''t go any lower.¡±


    The other brow came down and she glared, eyes beginning to glow. ¡°No, not that you moron. You intend to overthrow our theocracy? Are you a revolutionary?¡±


    Kurt put his hands up, he put on a stern expression and spoke slowly. ¡°Hang on now. I''m not with the Kressians, I''m out here to get my father.¡± That didn''t seem to phase her so he continued. ¡°I''m not a revolutionary, I believe in the three, and I don''t wish upend our religious organization.¡±


    She softened slightly, sighing slowly. ¡°Then what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I''m not really certain myself. It''s all garbled and confusing. There''s my brother, and Moder, and-¡±


    ¡°What was that? What was that name you just said?¡±


    ¡°Moder, real nasty looking-¡±


    ¡°You''ve seen Moder? That''s not possible.¡± Quena shook her head slowly.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°What''s the big deal, why not? Hell, if we get to the right spot I might be able to introduce you two.¡±


    She was still shaking her head. She moved to some of the stone furniture and sat, staring off. ¡°Moder isn''t real, he''s a myth, a nightmare dreamt up by scared initiates afraid of the dark.¡± Something about the way she shook made Kurt realize that she wasn''t actually disagreeing, it was a nervous tic.


    In his calmest voice he asked,¡°Quena, what happened?¡± Her breath was coming raggedly. ¡°Calm down, take a deep breath.¡± He moved, but crouched down to put a hand on her shoulder and hold her eye. ¡°It''s all right, why don''t we trade. You tell me your story, I''ll tell you what I know of mine, deal?¡± He moved to the other chair after putting a shirt on. She was noticeably calmer, after a short while she spoke.


    ¡°Before... before I came out here I had a repeating nightmare. In it, I was in my cell at the Monastery. It would be late, lights out, and I''d be lying in my bed. I''d hear him say, ¡°Your final trial comes. Be ready.¡± His voice was ragged and scratchy, and it gave me the creeps. I asked my cell mate about it, but she had no idea what I was talking about. So I kept asking until I stopped having the dream.¡± She stopped, thinking about what to say next.


    ¡°Yep, that sounds like a nightmare.¡±


    ¡°Eventually, when I described it to my mentor in private, he asked me if I was listening in on old superstitions. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I asked him. He told me about Moder, the ghost of a man that became a monster. He haunts the halls of the Monastery, foretelling doom. So I asked around, one other had heard of the story but was disbelieving.¡± She took a breath, then continued. ¡°But then I really was chosen for my final trial. I didn''t know what to think about it, so I let it go.¡± She got quiet, her eyes growing distant. ¡°Then the nightmare came back. Everything was the same, except I could see his outline as he spoke different words. Sharp ears, bald head, body distorted, he would say, ¡°the final trial is a farce. If you do as instructed, you will die.¡±


    Kurt''s brows lowered making a line. ¡°Okay, go on.¡±


    She took a breath letting it out slowly. ¡°Then the last time he told me where to go, to follow the streams, to find the white wall and the cave there. That if I wanted to live, if I wanted freedom, I should go there and wait.¡± She contemplated something for a minute, but decided to add, ¡°that''s the only reason I didn''t kill you outright when you stormed in to that cave the way you did. I guess I haven''t been completely honest with you Kurt, but I think... I think I should reassess what I thought I knew.¡±


    Sitting back, Kurt thought over her words for a time. Just when things were getting weird, Kurt started talking. How his memories have been coming back to him, how he was bound to his brother, where he''d been, but left out what he had learned there.


    She listened intently, not showing any sign of emotion on her face. When Kurt finished, she didn''t even pause before she asked, ¡°and how did you come to control Gia and Shade? You shouldn''t be able to, you don''t even have any primes.¡±


    ¡°Apparently, its something to do with how I''m bound to my brother. I can manipulate it, and in some ways even my brother couldn''t.¡± As he said the words, another flashback broke through, and he was swept away to a strange place with strange standards.


    The sky was synthetic, apparently a natural byproduct of the ¡°time bubble.¡± Within the sphere, anything that required sunlight, so everything, would die if the time bubble were held up too long. Dorian had apparently tinkered with it, and found that time bubbles would reflect the sun and moons at a relative time to the observer, or some such nonsense that Kurt honestly didn''t care about. He said that once a time bubble grew to be large enough, or was made to be large enough, it technically became its own ¡°biosphere.¡± Whatever the hell that meant.


    Still, they sparred for countless hours, and even though Dorian was still doughy, he began to shape up a spell. He had grown a few inches, just as Kurt had, but now stood roughly five and a half feet instead of the pudgy five he had before.


    At first, the sparring only consisted of staff work, techniques and the like. Then, they expanded, working on how they could manipulate Gia and Shade to create different tools relative to the occasion. The problem with the skill was time consumption, however. It seemed that without the need, manipulating Shade was much slower but also less taxing to the appetite. When Kurt had first begun, Dorian had to make Kurt slow down.


    ¡°It''s always easier if you can summon it already shaped to the size and scale you need. Changing it on the fly is exhausting.¡± Dorian had said, and he was right. It took Kurt a long time to figure out how to summon what he may at the size and scale he needed, but he did finally get the hang of it. Even if it was more efficient, however, it was still draining. Kurt ate like an animal the whole time he was at Chateau Dorian, and found himself struggling to eat as much as he needed.


    Then Moder had them started on what he called ¡°stretching.¡± Stretching, like normal stretching, sucked. It was an uncomfortable experience involving summoning one''s Shade and stretching it from its base size as far as one could. The thing was, when Shade was connected to his body, Kurt could feel it. It  was comparable to the experience of pinching your finger between two stone slabs and paying attention to how far it would swell. It was like that, but so much worse.


    Then they worked on ¡°passing,¡± then ¡°juggling,¡± then ¡°funneling,¡± all things that were not self explanatory, but once experienced they became as natural as breathing. The hardest thing for Kurt to learn was ¡°purifying.¡± Purifying the sources wasn''t easy, but was downright mundane to Dorian. All it meant was how pure one could make the manifestation of either Shade or Gia. Imperfect Shade wasn''t as hard, but would return more quickly. Perfect Shade would stay solidified indefinitely, but if it was lodged in to something that had a bit of Gia already, it would siphon it like a sponge. Purifying Gia had little benefit to Kurt, but it made Dorian''s castings stronger, or so they said.


    The exciting parts for Kurt were sparring with Moder. It was fun to instruct Dorian and all, but unless Dorian cheated, Kurt generally wiped the floor with the poor pill bug. Sparring with Moder was a different animal, however. Yes, he was freaky as all get out to look at, but once you got past that strange demeanor and even stranger looks, he wasn''t all that bad. He had much more in common with what Kurt could do than with what Dorian could.


    Every month or so, they''d get together and have a little meeting. They''d eat, talk about how they would topple the Monastery, show off some skills and ask questions of Moder. Moder, being older than dirt, had answers for most things, but failed miserably at will casting and control of his Gia.


    That will take some explaining. Moder, though strong, had a kind of blockage. He could summon Gia, but not very much, and he couldn''t purify it worth half a damn. Something about how he had been altered, it changed the way his powers worked. The worst part was that since he was mostly Shade, not Gia, and the Shade he had came from Bacchus, he literally couldn''t harm the mad priest. His Shade would pass right through, much like you couldn''t hurt yourself with your own Shade. Kurt pondered on that for a while, wondering how he was able to spar with Dorian using his own Shade, if they were bonded in the same way. Moder explained this away, saying that his own binding was distorted and wholly unique. Almost the opposite of Dorian and Kurt, Moder could only die once Bacchus had. Thinking on how that worked made his head spin, so Kurt put down the thoughts so he could focus on another question he had.


    ¡°Moder, how is that I can solidify my Shade at the range of my Gia?¡±


    ¡°You can''t.¡± Moder replied, sounding as though he was tired of dealing with the two .


    ¡°But he can, I''ve seen him do it.¡± Dorian chirped up.


    Raising a hairless brow, ¡°is that so?¡±


    Kurt nodded, ¡°want to see a demonstration?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, I would find that quite amusing. Little squire, I don''t know why, but I love to watch you fail.¡± He laughed to himself for a second, then gestured a clawed hand over at Kurt. ¡°Let me see.¡±


    Kurt summoned a cloud of Gia, extending it over to Moder. At the edge of the cloud, he allowed Shade to flow through, solidifying it as it moved, making the shape broad and thin. It wasn''t sharp, but with the way it flattened out, it made a pretty reasonable paddle. It wasn''t the first time he''d made the shape that way, he''d been tormenting Dorian for weeks doing this. Nothing like a slap on  the back from twenty yards away to get your tubby brother moving. Every time he had, he quietly thanked the gods for such a gift, as the distance was exactly what he''d usually need to make a clean getaway. Just like he had to his brother, he sent out the paddle to slap at Moder''s side. It made a thwap noise, and a hefty chunk of Moder fell away. Stunned, Moder just stared at Kurt.


    Kurt, meanwhile, was stunned as well. The chunk of skin was moving, and after a moment, a bipedal little monster crawled out of the chunk of flesh and started to scream. When all three sets of eyes fell upon the little creature, it quieted. Then, looking between the three of them, it got nervous, started crying and ran away, flailing its arms as it did.


    Dorian''s mouth was agape, as was Kurt''s. Moder, seeming to finally come back to the moment, said, ¡°That, as far as I knew, isn''t possible. We''ll go over this later, I have to take care of that one before he goes too far, I think he might be a good one.¡± He turned, wearing nothing but trousers he looked ghastly, save for the concerned look he wore. He shouted, ¡°dentin tee Moder krentu teek!¡± Then scampered after the little bugger.


    Dorian burst out in to laughter. It was funny, but Kurt had to ask, ¡°what did he say?¡±


    Throughout the bursts of laughter Dorian managed, ¡°he said... He said,¡± he laughed again but finally spat out, ¡°don''t run away when your mother is speaking to you!¡±


    Kurt laughed as hard as Dorian, it was a long while before they got to anything productive, even longer before Moder returned.


    ¡°I hope you found the, uh, kid?¡± Kurt asked, unsure what to call it.


    ¡°I found my pup, yes. He''s surprisingly bright, that one. I''m going to name him after you.¡±


    ¡°Now why would you go and do a thing like that?¡±


    ¡°You''re the one who knocked him loose, and since you''ve become my favorite turd, I''ve decided to honor your memory. I''ve named him Turt, blending your name and title.¡±


    ¡°Isn''t that technically a portmanteau?¡±


    ¡°Yes, little Dorian, I believe it is.¡±


    Dorian nodded, playing along.


    ¡°Okay, okay, very funny.¡± Kurt paused, then asked, ¡°figure anything else out about what I did?¡±


    ¡°No, but I''ve thought on it.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    Moder''s thinking noise was like a distant hallow clicking starting from his throat. ¡°Summon your Gia, I have a theory.¡±


    Kurt did so, holding a mass above his hand. The blob just floated there, amalgamate and globular. ¡°Okay, now what?¡±


    ¡°Try to sweep this up using your Gia.¡± Moder pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, shredded it, and tossed it on the ground.


    ¡°Couldn''t you have just thrown the whole paper on the ground instead of shredding it?¡± Kurt said, giving a sour look.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Moder said, smirking.


    Kurt sighed, and sent his Gia out, guiding it to sweep up the shredded paper. At first, it wasn''t thick enough, it could move the smaller pieces but not the rest. Thinking on the fly, instead of purifying his Gia, he mixed in more Shade. The result made his Gia behave more like water, giving it more consistency. The difference was the density of air to the that of water, the papers flowed upwards, following each other in a circular route. He moved it, his range was about twenty yards with Gia so long as it wasn''t too heavy. That is to say, if it had any real weight to it. It had mass, moving it took time and energy but was easier to use so long as it kept momentum. Though he could move it without moving his body, he hated to. It made him want to crawl out of his own skin, but when he engaged his entire body it felt so natural. Like breathing, it moved through the air. Kurt began to siphon a bit of Gia back to himself, thinning out the range of movement until it kept to small circuit just above Moder.


    Kurt let go, the Gia dissipating after a moment, the paper shreds drifting slowly over Moder.


    He looked unamused as he plucked a piece of paper from his shoulder. Dorian began chortling, doing all he could to stifle his laughter but failing miserably. Moder sighed, a few shreds of paper drifting to the floor as they dislodged.


    Kurt smirked, but didn''t lose his shit like Dorian. That kid couldn''t keep a straight face to save his life.


    ¡°That''s very interesting, little squire, but It seems to me that you have a much deeper range than anyone. Summon a unit of Shade and let me see it.¡± Kurt did so and handed it over to Moder. Moder inspected it, tinkering and inspecting it as his eyes glowed. ¡°That is fascinating.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Kurt and Dorian both asked. Dorian was concerned, Kurt was curious.


    ¡°Your Kraken is as solid as mine, but this must be twenty percent Gia. I wouldn''t believe it if I weren''t holding it right now.¡± His eyes widened, then he tossed it into the white exterior to their courtyard shed. It wiggled free and started heading towards them.


    ¡°Wow, that''s fast.¡± Dorian said. Moder nodded.


    ¡°I suggest you focus your attention on that for now, that is unique. It may save your life in the future, and it is something no-one will expect, as even I have never seen the like.¡± Moder grimaced, turned on a heel, and left leaving a trail of shredded paper in his wake.


    Dorian watched him go, smiling the entire time. He turned to leave as well when Kurt stopped him.


    ¡°Hey, Dorian, we need to talk before you disappear on me again.¡±


    ¡°Oh, why''s that?¡±


    ¡°Because there''s some things I need explained.¡± Kurt said in a serious tone.


    Dorian stopped, turned to look at Kurt, then nodded. ¡°Sure, just give me a sec, I need to restock our fruit stores.¡± Kurt nodded once as Dorian systematically used his abilities to ripen the fruit off a pear, apple, and orange tree. He stretched a piece of stone out to catch everything, which he sealed in to a large sphere, roughly half of Kurt''s height. As they headed back to the entrance to their little castle, Dorian used his telekinesis to roll the sphere along with them.


    ¡°Why don''t you just pick it up?¡± Kurt asked. ¡°Like with the telekinesis.¡±


    Dorian laughed, ¡°I might be able to, but I''ll run all the calcium out of my bones so fast you''d need a mop.¡±


    ¡°Eh? What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°As in, without my bones holding me together, I''d be a big pile of Dorian soup.¡±


    ¡°That''s not disturbing.¡±


    Dorian shrugged, ¡°telekinesis has an awful ratio, someone using it so recklessly wouldn''t make it far. I''d do more with it, and if my ball of fruit wasn''t so heavy I probably would just float it, but just to get this thing off the ground I''d probably break my back.¡±


    ¡°Wait, how''s that? It''s not like you''re picking it up, it''s all mental right?¡±


    ¡°Ha! I wish! Otherwise I''d just fly about, probably just fly right out of the valley and drag you along with me.¡±


    ¡°Wait, can''t we? Just like how we entered this time bubble, can''t we just, I don''t know, go?¡±


    ¡°Is this what you wanted to talk about?¡± Dorian asked as the sphere came to a stop by the stairs that led to the front doors.


    Kurt shook his head, ¡°not exactly, but it has been on my mind.¡±


    Dorian gave a sad smile, ¡°after we fought against Moder, after you passed out like a dandy, I-¡±


    Kurt punched Dorian in the arm. Dorian laughed but rubbed at his shoulder. ¡°Ouch, you know I could fold you like dough, case you in stone, and launch you all the way across the valley?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I''m your big brother. It''s a private club, you just wouldn''t understand. Please continue.¡±


    Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes. ¡°After you passed out, Moder took to explaining a few things, what opportunity we have, and how I to bring back Ohmer.¡± Dorian reached a hand out, creating a ramp on the side of the stairs, then began rolling the stone up as he ascended the steps. ¡°First, I had to take Ohmer into myself, at the time I was just desperate to save him, so I wasn''t paying the closest attention to Moder''s words.¡± Dorian rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish. ¡°In order to have the power to save him before I died of old age, I had to bind something else to myself.¡± They came up the final step, and Dorian headed straight inside, ducking to the left and rolling his ball of fruit along with him.


    ¡°On a side note, how are the fruits not going to be pulp by the time you get it in there?¡±


    ¡°Oh, its not hallow, I use the stone to support the fruits. They''ll be fine.¡± They came to the cooking area, a large room with a cooking pot, stone ovens, and ample shelving for various pots, pans, and other assorted cookware. Dorian held up a hand and the top half of the stone melted downwards, revealing the fruit, and melded to the base, making a crude bowl. He tossed an apple to Kurt who caught it deftly, cleaned it on his tunic, and took a bite.


    ¡°When Bacchus first came into power, there were other Priorius, people that could challenge them. When one of us dies, we flow through the currents of Gia until we find an ¡°empty¡± vessel, whatever that means. Anyhow, Bacchus has a unique ability, he''s a very gifted telepath, he can literally will most anyone to do as he commands. It''s basically mind control.¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with Ohmer, or you for that matter?¡±


    ¡°I''m getting to that, what''s the rush anyways?¡± Dorian looked worried.


    ¡°My rush? What about mom and dad? Don''t you think they¡¯re worried, even if we''re gone for a few months, they''ll assume we died.¡±


    Dorian''s face shifted, and his now sad expression made Kurt feel terrible. ¡°Sorry to bring it up, but you know how they get.¡±


    Dorian nodded, ¡°I do. Kurt, I''m doing this for them too. Let me finish explaining, and if you don''t agree then by all means, we''ll go back home.¡± Dorian took a long breath before continuing. ¡°As I was saying, Bacchus would compel the Priorius to take out their own essence, much like how we exchanged memories during the bonding.¡± Dorian pulled down the edge of his tunic, revealing the four scars that lined his chest. ¡°Two were for Ohmer, and there will be another before this is all over. Another for you, but the first one I took in was someone else. Someone old, even older than Bacchus himself. He was there at the beginning of all of this, born before the calamity. He''s in here, somewhere.¡± Dorian pointed to his head, ¡°but I still have the reigns. There were others, but Bacchus did something with them, turned them in to something else or sealed them away.¡± Dorian started walking out of the kitchen. ¡°Are you coming?¡± Kurt nodded and followed along. They made idle chatter for a bit, but Kurt knew where they were heading. Dorian had several fruits with him still, but he had crafted something like a jug around them. They made their way to the presumed destination, a high balcony that overlooked the courtyard. From this vantage, Kurt could see the rows of vegetation, mostly trees for fruits or lumber for harvest, though there were grapevines, and various herbs. The false sun was beginning to rest over the trees, and they both took their customary seats. Fine oak chairs, thrones really, with a small table between them. On it sat two glass cups.


    ¡°I think I''ve finally got the trick of it, by the way.¡± Dorian said, looking confident.


    ¡°Lets see it then.¡± Kurt said, bemused. This had to be Dorian''s one hundredth attempt.


    He set the jug down as they sat, then pushed it into the air using his telekinesis. He spun it violently, until Kurt could hear the sloshing that was coming from the inside of the jug. Then, he reached out his other hand and the air where it floated seemed to ripple, then again, until it was so intense that Kurt could feel a certain kind of chaos coming from the air. Letting go of whatever Dorian was doing, he summoned the jar to himself and unplugged the top by shaping a hole in the stone. The liquid he poured into their cups was a bit dirty, but no chunks of the fruit remained. He set the jug down, and they both lifted their glasses to clink them to the setting sun.


    Kurt took a sip, it was like drinking fire. He coughed, and shortly after Dorian joined him.


    ¡°Smooth.¡± Kurt said gruffly as he held his hand to his mouth. ¡°Maybe a bit too long though.¡±


    Dorian nodded, and when he did a few of his hairs fell out. He noted it, but didn''t care, finishing his drink and sitting back. Kurt wasn''t inclined to be outdone by his little brother, so he finished his own as well. They spent a spell there, just watching the sun set over their little domain.


    ¡°It was Bacchus''s tutor, what we would consider the first Grand Elder. He wasn''t even born a Priorius, he was made one. I don''t know what the three had in mind when the calamity struck, but it wasn''t this.¡±


    ¡°So, what''s it like having someone else scrambling your noggin?¡± Kurt asked, slouching in his chair.


    ¡°Like this?¡± Dorian thought at Kurt.


    Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes. ¡°Showoff.¡±


    Dorian snorted, then said, ¡°It''s hazy, I have a complete understanding of some things, other things... not so much.¡± He shook his head but continued. ¡°Its like when you tell a story you''re really excited about, and you forget to mention all the parts that are implied to you but not to the listener.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so like how you tell stories?¡±


    ¡°Hey! My stories are good, and have variety, unlike you. How many times have you told that ridiculous story about those Shoemaker twins?¡± Dorian asked, sounding exacerbated.


    ¡°That''s a really good story!¡±


    ¡°It''s a really lame story, with a lame premise and bad punchlines.¡±


    ¡°Damn, Dorian. Don''t hold back now,¡± Kurt said, putting his hands up.


    ¡°Oh, come on, you know what I mean. I thought the whole thing was crude before I was ten.¡±


    ¡°It was a fine example of when a prank goes wrong, which is why I tell the story. Your stories never have a lesson, you''re great in the telling until the end, then you just flop about like a fish.¡± Kurt sucked his cheeks in and stared at Dorian.


    ¡°Real mature.¡±


    Kurt nodded enthusiastically, keeping the face locked tight.


    Dorian looked away, then got back on topic. ¡°Some things, amazing things really, were such common place to him that he didn''t even understand how it worked, or how to make them. Just that when he pressed the button, it came on, and from it he had access to all sorts of information. But that was all lost, and his new life began here, his mission clear. To find the balance required for homeostasis, to exist on this new world without risking obliteration or extinction. Eventually, naturally, when the valley had found balance with the environment it would release them into the next cluster.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, cluster fuck? I have no idea what cluster is referencing, cluster of planets? Gods? Demons? My balls?¡± Kurt put his hands out like he was a balance scale.


    ¡°Did you just put your testes in the same company as planets, gods, and demons?¡±


    ¡°Well, I would have thrown something else in there if there was anything else up to scale.¡± His brows lifted, and he smirked.


    ¡°Damn it, Kurt.¡± Dorian shook his head, but he couldn¡¯t help grinning. ¡°I don¡¯t know what the Cluster is. I don¡¯t know much in general. But I do know that when the sun sets, I get the urge to drink strong liquor, and that Bacchus won¡¯t stop with the Valley.¡±


    He fell into thought for a moment before speaking again.


    ¡°He wants to undo what was released, but he doesn¡¯t realize he¡¯s already destroyed everything. He thinks he¡¯ll save the world by sacrificing the Valley. Kurt, he¡¯s close, so close that he¡¯s willing to instigate a war, to sacrifice everyone just to end the time stream. But whatever good he thinks he¡¯s doing, it¡¯s already corrupted. He¡¯s going to slaughter everyone and use the tangible soul of each of us to unleash madness on the world.¡±


    Dorian poured them each another glass.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I had to do this. I have to do this, no matter the cost. The voice in my head and I are merging. Sometimes I act before I even choose to, making decisions I have no right to.¡±


    Kurt frowned. ¡°Sounds a lot like a parasite. Are you sure you don¡¯t have worms? I think we should cut it out before it gets any worse.¡± He summoned a blade of Shade, spinning it lazily on his fingertip.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± Dorian said. ¡°Every time I¡¯ve acted without thinking, because of him, it¡¯s been something I agree with. I¡¯ve felt the urge to act on several occasions now, but I still get the final say. Even so, I know this needs to be done, and I¡¯m the one who¡¯s here.¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°Everyone is going to lose everything anyway. That means I won¡¯t lose anything, or anyone, that wouldn¡¯t be lost if I did nothing.¡±


    His grip tightened around the glass.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Kurt. I¡¯ve signed you up for something hopeless, a desperate last effort. And I¡¯m scared. If we don¡¯t get this right, everyone dies.¡±


    Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at Kurt.


    ¡°That¡¯s you, me, Mom, Dad, Quena, Diana, Master Kel, everyone, Kurt. And Bacchus is going to do it after he takes his next body. That¡¯s why he¡¯s holding the tournament, a massive one. Once he¡¯s taken on his new form, he¡¯ll rile up the crowd, push them to express themselves, to release their energy. Then, he¡¯ll sink the Colosseum, trapping every living soul inside and dragging them straight into the Reservoir.¡±


    Dorian dropped his face into his hands as the last light of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.


    Kurt stood, summoning Gia to light the crystals lining the chamber. The room filled with a deep green glow.


    ¡°Dorian, it¡¯s going to be all right. I know you can do this. And besides, I¡¯ll be there.¡± He grinned and clapped a hand on Dorian¡¯s shoulder. ¡°When it comes to dastardly deeds, we are the dream team.¡±


    Dorian lifted his head, his face lined with exhaustion.


    ¡°Kurt, when the time comes, you¡¯ll have to find me.¡± He looked away, suddenly seeming much older than he was. ¡°You¡¯re going to leave soon, and I¡¯ll continue alone. If you¡¯re too old, they won¡¯t take you into the tournament. I have to stay. And when I leave, I¡¯m going to take out my own memories, put up a blockade against my power, and let it sit, ferment.¡±


    He grabbed his cup, holding it up as an example.


    ¡°Like this, the power will grow when left alone. When I took on the Ancient One, most of the strength you see in me now came from him. Not that I could never reach this level on my own, but it would have taken years, maybe a lifetime. After his death, his power had been sitting, ripening for thousands of years. By the time the tournament comes, I¡¯ll be fully attuned to his abilities. I can save us, Kurt. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. But if I fail, we all die.¡±


    Kurt frowned. ¡°Wait, why do you have to go? Why not stay here, improve your skill instead of just your power?¡±


    ¡°Skill is something I¡¯ll develop while I¡¯m away. Hopefully, I¡¯ll gain allies. But if Bacchus finds out his predecessor is loose, he won¡¯t stop hunting me. The safest place to hide is in plain sight, right there with the rest of his crop. And the tournament is when he¡¯ll be at his most vulnerable. Whatever he plans to do to those people, whatever influence he¡¯s going to exert, if I can push back, he¡¯ll be weakened.¡±


    Dorian¡¯s eyes locked onto Kurt¡¯s, his voice steady.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to break his will. You have to trust me. And when the time comes, you have to find me.¡±


    He took a slow breath, steadying himself.


    ¡°Find me at the tournament. The Valley depends on it.¡±


    ¡°Fine, but only under one condition.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°You have to beat me in a game of darts.¡±


    Dorian wiped his face, his skin flushed red. Kurt could see the pressure weighing on him. He had faith in his little brother, but he also knew Dorian¡¯s confidence could waver just as quickly as it surged.


    ¡°Shade darts or regular darts?¡±


    Kurt waved a hand, summoning several black darts into his palm, and smiled.


    ¡°I don''t see this storm lasting another day.¡± Kurt said, looking Quena in the eye. ¡°Can I count on you, Quena?¡±


    She looked him over again, sounding indifferent she said, ¡°what did you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°We have to get my father to safety, and we have to hide. Its all going to come to a head, and I''ll have to find Moder before we''re done. Will you help us save the Valley?¡±


    When she didn''t respond right away, he added, ¡°would it help if I added fame and my undying appreciation to the pot?¡±


    Her brown eyes held his, assessing his conviction and finding it adequate to the task. She raised a finger, ¡°If you screw this up, Kurt, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±

 Chapter 31 - Recovery and Revelation

    Of course, many simply believe the cost of using such raw power of Gia and Shade to be caloric in nature. This is true, to an extent. The rest of the cost comes in the form of exhaustion. Not the simple kind where one can rest, but only the kind that can be had from sleep. Something about dipping into the unconscious mind allows that certain something to replenish itself. This is why, when one is early on in their training, they may summon a vast amount of Gia only to wake hours later. Perhaps that is where my strength comes from, for it is such a challenge to sleep. His voice seldom lets me do so.


    Dorian woke with a headache the size of the Monastery Mountain. It throbbed in a way that made him shut his eyes, wincing from the jagged light only caused more throbbing, however. Though it was a challenge, he relaxed the muscles of his face. The throbbing lessened but didn''t disappear.


    Someone grabbed his head with strong icy fingers, prying his eyelid open, Dorian instinctively swiped the hand away.


    ¡°Well?¡± Came a choppy voice. Dorian recognized it.


    ¡°He''ll live.¡± Replied a monotone voice.


    Curious, Dorian half opened one eye to see someone he didn''t recognize, at least not up close. He was Grand Master Flint, the great head to the healers. Dorian would have gasped if he weren''t in so much pain.


    ¡°What does that even mean? Good, he''ll live, but how long before he''s fit?¡±


    Turning his head slowly, Master Flint addressed Brother Michael without inflection. ¡°four to six months should be sufficient. His head will ache, and he should avoid excessive pressure to his vascular system. Try not to overstimulate his adrenal system either, this type of healing can also ruin his central nervous system as well.¡± There was a coldness to his voice, a certain nothing that Dorian couldn''t put a finger on.


    ¡°To his what?¡±


    ¡°I would explain in further detail, but I do not answer to you. Let him rest for a few months. The youth recover quickly enough. You may need to pick an alternative candidate.¡±


    Dorian wasn''t sure if Brother Michael was sighing or growling. After the noise subsided, there was a long breath before Michael said, ¡°he can''t miss his training. We are on a strict timeline, and that''s directly from the Grand Elder himself. We need to use the seventh ring.¡±


    There was a long moment in which the air seemed to still. The tension was palpable, like the thin layer of ice over a pond shortly after the first freeze. Dorian squinted, seeing little more than Master Flint''s back, his dark robes billowing as he turned to stare at Brother Michael. There, on the man''s face, an icy stare that made Dorian want to shiver, if not for the fact that it would undeniably draw the attention of that stare in full force.


    ¡°You are aware, Brother Michael, that going so deep isn''t possible unless he is using his own Shade.¡±


    Brother Michael didn''t back down an inch. ¡°I''m aware. He can.¡±


    Still lifeless, Master Flint''s voice echoed throughout the stone chamber with the monotone that made Dorian think of the word ¡°doldrums.¡± Something about the man was absolutely dead inside, it was galling. Dorian wanted to flee, to leave, anything but be in this room with that soulless man.


    ¡°Have you brought this to the Arcanum?¡± It was a simple question, but the way that Brother Michael''s shoulders dropped, one would assume he had just lost a loved one.


    ¡°It is a recent development, considering his age, I haven''t decided yet. Besides, he doesn''t fall under my tutelage. He belongs to Sister Brenda, she is his closest.¡±


    ¡°As he is now a contestant to the tournament, I believe he falls under your responsibility. No matter. If you wish, I will allow access.¡±


    Master Flint picked something up off the table, scribbled something down, and handed it off to Brother Michael. ¡°I expect a full report before the tournament. Ah, that reminds me.¡±


    Dorian shut his eyes as he saw the Master move his direction. ¡°He hasn''t placed his bid to the lottery, has he?¡±


    Dorian heard movement, Master Flint handing another parchment to Brother Michael. ¡°As I''m sure you know, make sure not to touch this with your skin.¡±


    Without farewell, Master Flint turned on his heel, long robes billowing behind him as he left the room.


    ¡°What a dick.¡± Dorian croaked, though he knew he might get a scolding for it.


    Brother Michael looked sidelong at Dorian, smirking. ¡°You were awake the whole time?¡±


    Dorian was going to shake his head but thought better of it. ¡°No, but I heard enough. What''s the Arcanum?¡±


    The bone-tired weary sigh that escaped Brother Michael was a masterpiece. It conveyed how far beyond frustrated and exhausted he felt, even if Dorian didn''t have the first clue as to what could leave the energetic older man so drained.


    ¡°Are you good enough to move?¡± He asked, short and to the point.


    ¡°Not unless Kressor and three lesser Gods were chasing me.¡±


    ¡°I''ll get the chair.¡± He said, sounding at the end of his rope.


    When Brother Michael handed Dorian a bucket, he felt rather confused. When Brother Michael implied that he''d need it shortly, he was doubly confused. As Dorian stood for himself in the brief moment it took to get from bed to wheelchair, everything came clear. It was a barf bucket and little did Dorian know that they would be well acquainted before the end of their mutual journey. From Dorian''s perspective, it was all confusing. Sitting still was fine, but the moment they started moving, he simply couldn''t manage. It was like he was exempt from the ever-turning world, like he could see it shifting but was no longer a part of it. The rooms spun as they passed, and though he had some clarity earlier, that vanished as his reptilian brain took hold. Finally, after an unknown amount of time passed, Brother Michael had begun speaking to him. It was comforting, even if Dorian didn''t recognize the speech. They were still from time to time, only then did Dorian return to himself long enough to understand.


    ¡°Dorian, I need you to create a barrier around yourself, like you did in the courtyard.¡± Michael¡¯s tone was firm, but there was no mistaking the worry beneath it. He exhaled a weary sigh. ¡°Boy, I¡¯d slap you if you weren¡¯t so damn hurt. There¡¯s too much on the line here, we need to get you patched up before you fall behind. The Valley needs you.¡±


    Dorian tried to respond, but his throat felt thick, his mind sluggish.


    Michael muttered under his breath. ¡°Brenda is going to have my, well, never mind that.¡± He snapped his fingers in front of Dorian¡¯s face. ¡°Summon your Shade. All the way around yourself. Come on, Dorian. Move it, Hook!¡±


    That last bit finally cut through the fog in Dorian¡¯s head. Instinct took over.


    Pulling on his Shade was as natural as breathing. It came from somewhere deep inside him, like the exhilarating drop in his stomach before a fall, a sensation so intoxicating he feared he might grow addicted to it.


    He pulled, and his Shade enveloped him completely.


    Then he was falling in earnest, crashing through thin walls of ice in rapid succession, one after another, until, finally, he came to a stop.


    The next half hour involved Brother Michael cursing as he pulled Dorian, soaked to the bone, out of a running spring. It stank, like that of mildew and damp. A place untouched for a very long time. Finally, after gasping for breath, beaten, concussed, and vomiting, Dorian slipped away from consciousness and was utterly grateful for it.


    He was running through the wood, fear filling him to the brink. He was being hunted, hounded, bayed. There is something utterly unnerving to the sight of the wood on a moonless night. There is a primal fear instilled in every human since the dawn of sentience, it was this kind of fear he ran from. The brush that pulled at his shins, the thorns that scraped him, the low hanging branches that he had to maneuver away from, all of these things were challenges, but what held him in the grips of terror was the unerring darkness that seemed to swell like so many cascades.


    His breathe was short, the sweat rolling down his face began to blind him. He could taste the salty runoff of his own steaming head, but these were little more than distractions. The leaves that rustled beneath him was just another piece of the collage. The terror, the terror was all.


    That breathing blackness swelled, it was fury and outrage, it was madness, it was the sweet relief of vaulting into the abyss.


    ¡°It''s okay, Dorian. If you need me, all you have to do is ask.¡± Came a feminine voice.


    ¡°Me too, but I come at a price. One you can afford, though you may not wish to pay it.¡± Sounded another feminine voice, this was articulate and calculating.


    ¡°Damn ''em both, Dor. We don''t need them, we can do this with or without, because you already got me.¡± Said a young man as a hand cupped his shoulder.


    ¡°Don''t forget our deal, or our bargain, little Dorian. Metae smiles upon those that fulfill their obligations, and Kressor gifts those willing to play at chance.¡± Said a twisted voice, rocks grating.


    ¡°He''ll do no such thing, Kressor''s blessing or no. Stand up straight, Dorian. Chest out, that''s a boy.¡± Said Sister Brenda.


    ¡°Back away from my son, you hussy. Bad enough you almost stole Rand.¡± Said an older woman.


    ¡°Stole? My beloved, my heart had been stolen from the moment our eyes met. Your sister was never really in the equation. Now, do we have enough firewood? There''s bread to be baked, and it wont get done until these ovens are hot. Where is that boy...¡±


    His dreams came and went, his ability to stay awake somehow gone. He would come out of his pitched dreams but only for short stints. Just long enough to chew something and wash it down. He would fight the urge to go back under, but it was useless. His eyes would barely adapt to the poor lighting, then he¡¯d be down again. He¡¯d wake to seemingly random people, though from time to time it was someone he recognized. Clarice was one, Sister Brenda another, Brother Michael, even Master Flint. Other initiates, though from an older class. He vaguely remembered sponge baths and the taste of some kind of bitter mushroom. Every time, however, the weight of sleep seemed to push down on his mind, and he would be dreaming once more.


    There was a light, a small thing really. Just a glimmer, a hope. The darkness saw it too, and Dorian moved with every bit of himself towards it. His bulk was ungainly but his will unbending. He dived towards it.


    He was standing again, a group of his peers before him shouting something. There was a pool, a warm spring. The steamy fog drifting upwards from it. She broke from the crowd, gripping his face. As she did, her hood fell back, her long flowing hair and her blue eyes entrancing. She leaned in and kissed him. His eyes bulged for a moment, but he melted shortly thereafter. His light dimmed, but his heart swelled. He felt accepted, like he had passed some test. Still holding his face, she leaned back. Dorian wasn''t capable of thought at that moment, so it had never occurred to him that they were falling until the pool came up to meet them. They were going to...If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Dorian sat up, gasping. His head throbbed, but not as harshly as it had before. His mouth was parched, saturated with a layer of dried spit that accompanied a long night of deep sleep. He coughed, which made his head reel once more. He took a long shuddering breath, trying to bring the world back in to focus.


    A door opened. The brilliant light was too much, so Dorian put his hands up as he turned his head away.


    ¡°Bright.¡± He croaked.


    ¡°Oh, sorry.¡± The door closed shortly after. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±  Asked a soft voice.


    ¡°Thirsty.¡± He choked out.


    ¡°Oh, right. Let me give you a hand.¡±


    In the dark, it was hard to tell what was going on. Instinctively, he summoned a bit of Gia for his eyes. It was odd that it was becoming so natural to him, but it was. He couldn''t recall the last time he''d even bothered using his primes.


    Looking over, he could see the woman''s outline but wasn''t sure who it was. She offered him a mug and he took it without hesitation. It could have been pure alcohol at that point, he just needed something wet.


    He drank deeply, after two long drinks he left enough in the bottom to rinse his mouth out and spit.


    ¡°Gross.¡± The young woman commented.


    ¡°No, gross was the taste in my mouth.¡±


    A snort followed and she took the cup and set it down.


    ¡°Lets try again, how are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Like the most ragged set of robes in the Monastery, after they''d been stripped down to rags, and used to clean the stoves.¡±


    There was a pause before she said, ¡°that''s... descriptive?¡±


    ¡°My head feels muddy. Where am I?¡±


    ¡°You''re back in the training grounds. You''re in the over-sized bed of your personal chamber.¡± As she said this she leaned against one of the tall posts towards the foot of the bed.


    ¡°Are you a healer? My head feels like a squished orange.¡±


    ¡°It was a squished orange for a bit there. I''ve never seen so much blood.¡± She tapered off at the end.


    ¡°How long have I been out?¡± Dorian asked as he realized he must have fallen behind.


    ¡°Technically? A few days, but only to me. For you?¡± She shrugged, ¡°a few months.¡±


    Dorian shut his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes. ¡°How does that even work?¡±


    ¡°Brother Michael took you somewhere, somewhere much slower than here. I''m not very good with time bubbles, the dangers aren''t worth it, but I do know that Brother Michael wont be coming back for a while. Here, let me see if I can help with that headache.¡±


    A series of waves began to pulse from her hand as she reached out towards him. Through his sight, he could see a surge of Gia starting from her core, running through her hand, and inching towards his head. When it met him, there was a harsh sensation, like when you held two lodestones the wrong way. After a bit of pressure, they flipped, and for the briefest moment he could feel her. The feeling was so startling that Dorian dropped his Gia. He heard her gasp.


    ¡°It''s okay, Sorry. I... I just didn''t know. I''m good now, try again?¡±


    Tentatively, she raised her hand again. This time, a slight prickling sensation ran through his body, top to bottom and up again. It settled at the back of his head. It was odd, but he could feel his body knitting itself back together again. After a moment, she stopped.


    ¡°That should help, but you might need to sleep.¡± She said, sounding rather drowsy herself.


    ¡°Okay.¡± He replied, as eloquently as he could. His body felt heavy again, his eyes wanting nothing more than to shut.


    ¡°I''ll go get you some more water.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°I''ve stolen your pants, and I intend to sell them at the Grand Tournament when you win.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Go to sleep.¡± She said, command in her voice.


    Without the will to fight it, Dorian began drifting.


    He dreamt then, a twist of things he could vaguely recall on waking. Some kind, others, not so much. He had dreams about fighting and losing, fighting and winning. Dreams of storybook endings where he valiantly saved the day, got the girl, and all were better for it. Then the other dreams, the things that were closer to reality which ended in misery. He failed while all the people he cared for begged for aid. Other times, he succeeded but became crippled or marred beyond hope of repair. Sometimes he stole power, became a dictator, sometimes he became the next Grand Elder.  In every narrative, he was left with a sense of possibility, in every dream there was always a thimble of truth. Every dream started with the Grand Tournament.


    Dorian woke, sluggish, but grateful to be back in the real. The cup of water by his bed didn''t stand a chance, nor did the adjacent jug. He was parched beyond belief, and after clearing the taste of deep sleep from his mouth, he knew he stank. He sniffed under his arm, then scowled to himself. Why do I always stink of onions?


    He got up, making his way over to the privy. He had a private bath, and running water that would take his waste away. Modern miracle though it was, he still didn''t understand half of the wonders of the Monastery. He scrubbed incessantly after getting out of his robes. He wondered idly who had changed him, but didn''t want to dive too deep down that rabbit hole. He was still embarrassed by his own nudity, though he must have lost a stone since he had fallen asleep. No, not asleep, knocked out cold.


    Dorian rubbed the back of his head, there was some scarring there, coinciding with lack of hair in some spots. He ran his hand down the back of his head feeling the scars. The worst had a small bump, he hadn''t been knocked out, he realized, he had been brained. Broken against the stone, smashed like a walnut. He was lucky to be alive.


    He dunked his head under the warm water, allowing his face to relax. He ran his fingers through his hair, the sides and back had all been shaven, though his hair up top seemed to be outrageously long. He finished washing but struggled to get out of the warm water. It was nice to simply soak when he could, though it always seemed as though something...


    ¡°Dorian, are you awake?¡± He heard in his head. He nearly lost control of his bladder.


    Sitting up he said, ¡°who''s there?¡± His voice was odd in his own ears. Deeper than he remembered.


    ¡°Go to your robes.¡± The voice was feminine, the one from before?


    ¡°Fine, but you''ll have to tell me who you are.¡±


    He waited, but there wasn''t a response. Sighing a sigh that only a teenager can do properly, Dorian got out and went to his stinky sweat laden robes. ¡°Okay, I''m at my robes.¡±


    ¡°Reach into the breast pocket.¡±


    Dorian looked around the room, though it was spacious, it wasn''t so spacious that it could hide a peeping Tom. He mused to himself what to call a peeping female, but couldn''t come up with anything clever. Disheartened slightly, he reached into the pocket and pulled out the note that had been placed in the book Malik had let him read. It was the list of rulings in accordance to the last Grand Tournament.


    ¡°Ah, you''ve finally found it. Well done, I''d have been furious had you lost it. Do you have any idea how much time it took to make that?¡±


    ¡°About as much time as it takes to copy words from a rule book?¡±


    ¡°No you dolt, the runes. That took me three weeks, and was my first success.¡±


    ¡°Wait, were you testing it on me?!¡± Dorian said, outraged.


    ¡°Keep it down, we aren''t supposed to know about Technum .¡±


    ¡°I don''t give a twisted nip! Were you testing that on me?! Who are you? What gives you the right?!¡±


    Silence stretched out for a long moment, no response. Balls.


    Dorian found a towel and dried himself off. He pulled at his Gia, looking through it he could see the very fine and intricate work instilled in the paper. What¡¯s more, whomever this person was had a keen eye for delicate details. Furthermore, she could use her Gia and Shade. Whomever she was, she had to be circumspect, otherwise there would be consequences.


    The thought brought to mind Brother Michael, and Master Flint. The latter made him shiver uncontrollably. For someone so bent on healing, the man barely had a soul. Gods, tell me he was the one to change me. I wouldn''t care if...


    The door creaked open a bit, and Dorian panicked. He grabbed his towel, covered the most inappropriate bits, then proceeded to cover his chest as best he could with his arm. He realized then that he had assumed the most iconic pose a person could assume after being walked in on. He blushed at his stupidity as the door shut, only now noticing the white linen tunic and trousers that had been placed on the floor besides. A moment passed before he took a step towards the door.


    An unfamiliar voice said, ¡°I don''t know why you''re blushing, not like I haven''t seen it all before.¡±


    He could have died right then and there.


    After some time, Dorian finally settled, though his thoughts churned like a storm. His eyes remained fixed on the little piece of folded paper resting on a decorative protrusion in the wall.


    It looked so unassuming. Yet, that slip of rune-etched Technum had infiltrated his mind, burrowed into his thoughts, sifted through his most private reflections. It was like finding out, if he had one, that his personal journal had been read cover to cover. His deepest confessions, his self-doubts, his stray musings, all laid bare to someone else.


    Had his thoughts truly been his own these past weeks?


    He scowled. There were moments, definitive ones, that stood out in sharp relief. Raising his staff and shouting in defiance before losing consciousness. Choosing to go to Malik¡¯s party despite the risk of getting caught so close to lights-out. And hell, stripping down in front of thirty people. The second his tunic came off, he had felt a deep, gut-wrenching terror, the boldness that had carried him to that moment vanishing in an instant.


    Had that been his bravery? Or hers?


    Red-hot anger burned through him. He scrubbed his teeth furiously, brushed his hair back, and tied it into a short tail. When he glanced at the mirror in his washroom, the sight of himself nearly stopped him in his tracks.


    His face looked... longer. His cheekbones were visible for the first time in his life. The softness around his jaw had thinned, revealing a sharper line beneath. A scraggly patch of hair had begun growing under his chin, ugly and uneven, so he took a razor to it, wincing as he nicked himself once or twice.


    When he finished, he ran a hand over his smooth skin. He wasn¡¯t anything to swoon over, but there was something satisfying in the reflection staring back at him.


    There¡¯s something under there, he admitted to himself. I might actually be...


    He shook the thought away and turned back to the paper.


    "I don¡¯t know why you did this," he muttered aloud, fingers brushing over its creases. "But you did help me, even if you violated my privacy."


    A part of him, a younger, angrier part, wanted to tear it to shreds, to ruin this person''s work simply out of spite. But as his grip tightened, he hesitated.


    For the first time in his life, he didn¡¯t feel like being petty.


    Whether it was curiosity, restraint, or something else entirely, he tucked the little page into his tunic.


    Steeling himself, he stepped toward the door and pushed it open.


    The room beyond was empty. That was odd.


    He frowned, stepping into the hall. It was dark, the vaulted chamber beyond shrouded in shadow. No candlelight, no flickering lanterns.


    Midnight.


    And for the first time in a long while, he felt entirely, unnervingly alone.


    Unfortunately, he was wide awake. He thought about exercising, getting back into shape, but running the circuit alone sounded like an awful idea. He had barely explored the halls, from the main chamber there were several flights of stairs heading upwards. He remembered being curious about them before, but since there had been little time before he hadn''t checked them out. I can go back to my room, do nothing until the others get up, or...


    He kept his steps light, wary of waking the other contestants or drawing unwanted attention.


    To his surprise, he could channel Gia here. The circuit should have warded against it, that much he was certain of. Being able to channel Gia this close to a containment zone contradicted much of the ¡°forbidden¡± knowledge he had gained by snooping about the library. The curiosity nagged at him, but not nearly as much as whatever waited at the top of the stairs.


    There were breaks in the flights of stairs, a total of four floors. The second floor was another set of living quarters, though smaller than the ones below. The next floor was a bit confusing at first. The first two rooms down the hall were blank, just a few chairs and desks arranged in a circular fashion. The following room, however, defined the area as one of learning. The third room was a surprisingly well stocked library. Remembering how he felt about the massive library at the base of the Monastery, he had to inspect it.


    He had to summon his maxim of Gia, which had grown significantly since he last checked, and stretched the melon sized ball out to the ceiling. On the way, it illuminated a railing. Stretching it sideways, he found another door above and a set of stairs heading towards another part of the room. The walls were stuffed with books, and he was suddenly excited as he saw no warding to any section. He couldn''t make out how the books were organized, but he knew that he would have plenty of time to figure it out. His thoughts led to the little book he had stolen, the journal that made him uneasy to read.


    He hadn''t had the time to thoroughly dig through it, and even if he had, he didn''t want to. The thoughts in that book were disturbing, though he could never remember the text itself, it sent a pang of unease through him when he acknowledged the source of those words. The Grand Elder.


    He shivered as the thought of the old man writhing about his chambers ran through his head. The long night on the cold stone, the laughing, the weeping, the screaming.


    Shaking his head to clear it, he went up the stairs he had spotted earlier. The quiet of the room was so ominous, the green light of his Gia showing the way, but the deep dark of the room beyond egged at his unease. The soft sound of his feet padding the carpets was the only sound echoing throughout the room, that and the sound of his own breathing. Coming to the top, he followed the wall around, reading titles as he went. Most of these were simpler texts, histories of the Valley, Kressian culture, mathematics, geometry, various studies on science, human biology, and an entire slew of introductory volumes on the various Primes. As he came to the next tall shelf he found a gap. Peering through, a short hall led to another door.


    Figuring the library would be far more enjoyable with proper lighting, he made his way down the hall and pushed the door open. The wood creaked as the hinges groaned, but as he stepped into the next corridor, a wave of rich, savory aromas washed over him. The scent of fresh food cooking curled through the air, warm and inviting.


    His stomach growled so deeply he feared it might wake the others.


    There was a light down the hall, and he guessed that it must be close enough to dawn that someone was busy preparing food for the day.


    Sorry, Dorian. The sled is out of commission, you''ll have to haul it all by hand for the next few days.


    Dorian blinked, where had that come from?


    Entering the room that was lit, he saw a familiar face. He smiled.


    ¡°Would you like a hand, Clarice?¡± he asked, smiling impishly.

 Chapter 32 - King of the Wilds

    Chapter ¨C 32


    The greatest obstacle to control is human nature itself, curious, inventive, and endlessly defiant. Before I outlawed technological progression under my little religion, I was forced, every few hundred years, to snuff out some poor genius who threatened to disrupt the balance. A pity, really. Some of them devised truly fascinating innovations.


    The most intriguing was a glyph, born from the mind of one of my own priests. A construct designed to siphon Gia from those unable to wield it, funneling their essence downward, just as the reservoir does. When I took his life, I took his creation as well, repurposing it for something far greater. Now, every major structure I build sits atop one of these glyphs. Like the containment fields, their power grows with scale. The larger they are, the stronger the hold.


    Of course, I built a flaw into them. Without it, even I might fall victim to their effects. Within each glyph, there remains a sliver of untouched ground, ten percent of the whole, a sanctuary amid the siphoning tide.


    On the final day, in the blood-soaked Colosseum, I will take my place in that untouched space. Once activated, only myself and the competitors will be unaffected. Even then, those competitors will be at the mercy of my Technum, drinking whole the influence of another entity. When the time comes, there will be no question. I will stand beyond reach. I will be untouchable.


    The storm settled late that night, but the next day was too muddy to get anything done. The following day Quena and Kurt scavenged, tracked, and explored. On the third day they found the encampment belonging to the Metan militia. It was abandoned and had been for at least a week. They took most of their supplies but left behind the strangest things. A Vega token with a scratch down the center, an assortment of wooden carvings, spare clothes and the like. Kurt rummaged to find some hard bread, a proper cooking pot, and his father''s special cutting knives.


    ¡°This is odd,¡± Kurt said to Quena as she was lifting some leather bags, she held them away from herself and was pinching her nose.


    ¡°The spoiled meat in these leather bags, yes, it is very odd.¡± She walked off to the side of the camp and heaved its contents out, bringing back the bag. ¡°Here ya go, one travel bag.¡± She tried to smile, but the smell was obviously getting to her.


    ¡°Just set it down, I''ll clean it out in a moment. Check this out though, these are my father''s.¡± He picked up the leather roll and untied the strap at the end allowing the knives to be seen.


    ¡°Uh, nice knife set?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, a very nice knife set. My father wouldn''t have left camp without these, he''d have left me behind before doing the same to his precious cutlery.¡±


    Quena grimaced, looking contemplative.


    ¡°I have a feeling you''re not telling me something.¡± He gave her a shifty eyed look, and she balked at it.


    ¡°I was worried about this.¡± She said but didn''t sound confident. ¡°If what you said is true, I think I know where they went.¡± Her mouth made a line.


    ¡°And that would be?¡±


    ¡°With the Kressians.¡± A corner of her mouth shot downwards, then she said, ¡°I''ve only heard of one person that can do this. If I didn''t believe you before, I believe you now.¡± She decided to busy herself by taking the stinking leather bag down to the nearby stream.


    ¡°Wait, what is that supposed to mean?¡± Kurt shouted as she walked away.


    ¡°The Grand Elder. What the-¡± Quena''s voice shut off, and Kurt hopped up, discarding the knives and ran over.


    There, gasping for breath on the ground, was one of Moder''s children, a Kul. It had something in his chest, blackened blood covered the thing. Looking at his face, Kurt recognized him.


    ¡°Oh shit, Quena, you have to heal him!¡± Kurt shouted, but she was paralyzed. ¡°Quena, now!¡± She was stunned, so Kurt moved to shake her by her shoulders, which is when he saw it. The thing that was around the Kul''s injury was writhing, and he realized all the black wasn''t simply dried blood, it was Shade, though it wasn''t behaving like any Shade he''d ever seen. It dripped out, wiggling through the grass. Following the line, though it was incredibly fine, it stood in stark contrast to Quena''s skin. It had worked its way up Quena''s body and disappeared into her ear.


    Kurt summoned his Gia, enveloping Quena and the Kul. Kurt was honestly impressed he''d summoned enough to encapsulate both of them, but stuffed the thought to the back of his mind. He purified the Gia, siphoning the Shade out of their bodies. No, not Shade, Kraken.


    It felt wrong, like stealing a drink of stout from a fellow villager only to find it was brache spit. Kurt gasped at first but redoubled his efforts. It took much longer than usual, it was like the black gunk had a will of its own and was refusing to be consumed. Tension mounted, but finally it struggled no more and sucked into him like water down a drain.


    Kurt took a long shuddering breath and found that he was on his hands and knees. He felt like he''d hurl at any moment, so he focused on his breathing, taking measured inhalations and exhaling as smoothly as he could. Which is to say, as smooth as a landslide. Regardless, Quena was back to her senses before Kurt was.


    ¡°Hey!¡± She shook him slightly. ¡°Kurt, everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Just... heal... him.¡± He spoke each word after a breath and shook as he pointed over to the Kul.


    Though Kurt couldn''t see Quena''s expression, he was getting better at which emotional response to expect, and at that moment he had a good guess as to what she looked like. ¡°Just... do it.¡± He sat back on his backside and pulled his knees to his chest. He was fighting a mental battle and thought he''d lose it if he had to focus on anything but the gut twisting sensation he felt.


    Quena walked over and laid a hand on the gnarled looking Kul, its rictus face frozen in a look of unease. His head began jerking back and forth, his nose long enough to noticeably wiggle, even at Kurt''s distance. Watching helped him somehow, like finally hacking his way out of a thicket, he broke through. A relief washed through him and just like that, he was up and bounding towards the downed monster. He knew this one, it was little Turt, all grown up.


    ¡°Touk kretata Turt, ou kokos tien Moder?¡± Kurt said, as best he could. He hadn''t picked up as much as he liked, but he remembered enough to get by. His accent made him sound like a rooster dying at the sunrise, and his understanding was about as good as bark is tasty, but he liked to think he made it sound convincing.


    Turt looked him over, squinting his over-sized eyes. Eventually, he put his hand up to shield the light seeping in through the tree line. His eyes shot wide, with his hands flailing upwards he bounded over and picked Kurt up off the ground in an incredibly bracing hug.


    The experience blurred in the details. The first revelation was understanding just how far Turt stood. He wasn¡¯t as close as he seemed, and when Kurt stepped forward, a wave of vertigo nearly took him.


    Turt had to be at least seven feet tall, lanky, his arms long and awkward, his frame still filling out but unmistakably solid.


    What in the hell has Moder been feeding these things?


    Then the shape of the head, the long musculature moving along each side of his head to its sagittal crest gave Turt an aspect the other Kul didn''t have. His pronounced jaw muscles were prominent, even if his skin was as black as night.


    ¡°Turt like K-K-Kurt. Missed.¡± He nodded, his oversized skull bobbing up and down after he put Kurt back down.


    ¡°Kurt like Turt. Where is your Moder?¡± Kurt asked quickly.


    ¡°Moder? Ista kreta krak, ki nicktek.¡±


    ¡°Come again? I can''t follow that quickly.¡±


    ¡°Moder is... ground? By k-human, k-k-Kressiak. With fire, with food.¡±


    Quena stood next to Kurt giving him a quizzical look. He mirrored her, not because he felt quizzical but because he wanted to get her to relax. Seeing one of the Kul for the first time was an unnerving experience, one that most people didn''t handle well. To his surprise, she turned and spoke, not even a little uncomfortable.


    ¡°Can you show? Take us to Moder?¡±


    Turt looked down at Kurt, then to Quena, then back to Kurt. Kurt nodded once, and Turt agreed.


    ¡°Turt come here when big bad come, try to take k-k-Kraken, much new.¡± Turt''s eyes glazed over momentarily, and Kurt knew the face he was making.


    Not wanting to see a seven-foot-tall monster crying like a babe, Kurt put a hand up on his shoulder. Any taller and Kurt wouldn''t have been able to. Looking him in the eye, Kurt said, ¡°Turt do much good, Kurt proud,¡± Kurt put a thumb to his chest, then pointed the same hand at Turt, ¡°of you.¡± Turt''s chin quivered momentarily, but he steeled himself and turned.


    ¡°Kri-tetet, come, follow.¡± Just like that, Quena and Kurt had a guide.


    The wooded path was relatively clean, though Kurt didn''t like the idea of being so exposed. The sparse bushes and weeds growing intermittently were the only hindrance to their travel, even if spring was coming on with a quickness. The greenery was filling in, trees budding their flowers and weeds flourishing as quickly as ever, it was part of what made the Wilds so wonderful, the vibrant growth of life.


    The thought caught him off guard, because it was usually a day like this, every year, that the trappers would head out. They would catalog any changes to their paths, set new traps, and do so in groups as the hungry predators would be on the prowl. The air was a bit chilly yet, but not so bad as just a few days before. It seemed the season was well and truly there, and Kurt couldn''t help but grin at the simplicity of life before all of this began. He would be there again, lost in the endless woods or exploring with his little brother, finding all the wonders the Wilds had to offer was an endless yet fulfilling endeavor.


    As his gaze wandered the surrounding path, he spotted a few broken branches and stopped. Tilting his head, he walked over to further inspect it.


    ¡°Kurt, what are you doing?¡± Quena asked from behind him.


    ¡°Just having a look at these, something passed this way. Just making sure we don''t run into a great bear, or something equally terrifying.¡±


    ¡°I''m not worried about a wild animal, I can work my, what did you call it? Hoodoo?¡± She chuckled softly.


    ¡°I know, but it''s better to avoid something like that. They''re faster than you think, and I''d rather take a moment now than any of the alternatives.¡± Kurt bent down, picking up the broken branch, then spotted another nearby, except the other happened to be large enough to look like a sapling. He inspected further beyond the tree line, only to find that there were several larger limbs placed in such a way to look natural but Kurt knew better. ¡°Hey look, I think there''s a... Ah-ha!¡±


    Kurt moved a few more limbs to reveal a well trodden path heading uphill slightly. The path headed over a small rise where it disappeared. ¡°Hey, Turt, how far to Moder?¡±


    ¡°K-k-k-can''t tell. Near, but not near.¡± He started walking through the brush and made a racket as he did.  Kurt wouldn''t be sneaking up on anyone with Turt around. ¡°Okay, okay. We find Moder first, but we should mark this spot. Quena, do you see the scuffs here?¡± She nodded in acknowledgment, but didn''t say anything. ¡°That is a boot print, I have no doubt about it. Whether it was the men from my village or the Kressians, I''d wager this path will take us to them.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I''ll grow us something to mark it.¡±


    ¡°If it''s not too much trouble, I could go for some bitrus right about now.¡±


    She shook her head, ¡°how are you always hungry, and why aren''t you fat?¡±


    Kurt shrugged, ¡°when the gods dreamt me up, they had to give me at least one flaw.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± She rolled her eyes as she rummaged through her cloak finding the seeds. She placed one on the ground and put her hand over it, shutting her eyes. After a few seconds she frowned and tried again.


    ¡°Trouble getting it up?¡± Kurt said.


    ¡°That''s not funny.¡± She replied, alarm creeping in to her voice.


    ¡°What''s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Hang on.¡± She went to a nearby rock and put her hand over it. ¡°Oh shit, we''re in a containment field.¡±


    ¡°A whata-whata?¡±


    ¡°I can''t use my primes. This isn''t good, we need to get out of here.¡± Her eyes were wide, scanning everywhere and nowhere. ¡°Now, we need to get out of here now.¡± Her voice, no longer casual, was a harsh whisper.


    ¡°Okay, okay. Lets move.¡±


    Kurt spotted movement in his peripheral vision, a shadow at the crest of the rise just where the trail disappeared. Kurt swiveled his head to see several figures, more than six, staggering over. The newcomers had already spotted them, letting out a shriek and pointing.


    Kurt turned back to Quena and Turt, only to find that they had already made their way back to the trail. So much for camaraderie.


    Kurt bounded over the broken limbs, breaking through the tree line with all haste. Quena and Turt hadn''t gotten so far ahead, and Kurt felt guilty because he knew they weren''t going all out so that he had a chance to catch up. ¡°Just go!¡± He shouted at them.


    They picked up the pace, Turt moving faster than either of them. His bounds were long, the gate of something seven feet tall eating ground in a way Kurt couldn''t imagine. Unbidden, the thought of little Dorian broke into his mind, and all the times he bitched about not being as tall as Kurt finally made sense. No, Kurt, not the time.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Something shot past his head, a black blur that stuck to a tree in front of him. Its shape was that of something that slithered, and as he watched that''s exactly what it did. It slithered out of the tree, down to the ground, then past him. He chanced a look behind himself to see four or five people gaining gradually. Their movements were oafish, like they knew they could run but it was the first time they ever had. Their arms didn''t pump, and their strides were uncoordinated, but somehow, they were gaining on them. Kurt redoubled his efforts and found himself gaining on Quena before he knew it.


    ¡°Keep it up Quena, they''re gaining on us!¡±


    She was breathing heavily, her gate becoming just as lumbering as their pursuers. ¡°Quena, what''s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Not... used... to this,¡± she said between breaths. Then it hit him, she had no access to her abilities and had to rely on her body to do the heavy work. Several Shade bolts streaked passed them, and Quena slowed to return fire. Kurt joined her, blackness congealing in his hands, the dark light they emitted almost invisible as they came through a break in the trees. Turning in unison, they shot bolts back at their unknown foes. The black streaked through the air, two from Kurt and an impressive six from Quena. Two of them were struck and fell to the ground, another took a glancing blow at the shoulder but continued. Even at the distance their current distance, Kurt could make out the damage the glancing blow had caused, and it was disturbing. The arm had nearly been severed, the only thing keeping it attached a bit of loose flesh, and yet the man continued to run as though he couldn''t feel a thing.


    ¡°Quena, there''s something very wrong with this picture,¡± Kurt said as he grabbed her shoulder and ushered her to move along.


    ¡°You''re not wrong, they''re controlled.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Kurt said as he hurdled a fallen tree. Kurt spotted Turt standing by a set of boulders, possibly an entrance? Just then, he heard a snapping sound followed by a gasp, then a scream. Kurt turned, Quena lay on her back grasping her leg. She swore through her scream and rolled back and forth.


    Kurt started picking up speed, running to get Quena off the ground, but knew what he''d have to do. There''s always a cost.


    He summoned two Shade blades, elongated and sharp. A Shade bolt shot towards him, but Kurt wouldn''t have it. Instead of a simple parry, he threw a cloud of Gia out in front of himself, absorbing the bolt before it could skewer him. He heard loud steps beside him, so he shouted at Turt, ¡°take her to your Moder, tetet keenek tien Moder!¡±


    He was nearly to Quena, but instead of slowing to get her, he bounded over her, vaulting the fallen tree. He stood at the ready as the group approached. Thankfully they weren''t organized in any fashion, they came at him as quickly as they could without concern for tactics.


    Now that they were close, he could make out their faces, and his heart sank. Each of them were from Metan, each of them he knew. Then his gut churned as he saw their eyes, black like the depths of a moonless night. He felt sick for what he knew he had to do.


    Another bolt came, and he absorbed it. The enemy grew wise to this tactic, and from their hands came the slithering shape of a tentacle, the wicked edge they undoubtedly had sobered the mounting dread he felt.


    ¡°Jason, if you can hear me in there, I''m sorry!¡± Kurt shouted at the first of them that came at him, Jason''s face stuck in an expression that was something between anger and surprise. Kurt swung low, his own blades sharp, he severed Jason''s leg above the knee in a single stroke. He went down but was still swinging, Kurt had to parry the blow and hop back as the next opponent lunged at him. Kurt twisted, combining his two blades into a single staff. He brained the next one with a two handed blow, using the momentum to swing low at the next two. One dodged, but the other was caught at the ankle, falling to his back. Kurt never gave him a moment and thrust his staff through the man''s face. Carl. That was Carl''s face.


    The others were now surrounding him, and he knew he couldn''t let that happen. He spun his staff around him, sharpening the ends as he did. A small break in the formation led Kurt that direction as a few danced back away from his strikes. One stabbed at him and he parried but did so too hard. His parry threw off his footing and he stumbled, but instead of falling he used it to power a broad sided bash to his opponent''s head from the middle of his staff. The man fell back, stunned, jutting blood from his nose.


    Their pursuers, no longer concerned with Quena or Turt, finally turned their full attention to Kurt. As they did, he caught a glimpse of Turt bounding away, Quena''s face looking back at him for a brief moment.


    As a parting gift, she sent a volley of black crescents in his direction. The razor-sharp projectiles tore through the air, peppering their enemies from behind. One man took a shot clean through the skull and collapsed, twitching. But there were far more of them than Kurt had anticipated. His stomach churned as realization set in.


    He knew what he had to do.


    Summoning every ounce of strength he had, he called on his power. A green glow surrounded him, thickening into a swirling cloud. His Shade coiled at a single level, pooling into a dense mass before extending outward. He began spinning his staff above his head¡ªnot because he had to, but because it grounded him. Every time he wielded Gia without movement, vertigo threatened to take him.


    The enemy hesitated, hovering at the edges of his storm. They were wary, but they hadn''t fled. His skin crawled, his stomach twisted, his ears popped with the shift in energy. He was ready to unleash hell.


    Then something small flickered at the edge of his vision.


    A speck, no, a fist-sized blur, raced toward him.


    The rock struck him hard across the temple.


    Wow, he thought, right before everything went black. I really didn¡¯t see that coming.


    Kurt opened his eyes with the worst headache he''d ever had. It felt like there were drums beating away at the back of his head. He bore it for about two seconds before consciousness slipped away like the sun setting over the horizon.


    You have to find me, Kurt.


    He woke to a dull, pulsing pain in his head, nothing like before, but still enough to keep his thoughts sluggish. His vision swam, the world around him hazy and indistinct.


    The tent flaps had been pulled back, allowing firelight to spill into the dim space. Outside, a campfire blazed against the night, its glow casting long, shifting shadows.


    Then he saw them.


    Dozens, no, countless, figures stood in absolute silence around the fire. Unmoving. Watching. A sickening unease crawled up his spine. Every instinct screamed at him to run.


    He pulled against whatever held him, but his wrists and chest were bound, not with rope, but with something firmer, something that tightened as he struggled. He fought against it, twisting, wrenching, but it refused to give. He called to his Shade.


    The moment it began to coalesce, laughter erupted, sharp, barking laughter that sent a fresh wave of dread through him. It wasn¡¯t just one voice, no. Every figure around the fire laughed in perfect unison, the same tone, the same timing, like puppets pulled by a single string. The shadowy forms nearest to him parted. Firelight illuminated a single face. Kurt¡¯s breath caught. It was his father.


    His voice, undoubtedly his father, had a unique resonance to it, something unnatural. Whether it was the cadence or the rhetoric, Kurt was sure that it wasn''t his father speaking.


    ¡°Good evening, Kurtis Hunt, I''m glad you could join us.¡± The smile that his father wore didn''t meet his eyes, eyes that were black as the night silhouetting everyone else. He waved his hand, and whatever was binding him fell away. ¡°Come and have a sit with us, we''ve been dying to see if you''d wake up any time soon.¡±


    Two of the dark figures came into the tent, standing beside him. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I get the hint.¡± Kurt muttered as he rubbed his wrists, a tingling sensation washing through his hands. He came out of the tent to see that the outlines of the people he had seen before were nothing more than a drop in the kettle. Countless bodies stood, all surrounding the campfire, all motionless. As he passed the ominous faces, he recognized a few of them, and the mounting dread he felt came to a crescendo as his father smiled mirthlessly at him. He gestured to a log, and Kurt took the seat, figuring if he fought now, it would only ensure his own demise.


    ¡°Sitting down for a little father son chat, are we?¡± Kurt asked flippantly.


    Rand''s head tilted, black eyes wide, the smile never left his face. ¡°I think you and I both know that I''m not your father.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I meant religiously, Elder.¡± Kurt stared back at his sire, and though he felt sad for his father''s state, he was glad to see him alive.


    The Elder laughed and so did the rest of the people surrounding them. All in unison, cutting off at the exact same time.


    ¡°You have been speaking to someone, Kurtis of the Hunt, and I know something else.¡± His head rolled around gently, as though swaying with the wind or listening to the sound of soft music. ¡°Who have you been speaking to?¡± He stopped and stared.


    Kurt held the gaze, but Bacchus''s eyes never blinked. ¡°I''ve been speaking to a lot of people lately. Right now, I''m speaking to you. Just last week, I was speaking to your mother.¡± He winked.


    Bacchus''s expression went blank for a moment before a slow smile formed. ¡°My mother has been dead for so long that her bones have turned to dust.¡± His head tilted, stare unwavering.


    Kurt nodded sagely. ¡°Ah. That would explain the silence on her end.¡±


    Bacchus let out a slow chuckle. ¡°And what does that say about you? That you''re a fool playing at wit?¡±


    ¡°No, it says she still had better conversation skills than you.¡±


    Bacchus straightened, then raised Rand''s chin to look down his nose at Kurt. Kurt just grinned stupidly. Your move, asshole.


    "Do you think this is a game, child?" Bacchus''s voice was smooth, but beneath it lurked something jagged. "Do you think I would hesitate to drag you back to my Monastery? To lock you away until you cannot move for hunger? Until your throat cracks with thirst, and your mind frays in the dark?"


    Kurt shrugged. ¡°That depends. Why don¡¯t you prepare my quarters first? I won¡¯t settle for anything less than your finest accommodations. In fact, I¡¯ll have yours.¡±


    Bacchus laughed, and as if commanded by a single will, the others laughed with him. Their voices layered, hollow and wrong. "I dare say, you are an amusing one. The host will enjoy your memories once he sees them."


    Kurt¡¯s lip curled. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re not even the real one? I wasted my quips on a knockoff?¡±


    "Knockoff?" Bacchus tsked, his grin widening, his teeth too white, too perfect. "No, no, no. I am more than your elder. More than you can comprehend. But most of me?" His head tilted, too smoothly. "Yes. Most of me is with the host. We will know in time."


    ¡°So, he doesn¡¯t know yet?¡±


    Bacchus¡¯s expression soured. The air between them thickened.


    "What do you think this is?" His voice dropped, deepened, as though reality itself was straining to bear its weight. "Do you even know who you speak to, worm?"


    Kurt exhaled through his nose. "I know you¡¯re an asshole. And you¡¯re fucking with the wrong family. You want me to talk? Fine. Get out of my father, and maybe we¡¯ll start a conversation. Until then, take your wiggly tentacles and go fuck yourself."


    Bacchus sighed. A slow, deliberate thing. "Fine then. There is always... the other way."


    Faster than thought, waves of black poured from Rand¡¯s body, lashing out and surging toward Kurt. He barely had time to react before it enveloped him.


    It was cold. Not the chill of winter, but something deeper¡ªlike the marrow of his bones had been hollowed out and filled with empty space. It burned at the same time, the way wind could strip flesh raw, peeling his sense of self away layer by layer.


    It climbed him, slithered up his legs, his chest, his face. It pressed into his eyes, his ears, his very breath. Then it struck his mind. It clawed its way inside, slithering through his thoughts, filling every inch of him, drowning his will. He was trapped. He was taken. He was going to lose everything. Even himself.


    He hovered there, in his mind¡¯s eye, or perhaps in the depths of his subconscious. Nothing else touched him, nor did anything else come to the fore. He was nobody, nothing, a temporal moment in the blink of infinity, not even a drop in an endless ocean. He existed in a space beyond, transcending, or perhaps descending, time itself.


    Something nudged him, nagged at him, ate at him. What am I? The thought surfaced unbidden, and he marveled at it. I am? Yes. I am something. I exist.


    A cascading rockslide of sentience crashed down upon him, shaking him loose from the void. A soft whisper, no, not even that, there was no sound here, only the impression of words, the echo of something ancient, yet his own. It told him, Bask in the glory of the first gift, the first curse. You are.


    The revelation came with an irresistible compulsion. To move. To act. He latched onto that desire, his mind reeling, and his universe shifted.


    A vibration ran across his body, a shiver in overarching waves. He had touched something, touched infinity, and it had left him changed. He heard a sound, an animal sound. He felt his throat shaking, the sound he realized was his own voice, his feral growl only slightly drowned by the river of blackness passing through him. He mentally grasped that action like a drowning man clutching for air, and he put all of himself into it. His roar of rebellion may not have shaken the pillars of heaven, but he was certain it shook the thing before him, if not the the hell it came from. For as he felt the blackness leaving his body, he knew that filth such as this could only spawn from the underworld.


    Some of the silhouettes around him had dropped, lying prone on the ground. Rand, however, still sat, unblinking.


    ¡°Now, isn''t that a surprise?¡± He finally shut his eyes, and the bodies gone prone slowly rose. ¡°That was quite the display.¡± He stood, the unbelievable size of the man before him put the fear of the Gods into Kurt. He was used to his father''s scale, massive by all standards, but that form had never once shown sign of hurting Kurt. For the first time in Kurt''s life, he feared his father.


    Bolstering his fortitude, he looked into his father''s face. He coated his vision in Gia, making his eyes glow green, when he saw the dark shadows flowing through his father. ¡°Get out of my father, you disgusting wretch.¡± He whispered the words, doing his best to mask the snarl.  He spoke in a way that would make anyone near listen more intently, the quiet solemnity in the vibrations of his voice offset to the crackle of the fire.


    The entire crowd laughed and laughed, like they had before, but something was different this time. Was that fear? Is it scared of me? This thing?


    ¡°Your father has some very interesting memories... The pride he holds for... hmmm, Dorian is his name? Oh and you''ve been missing, how quaint. How about the shame he felt that you chose the Hunts over the Cooks. Oh yes, yes-.¡±


    Gritting his teeth, Kurt said, ¡°shut your mouth.¡±


    An eyebrow went up, ¡°my mouth?¡±


    The echoing laughter boomed from around him again.


    ¡°Oh, that''s just the start. How about his relationship with your mother, Rita. Yes, yes, did you know your parent''s relationship is based on a lie?¡± Kurt was going to interject, but his father''s voice spoke over him. ¡°That''s right, he''s never told a soul, has he?¡±


    The laughter again, but this time Kurt''s anger was growing like a cascading firestorm. He held his temper, though he was struggling.


    ¡°He threw his match, oh yes, for two reasons. He bet against himself, intending to use the money to raise his family status. The other, for the heart of one of the two sisters, but which one was it? Was it Rita, or her sister, Brenda?¡±


    Up to this point, he hadn''t acknowledged the mounting rage he felt at the sight of his possessed father.  At the very least, he hadn''t focused on it. For all that he was his mother''s son, Kurt loved his father and this creature was bent on slandering him. With Dorian gone, his mother running the entire village, Kurt was alone, homeless. This thing was going to take that from him, it was taking away his family. It''s killing everyone I love, and it''s laughing about it. Fine, I''ll give you something to laugh about.


    He felt it then, the spark that started the lightning strike. Gripped the essence of his soul, the fire itself, not just its light, and he roared with soaring heart.


    ¡°Bacchus! Daemon! You wish to take from me all that I hold dear?!¡± Gia broke every pore of his body, a cloud of white blocking out everything else, not even the campfire could compare to his brilliance.


    Bacchus shot to his feet, his voice a thunderclap. ¡°No! Filthy human, how dare you?!¡± Blackness surged through the light, consuming it, corrupting it.


    ¡°How dare I?!¡± Kurt roared back, pushing against the tide of darkness. ¡°I am the King of the Wilds! This is my home, not yours! How dare you?!¡± His voice cut through the void, unrelenting, undeniable. He knew Bacchus could hear him, knew his words struck deep, despite the deafening roar in his own ears.


    ¡°You come to my land. You steal my family.¡± Fury broke through the suffocating black, a fire blazing in his chest. He pushed. The darkness resisted, clawing at him, but his rage had already taken root. He would not be broken. Not here. Not now. Not by him.


    ¡°You are nothing but a lost boy, you don''t understand your folly! Child! I can show you the path, all is not lost-¡±


    Something gave. A crack in the pressure, a moment of hesitation. Bacchus faltered.


    Kurt surged like a storm. Grinning like a fool, he said, ¡°Hey Bacchus, I¡¯d tell you to eat me, but, well¡­¡±


    The darkness recoiled. It shrank back, slithering toward the bodies it had claimed. Then, one by one, the possessed began to choke. Black bile spewed from their mouths, spilling onto the ground in writhing streams.


    And then, Kurt¡¯s light consumed it.


    It devoured the abyss, pressing into the void, forcing it back. He pulled in slightly, just enough to gather his strength, then pushed again. Harder. This time, the bodies dropped where they stood.


    His light deepened, shifting from pale green to something richer, darker, more alive. Holding on to it, claiming it, he swallowed the cloud of power, of madness, of pure, twisted will.


    And he consumed it all.


    Sinking to a knee, clutching his gut, he groaned, ¡°By the Gods, that is awful.¡±


    It writhed inside him, a sickening churn, like his insides had been dumped into a mixing pot and violently stirred.


    His stomach lurched. He gagged, but there was nothing left to purge. Rolling onto his side, he thought, I¡¯d rather eat a pine cone. Hell, I¡¯d rather pass one.


    The fire flickered, the only light in the encroaching dark. The vertigo hit hard. He knew what he¡¯d done¡ªpushed too far, too fast. But he also knew, with absolute certainty, that whatever price he paid, he¡¯d pay it again. A hundred times over.


    That was his last thought before exhaustion dragged him under, sinking him into the abyss of sleep.


    When he woke, it was pitch black. He wanted to get up, feel around, but every muscle on his body shouted out when he tried. He let out a soft groan, then became alarmed when he heard movement.


    ¡°Who''s there?¡±


    The broken voice that answered sounded like a rockslide, the vocal cords straining to replicate the sound of a human voice. ¡°Hello, little squire. You''ve done well. I had my doubts, but you''ve really done it. You will be needed soon because I have news of your brother. I hope you''re ready, you''ll be fighting in this year''s tournament after all.¡± Despite the rocky voice, he was washed with a sense of comfort. He was ready to begin the next stage of his journey, he was ready to save his family.

 Chapter 33 - A Heart Forged

    My simplest fear is of the future. I will be weakened in my new state, but by the ¡°Gods,¡± I will need to be rid of this body before it withers to dust. The time has come, and I shall celebrate the first true ascension in the finest way possible, in blood.


    I''ve been playing with the thought, and Bacchus himself agrees. I could simply allow slaughter any time, though the politics as they are wouldn''t be worth the headache. Since it won¡¯t matter after the third day, I may as well push for blood in the sands of the arena. As a boy, I fancied such stories, and even if I have enjoyed the sight in the past, it has been a very long time. Yes, let me cheer the dawn of a new world in the way of the ancients. Let me greet this next life with the very first gift Bacchus gave to mankind. Such is only proper. Let us enjoy this thing that violates all of nature, let us spectate and wonder at the perversion to life. In the Colosseum, let the rabble enjoy the sight of their destination before it all goes to hell.


    Mortality is such a fickle thing.


    Helping Clarice was a sudden joy to Dorian. He ate early and was comforted by her company. As he finished the dishes, she took the liberty of looking over his wound. It had been healed completely, and even if he missed some time, it wasn''t so bad as it could have been.


    He wasn''t ready to see the other trainees, and he wasn''t really ready to see the person that had dug her way in to his mind. Firstly, he felt like an idiot for getting hurt so early in the training and was sure that he''d have even more work to do before it was done. Secondly, he hadn''t met with any tutors yet, though he was sure he''d have plenty of work to catch up on. Finally, upon hearing that Brother Michael hadn''t returned yet, guilt blossomed in Dorian''s core as he was sure it was his own fault.


    With a full belly, Dorian left to his chambers. As he descended the stairs, he nearly bowled Sister Brenda over as he took a turn along the inside railing of the staircase. Instead of running her over, he sidestepped but landed poorly, stumbling down half a flight of stairs before settling.


    ¡°Master Dorian, what in the name of Kressor do you think you''re doing. He may favor the gamble, but sprinting down the stairs isn''t something worth gambling over. Let¡¯s see you, then.¡± She came over, helping him to his feet.


    ¡°Morning Sister, I apologize for my haste. I wanted to get back to my rooms before the others woke.¡±


    She pursed her lips for a moment as she inspected him, then grabbed the nape of his neck to inspect the damage. ¡°The scars on your shoulder look worse than this one does now. It was a near thing, you know. Brother Michael was worried sick, said he pushed you too hard too soon.¡±


    Dorian shook his head, ¡°not so.¡± His breath caught for a moment, then he said, ¡°I mean to say, I was fine up to the point in which the bar broke.¡±


    She looked him in the eye, seeming contemplative. ¡°Come, lets head to your chambers. We have some studying to do before training begins.¡±


    As they headed that way, she popped her head into a doorway, a startled shriek echoing from behind the door. ¡°Calm yourself girl, I need you to bring breakfast for three to Dorian''s chamber.¡± There was a muffled reply, acquiescence in the girls tone.


    Resuming their walk, Sister Brenda informed him of the plan and updated him on a few other details. Brother Michael would be back after serving a short time in penance. Dorian''s total recuperation had apparently taken a sight bit less than he had thought, wherever he had gone had given him plenty of rest but had aged him. Regular healing had been administered, and according to Sister Brenda, he was lucky to wake at all. When Dorian protested that Master Flint had said it would only be a few months, she had dutifully informed him that Master Flint was a ¡°heartless bag of spiteful scat¡± and had apparently always hated Brother Michael. This surprised Dorian, as he didn''t think that Master Flint had enough inner fire for such an emotion. When Dorian expressed this to his teacher, she had laughed so loudly that she had to cup a hand over her mouth, the unladylike snorts that followed only emphasizing the outburst ever more.


    Finally, as only a few days had passed in the training grounds, he would have the opportunity to stay a bit longer and train with the next cycle. It would be good for him, mostly to catch up with the others in his group, but also because their fighting styles would be a little different than his own.


    He wondered aloud why he hadn''t ever met or even heard of the other classes, to which Sister Brenda expressed that each of the age groups were kept to their own sections for good cause. What was that cause? ¡°Nothing that need concern you.¡± Where were the other two? ¡°In another part of the Monastery.¡± How many people were in the Monastery? ¡°A whole lot.¡±


    Finally, and to his surprise, Sister Brenda expressed the plan for the following weeks. He would get additional tutoring from her personally, this wasn¡¯t an exception as Brenda was his personal tutor. What surprised Dorian was that Sister Brenda would be instructing the staff as well. As they sat, the Sister seemed to recall something.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re awake, you need to write your name on this.¡±


    Sister Brenda reached into her robes, pulling out one of several slips of paper and handing it over. Dorian glanced around for a quill. Spotting one alongside a pot of ink, he brought them to the small desk he assumed was meant for private study.


    It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, dark wood, polished smooth, with shelving built into its ¡°L¡± shape, tucked neatly into the corner of his spacious room. The numerous drawers made finding anything a chore, but eventually, he located some parchment as well, knowing she''d likely demand he take notes soon enough.


    Dipping the quill into ink, he pressed the tip to the slip of paper. The moment it touched, the paper shifted, from bleach white to light gray, then to an even deeper Shade.


    By the time he found the drying sand, sprinkled it over the ink, dusted it off, and handed the slip to Sister Brenda, the paper had gone completely black.


    She stared at it, her brows slowly knitting together.


    ¡°Dorian¡­ are you channeling your Shade?¡±


    He shook his head.


    ¡°Try again. And this time, make sure you¡¯re not touching your Gia either.¡±


    Dorian blinked. He hadn''t realized he was. He had been running Gia through his eyes all morning, so naturally that even he hadn''t noticed.


    Nodding to Sister Brenda, he took another slip.


    Much like before, the paper began to shift. The pale surface darkened, graying until it turned completely black. He hadn''t even gotten as far as writing his name before the ink was unnecessary.


    Sister Brenda frowned down at the slip, then at him.


    ¡°I''m not amused.¡±


    ¡°I swear, I''m not summoning anything, I''m not even touching my Primes.¡±


    She looked thoughtful for a moment.


    Dorian, twiddling his thumbs a bit, said, ¡°what''s it for anyways?¡±


    Looking pensive she replied, ¡°it''s for the raffle. The chosen to take the place of the next elder. Everyone must, even those that come to the Grand Tournament. I guess it''ll have to do.¡± She kept the blank one but tossed the one that had his name on it. Dorian was going to point this out, but she began the lecture so quickly that he had to drop everything to take notes. Then, the tedium began.


    A few hours passed, and they only took a break for breakfast. Since Dorian had already eaten, and didn''t want to lose it all when it came time to start running, he simply kept to his notes. Sister Brenda, for her part, provided a book from her pocket, expressing which diagrams to copy out as she ate. The proficient woman ate standing, pointing out parts of the copy he was making and how he should emphasize this or that in relation to his Prime in Cultivation. Technically, what he was copying was the ¡°Growth Rate Exponential relative to Investiture.¡± The chart was fascinating, and being the excellent teacher that she was, she had shown her theorized cause for his blockage. As more was invested, the rate of ¡°Culted¡± growth was increased. Dorian''s problem was that he couldn''t get past a certain threshold of investiture, which explained why she had been trying to accelerate the growth of his Gia potential. It made sense, he supposed, though why she hadn''t simply explained this sooner was beyond him.


    Finally, hand cramping, she waved to him to stop taking notes. Though he didn''t like the idea of running shortly, he was happy to give his mind a rest and simply let his body do its thing. Exercise was natural, and though he could be lazy about it from time to time, once he got going it was the easiest thing in the world. He liked to think of himself like a rock rolling downhill. Once it was moving, gravity did the rest, and there really wasn''t any stopping it.


    She instructed him to get ready, mentioning that she¡¯d be doing the same, and to meet her in the sparring chamber for stretches in half an hour.


    Now that light from the hall seeped under his door, he had a better sense of the time. Even so, he searched the room for an hourglass, just to be sure. Time was a tricky thing when you lived inside a mountain of stone.


    Down to shorts and his undershirt, he headed out a little early. He figured a bit of extra stretching wouldn''t do him any harm. Besides, he didn''t really know Alex or Gavin all that well, but figured it was in his best interest to make friends. He''d be spending a lot of time with them for the next few years, or months, or whatever it was. Thinking about time bubbles made his head spin, so he let it go and led with the best intentions.


    Upon reaching the room, he found he was alone. He came to the center of the padded area, looking up at the air ducts, he was grateful for the fact that the room didn''t stink like the hall did. As he was stretching the other two showed, surprise written clearly on their faces.


    ¡°Didn''t think we''d see you again.¡± Alexandria said.


    Gavin nodded, ¡°didn''t even know if you''d survive. I''ve never seen so much blood.¡± He paled a little as he recalled the memory.


    ¡°I''ve never seen Brother Michael look so concerned. I wish you were awake to see it, he shook getting you on to his shoulder.¡± Laughed Alexandria. ¡°But he managed it. I''d have just dragged you.¡± She said this with a shrug, and Dorian did all he could not to glare at her for it.


    ¡°Yeah, you should have seen it, Brother Michael picking you up and hauling you like a sack of potatoes. It would have been funny if he didn''t look so wretched about it.¡± Gavin looked at Alex for a moment then they both burst out laughing.


    Dorian, instead of running his mouth, smirked slightly and nodded his head. He continued his stretching, making sure he took extra time for his calves. There is something very awful about having to run, but having to run once you''ve pulled a calf muscle was sheer agony. When he raised his head again the other two were looking at him.


    Dorian lowered his brow and said, ¡°I don''t know the routine here, I didn''t make it through the first day.¡± He looked at them flatly, not giving rise to their chiding. So, what if Brother Michael cared? Gods forbid anyone show him anything resembling that.


    They seemed uneasy as they hadn''t gotten the response they expected.


    ¡°First, we take to the circuit. One at a time though since we won¡¯t have an instructor until after we get through the obstacle course. We do the weight training later now.¡± Gavin said as he did some stretches. Dorian nodded but kept his peace as he twisted back and forth warming up his lower back. Finally, after an awkward silence, Alex gestured to a tall hourglass on the wall that had etchings in it for each of the hours. Why the other chambers didn''t have one, he didn''t know, but it was nice to know what time it was for a change.


    Coming to the beginning of the circuit, Alex explained. ¡°You went through this once, but with Brother Michael. I don''t know why, but Gavin seems to get out first every time. I think he knows a shortcut, but he won¡¯t tell me where to find it.¡±


    Gavin snorted, ¡°just because you can''t keep up doesn''t mean you have to make excuses.¡±


    ¡°Whatever.¡± She replied and dashed down the hall, lights flashing on and winking out as she disappeared around the slightly curved hall.


    ¡°Honestly, I don''t even try to beat her out. For the last two days though, I make it out first and I never once pass her. Not really sure how that works, but I''ll be laughing at the end of the run. Good luck in there, try not to stop. Who knows what''s creeping in the dark down there.¡± He smiled, like an asshole, and left loping easily down the hall.


    Looking around, seeing that no one was there, he used his Gia sight to peer down the hall. There were runes everywhere, and as he took to a soft jog, he spotted something odd. The runes weren''t just everywhere, they were shifting. As he came through a section, he spotted multiple hallways. Just as he had spotted them, something shut his sight off completely. It was such a jarring feeling that he stopped abruptly. Walking backwards, he felt a definitive shift. He accessed his Gia again, looking around. The shadows in this place were odd, sometimes in places for no good reason. This he chalked up to the Shade that was apparent in the runes, the technum present could appear that way. As he looked behind himself, he spotted a large gathering of shadow. As he peered at it, it shifted. Only as it moved did he realize it resembled the shape of a man, the shift was the tilt of a head.


    Dorian ran. Ran like he never ran before. The fear enveloping his insides gave him energy he didn''t know he had. Even if he couldn''t summon his Gia any longer, he didn''t care. He didn''t want to see what that was.


    For a long time, the rhythm of his breath, the plodding echo of his gate, and the sweat rolling down his face was the only thing that punctuated the passage of time. When the exit finally grew near, he sprinted so hard that he almost knocked his fellow combatants over as he came barreling out of the hall.


    ¡°Kressor''s own, man. Watch where you''re going!¡±


    Dorian was trying to catch his breath as the other two mocked him for how long it took him to finish. He was embarrassed and breathing heavily. Looking around, there was kind of platform with a pump. He grabbed a bucked that sat to the side of it, filled it, and drank as much as he could before he had to take a breath.


    ¡°Did you two see it?¡±


    ¡°See you having a heart attack? Yes, you''re hard to miss.¡± Alexandria said, snickering as she put her arms out like she was holding up a huge belly.


    Still panting, nostrils flared and brow bent, he stared at her. He was sick of people treating him like this.


    Smirking but holding her glare, Dorian said, ¡°aren''t you original.¡± He turned, stalking off to the obstacle course. If what he saw in there was real, he''d keep it to himself. If Kressor himself was haunting those halls, he wouldn''t be surprised. If the other two didn''t want to treat him with any decency, then they could rot for all he cared. He didn''t know what it was, but something about the circuit was deeply unnerving.


    Pissed off, he came to the obstacle course. The first bar was gone, replaced with a much thicker steel rather than what had been there before. As he came up to the jump, he noted a stain on the stone floor. He inspected it, finding bits of rust surrounding the area. From the bar snapping?


    Figuring the other two were still having a laugh, Dorian wasn''t going to wait. Bad enough he was behind, even more so that he wasn''t going to do well on this as it required a certain level of acrobatics that he simply never had nor cultivated. Rather than giving the others something to laugh at, he started.


    Leaping out, he swung successfully, rounding forward to the sets of bars that inclined up and down. Doing as he had seen done, only taking a moment to get the hang of the motion, he surged up and down, coming to a wall with a rope. He climbed, finding little spots here and there to put his feet. At the top he could see the rest of the course. He had work to do.


    Some time later, after vaulting walls, swinging along between structures and falling on his ass half a dozen times, he was passed by the other two. Sometime after that, he finished the course, the last thing a flat slate wall with protruding bits to grab on to. He failed six times before he finally figured out where to place his feet to get to the top. The experience was exhausting, but at the same time he felt a certain smug pride. He wasn''t a runner, wasn''t any good at acrobatics either, but despite this he had finished. The Gods didn''t give him that, it was something he had to take for himself, and he had.


    The other two contenders were waiting for him. The course had circled back around, ending by a locker. Some fifty yards from there was the sparring room from before. Even from this distance he could see some figures there, though he couldn''t make out any details.


    ¡°Come on all ready. They''re waiting for us.¡± Alex called.


    Dorian''s blood was up. He still felt a small bit of accomplishment, but it dwindled quickly as he saw the other two waiting for him. Bad enough that it was so hard for him, but when the other two made it look so easy it made his small accomplishment feel like it was worse than nothing. Following that, their impatience towards him was something that set his blood to boiling. He didn''t speak, just headed towards them.


    ¡°How''d you even make it this far, anyways? I didn''t care to watch most of your matches.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know that one. Not only did he get lucky against Ingrid, but he poisoned Danny beforehand. He told me all about it.¡± Gavin said.


    This was something that set Dorian back on his heels. He had poisoned Danny? What the hell was this derelict talking about?


    Nodding, Alex said, ¡°makes sense. Cheaters never prosper, the Gods may gamble but they don''t look favorably to those who stack the deck.¡±


    Taking up his staff, the one that Brother Michael had fixed up for him, he grimly asked, ¡°is Danny up and walking yet?¡±


    Gavin actually glared at him. ¡°Not that it''s any of your business, but no, he''s not. Maybe if you hadn''t sat on him, he''d be here instead of you.¡±


    Alex laughed loudly at this, Dorian''s face growing hot. Dorian stalked away, doing all he could to ignore the two. It was good fuel, and he knew he''d need it.


    As he stalked through the doors, all fury in his mind stopped, and his heart nearly leaped from his chest. Ingrid stood there, staff in hand, smiling as though there was a joke he simply didn''t understand.


    Dorian''s tongue seized, and he was sure his eyes must be as wide as dinner plates for all the shock he felt.


    Shaking her head, Ingrid said, ¡°don''t be so surprised. We did have a pretty good match.¡±


    Dorian felt like he was out of his own body at this point. Numbly, he said, ¡°uh, yeah we did.¡± He swallowed as he looked around.


    Gavin came through the door behind him, talking loudly. The interruption seemed to pull Dorian out of the surprise, enough to make words work as they were intended. ¡°What are-¡±


    ¡°The match we had.¡± She nodded, then shrugged, the braid on her shoulder falling behind her as she did so. ¡°Sparring partners were picked relative to each. I''m your primary partner, and if you get hurt, your first replacement. We''ll swap around, but I''m here with you.¡±


    Brain dead, he muttered, ¡°Oh,¡± then glanced around.


    Atticus Weaver was there, along with another competitor he recognized but couldn¡¯t name. She was a decent fighter, above average even, but petty as all hell. In fact, he was certain she¡¯d been one of the ones who had scoffed at him at the start of this whole ordeal. His memory sharpened, and suddenly he recalled all the shit Ingrid had thrown his way. She hadn¡¯t even known him back then, and if not for the experience of their match, the grudging respect they¡¯d forged in the ring, he¡¯d probably still see her the same way.


    He realized now that, in his private thoughts, he¡¯d allowed himself to imagine Ingrid as someone she wasn¡¯t. He¡¯d mythologized her, let himself see her as something untouchable. But the truth was simpler, she cared too much about what others thought. She was popular, yes, but she wasn¡¯t above petty insults and mind games. She wasn¡¯t just the smoldering, fiery soul who moved with the force of a thunderclap and struck with the grace of a raindrop. She was also the petulant asshole who had mocked his virility just to get in his head.


    And, like so many others, she¡¯d courted Danny¡¯s favor. Probably used him as another rung in her climb up the social ladder.


    The smoldering anger that he had before he walked in to the sparring chamber was back in full now. As his visage came back to Ingrid, her smile dissipated quickly.


    ¡°Attention, please, gather round. Today is our fourth lesson, we''ll be taking to an aggressive stance, staff held just so.¡± Sister Brenda squatted down, placing the staff against her neck, using it as a lever and pressing it, she whipped out a series of high wide swings, following with jabs that varied high and low. ¡°The benefits to such a stance are quick recoil times and freeing up a hand. If you find yourself too close, you can use your secondary to throw your opponent or push them off balance.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Dorian watched, wrangling his anger down enough to learn from the lesson was a struggle, but he managed. As he watched Sister Brenda move effortlessly through the forms, he wasn''t as surprised as he thought he''d be. Something about her had an edge, and the fact that she could fight like this fit her like a glove. After she finished, she said, ¡°pair off. Each of you move slowly, remember it isn''t about the speed, it''s about understanding. The faster you move, the easier it is to cheat yourself. If you can execute this perfectly at a slower rate, when you bring it to full speed, it will be twice as effective. I''ll come around shortly.¡±


    Each paired off, Ingrid leading the way over to the side of the room furthest from the doors. Dorian watched Atticus and Gavin, one playing dumb and moving slowly as the other made their way through the movements. When his eyes came back to Ingrid she asked, ¡°do you want to go first?¡±


    Her tone was odd in his ears, she sounded unsure. This wasn''t like her, well, as far as he knew, and it calmed him a bit. He shook his head. ¡°I''m good at playing dumb. You go first.¡±


    She nodded once and took her stance. Dorian squared himself, taking a defensive posture. She moved slowly, levering her staff against her neck she struck out but not quickly. Dorian parried, and she used the rebound to set it spinning back at herself, switching hands as she did.


    Dorian did the same in turn, mimicking the movements as they went. The flow of it felt so natural to him, like he''d done this all before. Before he knew it, they were practicing back and forth, slowly gaining momentum. Time passed, and the tension he felt started to disappear. Calmed by the movements, his mind clearing of all the chaos that usually dwell there.


    Out of nowhere, Sister Brenda asked, ¡°what do you think the disadvantages to this are? Dorian? Ingrid?¡±


    Ingrid looked to Dorian, uncertainty on her face. Dorian turned to Sister Brenda and said, ¡°lack of stability. Great to throw someone off balance or if you get through, trip them or hit them in the head, but there''s no meat behind the blow. A solid block deflects most of the benefits to the attack.¡±


    Looking a little surprised, Sister Brenda said, ¡°yes. Exactly that. Well done, please continue.¡± After a while, Sister Brenda came back, adjusting their feet and stances. In turn she called them back, showing them a few other things they could do from the stance and how to transition in and out of it. For whatever reason, it all made perfect sense to Dorian. The transitions, the angles, what''s worth the effort and what isn''t. Where and when he should shove his opponent back with his free hand or grab them, where to place the staff to trip an opponent or leave them stumbling. Finally, sparring started in earnest.


    For three minutes, Ingrid and he would bout in a race to score points. Then, each of the partners would move down a line as the three primary combatants stayed in place. They would repeat this for the following six rounds with little more than thirty second rest. At this point, padded leather helmets were passed out. Dorian struggled with the clasps, leaving Ingrid smirking before she asked him to lean down so she could help. He heard one of the others snicker something but with Ingrid''s face so close to his own, he was scared to even breath wrong. Her hands weren''t dainty things, they were strong as they secured the helm to his head.


    When they started, Ingrid was a whirlwind. Her braid shadowed her, her movement firm yet graceful. Dorian wasn''t fully in the fight yet when she took him once in the shoulder and another in the shin. The pain that lanced through him was muffled by the smirk on her face. Dorian rose to meet her, and in a furious exchange landed three to her two before the three minutes were up. Their eyes locked, normally Dorian would find an excuse to glance away, timid as he was. This time, however, he held it with a stone certainty that there was a fire between them, a certain something that couldn''t be said, only experienced. When she left to face against Alex, Dorian couldn''t be certain, but he thought she was blushing.


    Next, he faced Atticus, and if Dorian was being completely honest, the man''s skills were a bit of a joke. He almost laughed when Atticus tripped over his own feet but instead held his staff up in a defensive posture. Dorian could be cutthroat as the next, but he felt a bit of mutual respect was more appropriate. Atticus, for his part, never scored a touch on Dorian, and even if Dorian knew he could have thrashed the poor guy, he held back enough to salve some of the guy''s pride. Still, when the three minutes were up, Dorian was helping Atticus to his feet, having scored at least seven points against him. Maybe more, but at a certain point, keeping track was meaningless.


    Next came the tawdry princess, whatever her name was, her garb was of some fine material that had been died a bright yellow with deep purple accents. The whole thing shouted ¡°look at me!¡± For all that, she wasn''t half bad, but didn''t hold a candle to Ingrid. She tried, making loud noises as she struck out, but for all her loud look and behavior, she left nursing a fresh bruise on her upper thigh. Dorian defended all but one strike, meanwhile scoring at least six points. He smiled the whole time, as he thoroughly enjoyed the competition, but she only scowled at him for the exchange.


    Ingrid returned, looking a little more worn. Dorian wasn¡¯t sure he looked as tired as she did, full-contact sparring was exhausting. Still, they fell into rhythm effortlessly, moving as if they¡¯d trained together for years.


    As always, Dorian was in awe of how she closed the distance. She surged forward like she had wings, then darted back so fast that his staff met nothing but air. She had an impressive lead before he finally started his comeback, but time ran out before he could fully catch up. By his count, she won the round five touches to three.


    Breathless but grinning, they laughed over the exchange. As she turned to leave, Dorian extended his staff, and she tapped it once, acknowledging him with a simple, unspoken gesture of respect, before sprinting off to her next match.


    By this point, Dorian felt like he was glowing. The quarterstaff in his hand was light, as was his heart. His match against Atticus wasn¡¯t much of a challenge, so he took the opportunity to weave in the day¡¯s lesson, testing its effectiveness in real combat. To his surprise, it worked seamlessly. Even though Atticus had just been taught how to counter it, Dorian still wiped the floor with him.


    Tabitha fared no better. At least, he assumed that was her full name, he had overheard Gavin calling her "Tabby."


    She didn''t score any points against him in that round, she seemed exhausted. Dorian was feeling it too, but not near so much as her. Between that and his attempts at the newer fighting stance, he only scored three points against her, though if he were being honest with himself, he could have brutalized the young woman. He was pretty sure that it was his own guilt acting up for having bruised her upper leg in their last match, he was there to learn not harm.


    Finally, to finish their training session, they played ¡°Ruler of the Ring.¡± It was a simple game, one of many they would play over the following months which effectively relied heavily on a simple concept. The one that won the exchanges stayed in the middle, each exchange was to three taps. The best got the most practice, if you wanted more you had to earn it.


    Since Dorian had been out for a while, he was the last to compete. Ingrid, as the reigning winner, went first. She was relentless. Tabby and Atticus fell like wheat before the sickle, cut down with precision and ease. Alex put up more of a fight, nearly taking the match, but Ingrid edged him out with a narrow three-to-two victory.


    By the time Gavin stepped into the ring, sweat gleamed on Ingrid¡¯s brow, her chest rising and falling like a bellows. Any fool could see where this was going. And yet, exhausted as she was, she almost beat him. If not for a single misstep in a twist, she would have put him down like the rest. It seemed the queen of the ring had been dethroned. Gavin, standing victorious, looked all too smug about it.


    All the while this had gone on, the others shouted whatever they liked. It made sense, in a way. In the Colosseum there would be plenty of distracting people. It was only logical that they trained for that as well.


    ¡°Come get your lumps, tubby.¡± Gavin said, and a few others laughed. ¡°Maybe this time you''ll be gone for two weeks, if your frail-¡± Gavin cut off as Dorian moved with a speed that belied his bulk. Using the new stance, not because it was advantageous but because he knew it would be mocking, he came in strong. It put Gavin on the defense, but more importantly, it got the guy to finally shut the hell up. He grinned at Gavin, which only seemed to infuriate the young man further.


    He bellowed as he countered, lashing out three times, Dorian dodged the first two, but the third was swung wide directly towards his chest. With nowhere to dodge and his staff resting against his neck, he instinctively caught the swing with his open left hand. Dorian was just as shocked as Gavin was, but he didn''t let it show. He gripped it tightly as Gavin pulled. Planting his feet, he pulled harder, until Gavin was leaning back entirely too far. Dorian let go, and watched as his opponent fell flat on his back. Dorian laughed, and so did a few others, though they stifled it quickly as Gavin glared daggers at them.


    ¡°You must be Danny''s friend.¡± Dorian mumbled as he shook his head.


    ¡°What was that? What did you say, you stupid fat fuck?¡± Gavin shouted as he scrambled to his feet. His face was flushed, not used to someone like Dorian talking back to him.


    Just like that, the fury was back on Dorian. It boiled in him, leaving him shaking to contain it.


    ¡°Well? You gonna do something or just stand there? Come on!¡± Gavin taunted.


    Dorian walked calmly, circling around the other fighter. ¡°You know why Danny lies to you?¡± Dorian feigned a step in, and Gavin about jumped out of his skin to block. Dorian began circling the other way, laughing as he watched Gavin twitch. Dorian lashed out in an obvious way, giving his opponent a false sense of security. His swings were half-hearted, letting them tap and darting back as Dorian weaved in and out.


    ¡°Good.¡± Dorian said, trying to calm the situation.


    ¡°What are you doing? Belly in the way of your brain?¡±


    Dorian tilted his head, slowly. You give them the opportunity for kindness and camaraderie, they answer with bile.


    ¡°Fine then.¡± Dorian said, turning icy.


    With cold calculation, Dorian swung with real force for the first time that day. It was an obvious strike, one that gave Gavin plenty of time to block, but Gavin hadn''t calculated how much force Dorian could put behind a blow like that. When Dorian''s strike hit, he rebounded, quick as a cat he struck again. Suddenly, the look on Gavin''s face wasn''t so mocking. Surprise at first, for the strength behind the first blow, shock that a second blow could come again so quickly, dread with the third as understanding washed over him. Every strike Dorian threw left the smaller man reeling. Dorian grunted, exerting himself in earnest. Gavin could barely keep his feet. That''s when Dorian stopped flailing like an ogre and began incorporating technique alongside his powerful strikes. The results weren''t surprising.


    From the moment Dorian stopped relying on brute force alone and began seamlessly merging strength with technique, Gavin lasted, at best, five seconds.


    The first strike didn¡¯t rebound much, but the sheer impact sent vibrations rattling through Gavin¡¯s bones. Even so, he held his ground, only for Dorian to circle back and drive a thrust so hard that, despite Gavin managing a parry, he still took a direct jab to the sternum.


    When Dorian swept low, Gavin¡¯s athleticism let him leap over it, but Dorian wasn¡¯t some Gods-damned novice. He adjusted the strike mid-motion, catching Gavin¡¯s ankle hard enough to send him sprawling. Worse, the force of the fall pitched Gavin forward, his face slamming into the floor. The crowd sucked in a collective breath.


    Dorian turned, stance still sharp, heat still coursing through him. A slow smile curled his lips. ¡°Next.¡±


    His match with Ingrid was good, fast, controlled, precise, but Dorian was only getting started. He met her skill with raw power, knocking her small frame off balance and claiming his three points quickly. There was no sense in holding back for the sake of appearances.


    Alex put up a fight, but between Dorian¡¯s speed, overwhelming strength, and sharpened technique, she didn¡¯t stand a chance.


    With each exchange, Dorian refined his approach, realizing he had never truly leaned into his natural power. By adjusting his grip, he struck in rapid succession, each blow so heavy that even opponents with solid stances couldn¡¯t hold against it.


    The next hour left him grinning from ear to ear. From that day forward, the whispers and snickering from the other contestants disappeared.


    This became his routine. For the next month and beyond, he stuck to the same rotation. Every two weeks, Ingrid would leave, replaced by someone only half as skilled. It didn¡¯t matter. What mattered was his growing mastery of the battle staff.


    In the interim, after Sister Brenda had caught him up on his studies, Ingrid took over, instructing him in both of his Primes. It wasn¡¯t until later that Dorian realized the truth, she wielded an astonishing seven Primes. She was nearly a full-fledged Priorius, though, for reasons unknown, it was a closely guarded secret.


    After he recovered from the shock, he was amused to find out her twin only had one Prime, and that was in the one Prime she didn¡¯t possess. Perhaps his earlier theory about her snatching all the skills from him was correct after all. Still, Dorian was too afraid at first to act jovially towards her, their earlier exchanges leaving him incapable of trusting her out right.


    One day, a few days before leaving, she looked up to him. Locking eyes, Dorian heard her voice in his head though he didn''t see her lips move.


    "I''m sorry. You''re right. I did violate your privacy."


    The admission stunned him. Dorian was absolute shit at understanding women, but even he knew there were lines you didn¡¯t cross. Digging through someone''s private thoughts wasn¡¯t just wrong, it was vile. The thought of his innermost self laid bare without his consent left him feeling exposed, tainted. Of all people, Ingrid? Why are the Gods so cruel.


    And yet, when they sparred, he didn¡¯t need telepathy to understand her. In motion, there was a rhythm between them, a kind of unspoken harmony. Despite everything, he found himself thinking about her more and more. Maybe she wasn¡¯t as petty as he had believed. Maybe she wasn¡¯t as fickle either.


    ¡°I accept your apology.¡± He said, mostly because he couldn''t think at that moment. She stood too close, her eyes were too blue, and the twist of her smile too perfect.


    When she asked him to give back the page, he simply replied that he had already paid for it, that it belonged to him now, though they both knew what he meant. That he didn''t mind her knowing his thoughts, at least for the time being.


    The next time he saw her was roughly three weeks later. It was the first week he had outside of the training area. He spent as much time as he could with his friends and attending his classes. Still, the endlessness of the library stole his interest for at least one of the nights. He had found that he could get past most the wards now, could circumvent the age range. Or perhaps, he couldn''t, and he had actually seen more than seventeen years at that point. He wasn''t sure, but nothing could have surprised him more than Ingrid interrupting his reading as she waved away her friends. They looked at him disdainfully, but one or two of them actually sized him up a bit, like his existence wasn''t a real thing until one of them had acknowledged him.


    ¡°What''cha reading?¡±


    Dorian gave a soft smirk, as he was tired and frustrated. ¡°I''m looking up two things, actually. I''m trying to find a history on Kraken, though it''s taboo enough as is. I''m also looking up blockage, looking for anything resembling my issues.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Would you like a hand?¡±


    ¡°God''s yes, but don''t bother yourself. It''s a fruitless thing really. I just like to give myself an excuse to get lost in here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± She said, looking around the vast reading chamber and the lower floors heading down to the entrance. ¡°It is a fun place to get lost in. Want to see somewhere neat?¡±


    Dorian tried to muffle his excitement, but realized it was pointless as she likely already knew. ¡°Would I?¡±


    They managed to get lost, as he called it, in the library. At first, it was happenstance¡ªor so she claimed. They would stumble into the same section, drifting through aisles of ancient texts, brushing past one another in the tight spaces between shelves. The air between them crackled with the same energy as their sparring, a dance of movement and meaning, subtle and sharp.


    She toyed with him, experimenting with her Technum. A gentle prod, a whispered phrase that left him either reeling with confusion or swelling with pride. She would tap into his thoughts at odd moments, teasing out his reactions with a knowing smirk. And he, in turn, showed her how to wield her Shade, guiding her hands, offering corrections with his own. She wasn''t a quick study, even with their telepathic link, but she was determined. It was another dance, another game, and though she claimed to be the better fighter, here, she let him lead.


    Still, when the lessons ended, she never truly left. She would linger in his orbit, claiming she had lost her way, and that they¡¯d have to try again later. It was always said in jest, with a tilt of her head and a glance that lingered just a little too long. To his surprise, she did find him again. And again. Almost every time he came to the library, she appeared not long after, as if drawn by some unseen thread.


    ¡°Want to see something neat?¡± she would ask, her lips curled in that half-smile of hers.


    ¡°If we can find it,¡± he¡¯d reply, grinning in return.


    And so, they would get lost together.


    Sometimes, they stumbled upon forgotten sculptures, their marbled forms worn by time but no less beautiful. Other times, they uncovered books older than dirt, filled with stories long buried beneath dust and disuse. Once, they found what must have been a luxurious chamber in some ancient era, though the centuries had not been kind. The silk curtains had long since rotted, the gilded furniture dulled and broken, but the remnants of grandeur still clung to the space. She ran her fingers over the cracked wood of an ornate vanity, while he traced the outline of a long-shattered mirror. In that moment, he wondered if she saw the same thing he did, something lost, yet waiting to be rediscovered.


    The more they wandered, the more he understood. She wasn¡¯t truly lost. Perhaps, she was looking for him.


    As they continued deeper in to the maze of the library, he realized that he had no idea what time it was.


    ¡°Don''t you think we should be getting back?¡± Dorian asked.


    ¡°Don''t you think you have obligations to attend?¡±


    Tilting his head and feeling confused, he asked, ¡°what obligation would that be.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know, super elite club, only the brave get to stay, et cetera.¡±


    Realization dawned on him, but before he could voice anything she gestured to a far wall. Grinning, she asked, ¡°do you want to go for a swim?¡± The stone melted away, leading to a long hall that ended at another stone wall. As they came closer, Dorian lighting the hall with his Gia, she waved a hand, and the stone melted behind them.


    ¡°This isn''t a creepy form of seduction, is it? Because judging from how you get to know a fellow, I wouldn''t be surprised.¡± Dorian commented.


    Her face twisted in mock offense. ¡°What-ever,¡± she said laughing, ¡°just shut up, would you.¡± Dorian Grinned as he caught up to her. She turned to him, the look in her eye something he''d never experienced in his young adult life. He had no idea what it was, but it called him. A resonance that harmonized with his own. As he came close, the wall parted, and the sound of music filled his ears. He smirked as he heard her voice echoing through his head. ¡°Not so easy as that.¡± He didn''t understand how, but he knew she was laughing behind the words.


    He entered the room to find Malik, Vinny, and several others. To his surprise, Jack was there, and the two bantered about the eve, having fun, drinking to their hearts content, and above all, living to the fullest while they could.


    As his week came to a close, he spent his last night staying up entirely too late, playing cards with his friends and laughing easily. It was good to see Benny and Ken. Ken was quieter than usual, but Dorian didn¡¯t think much of it, Ken could be that way from time to time. Benny, on the other hand, had begun to fill out, his once-lanky frame finally gaining enough muscle to make him look like more than just skin and bones. Along with this change came a profound revelation for Benny: women existed, and apparently, they were all he wanted to talk about.


    Dorian didn¡¯t mind, and he understood why Benny was so animated, but women, in his experience, were also a bit of a terror. Not in a bad way, quite the opposite. The problem was that Benny saw women the way one might see a sculpture, something to be admired, cared for, and appreciated, but ultimately a thing to have and protect. Dorian didn¡¯t like that, for several reasons.


    Firstly, he had been preyed upon, not in the way a man preys upon a woman, but his emotions and private thoughts had been laid bare, plundered without his consent. The experience had left him wary, unnerved at how easily something so personal could be taken from him. The way Benny spoke, it was clear he would have no issue with such behavior, whether being controlled himself or holding that control over someone else. Though Dorian had come to terms with his own situation, the fact that he had been unaware for so long still sat wrong with him.


    The second reason, perhaps the more important one, was that women were nothing like statues.


    They were like storms, wild, untamed, impossible to contain. You could admire them from a distance, marvel at their beauty, but above all, you had to respect them. A storm could sweep you off your feet, send you tumbling head over heels across the ranges, or leave you thunderstruck, knocked clear out of your shoes, wondering what in the world had just happened. They rolled in without warning, sometimes vanishing just as quickly, or lingering long enough to stir up whirlwinds that never quite settled.


    Unlike statues, they were never still, never unchanging. And if Dorian was being honest, that terrified him. Not in the way one feared a blade at their throat, but in the way a man feared standing too close to the edge of a great precipice, staring into something vast and unknown. It was a fear edged with wonder, something that both unsettled him and made his heart race with the thrill of it.


    Stagnancy was death, and if he ever met a woman who was unmoving, predictable, fixed like some polished stone, he doubted he¡¯d have any interest.


    There was already a storm in his head, one that left him restless, chasing after something he wasn¡¯t sure he fully understood. And he was starting to realize that this particular storm had a bouncing braid, big blue eyes, and the worst laugh he¡¯d ever heard.


    He only had these thoughts because he thought he had left the little slip of paper in his rooms. He would never wax poetic like that outside of his head, nor would he ever have the testicular fortitude to say such things to a woman directly.


    A shock ran through him when he heard Ingrid in his mind. Those words weren''t things to repeat, but he should point out that as they were sent, his friends had to ask him what was wrong. He''d gone pale, then beat red, to a point that they were honestly concerned.


    Perhaps that laugh had a lilt to it, as horrible as it was, he was beginning to like it.


    Next came more training, more study, and the slow, unspoken rhythm of something deeper unfolding between Ingrid and Dorian, a dance of glances, of lingering moments, of something unnamed but steadily growing.


    Dorian still kept the Technum page on him, though not for the reason he once had. It no longer felt like a violation, no longer a tether he wished to sever. Instead, it had become something else entirely. A quiet challenge to himself. A reminder.


    It wasn¡¯t about impressing Ingrid. It wasn¡¯t even about proving anything to her. It was about proving something to himself. If he had nothing to hide, then he had nothing to fear. If his thoughts, unfiltered and unguarded, were laid bare, then he could take pride in them rather than shame. It meant he could be exactly who he was, without artifice, without deception, without twisting his words to win favor or soften truths. If Ingrid still found interest in him, then it would be real. Earned. If she didn¡¯t, then at least he would know that whatever they shared had been honest. That he had been honest. Anything else would cheapen whatever it was between them. And Dorian knew, even if he wasn¡¯t ready to say it aloud, that he didn¡¯t want something lesser. Not with her.


    Over the next few months, the whispers began. Dorian didn¡¯t always catch them outright, but with a subtle thread of Gia sent to his eardrums, he could sharpen his hearing, though at the cost of drowning in the greater noise. Some murmured in shock, others in confusion. Some simply asked, ¡°Who is that?¡±


    These were people he had spent years beside. People who had once laughed at him, dismissed him, overlooked him entirely. And now, they didn¡¯t even recognize him. The thought sent a smug curl to his lips. Then came the other kind of attention, the kind that made things¡­ complicated.


    Say this for Ingrid: she was sharp, calculating, and meticulous. But for all her cleverness, for all her ability to probe the thoughts of others, she lacked something crucial, true empathy. Unless she linked to someone directly, their emotions were a puzzle to her, and she had no interest in wasting time solving them. What she did have, however, was a strong sense of ownership. A territorial streak as broad as the mountains, as sharp as her Shade. And when it came to the space she had carved out for herself, her ¡°queendom,¡± anyone who dared intrude found themselves swiftly, and without remorse, cast out.


    It was around this time that Ingrid crafted a second piece of Technum. Her first attempt had been crude, proof of her struggles with Shade, but she had learned from it. The trick to crafting Technum lay in the balance, an even mixture of Gia and Shade. This time, she had taken her time, refined her skill. The result was something far more intricate, a bracelet woven with purpose. She presented it to him as an apology.


    The design left an open link, allowing thoughts and emotions to flow both ways, but with a crucial difference, either of them could shut it off at will. No more intrusion without consent. No more silent pilfering of thoughts. She guided his hand, showing him where to place his own small contribution, and the moment he did, her emotions flooded into him.


    It was overwhelming. A deluge of feeling so raw, so unfiltered, that he nearly staggered. He had thought himself awash in his own tangled thoughts, but Ingrid¡­ Ingrid was a storm barely held at bay. She was nervous, excited, terrified, hopeful¡­ so many things that Dorian had to ask her to dial it back before it drowned him completely.


    With a little tinkering, the link softened. It wasn¡¯t so loud now. Except when they touched.


    That was when it surged, wild, undeniable. A rush of emotion so intense that it stole the breath from his lungs. He looked down to see her hand holding his.


    Dorian froze. The sensation confused him at first, his mind scrambling to trace it back to its source. What had triggered it? What had changed? Then his eyes met hers.


    His stupid brain finally shut the hell up.


    Dorian lived happily this way for a long time. He had a full year of complete bliss, but as the weeks passed and his body changed, he ever more dreaded the upcoming tournament. Not for the competition, he was looking forward to that. Looking forward to the grandstands stuffed with loud patrons, to the hush before the strike and the eruption of the crowd. No, he didn''t dread that. He dreaded leaving all this behind. He had found happiness, real happiness for the first time in his memory. The Gods knew he deserved it, but they also knew what he had been neglecting.


    As he began copying the words out of the rune encrypted journal, his stomach churned. As he put the book away, it seemed to carry away with it most memory after a short while. Whatever Technum the Grand Elder had worked was potent in the extreme, copying it seemed to be the only solution. The words he read there gave him nightmares, both waking and sleeping. The oncoming dread he felt for the tournament worsened as it was announced that the next Grand Elder had been chosen and would be revealed at the Grand Tournament.


    When he finished copying it all, reading it sequentially, he knew. Somewhere, in his mind, somehow, he knew. Knew that his happiness wouldn''t last, knew there was something very wrong with his world, a sickness plagued the forces they wielded. Kraken ...


    Whether the Grand Elder was simply mad, senile, or just twisted, the end result was the same. Perhaps the words were just that, words, an odd way to cope with his own certain death but Dorian didn''t believe that. He had no idea what to do about it, he wasn''t powerful, nor was he anything special. He was just Dorian, and the only things he''d found himself good at were swinging a stick and loving with his whole heart.


    For what little corner of the universe he had carved for himself, he came to the conclusion that left him hearing the laughter of the Gods. The one option they''d left him with, the one choice. Instead of ascension, he would trade his boon. He would likely die for it, or end up a cleaning shit or worse, but what other options did he have?


    Resolved, he knew what had to be done. Win the Grand Tournament, and for his boon, spare the lives of those he loved.

 Chapter 34 - The Calm Before

    Dorian stood at the heart of a grand city, bathed in golden light. It soaked into his skin, lifting him, making him feel weightless, like a leaf caught in the wind. He drifted effortlessly, reveling in the warmth until something shifted.


    A tower loomed ahead, tall and black as the void between stars. It stood in stark contrast to the brilliance around it, an unwelcome blemish upon the dream¡¯s serenity. A thin section of its surface peeled away, vanishing as if something inside had slithered free. Curious, Dorian drifted closer and peered into the darkness beyond the missing sliver.


    An eye peered back, decidedly not a human eye.


    "Hello, little Dorian," a voice rumbled from within. Deep, guttural, more beast than man. "Have you come to play?"


    Dorian hesitated. His voice, when it came, was small. "No."


    Another sliver of the tower sloughed away, dissolving into blackness. More of the thing inside was revealed, pale, slick flesh stretched over a body twisted and wrong, its jagged teeth glinting like shattered glass.


    "Oh," the thing murmured, as if disappointed. "That is¡­ unfortunate."


    "I''m sorry," Dorian said automatically.


    The creature stilled. Another section of its prison peeled away. Its flesh was crawling, tumors writhing in ceaseless motion.


    "Sorry?" It repeated the word, its lipless mouth curling as if tasting it.


    "Yes," Dorian whispered. "Sorry."


    The thing¡¯s expression twisted, shifting between rage and revulsion. "Sorry?!" The word exploded outward, making the world tremble. The last remnants of the black tower slithered away, revealing the full horror of the being before him. Abhorrent. Tortured. Twisted. Piteous. Malignant. The echoes of these words hung in the air like a curse as the city around them collapsed into nothing.


    Now, they were alone. The creature regarded him, its mouth curling in something that might have been amusement. Or disgust. "What has happened to you, little Dorian?"


    Dorian felt the weight of the question burrow into him, as if it had hooked into the depths of his being. He looked down and found himself as he was now, no longer a child, but the man he had grown into.


    The creature exhaled, tilting its head. "Oh. I see. So, you''ve found peace, then?"


    Dorian hesitated, then nodded. He held the thing¡¯s gaze, unwavering.


    The creature¡¯s expression darkened. "Peace?" Then, it screamed.


    The sound wasn¡¯t sound, it was a force, a wave of rage and despair so powerful it devoured the space around them. "This is not the time for peace, you cur! Is your word worth so little?!"


    The words struck like hammer blows, stripping away all pretense. There was no need to process them, no time for doubt. The truth of them sank deep, and something inside Dorian stirred, an old, familiar fury.


    "What are you to question me?" he demanded.


    The creature sneered. "I question who you are."


    Dorian straightened, his breath even. "I am Dorian."


    The words rippled through the void.


    Silence, then the world vanished.


    Only the faintest whisper remained, curling around him like a breath against his ear.


    "Is that all?"


    Dorian sat upright gasping, his vast bed shaking as his momentum came to rest.


    ¡°Gwendos and his sack, Dorian.¡± He heard a moan from the slowly stirring form next to him.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry. Go back to bed, I''m gonna go walk a bit.¡±


    Her tone, despite being barely awake, was exacerbated. ¡°Just say what you mean, you have to piss.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have to piss.¡±


    ¡°See, that''s better.¡± She mumbled before drifting off.


    He knew she knew what he meant, he seldom took his bracelet off any longer. It sat on his wrist, inlaid with old stone, the collage of fossils instilled in it still catching his attention nearly as often as her thoughts had. He sighed, knowing he was too soft. Boldness was the way with her, but he could seldom manage unless his blood was up. That was one of the small problems, though numerous, it didn''t even make his list.


    These nightmares, however, were becoming a serious problem. This thing he''d dreamt up was becoming a nuisance, it seemed no matter how much he fought it he couldn''t be rid of the monster. He had no idea how his imagination had manifested it, but for several months now it had been paying him visits. As the tournament grew closer, it seemed to come nightly. Now, just a day out and prepared to leave The Monastery for the first time in memory, he knew the thing would pay him a visit.


    Leaving the room, he heard the raucous snores of Ingrid. He found it oddly endearing, even if she shook the walls of the stone chamber like a willow in the winds. She always snored when she was exhausted, or if she had a few drinks, but with both? He knew what to expect.


    Stepping into the hall through the sliding stone door, he closed it softly behind him. The ¡°clubhouse¡± as they called it, had accommodated their needs, and had even thrown a celebration for them. Still, though, he had to dim the lights in the hall as he had just left a pitch-black room.


    ¡°Hey, who''s turning it down?¡± Someone in the largest chamber called over the soft music.


    ¡°Just letting my eye''s adjust, sorry.¡± Dorian silently swore at himself, he''d been apologizing far too often lately, and even if it was polite to say it, he''d rather not lie. Another part of his mind told him that apologizing like that was a sign of weakness, which is why people used to treat him so poorly. Then again, if he didn''t, he was just as bad as the classless jackasses that shit on people for the fun of it, which wasn''t Dorian either. He sighed to himself as he entered the privy, arguing with oneself wasn''t a sign of confidence either.


    After taking care of his business, he felt surprisingly awake. His sleep schedule was always a wreck whenever he came out of the training grounds, he was happy he wouldn''t have to make that adjustment again. He decided to mingle, briefly, with those still awake. Vinny was there, though without Malik. Vinny was always incredibly polite to Dorian, likely because he still owed Dorian money.


    ¡°Hello, Vinny. Still burning that midnight oil?¡±


    ¡°Evening, Dorian. Fine of you to join us.¡±


    ¡°Fine of you to have me. Seems so quiet tonight, I''m surprised you''re still up.¡±


    He shrugged one shoulder, gesturing to the few still up. One person was idly fingering some kind of string instrument, while a few others were playing cards. Dorian took a seat next to Vinny and poured himself a cup. That''s when he spotted Jack with his lady love, tucked away, whispering soft nothings to each other. Jack had paired up with a very quiet Danae a week ago, or month as Dorian saw it.


    It surprised him initially, Jack was true to his lineage, he was like a living stone. Rough around some edges, but goofy and kindhearted if you knew him. If you didn''t, you likely saw him as stalwart, somber. The people that thought that simply didn''t know Jack. Still, the soft and quiet Danae was an odd mixture with the stone man. She was obviously Gwendian, fair haired and with a light complexion, and you didn''t get any more Kressian than Jack. He hadn''t grown an inch, even after he spent a few weeks in the training grounds, though he was as broad as Dorian despite being a hand shorter. His hair cut short for his competitions, black haired with a complexion closer to mud than clay. Jack would be competing in the Colosseum as well, just not in the main event.


    Vinny noted Dorian looking over the couple''s way and smiled. ¡°Surprised?¡±


    Dorian shook his head. ¡°Not really. They actually blend quite well. He''s very tender with her, it seems.¡± Dorian smiled, happy for his friend.


    ¡°I think so too. Speaking of, how is Ingrid? Malik hasn''t spoken of her in weeks, and I haven''t had the time to catch up with her.¡±


    ¡°Quite well.¡± Dorian gave a happy smile. Vinny gestured for Dorian to continue, he did so reluctantly. ¡°We''ve kept ourselves busy, she has so many Primes and she struggles to keep up in her studies. Of course she''s still excellent as ever, and I like to think I bring her enough joy to make it worth her while.¡±


    Vinny smiled broadly, flashing his teeth. Dorian thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he could swear it didn''t meet Vinny''s eyes.


    ¡°That''s good to hear. Ready for the big day tomorrow? Leaving the Monastery, It will be the first time in a long time for me.¡±


    Surprised, Dorian said, ¡°oh? You''ve left before?¡±


    Vinny waved it away. ¡°Missionary work, helping those to the path and such. I was allowed to travel with one of the priests for a time. I spent time helping with simple things, irrigation systems, water veins, moving aquifers, I even spent a few days shaping new homes for Metan after the plague.¡±


    Dorian hadn''t heard of this and was intrigued. He took a drink and asked, ¡°Metan had a plague?¡±


    Vinny nodded somberly. ¡°Poor folks, cut their population in half. I''m surprised they''ve even been allowed to present competitors to the dueling brackets, they''ve basically restarted from scratch. They did find their Steelfyre though, and that put them in good graces with everybody.¡±


    Dorian gave a contemplative ¡°hmm¡± before having another drink.


    ¡°So, think you''ll win?¡±


    Dorian shrugged. ¡°Won¡¯t really know until we know.¡±


    Surprised, Vinny said, ¡°that is a surprisingly nonchalant attitude for someone about to stand before thousands of patrons.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that part... Ya, well, I''m freaking out about the beginning ceremonies, unpracticed and all, but for the competition itself? Meh.¡± Dorian shrugged. ¡°I''ve trained as hard as I could, and if there''s someone out there better than me, fretting about it now won¡¯t do me any good. The die has already been cast, we just need to see how they turn up.¡±


    ¡°Wow, it''s that simple to you?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah. Besides, everything else disappears when the match starts, and I know that. When it''s just me and the staff, and another trying to take me out, there is nothing else. Maybe I''m stupid or just can''t pay attention to more than one thing at a time. What I''m sure about is that I''ve spent the last year and change of my life dedicated to being in that space. Doing it somewhere else is just different spices to the same meal.¡±


    ¡°You are something of a wonder, Mr. Dorian. I''m glad to have known you.¡±


    ¡°And I, you, Vinny.¡± Dorian shook hands with the man, starting to get up.


    ¡°Oh, and one more thing, Dorian.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Would you say you''ve been happy?¡±


    Thrown off by the question, he gave Vinny a confused look before he smiled. Laughing it off, Dorian said, ¡°of course, Vinny. I don''t know if I''ve ever been so happy.¡±


    For whatever reason, Vinny was delighted to hear it. ¡°Good. I had to ask, and I have a gift for you, Dorian. Don¡¯t open it until the finals, whether you make it or not.¡±


    Vinny handed Dorian a small stone, it was surprisingly light. ¡°Have Ingrid open it, you¡¯ll know what for when the time comes. Consider it a bit of motivation.¡±


    That¡¯s all Vinny would say on the subject. He was suddenly very animated in getting Dorian back to his room, which he obliged as he was ready to go back to sleep.


    ¡°Dorian, it''s time to go.¡± Ingrid said, shaking him awake.


    ¡°Eh?¡± He replied, before turning his face back into the pillow. It was warm and cozy, and brought all the comfort of the world, the notion of turning away from it was dreadful. Meeting his day, he took the charcoal mixture that was next to the bed, drinking it in one swig. Following that, he dressed half dazed. Ingrid was already dressed, hair in a tight braid, and was heading out the door before Dorian stopped her.


    ¡°What? I''m going to be late.¡±


    ¡°Hold fast, I haven''t even greeted you yet. You wouldn''t let me go about such a venture without a kiss before parting, would you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course I would.¡± She started turning, but Dorian was quick to step out into the hall. He grabbed her by the shoulder, turned her, placed the hand at the small of her back. Now inches away, he could feel the heat of her breath. Cupping her cheek, he gave her a proper kiss, the kind he''d like to give her every day.


    A few people Dorian hadn''t noticed hooted. ¡°Get a room!¡± Called one, making Dorian grin and blush before releasing her. She smiled quickly at him, turned, and left down the hall. Dorian watched her braid bouncing, and took a passing glance at her perky backside. Gods, she is a beautiful storm, he thought before turning and gathering his things.


    The dining hall was filled to the brim, and had Dorian not headed towards where he knew Clarice would be, he would have had to wait all morning. Luckily, between helping her prepare dishes when she served her time on the training grounds, as well as sharing a few more recipes with the staff, Dorian was more than welcome to come in through the back and get himself a hardy breakfast. He cooked his own eggs, though. He liked the yolk, and the sloppy scrambled concoction they served for the general initiate simply didn''t compare. He spoke with Clarice briefly, but she had to hurry along. This was going to be a very long day for the cooking staff, most of the food had already been transported, but they had to haul all their gear down with them. It was less task and more torture, as they had to finish cleaning the dishes after breakfast, pack up and be on their way.


    Dorian, like all the other initiates, had already packed for their stay. Dorian didn''t have much save for his tunics, a ceremonial robe, his quarterstaff, and a few books. He''d leave the books behind, too much weight and all, but the rest were ready and packed in his rooms. He had to stash the journal and it''s copy, one he kept in the walls of the clubhouse, the other he kept in Jack''s rooms.


    Dorian finished eating in quick order, he knew he had to meet the rest of the competitors on the first floor within the hour.


    When he arrived on the first floor, there was barely any room for him. The crowd of people mulled about and the chatter was loud enough to make his ears ring. So many people, and this is the small group.


    He found Jack, though with so many about it wasn''t easy. If Dorian hadn''t been so tall, he likely wouldn''t have. Jack stood with the other throwers, that being the nickname Dorian had given them. They came to the training grounds a few times, practicing one of the oldest form of competition ever.


    ¡°What''s happening Jack, glad to see you bright eyed and bushy tailed.¡±


    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±


    Dorian''s hands went up, ¡°actually.¡± His hands went down, ¡°I don''t really know what it means. Something about being up early?¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± There was a pause, ¡°where did you hear that?¡±


    ¡°Not really sure about that either.¡± Dorian rubbed the back of his head. ¡°So, how is Danae?¡± He drew the words out. Jack''s face, though it was hard to see, turned a little red.


    ¡°She''s great.¡± That goofy grin.


    ¡°Good to hear, any idea when we''re getting out of here? I''m ready to get this done.¡±


    ¡°What''s got you in such a hurry, you had ice in your veins last night.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, that was last night. There''s too many people, the air stinks like morning breath and body odor.¡± Dorian sniffed himself. ¡°Oh, that might be me.¡±


    Jack laughed, only then did Dorian notice how tense he was.


    ¡°How about you, excited to get your wins?¡± Dorian asked Jack, hoping to relieve some of his friend¡¯s tension.


    ¡°Yeah, I''m ready.¡± Jack replied, then he said, ¡°I just don''t want to walk so much. It''ll be more than eight hours from now, that''s a long ass walk.¡±


    Dorian nodded, then they fell into the habitual banter of old friends passing time. Before long, Master Flint came to the front of the library steps. He took out a cone shaped thing and spoke loudly into it.


    ¡°Quiet!¡± It startled Dorian, it was significantly louder than he expected.


    ¡°If the competing initiates will please settle down, we can begin instruction. Those of you that are to compete in the Quarterstaff please take your leave to the far wall across from me. Brother Michael, if you would.¡± Brother Michael? He''s back?


    The far wall split apart and folded away, the stone shifting with a fluid grace that Dorian had never seen before, except for the day the Grand Elder shaped the Colosseum. But that had been at such a distance that he couldn''t make out the details.


    Here, the movement was closer, more tangible. The stone didn¡¯t crack or break; it flowed, like water thickened to sap, bowing outward before splitting at the base. Morning light poured through the widening gap, flooding the chamber with warmth. The scent of farmland drifted in, rich with earth and growth.


    Dorian breathed it in. The air, even tinged with soil and livestock, was a welcome reprieve from the stale, heavy dampness of the stone halls.


    ¡°If you please, take your leave. Remember, when you approach the edge of the time bubble, do not dally. There are repercussions you can''t even imagine.¡±


    ¡°I guess that means me, see you in the quarters.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good, Dorian. I just hope the quarters aren''t tents around an open fire.¡±


    ¡°Why''s that? Trying to sneak your girl over?¡±


    The mock offense Jack took as he gestured to himself spoke for itself.


    After more than five hours of travel, Dorian finally drew close enough to the Colosseum to make out its finer details. The sheer scale of it was staggering. At first, he told himself it was a trick of the eye, an illusion of distance, but with every step forward, the enormity of it became undeniable. Nothing crafted by human hands should stand so vast.


    The towering columns were a gleaming marble white, while the layered sections between them were pitch black, creating a stark contrast that made the structure seem almost unreal. Ornate carvings adorned its surface, though from this distance, the details blurred into a grand display of craftsmanship. The walkway leading up to it was checkered, the alternating stones forming a pattern that seemed almost deliberate, as if marking the path to something greater than mere spectacle.


    Around the perimeter, massive spires jutted skyward, each supporting colossal flat sections that loomed overhead. Four of them tilted inward, arching toward the center like the ribs of some ancient beast. It gave the illusion of a dome, yet Dorian doubted their purpose was simply to shield from the elements. There was intent behind their placement, some purpose he couldn''t yet fathom.


    Even as he stood on the approach, staring up at its vastness, his mind struggled to reconcile the reality of it. The Colosseum was not merely a structure, it was a monument to something greater than men, something beyond mortal ambition.


    When he stood at the base of it, looking up gave him vertigo. The polish of the walls reflected the light of the sun, and even the distant city of Gwendos could barely compete with this single large structure. The smell was oddly dusty, strange for the season. Autumn usually was excessively muddy, though the season had just begun.


    He frowned suddenly, as he wasn''t sure how or why he knew that. It felt like he was tapping at something in the back of his mind.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    It''s time to wake up, little Dorian.


    With a shiver, Dorian turned back to the people milling towards him. The procession was a long one, a continuous line of people heading all the way back to the Monastery proper. The Monastery Temple, basically the manse that the Grand Elder and his Priests stayed in, was on a rise to the north east. It stood there, black as tar, seemingly in judgment of them. As he stared at it, his curiosity was piqued. He looked through his Giasight, entertaining a simple thought, when he gasped.


    The entire Colosseum was covered in intricate runes. He knew much more now than he had back when he had first discovered them, but this was so far beyond him. He didn''t even know where to begin. Some of them were connected, he could tell by their angles and the way they flowed, but others stood alone. Some seemed to say ¡°exhilaration¡± while others were chained together in a way that he had no idea what they meant or did. He recognized a few that Ingrid had shown him, one of the large broad stones above had a large rune on it that meant reflection. Reflect what?


    Jack had managed to catch up to him, he was laughing maniacally. ¡°Can you believe this, Dorian?! Look at it! It''s unbelievable!¡± His voice echoed back from the archway they stood near.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± Dorian laughed.


    Before Jack had a chance to say anything else, Master Flint used his cone to inform them as to where they should be heading.


    ¡°Posted inside, there are directions for each group of the competitors as to where your quarters will be. Please take your leave immediately. Do not stand about. We have many more to settle in before this day is over. Thank you.¡±


    Shrugging, Dorian walked just behind Alex and the few other combatants that he hadn''t met. They headed directly to a large parchment posted to the wall. There it listed all of the various groups that comprised the Monastery initiates. There at the top left of the page read: Quarterstaff Competitors, Section 1, Quadrant 1: Overseer: Brother Michael of the stone shapers.


    Finding the map, Dorian saw that his were the closest living quarters to ground floor. Also, according to the map, its hallway led directly to a large balcony for the show. It was close, unbelievably so.


    ¡°Well, Jack, I''m off to get settled in.¡±


    He nodded once before going back to finding where he''d be staying.


    ¡°Before I forget, if you see Benny and Ken, you''re all welcome to drop in on me. I''m at one and one, and if you manage to forget, well, you won¡¯t be welcome anymore.¡± He smiled ruefully at his friend.


    Jack clapped him on the shoulder, ¡°good thing because you''re not welcome in mine.¡± Dorian knew he was joking, until he thought about Danae, then thought again. He pondered it as he left, shaking his head all the while.


    As he approached his quarters, Dorian marveled at the pristine condition of everything around him. The sheer level of decoration was staggering, especially if the entire Colosseum had been furnished as elaborately as the halls he had passed through. Portraits of past Grand Elders lined the walls, their stern gazes watching over the corridors. A rich red carpet ran down the center of each hallway, leaving the stone walkways on either side bare.


    Sections of the walls had been shaped with precision, forming alcoves that held torches, vases, decorative weaponry, and intricate tapestries. Towering pots of shrubs stood at the entrance to each archway, adding a touch of life to the stone corridors. Even the public washrooms boasted running water, an impressive feat of engineering. It was, without a doubt, a wonder.


    Reaching his section, he turned down the first hallway leading inward. Each door bore a letter with a name, sunlight streaming in from the far end. He walked slowly, scanning for his own. Midway down, he found it. Pulling the letter free, he opened it to reveal a small note and a key. The note read:


    Dorian,


    I know we haven''t spoken in a while, I''m glad to see you''ve come into your own. This is the key to your room, don''t lose it as I have the only spare. Your attire is inside, everyone has been given three sets. Win or lose, you get to keep them. You are welcome to invite up to two others to join you in your rooms until lights out. That would be an hour after sunset, do pay heed to this as the first round of the day will be two hours before noon. Attend the balcony tonight for the sermon at sunset, be sure to wear your robes. If I don''t see you, Good Luck-


    -Michael Miller


    The first thing he noticed was the last name. Miller? Really? He hadn''t a clue, furthermore, Dorian found it very odd that the man didn''t use his title but instead used his name. The second thing he thought was how he would find Ingrid in this entire mess.


    Sighing, he came into his chamber and laughed out loud. It was an almost exact replica of the rooms he had slept in when he was attending the training grounds. Say this for the Monastery, they didn''t care much for variety.


    Kurt woke early that morning, just as he had every morning since reuniting his father with the rest of their family. Some days tested his patience, his resolve, and his endurance. Other days were simply miserable. Still, Kurt took his licks like anyone else and kept moving forward.


    Coming out of his tent to the predawn light, it would be the last time he''d see the sunrise from the trees. He''d come to find that waking this early was worth it, the rest of the challenges of his day weren''t so bad so long as he had taken to his training.


    It had been nearly six months since he first woke to the sight of his ravaged village, smoking houses, makeshift barricades, the ghosts of what once was. Since that day, and since his first encounter with Quena, he hadn¡¯t let a single day pass without spending time with her. Even when she grew distant, retreating into herself, he made sure she never felt alone. Regaining her memories was difficult, and sometimes he wondered if she might have been better off without them.


    Still, when he first handed her a staff and told her to defend herself, she was surprised by how natural it felt. She had once mentioned, in a dark room surrounded by Moder¡¯s gremlins, that she remembered having calluses on her hands. Now, with every sparring session, he helped her rediscover why.


    Kurt had moved through the seven stances and their three accompanying forms, then repeated the drills with the spear. A few months back, Quena had joined him for the spear work, and she had taken to it as effortlessly as a bird to flight. As the sun finally crested the mountains and filtered through the treetops, both of them had worked up a solid sweat. Kurt typically continued until the rest of the Metians stirred, while Quena would slip away before anyone else woke.


    Occasionally, one of the caravan guards or his older cousin, Vincent, would step in to spar. But none of them could hold a candle to Quena, let alone to Kurt. That was just the way of things.


    Kurt had been the obvious shoe-in for the three representing Metan. One of the outskirts trappers had shown his willingness, a gruff sort but he was too short by half to get far and most everyone knew it. His name was Anthony, but everyone knew him by Tony.  The other, unfortunately, was Bo.


    Bo was still a swaggering pile of scat, as far as Kurt was concerned, and had come out of the situation in Metan completely carefree. He had taken over as head of the Smith''s, his father too wracked by illness had died during the plague. The requisition of Steelfyre making him extraordinarily wealthy, leaving him with enough sway to egg his way in as a contestant. The bear scat.


    He wished that Quena could have competed, despite her haughty disposition, she had the knack for it. If only the girl would gain some weight, but she refused to eat meat after they had returned to Metan. Something had happened and she refused to talk about it. That was Q though, reserved as she could be, she was a solid pillar in Kurt''s life.


    At times, Kurt regretted refusing her.


    After their return, something had sparked between them, undeniable, unspoken, but there all the same. She never said it outright, but he recognized the look in her eyes, the lingering touch, the slight quirk of her brow. He knew what it meant. He had seen it before.


    Against his want, he had held back. Not because he didn¡¯t desire her, Gods, that wasn¡¯t the problem, but because it would have been a disservice to them both. Too much of Diana lingered in her, and Kurt refused to let his attraction be muddled by the past. He had something with Diana once, and Quena wasn¡¯t her. They couldn¡¯t have been more different.


    Diana had been warmth, nurturing in a way that wrapped around others like a blanket. Quena, though cut from the same cloth in many ways, lacked that instinct entirely. She wasn¡¯t a mother bear, nor a lioness. She didn¡¯t protect with gentle hands or soothing words. She was something else entirely, something sleek, dangerous, untamed. A black panther, striking from the shadows, guarding what was hers with claws and teeth rather than comfort.


    And that, in truth, was what made the temptation so damn difficult. Because for all his reasons, for all his restraint, he couldn¡¯t deny it, he wanted her for who she was. Not as a reflection of her sister, but as herself.


    Now that he had finished his daily routine, he readied himself and his father for the upcoming walk. Randall Cook was no longer the bright-eyed head cook, even if he was technically the first of the house, he couldn''t bask in the success that Moder had given them.


    Moder, the spiteful bastard, had played his hand well. By supplying them with raw Steelfyre ore in staggering abundance, he had inadvertently filled the Smiths¡¯ coffers with wealth beyond reason. An unfortunate consequence, but at least there was some justice in the fact that the Smelters, holding the real power in the exchange, had been wringing every last coin from them. From what Kurt had heard, the Smiths were being bled dry in turn. Still, there were resounding profits that the smiths had been making. The Smelters had been sticking it to them harder than a plowman could. Kurt grimaced, then smirked. Poor taste.


    Shaking his head, Kurt washed himself in a portable basin before turning his attention to his father. Rand still hadn¡¯t fully recovered from his ordeal with Bacchus. Since his return, he spent most of his days staring into nothing, drooling absently, a hollow shell of the man he had once been. Occasionally, he would mutter in tongues, fragmented whispers of something long lost, but even those moments were rare.


    Still, there were glimpses, flickers of the father Kurt remembered. Watching him spar seemed to stir something deep within Rand, holding his attention in a way nothing else could. It was enough to tell Kurt that his father was still in there, buried beneath whatever nightmare had consumed him. The challenge was pulling him back out.


    After his father was dressed, Kurt took to breaking down their tent, gathering their supplies and preparing themselves for the last leg of their journey. It had been a long walk, the caravan slowing down their speeds, and his father besides, they had been on the road for six days now. This was the first and only time in his memory that the entire village had been summoned. This Grand Tournament was supposed to be grand indeed.


    Kurt''s mother had taken to village head, as was expected. Agatha Weaver had stepped down willingly, which wasn''t much of a surprise. She had shamed herself in her responsibility to the village, but she didn''t mind. She had her heir, even if she couldn''t announce it yet. Quena, simply by existing, had given something back to the poor old woman. She wasn''t half as broken as when Kurt spoke with her last, her grief over Diana still wore on the elder woman but Kurt thought that she could bear the brunt of it in Quena''s presence.


    Finally packed, Kurt loaded his father up with his travel bag. He might not be all there in the head, but the man was still relatively massive, he carried the heavy pack without a single complaint. Kurt nabbed his own, and they were off to meet the day.


    Kurt sighed as his father veered from the path yet again.


    ¡°No, Dad, this way,¡± he said, gently guiding him back. Rand hesitated but resumed the walk, his vacant eyes drifting ahead as they finally broke the tree line.


    Gwendon stretched before them, its wide-spaced buildings looking just as he remembered. What he wasn¡¯t looking forward to was the stench of the city. Thousands of people crammed into one place¡ªit took all his willpower not to turn around right then and there.


    Glancing back at the rest of the village, he saw them for what they were. Haggard, tired, still recovering from the plague. They were his own, and as one of the chosen for the arena, he couldn¡¯t turn his back on them now.


    The morning dragged, a slow crawl of footsteps and weary voices. It wasn¡¯t until just before noon that the final wagons of the caravan reached the city gates. His mother was there at the rear, urging the stragglers forward, making sure no one was left behind. The other village heads were there too, every trade house accounted for. Rita caught sight of him then, waving with a smirk. ¡°All hail to the King of the Wilds,¡± she called. Kurt pursed his lips, unamused.


    Though the men had no memory of that night in full, they somehow recalled his drunken proclamation. ¡°King of the Wilds,¡± or something close to it. He hadn¡¯t thought he had said those exact words, but that hardly mattered now. He was the one who had brought the men back, and in their eyes, that made him something worth toasting, mocking, or both. Shaking his head, he kept his father close and fell into step beside his mother as the end of the caravan caught up.


    She halted abruptly, looking to the elders. ¡°I need a word with my son. If you would?¡±


    They hesitated, then moved ahead, widening the space between them. Bo lingered longer than the others, his glare withering. Kurt smirked at the pompous little pimple of a man until Bo finally looked away. That¡¯s right, you wretch. If the Gods are good, you¡¯ll get yours.


    When the space was clear, he nodded to his mother. ¡°How has the morning treated you?¡±


    She let out an exhausted sigh. ¡°Like every other. One person has a plan for this, another has a plan for that, and nine times out of ten, there¡¯s no way to balance it. I burn almost all of them.¡± She turned her gaze to Rand. ¡°How is he today?¡±


    ¡°The same as usual. He¡¯s been prone to wandering ever since we got near the tree line. It¡¯s like he doesn¡¯t want to be without the trees.¡±


    ¡°Sounds about right.¡± She shifted Teresa in her arms. ¡°Come, we have a few things to discuss.¡± She raised her voice. ¡°In private.¡± The remaining villagers took the hint, pressing forward.


    She passed Teresa into his arms, freeing herself. ¡°Really, I just wanted those ones to move along. I can¡¯t get a moment to myself these days. Here, take your sister.¡± Kurt took the baby, cradling her close as he handed off his staff.


    His mother turned it in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship. ¡°Did Dorian really make this?¡±


    He nodded, a sad smile touching his lips. ¡°Said I¡¯d need it for the tournament.¡±


    ¡°Well, he was right.¡± She handed it back. ¡°I¡¯ll take over from here. You need to head up with the other contestants. And don¡¯t get any ideas, but you¡¯ll have your own rooms.¡±


    Kurt raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°There¡¯s a sermon tonight, and you¡¯ll be on display. I packed robes for you, remember, you¡¯re representing us to the entire valley.¡±


    She gave him a pointed look, clearly catching the reluctance written across his face.


    ¡°Oh, stop that. You¡¯ll do fine. You¡¯ve already made me proud, so don¡¯t waste time worrying about that. Just do your best.¡± She reached for Teresa, trading him the staff in return. Kurt took it, scanning the procession ahead. His eyes searched for Quena.


    Rita took Rand by the arm, steering him toward the city proper. His mother turned back. ¡°And another thing, those rooms of yours? I expect you to be asleep by lights out. And don¡¯t go talking to those hussies from the city.¡±


    Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose, already knowing what was coming.


    ¡°You¡¯re a nice boy. Why don¡¯t you consider settling down? I know that Weaver girl has an eye for you.¡±


    Kurt shut his eyes. It was the only way to escape the shame of it all.


    After parting with his mother, he caught up to Quena. Since she wasn''t supposed to be there to begin with, he figured his rooms would be a sight better than sleeping in the ditch or camping out on the plane. When she took this as Kurt being forward, he swiftly corrected that he needed someone to keep all the groupies away from him since he''d be taking the win. She laughed but gave him a shifted eye before following him along. By chance, he ran into Tony on the way out and told him that the combatants had private rooms in the Colosseum proper. To this, Tony was delighted. He joined their motley crew, heading in the direction of the large circular building, its tall spire not seeming so far off.


    He was wrong, painfully so. What he had expected to take an hour dragged on for nearly three. The Colosseum was massive, far larger than he had anticipated, and the sheer number of people heading toward it was just as overwhelming. A seemingly endless line stretched from somewhere off in the distance, steadily feeding into the great structure.


    Kurt frowned. ¡°What¡¯s with all the people?¡±


    ¡°Initiates,¡± Quena said solemnly.


    He turned at the sound of her voice, only to find her looking unusually pale.


    That was saying something. She was already fair, but now she looked as if all the blood had drained from her face.


    Tony spit, grumbling something about vagabond priests, and Kressor''s chosen. Kurt wasn''t sure what the older man was talking about, and he didn''t really care either.


    They came to the main entry, mostly vacant, though there were a few individuals milling about. A large sign that sat atop a table had the word ¡°combatants¡± seared into it, a coinciding arrow pointing down a hallway. Kurt shrugged and turned to his companions. Upon doing so, he spotted someone in the distance following the same path they had taken. Even from this distance, that lanky form could only be Bo. It was odd to Kurt that a smith had not been broad, but somehow Bo was as thin as a line tree.


    ¡°Ah, Gods damn it all.¡± Kurt said, sounding frustrated. ¡°Could that lanky bastard just bugger off somewhere?¡±


    A grunt of assent came from Tony and a careless shrug from Quena. Shaking his head slightly, Kurt led the way from the entrance following the arrow as directed. The halls were immaculate, entirely too clean for his liking. He didn''t mind order and all, but this level of cleanliness was unnecessary. Even the sconces that were placed throughout the hall hadn''t been there long enough for the soot to accumulate. It was odd, like the master work of the most anal person to ever walk the earth. Perhaps, that was an occupation in the Monastery. Master of the Puckered Arts.


    ¡°What are you grinning at?¡± Quena asked, head tilted displaying her long and elegant neck.


    Kurt coughed into a closed fist. ¡°Oh, nothing appropriate, I assure you. Hey, I think that''s where we''re heading.¡± Kurt pointed, glad to change the subject.


    There was a break in the stone, inside it sat a middle aged woman, one that looked oddly familiar.


    ¡°Hello, we saw the sign. We''re the combatants from Metan.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see.¡± She moved about behind the counter, pulling out a ledger and three keys. ¡°Which one of you is Kurtis Hunt?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Kurt said as he stepped forward.


    ¡°You''ll have to leave that here.¡± She said this with such absolution that Kurt didn''t even think before he handed over his staff.


    He stalled midway, ¡°I''ll be getting that back for the matches, right?¡±


    ¡°Well of course, but we have to make sure it''s up to code. There may be some alterations, but I''ll get your ascent before anything is done to it. Oh, that is quite nice.¡± Kurt let go and she took it into hand. She marveled at it momentarily before she gently placed it underneath the counter. ¡°Here is your key, you''ll be contestant 26 until the second day.¡±


    Kurt brought his brows down. ¡°Wait, I don''t even get to display my name until the second day? Why the heck not?¡± He wanted to say, ¡°Why the hell not,¡± but didn''t think this to be the place for swearing.


    The woman laughed at Kurt, making his face flush red.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say there''s a rule change, one you don''t agree with, and you concede. Would you want the name of your house to be labeled cowards?¡±


    Kurt thought for a moment, then he said, ¡°well, no I-¡±


    ¡°Say you come out to your first match, and the sight of so many people watching you sends a cold shiver up your spine. You freeze up, or even worse, wet yourself? Is that something you''d like your family to take responsibility for?¡±


    ¡°No, I-¡±


    ¡°Say you get to your second round of the day-¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay, I get it. You''ve made your point. Where are my rooms?¡±


    ¡°Combatants are on the second floor with a great view of the grounds. You''ll have a communal balcony, though since Metan has smaller numbers you''ll have to share the balcony with the community leaders.¡±


    ¡°With what leaders?¡±


    ¡°Oh, there''s your own leader, Rita Hunt, and the City Heads of Gwendon, and the Kressian-¡±


    Kurt''s eyebrows shot to his hairline, ¡°I see.¡± He said it completely deadpan. So much for throwing a party, when his mother, along with the other big names, inhabited the same floor. Kressor''s blackened balls, that sucks.


    ¡°Is everything all right?¡± The woman asked.


    ¡°Yes, fine, thank you. Will that staircase take us where we need to be?¡±


    She nodded. Kurt was going to head that way, taking Quena with him but before he had a chance to snag her attention, she was speaking in hushed tones with the desk jockey. Kurt had picked up a trick over the last few months, focusing a bit of Gia into his eardrum, he could hear far more clearly. He did so.


    ¡°Yes, you see, Bo is kind of my... beau. He''s very busy, you see, head of the Smith''s house in Metan. I figured I''d surprise him before his big match, maybe give him something to motivate him.¡±


    Kurt let it drop after that, walked to the staircase and waited there. After Quena came over, she winked at him before taking a seat on the stairs.


    ¡°Don''t you want to head up?¡±


    ¡°It will look too obvious that you were waiting for me if we don''t wait for Tony. Just sit tight, Bo still had some walking left and I saw a crowd of people heading our way from Gwendon. I don''t think he''ll make his way this far for another hour at least.¡±


    Just then, a sudden chatter of people came from down the large entryway. The crowd, the patrons, the very beginning of what made an event like this so important. Spectators had begun arriving.


    Climbing the stairs was quick, Tony being the only one talking. He babbled about how much the woman behind the counter looked like his mother, though Kurt didn¡¯t see it. When they reached their floor, Kurt and Quena took their leave of him, but not before Tony awkwardly stalled, firing off several questions about their schedule. When they had to be where, how the rest of the evening would go, what was expected the following morning. Kurt told him he knew as much as Tony did, and they¡¯d figure it out as they went. With a nod, Tony left for his room, just a few doors down.


    Kurt opened his door to find a marvelously large bed. Beyond it, sparse but well-crafted furniture filled the space, with additional rooms branching off. Quena let out a haughty chuckle, remarking that the layout was identical to the Priorius chambers back at the Monastery. She gave him a brief tour, ending in the center of the room. When she looked up at him, her big brown eyes nearly made his knees buckle.


    ¡°Can I see your key?¡± She asked innocently.


    Confused, he slowly reached into his trouser pocket, then checked the other. His hands patted over his shirt, searching, as if he might have absentmindedly tucked it there instead. When he glanced at Quena, he caught the mischievous grin spreading across her face.


    ¡°You sneaky wench.¡± He shook his head.


    ¡°You''ve caught me, whatever will you do about it?¡± She smiled at him, glint in her eye. An eyebrow quirked as she looked at the bed.


    Kurt was about to say something when she said, ¡°hold that thought.¡± Reaching down to a small pouch she had on her, she rummaged through it. The sound of rocks clacking against each other came from the movement. Not surprisingly, she pulled out a small stone. Holding out the key, she closed her hand around the stone.


    Kurt could tell that she was doing something with her Prime, and when she opened her hand she held a copy of the key. She placed it into another pouch before presenting the original back to him. The back end had been reshaped.


    ¡°Loop your belt through that end, this way the only way you can lose it is if you lose your pants.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn''t place bets on that.¡±


    ¡°You keep me much longer, and I wouldn''t either.¡± She leaned in suddenly, planting a light kiss on his cheek. Kurt was stunned, likely looking like a turkey drowning in the rain. ¡°I''m gonna go get lost for a while, don''t wait up, and don''t worry. I''ll let myself back in.¡± She smiled wanly at him, gliding from the room, she was as graceful as a swan. Without another word, she left and locked the door behind her.


    Shaking his head, Kurt let out a sigh, unsure what to make of it all. He moved toward the bed that would be his for the next few nights and sank onto it, his thoughts drifting. His mind wandered first to his chunky little brother, wondering how in the world he had managed to get himself into the tournament. Then, inevitably, his thoughts turned to Moder, where the bastard was, what this so-called "key" might be. Why now? Why this way? He had puzzled over it before, convinced he had grasped some understanding, but now, it all felt just out of reach.


    Dorian had to mature, and Moder could only show him so much. Furthermore, Moder had once explained that there was something in the halls of the mountain that made the Priorius mature more thoroughly. Something about an engine, making the fuel more potent. Kurt had assumed it was much the difference between burning dried Gwam to green oak. Regardless, the tournament would be the only time the Monastery mingled with the populous. Damn Dorian, why did he have to compete? Why couldn''t he have simply remained passive?


    But he knew the answer to that too, Dorian tended to surge. Even at that early age, Kurt knew Dorian could lose his head and become surprisingly bold, if not brash. Wonder where he picked that one up, eh? I should never have taught him the staff, or the spear for that matter. Little bastard, shouldn''t have shown him all my tricks.


    Kurt fell asleep, smiling to the memories of sparring with his little brother, their laughter as they played pranks on the young girls in their village, and the adventures they had exploring the ever-changing woods of the Wilds.


    Quena left the room feeling rather smug, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She knew, without a doubt, that before all was said and done, she would get what she wanted from him. And he would give it.


    She chuckled softly through her nose at the thought of labeling him. Sometimes, in her mind, she thought of him as boy. He was barely younger than she was, but this wasn¡¯t her first show. She had been through this dance before, more times than she cared to count. The gaps in years, however, left her reeling at times. The memories came in waves, slowly knitting themselves back together, all thanks to that thing Kurt called Moder.


    At first, she had been outraged. As the memories of her prior deaths surfaced, raw and unrelenting, they left her seething. The so-called Grand Elder, she scoffed at the thought. What a self-aggrandizing fiend.


    In lives past, she had knelt before him. In different bodies, she had carried out his will, committed atrocities that made her stomach twist to recall. A shiver ran up her spine as the memories came, sharp as daggers. The things she had done in the early days to cement his rule, to spread his tyranny, were nothing short of abhorrent. And what had been her reward?


    To be fed to the engine like all the others.


    This time, however, she had slipped through the cracks. It shouldn¡¯t have been possible, or so she thought. The alternative was that she no longer mattered, but that couldn¡¯t be it. Still, here she was, walking freely, existing beyond the cycle that had claimed her again and again.


    One of his agents had even confronted her, one of the countless lackeys compelled to pacify the initiates, to dull their instincts, to make them complacent. The initiates were given a place to vent their frustrations, an outlet for their rebellious nature. And when that wasn¡¯t enough, they were fed intoxicants that made their Gia bloom like weeds, primed and ripe for the taking. Then, ascension would come. And like always, it would all be returned to the valley, saturating the land, enriching the cycle of death and rebirth, feeding the reserve that had kept them all trapped for generations.


    The valley had changed, twisted by centuries of sacrifice. The land was so thick with death that even the trees had adapted, their roots drinking deep of Gia. Everything here had evolved, reshaped itself in response to the greatest and most persistent threat, mankind.


    She had glimpses of before, fractured memories that had survived each rebirth, but they were brief, disjointed, impossible to piece together into something coherent. What she did know, without question, was that she was trapped. Trapped like a caged beast, bound to this insignificant valley while an entire world lay beyond.


    Freedom.


    The open sea. Endless plains. Towering forests, sprawling cities, wonders beyond imagining. She knew it existed as surely as she knew she was alive. As surely as she knew desire. As surely as she enjoyed toying with that young man''s head.


    And she knew there had to be a way out.


    Whether this fat kid was the quickest means to an end hardly mattered. She had clawed her way through enough lifetimes to understand the path to freedom was paved with power. Power and knowledge. And she had a damn good idea where to find both.


    After setting the final rune in Bo¡¯s room, she placed the key back in the slot, the glow of the markings humming with potential. Her lips curled into a smirk as she turned away, laughter spilling from her lips, echoing back through the empty halls as she made her way to the Monastery Temple. Down to the basement. Through the hidden draw tunnel behind the false wall.


    If there was a chance to seize true power, to shatter the chains of this wretched valley for good, then she would take it.


    And damn the cost.

 Chapter 35 - Path of Lies

    Chapter ¨C 35 ¨C Announcements and Tales of the False Gods


    He was running. Running for all he was worth.


    The world blurred past in disjointed flashes, stone walls, corridors, doorways that led to nowhere. The circuit twisted, folding in on itself like a labyrinth with no end. But no matter how fast he moved, no matter how many turns he took, the white shape followed. Always there. Always pressing closer.


    "Little Dorian!"


    The voice struck like a hammer to his skull, rattling his very bones. His vision shattered, and suddenly, he wasn¡¯t in the circuit anymore.


    Metan.


    The marketplace stood before him, eerily still. The trade buildings loomed, casting shadows too deep for the midday sun. The center park stretched wide, tables lined in perfect, unnatural rows, untouched by the wind. Atop the standing platform, something waited.


    It stood shirtless, its skin too pale, too smooth, like something sculpted rather than born. Its face was wrong, almost human, but stretched, as though something far worse lurked beneath, barely holding the shape together. Its mouth twisted in an approximation of a grin. It pointed at him directly.


    "Would you stop running?" The words slithered through the silence, a whisper that carried everywhere. "Fear will consume you if you let it. The time is coming, and the call to action will be placed. Will you answer, little Dorian?"


    Dorian staggered back, his pulse roaring in his ears. "Stop antagonizing me, you monster! Leave me alone!"


    The thing laughed. A sound not meant for human throats, brittle and wet, like bones splintering under weight. "Don''t you dare cling to that happiness." The shadows moved. They stretched toward him, creeping like hungry fingers. "Docility is for the meek. Joy is for those too willing to deny the truth."


    The creature cocked its head, something shifting beneath its skin.


    "Will you let your brother die for your cowardice? Your mother? Your father?"


    Dorian sat upright, though it wasn''t fear that consumed him. Conflicting emotions passed through his mind, his body felt as though it wasn''t his own. Deep down, coiled around his heart and running through his spine, something shifted. Like stretching something long asleep it tingled momentarily before going still again. Gods, what''s happening to me? This tournament is really getting to me.


    First, he snoozed a bit. Eventually, he stirred, feeling a grumble from his stomach and an unpleasant stretching in undershorts. Focusing on the former and forgetting about the latter, he dressed himself in his ceremonial robes. They fit well enough, though it made his look extraordinarily fluffy around the edges. How was he to make a promising show of himself if he looked like a Giant brown blob? No matter, he thought as he found his boots.


    The Monastery Elders cared little about what they wore on their feet, so long as the robe covered them, nobody had to know. Much like other parts of the Monastery, they hid their stinky feet under the robes of their faith, knowing full well that the general people would never know the wiser. Dorian paused as the thought took him, then congratulated himself on an exceptional metaphor. He thought he''d have to share it with Ingrid, if not for the fact that she absolutely despised metaphors. Even better, she hated feet, said they were like little monkey paws. Dorian was a little excited to tell her but figured to save it for the right moment. Upsetting the one you love, in a teasing manner, took a certain delicacy, and Dorian had taken to it with the joy of young love.


    As he entered the hall, the chaotic white noise of the stadium almost shook him out of his boots. He was locking the door when he spotted Alexandria walking past. Despite her being a giant just a year and a half back, he now stood about an inch taller than her. His growth spurt somehow gave her a bit more grudging respect for Dorian, beyond that they both knew who the better duelist was between them.


    ¡°Hey Alex, wait up, would ya?¡± Dorian called as he took the key out of his door and secured it to the belt of his robe.


    ¡°Ya, sure. What''s up?¡± She was dressed in the same plain brown as he.


    ¡°Oh, I just woke up. Not really sure what the plan is.¡±


    ¡°You slept through this chaos? It''s been so loud out here I didn''t even try to take a nap.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you didn''t know? I think the rooms are warded from sound.¡±


    Alex rubbed her temples and forehead with one hand and wiped her face, frustration written clearly there. ¡°Damn, I should have guessed that. Makes sense, don''t want to keep us up, right?¡±


    Dorian nodded, then continued. ¡°So, what''s the plan?¡±


    She gave him a curious look then said, ¡°plan? We eat out on the balcony, proper initiates of the Path and such, and wave when they announce us. Otherwise, listen to whatever, and we go to bed. First duel starts just after sunrise, I think you''re the third match of the day.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that''s great. How''d you find that out?¡±


    ¡°I took an etching of one of the stone plates. It''s ingenious really, I''m not really sure how they did it, but they''re all linked. Carve on one, it carves the rest, here, I have a spare.¡±


    She took out a bit of paper, copied off the stone plate, whatever that was, with charcoal. Dorian''s number was six, which he still smirked at as it reminded him of the shape of his Shade.


    ¡°Oh, you didn''t hear from Brother Michael, did you?¡±


    ¡°No, I was pretty knocked out. The walk out this morning must have taken it out of me.¡±


    ¡°We are to report to the basement an hour before our bout. Before you ask, you''ll know because there will be guards there. Tell them who you are, make sure you''re wearing your vest.¡±


    Dorian nodded and followed her out to the large balcony. It could have easily seated sixty or more, but there were barely thirty people there. Brother Michael and Sister Brenda were there, eating and speaking quietly among themselves. Dorian spotted a few other elders, and Gavin who happened to have a seat open next to him. He waved Alex over, and she gave a wave as she headed that way.


    Looking around, Dorian spotted Jack, Danae, and Ingrid sitting at a table. He smiled broadly, incapable of holding it back.


    ¡°Now, would you look at that, how''d you manage to sneak in?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know. A girl has her secrets.¡± Her face was somber, but her eyes danced.


    ¡°Jack! You big beautiful man, I didn''t know you''d have access to the same balcony.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah, all I had to do was pass your name. Hope you don''t mind, I brought Danae.¡±


    ¡°No, not at all. Danae, I''m glad you could join us.¡± Dorian smiled and nodded a head at her, and she smiled but without any teeth. ¡°Too bad Benny and Ken couldn''t join us.¡± Dorian said to Jack. Spotting Ingrid''s scowl, he added, ¡°or Malik and Vinny.¡±


    ¡°I''d tell you the same, but they''ve got even better seats than we do.¡± Ingrid said, pointing up to the large balcony that seemed to extend further out and was centered to the arena. There, Dorian could make out the outline of a few of the Prime Heads, the Masters and the Grand Elder himself. A shiver went up his spine.


    Dorian sat quickly. Looking grim, he leaned in and said to Ingrid, ¡°will I have a chance to steal some of your company later?¡±


    She nodded, then added, ¡°but not for too long. I''ll have an hour or so before I have to make it back to the kiddos.¡±


    Dorian frowned, ¡°kiddos?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, they have me watching a class of eleven-year-old initiates. It''s awful.¡±


    Dorian let out a brief snort before his gaze landed on Jack, who was tenderly holding Danae¡¯s hand, his thumb tracing slow circles as he murmured soft words meant only for her. A smirk tugged at Dorian¡¯s lips. He was happy for his friend.


    With everything that had happened, with how swiftly life had been shifting, he was beginning to understand why people said it was too short to waste on anything less than happiness.


    ¡°I have two things to give you tonight,¡± Dorian said, a playful lilt in his voice. ¡°But it¡¯ll have to wait until later.¡±


    She arched a brow, lips curving ever so slightly. ¡°That¡¯s a bit forward for public, Dorian.¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°No, nothing like that.¡±


    Her expression flickered with curiosity before shifting into mock disappointment. ¡°Nothing?¡± she asked, though he caught the teasing glint in her eye.


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± he shrugged, tilting his head with an exaggerated sigh. ¡°I was told once that women make men weak in the knees. And prissy princess that I am, when I see you, I totally get it.¡±


    She rolled her eyes, but the smile that spread across her face was impossible to hide. ¡°Oh, shut up.¡±


    Dorian grinned, knowing full well he probably looked just as foolish as she did.


    Dinner was served, not as a buffet, but plated and presented with an elegance that felt almost surreal. Slow-cooked lamb rested beside a peculiar mash, its color slightly off, but the taste was exquisite.


    At first, Dorian savored it, but as he ate, an unsettling sensation crept over him. It was subtle, like the weight of unseen eyes pressing against his back. No, not watching¡­ something worse. Feeling. Probing.


    Instinct took over. He summoned some Gia within himself then switched to his Giasight. Just like that, the sensation vanished, but noted something else wrong. His gaze fell to his plate, and his stomach turned.


    Little black worms squirmed through the mash, writhing in slow, unnatural movements. He clenched his jaw against the rise of bile, forcing himself to remain still. His mind worked quickly. Shade, or Kraken, either way something had tainted the meal.


    On a hunch, he sent a pulse of Gia through the stone table, letting it reach his plate. The wriggling threads of blackness recoiled, then dissolved, absorbed by the light of his energy.


    Suppressing a sigh, he reached beneath the table, resting a hand on Ingrid¡¯s leg. Through the bracelet¡¯s link, he sent a quiet message. "Don¡¯t react. The food has been tampered with. I¡¯ll cleanse it, just stay still and don¡¯t move too quickly."


    Her eyes widened, emotions flooding the bond. Fear. Confusion. Outrage. Disgust. Then, something steadier hope, trust.


    Still, she didn''t resist when he channeled Gia into her. Normally, that level of direct infusion was an intimate act, personal and deliberate. Dorian¡¯s fears instilled the notion that there was no time for hesitation. He swept through her system, hunting for the taint, feeling the tendrils of blackness clinging within. One by one, he purged them.


    A shudder ran through her, followed by relief so profound he felt it through the bond. He let go, cutting the link before they both started blushing.


    Ingrid exhaled, slightly flushed, her breath just a little unsteady. Then, in the quietest whisper, she murmured, ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No, thank you.¡± He waggled his eyebrows at her and she punched his leg under the table. The following eye roll didn¡¯t offend him, instead he simply appreciated the attention it drew to her eyes.


    Clearing his throat, Dorian called across the table. ¡°Jack, remember a month back when I showed you how to make the light show?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, what was that, Dorian?¡± He looked a bit confused, wondering over the indigestion.


    ¡°You know, the code, light show.¡± He emphasized this last bit and Jack caught on.


    Dorian stood, but kept low as to not make a disturbance. Whatever was going on with the food, two initiates gripping Gia openly would cause a stir. He whispered what to do in Jack''s ear, close enough that Danae could hear. Dorian looked around, and thought he sensed others doing the same. He had an odd feeling that several around him could grip their source, and were doing so actively. Brother Michael and Sister Brenda had undoubtedly already figured it out, though, Dorian wasn''t sure what they would or could do about it.


    Suddenly, horns began to bellow and Dorian had to scurry over to get to his chair.


    Kurt was delighted with the food, if a bit lonely. His mother had woken him abruptly about an hour prior, forced him to dress in these ridiculous robes, and hauled him out to this balcony. It was huge and was one of four that ran parallel to each other. The only one larger was a center podium that rested above everyone, it loomed over the entirety of the Colosseum. Abruptly, horns started up so loud he nearly launched his dinner down to the Colosseum floor.


    That''s when some hoodoo kicked up. Kurt was becoming more sensitive to its presence.  There were these large square flat structures that pointed down into the arena, and when that feeling kicked in so did the structures. On each one, a faded image appeared. A pale man with shoulder length black hair stood, and the image appeared on each of the four plates. It was clearer the lower it was, the clearest portion being the tan coloring of the arena soil. Looking down, a small pinprick was visible from where he sat, just an outline. Looking back at the plates, he watched and listened as the man''s voice was heard as though he was seated directly next to Kurt.


    ¡°To all present and attending, we of the Monastery bid you welcome.¡± A pause and some of the onlookers cheered. ¡°Our patron, our leader, the grandest on high and closest to the Gods has bid you all to join him in this celebration, to bid him farewell as he ascends to meet the Gods.¡± Another cheer, though this one more prominent. To Kurt''s own surprise, he found himself cheering as well.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°In honor of this rare occurrence, he has asked the entirety of the valley to be present as we send him off properly. To his request, and thus requested by the Gods, we are to stand witness to three days of competition and games.¡± Now, there was thunderous applause that seemed to shake the Colosseum itself.


    ¡°As he has stated, three days shall be witnessed. The annual Quarterstaff Tournament has been consolidated into the games, as such, we have decided to bare witness to that tournament as the main event. May I present to you, your champions.¡±


    The cheering was so loud now that Kurt could feel it in his bones. A sudden light appeared beneath himself. Frowning, he looked up to see the image displayed to the arena of all the other combatants. They were all standing, their image displayed clearly above on the plates. A bit late to the party, Kurt stood for everyone to see him. He wondered if he had food on his robe, then decided it didn''t really matter. What was done was done.


    "To heighten the appreciation of contest for the patrons present, the Grand Elder has issued a new decree, altering the very fabric of the quarterstaff competition. As this change marks a departure from tradition, any current combatant may withdraw and accept the Grand Elder¡¯s blessing without dishonor."


    A hush fell over the crowd, so absolute that Kurt could hear the faint buzz of a fly somewhere in the distance.


    "The new ruling for quarterstaff combat is as follows: There will be no scoring system. No appeals. No technical victories. The match will be decided by a single truth¡ªwho remains standing, who forces their opponent¡¯s concession, or who survives. Furthermore, each quarterstaff shall now be affixed with a metal cap at one end and a sharpened point at the other. If any contestant wishes to withdraw under these new terms, speak now, or be bound by the contest ahead."*


    Not a word was said, and no contestant on the boards moved.


    "Then it shall be so. Between matches, we have several other competitions, including archery, javelin throw, the hammer toss, and the one, two, and four hundred meter sprints. The rulings for those contests remain unchanged. These events will commence on the second day of the games. The first day, however, belongs solely to the duelists.¡± The green lights winked out, the boards above once again displaying the man in black robes.


    Kurt sat back down, tension coiling in his chest. His favorite sport, something he had trained for, something that once felt like an art, had just been twisted into a spectacle of brutality. A display of barbarism. He should have been furious. He was furious. And yet...


    A strange warmth spread through him, as if something in his chest had settled into place. The thought of fighting to the death no longer sat as horribly in his mind as it had a moment ago. In fact, the more he turned it over, the more right it felt. There''s something wrong in that.


    His fingers flexed, feeling for the weight of a weapon that wasn¡¯t there. His pulse drummed steadily against his ears, and his mind whispered in the smallest voice, one he might have ignored had he not already sensed the foul play at work. This isn¡¯t me, these aren¡¯t my feelings.


    ¡°Now, it is my great honor to present to you the architect of this beautiful Colosseum, and of this celebration. To all present, the Grand Elder of the Path.¡±


    There was applause like thunder echoing back and forth across the arena. Kurt''s drink shook, and he had to catch it before it tipped over.


    The man now displayed was old, old in a way that made your general old person look like a ten year old. The man was pruned beyond belief, his robes sagging underneath his gaunt face. Despite his old appearance, his voice echoed with a resonance that demanded attention. Enthralled, Kurt clung to every word.


    ¡°I wish to share with you a tale, a truth whispered to me by the Gods themselves. A story from the time before the Path was known, when men still fumbled in the dark, clinging to the ignorance of their own mortality. A time when the hand of the divine was so light upon the world that its presence could scarcely be felt, and yet, even then, the wisest among us knew it was there.¡±


    ¡°In those early days, when the world was still young, there were those blessed with the gift of sight, those who could hear the voices beyond the veil. Their burden was heavy, for the faithless mocked them, and the blind sought to silence them. The truth of the Path was not yet known, and so the world was filled with doubt. But there was one man, one prophet, who stood above the rest. He alone could see the path with perfect clarity, hear the divine voices as I do now.¡±


    ¡°This man, chosen by the Gods, walked among the people and spread their word. His power grew, as did his following, for those who heard the truth could not deny it. And as his strength grew, so too did the gods¡¯ favor, for it was their will that all mankind should know the Path. Those who embraced it were enlightened. Those who refused¡­¡±


    ¡°The sword is merciful.¡±


    ¡°And so, the prophet carried the will of the divine across the world, bringing light to the heathen lands. He crossed vast mountains and endless deserts, traversed waters so deep that even the greatest peaks would be swallowed whole. He gave the ignorant a choice¡ªto step into the light or be cleansed by the fire of truth. And where his voice could not reach, his warriors carried his message in steel and flame.¡±


    ¡°Thus, the Path spread, unchallenged, until the day it reached the Tyrants.¡±


    ¡°Ah, the Tyrants¡­¡±


    ¡°Men who ruled not by the will of the gods, but by the shackles they placed upon their own people. Men who thought themselves mighty, who built their little walled cities and believed that stone and steel could make them equal to the divine. The prophet sent emissaries to them, bearing the truth with outstretched hands, offering them salvation. And how did they answer?¡±


    ¡°With slaughter.¡±


    ¡°They butchered our messengers, cutting them down in the streets like beasts. They turned their backs upon the divine and declared themselves beyond the reach of the gods. Such blasphemy could not stand. Our prophet was patient¡ªhe knew that even the most stubborn minds could be turned. And so, with all his people, he crossed the waters to meet these Tyrants upon their own land, to teach them the folly of their defiance.¡±


    ¡°But they were cowards, as all tyrants are. They did not meet him with honor. They did not speak, nor did they listen. They hid, behind their walls, behind their mountains, behind their illusions of strength.¡±


    ¡°And when our people set foot upon their shores, the Tyrant King and his warriors descended like vermin from the cliffs. There, upon the narrowest stretch of land, they struck without mercy. With every breath, they stole the future of the Path. With every strike, they slew those who would have carried the light into the world before it was too late. They grinned as they did it, reveling in their wickedness, defying the will of the divine.¡±


    ¡°But our prophet did not waver. The righteous do not waver. He sent his warriors to teach them the error of their ways, to show them the mercy of the blade. But the Tyrant and his three hundred butchers had steeped themselves so deeply in falsehoods, in the lies of their ancestors, that they fought like demons. They threw themselves against the tide of truth, howling, shrieking, clinging to their defiance with a madness that knew no end. And still, they fell. By the hundreds, by the thousands, they fell. But even as they lay broken, they refused to bend the knee.¡±


    ¡°The gods wept for them, even as they died, for the light had been offered, and they had turned away.¡±


    ¡°For days, the battle raged. The faithful died, their blood soaking the sand, but the Tyrant did not yield. He laughed in the face of divinity. He spat upon the Path. He thought himself untouchable.¡±


    ¡°And then, salvation came from within.¡±


    ¡°A man of their own, one who had seen the light, one who understood that the Path could not be denied. He gave our prophet the key, showed him the way forward. And so, while the Tyrants spent their last breath fighting upon the beach, the prophet sent his faithful through the mountains. The fools did not even realize they had been undone. Not until it was too late.¡±


    ¡°Surrounded, stripped of their false might, the Tyrant and his butchers fell. The people of the land, those who had once followed him, demanded retribution. They saw, at last, the truth of what he had cost them. And so the Gods granted them their vengeance.¡±


    ¡°The Tyrant King died last, as was fitting for such a wicked soul. But even in his final moments, he would not speak the truth. He did not kneel. He did not see the light. And so he passed, his name forever cursed. Leonidas.¡±


    ¡°A name spat from the tongues of the divine, a name that will never be spoken in reverence. The Gods still weep for all that one man prevented. They weep for the countless souls denied the Path. They weep for his blindness, for the darkness that he chose over the light.¡±


    ¡°But the Path endures. It is endless, and it is inevitable. What is denied in one age will rise in the next. And though the Tyrant is gone, though his people may still grasp at their hollow defiance, the truth cannot be buried forever.¡±


    ¡°The Gods have willed it.¡±


    Dorian was staring openly as the older man left the podium. The reflecting Technum cut out as he left, leaving a stunned a quiet crowd. Master Flint came back for a time and spoke a few other words about the Path, but none of it was sinking in. The crowd did catch that all people would be fed freely, and that no cup would run dry for the duration of the tournament. Such a lavish expense was completely unheard of, and even if Dorian had a sinking feeling in his gut, he was happy to know that all would sleep with full bellies for the next few days. Even if it was tainted, it had to be better than nothing.


    After Master Flint finished his dreary speech, the entire Colosseum resumed their meal. Dorian leaned in to whisper to Ingrid. ¡°Want to get out of here? Lights out isn''t long off, and I want to have a word before it gets late.¡± She nodded, and they excused themselves from the table. Jack didn''t pay much mind as he was heavily invested in to inspecting Danae''s eyes, so Dorian snagged Ingrid by the hand and led her back to his rooms.


    Upon entering, he kicked his boots off before heading in to the other room to change out of the awful robes he was required to wear. As he did so, he also looked for the two gifts he had intended to give her. Both were rather pricey, but he hadn''t actually spent the coin, simply instructed Vinny what he wanted and like magic the man would have it in a few days. She called from the other room, ¡°I hope you intend on returning clad, any other attire will be deemed unfit for wear.¡± She said it jokingly, though there was a touch of trepidation in her voice.


    ¡°You know me, always ready to disappoint.¡±


    ¡°Oh, bugger all.¡± She said flippantly.


    Dorian finished dressing and pocketed both of the gifts. She was seated on a fine couch, it was big enough to fit four. Dorian didn''t like it, mostly because it was so deep you could get lost in it. Why make a couch? It was basically a cot anyways. Sighing, he came by and sat next to her.


    ¡°Ingrid, there''s something I wanted to talk to you about before tomorrow.¡±


    She grimaced for a moment and took the silence as a chance to voice her concerns. ¡°Dorian, I wouldn''t blame you if you still backed out. The new rules, or lack there of rules... It''s barbaric. Dorian, I don''t want to see you get hurt.¡±


    Dorian tilted his head, assessing her. He smiled, as the thought hadn''t even occurred to him. Shaking his head softly and still smiling, he said, ¡°no, nothing about that. Don''t worry, I''m not down and out yet, but I have a gift to give you. Two gifts technically, though one requires a promise.¡±


    She glared at him for a moment, ¡°you''re not trying to extort me, are you? I''ll have you know, I''m not the kind of girl to be bought out.¡±


    Dorian rolled his eyes, ¡°oh just shut up. Here''s the first one, which is an apology for the second one.¡±


    As Dorian handed it to her she asked, ¡°why is it an apology?¡±


    ¡°Because it is, now just open it.¡±


    Exacerbated, she opened it meticulously. Dorian never understood why people did that, it was such an odd behavior. It was wrapping paper, just shred and go? No, instead she unraveled it with twice the slow precision Dorian had used wrapping it. He kept his peace, but it was a near thing.


    Opening the small box, she saw what was inside.


    ¡°You got me a Diamond?¡± She said, a bit confused.


    ¡°Look at it with Gia.¡±


    Her eyes widened, and she lifted the box to get a closer view. Dorian knew what was there, as small as he could manage, he had inscribed it with Technum. It was the simplest thing one could create really, an emotional rune, but instead of a generalized emotion, he had tuned it. Tuned it to express to the one touching it what Dorian felt as he had kissed her earlier that morning. Along with it, a small obsidian chunk, he assumed she would simply fix it up herself.


    She held the diamond gingerly and sent a small bit of Gia through it. The feeling brushed her as Dorian had opened the link on his bracelet. She felt that feeling, that something that he wanted her to know. Really, it was what he wanted her to remember him by if he won, or even if he hadn''t.


    Her eyes were watering, and he went ahead and ruined it by opening his fat trap. ¡°Listen, I know I''m not anyone''s dream partner, I''m a bit hansom if you dig below the extra bits, but otherwise I don''t really strike the greatest figure. The thing is, I know I''m likely a three or a four to most people, but the one thing I''m really good at, I think, is loving with my whole heart. That''s all I can offer, and even if I get hurt, I want you to always have the best of me.¡± She took the obsidian chunk and shaped it around the diamond so only the barest bit of the diamond poked through, facing inward. The rest she shaped in to a thin glinting band that she affixed to her right ring finger. By the time she finished that, Dorian had stopped talking.


    She was silent, and Dorian about stirred off the couch and started pacing. He kept himself though it was a struggle. She was staring, big blue eyes the shade of sky on a cloudless day, then those eyes were watering.


    ¡°Oh, I''m-¡±


    ¡°Shut. Up.¡±


    She kissed him. It was a deep kiss, a passionate kiss. Then the kiss kept on, which seemed to lock the stupid into his brain. Then she kept going, and before he knew it, she was kissing him with all the ferocity she generally brought in to the ring. Dorian was a bit scared at first, even if she was less than half his weight, she had a spirit that one could only compare to a twister. Then, he melted, matched, and caught her up in his arms.


    Some time later, they had lost themselves staring deep into each other''s eyes. It was the kind of wonder that only young lovers knew, and Dorian considered himself blessed by all the Gods to know such a thing. He still didn''t think to much of himself, excepting his appetite, but he was glad he could make this one person happy.


    She smiled slowly to him and asked, ¡°what?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Oh, nothing. Wondering if there was anything in the world that could drag me from such a spectacular view.¡±


    ¡°Oh, stop.¡± She grinned, snuggling herself in closer to him. ¡°Oh, what was the other gift?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that.¡± Dorian said, but he was sure his face said much more.


    ¡°What''s wrong, honey?¡±


    ¡°Honey?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°You''re the one with honey in your hair, the only sweet I carry is that of onions.¡± He smiled mirthfully.


    ¡°Really, Dorian, what''s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Look, the second gift, it''s not for opening. Not yet anyways, that''s the catch.¡±


    She looked him over for a long moment, the bliss of the moment prior slipping away like water on ice.


    ¡°So, when do I open it?¡± It didn''t sound like a question.


    ¡°If. You only open it if I get hurt, and if I''m able, you''ll open it with me there.¡±


    ¡°Dorian, I don''t really-¡±


    ¡°Please. Ingrid, please, if everything goes as it should it''s of no concern and I''ll burn the damn thing. But, if it doesn''t...¡± He tapered off, not wanting to consider.


    The lights in his room blinked out momentarily before coming back on.


    ¡°Oh, shit! I''m late, Dorian, where''s my-¡±


    The following forty-five seconds passed in a blur of cloths, swift words, and even swifter kisses. Before a single minute was up, he was breathless and sadly watching her go. Idly, he watched her walk away with a bemused thought about her backside. You''re a lech, you know?


    Shaking his head, he returned to his lonely bed and missed his better half. He turned his bracelet on, just wanting to know she was there, but turned it back off swiftly as he didn''t want to pry. It was then that the lights kicked out. It was much longer before he slept, but when he did it wasn''t with thoughts of the oncoming match or all that he had on the line. It was of her sweet smile, her beautiful eyes, and that wretched wretched laugh that he''d grown so fond of.


    Kurt finished dinner in fine order that night, eating enough for three. Bo gave him dirty looks all throughout, but Kurt simply couldn''t be phased. He idly hoped that he''d have a chance to fight that smug son of a bitch, but he guessed they wouldn''t even be in the same cluster of brackets.


    Then he thought about the likelihood of Bo making it to the semifinals. He wasn''t half bad, if Kurt were being honest, though he was quick, his movements weren''t nearly as solid as Kurt''s own. Any twelve-year-old with a stick could see that. Still, he found himself grinning at the thought of exacting his little brother''s revenge against the twisted bastard in the semifinals or even pre-semifinals. Just so long as the names were carried into the bout, Kurt could be happy. Damn those Smiths and damn the elders for allowing him to compete to begin with.


    Kurt had these thoughts as he lay in his bed, waiting for Quena to show. A knock at the door had him up in a flash.


    As he opened the door, he said, ¡°Why didn''t you jus-¡± he stumbled as he realized who it was. ¡°Mom! How are you, did you enjoy the dinner?¡±


    The flat stare his mother gave him could melt rock. Kurt didn''t wither... well he didn''t wither visibly. His insides were basically mush though.


    ¡°Expecting someone?¡±


    ¡°No, not really. Come in.¡±


    His mother came in, still glaring though it wasn''t as intense as it was at first. ¡°I saw him, Kurtis.¡± She said as the door came to a close.


    ¡°You what?¡±


    ¡°I saw him, he''s there. And behind him.¡± Her voice caught a little at the end. ¡°I''m sure she saw me too.¡± Her eyes were pooling, which made Kurt feel awful for no other reason than he didn''t want to see his mother crying. He came to her and held her until her weeping subsided. It wasn''t long, she never lost her composure long, and Kurt was glad to be there for her if only as the support to hold her upright.


    ¡°Who''d you see, mom?¡±


    Taking a deep breath, she said, ¡°I saw your brother, he''s got your father''s body with so much of my father''s face, I thought I was seeing a ghost for a moment. And behind him, I saw,¡± another deep breath, ¡°my sister.¡±


    Surprise shone on Kurt''s face. Gods, what a night to be had.


    ¡°It''s okay, I''ll be fine. I just hope-¡± a knock at the door interrupted what she was about to say.


    Rita''s stature shifted so quickly to hostile that Kurt looked about the room for something to defend himself with. Coming to the door, he opened it to see one of his mother''s lackeys.


    ¡°I''m sorry to interrupt, but Madam Hunt, I think you and your son are needed in your chambers.¡±


    A loud clang, and some yelling echoed from down the hall. That voice sounded so familiar, it drew Kurt like a moth to flame.


    The muffled shouting quadrupled in volume as two people ran out of his mother''s chambers, scurrying away with the fear of the Gods written plainly on their faces.


    ¡°And stay out you wretched bastards. I''m no Gods damned invalid.¡± The sound of deep mumbles echoed down the hall, until, with an uproar, someone''s head came from around the corner.


    ¡°You there, boy! Yes you, can you grab the two who just left. They seemed to have left me without any pants.¡±


    ¡°Dad?¡± Kurt said, stunned.

 Chapter 36 - Bloodsong of the Colosseum

    ¡°Fuck you and your happy little life, you will remember what you are, Dorian.¡±


    The voice cracked through the void, sharp as a whip, searing into his skull like white-hot iron.


    ¡°I know what I am,¡± Dorian snarled. ¡°I¡¯m the next champion of the valley, and you won¡¯t stop me!¡±


    They clashed. Power cracked like thunder between them, each strike rippling through the darkness. Dorian flung bolt after bolt into the shifting mass of his enemy, watching them vanish on impact. No matter how many times he struck, the creature wouldn¡¯t fall.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just leave me alone?¡± He roared, desperation bleeding into his voice.


    A wordless cry ripped from his throat as he unleashed everything he had. His Shade erupted in a spiral, a force of raw will slashing through the void. But the beast was already gone.


    And then, laughter. A sound that didn¡¯t belong. It echoed, stretched, crawled beneath his skin.


    Dorian¡¯s breath hitched. His Shade coiled around him instinctively. He released.


    Dorian woke to his bed collapsing. He hadn''t gripped his Shade as tightly as he had in his dream, but he had erupted in about a three foot circumference around himself, destroying his beautiful bed.


    He groaned as he looked over the mess. It was completely destroyed, and no matter what he could do he couldn''t work wood unless it was living.


    Sighing, he found his vest with the numeral on it, and got dressed. He was rinsing his mouth out with saltwater when a knock came at the door.


    ¡°Um- Sir?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± Dorian replied as he came out of the washroom.


    ¡°I''ve brought you breakfast, your match isn''t too far off so we took the liberty, to uh...¡±


    Raising a brow, Dorian asked, ¡°what is it man?¡± The boy carrying the tray of food wasn''t really a man, but Dorian liked to think that subtle compliments like that might help salve the boy''s pride. The Gods know being a runner like that wasn''t doing him any favors.


    ¡°It''s just, uh, your bed.¡± He said as he placed the tray down on a counter near the door.


    Dorian rubbed the back of his head. ¡°You see, I. Well. These Gwendian woman, and well the Kressian one''s too. I was hoping to speak with someone about the state of my bed, simply put, I''m not used to bedding being so¡± he coughed in to his hand, ¡°fragile.¡±


    The boys eyes were wider than the plates he had brought, meanwhile Dorian did his best to hide his grin. ¡°Would you be willing to send someone in to do something about it? Or contact someone who can?¡±


    ¡°I, uh, yes sir.¡±


    Dorian rummaged about until he had found his bag of Vega tokens. He tossed him a full token, not a chip, and said, ¡°that''s a good man. Thank you for the food, I''d better.¡± He gestured to the plate of steaming sausages, eggs, and some kind of flatbread.


    ¡°Oh, yes sir, and thank you sir.¡± Before the man left, Dorian asked his name, to which he replied, ¡°Basil, sir, spelled like the plant but pronounced like a person.¡± Dorian thanked Basil once more and the young man nodded his head one too many times before he scurried out of the room. Dorian had a good laugh after the door shut. Gods, if only life were always so good.


    He smiled broadly as he ate, up to the point he worried it might slow him down in his match. He was scared, someone else with a pointed quarterstaff and someone that knew how to use it was a terrifying notion. There had been many times he had traded blows so long as he had the better of it in points, and as techniques go, one generally didn''t think before they acted. He''d ingrained those things into his technique, and he knew it would take conscious effort to keep from those kinds of exchanges. A mistake could cost him his life.


    Dressed, and ready as he would ever be, he made his way out to the balcony just in time to catch the commencement.


    A much more animated announcer was displayed on the large flat planes above the Colosseum, Master Flint likely losing his spot considering his less than animated announcements the night prior.


    ¡°To this day, we salute and celebrate those brave warriors representing the four corners of the valley!¡±


    The crowd cheered, but Dorian didn''t really care for it. Hadn''t the entirety of the Monastery been snatched away from the rest?


    ¡°To the east!¡± The balcony that had the Gwendians on it lit up a light green and their image shone above. ¡°We have those representing the mighty, the pure, and the righteous! Gwendos'' own, we show you your champions!¡±


    There were a few there that were sizable, roughly half male and half female, but they all seemed radiant if not well fed.


    ¡°To the west, we have Kressor''s own, they who represent duty, loyalty, and pride in their competition. Kresson gifts us with their champions!¡±


    All of them, man or woman, were broad as barrels. They had darker skin, far more tan than Dorian could ever be, with dark eyes and black hair. For all that, they had stumpy little legs. Dorian caught himself chuckling lightly, but stopped as he knew it was inappropriate.


    ¡°Next, those who dare temp the dauntless perils of the Wilds, those that stand for life and light. When man first called out in words, when we found fire, from this is where we claim heritage. For the fight for life as we find the Path, Metae''s own, Metan presents their champions!¡±


    There were only three, two tall and one squat. The taller boys were just that, boys, but the shorter one seemed a bit older. The other two, however, something seemed to tickle at the back of his mind...


    ¡°And, to our host we graciously thank for our northern most combatants. Hailing from the Monastery Mountain, from the initiates to the Way of the Path, we present, you the people, our finest champions!¡±


    Kurt watched, eyes narrowing, and this time, there was no doubt. His little brother stood like a mountain.


    The boy he had last seen, soft, rounded, barely grown into his own limbs, was gone. In his place stood a man, broad-shouldered and solid, with a presence that made Kurt¡¯s stomach sink. His face had sharpened, the faintest shadow of stubble lining his jaw, though Kurt could still see their mother in him. Except for that chin. That chin was pure Cook.


    His hair was cropped close at the sides, the rest pulled back into a short tail. But it was his sheer size that caught Kurt off guard. He was thick, powerful, not the chubby little thing Kurt had once tousled on the head, but a wall of muscle. Kurt swallowed. Hard.


    Several years had obviously passed for Dorian, but for Kurt it hadn¡¯t even been 2. And now, somehow, he stood there eying his brother from across the Colosseum. The thought came unbidden: I might have to fight him.


    He forced a breath through his nose, reassuring himself. Nobody that size moves fast. Not fast enough, anyway. He had that, at least.


    Still, Dorian¡¯s baby fat had burned away, leaving only a lingering fullness in his frame, nothing like the docile, round-cheeked boy Kurt had known. Holy hell, not what I expected. Kurt had known this moment would come, but nothing had prepared him for this. He cursed himself thoroughly for having shown so much to Dorian. He''d never have guessed it would come to this.


    ¡°For our first match of the day, we have a match of old. Directly out of the book of the Path, Gwendon and Kresson fight. Blessed be the blood that stains this ground, for it shall bring our redemption.¡±


    Kurt gave a mental scoff at the notion of those words. He was truly beginning to hate ¡°The Path¡± and everything it represented. His insides churned, and he was ready to have this all done. The display, the bullshit, the spectacle of it all. He wanted to get his brother the hell out of here, make him whole, and bring fury to the old bastard that now sat above them all.


    On the other hand, Kurt had his father back... in a way. The man last night was his father, though he didn''t really know anyone. A few hours after that, he grew quiet, that morning he was being led by the hand once more. It was so odd, but Kurt could swear the man was doing better again.


    As Kurt watched, Rand looked all around the stadium. It wasn''t the placid look he usually wore, but the kind a child gives to the world. Then a sudden sternness came onto his face. He stood.


    Kurt bounded over with a quickness. ¡°Whoa now, maybe we should just sit down for a sec there, Da.¡±


    ¡°Da? I''m not your father, boy. I''m off to win my next match. Where''s my stave.¡± Rand was looking around until he locked eyes with Rita.


    His brows shot up and he smiled a smile that Kurt never wanted to see again. No child should ever see their parent with that kind of look on their face. No. Not ever.


    ¡°Why, hello miss. What''s your name?¡±


    Kurt''s mother was blushing furiously, and Kurt simply couldn''t take it.


    ¡°Okay, I''m out.¡±


    ¡°Oh, son, ju-¡± Rita said before Kurt cut in.


    ¡°Oh, nothing. No, nope, not happening. Goodbye.¡±


    As Kurt trudged away, he heard his father say to his mother, ¡°what''s got that one''s nip in a twist?¡±


    Kurt idled about his room, knowing full well it would be some time before his first bout of the day. This was the rough part, his match would be the thirteenth of the day which meant a fair portion of waiting. His nerves weren''t necessarily up, he had been in a hundred bouts and used his staff to protect his own life more than once. It was the waiting. It drove him half mad for how it left him feeling.


    The problem was, if he were to do anything of interest, he knew he was just doing it to pass the time. Being aware that it was his intent to pass the time made him more attentive to it, which was the Gods'' finest joke as the more one wanted time to pass the slower it went.


    Frustrated, and displeased with how bored he was, he simply gave way and decided that he could ignore his parents. Besides, they deserved a little bit of happiness, didn''t they? After all, they were people too, and if his father wanted to put the moves on his mother, fine. He just hoped they wouldn''t be too ¡°them¡± about it.


    Upon returning to the balcony, however, his parents were missing. After asking a few people, the ones not busy ignoring his existence, he was pointed at a set of stairs that led down from the balcony. Just below, in a small nook, his parents were dining privately. The person, one of those serving the notables that shared his balcony, expressed the need for privacy between the couple as she was the village head. Not surprisingly, Rand''s condition wasn''t something they could hide, and since it had begun fluctuating others had taken note. As to not disturb the rest of the panjandrums the couple had stolen away. Kurt smiled to himself, glad his father was doing better.


    Climbing the stairs, Kurt nearly bumped into a priest in black robes, his presence as lifeless as his expression. The same dreary bastard who had done the announcements the night before. The kind of man who probably drank soup without seasoning.


    Kurt smirked and said, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go down there if I were you.¡±


    The boring man paused mid-step, eyes narrowing as he looked Kurt over. ¡°It is a good thing you are not me, then.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on now, buddy. Unless you¡¯re looking for an impromptu lesson in human anatomy, I¡¯d give them some space. The only occupied stall down there is very, very busy.¡± Kurt leaned slightly into his stance, casually blocking the man¡¯s path.


    His voice remained as flat as old parchment. ¡°I am the authority on human anatomy. Step aside, or I will call the guard.¡±


    Kurt didn¡¯t budge. ¡°Not you, nor Gwendos himself, could make me move right now. My parents demand privacy. And if you-¡±


    The monk¡¯s brow furrowed, something in his posture stiffening. ¡°Your parents?¡±


    Kurt didn¡¯t like the way he said that. The bastard looked at him as if he¡¯d just stumbled onto something valuable, like a man who had been looking for a missing puzzle piece and just found it in the dirt.


    The priest folded his hands behind his back. ¡°Come with me. I have questions.¡±


    Kurt exhaled, rolling his neck. ¡°Deal. But you¡¯re buying lunch.¡±


    For the first time, Flint¡¯s expression actually changed, just a flicker, the ghost of a twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if some deeply buried part of him was confused by Kurt¡¯s sheer audacity.


    It was a reaction Kurt immediately committed to memory. A man like Flint probably hadn¡¯t been caught off guard in years. Maybe decades. He was exactly the kind of stiff-necked, joyless bastard that made excellent entertainment if you knew how to poke him just right.


    Unfortunately, the Gods weren¡¯t feeling generous today, because instead of having this conversation on the balcony where he could keep an eye on the matches, they were heading toward the temple-medical-area.


    He sighed through his nose. Great. Just what I wanted, an interrogation with a living scarecrow.


    The temple smelled of burned incense, old parchment, and the lingering iron bite of antiseptic. Kurt noted the sculptures lining the entrance and snapped his fingers in recognition. ¡°Oh, yeah, I saw this place on my way to check in.¡±


    Flint didn¡¯t respond. Didn¡¯t even glance back. He just moved smoothly through the room, his presence as commanding as it was unwelcoming. Eventually, he gestured toward a stone bench, expecting Kurt to sit. Kurt didn¡¯t.


    Flint barely sighed. ¡°I would like for you to express to me your father¡¯s condition, specifically, prior to coming to the arena.¡±


    Kurt crossed his arms, leaning against a nearby pillar instead. ¡°Oh, come on, don¡¯t be like that. We just met, and already you¡¯re grilling me? At least buy me dinner first.¡±


    The priest gave him a look so devoid of amusement it could have been carved out of granite. ¡°Your father¡¯s condition. Prior. To. The. Arena.¡±


    Kurt let out a slow, deeply exaggerated sigh. ¡°Fine. But I expect you to laugh at one of my jokes before we¡¯re done here.¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°Not even a chuckle? Gods, man, you are a tough audience.¡±


    The man¡¯s voice was hollow, dead-sounding. Like the Gods had taken his soul and left the shell behind.


    Kurt shifted, grinning despite himself. ¡°Alright, sure, but before I spill my family secrets, I¡¯d like to know a little about you.¡± He paused, waiting. Nothing. Not even a flicker of amusement. Not even a blink. Fine. Time to turn up the heat.


    ¡°I have a serious affinity for dark meats, I love attending festivals, and moonlight strolls are a must. Foreplay? Not so much.¡± He smirked. ¡°There. Now you try.¡±


    The priest just stared.


    Finally, he spoke, his expression not changing in the slightest. ¡°I am Master Flint, head priest to those gifted in the healing arts.¡±


    Kurt exhaled sharply. ¡°Well. That explains a lot.¡±


    He let the joke linger in the air before continuing, ¡°Sure. My father, Rand Cook, has been an invalid for the last half-year or so.¡±


    Without so much as a nod, Flint produced a charcoal pencil and parchment seemingly out of thin air and started writing.


    ¡°Define invalid.¡±


    Kurt cocked an eyebrow. ¡°Uh¡­ well.¡± He rubbed his jaw, thinking. ¡°He stares blankly most days. Doesn¡¯t respond to much of anything. He listens when you tell him to do something, for the most part, but when you look into his eyes? It¡¯s like there¡¯s nothing there. Not unlike what I¡¯m exp-¡±


    ¡°When he listens, how specific can your instructions be?¡±


    Kurt¡¯s brow twitched. He didn¡¯t like being interrupted. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t trust him to run ledgers, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. But if you tell him to fetch water and wash himself, he does exactly that.¡±


    Flint made another sharp mark on his parchment. ¡°Hmm.¡±


    A pause.


    ¡°Do you know what caused this initially?¡±


    Kurt¡¯s stomach tightened. He shrugged, lying through his teeth. ¡°Not really. He went off to the woods when the plague hit Metan. We thought the Kressians were harrying us, so my father took it upon himself to do something about it. When he came back, he was¡­ like that.¡± He exhaled. ¡°Sometimes I¡¯d catch a glimmer of him in there. Or I¡¯d see him watching me train, like he recognized something. But otherwise-¡±


    ¡°Has he always shown interest in the quarterstaff?¡±


    Kurt squinted. ¡°Have you been living under a rock? Oh, wait.¡± He snorted. ¡°Yeah, he made it to the semifinals in a tournament about twenty years ago. Lost to my mother.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Flint jotted something down, then lifted his gaze once more. ¡°Your name?¡±


    ¡°Kurt Hunt.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Flint tucked his parchment away. ¡°You may go.¡±


    Kurt crossed his arms. ¡°That it? You leaving them alone?¡±


    Flint glanced toward the stairs. ¡°For today. But before the tournament ends, I will require their attention.¡± His tone made it clear this was not a request.


    Kurt narrowed his eyes. ¡°Perhaps.¡± Kurt figured he¡¯d try out this asshole¡¯s language tact, maybe he¡¯d actually get his point across.


    He turned to leave, then paused.


    ¡°Wait. No lunch?¡±


    Flint¡¯s flat, unimpressed stare was so strong it could have turned wine into vinegar.


    Kurt grinned as he took the stairs two at a time, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the conversation. He¡¯d had enough questions for one day.


    The tournament would play out as it would, and if the Gods had any say, his father would live to see another sunrise. For now, that was enough.


    Somewhere beyond the arena walls, a drum pounded. A slow and steady rhythm, keeping in time with the matches below.


    All Dorian heard was the sound of his own breath, the crowd¡¯s distant roar now a dull, meaningless murmur. Dorian sat on the bench near the arena entrance, nerve wracked but excited. He could hear the crowd cheering for blood just before they quieted for the next exchange of blows. Deep breaths, Dorian, deep breaths.


    Dorian knew that he wasn''t worth a twisted tit in a match if his blood wasn''t up. Over the last year and change he''d managed to figure a way to keep his mind in the right head space to fight. He was always slow to anger, but when he got there, his mind would clear of all his unending banter and go to a place without thought. Only deed mattered in that space, and that''s where he needed to be.


    It had taken time to figure out the trick of it. Focusing wholly on his breathing was always the first step. The steady pull of air, the measured release, those were his only concerns. It stripped away his distractions, his doubts, his past mistakes, until all that remained was the present moment.


    He was doing that now, forcing himself to breathe, but despite all his practice, his hands still shook as they gripped his staff. The weapon was battered, his lucky staff, the steel cap on one end adding weight, the pointed cone on the other keeping it mostly balanced. The helm he wore was cured leather, its brown crest a simple marker for the crowd.


    He felt like he was going to battle. For all intents, he was. Why allow this? It was a bout, a match, not a blood sport.


    He worried about it, but too much was on the line. He cared too much. The people who had graced his life with their kindness, he owed them. And if winning could protect them, Ingrid, Benny, Ken, Jack, Brother Michael, Sister Brenda, Clarice-.


    The announcer¡¯s voice shattered his thoughts. ¡°Our next bout, numbers five and six, are called to the arena! Between Metan and the Monastery, we present their next champions!¡±


    The crowd erupted, the roar cascading over him like a wave. Dorian barely heard the gate rising. Sunlight crept in, illuminating the vast stretch of the arena floor. His heart slammed against his ribs. No more time to think.


    Dorian stepped onto the sands.


    Kurt made it back to the balcony just in time to catch the end of the slapdash announcement of the next match. Perhaps it was difficult to hype up competitors when all the announcer had to work with was their place of origin. Still, after the commencement of the match, all eyes were to the arena. Kurt looked down, then up to the projections above. Dorian¡¯s bulk was jogging towards the center, and from the opposite end came Tony. It felt like an eternity passed as the two came to the center, surprisingly, Dorian made it there first.


    Dorian paused by the marked line in the soil. He stood there waiting for Tony to take his place. The one making the announcements said, ¡°If the Monastery is ready?¡± Dorian lifted his staff. ¡°If Metan is ready?¡± Tony lifted his with a ¡°ha!¡± ¡°Fight!¡±


    Dorian advanced steadily, but midway to Tony, he eased out of his stance. He held his staff out, far from his body, pointed end out. Tony, catching on, made a comparable gesture and touched Dorian''s weapon slightly, nodding as he did. Dorian bowed his head slightly but never took his eyes off of Tony.


    Then, Dorian moved with a blur. Somehow, it sounded like the fight was happening right there in front of him. He could hear the ¡°whomp¡± of Dorian''s staff as he swung hard at Tony. Tony, for his part, didn''t do the smart thing and back away. Instead, he attempted to block the strike and likely counter. He never got that far.


    Dorian''s strike came so hard that even from this distance he could see Tony''s staff shaking. On the projection above, Tony''s face was the image of panic. Dorian came again, much faster than Kurt thought he could, bashing down at Tony''s defense with a series of wide arched strikes. After the fifth or sixth strike, Tony lost control of his weapon with one hand and was forced to back away. Dorian didn''t let him, but instead of striking Tony, he swung off the recoil of the block and hit the staff again. This time, with only one hand on it, Tony was unable to brace for the blow. He watched as his only defense drifted fifteen feet away.


    Dorian was quick, interposing himself between Tony and the staff. He held his staff like a spear, point outwards, coiled and ready to strike. ¡°It''s not worth it, yield!¡± He shouted at Tony, point unwavering as silence gripped the arena.


    With a sigh, Tony stood out of his stance. Hands wide, he bowed and said, ¡°I yield.¡±


    Dorian, twisted the staff away in one arm and bowed with fist to heart. ¡°I accept.¡± The crowd cheered.


    Kurt stared open mouthed. The staff he was using was the one Kurt had taken with him when Dorian had first been snatched by Moder''s people. That staff... that staff had been pissed on.


    Kurt''s laughter was drowned out by the cheering crowd, though a few people around him were giving him odd looks out of the corner of their eyes. Kurt didn''t care, and he was rather glad Dorian still had it. It seemed it had been repaired, mostly, but he remembered that trip. That''s when things changed, that was the beginning of this in earnest, though they couldn''t have known at the time.


    The next match was between another from the Monastery and a Gwendian. It wasn''t a bad match, but the one from the Monastery simply didn''t have the same skill as his opponent. Normally, it wouldn''t be such a bad thing, but with one end pointed and the other something used for bashing someone''s skull in, both contestants would likely leave bloody. Kurt wondered idly if Dorian knew the Monastery fighter, but let it pass. He shouldn''t worry himself overmuch, he''d have his own things to worry about before long. Gathering himself, he went back to his rooms for a spell. For the moment, the crowd and their need for blood was too much for him. He simply wanted to be alone. Besides, he''d have his own match to worry about soon.


    Dorian reveled in his praise as he left the arena, the crowd cheering as the light of the sun was left behind. Several others were there by the gate, a few entirely too early to be warming up. A few patted his shoulder, even the people from the other parts of the Monastery showed him respectful courtesy.


    A priest came up to him, she gave him a once-over. ¡°How do you feel, initiate?¡±


    ¡°Fine, I don''t think he even landed a blow against me.¡±


    The priest nodded once and continued, ¡°keep in mind, though we have a temple of Metae here, healing priest is reserved for the end of the day. If you get injured in your next match, you will be healed, but if you''re harmed in your first match tomorrow you wont be healed unless you concede the following bout.¡±


    Dorian''s brows came together as he thought this over. ¡°Would¡¯ve been nice to know before I went in there.¡±


    ¡°Brother Michael should have informed you, I simply wanted to issue a reminder.¡±


    Dorian exhaled sharply, pursing his lips as he turned to leave. The priest said something but Dorian didn''t pay it any mind. Gavin was by the arena gate, judging by the expression on his face he didn''t look to be on his game. Dorian ran over, the rush of the fight was still on him and he had energy to burn.


    ¡°Gavin, you up all ready?¡±


    Gavin nodded, looking grim.


    Dorian frowned. ¡°Hey, don''t do that to yourself.¡± Gavin looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin. ¡°Gavin, you''re better than this. I''ve fought you, I know you are. Take a breath, man. You won¡¯t do a damn bit of good going out there huffing and puffing like I do out of the circuit.¡±


    That got him to calm a spell. Gavin took a deep breath, letting it out in a shudder. ¡°I needed that.¡±


    Dorian shrugged, ¡°whatever is out there, it''s nothing worse than what we''ve already faced.¡± Dorian put a hand on Gavin''s shoulder. ¡°Think they''ll be as wickedly fast as Ingrid? Precise as Alex?¡± That got the shorter man to smile. ¡°No, no way.¡±


    Dorian smirked at him, ¡°good luck.¡± The announcer called the next match and the gate began to lift.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Gavin stood at the front, light around him like a holy man on the dais. ¡°Thanks, Dorian. You''re a better man than I knew.¡± With that, plumage bouncing, he ran to the center of the arena to take his place against the Gwendian, no hesitation in his stride.


    Dorian watched from the slats in gate, arms folded tight against his chest. Gavin wasn''t half bad, solid form and reflexes, though Ingrid had always outclassed him. Still, Gavin and the Gwendian went back and forth with a flurry of exchanges. The Gwendian was talented, a bit taller judging by what Dorian could see, but with the height advantage on top of greater skill, Gavin was outmatched. Dorian had a sinking feeling within the first fifteen seconds. By the time a few minutes had passed, Gavin had been bloodied but so had the Gwendian.


    Then it happened, a single misstep. Gavin stumbled and the Gwendian took advantage, a sharp, brutal thrust driving into Gavin¡¯s torso. Dorian sucked in a breath, eyes locking onto the wound. He couldn¡¯t see exactly where it had landed, but any thrust that deep was lethal without healing. Dorian prayed to the Gods that Gavin would just lie there. Despite his hopes, Gavin wasn¡¯t done.


    With a desperate snarl, he drove his own weapon upwards, catching the Gwendian under the shoulder. His opponent staggered, the crowd roaring at the sudden reversal but rage burned in the Gwendian¡¯s eyes. Then came the first strike.


    The blunted cap of the staff slammed into Gavin¡¯s chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. Dorian saw it happen in real-time on the projection above, the runes reflecting the brutal impact in clear, agonizing detail. Then another blow came down. Then another. The arena blurred.


    Dorian could barely hear the cheers, but they were there, a hungry, bloodthirsty roar. He swallowed bile, instinctively reaching for his Gia, but found nothing. Not even the small flicker of power it would take to activate his Giasight, to confirm if Gavin was still breathing.


    The announcer called the match, his voice barely cutting through the madness. The gates began to lift. It should have been over, but the Gwendian kept swinging. No!


    The announcer called again, sharper this time, but the next blow had already been in motion. It stopped at the last second, the combatant barely pulling his strike. Dorian didn¡¯t wait.


    He ducked under the half-raised gate and sprinted onto the sand, his vision red, his pulse a war drum in his ears.


    Gavin might not have been his friend, not in the way Dorian thought of friendship, but they had trained together for nearly two years. That meant something. Maybe not loyalty, maybe not brotherhood, but camaraderie. At that moment, it was enough.


    Dorian sprinted across the bloodstained sand, his eyes locked on Gavin¡¯s limp form. The Gwendian was already retreating, limping away with blood seeping from his arm and thigh. Dorian didn¡¯t care. Not now.


    His pulse thundered in his ears as he dropped to his knees beside Gavin, eyes scanning the speckled red across his face, the glistening patch of blood staining his chest. He pressed his ear against Gavin¡¯s mouth. His breath was weak, ragged. Dorian didn¡¯t hesitate, he hauled Gavin up, gripping him tight, only now registering the priests rushing in from the sidelines. They weren¡¯t moving fast enough.


    ¡°Show the way!¡± he roared.


    One of them hesitated. ¡°Initiate, you''re-¡±


    ¡°Show the way or regret it!¡±


    His voice cracked like a whip, making him think of Brother Michael. The priest flinched, glancing at his companion before nodding.


    Dorian ran, as hard and fast as his legs would take him. He knew this weight, known it all his life. It was nothing to him.


    He moved like Kressor¡¯s revenge was on his heels, like the sands themselves would rise to swallow Gavin whole if he so much as slowed. He didn¡¯t stop until finding a cot, doing what he could to put Gavin down gently. The priests were already gripping their power, their hands moving, but Dorian was still seeing red. Unbidden, in the depths of his mind, the rage only burned hotter. Why does it feel so¡­ right?


    Kurt finally found himself enough space to breath in his quiet room. The bed was large, lavish, and comfortable. However they had managed, it was quiet enough in his own rooms that he could hear himself breathing. Hells, he could almost make out his heartbeat. He washed himself a bit, hydrated, and even managed a nap.


    He was roused by some natural instinct telling him that lunch was being served. He came out of his rooms, moving over to the balcony and finding an open spot. He filled himself on roasted chicken, bread, and some kind of mush that, despite not looking it, was quite tasty. He patted his belly contentedly after he finished, looking around for any faces he knew.


    Not recognizing anyone, he decided to check on his parents. He came down the stairs quietly as to not disturb them and found the stall they were watching the matches from. He peered in and saw his mother holding his father''s hand.


    She looked at Kurt. ¡°He''s gone again. I don''t understand.¡± She took a long, deep breath, though even if she averted her eyes, Kurt knew they were tearing up. ¡°When did he start getting like this?¡±


    She sniffed, then said, ¡°about twenty minutes ago.¡±


    ¡°Have you two eaten?¡±


    ¡°Not since breakfast.¡± She shook her head.


    ¡°Let me bring you something, then we can start to puzzle this out.¡±


    She nodded, but her eyes never left Rand.


    Kurt returned shortly with a healthy serving of food, enough for three. His father was his father, after all. He placed it down on the small table that lie juxtaposed to the two of them. Handing some bread to his father, he said, ¡°here, dad, eat this.¡±


    Kurt moved to lean against the wall. His mother spoke up after a moment, though there was trepidation in her voice.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand it,¡± she murmured. ¡°This morning, he was just as blank as he¡¯s always been. I dressed him, spoke to him, but¡­ nothing. Then suddenly, he¡¯s here, talking like no time has passed at all.¡± She swallowed, glancing at Kurt. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s the arena? This place?¡±


    Kurt snapped his fingers. ¡°It could be, it was at a tournament like this that he met you, right?¡±


    She nodded, then said, ¡°well, maybe not like this. I don''t think there ever has been a tournament like this. Everyone is so vicious, it¡¯s not just fighting, it¡¯s the people. They''re half crazed. I saw one of the tanner boys-¡±


    ¡°Aaaaa¡± Kurt''s father said. Kurt''s eyes widened, his head snapping over to his father.


    ¡°Yeah dad, what is it?¡±


    ¡°Aaaa¡± he said, mouth full of bread.


    ¡°Yes, Rand. Tell us.¡± Said Rita.


    ¡°Aaa¡± Rand cut off then swallowed. He started again. ¡°Ale.¡±


    Kurt was confused, brows coming together as he looked over to his mother and back to his father. ¡°Ale?¡±


    ¡°Ale, boy. Ale, before I die of drought. What does a man have to do to quench his thirst around here. Hey, gorgeous, could you find us a drink. We can even,¡± he looked dead at her, eyebrows lifted once he said, ¡°share.¡± He winked.


    Kurt sighed instead of shuddering, then wiped his hand down his face. ¡°Was he always like this?¡±


    ¡°He could come on a little strong, when we first met, but not this strong. It''s odd, but-¡± Realization bloomed on her face. ¡°Kurt, go get us more food.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°The food, boy, go get more now. Whatever¡¯s in it is breathing life back into him!¡± She exclaimed, her excitement and hope plain in her voice.


    Kurt moved, double time, asking one of the people serving up dishes to bring down enough for five. Kurt returned explaining as much.


    ¡°Good, I hope you''re hungry Rand. We''re gonna feed you until you''re full and whole.¡±


    To that, Kurt''s father leaned over and whispered to Kurt, ¡°now that''s the kind of woman you keep. Remember that, boy, a woman with a mind to need you is the kind to feed you. That''s a lesson for the ages.¡± He grinned, mirthful, youthful, and as joyous as Kurt had ever seen.


    After a short while, Kurt took his leave. He was more than willing to help bring his father back to health, but sitting there while the man flirted like a needy lecher was another story.


    He made his way to retrieve his staff, not wanting to be without it when his match came. The booth section wasn¡¯t far from the so-called ¡°temple,¡± and the woman manning it informed him his staff was already below. He lingered a moment, exchanging light banter with the girl, not the same one as yesterday, significantly younger, but not bad on the eyes either. The flirtation wasn¡¯t entirely unwelcome, nor undeserved, and he left with a smirk.


    He passed the armed guards as he headed down, noting how their weapons were much closer to actual spears than the pointed battle staves he and the others would be using.


    Just as he descended, Bo was coming up.


    ¡°Oh, great. Now that the class has left, here comes the ass,¡± Bo sneered.


    Kurt grinned. ¡°Great to see you too, Bo. Hey, how are those smelters treating you? Want some oil? I hear getting bent really chafes after a bit.¡± He rubbed his backside for emphasis, then shrugged.


    Bo¡¯s face darkened, smoldering with rage, before he shouldered past him. ¡°Watch yourself, Hunt, or you¡¯ll get what¡¯s coming.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Bo, I think the only thing coming are the smelters.¡± Kurt shook his head, smirking. ¡°Good luck on your next bout.¡± Oh, making all kinds of friends today, aren¡¯t you?


    He stepped into the storage area and found the weapon rack. Two staves lay beside his, one marred with blunt strikes, the other streaked with dried blood. He frowned. How long was I up there?


    Kurt reached for his own, inspecting the work of the Monastery craftsmen. The steel point and cap gleamed, freshly polished. Everything seemed in order, until he saw the mark. Someone had taken a knife to his staff.


    Before the ¡°H¡± in Hunt, they had carved a crude ¡°C.¡± By scarring the ¡°N¡± into an ¡°M¡± and chipping the ¡°T¡± into a ¡°P,¡± they¡¯d left him a nice little message: Chump.


    Kurt took a long breath. Looked around for some water. He got to work.


    It took the better part of an hour to smooth away enough of the vandalism that it wasn¡¯t immediately obvious. Though, if you looked close, you¡¯d still see it.


    Oh, I¡¯m going to get that slimy bastard back. I¡¯ll make him swim through a mire of his own-


    ¡°And for our twelfth match, hailing from-¡±


    Kurt groaned, his head snapping up. Shit. He¡¯d been so wrapped up in fixing his staff he¡¯d lost track of time. Blackened damn. I hope I get to embarrass the hell out of that self-righteous son of a Gwendian lapdog. Taking a deep breath, he started stretching.


    It wasn''t long before Dorian had been pushed out of the medical bay, or the ¡°temple.¡± What made it a temple anyway? The statue of Metae hanging out front? If that''s all it took, Dorian would steal it and place it right up-


    ¡°Dorian, is he all right?!¡± Alex¡¯s voice hit like a slap, sharp and raw. Before he could react, she was on him, clutching him tight despite the blood still drying on his skin. ¡°Aye,¡± he managed, patting her back awkwardly. ¡°He''ll live. I made the healers tell me before I left.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Gods, Dorian. I was so scared, I went up to watch, and that-¡±


    ¡°Shh, shh, it''s all right now.¡± He pulled back slightly, resting his hands on her shoulders. ¡°He just needs time. He lost a lot of blood, likely some internal damage. Thankfully, the priests can heal anything short of death. He''ll be right as rain. He hesitated, then added, ¡°he''ll be pale, exhausted for a few days. They can''t make his body make more blood.¡±


    She nodded, stepping away with hands clenched. She was crying. Alex did a lot of things, but Alex didn''t cry. Dorian had seen her take a broken nose without flinching, had watched her grin through cracked ribs, had competed with her when pushing themselves further seemed just short of suicide. Alex didn¡¯t cry. Then, it hit him. Either they had been lovers in secret, or one or both had a seriously bad crush on the other. Being upset over a comrade is one thing, but a this? This was something else.


    ¡°Promise me.¡±


    ¡°Beg pardon?¡±


    She jabbed a finger at his chest, eyes hard. ¡°You lummox, you promise me you teach that bastard a lesson.¡±


    Dorian exhaled slowly, meeting her eye. ¡°Oh, I promise.¡± His voice came quiet now, low and edged with steel. ¡°I swear it, on my hope for rebirth, on the Gia that makes my very soul, I''ll make him pay.¡±


    Alex studied him. Searching. Looking for doubt, hesitation, weakness, anything that might make her waver. She found nothing.


    With a sharp nod, she turned and strode toward the temple. Dorian watched her go, jaw tight.


    Dorian returned to the balcony under a tide of open stares and hushed whispers.


    Only then did he realize, he was still covered in blood. No going back now.


    He exhaled through his nose, forcing his shoulders to relax as he grabbed a plate and tucked himself away in a shadowed corner. He wasn''t hungry, not really, but the motion of picking at the food kept him grounded.


    Ingrid¡¯s presence brushed against his mind, the link forming effortlessly between them.


    "How is he?" she asked, uncertainty lacing her tone.


    "He''ll live."


    A pause. "You''re angry."


    "Gods damned right, I¡¯m angry." His jaw clenched. "That kind of savagery. It¡¯s uncalled for."


    "You never really know in these situations," Ingrid mused, her voice thoughtful. "Maybe he was trying to send a message to the Monastery. Or maybe he lost someone, like a sibling, to us. You can¡¯t be sure."


    "But, I am sure." His response was colder than he intended.


    A ripple of skepticism passed through their link, her equivalent of raising an eyebrow.


    "And what exactly are you sure of?"


    "That retribution is in order."


    A sigh. Not exasperated, not dismissive, just tired.


    "Don¡¯t get yourself hurt, Dorian."


    "I won¡¯t."


    "Don¡¯t do anything to damage yourself."


    A flicker of annoyance. "Is there a difference between hurting myself and damaging myself?"


    "I''ll leave you to think on that, oh deep thinker you." There was warmth in her tone now, teasing but affectionate. Then, softer, "Before I go, I love your gift. Be safe."


    The link faded, leaving only the distant roar of the crowd and the weight of his own thoughts. Dorian let out a slow breath and returned his attention to the matches.


    The match was between a Kressian, though if not for his sun-darkened skin, it would¡¯ve been hard to tell, and one of the three from Metan. The latter was needle-thin, but he moved like quicksilver. Worse yet, he was utterly vicious.


    Dorian watched as the lanky man toyed with the Kressian, every strike a mockery rather than a blow meant to finish the match. The cruelty of it made Dorian¡¯s stomach turn. Why drag it out? Why humiliate the man? Was this sport or just another excuse for men to be monsters?


    Like a cat playing with a dying mouse, the Metian danced in and out, jabbing with surgical precision, never staying in range long enough for the Kressian to counter. And the taunts, incessantly. "Too slow, you idiot!", "Did they send a plow horse instead of a man?" and


    "Come on, you big dumb lout, try and hit me!"


    The Kressians in the stands booed, their frustration palpable. Dorian couldn''t blame them. Their champion was battered, his legs trembling, his grip weak. Anyone with eyes could see the match was over. The man should¡¯ve yielded. Should have.


    But Kressian pride was a terrible thing.


    Dorian exhaled through his nose, already preparing for the inevitable ending, one last decisive strike to down him. Instead, the Metian thrust through. Straight through the Kressian''s chest, metal point glinting red.


    For a moment, the world seemed to pause. Then, the arena erupted.


    Dorian barely registered the cheers, too busy staring at the body as it crumpled. The Kressian wasn¡¯t moving. No shallow rise of breath. No stunned groans of pain. Just a heap of flesh cooling in the sands. That wasn¡¯t a fight. That was murder.


    A sharp disgust twisted in his gut. His grip tightened on his staff, the worn wood groaning under his fingers. Dorian burned the Metian¡¯s image into memory. "If he makes it to the semifinals, and I face him..." He didn¡¯t finish the thought. Didn¡¯t need to.


    He paused. That was two promises now. Best not to swear by the Gods too early.


    For now, Dorian forced himself to keep watching. Every remaining fighter on that sand could be a future opponent. If he wanted to win, if he wanted to protect the ones who mattered, he had to be ready. Alone, his stomach churned, and for the first time since stepping into the arena, he felt the gnawing sensation of doubt. Eventually, he processed that doubt, deciding to do what he could rather than fret over what would.


    He tensed for a moment, as another unbidden though crossed his mind. Dad would be proud? The strange thought was so far out of nowhere that he checked to see if he was being influenced somehow. Eventually, he brushed it off and focused.


    For a while, he lost himself in the competition. Each combatant was a possible opponent, so he showed them the respect they deserved. To his surprise, Dorian wasn''t honestly too impressed. A few of the Kressian''s with stout builds moved with more flexibility than he''d known them to have, but even they had little on the competition he was used to.


    When Alex''s match came, she was a testament to the well placed strike. She didn''t thrust often, and seldom went wide, but when she did strike it was at the perfect spot and time. It was like seeing a massive brick wall, impenetrable, until the one who built it came along. She, or he, would remove just the right brick, and watch as the rest came tumbling down. She fought like that, all graceful, and all...


    ¡°Dorian, what are you thinking about?¡±


    ¡°Nothing!¡± He blurted through the link.


    He felt the prickly feel of jealousy through from Ingrid¡¯s side of the connection, making him smirk despite himself.


    ¡°Okay, fine. She''s all leg out there, do you see her? By the Gods, it would take a fool not to notice.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but not everyone notices quite so intently as that.¡± Ingrid pointed out.


    ¡°Like you don¡¯t intently notice Jack¡¯s broad shoulders every time we eat with him?¡± Dorian replied.


    Defensive, she said, ¡°Hey that is absolutely-¡±


    ¡°The exact same thing.¡± He paused. ¡°It''s okay, I don''t hold it against you. I''d appreciate it if you did the same for me.¡±


    ¡°Well, you''ve got nice shoulders too, Jack has the same shoulders on a shorter frame. Besides, I like my men tall.¡± Ingrid admitted.


    Dorian warmed for a moment. ¡°Hey, stop manipulating me!¡±


    ¡°You''re only mad because it''s working.¡± She teased as Dorian shut the link down.


    It was another hour after Alex''s match before a good match came up. It was the last contestant from Metae, someone nearly as tall as Dorian, though he didn''t carry as much weight, he was incredibly light footed. He fought against a Kressian, someone as broad as Dorian and roughly as tall himself. It started well enough, the Kressian coming in with a series of quick yet powerful blows, leaving the last representative of Metae on his back foot.


    The Kressian pressed further, pushing hard, but at every turn, the Metian defended, parried, followed or dodged every blow. It was then that Dorian knew the outcome, and he grew a great deal of respect for the fighters. They both had skill, but the Metian''s far outstripped that of the Kressian. As the Kressian overextended, a single jab came from the Metian''s pointed staff, cleanly striking the right bicep. The Kressian took to defense for a while, but eventually fell back in to his former pattern. After a while, another opening came, and once again a single blow to the other bicep.


    The Kressian dragged it out for a good while, made an honest show of it, but before long the Metian started on his offense. It was so fluid. Like water running down a hillside, flowing, finding the path of least resistance. Finally, the Kressian could barely hold his staff up to defend. Shaking he tried, but couldn''t keep the pace.


    Then the Metian had done something completely unexpected. He held the pointed end out to the Kressian, towards the man''s throat and shouted, ¡°Yield, for the love of Kressor''s might, yield.¡± The man tried to become enraged and struck the point aside. Then, the Metian swerved about, ending in the same position, point held to the man''s throat. The man shook, trying to move, only to sag to his knees.


    ¡°Stop this madness. Hasn''t there been enough bad blood between our people all ready? Damn your pride, and show your honor.¡± He was calm as he said these words, these words not of anger or blood lust, words of grace. As though Metae herself inspired him. The Metian further stupefied Dorian by adding, ¡°I''ll even throw in a cup of Yehalla.¡± The mention of Yehalla, some traditional Kressian drink if Dorian remembered right, caught the man off guard.


    The Kressian appeared shocked, if not dreary eyed. He laughed once and said, ¡°I yield.¡±


    As the Kressian finally let out a breath, slumping forward, the crowd¡¯s murmurs turned to a low rumble. Some still hungered for a more violent end, but others, perhaps the ones who understood the significance, began to applaud. The Metian didn¡¯t revel in the victory, didn¡¯t raise his fists in triumph. He simply bent down, picking up the man¡¯s staff as if this was the natural conclusion. The right one.


    Snatching the staff up, the Metian bent to a knee and presented it to his exhausted opponent. He said something to the man, the man grabbed the staff, and the Metian lifted him from there. All the while the crowd cheered and cheered.


    Jack had explained this to Dorian once, something about helping a man to his feet was considered a dishonor. Instead, to show your opponent honor, you presented him with his weapon. Something about how a Kressian should only ever die old or die with his weapon in hand. Next, by helping him up that way, he salved the man''s pride. Kressians were fucking weird.


    ¡°You are a man of true honor, I would have you sup with me and mine.¡±


    ¡°It would be a dishonor for me to deny such a gracious offer and accept so long as you would allow me to finish my next bout.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I would be a fool to try and deny you so. You are going to win this, after all.¡±


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± Kurt said with a grin as he stood near the man though he didn''t help him along.


    ¡°Because, I would not lose to anyone but the best. It will bring me great pride to see your victory.¡± The Kressian smiled broadly, a gap toothed smile that was completely unabashed.


    ¡°Then, I shall carry that pride,¡± Kurt said, smiling. ¡°Though I beg you don¡¯t ask me to join you for the Yehalla, I¡¯d like to still be standing when I claim the championship.


    ¡°Then we shall have it after you have taken the championship. To your ancestors, until I next greet you.¡±


    Kurt watched him go, brow furrowing. There was no hesitation in the man''s words, no bitterness in his loss, only pride. For all their odd customs, the Kressians knew how to fight, and, perhaps more impressively, how to lose. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. One down, four to go.


    Dorian decided that now was a good enough time to get going. On the way, he conversed with Ingrid about little things, nothing important, not now. All he wanted was to bask in her presence, even if she wasn''t there. She was a wonder for that, a kindness he felt he didn''t deserve. He told her to wish him luck as he descended the stairs for the last time that day. The link cut out just a few steps down, which was a good gauge as to when his Gia would no longer be available. He tried it and found nothing just like when he was on the arena floor.


    He wasn''t surprised, and was happy for it. If he could access his Shade, it wouldn¡¯t be a bout, it would be a slaughter. His other abilities we lackluster but even being able to send a bit of flames into someone''s eyes would simply make the match unfair. He was alright with that, he''d prefer a fair fight here, though, at that particular point, he was unsure as to how fair he was willing to be. Gavin hadn''t regained consciousness yet, and the cruel bastard responsible was likely warming up at that very moment. Dorian took to his forms, breath steady, body loose. He readied his fury.


    Dorian watched as another one of the Monastery champions left the gate. It lowered slowly, but judging from there he could tell his opponent was a monster. Some big shot Kressian, he had the first match of the day and won solidly. Dorian watched, mostly because the way his hands were shaking was becoming such a distraction that he needed to take his mind off his nerves.


    The match was brutal and swift. After it was over the announcer called, ¡°And we have our next named contender. Going on to the second day, Marcus Tender, representing Kresson and its outlying pastures. Lets have a cheer for him!¡± The arena cheered, but it wasn''t nearly so enthusiastic as the cheers during the match itself.


    The gate began to rise, the loud grating sound of heavy metal straining. A short time after, the Monastery initiate came back through the gates, Dorian didn''t know him but he was bleeding from a shoulder. His chin cast down, he carried the walk of one defeated soundly and not very happy about it.


    ¡°Any tips against that one?¡±


    The other initiate looked over at him for a moment, turned his head and continued walking. He seemed as hallow as Master Flint. Dorian shrugged it off, not bothering with it. He was up, and he was as ready as he could to be.


    The gate lifted, and Dorian stepped onto the sand, his path arcing toward the center. Dried blood caked his arms, his tunic, enough to stir a reaction from the crowd. The Gwendian smiled, but Dorian had no smiles left to give. This wouldn¡¯t be a match. It wouldn¡¯t be fun. He had no intention of showing the bastard anything but the same savagery he¡¯d shown Gavin.


    ¡°Blessed be the blood that stains this ground, for it shall bring our redemption. Is Gwendon ready? Is the Monastery ready? Begin!¡±


    Before charging, Dorian leveled his staff, pointing it straight at his opponent. ¡°I''ll give you one chance to concede. Just one.¡± His eyes were hard, and his insides churned. He felt the slightest tickle of¡­ an influence? He brushed it off, his focus was on one thing. The bastard in front of him.


    The Gwendian man stared at him, smirking. ¡°Seem¡¯s I¡¯ll have to teach you the same lesson I gave your friend.¡± He smiled even broader and charged. The blood lust in the Gwendian''s eye was all Dorian could to see.


    ¡°So be it.¡± He bellowed, wanting all in the Colosseum to hear it.


    Dorian''s opponent thrust outward, a testing jab, but with enough commitment to act upon. Dorian wasn''t going to give the man a single chance. Instead of backing off, he parried the blow, a man swatting at an insect. Without breaking stride, he stepped in, smashing the front of the Gwendian''s face with the broad side of his staff. The blow made a sickening crack, blood erupting from the Gwendian''s nose. As the arch of blood sprayed, he recoiled, trying to get away from Dorian.


    Dorian wouldn¡¯t allow it. He pressed forward, relentless, shoving the Gwendian hard. His opponent stumbled, falling back, scrambling to roll through and regain his footing,but Dorian was already there. He brought the metal-capped staff down with all his strength. He didn¡¯t care if the blow landed flush or glanced off, only that it hurt.


    Then, like the first breath of winter¡¯s chill, realization struck. This isn¡¯t just me. The fury was external. It clawed at his mind, surging through his limbs like a fever. The runes of the arena had taken hold. He had made a mistake. He had fed his rage into the arena¡¯s hunger and it had latched onto him. Now, it roared back, an overwhelming force he couldn¡¯t fight. For all intents, he felt the starving hunger of a beast after a long winter¡¯s sleep. Except, instead of food, rage. He hungered for it, needed to be filled with it. It took over.


    The blow landed, glanced off his opponent¡¯s head and solidly striking the shoulder. The Gwendian dropped his weapon as he called out, cupping his shoulder, he rolled away. Those in the grandstands were shouting, a thrumming, the pulse of his own heart echoing to the thunder of their voices.


    For one last fleeting moment, Dorian fought it. He hurled his own weapon away, praying the act would snuff the flames inside him, break the tunnel vision, slow his heartbeat. Wrath. Wrath was all, there was nothing more to him but this overwhelming feeling. The need to move demanded, it ordered him forward. Against his will, he obeyed.


    Surge.


    Dorian was on him snarling, the man cupped his shoulder but was scooting away which only infuriated Dorian further. He struck the fleeing Gwendian, it glanced away, then again, and again. Suddenly, the man in front of him was cowering. How dare he? How dare he?!


    Sitting astride the man, he swung meaty fists, one after another after another. The fear in the Gwendian¡¯s eyes said that he was coming to grips with the idea that his life was in danger, that Dorian wasn''t doing this because he wanted to win, that even a win wouldn''t stop him. The tainted pleasure Dorian felt was oozing over his mind. Enwrapped, entrapped, enveloped, entwined, ecstatic elation.


    Screaming now, Dorian put all his weight on the man''s shoulder with one hand. The other was the hammer driving the nail, over and over. Was his foe saying something? Was he pleading, begging? Disgust, disdain, decompose, despisement, deprecatory, decay, destruct, destroy. Destroy. Destroy!


    Three people were on him, his opponent getting away. How dare they? Like so many worker ants, they hauled him, pulled him up and moved him. But, his objective, he had to... What? He had to win a match, right? For his friends, for his love. He had to defeat...


    ¡°Our winner, Dorian Hook!¡±


    The crowd was cheering like he''d never heard. They called his name, his name?


    In a varying tones they called ¡°Do-re-an! Do-re-an! Do-re-an!¡± The high pitched sound of the of the overall cries were a blur, but in low tones he heard the Monastery and their choir. They sang it like a chant. ¡°Do-re-an.¡± And he harken to it like a chime on the wind, felt the concussive force of destiny as it echo through eternity.


    For a moment, time stopped. The people holding their positions like so many statues. He noticed bread flying out of one man''s mouth, and children jumping on their seats. Of woman raising fists, shouting for the sheer elation of it. The bloody smear of a man once dressed in white.


    Something gripped his heart and pulled. Every riptide taut cord of his body tugged. That sleeping bit of him coiled tightly around the core of him. Now it moved, and Dorian felt that spot expand. Every blank bit of himself suddenly surged, right down to the marrow of his bones. The sensation gnawed through him- Wake up.


    Everything came back into focus. The gates were lowering. There were priests, they were asking him questions. ¡°Do you understand what we¡¯re saying?¡±


    Dorian shut his eyes, half out of shock, and opened them. ¡°What are you saying?¡± He was a bundle of autonomous response now, which was better than before.


    ¡°Are you okay? There''s a lot of blood.¡±


    Dorian looked down at himself, a mass of fresh red blood covered everywhere that wasn''t already covered in dried. Here and there a bit of white or gore had glued itself to him. He began to pick it off himself, then faster, and he was shaking. Wet ran down his cheeks. His knuckles were raw.


    ¡°I, I would like to rinse off now.¡± He held his sobs, held his internal need to wrack himself, wheeling, weeping. He began walking, not sure in his direction, he didn''t care. One priest followed him closely to a small washroom. He shut the door quickly behind himself. What he held wasn''t a weight he could bear for long.


    What have I done?


    Kurt was speechless. His mind drew back to years ago, to when his little brother had leaped like a jumping spider at a Giant monstrosity and felled it like a great cat on a deer. This time though, it was man to man, and even without his hopped-up strength, Dorian''s opponent hadn''t fared much better.


    Kurt had a sick feeling ripping through his insides, the chaotic cheering around him was louder than he''d heard yet. The people, they loved it. They were going near mad for this violence, between that and witnessing his little brother covered in all that blood, Kurt was left dumbstruck. The first two priests had barely slowed Dorian as he pummeled his opponent into mincemeat. The third was only helpful because with his help, the three of them could finally lift Dorian up. Even then, he looked savage, feral, a caged beast furious for it''s captivation.


    Kurt couldn''t stomach it, he had head back to his rooms to think on whether or not getting his brother back would be worth it. On one side, it could be that the person he was now was incomplete and his docile little brother still lie asleep in that monstrous man. On the other, this could be what was there all along, what if by waking his little brother it only made things worse. Deposing the Grand Elder was removing an evil, according to everything he''d been told, but what good was that if he was replaced by... by whatever that was out there.


    An hour before his match, he moseyed his way on down to the arena chamber. It was getting on in the day by now, his was the second to last match before the end of the day''s games. Though not quite near sunset, the sky no longer shown through the slats of the gate, the shade being cast by the Colosseum itself had left the chamber eerily dark. As Kurt took to his forms, he had the strangest sense of being watched.


    ¡°Uh, hello?¡±


    Kurt waited a moment for a response. Even if he didn''t hear anything or see any movement, he could have sworn...


    ¡°How did you know I was here?¡± The voice was feminine, it came from the blackness at the furthest part of the chamber.


    ¡°I felt your eyes, now what do you want?¡± His voice was strange in his ears. Why had he sounded agitated?


    ¡°Pretty brutal, your brother.¡±


    Kurt''s brows knit together, and he found that he was in a defensive stance, sharp point aimed at the darkness. ¡°I''ll only ask one more time, what do you want?¡± He clipped each of the words off, adding a bite to it he hadn''t intended.


    ¡°That thundercloud on your brow is telling me you''re being affected by the wards too. Listen close, Kurtis, for I don''t have long. Do not grow angry in the arena. After the first death, the other Metian, something on the arena grounds has changed. If you show anger, fury, rage, whatever, it will fill you. You''ll go mindless, you''ll feel an overwhelming need to be violent. Resist it.¡±


    ¡°How? You can''t fight your feelings.¡± Kurt said, brown still heavy.


    ¡°Yes, but you can focus on certain ones. I don''t care which ones you focus on so long as it isn''t based in anger.¡±


    Kurt thought this over and noticed something. Like a nagging sensation, as though he were right on the edge of irritation and was ready to plunge in to a rage. He took a breath, closed his eyes, and focused on his curiosity instead.


    ¡°How do you know he''s my brother?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I''ve been working with Moder since I came to the Monastery. I''m not the only one, that''s all you need to know.¡± Kurt thought he could hear a smile in her voice.


    Kurt thought for a long moment and nodded, not taking his eyes off the dark.


    ¡°Can I trust you, Kurtis Hunt?¡±


    He shrugged, ¡°depending. I''d tell you twenty lies if you intended harm to my kin or myself.¡±


    The woman though for a moment, then gave a ¡°ha¡± sound as a letter seemed to flow out of the darkness. It landed in front of him.


    ¡°You can read it, but it has some rather scandalous information about your father and mother in there. I''ll leave that at your discretion.¡± The letter was addressed to ¡°Rita Hunt, Second to the line, First to the house.¡± Second?


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    As if far away, an echo more than hearing the words direct. ¡°Fight well, nephew.¡± Nephew?


    The word rattled around in his skull, but before he could process it, he heard a click. An unknown door shut, leaving him with nothing but the whisper of her voice in the dark.


    As the arena gate raised, Kurt couldn''t make out much beyond the roar of the crowd. They were crazed, manic even. He didn''t wait to hear his name as he doubted he''d be able to. Heading out, a Gwendian stood in stance against him, she was very ready. The crowd calmed enough to hear the announcer give his blessing, then, pausing just enough to create some tension, he shouted, ¡°fight!¡± The crowd echoed the announcer, and before Kurt knew it he was on the defensive.


    Though, the strikes fell rather short of what he expected. He didn''t even worry as he parried, dodged, and countered each and every strike. The woman was blindly executing every ill-favored attack most novices should know better to avoid. Kurt actually laughed as she tripped over herself in one move, then attempted to compensate by releasing a flurry of quick attacks. Laughing, he countered each with little more effort than his warm up.


    ¡°Hi, yes, do you know how to use that¡± he let that sit for a few seconds before he added, ¡°hon?¡±


    It was the most condescending thing he could think of, not his worst considering ten thousand people screaming at him. They didn''t even laugh, which left him feeling a bit underwhelmed.


    Realization dawned on her face before she screamed, ¡°I''ll kill you!¡±


    Kurt just smiled and shrugged. ¡°You know, I give free lessons in Metae. Come down some time and-¡±


    She was swinging again. Her movements now clunky as hell, he''d seen mummers shows with more grace. Kurt just kept laughing as she kept coming. Was nobody else embarrassed by this? Gods above, his brother at twelve had more grace, and he was basically a walking talking sack of potatoes back then. This was the championship?


    She screamed in frustration, and Kurt nearly doubled over in laughter. She was heaving, great large breaths, her lungs working like a bellows.


    ¡°I''m sorry,¡± he said mockingly. ¡°Do you need me to get you some water?¡±


    And, grace be to the Gods, someone laughed at that. It caught, and several others seemed to pull out of that crazed blood lust enough to enjoy some of Kurt''s fine humor.


    She charged him, point forward, clumsy as a newborn. He rolled his eyes and tripped her after blocking her strike. She fell down in a heap of frizzled hair, sweat, and dusty dirt.


    Kurt turned and felt the beginnings of a yawn. He didn''t fight it, going so far as to forget about his staff, it dropped to the ground bouncing once before coming to rest. She still hadn''t picked herself up yet.


    ¡°Um, hello? Are we fighting? Or is this a Gwendian mating ritual of some kind?¡±


    Kurt picked his staff back up, intending to nudge her, but before he could the announcer called out. ¡°It, uh, seems as though she is unconscious. Under this circumstance, if we don''t have a response from her within a ten count, the match is over.¡± He began counting, the crowd joining in about mid-way through.


    Though the match was over, he was curious, so he kicked away her staff. Turning her over, her whole body looked bruised. He stepped back as the bruises seemed to flow through her body and out again. She was beginning to convulse. She began coughing, hacking really. From a distance, it looked like blood, but Kurt knew what that was. That black shit, the way it seeped into the arena floor, could only be one thing. Kraken, Bacchus.

 Chapter 37 - The Roar of Glory

    ¡°That wasn''t you, little one.¡±


    ¡°Then why can''t I get his face out of my head? Why do remember?¡±


    The creature stood over him, sadness emanating like heat from a stove. So strange, a monster concerned?


    ¡°Perhaps, a bit of you. Worry yourself not, before the end, let Moder make this gnackish-tek k-k-k, better.¡±


    And just like that, the memory was locked away. Where? Where in the forest of his mind was-


    The landscape blurred around him, the dream becoming estranged. Now, he was a bird looking down. The forest below walled off just before a ridge, the steep cliffs making it near pointless to even have walls. There below, a plump child ran along that border, knocking at the wall, trying to find a way in.


    Dorian woke. He was being clutched from behind, it was an odd feeling though not necessarily uncomfortable. Then the events of last evening unfolded in his mind.


    His knuckles had been healed, he had been washed off and provided with monk¡¯s robes. Upon returning to his rooms, Jack, Ingrid, Malik and Benny were all standing there waiting. He broke down, though he had the grace to hold it down until they were inside. Even then, he held back all he could, not wanting to be a blubbering mess in front of his friends. Benny always had a rotten joke to cheer him, and Jack''s stiff-necked-yet-goofy form of comedy had them all laughing before long. Each had discreetly taken a moment to either ask him if he was okay, knowing full well that he really wasn''t but going through the motions anyways. Somehow, Ingrid had gotten out of duties tonight, which made Dorian grateful.


    Not that he was grateful to be breaking down in front of his girlfriend, but if there was anyone he could drop all his walls for, it was Ingrid. She would let him hurt the right amount, knew how to tell him it would be okay.


    Of course, that meant that Dorian had to listen to her say things like ¡°toughen up,¡± or to ¡°put his panties on straight.¡± She''d say it with a smile, but Dorian knew it was her way of saying that she was there for him. Some relationships might work differently, but Dorian didn''t care for those relationships. His eyes were for her, and her eyes for him.


    He wavered, of course, throughout the night. The memories eating at the back of his mind, the images flashing back vivid as though they were happening that very moment. But, Ingrid was there, catching him as he fell, pulling the shattered bits of himself back together in a weave strong enough to suffice. Before the end of the night, he was whole, though it wouldn''t have taken much to tip him over and break him once more. Still, she stayed. Stayed until he was one piece, stayed until the glue had set enough that she knew he wouldn''t need support. She was a wonder like that.


    Extricating himself gingerly, he managed to rise without waking her. He moved quickly to the washroom, making his way through his regular morning routine as quietly as he could. Just as he was dressed in his own tunic, now that the first day was over he didn''t have to wear that bloody vest, a knock came at the door. Dorian grabbed his boots, opened the door and quietly shut the door behind him.


    ¡°Good morning Basil.¡±


    ¡°Good morning sir, I take it you didn''t want me to disturb any of your... uh, fans?¡±


    ¡°Oh, this fan is a very important fan. What are your plans today, Basil?¡± Dorian asked as he peeked out at the balcony. The patrons were stirring, but it was still early yet. To his surprise, many of them simply slept in the stands.


    ¡°Oh, well sir, you''re my last stop. I''ve already taken care of the other contestant, and I wanted to take to watching the show today. I like the javelin throw.¡± For a young lad, he wasn''t all too bright, but for what it was worth Dorian could tell he had a good heart.


    ¡°Would you like to help me with some errands, then? I''ll throw in some coin for good measure.¡±


    Eyes going wide, Basil nodded his head enthusiastically as he placed the food he was carrying on a small foldout table. ¡°That would be great! Uh, sir. I got a jump on the good rates when the temple opened last night.¡±


    ¡°Oh? I assume the temple of Kressor is taking wages.¡±


    ¡°Oh, they are sir, I put all my earnings on...¡± Basil''s face seemed to go red as he realized who he was talking to. ¡°Dreadfully sorry, sir. No offense.¡± He shrugged awkwardly.


    Dorian smiled and laughed, a deep and full laugh that filled the hall around him. ¡°It''s quite all right. So tell me, did you wager on the whole tournament or just one round at a time.¡±


    ¡°Mm, well, both sir. I put it all on Tender though, that real big Kressian.¡±


    ¡°You mean the one I''m fighting this morning?¡±


    The whimpering smile he shot at Dorian was a piece of art. Dorian laughed, shrugging it off. ¡°How much did you wager on the first match today?¡±


    ¡°Well, two full tokens, sir.¡±


    ¡°Tell you what,¡± Dorian said as he found the purse that Malik was kind enough to drop off the night before. It was a full roll of Vega tokens, though no longer in its sleeve. He pulled two out and rubbed them together. ¡°If you''d be willing to run a few errands for me I''ll cover your loss for today''s match.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that''s mighty generous of you sir, mighty generous indeed.¡± He was getting excited, which made his voice come out nasally and in a rush. ¡°What do you need, sir?¡±


    Dorian thought it over for a moment, wondering how much he could trust the young man. If Dorian had his guess, the boy was about fifteen, an age where wisdom seldom won over mischief. Figuring that if the boy was smart, he would know that he could make a few more coins off Dorian before it was through if Dorian happened to win today.


    ¡°What are my odds today of beating this Tender?¡±


    ¡°Oh, when I placed it, I got one to two, which isn''t bad. Now though, anyone wagering on you would likely get eight to one. Tender is the top seed, I think.¡±


    Dorian nodded once and retrieved his purse once more. He counted out ten Vega tokens. ¡°Now, keep in mind I''m trusting you, Basil. First, I''d like you to buy a shit ton of flowers. I think I saw a vendor selling some yesterday.¡±


    Basil nodded as he looked around, then pocketed the coins. ¡°How much is a shit ton, sir?¡±


    ¡°An impressive amount, enough to surprise my very special fan in there.¡± Dorian pointed at his door with his thumb. ¡°With the flowers, a breakfast comparable to the one you''ve brought me.¡± Dorian eyed the breakfast, noting eggs and oatmeal. ¡°Scratch that, a better breakfast than the one you''ve brought me.¡±


    Basil looked sheepish for a sec, then nodded. ¡°And with the rest, sir?¡±


    ¡°I''d like you to place the rest on me in the first match. After I win, I''d like you to come find me.¡±


    With that, Basil was off like a dart. In two breaths he was down the hall turning to head down the stairs. By the Gods, did I ever have so much energy?


    He worried briefly over the rates of the wager, wondered what to expect from Tender. Scooping all the various bits of the breakfast into the stone bowl the oats were in, Dorian left, bowl in one hand, boots in the other. He was the first match of the day, he didn''t want to go unprepared.


    Kurt woke softly, though his head felt like a melon. He wasn''t sure where he was at first, then remembered the luxury of the rooms he''d been given. Gods, do people actually live like this?


    He took his leave to empty his bladder, regretting the few sips of Yehalla he had drank the night before. While he was in the washroom, he decided a warm bath might just be exactly what he needed. Realizing that he had the leave to do as he liked, he took an extraordinarily long bath. The heat of the water warmed his cold hands and feet, though he hadn''t noticed they were cold until he began bathing. He soaked in the warm water until his hands were pruned like old man Hans.


    After drying off and dressing, he came on to the balcony. His first match wouldn''t be until afternoon, he had time to spare. He found someone serving out breakfast and put two fingers up as he sat at a table by himself. He listened idly to the chatter around him as he waited.


    ¡°Can you believe it? Another Hunt in the tournament. Hadn''t there been a championship match about, oh, twenty years ago between two Hunts?¡±


    Kurt grinned at that, though he didn''t know that it was between two hunts. Then, he remembered the note that woman had given him. Nephew? Could she have been the other Hunt?


    Lost in his thoughts, he hadn''t noticed the server drop off two plates of food before he had a chance to thank them. He frowned at himself, decided it was too late anyways, and dug into the oats, eggs, and sausage of questionable origin. He also managed to drink down several pitchers of water, all the while promising himself he''d ¡°never drink again.¡±


    ¡°I don''t know though, that Kressian Tender has the top seed. Have you seen him? He''s more beast than man, that one, I feel bad for that big one fighting him today. I had hopes for him, what was his name? Hook?¡±


    The other nodded, ¡°odd name that, what does a Hook do for a living? Fish?¡±


    ¡°Hells, it''s probably not even his real name. You know how they get when the families try to contact them.¡±


    The other man went quiet at that. Kurt stopped listening in and decided to beg off. Fingering the letter on the inside of his vest, he decided to find his mother, check on his father, and put a bet down on Dorian. Kurt didn''t have much for coin, but he figured he''d put a little bit of faith in the Gods. He might not agree with the Way of the Path, but he had his own arrangements. His relationship with the Gods weren¡¯t defined by any man, any priest, and certainly not-


    ¡°You! Come with me.¡±


    ¡°Hey, you''re that Flint fellow, aren''t you. Coming to apologize for that lunch you never bought me?¡±


    ¡°Don''t you take that tone with me!¡± The man was sweating like Kurt had never seen, his face was flushed, and he seemed on edge.


    ¡°Hey now, it''s okay. I''ve stood up many a woman, but I never threw myself at their feet. Come on man, get a grip of yourself. It''s embarrassing.¡± Kurt was effortlessly nonchalant as he flicked a back hand at the man as though he were shooing a rodent.


    ¡°Why- you- list-¡± the dark haired man said, then he made an odd noise. It sounded more like a half crazed lunatic than a ¡°Master¡± from the Monastery.


    Kurt sighed loudly, ¡°fine, but make this quick. I actually have to pay attention to the matches today.¡±


    Flint twitched once making a guttural noise as his twisted. Shaking he waved for Kurt to follow.


    The path they took was the same confusing one they had taken last time, but this time the Monastery monk was a polar opposite to the man he was just the day before. He seemed to get distracted easily, losing himself in a painting here or obsessing over lining something up correctly. When they came to the appropriate door, Flint unlocked the door, locked it twice, then unlocked it again. Then he turned the nob like it was hot, touching it briefly before pulling his hand back as though burned. What an odd fellow.


    As soon as Kurt came in to the room the door behind him slammed shut. He jumped, turning in midair. The black mop that was Flint''s head was covering his face as splotches of wet seemed to cling to it from the man''s face. He was haggard, snot and tears coming down his face. ¡°What have they done?!¡± The man shouted, shaking Kurt.


    For Kurt''s part, he didn''t knock the guy on his robed ass for two reasons. First, he had to admit, he was completely thrown off guard. Second, whatever was going on with this man he was obviously desperate.


    Prying Flint''s hands from his vest, Kurt calmly asked. ¡°What is your fucking problem?¡±


    ¡°Don''t you see? Your father, what, what, what did that to yo-yo-your father? What?!¡± Flint shouted.


    Kurt wasn''t going to have that, in fact, with the pounding in his head at the time, he was about out of patience. He punched Flint right in the mouth, not hard, but enough to stun the man momentarily. Kurt grabbed a nearby chair as Flint looked up at Kurt all kinds of confused.


    ¡°Bu-but I didn''t, did I?¡± Flint looked up to Kurt as though Kurt understood.


    ¡°Enough. What is your problem? Did you take something? Dig a little too deep into that bag of painkillers or had too much tea?¡±


    The man frowned as he looked over himself. A flush, then his natural pale seemed to wash back over him in quick succession. He took a hold of himself, for the moment at least, placed his hands on his lap and fixed his posture. ¡°I would like to inquire if you have any idea what has caused your father to resume his prior state.¡± This seemed to be a struggle for the man, his body was shaking, though his eyes were steady as the mountains surrounding the valley.


    Brows heavy, Kurt stared for a moment before saying, ¡°the food. We think it¡¯s the food. I don''t know how it''s different, but it is doing something. You didn''t have to drag me all the way down here for that.¡±


    Flint wasn''t even paying attention at that point, he was rummaging about for something, talking to himself. ¡°Yes, yes, the food, the food. Of course, he and I, I and he, both had too much taken. I was more though. Yes, for I had more left, he was all waste, yes, yes.¡± He gasped for a moment, eyes going wide. ¡°No.¡± His mouth held the ¡°o¡± shape as he looked around ponderously. Kurt, quietly, oh so quietly, took his leave.


    On the way out, he caught sight of someone lain out, stripped down to the waist, with bandages covering most of his face. An eye poked out though it was shut.


    ¡°Pretty gruesome, right? Poor kid came in after that beating. He''s missing a part of his jaw, it simply couldn''t be saved.¡± Kurt looked over, not realizing someone had been watching him. The woman actually tsked.


    ¡°Oh, that''s...¡±


    ¡°You know, you look like someone I know.¡± The woman said as she tilted her head at him, the wrinkles on her face were indicative of someone much older than she seemed.


    Kurt put his hands up. ¡°You know, you''re the second person from this temple to use a bad pickup line from this place.¡± He smiled as he said it though.


    She laughed, ¡°you act like him too.¡±


    ¡°Uh, thanks?¡± Kurt asked, sounding confused.


    ¡°Wait, did you say the second. Who was the first?¡±


    ¡°Some ¡°Master¡± Flint. The guy should be locked up, he''s raving mad.¡±


    She browbeat him for a moment, then looked pensive. She started to walk away.


    ¡°What was this other person''s name? The one you know.¡± Kurt called though not loudly.


    She paused and turned. ¡°Dorian.¡± She looked at him for a moment and recognized something. ¡°He was the one that beat that young man in there near to death.¡±


    ¡°Doesn''t that disturb you?¡± Kurt asked softly.


    She looked at him then, really looked, and her eyes came away startled as though she was just noticing him for the first time. ¡°Yes and no. The violence itself is disturbing, but believing who did it? No, not one bit.¡±


    Kurt gave her a disbelieving stare.


    After one eyebrow went up, the woman said, ¡°we are all capable of violent things, child. The fact is, I know that young man well enough to know that if he went that far, he had good cause. And if he didn''t, by the Gods, we all make mistakes.¡± She turned as her voice rose an octave at the end of her point, chin high, proud as a cat.


    Finding his parents wasn''t much of a chase. He thought he might watch the rest of the show with the Kressians, they weren''t a bad lot, after all. He figured he''d check in on his parents before ¡°randy Rand,¡± his new mental nickname for his father''s state, decided to get handsy. He sighed at the grand awkwardness of it all, which made his head spin for a moment. Gods, I''m never drinking with those people again.


    Kurt wasn''t sure if it was just that group of Kressians or just the way they were as a people, but they could drink. By the Gods, could they drink. Gobs of it, unrealistic amounts liquor and ale, so much so that he had little room left for food by the end of the night. Kurt had attempted to slow down, but before he knew it another drink was thrust into his hands. At that point, it was a foregone conclusion, and the blurry night disappeared in boasts, threats and laughter.


    His consolation prize? A throbbing headache that reminded him that perhaps he''d keep his own company. He thought he vaguely recalled retching up, maybe more than once? Kurt shook his head softly as he descended the stairs to his parent''s quieter nook. As the light of the sun dimmed, as did the sound of the crowd, a gentle ease of alleviation settled on his face. He felt the muscles there relax, and Gwendos be praised, the throbbing in his head was suddenly much more manageable.


    He knocked softly at the side of the nook, his mother called back, ¡°come in.¡±


    Turning the corner, his father sat idly holding his mother''s hand. They were watching the arena floor, Rand chewing on something was oblivious to Kurt''s presence.


    ¡°I take it he''s not-¡±


    ¡°Holy Hells, boy! Where did you come from?¡± Rand looked to Rita then to Kurt.


    ¡°Oh, you''d never guess. What''s got you so captivated down there?¡± Kurt said as he peered over to see the grounds.


    ¡°This Kressian from the Monastery. He tosses the hammer like it''s a bola, it''s unbelievable.¡±


    Kurt looked over to see a large, though not the tallest, Kressian. If you didn''t pay attention, you''d think he was squat, but he really wasn''t. He was just broad, like the side of a house, which made him seem shorter than he really was. Kurt watched as the young man spun three times before launching the ball and short chain. It really did fly through the air like a bola.


    ¡°Whoa, that is impressive.¡±


    Rand nodded in affirmation, eyes never leaving the arena ground. ¡°That was his last throw, first match should be soon.¡± He looked to Rita, then back to the grounds. ¡°Suppose, since I''m not fighting in this tournament, I''ll have an ale.¡±


    Kurt''s brows came together in confusion, then he looked to his mother.


    Without a moment''s pause she said, ¡°I''ll have some tea, the black stuff not that watered down honey they serve at night.¡± She gave Kurt a look, then bobbed her head towards the door.


    Thinking for a moment, Kurt sighed and said, ¡°I''ll send someone down shortly.¡± He placed his hands behind his back, fixing his posture as he did. Turning on his heel, he left the nook, indignation plainly written on his face, muttering as he trudged up the steps.


    Eyes shut, Dorian sat on his heels before the gate. Jack had been tearing it up out there, and though he congratulated Jack as the gates opened, Dorian still had a mounting sense of dread over his next match. Nothing Jack said could change the fact that he was about to fight the top seed. He took a deep breath, then another.


    Balancing there on his heels, something was different today. He hadn''t noticed it the night before, but today there was a sudden lack. The night prior it was thick in the air like humidity, but today... nothing. It was like a veil had lifted. The beauty he¡¯d imagined was gone, replaced with something ancient, all rotten teeth and a single cataract, older than any ten elders combined. Then, just as quickly, the veil dropped again, and there it was, lithe, young, supple hip and all. He worried for a moment that he might be mad but shrugged it off. If he was, then it mattered little. The madness would have to take a number, because the tournament''s ticket was up.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The more he thought about it, the more he couldn''t see an escape. If he lost, he could die. If he won, he''d probably die or suffer a fate worse than death, being consumed by the slow meaningless labor of a failed initiate. Well, Dorian, at worst you know your least favored option. That has to be worth something, right?


    He scowled for a moment before hearing his name called, the arena gate opening slowly. The chanting began, though not so many as the night before. Now it seemed only the Monastery choir was chanting, making his appearance feel ominous in the extreme. He jogged out to his place, finding the line in the hardened earth. Placing his foot, he waited.


    ¡°Our next contender for the Grand Tournament Championship, hails from the vast plains of Kresson, weighing eighteen stone. Blessed by Kressor, the hope of the west, Marcus Tender!¡± The crowd boomed, loud enough Dorian''s ears wanted to pop. The roar was tangible, like standing too close to a piece of Gwam going up in a heap.


    The large man started jogging out, and by the Gods, he was large. He had maybe a half finger on Dorian in height, but was as broad as the mountains. He carried a bit more than Dorian did around the middle, but his shoulders made one''s eyes pay no mind to it. His legs though, his legs were squat little things by comparison. Dorian muffled a chuckle at the thought of a barrel held up by thin sticks, realized this would be the absolute worst place for it, then laughed anyways.


    The crowd slowed in their cheering to watch the two competitors. The other man wore no smile, but Dorian couldn¡¯t help himself, his shone as brightly as the sun.


    ¡°You smile? What makes a man such as you smile like that? Unless you are one to smile at death, yes?¡± His speech had a low drawl, one that was distinctively Kressian. Surprisingly, his voice was a bit high, something you wouldn''t expect from a man so large.


    ¡°I smile for the chance to combat, perhaps a challenge lay before me at last.¡± Dorian said, trying to match the speech a bit and surprisingly succeeding.


    The cool gaze the Kressian gave him was long and assessing. ¡°You surprise me, I took you for a savage.¡± He said, head slanted with his chin tucked.


    ¡°Hmm, that.¡± Dorian replied, dripping solemnity. ¡°That one was looking for savagery. I provided it.¡±


    Tender looked him over for a moment. ¡°I want an honorable match, what say you?¡±


    Keeping Tender''s eyes, Dorian gave a single slow nod. ¡°I can provide that as well.¡±


    With the end of Dorian''s statement, the announcer gave the blessing. ¡°Blessed be the blood that stains this ground, for it shall bring our redemption. Ready combatants? Begin!¡±


    Dorian''s heart was beating so hard that he thought he''d start bleeding out of his ears. He started at a slow jog to cover distance and stumbled a bit as he did. He recovered quickly, but for the life of him he felt his face flush hot. He had just tripped in front of every person in creation. A small voice inside his head echoed, Oh, the shame! The shame, Dorian!


    He smiled at his self-deprecation. It couldn''t get any worse.


    Kurt¡¯s stomach churned, but he stayed put. The last thing he wanted was to stand among the Kressians when they cheered against his little brother. Little? No. Maybe not even younger anymore. But hells, he¡¯ll always be my little brother.


    Kurt nodded to himself as the announcer called for Dorian. At the sight of him, Kurt still couldn''t believe the change, he decided to head down to the nook his parents were using. Upon arriving, his parents were both watching with extreme interest, but his mother wore the brow of worry like a crown. She turned to Kurt, Rand didn''t, which is to say he could be reverting or interested.


    ¡°Kurt, wha-¡±


    ¡°Ma, I''m watching the match here.¡±


    ¡°So-¡±


    ¡°Mom!¡± He raised his tone but not the volume of his voice.


    She looked him over for a moment, and sighed. ¡°Hopefully he doesn''t notice.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps it might be a good thing if he does.¡± Kurt shrugged as he crouched down to a knee, resting his hand on the back of his mother''s chair.


    ¡°Ha! The big one from the Monastery tripped. Hey, Rita, you don''t know that one do you? Maybe you two tr-¡±


    ¡°Hush! Watch the match, you ape.¡±


    Taken aback, he turned to look at her. Somehow, he hadn''t even noticed Kurt. His expression went from vapid stare to affirmation in less than two seconds after seeing Rita''s face. He turned back, and watched.


    Dorian had regained his footing and was warily circling the Kressian Tender. The tension seemed to build in the air before Tender took the initiative. He lanced out, extending far with one hand. Anyone with eyes could tell it was a distancing tactic, a way to close space especially if you were slow. Dorian was wise to the tactic and stepped in, he managed to swap the ends of his weapon mid-step and instead of impaling his opponent he landed a solid blow to his opponent''s sternum. It was the kind of blow that could stop a heart. The crowd had hushed as soon as Dorian stepped in, the solid thump that sounded seemed to carry everywhere at once.


    Dorian danced back, whirling his staff to defend against any attacks as he gave space. It was a shame and an honor to the Kressians. Though, Dorian likely didn''t know that.


    Kurt had known their customs from the wilders that ran their way through the woods. It was an easy transition into the Wilds coming from the southern end of Kresson, if you didn''t consider the lions. Some people just had the call, Kurt figured, though when it cost them their fool lives he wondered if they should just leave the Wilds to him. I am the king there, after all.


    Dorian was holding position, waiting on his opponent. Arrogant? Dorian?


    With a cry, the Kressian was released. Bounding forward, this time there was no testing jab. Though it was hard to tell, Kurt thought Tender''s head was a surprising shade of red.


    Like a bull, he charged, Dorian taking quick to defense. He tried a parry or two, but the man was so strong that Dorian was ripped out of his stance each time he took the full brunt of a blow like that. How was anyone that strong?


    Dorian surprised the crowed, Kurt included, as he managed a barrel roll over a low sweep, and swung wildly with one hand. He connected, not hard but hard enough to put his opponent on the defensive. Back peddling, Tender struggled briefly to regain his poise, then shouted as he ran in again. There was hardly a moment of recovery there, which left Dorian an incredibly short window to take advantage.


    Kurt absently started chewing his lip as he watched. Tender was fury once again, but was so gracefully. Every step he took was perfect, his footwork was beyond effective despite how teensy-tiny Tender''s legs were.


    Kurt snorted aloud, muttering he said, ¡°surprised a barrel on legs can move like that.¡±


    Rand snorted behind him and he heard his mother ask, ¡°what''s got you two chuckling?¡±


    Kurt felt the eyes of his mother on his back for a moment, but he was too wrapped up in the bout. Dorian was surprisingly slippery, seeming to take greater risks after a while of being hounded. When he did, the Kressian caught on quickly to the tell. Dorian, Kurt had noticed, tended to spin the bottom of his staff when he was thinking of doing something clever. Or stupid. Or both. Balls, Dorian. What are you thinking?


    As Tender''s next swing came low, the ridiculous son of bitch cartwheeled towards his opponent. Tender hopped back at the sight of a staff being swung at him, but wasn''t expecting Dorian to come off his hands like that, hells, Kurt hadn''t either. Dorian used the momentum of his somersault to vault himself forward then took two great bounding strides towards his opponent and leaped.


    He smashed down like a thunder strike, but instead of his opponent folding, he took the blow staff to staff. Dorian bounded off of him like a rubber ball against a tree. Taking full advantage, the Kressian struck out, thankfully not with the pointed end, but landed two hard thrusts to Dorian''s stomach. Dorian danced back, never breaking eye contact with Tender. Then, without warning, he vomited. No heave, no retch. Just a quiet spill of liquid and chunks onto the Colosseum floor.


    If Kurt hadn''t been watching Dorian so closely, he might not have noticed it. Outside of the wet on the ground, you couldn''t tell. Dorian''s eyes were locked, watching every step of his opponent. Kurt''s heart was beating out of his chest.


    Tender came in swinging, and Dorian was running again. ¡°Damn it, Dor, fight him.¡± Kurt said without meaning to.


    ¡°Dor?¡± Rand said, looking at Kurt quizzically. His head tilted and his eyes seemed to come in and out. Rand head snapped to the arena, he started shouting madly. ¡°He''s red meat, Dorian! The people won¡¯t take it!¡±


    Dorian was on his heels again. This man could move. Dorian thought he was fast for his size, but this guy seemed to pop up out of nowhere half the time. His sudden bursts of speed kept slipping passed Dorian''s guard leaving him rushed and reeling. That''s when Dorian''s ears heard the oddest thing. Normally, when he was in the fight that was where all of him was. The rest of the world slipped away and he was only there in that moment, his awareness dropped to him and his opponent, nothing else. Somehow, someone had said something that rang in his mind.


    ¡°The people wont take it.¡±


    What an odd phrase. What had he said before, red meat? Perhaps the oddest-


    Something clicked in his brain. The people wont take it, unless you sear a steak before you bake it. He''s red meat... sear before you...


    Dorian whipped like a sheet in the wind, once, then twice, twisting back to avoid an oncoming blow to his skull. Since they had names, they weren''t required to wear the leather padded helmets any longer, but Dorian was hating himself in that moment for not putting his on anyways. Barely getting out of the way in time, he lost sight of his opponent as he involuntarily shut his eyes. He started to lash out blindly until he had focus on his target again, and had to stutter step as his opponent was waiting for him to follow through. Dorian circled, thinking, watching his opponent¡¯s hips. Think damn you, he''s fast but it doesn''t last. Sear it before I bake it? What does that even-


    Dorian was back peddling quickly as the Kressian coiled to begin another onslaught of blows. Dorian wanted to have as much distance as possible so that burst of speed wouldn''t catch him unprepared. The man was an animal with a stick, hitting him so hard that he was sure his spine felt the vibrations from the blocks.


    Tender took a few deep breaths as he stared at Dorian, seeming... frustrated? Dorian was winded, sure, but his fire had plenty of Gwam left, he didn''t even consider burning reserves yet, not by a long shot. That¡¯s it!


    Kurt was fidgeting. His instincts were telling him he should be out there, not up where he was in the stands. He should be there, with his brother. The despair that filled him was because he knew he had absolutely no power in this situation. Teeth bared, he watched, holding his breath every other second.


    Dorian seemed to come to a conclusion. He took one step forward, stomping each foot as he did. He let out a hoot as each one came down. Taking a stance, he posed in his form which, Kurt had to admit, wasn''t half bad.


    Tender bellowed in a kind of acceptance to a challenge. He surged forward, but instead of dancing in and out, belting out blows as he went, he held his staff cross-ways as though defending a blow. They came close, much closer than a normal duelist would allow. As Tender took his stance, he mimicked Dorian, stomping his feet and barking a hoot out. Then they shouted in unison.


    They began bashing at each other, the sound of the wood clacking became a rapid staccato over the grunts of their attacks. They kept going, never altering their stance, never moving their feet. At first, Kurt was wondering what the hell was going on and said as much. His father, without looking away from the match said, ¡°that boy''s got brass nads to pull that.¡±


    ¡°Rand!¡± His mother shouted, but Rand kept going as though she hadn''t said a thing.


    ¡°That''s an ode to the ancients, that. The first serious Kressian revolt was after a tournament. One man, though talented, claimed he was snuffed from the opportunity to compete, said that he was kept for his responsibility to the people as their future leader.¡± Rand turned to look at Kurt before turning back to the match. All the while the staves clacked, and the sound echoed across the stands. ¡°Well, the people sided with the champion, he was one of their own. They had some heavy gaps between their leaders and the plebeians, and the people were tired of it. Finally, when things had gotten worked up and there was a mob, the future leader of the people challenged the other just as those two had, the leader figuring it would win over the people. Its a call, to make claim as strongest in the valley. It''s also a bit of blasphemy, because the King of Kresson is always the strongest of the Valley, which was a cultural trend set by that very event.¡±


    Kurt didn''t look away from the match, but said, ¡°Sometimes, you''re real weird.¡± You''re real weird Dad, was what he wanted to say, but he kept that to himself.


    ¡°By the Gods, are they still going?¡± His mother said. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°I don''t know.¡± Kurt muttered, though he noticed too late his mouth had been hanging open.


    Dorian was grinning like a Gods forsaken fool. That''ll sear any Kressian, Dorian had thought. Oh, it had. When the man lumbered over to stand against Dorian, he was certain he could feel the fucking ground quake beneath him. The first time their staves hit each other, Dorian had clapped his teeth for how hard the man hit. The first ten hits nearly ripped him out of his feet, every blow seemed to shrink Dorian down a foot at a time. He was downright desperate for a few moments there, his body acting without a thought, his will manifested without filter. His stomach lurched as blood filled his shoulders and chest, then it was the rhythm. It was the tempo. It was manageable. He could do this. Now we bake.


    Kurt nearly jumped out of his seat when he saw Tender lurching back. It wasn''t by much, but it was a beginning. His body posture shifted, and he was taking blow after blow rather than what it had been for more than two minutes. They should be falling over each other by now, what''s keeping them up?


    Kurt put himself out there for a moment, thinking of how he would feel in that situation. Then he knew.


    It could be desperation, but that wasn''t it. Not for the outcome, though Kurt was sure they would tell themselves that. It was a desire, a need to climb. We all have it, a dingle-berry attached to us from our animalistic ancestors, we need to strive. Whether it was conflict that strove our desire to prosper, or prosperity that drove our need to conflict, we simply can''t escape these trappings. Our instincts, for all the civilization there was around, still held sway in how people felt. And when some people are confronted by a well met foe, they balk and slink away, but those were not the people that stood toe to toe in the arena. No, Dorian wasn''t one of those.


    His arms were going to fall off. That was it, they were literally going to fall off his body and roll away. He had been numb for twenty seconds now, and only the repetitive motion had kept him going. The moment one of them did anything but one of these short ranged thrusts, the other would be cheated. If one of them did that, however, the Kressian''s might revolt right then and there. It was a touchy subject, as Jack had told him late one night. Dorian hadn''t thought much of it then, and only half remembered the story when the thought had struck him.


    ¡°You really want to piss off a Kressian?¡± Jack had said before relaying the tale of the first King of Kresson. It had come with a warning, and a suggestion that he shouldn''t do it in public, and if he fucked up the custom, he''d be fertilizer for their awful farmlands. Something about that was bitter when Jack said it. Dorian suspected some cultural trope about pointlessness. Like being turned into fertilizer for a land that can''t grow crops worth half a damn is still a better use of your life, or something of that sort. Kressians could be weird.


    Startled as he came out of his daydream, his opponent had budged. Dorian, realizing this, doubled down on his assault. Suddenly, Tender was falling back, Dorian pressing forward. Holy shit!


    His ¡°doubling down,¡± was closer to about one twentieth of his rested power, but it was enough. By the Gods, the man toppled back like a tree, fighting the whole way. When he finally took a step back the crowd thundered. Dorian locked eyes with his opponent, who had completely left his guard. He was slouched over, sweating profusely, and trying to steal all the air out of the Colosseum. Seeing this, Dorian''s arms dropped like a limp noodle, though his hands stayed firmly clamped to his staff.


    Breath, Dorian, just breath. That''s all there is, just breathing. Dorian opened his eyes, seeing his target. He surged.


    Kurt couldn''t believe it, somehow Tender was still giving it everything he had all the way down, but down he went. Well, more like backed down, but still, the moment was unreal. The build up to it was putting everyone at the edge of their seat, and when it happened, he thought the entire structure was going to fall apart. Whatever it was, the moment the first step back was taken, or the moment he fled gasping for breath, Tender was the one to lose the exchange. The chanting of his little brother''s name, his little brother''s name, was ranging everywhere, but the choir from the Monastery made his spine tingle. ¡°Do-re-an¡± they sang in near hymn, which made Kurt''s skin crawl.


    Gods, if we get this right, what''s going to happen anyways? Dorian, the next Grand Elder? At that thought, Kurt nearly sicked up. With the sound of the choir, it wasn''t impossible to see, which was exactly what made Kurt feel sick. More shivers ran up his spine before one of the duelists moved.


    They had been in a staring match with one another as they heaved for air. Shockingly, Dorian moved. It wasn''t at full speed, not by a long shot. They had both exhausted themselves completely in that display, it would take some time to catch your breath after something like that. Dorian was probably wagering that he had recovered more than his opponent at that time.


    At first, it looked like a mistake. Dorian had taken to the offensive, battering at his opponent who seemed to recoil and counter every attack. Then, every other attack. Then once in a while. Then Kurt caught a glimpse of Tender''s face, dread shone like sun beams breaking through the canopy of the wood. He was breaking.


    Dorian could see the man''s will beginning to bend, his exhaustion taking hold. Dorian still couldn''t really feel his arms, so much as he assumed that they were coming along for the ride. He was tired, but the series of attacks he flowed out with was one well practiced. His opponent could take one step out of sequence with the practice combination and Dorian would bite so hard that he''d lose a tooth, but his opponent hadn''t. Instead, he had taken all the blows sequentially, stubbornly, a refusal to back down once more. Dorian rounded on him, and thought he''d have this one in the books, when his opponent shouted.


    The man totally lunged forward, wholeheartedly believing he wouldn''t be skewered. Dorian pointedly didn''t but managed to poke him hard in the quadriceps with the blunted cap. Still, he came on, until Dorian was shortening the length of his staff to prepare for what the madman was trying to do. He wanted a rematch, Dorian guessed, and Dorian felt he would be a coward if he didn''t stand his ground against this kind of opponent.


    As their staves clashed for the first time, Dorian''s grip slipped on his left hand. His right hand was already midway up the staff when Tender held and began driving against Dorian. He thought he''d roll Dorian over, but Dorian''s feet were still solidly planted while he held a strong stance.


    The result was a lockup of sorts. Both of them committed at that point, if one of them had the energy left to twist away, they would have. Now they were stuck in a war of attrition. Dorian would shove harder, then Tender would follow. Their faces slowly grew closer as they both kept their feet, but Dorian''s grip was too wide. The amount of pressure being placed on Dorian''s stave was too much for how wide his hands were placed.


    Tender noticed this and drove down with all his considerable bulk, and Dorian was his with a sudden wave of fury. Not the kind he had experienced yesterday, he hoped. No, this was something else. The outrage, that he had come so far and the slip of his hand might decide whether or not he claims victory? He wouldn''t have it, he couldn''t. The stave was bending too far, it wasn''t that flexible. Fuck it, do what''s least expected. What else do you have to lose?


    Dorian shoved back, taking all his desire and pulling every last bit of energy from himself, he snapped like a whipcord. He felt it too, his legs and body coiling before movement carried from the ground through his body and forward. The result happened faster than either of them were prepared for.


    Tender surged forward, as did Dorian, after his staff had snapped. Where Dorian''s hand was, as the two forces came together, the blunted steel cap crashed forward with the support of Dorian''s extended arm. It was faster than blinking, a solid strike to Tender¡¯s jaw, all the weight of forty stones between them coming together in a heap of chaos. Somehow, miraculously, Dorian found himself standing alone. Then, a new blossoming pain made him replay the collision in his mind. As the Kressian''s staff followed through, he had more weight on the low side than Dorian had. His staff was still solidly supported by both hands and all his weight. The steel cap swiftly came down towards his shin. Dorian winced as fire shot from his right leg. He couldn''t help it, he shouted in agony as he dropped to his ass, clutching the damaged leg. Then the boom of the crowd came.


    He felt something for the first time, like a call to ascension. A concussive force of volume shuddered his vision, it seemed a new presence had invaded the arena ground. It wasn''t savage violence, no, but it had a grip on Dorian all the same. It felt intoxicating, the tears running down his face no longer for his leg. Somehow, shaking, he stood and held his fist high in triumph. The tears still spilling to the arena sands for the beauty and splendor sent through his body.


    The presence... it was pride, and in a way, it was glory. Basking in it felt better than warm sunlight drifting through leafless trees on a blustery leaf blown day.  Better than breaking the solemnity of a fresh snowfall. Better than...


    He knew then that he would have been consumed entirely if not for Ingrid. For all the elation he felt in that moment, all the ecstasy that filled him, even this wasn''t all that his love was. Some would be fooled, consumed by the sensation of this tainted ground, this blood stained earth. But, no, not Dorian. He felt this way at times with her, but would never trade what he had for this.


    Dorian snapped out of it as he realized he was just standing there, vapid expression on his face. He laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all.


    Even without the persuasive wards, he thought he''d enjoy that moment, and, by the Gods, it did feel good. Perhaps, and just the smallest perhaps I can imagine, but perhaps I am good enough.


    He smiled a smile he never had, full force and unrestrained. He limped away to the sound of his name, sang more than chanted now. The low ¡°Do-re-an¡± put a grin on his face he couldn''t put down, it was the cadence of things to come. Possibly the sound to which he would greet his own death. Either way, when the time came, he would meet it gloriously.


    Kurt watched astonished as Dorian limped his way across the arena grounds. The monks were there already, but he walked unaided. The Kressian Tender, well, he wasn''t doing as well. The crowd was cheering Dorian loudly enough to wake the dead. He winced from the headache ever so often as the crowd came back to the chant


    Gods, the crowd was so loud it was unreal. Which was odd, he normally loved crowds. There was a sensation to the crowd, a feeling he couldn''t describe well. Like he was better than all of them, which was such an out of place feeling that Kurt was sure there was something amiss. It wasn¡¯t just the hangover either, there was something pressing down on him, thick as smoke. Not wanting to be there any longer, Kurt hurried out of the nook. He didn''t even say anything to his parents, and they didn''t ask.


    Making it back to his rooms was a great relief. He kicked off his boots, leaped into bed and covered his eyes with a pillow. He still had a few hours to go before his first match. He had plenty of time to sleep off the rest of this hangover. Then, he would have his two matches back to back. There was an upside to going last today, after they came through left to right on the brackets, they''d sweep back through. He was happy about that, as it would save him the hassle of warming up twice. Cocky, he chided himself before drifting off softly.


    Quena was skulking about the outside of the Monastery front. The palace, as she saw it, was the grandest farce of the entire bullshit game the Elder was playing at. This was where the real priests, the representatives, were trained. It was also home to a few other oddities, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of two Arcanum guards standing at the front entrance. Bastards, each of them.


    She crept like a jungle cat, stalked silently along the sides of the massive building until she crept up to the front. She would have simply time dilated herself, but she feared they would sense it. There they were, steady as stone. She thought she recognized them, but knew better. The Elder would have found them new births since then, but perhaps she recognized something in their posture... oh, bugger all. Does it really matter?


    She knew that she couldn''t hold back if she were to succeed in this mission. She knew this more surely than she knew she was once one of them. Gritting her teeth, she slowed time to a crawl.


    This didn''t give her super-human speed, no. Time manipulation could kill you faster than anything else, especially if you extended it to your extremities. Instead, she wrapped the smallest bubble around her mind. External to oneself, it was always the shape of a bubble, but internally, one could twist the adjustment any way one willed. The problem was, you could literally rip your own bones out of your flesh if you covered too much. When she isolated the brain, however, she could make a few seconds feel like a few minutes, giving her plenty of time to react if one of them was quick enough.


    She summoned her Shade, a crescent moon, crafting the inside turn to be razor sharp. She took two stride, feeling like minutes passed, and hacked at the first oblivious man''s neck.


    It was best to behead another Priorius, best to keep them from pulling something tricky. Healing oneself was possible, however, the drain would leave you convulsing if you didn''t have a heart attack. She''d seen it before, though many that attempted it either a knack for it or was extremely well balanced in their affinities. Few other than the Elder himself had such perfect balance, and almost all of them died. Still, it was best not to take chances.


    Even before her crescent sliced cleanly, she was summoning more of her Shade. Pushing three veins of it through her hips and the middle of her back, she vaulted upward just as the first one''s head began to lift from his body.


    Spinning through the air, she hoped her opponent wouldn''t have the time to recover. As the apex of her descent came, she felt the second opponent, a woman, attempting to push telekenetically at her. Quena started to laugh, she wasn''t stupid enough to wear anything inorganic. Bits of rock floated passed her, some dust perhaps, but for the most part her opponents first reaction would be the only reaction allotted to her.


    As she descended, she pushed more of her Shade in to the crescent blade. As she came down with both hands, it cleanly parted the Arcanum member''s head down to the shoulder. Now the time came for the important bit.


    As quick as she could, she summoned the nearby stone. Most of the earth around her was just that, earth. Soil didn''t respond to stone Shaping, but there were always little bits to be had. She wanted to pull from the Monastery building, but thought better of that. He would notice.


    The thin discs that formed underneath each of the dead Arcanists caught them, not even an ounce of blood getting away. She lifted the stone discs, bringing the dead together and wrapping them entire. Their clots were still whole, if she tried to drain these two of their power she''d end up with two other people in her head. It was the most dangerous part of fighting other Priorius, you couldn''t siphon their corpses. Those gifted with a few primes, however, they were fair game. Too bad, she thought as she pulled enough stone through the earth to carve out a sizable hole. Quickly, she submerged the two now encased in stone, and did the best she could at making the area blend in. I hope you never get out, you bastards. Teach you to betray your own, by Metae''s will.


    Quena looked around quickly before heading inside. No witnesses.


    She flashed a stolen grin. She had spent too much time with that Hunt boy.

 Chapter 38 - Salvation Without Mercy

    ¡°He has found a good candidate, little one. He will still be weak for weeks to come, but I don''t think you should wait that long. It would have been so much easier if you had just tucked your chin, but I suppose you wouldn''t be you if you had. Blackened damn, between the two of you, you''ll be the death of me. I hope.¡±


    He smiled a smile that was catharsis incarnate, all the relief in the world could barely compare. Even seeing it on the monster in front of him, he felt happy for it.


    Dorian woke in the Temple of Metae, the pain throbbing in his leg said that it had been set, but no other healing had been administered. The curtain was drawn closed, thank the Gods, and he groaned as he looked down. ¡°Always, with the pants?! Can''t you people just leave my britches alone?¡± The extra volume he put in to the statement made his head throb.


    The curtain opened, Clarice smiling broadly.


    Dorian returned the smile, if a little pulled for the pain in his leg. ¡°What''s the verdict, doc?¡±


    Her brows bent in confusion for a moment, then registering the question, she sighed. ¡°It''s not great. The large bone in your shin, it''s fractured. I''ve set it, but the rules state you can''t have healing unless you concede. Since it wasn''t my decision to make, I''ve been waiting for you to wake up.¡±


    ¡°I meant my pants.¡± Dorian said, looking dubious.


    A moment passed and her mouth dropped open just a hair. ¡°You''re not at all bothered by the leg?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it''s a concern,¡± he said though only to give him time to think of a reply. ¡°But it can''t be helped. It''s broken, it hurts. I have one more match before I can be healed, so I''ll just have to win one match with a busted leg.¡± Dorian shrugged, though the sharp red hot pain was there, he could manage.


    ¡°Am I allowed anything to help with the pain?¡±


    She gave him a dangerous glare, so he chirped up quickly. ¡°Nothing that would affect my wits, of course.¡±


    ¡°Boy, if you had any to begin with, I''d still give you that look. Are you brave or stupid? It''s bro-ken. What part of that don''t you understand?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I understand all of it. Hey, how''s Tender, I assume he''s here.¡± Dorian asked, he had respect for Tender even if he was responsible for the broken leg.


    ¡°Came out better than you, loose tooth was about the worst of it. We healed him up and sent him on his way. He''s likely sleeping it off right now.¡±


    Dorian nodded, then returned to the subject. ¡°So, something for the pain?¡±


    ¡°I''ll make you a tea, but it should wear off before the match. How do you intend on keeping yourself up?¡±


    ¡°My staff broke in the last match... since I can''t bring anything but my clothes and my staff to the match, maybe check the rules and see if I can use the shorter part as a splint?¡±


    She paused a long time then, staring him over. He didn''t back down, despite his desire to do so. He held her gaze, set in his conviction.


    Kurt woke with an abrasive fear that he was late. He hopped out of bed, slid into his boots as fast as a jack rabbit running from wolves, and darted out the door. Judging by the sun, he wasn''t late late, but damn near. He idly noted that his headache was gone, which was a blessing he didn''t deserve for the evening he had the night prior.


    Waving the guards away as he came to the archway leading to the arena gate, one of them shouted, ¡°you better hurry up, lad! You''ve got less than ten minutes!¡±


    ¡°Yes, thanks, gotta go!¡± Kurt called back as he flew down the stairs. Half-way down, he felt something gripping him, an external emotion. Fucking Bacchus.


    He was quick to warm up, though he didn''t skip on certain stretches. He knew better than that, pulling a calf mid-match was a herald of doom as far as he was concerned. It wouldn''t fly at this level.


    Finally, as ready as he was going to be, he stood at the gates, waiting for the announcer to do what announcers do.


    Dorian was seated in a surprisingly comfortable position to watch over the upcoming matches. There weren''t many left for the day. He himself was going to the semifinals, though he hadn''t seen much of the one he''d be pitted against. His name was Bo Smith, a wiry combatant. He was the one that played with his opponents, the one that had set Dorian in an awful mood the evening before. He hoped that his opponent had suffered a few injuries as well. Dorian knew he wouldn''t be all too quick on his feet.


    He had been situated, with help from Clarice, in a private spot just above where he''d be descending. She had splinted his leg as he asked and was kind enough to swap the pointed cap for the blunt one. Each bit of his staff was elongated a bit, with some help from Clarice of course. She had linewood pulp ready nearby, as she said it, ¡°I think the staff was a bit short for you anyways, so if you show up with an extra few inches on either broken end, who''s to notice?¡±


    She was his savior, for the day at least. He could hobble well enough, though it hurt like seven hells every time he put the whole of his weight on it. It wasn''t perfect, but it would do. He just had to be careful of the steel spike that now protruded most of a foot above his knee. The position of the stint was such that it sat slightly to the outside of the knee, so if a blow came for his injury he could block most of the damage, but he''d have to be careful. He''d impale himself if he let himself fold inward.


    ¡°Dorian, I''m glad to see you.¡± Came a rasping voice from behind him.


    Turning, Dorian smiled. ¡°Gavin, glad to see you up. How are you feeling?¡±


    Gavin coughed once, then gingerly walked around Dorian''s propped up leg, taking a nearby chair. ¡°Oh, you know, could be worse.¡± He shrugged, ¡°I could be dead.¡±


    Dorian nodded stoically, then glanced down at the arena grounds. He was beginning to announce the first person of the match, someone from Kresson. ¡°Well, you could be, but I''m glad you aren''t.¡±


    ¡°Dorian, I-¡± he stammered before coughing again.


    ¡°Will the cough go away in time?¡± Dorian asked, concerned.


    Gavin nodded, gritting his teeth behind a fist he added, ¡°they healed me too much. Some of the blood coagulated, healed right on to my lungs. Eventually, I''ll cough it out.¡±


    Dorian nodded, ¡°good. Alexandria will need your support.¡±


    Gavin tilted his head, looking curious.


    ¡°You know, when I beat her in the finals.¡± Dorian grinned.


    Gavin laughed once before another coughing fit took him. Clearing his throat, he said, ¡°thank you, Dorian. I didn''t-¡±


    ¡°Don''t mention it.¡± Dorian said, still watching the other combatant lining up for his match. They were talking, Dorian could hear them as though they were ten feet away or so, but he didn''t pay it any mind.


    ¡°But, I feel I have to mention it, Dorian. I could have died if you hadn''t ran out.¡± There was a hallow look to his expression, but Dorian just shook his head.


    Originally he was going to say something along the lines of, ¡°you would have done the same for me,¡± but in retrospect he probably wouldn''t have. Instead, Dorain said, ¡°no, you would have been fine. The sick bastard was cruel, and I wasn''t going to stand by as one of my own had his life toyed with. Besides, if you keep mentioning it, everyone is going to think wrong of me.¡±


    ¡°Huh? How so? What you did was the kindest act anyone has ever shown me.¡±


    ¡°Well, you see, then everyone will be all kinds of confused when they find out I''m just a fat kid. I''m docile dough-rein. I''m selfish, lazy, and completely ill reputable.¡± Dorian smiled over at the other initiate. ¡°See, so don''t mention it. If you go around giving me a good reputation, I''ll only disappoint. Whereas now, if I do a good thing, people are surprised.¡± Dorian twisted his hands upward, showing his palms and shrugging. He turned to the match that was starting.


    As the match began and the duelists locked for the first time, Dorian heard Gavin mutter, ¡°whatever you say, Dorian. Thank you.¡±


    Dorian turned to the other boy, only to find he was gone. Balls. He''s not going to listen, is he?


    Dorian just smirked as he watched the two below. One of them would be facing Alex in a bit and hopefully losing thereafter.


    The Metian was obviously the greater skilled between the two. The Kressian wasn''t half bad though, and anyone could make a mistake when your heart was pounding so hard you thought your head might explode. There were several exchanges, of which Dorian expected there to be blood drawn. To his surprise, coinciding with a bit of pride over the gesture, two glinting points reflected the now dwindling sunlight below. They had both removed their pointed steel tips. It was a match of honor. Perhaps the pride had taken them too?


    Back and forth they went, but the Kressian took more than he dealt. The Metian moved with alacrity and accuracy, he moved between the forms oddly but before his strike he would resume perfect posture. Textbook, one would say, each execution of each strike flawless.


    There was a feel to doing a movement correctly. It was tough to synthesize it in training, the only way to get there was by way of sparring live, and even then, you weren''t looking for that feel, you were trying to keep your head on right. Resistance was only part of it, it was about training your mind not to blank when you weren''t sure what to do. After a time, it was instinctual. Dorian wondered how long this Metian, Kurtis Hunt, had been training to develop such deeply rooted instincts.


    The Kressian was good. Damn good at that, his technique was flawless, but his tactics left much to be desired. He was prone to overextend himself from time to time, especially in his defense, which was where Kurt took full advantage. After a while, he realized that he was getting much further by keeping his opponent on his heels. So, he pressed, and pushed, closed gaps when they opened, and dwindled his opponents guard down until Kurt finally opened him up. When he did, he left the Kressian gasping for air.


    Kurt was incredibly grateful for having run into the fellow the night prior. They had a few drinks and said they looked forward to beating the other on the sands. Inevitably, they had mutually decided that they would fight without luck, that skill should decide the victor.


    After landing several direct strikes to the meat of the upper arms and legs, and not halfcocked strikes either, the man was near dead on his feet. When his opponent was breathing heavy and holding an arm out for Kurt to relent, Kurt took his pose. The man bent knee, prospering his weapon towards Kurt. Kurt didn''t take it, instead, he held his guard and lifted the man''s weapon with his own. The man stood, bowed, and left the arena with his chin held high.


    The crowd didn''t seem to like that much, but Kurt could give a damn. He was here to fight, not to kill. It was an unnatural thing, killing, Kurt didn''t want to be involved in that if he didn''t have to.


    Grinning broadly, the announcer called for the first round of the semifinals while Kurt ran to his place. His last match for the day was against a very tall woman, Alex of the Monastery.


    Dorian limped his merry way down the stairs. The Kressian conceding was pretty much ceremonial by that point, he had been whooped soundly. Figuring it wise to get down there and test his shorter weapon a bit, maybe check his mobility while he was at it, he made his way down as soon as he saw the other pausing to catch his breath. He prayed to any god that would listen that Alex come out all right.


    Warming up was breathtaking. Most of his forms were shot, he couldn''t lunge either unless he led with his weak leg, which felt more awkward than leading with his broken leg. Well, he supposed he only had to deal with it for one match. He hoped he''d mop the floor with the skinny one, with luck he''d face Alex in the finals. Seeing how the Metian moved, his burst of speed and his accuracy in his strikes, Dorian had a bad feeling in his gut about it and knew it would be a tough fight. That isn''t to say that Alex would be any easier, just that he knew her tactics and could outmaneuver them. He watched as the bout began.


    Kurt led strong, coming straight on with his blunted cap. He had reattached his pointed end, and hoped he wouldn''t need to use it. Alex parried quickly, tried to counter but Kurt didn''t leave her much room to do so. Oh, she could try, but that would leave her even more extended. Wisely, she didn''t strike where she didn''t feel the opening was good enough.


    He had seen her a few times now, she was beautiful, for a giant. Giantess? Not as though it mattered, because despite her striking looks, she was tough as a mountain lion. Kurt came on again, this time throwing a feign with the back end of his staff before coming over the top hard, sending her off balance. He tried to optimize, but quick as a whip, she was back in a good position. Damn, she''s fast.


    Kurt kept moving though. Perhaps he could outstrip her, keep her moving, drain her down until more slips came. Perhaps, bait her?


    He mimicked the feign again, swinging hard then backing off. She had incredible reach, and before he knew it, he was the one dancing back and defending. She overextended herself in a thrust, to which Kurt parried and spun. He glanced the back of her heel with the blunt end of his staff, but despite it making contact it wasn''t strong enough to affect her in any way he could see. She popped back to a center position and circled him warily.


    Dorian was completely captivated by the match. This was good. The two of them were different enough in their tactics that you could plainly see how they were moving the fight in their own direction, but the techniques employed on the way were a grand spectacle. He smiled, despite the pain in his shin and his need to lean on the gate. He cheered for Alex at the top of his lungs.


    Is that traitor calling for my opponent? Kurt thought as he exited another round of exchanges. She had landed a solid strike against his dominant shoulder and had done so with the precision of a surgeon. His fingers were actually a bit numb, which meant she had found the nerve, though she hadn''t hit it hard enough to seriously hinder him, it was enough to know what caliber she operated at.


    Perhaps Dorian hadn''t learned all of his tricks from Kurt, after all. Kurt smirked as he came in for another exchange. He feigned the back ended strike again, then came low this time. It had tripped her up a bit, no more than a half second, but when you were toe to toe against another person, a half second might as well be the difference between life and death.


    His blow clipped past her attempted high parry, striking an ankle hard enough to send her back peddling with a limp. They had been at it for almost ten minutes now, and the sun was just about to dip over the horizon.


    Kurt was beginning to grow worried when the ground beneath them lit up a faint green. Nice touch he thought as he circled.


    ¡°Would you wipe that fucking grin off your face!¡± Alex called at him.


    ¡°Not unless you agree to go on a date.¡± Kurt said, smiling broadly. He was only half joking, she was rather nice to look at. Not to mention they''d have a common interest, but he doubted she''d go for it.


    She looked him over, then roared, taking to an aggressive routine that left Kurt on the back of his heels though he didn''t back up. If he did, she''d have him far enough off his base that he might not recover.


    He parried back and forth, landing strikes as they went. She had struck him once, a pointed blow to his upper thigh, though with the adrenaline and the crowd, it might as well have been a scratch. He had tagged her six times in the exchange to her one, and she had to be feeling it by that point. Kurt still hadn''t taken a step back.


    She backed off enough to give them some space, then screamed in pure frustration. Kurt knew it was frustration, knew it in his bones. He had that effect on woman.


    Kurt moved forward, but swapping his pointed side for the blunted cap. When he moved to feign the strike like he had countless times now, she was ready. Her body moved without her say-so, exactly what he had been waiting for. Instead of a feign, he put all of his weight behind the strike. She had her staff in the wrong position to take a blow like that, the result was her staff flying out of her hands to rest on the arena grounds. Stunned, the crowd grew quiet.


    Kurt held the point out to her neck. ¡°Concede, for the love of the Gods.¡±


    She glared hard at him and took a step in to point. Kurt backed it away, exclaiming, ¡°are you trying to kill yourself. Don''t be an idiot!¡±


    The look on her face told Kurt that she was very intent on being an idiot. She stepped again, so Kurt followed. The next time she stepped, Kurt had had enough. He pulled back and she lunged for her weapon, so Kurt deftly swept her feet out from under her. If only I could reproduce that effect romantically.


    Just as she turned her head to look at him, he struck her hard to the side of the head. Not as hard as he could, he could have brained her, but hard enough that she wouldn''t be getting up any time soon. The crowd was quiet as Kurt leaned over to check for breath. Oh Gwendos, God of light, be merciful.


    He bent down and picked her up. She was heavy for a woman, impressed, Kurt realized it was mostly muscle. The crowd began to boo and shout.


    ¡°What?!¡± Kurt shouted to the crowd, and they grew quiet. ¡°Is blood what you want? Is that what you need? We in the Wilds have had enough blood in six months to outstrip a century on the sands. We in the Wilds remember what our Mother Metae taught us. Death is natural, killing to eat is natural. Murder is not! If any of you need that reminder, just head south! There''s plenty there in my kingdom that can show you death!¡± With a snarl, he headed towards the monks that were already running out to the injured competitor.


    As Kurt handed the unconscious woman to the monks, someone in the stands shouted, ¡°mercy! Mercy from the king!¡±


    The crowd erupted in laughter. Then slowly a chant started, a chant that was echoed most loudly by the Kressians. ¡°King-Kurt-King-Kurt-King-Kurt¡± they called together. Kurt bowed with a bit of a flourish, then jogged off the sands back to the Metian''s gate.


    Unfortunately Bo was there. Kurt tried to ignore him, but Bo just couldn''t leave well enough alone.


    Chuckling, he said, ¡°King Kurt.¡± He laughed uproariously for a moment. Kurt put his staff up and looked sideways at the lanky man. ¡°Aye, that''s what they''re saying.¡±


    ¡°No worries, the burden of the crown won¡¯t be yours for long. Once I''m done killing this one, you''ll be next.¡± He smiled wickedly at Kurt.


    ¡°What the fuck is your problem, Bo? Huh?¡± Kurt began walking towards him, his blood was up and he wasn''t thinking, but he was sick of this twisted bastard. ¡°Daddy not love you enough? Did your mommy not breast feed you, huh? What in the fuck did we ever even do to you?¡±


    Now Bo looked savage. ¡°You''ve got no right. My family, my family, were the ones to start that outpost, were the reason you fucking Hunts have what you need. That is my heritage that your family stole, and I''ll have it back before the end of this. And I''ll spill every drop of blood I can on the way, so the swine remember their place.¡±


    At first, Kurt just stared. All the while, the chant of ¡°King Kurt¡± continued to echo across the stone walls. When his anger and grown too great, he let it out in bitter words. As he turned and walked away, Kurt said, ¡°may my brother take his vengeance this day. May no price you pay be high enough.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Kurt heard Bo calling out to him as he walked off. ¡°Your brother? No, you can''t mean...¡± As Kurt took the stairs, he heard Bo laughing hysterically. Kurt thought that by the end of this match, Bo wouldn''t be laughing quit so openly, if at all.


    ¡°Is she going to be okay?¡± Dorian asked the monks as they ran passed.


    ¡°Yeah, just knocked out. She put up a good fight though, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah she did.¡± Dorian replied grimly.


    Dorian satisficed himself with the knowledge that she had given it her all, even if her damn pride nearly got her killed.


    When the time came, Dorian didn''t know if he could stand another moment of, well, standing there. He needed to move, even if the needles of fire running through his leg throbbed every step, he had to. The crowd was chanting his name already, the rhythm became his gate, and the pace of his breath. His opponent was there, smiling?


    This wasn''t the twisted smile of a sick man, or the arrogant smile of someone about to thrash you. No, this was the smile of someone that knew something you didn''t. Dorian scowled.


    ¡°Blessed be the blood that stains this ground, for it shall bring our redemption,¡± came the announcer. Dorian still didn''t know who it was, which was really starting to bother him. Even a distant brother or sister would be explanation enough, but honestly, Dorian didn''t recognize a single thing about him.


    ¡°Begin!¡± The announcer boomed, and the crowd erupted.


    Dorian leaned heavily on his broken weapon, leaving it slanted, it became his pivot point. He let Bo do the stalking, if he had to turtle his way through a match, he figured, then he''d do what he had to.


    Bo came in quick, lightning quick, but Dorian knew the signs. The twitch of a shoulder and twist of a hip before the strike. Even if the strike was faster than Dorian could follow, he could defend against it.


    Parrying the blow, and nearly falling over, Dorian kept his eyes on his opponent. He stepped in, feigning a strike then stepped back out. He did this several times, glaring in between.


    ¡°No surprise you don''t move much better as an adult.¡± Bo mocked before striking several times. Dorian''s defense was solid, though his mobility was all but lost. He had to patient, wait for his opportunity...


    ¡°Come on then. You might look different, but under all that you¡¯re still a fat fuck.¡± Bo said scornfully.


    Dorian did his best not to be goaded into something stupid. ¡°Coming from a human sapling, I''m not all too offended.¡± Dorian smirked.


    ¡°Arrogant shit, I''m glad your family will watch you die!¡± He shouted before he came on. Bo committed fully to the attack, everything about him a blur as he thrust forward, followed for a side swipe, moving in to a back ended thrust to Dorian''s chest.


    Lucky enough, it was the blunted end, but still, it hurt like hell. He stumbled back sucking air and nearly tripped for the pain in his leg. For a moment, when the attacks were coming in, he forgot all about it. Now that the moment had passed, it was all throbbing and searing agony.


    What made it all worse was that Dorian''s range was still very short, he could defend well enough, but Bo was cautious enough to keep to that middling range where he could strike at Dorian, but Dorian couldn''t retaliate for it.


    Bo was blathering something at him, but Dorian couldn''t be distracted by his bullshit. ¡°Would you just shut up!¡±


    Bo moved, like a flash, he came in striking a diagonal swipe for Dorian''s face. Dorian sidestepped it and winced as he put too much weight on his bad leg. When Bo followed the swipe by letting go of his staff with one hand and soundly punching Dorian in the jaw, Dorian went down in a heap. It wasn''t that the blow was damaging, Ingrid hit harder than that, it''s that the blow was unexpected. Having to take the blow, his leg buckled, and he found himself on the ground.


    Blindly he thrust his weapon up in defense. He felt the first blow come down, but the second was a thrust that caught his side. It punctured deep, though how deep, he wasn''t sure. Without a doubt, however, he was going to begin losing a lot of blood. Fuck.


    Dorian rolled back to his feet, backing away a half step at a time once he got there. Bo came in again, laughing and saying something. The roar of the stadium was too loud to hear the other combatant, but Dorian knew he was throwing insults. Dorian defended the attacks, but heard Bo say, ¡°I''ll gut you here you pig, and your brother next. You hear me, Cook? Your Godless house will begin and end with you. The Hunts come next.¡±


    Smoldering, Dorian kept his guard but said, ¡°you don''t know me. If you''re half as dumb as you look, then you''re mistaken. If you are as dumb as you look, you''ll keep running your fucking mouth. If I wanted to listen to a stupid bitch prattle, I''d take your mother out again.¡± Oh, now who''s running their mouth? Dorian chided himself.


    ¡°You,¡± he strode in, ¡°fat,¡± swiping at Dorian, ¡°disgusting,¡± Dorian blocked the first attack, but another back ended one came at his face. Dorian barely recovered in time, limping back. ¡°Boy, I''ll tan your mother''s hide-¡± Dorian yelped as he had to move out of the way of another attack.


    Bo was snarling now, Dorian had hit a nerve. ¡°Maybe your mother wouldn''t be so lonely if your father wasn''t running about town, finding all the sheep.¡± Crass, Dorian. Come on, you can do better than that.


    Bo¡¯s breathing deepened, his pupils wide as his smile twisted into something ugly. The sneer dropped from his lips, leaving only raw malice. ¡°I''m going to kill you, Dorian. Right here in front of these people, and they''ll cheer me for it.¡± His smile was twisted with mockery, Dorian didn''t like that. He was beginning to feel fear, truly and honestly. Having seen the cruelty of this man, Dorian didn''t trust he''d simply lose here. No, if he lost, he''d die.


    The fear felt like an off-key instrument in the distance. It was new and juxtaposed to the sensation he''d been pressed against. The countered emotion stood out in Dorian''s head, and he remembered the Technum that surrounded the arena. The runes likely inscribed to the very floor he stood upon. He stopped resisting it, his will giving way. He knew what would happen when he did, the absolute loss of control he would feel. He also knew if he didn¡¯t try another way, he would die. Dorian let go of his resistance to the influence and immediately regretted it. A moment passed, the walls caved in, and something else¡­ something older¡­ tried to take over. He fought with all the attention he could spare.


    Kurt was watching the match so intently that he couldn''t recall the last time he had blinked. Dorian''s obvious limp and lack of mobility had impacted the match heavily. Dorian was left to the defensive as Bo took him apart piece by piece. Suddenly, Dorian surged forward. His limp was still there, but much less exaggerated.


    They met and Dorian took the exchange by slashing open Bo''s upper thigh. Dorian was bleeding heavily from a strike earlier, but now it seemed things were a bit more leveled. Bo didn''t stall, however, and came in with a series of strikes that put Dorian on his bad leg more than once. Dorian didn''t fall over, though he nearly had. As Bo moved in, their staves met oddly, lined up parallel to each other. As Bo twisted away, he came free with Dorian''s staff.


    Dorian fell to the floor, something was wrong. Dorian coughed and blood flowed from his mouth. Just as the cough ended, Bo wheeled, hitting Dorian on the side of the head with the blunted end of both staves. It didn''t seem to have the same effect Bo was hoping for, perhaps the stick of a man wasn''t strong enough to swing two? It didn''t matter, because Bo just laughed out loud. Taking long strides away, he left Dorian swaying on his knees. Dorian was bleeding out of an ear now.


    Bo strutted about in a broad arch, the crowd cheering as he did. Taking Dorian''s staff, my staff, he placed a knee at its center. Pressing downward, the loud crack that sounded throughout the Colosseum made Kurt cringe. This looked very bad.


    Breaking Dorian''s staff, Bo tossed the two halves between them. Dorian saw double for a moment there and nearly blacked out. Now, however, he wasn''t in the best of shape. His leg had shifted in a way it shouldn''t, and he felt wet slick running down his face and neck. He felt heavy. Like the world really was resting on his back. He wanted to sleep, to close his eyes and let it go.


    No, Dorian, not yet! Reach deep, for the love of the Gods, and do something! Anything!


    Bo circled, and Dorian crawled for his broken weapon. He laughed watching Dorian for a bit, then turning to the crowd, he raised his staff and roared in triumph. Gloating, he pumped his raised arm a few times, reveling in the attention from the crowd.


    Please, by the Gods, I can''t lose this... I can''t let them down, I''ll do anything...


    Desperate, Dorian searched his reserves of strength, only then realizing how exhausted his will was. He was resisting the pull of those runes, resisting still, even if he was affected by them he was still resistant. He felt the temptation, the pull of Technum, and knew the endless reserves of energy there.


    Anything? He asked himself as he swallowed down his gorge. Surer than he felt, he answered himself. For Ingrid, for the possibility of a future? Yes... I¡¯ll do anything.


    Steeling himself, Dorian drank on that energy, filled himself to bursting and more. It was bile and wrath... and it was pure elation. Dorian felt good, entirely too good. By letting down his guard he had found more strength, sure, but the overflow of energy made him drunk on power. He tried to slow the onset of it, but like a dam breaking to the storm, he couldn''t stop the flow. The last thing he thought before he was fully enthralled by the technum was, Gods, please, let me not regret this.


    Just as Bo was beginning to turn, Dorian moved. He bounded once, and half-rolled half-collapsed over himself. The barrel roll wasn''t the most elegant, but it worked. Meanwhile, Bo noticed the movement thrust out towards Dorian. He wasn''t expecting the roll, though, and as Bo clipped something under Dorian''s arm, Dorian was able to scrabble inward past the weapon.


    Dorian wrapped Bo''s upper arm, the one holding the spear, with his own. With the foot and a half long wooden staff, closer to a baton, Dorian stabbed for all he was worth at Bo''s face. Dorian had grabbed it high, and used the steel cap much like he might use his fist. The first strike was brutal, caving in Bo''s gritted teeth. Hanging on for all he was worth, Dorian fired back again and again.


    Bo''s mouth was streaming blood now, he was trying to say something but the lack of teeth and recent damage kept him from it. Dorian hadn''t realized that he had left his bracelet on until that moment. Until the moment that Bo''s blood leaked on to it.


    As Dorian came back for another blow, his leg gave completely. He buckled, losing grip on his weapon, he fell forward. Having hooked Bo''s upper arm, Dorian was leaning completely on Bo by this point. His head spun, he was exhausted, beaten, bleeding, and broken. And yet, his body moved, unbidden. Then he started hearing the Metian¡¯s thoughts-


    ¡°What has he done to my mouth?! My mouth! My teeth!¡± Dorian heard in his head. The bracelet? Dorian wondered as he grabbed on to the back of Bo''s head. He didn¡¯t know what his body was doing, and was forced to watch.


    With his one good leg, he arched his back as he sunk his hook deeper Bo¡¯s arm. Then he knew what he was going to do, and for all his worth, fought against it. He also knew that if his body didn¡¯t obey, he¡¯d die. Knew, because the Technum of the Colosseum demanded it. His arms moved on their own, his body following a rhythm that wasn¡¯t his. The pressure in his chest was unbearable, panic, revulsion, but also something else. Hunger. Satisfaction. The Technum hummed through him, drowning out every rational thought, demanding more, more, more.


    He pulled Bo''s face inward as Dorian tucked his chin, bashing Bo''s face in and leaving him dazed. Light headed, Dorian dropped to a knee, pulling Bo down with him. Bo tried to pull back, but Dorian had grabbed his own arm with the one that had hooked onto Bo, locking them in position. Bo was stuck fast.


    Bo surged harder and harder, Dorian only held his eye as he lowered, unable to look away. He reeled against the Technum, fought it, but his will was broken, he had given in and this was the cost. His guts twisted as he noted the desperation in Bo''s movements, the struggle of a fish on land, flailing for all he was worth. Inch by inch they lowered together, Dorian could hear the man shrieking in his head. The shrieking changed as he spotted the metal spike jutting upward from Dorian''s knee. Dorian lowered, forcing Bo down with him. Bo jerked violently against Dorian''s grip, but there was no stopping Dorian¡¯s bulk or his grip.


    ¡°Ri-conthee¡± he said, now crying. Though Dorian heard what he meant in his head, he didn''t stop. He couldn''t stop, he was a prisoner in his own mind. Cold now, his fire out, his exhaustion absolute. ¡°I concede! I concede! Please, Gods, no, please! I concede!¡±


    The softest shake of Dorian''s head sent the message, and Bo jerked harder and harder as he came closer to his end. Now weeping openly, blood gurgling out of his mouth as he wailed, yet Dorian continued to lower his opponent''s head down. He felt as the sharp point penetrated underneath Bo''s chin. Felt the fear, the terror, then the pain as the spike drove through his mouth, then through the top of it. The shrieking and wailing grew until all Dorian could make out was the frantic buzz of a cruel man pleading for mercy.


    Finally, the shouting in Dorian''s head ceased. The last thing Bo saw was Dorian¡¯s eyes. Not triumphant. Not vengeful. Just¡­ empty. Then, the light faded, Bo¡¯s body going limp. The jerks his body made were autonomous reactions, spasms, as the body didn''t understand that the brain was dead. When it stopped convulsing, Dorian stared for a long moment. No, Gods, no! What am I? What have I become?


    The suction sound that Bo''s head made as Dorian lifted it off his knee made him want to vomit.


    Dorian had kept the man''s eye the entire time, he wasn''t sure if it was the right thing to do either for Bo or himself. Still, it was done. All it cost was my humanity...


    Kurt watched in horror as his little brother murdered Bo. Not that Bo didn''t deserve it, and perhaps Dorian figured that if he didn''t kill Bo, Bo would kill him. Regardless, it was disturbing in the extreme. Monks were rushing on to the arena, one checked Bo and shook his head. Four monks had to help Dorian get up and begin walking out of the sands, weaving back and forth as they did.


    ¡°Blessed be the blood that stains these sands! We have our second finalist, Dorian Hook!¡±


    The chanting began then, the ominous chant that sent chills up Kurt''s spine. ¡°Do-re-an¡± they called, though Dorian couldn''t be bothered. He was all too beaten at that point.


    ¡°With the finalists decided, our Grand Elder has an announcement. Please, hold for your dinner, it will be served promptly. Your holiness.¡± He gestured to the largest balcony, a thin ledge that extended from the balcony where a dais rested. The decrepit old man walked slowly there.


    ¡°That was the last fight I shall see with these eyes. Thank you, Dorian, for giving such a marvelous display. Please, a round of applause for the champion of our Monastery.¡± The crowd applauded.


    "Tonight, I speak to the Gods one final time. Tonight, I pass on the gift that binds me to them, the essence of who I am. My successor shall inherit this bond, standing closest to the Gods, as I have. Do not judge him by his stature, judge him by his faith, his purity. He is the purest of the Valley, the only one deemed worthy. More worthy than even I was when I took this mantle.


    Blessings be upon the House of Tanners. Blessed be those who sacrifice in the name of others. Blessed be our new Elder, Kennith Tanner."


    The Grand Elder raised a frail hand. From the sea of monks, a boy stood. Small, barely more than a child, yet now a figure of reverence. Dressed in white, his face was pale, his expression hesitant. His image loomed across the Colosseum¡¯s great displays, and for a moment, silence reigned.


    After the cheering subsided, Kurt thought he heard something.


    ¡°Ken! No!¡± It was bestial, like the sound of a mother bear finding her cubs slaughtered. Out of the gate it came, from below on the sands. Was that Dorian?


    ¡°No! You can''t have him! Keeeeeen! Noooo! Don''t do-¡± It quieted. Kurt watched as Dorian walked, broken leg and all, with three monks on his back, onto the arena grounds. One had put a hand over Dorian''s mouth. Dorian''s eyes, Dorian''s eyes were shining so bright that Kurt had to shield his own. Then abruptly, Dorian was on the ground and being dragged. One of the monks deftly stuffed a cloth inside the lining of his robe. What in the world?


    Quena had been waiting too long. Long enough that exhaustion nearly claimed her. She could have practiced some Shaping, something to pass the time, but doing so might give her away. So she waited. Stifled her impatience. Forced herself still. Whatever it takes to be free. Even if it means being confined for now.


    She waited. Nothing happened. After another ten minutes, the stone shifted again. This time voices were audible to her.


    ¡°Yes, my son. It will be all right. Come along, I need you to lay down right here.¡±


    ¡°Here? Like this?¡± The second voice was high, a youth. Her stomach churned.


    ¡°Yes, that''s perfect. Now remember, when the light touches you, you must surrender completely. It is imperative, do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yes, yes Grand Elder.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    The chamber began to shake shortly after. Small modes of Shade started wafting through the air, spinning as it went. Then more. It didn''t behave like Shade should, this was different. It moved in a way a Shade shouldn''t, like it had a life of its own. Then, more blackness began to whirl around the chamber, she almost gasped if not for the quenching fear she felt. A brilliant light burst forth, so bright that she had to look away.


    The laughter came. At first light and high-pitched, then deeper, twisted with something far worse than amusement. Quena dared a glance.


    The boy in white stood over the old man now, grinning wildly, drool sliding down his chin. Then, without hesitation, he shot a vein of Kraken forward, puncturing the old man''s skull. The splatter painted his robe red, the corpse sliding limply across the etched stone. The boy never stopped smiling.


    The circular platform, etched with more intricate runes than she had ever seen, was beginning to lift and tilt. The body slid the length of it, blood smearing across the circular floor. She lunged forward pulling hard on her Shade and placing a crescent shaped wedge between the platform and the floor that supported it.


    To her surprise, another bit of Shade rested at the other end. The shape was of a line that had bent upon itself and had twisted. Like a piece of string had been grabbed from its center and had been twisted three times.


    ¡°Ingrid?¡±


    ¡°Quena? By the Gods, what are you doing here? Shouldn''t you have ascended?¡±


    Ingrid looked perturbed about something, she always wore that brow heavy like that when she was worried, which she almost always was.


    ¡°Yes, and you should be at the Colosseum. What do you think-¡± Quena cut off as Ingrid moved to jump down. Leaping forward, Quena was able to grab her before she fell down. That would be bad.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Ingrid shoved at Quena, and Quena shoved back.


    ¡°You don''t know you''re doing, now get out of- Whoa!¡± Ingrid had jerked in such a way as to pull them both down. They hit the brittle floor together, the sparse padding of dust and dirt their cushion. The countless bones helped a bit, but they were all so brittle that she may as well hoped needles would break her fall. Then, it happened, exactly as she thought it would. The light of life surged forward, and every memory of every vessel to the Grand Elder flashed through her mind. Every last one. Twenty five thousand years of madness, of betrayal, and of pain.


    They climbed out of the false Monastery in silence, but silence wasn¡¯t enough to hold the weight of what they had seen. They had lived through the memories of it¡¯s vessels, each person trapped in their own bodies, praying for death. She had felt every agony, every betrayal. The weight of twenty-five thousand years pressed against their chests, so vast, so unbearable, that they could do nothing but walk.


    Ingrid wiped at her face, but the tears kept coming. Quena clenched her fists. Swallowed back the sobs. They had no words. There were no words for that kind of pain.


    What happened, as Gia can only follow the path of life, it can''t pass through non-living substances, such as stone. As she suspected, the crazy bastard didn''t even want a single memory out that might subvert his long-term goals. He didn''t want his secrets to be picked up by someone drawing on the local Gia.


    The problem with holding it all together was that it formed a clot, a temporary shape, as if guided by an unseen hand. It could jump, in a way, provided it had somewhere to anchor itself. Even dust would do. There was no upper limit to how much Gia an organic compound could hold. After being contained for so long, it was restless. Desperate. Like something alive, it clawed for release, latching onto the first opportunity it found. The two girls had been that opportunity.


    It had been Quena''s intention all along, though as the memories passed through her mind, she became aware of how dire the circumstance was. There was indeed an entire world out there, and if this thing, Bacchus, got out, that world would be destroyed. She had one night left, she knew his plan. Likely, Ingrid was feeling the same thing.


    As they approached the Colosseum, Ingrid finally spoke. ¡°He knows something is afoot. You understand that, right?¡± Her voice sounded drained.


    ¡°Yes, but we''re safe for the night.¡±


    ¡°What are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°Tonight, I either give myself something to feel or I end it.¡± There wasn''t any humor in Quena''s voice as she said it.


    Ingrid flinched. She didn''t turn, but Quena could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way her breath caught. After a moment, Ingrid whispered, ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°After the last match, I think, that''s the time to strike. I''ll find you in the early afternoon. Do you know who will be fighting?¡±


    ¡°Dorian made it, though he was in bad shape before I left. He was the one to warn me of, well, whatever it was that happened.¡± Reaching a hand in to her tunic, she tossed Quena a memory crystal.


    ¡°I don''t need it anymore.¡± Ingrid said. Without farewell, she began leaving. "Who''s the other finalist?"


    Ingrid stopped. For a long moment, she didn¡¯t answer. Then, just before walking away, she murmured, ¡°a Metian. Kurtis Hunt.¡±


    Then she was gone.


    Kurt stumbled through the halls, bottle of strong liqueur in hand. Why did these hallways get all wavy. It''s entirely too much of a bother. Though, it is fun.


    Kurt smiled drunkenly to himself as he finally came to his room. The halls were dark, but hunting at night had always been a simple transition for him, walking the halls in equivalent darkness was hardly an issue, sauced or not.


    Opening the door, he nearly shit his pants. Really, if he had to at that point in time he certainly would have. Moder was standing there at the far end of the chamber.


    ¡°Hello, Squire. Tomorrow, you earn your valor.¡± He wheezed. He never looked good, but tonight Moder looked particularly bad.


    ¡°What''s wrong?¡±


    Moder waved him away. ¡°I think he would have woken tonight, had he been whole, but they drugged him. He''s fine, fully healed in fact, and I''ve have gone to him myself if I could manage. He doesn''t remember me, not really. I''ve made contact in his dreams, but that''s not your concern. This is, however.¡± Stepping forward, Moder placed Kurt''s staff in front of his couch.


    ¡°My staff?¡±


    ¡°A replica. Listen, the last part of him will not meld unless he accepts it. As a last resort, make him. If you need to. Ideally, you make him aware of himself. If you can break through to him, somehow.¡± Moder spasmed, letting out a grating, painful sound. ¡°That needs to be touching his flowing blood, whatever block he''s put up its strong. Ohmer is ready, he is ready, I need you to get your Brother this last piece.¡± A long pause, ¡°even if you must force him. Have faith, K-k-Kurt.¡±


    Moder sauntered passed Kurt, his skin sagging. He wasn''t a pretty thing to put his eyes upon, but tonight he looked so much worse. ¡°Thank you, Moder. I wish that things were, well, simple.¡±


    ¡°Nothing is as simple as you, Squire. By the way, do be sure to pay heed to the lady in your washroom. She seems all too distraught.¡± Lady in my washroom?


    ¡°I''ll do that. Wish me luck for tomorrow.¡±


    Staring vapidly, Moder said, ¡°I won¡¯t wish you luck for the morrow. You won¡¯t need it. I have faith in your abilities with a weapon.¡± He paused, then added, ¡°but good luck tonight.¡± Kurt watched as the pale figure seemed to disappear in the darkness, not sure if Moder was coughing or laughing. Ass.


    Closing the door and kicking off his boots, he headed towards the washroom. Unsure, he knocked once, then entered anyways.


    Quena was there, tears streaming down her face. Kurt''s face went slack, unsure as to what to do. He had never seen her cry.


    ¡°Quena? What''s wrong?¡± She was on the floor next to a sink. He sat across from her, only then realizing he had the liqueur in his hand still. He offered it to her.


    She looked at it, looked at him, then snatched the bottle. She turned it upwards and took several long swallows. ¡°Oh,¡± she coughed, ¡°Kressian.¡±


    ¡°They''re not a bad lot.¡± Kurt shrugged. ¡°You all right? I haven''t seen you-¡±


    She was shaking her head. ¡°No, Kurt, I''m really not all right.¡± Her eyes shined against the light green lighting that ran through the ceiling.


    ¡°Can I do anything to help?¡±


    ¡°Help me up, for starters?¡±


    Kurt nodded and helped her to her feet. He was a bit tired after he had been healed, but it wasn''t enough to put him under. She collapsed into his chest, instinctively, Kurt held her.


    ¡°Come along, it''s been a long day.¡± He murmured as he walked her out of the washroom. He set her on his bed, then moved a few pillows from the bed over to the large couch.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± She asked, for some reason Kurt felt like he was doing something incredibly stupid.


    ¡°I figure you can have the bed?¡± It came out as a question. Why had it come out as question?


    Taking a long drink, she put the stopper on. ¡°There''s a gentleman in there, somewhere, isn''t there?¡± She asked, looking him over.


    ¡°Somewhere.¡± He said, trying to tell himself he wasn¡¯t sure where this was going.


    ¡°Kurt, if you had any idea what I''ve been through tonight, you''d understand. Since you don''t, I''ll say it plain.¡± She stood, wobbling slightly, she walked to him. Holding his eyes, she leaned in and kissed him.


    Stunned, he didn''t move. ¡°Quena, I can''t, I-¡±


    ¡°I need to remember why it¡¯s good to be alive. Or I won¡¯t make it.¡± She whispered, her breath unsteady. Then, soft yet desperately, ¡°Save me, Kurt. Just for tonight.¡±


    For all the ways he had convinced himself that he didn¡¯t want her, that he missed her sister instead, he scorned himself a fool. He saw that it would be unfair to Quena, and unfair to her sister¡¯s memory, to hold such a belief. He had built a wall of steel in his mind and locked his emotions behind it. But the moment her words touched his mind, that wall rusted, cracked, and crumbled into dust. When it fell, the flood came.


    A need surged through him, relentless, overwhelming. A need unlike any he had ever known. He needed her like a drowning man needed air, like a starving plant reaching for the sun. He needed to be her sky, the place where her warmth could rise and fall, the place where she could rest.


    He needed the press of her thin lips, the curve of her elegant face beneath his hands, the warmth of her throat beneath his fingertips. He needed the sound of her gasp, needed to know that she reciprocated his want.


    Her beautiful brown eyes glowed in the dim reflection of the Giastone lights, pulling him under, pulling him into her. Then, he was lost, drowning in the splendor of her touch.

 Chapter 39 - Fallen Champion

    ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool! It is time to die! Stand where you fell, greet the end with open arms! It is too late, little Dorian! There is no return, only the black gate yawns before you! Meet your death with honor, for it will not wait another day!¡±


    The voice was not a voice at all. It was layers of sound, grinding, whispering, a chorus of bones scraping across stone. The laughter followed, wet, splintering, endless. It skittered across his thoughts, threading through his mind like cracks spreading through glass.


    It reverberated, folded in on itself, doubled, tripled. A sickly creaking, a splintered echo that grew and grew until it wasn''t a sound anymore, it was the weight of something pressing down, suffocating, real.


    Ingrid was shaking him. Then she slapped him. ¡°Dorian, get up, get up!¡±


    Dorian groaned, turning over and opening his eyes. He saw Ingrid there, half worried and half alarmed. He smiled.


    ¡°You know, you''re beautiful when your flustered.¡±


    ¡°Gods, I could strangle you! You scared me half to death!¡± She said, eyes widening.


    ¡°What did I do?¡± He asked, feeling foggy.


    ¡°Oh, it doesn''t matter now.¡± She glared, taking a long breath and letting it out through her nose. ¡°That memory crystal, why didn''t you show me earlier?¡±


    ¡°Oh, shit. You didn''t, did you?¡±


    ¡°You were screaming when they put you down yesterday. You were pulling three priests into the arena, and I don''t know how, but I''m sure you had your eyes up. Dorian, do you remember anything?¡±


    ¡°I think I won my match, didn''t I?¡± He thought for a moment, looking around his room. A mass of flowers had been placed at one end of the room, and he smiled again.


    ¡°Oh, shit. I totally forgot, did you like your flowers?¡±


    She scowled for a moment, looked over to the flowers, then reluctantly smiled. ¡°Yes, they''re marvelous. Thank you.¡± Dorian thought she might be turning sweet before her expression changed again. ¡°Do you have any fucking clue what I did to save Ken? Do you have any idea what I had to go through...¡± Her eyes were going wet, which confused Dorian to no end.


    ¡°What about Ken?¡± Dorian said softly, as dread began filling the lower part of his guts.


    A long silence passed before Ingrid spoke, though by the time she did, she didn''t have to. Dorian knew.


    He could hear the words before they were said. His eyes were watering when she spoke the words, ¡°he''s not Ken any more, Dorian. He''s the Elder now. Dorian,¡± she put a hand on his, ¡°he''s gone.¡±


    He snapped his hand back like she was a viper. He didn''t realize it, but he had moved away. He found himself standing, staring at a wall. ¡°No.¡± He whispered, hoarse. Then he broke.


    Kurt was quiet as he left the bed that morning. Quena was... well, she was tired. He didn''t want to try and wake her, what he wanted to do was have this gods damned fight all ready. Grabbing his staff and boots, he crept out the door, locking it behind himself. She had a spare key, after all. No sense in taking a chance. Gods, Kurt, what did you do last night?


    This morning wasn''t nearly so bad as the prior. His head wasn''t pounding, though he could feel a little ache just behind his eyes. Though the pain was minutely distracting, the consternation he felt was dominating his thoughts. Had he made a terrible mistake last night? Happy accident? Why did I do that?


    He had to stop shortly after making his way down the hall. Leaning against the wall, he dropped his boots and staff to slide slowly down, cupping his face in his hands. I told myself I wouldn''t. Then I did it anyways. I''m a betrayer, a betrayer of my own beliefs, my own rules.


    Even as he chided himself and hid his face in shame, he felt the knot of pleasantness that was accompanied with the thought of Quena. Lowering his hands for the moment, he stared off, lost in thought. She really is her own person. Perhaps, I''ve fallen in love. If I have, does that mean what I did was right? Would not following my feelings for Quena be a disgrace to Diana or an honor? Is it a disgrace to me?


    He took a long breath and let it out slowly. What was done was done, but before facing off with his brother, he had a few stops to make. He reached over to put his boots on, only then realizing he didn''t have his pants. Kressor''s scorched testes, what am I even doing with myself?


    Sneaking back in to put on some pants was the least stressful part of his mid-morning. The more stressful bit was watching all the people. They were crazed, or damn near crazed. Every server was short with him as he asked for food, every person gave him a scowl, and violence was erupting everywhere. Even the last day of the games wasn''t enough distraction. A man throwing a ten pound ball further than the other wasn''t all that entertaining anyhow. The archery competition wasn¡¯t half bad.


    His match had a few hours yet, then there would be some kind of ceremony for the winners, and another really big ceremony for the rest of the evening hailing in their new Grand Elder. He was just a kid, Kennith Tanner was his name, and when Kurt saw him the night before he wasn''t all that impressed. That feeling shifted decidedly when Kurt came on to the balcony for the first time.


    He was imposing. Every time Kurt looked that direction, it felt like someone was pointing an arrow right at him and was too close to miss. It was alarming, to say the least. Ever so often, the images on the platforms above the stadium would light up with the Elder''s visage. The difference was staggering, concerning really. His eyes were now sunken in, his posture was that of the decrepit man that stood in his place yesterday, and that smile. That smile was a bit of wickedness that Kurt didn''t have words for. That was Bacchus, right out in the open. Smiling to a crowd in a uproar.


    Going down the stairs to visit his parents was an astounding relief. His parents, by the grace of the Gods, were actually mild compared to the stadium. His mother looked worn and tired, while his father seemed hale, considering that a week ago Kurt was wiping drool off his face.


    ¡°Kurt, what''s going on up there?¡± Rita asked, sunken eyes looking the direction he came from for a moment.


    ¡°I don''t know, but everyone is really fired up. How long do you think they''ll keep this up?¡± He was suddenly cut off by a roar from the crowd, Kurt thought he saw that it was archery.


    Rita rolled her eyes, but Rand pointed saying, ¡°what a shot!¡± Then he was on his feet, pointing furiously to the images in the sky. ¡°I can''t believe it, she split her own arrow on the bull''s eye!¡± The following series of expletives had the air of repetition to it, flowing forth like so many strung together vowels that the words lost their meaning.


    ¡°I see.¡± Kurt said, nodding.


    ¡°Rita, I can''t believe you missed it for the serving boy. That was unbelievable!¡± Rand was smiling broadly before turning his eyes back to the field.


    ¡°So, was he this bad yesterday?¡± Kurt asked, a bit amused.


    ¡°Oh, shut up. I have enough to deal with.¡± She sighed, then quickly added, ¡°not this bad, no. He seems to remember a bit more now though, that this isn''t his tournament. Where we lived that first year.¡± She grew tired for a moment, and her face relaxed, then just like that the face of composure held fast. Unwavering, she added, ¡°but he doesn''t remember either of you. Kurt, what are we going to do?¡±


    ¡°We''re going to move forward, that''s all I can do.¡± Kurt sounded determined but felt a nagging dread at what he had to do. Then he snapped his fingers, remembering. ¡°Someone gave me this, I almost forgot.¡± Handing his mother the letter, he then left her to her peace. She had enough problems to deal with for the moment, no sense in adding to her burden by bitching about fighting his brother, or how unsure he was about all of it. No sense in voicing his complaints, that he was a pawn in a larger game didn''t really bother him. What bothered him was the unsure feeling he had every time he held his new staff.


    At first, it was subtle, like the distant buzz of a swarm of insects. Now, it felt like the buzz was closer, though he couldn''t tell if the buzz was that of flies, wasps, or harmless honeybees. Regardless, he wanted to relax a bit with his new friends before the bout, though no drinking this time. They''d respect him for that, though they were angry enough at Dorian over the whole challenge that they might just decimate him for even going near a drink. Kressians were just like that.


    His eyes were rough feeling, they ached in a way that reminded him that he wasn''t worth his own weight in stone. Dorian, after nearly an hour of weeping, rocking, and dwelling on his own mistakes, was finally ready to meet this ransacked day.


    Perhaps he was being pessimistic, perhaps losing one of their four was too much for his young psyche, perhaps he was nervous for himself and his remaining friends. No matter what the looming threat was, he had been weak long enough. Looking at Ingrid, he momentarily swelled with pride. He could be strong, for her and for himself, he could do that.


    The pain wasn''t gone, no, it likely never would be. Attached to him like an ethereal tumor, his sorrow was heavier than... well, himself. At the time he couldn''t think of anything larger, not that he was practicing his old pass time of self-loathing, but for how strongly his emotions had control of him. It was invading his mind, his sorrow, his mind¡¯s eye shrinking in on itself to the point that he felt claustrophobic.


    Once again, Ingrid was there, holding his pieces together. Though there was something wrong with her, a quietness where there would normally be a chiding remark, or an arrogant smile.


    ¡°Darling, what''s wrong?¡± Dorian asked, his voice cracking a bit.


    ¡°Hmm? Nothing.¡±


    Dorian''s response was the most patient expression he could muster. He stared that way for a full ten seconds before she spoke.


    ¡°I... I don''t know. I went there last night, to get Ken, but it was too late. Quena and I, we,¡± she took a steadying breath, ¡°we found the unmarked grave of all the people he''s been. I have memories, all shook up and confusing, but they aren''t my memories, Dorian. I don''t know what to make of them.¡± She was frowning, and paler than her normally fair skin, she looked nearly gaunt for a moment.


    He put a hand on her shoulder, and looked deeply into those stunning blue eyes. ¡°We will figure this out, I''ll do whatever it takes.¡± An idea flushed to the fore of his mind, but he stuffed it down as quick as it came. Nobody could know. Not what he planned to do with his boon, not what he''d be willing to trade.


    ¡°It''s almost time. I''d ask you to help me warm up, but I need some time to put my thoughts together.¡± He kissed her cheek and rose slowly. Before he had a chance to turn, she gripped him by his waist and held.


    At first, he thought he should pry her off and go, but this kind of behavior wasn''t like Ingrid. It wasn''t like her at all. He held her there, patting her hair softly, trying to stroke away her worry.


    ¡°Hey.¡± Dorian said as softly as he could. ¡°Whatever happens, no matter what, if we aren''t together at the end of this day, I will commit all that I am to reunite us. Okay?¡±


    She shook her head. Finally looking up to him, her wet rounded eyes broke his heart. ¡°That''s not good enough, Dorian. I want you to swear it.¡±


    ¡°Uh, on-¡±


    ¡°Swear it! On your light, and your hope to be reborn, on your word and your line and, and, everything. You swear to me, Dorian, or I''ll keep you right here.¡± As she said her final words, she buried her face in his tunic, his soft stomach folding as she held herself as close to him as possible.


    He let a moment pass, let his mind digest the gravity of her need. Feeling as though he would fail in this regard as well, he said the words and meant them.


    Kindly, but not softly, Dorian said, ¡°I swear to you, Ingrid Wheeler, that on my light, my power, my soul, and my hope to be reborn, on all that I am, all that I can be, all that I will be. After this day, if we do not end it together, every success, every failure, and every desire I have will be, in the end, to reunite us. I swear, even death won¡¯t stop me.¡±


    Bending over, he kissed her forehead, then, as she lifted her chin, he gave her the best kiss he could. The kind that melded their mouths together, that made Dorian feel whole, vibrant, and new. The kind of kiss that belonged in a story. Even if I die today, I''d like to give her at least one good thing for all the good she gave me. A kiss to remember is a trifle, but it''s all I''ve got.


    Dorian turned towards the door, when she said, ¡°but death will stop you, Dorian, you''re not a Priorius. So don''t die.¡±


    He stopped, nodded once, and said, ¡°then I''ll just have to break the rules, anything for my beloved.¡± He smiled, opening their bond to reinforce his point. It radiated with absolute conviction.


    He kept his bracelet on him. Even if he couldn''t talk to her on the sands, it was a comfort to know she was there. Still, he didn''t send her anything through it until he was about to go down the stairs. On the way he happened to run in to Basil.


    ¡°Basil, good sir, how are you today?¡±


    ¡°Afternoon sir, I''m glad I caught you. I''ve got all your money right here, haven''t let it leave my sight, though I took what you offered, since you were right an'' all.¡±


    ¡°That''s why I told you to do it.¡± He smiled down to Basil noting his new looking clothes. ¡°So, what were my winnings then?¡±


    The young man''s eyes went slant for a moment as he looked about the vacant hallway. He began untying the cord that held up his britches. Dorian, alarmed, put his hands up, ¡°whoa, Basil, what are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, sir, I, uh, didn''t feel right wearing it on my hip, ya see?¡± Reaching into his pants, he found what he was looking for and pulled out a rather large sack of coins. ¡°All''s there, of course sir. Planning on putting in on another wager?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Dorian shook his head, ¡°no, Basil, however.¡± Dorian snatched the coins and tossed the young man a roll of Vega tokens. His eyes went wide, but Dorian put a hand up to protest. ¡°It''s not a gift, its payment of trust. Trust you''ll deliver the rest of these coins to the woman in my rooms, and trust that you won¡¯t gamble today. Does that sound like a good deal?¡±


    The boy tried to say several things all at once, which came out in a series of short bursts. ¡°Si-I-Wha-I mean-sir-.¡±


    ¡°Relax, Basil. You''ve done well by me, now let me repay you. Oh, have you anything to eat on you by chance, I haven''t eaten yet.¡±


    ¡°But sir! It''s passed noon, you have to keep your strength up. Here, cinnamon almonds mixed with granola and honey, got them from a vendor on the first floor. Suppose for a whole roll, I won¡¯t mind making another trip.¡± The boy¡¯s eyes were going everywhere at once.


    ¡°Basil, is there something wrong?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, uh, no, I don''t think so. I mean, everyone''s been in a mood today. Whole stadium is about to riot, the new elder-¡±


    ¡°Stop.¡± Dorian put a hand up and shut his eyes. ¡°I don''t need to know anymore.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Basil looked suddenly hurt, ¡°I didn''t mean to offend you sir Dorian, it''s just-¡±


    ¡°It''s okay, Basil. I''m just dealing with something right now. Tell you what,¡± Dorian popped some of the mixed cereal in to his mouth, and was surprised at how delicious it was. ¡°Take the coins to her, but grab another bag of these when you go down, treat your next bag out of the earnings, thank you for everything Basil.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course sir. Is there anything else I can do for you? Perhaps buy a large diamond ring for the lady? She''s been there a few nights in a row now...¡± He shrugged. Dorian smirked.


    ¡°She''s the only one to ever be there, Basil. I''m no hot shot, I''m just another person, not so different from yourself.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no sir, I could never be so-¡±


    ¡°You can be whomever you want to be, whenever you decide to be it. If you wake up tomorrow and decide to be a king, and never falter, never yield, and exhibit all the qualities you see to be kingly, I dare say, you''d be a king in truth. I''m just a fat kid that woke up one day and figured, maybe I''d like to be a champion.¡± He smiled to the young man, and something seemed to melt away. His rigidity went lax, and he started grinning sheepishly.


    Standing straight, he said, ¡°so, do you think you''ll win?¡±


    Dorian shrugged, ¡°at this stage, I''ve made my point. Nobody out there would want to face me on those grounds, even the one I''m fighting today. I don''t know if I''ll win,¡± Dorian looked off into space for a heartbeat before adding, ¡°but I can promise you, it''ll be something to remember.¡± He smiled wickedly before turning down the hall. ¡°Oh, and Basil.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir?¡±


    ¡°When you deliver the sweets to the girl, give her this and tell her just in case. She''ll go black in the face for a moment but tell her that I said if there must be a wait, she''ll need lodging.¡± Dorian tossed the bag of coins to the kid and was around a corner before he knew whether or not Basil caught them. No, I know he caught them. He just needed someone to believe in him, maybe that''s why I think he''s a good sort.


    He chuckled to himself before he saw the guards in front of the archway leading downwards.


    Gripping his bracelet, he sent, ¡°Ingrid. Before this goes dark, just know that I love you. I love you more than anything, even myself. You''re the best thing that''s ever happened to me.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I''m not a thing!¡±


    ¡°Bullshit, you know you are. What is a whirlwind but a thing? A storm? An avalanche? Oh, you are a force Ingrid, a force that''s changed my view on what good could be. I was never happy until you entered my life.¡±


    ¡°Hush, you. Just stay safe, you''ve got about an hour to warm up. This guy is gonna be tough, he fights with Alex''s accuracy, has several more combinations than you, and will harry you the entire match. I don''t know, Dorian, I''ve got a bad feeling about this.¡± Somehow the waver in her voice managed to echo through his head.


    ¡°What? He''s not near so big as me, I''ve got my own advantages, thank you very much.¡± He wasn''t really hurt, though her words did draw back at his optimistic mood.


    ¡°The bigger they are the harder they fall.¡±


    ¡°The smaller they are the further they fly, now get out of my head woman. I have a match to win us.¡±


    As Dorian was walking down the stairs, he heard her voice echo through his mind, ¡°I love you, Dorian.¡±


    Kurt slapped Niko on the back before standing up and stretching a bit. ¡°You guys are nuts, and I''d love to stay for, what did you call it?¡±


    ¡°Ball-biter darts! You''ll have to play a match with us after you win.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I''ve found what my boon will be, to ban any game involving biting balls.¡±


    Niko laughed uproariously, though Kurt didn''t think it was all that funny. ¡°You do not need it, but good luck my friend. The ancestors are stronger in you than he, you will be victorious. I know this, like I know my other new friend very much likes your stick.¡±


    ¡°Huh? What are you talking about, are you drunk?¡± Kurt replied, caught off guard by the statement.


    ¡°My puppy, you see?¡± Niko pointed, and a small Kressian shepherd was chewing on the bottom of Kurt''s new staff.


    ¡°Hey there, you little bastard?!¡± Kurt said it exclaiming, but was smiling as he did so. ¡°Not for pups.¡±


    The little critter had the audacity to yip at him as he left. The last thing he heard as he left the Kressian balcony was about thirty people laughing, cheering, or just plain shouting, ¡°there goes the next champion.¡±


    Find me, Kurt.


    Kurt shook his head. Oh, yes, he was about to find Dorian and have this be done. He had woods to explore, a woman to convince that the cities really weren''t that great, animals to hunt, a home to have, and by the end of this day, by the grace of the Gods, a whole family.


    Quena was alarmed to find that Kurt had slipped out without even waking her. How had she let her walls drop so far?


    The memories still flashing through her mind made her a little... inconsistent. One moment she wanted to cry for how happy she was, then she wanted to scream, then she wanted to laugh. Sometimes she had a call for sudden and abrupt violence, though she didn''t act on it. She didn''t like how it felt, didn''t like how she felt. It wasn''t her, and if it was, then this was only a reaction. A temporary problem. She hoped.


    When she left the room, the urges became unbearable. Like something was playing the strings of her emotions, but they were only a novice, and every third note was off-key. So, she stayed in Kurt''s rooms for the time being. She had earned it, she thought, especially after last night. She smirked as she undressed for a bath, or perhaps he earned it. My oh my, I can''t believe I-


    A loud knock at the door nearly jolted her off her feet. Grabbing a robe, she went to the door and opened it a crack. ¡°Can I help you?¡± She said as flatly as she could.


    ¡°Oh, sorry, m''lady. Is the contender in there by chance, it''s only an hour off now and they''re going to be starting announcements soon.¡±


    ¡°No, he''s been gone. Not even sure when he left.¡± She yawned unapologetically.


    ¡°Oh, I see, um.¡± He was blushing! Oh, I have to do something with this.


    ¡°Don''t worry, I wont miss his match. I''m afraid to see what he''d do to a man, considering what he did to me.¡± She smiled, and even blushed a little. Ironically, she found she wasn''t stretching the truth too far. The man, however, didn''t know that. His face was beat red when she opened the door a little more, showing that she was in little more than a robe.


    ¡°You''re welcome to try and show him up, but I don''t think he''ll like that much. Probably wouldn''t like to know that you came here and were openly gawking at me either.¡± She said this so nonchalantly that the man didn''t even register the words for the first few seconds. He went from smiling and nodding to straight backed.


    ¡°I apologize, m''lady. I''ll take my leave, and say if you didn''t mention the little peek I saw, I wont mention to my superior that there was a woman in a room that should be empty.¡± He bowed his head, but pointedly kept her eye.


    She grinned Kurt''s reckless grin, and tilted one eyebrow for just a moment as the door slowly shut. She laughed to herself, despite the echoes running through her mind. Oh, that was too much fun.


    Forty minutes later, she was bathed, dressed, hair in a tight bun, with her finest traveling tunic on. She then bribed, cheated, sneaked, flirted, and coerced herself to a front row seat. Close enough to the sands that she could drop herself into the arena, though she''d likely break a leg if she jumped in. She was just considering how she would go about lowering herself without injury when the announcer began.


    ¡°Today, this day, we celebrate the autumnal equinox in spectacular fashion, just as we celebrate the life of our Grand Elder. We beg hope to bring in the reign of our new spiritual leader, so that we may continue to prosper under the guidance of the Gods! The qualifying tournaments just to get this far were incredibly competitive, and here in our new Colosseum we have witnessed some of the most brutal and stunning matches ever had! To get here today the journey has been long, but through the grace of the Gods and the will of our leaders, we have filled our Colosseum to the brim. I doubt there''s a soul out there, saving for those who have ascended, that isn''t right here to witness this glorious celebration.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The first of our contestants hails from our southernmost settlement, Metan. On the front line, this contestant is a Hunter of great renown, and has been acknowledged by our new Elder as the King of the wilds!¡±


    A few gasps came from the crowd at that statement. For good reason, that would be considered blasphemy.


    ¡°Fear not, my Pathian patrons, our Elder has stated this as the Gods themselves do not wish to trifle with those wild and wicked lands. Such is the fortitude of our first championship contender that he has grown up besides the unforgiving brutality of those uncharted lands. He is the son of a great house, the Hunts, who ten generations past were given their name for their fearlessness in facing the lions that hunted the sheep of the Kressian plains. I assure you all, he is true to his name! His ancestors should be proud for all that they wished to be has come to fruition, in the poise of his stance and the strength of his strike! To all those that bear witness, I beg thee welcome the king of the Wilds, Kurtis Hunt!¡±


    The cheers were so loud that the stands began to shake, eventually the crowd cheered, ¡°Hunt! Hunt! Hunt!¡±


    Kurt came out at a light jog, wearing his traveling tunic. He looked audaciously plain, save for his fine musculature, he might have been anyone. Though that musculature wasn''t bulky by any means, he certainly had more than most that were as lean as he. He stood tall, waving his staff around and watching the crowd react. Seemingly from nowhere, green leaves began to flow downward towards the stadium floor. She watched as this registered to Kurt, and that wolfish grin spread across his face so broad she could see it without the Technum that projected his image above.


    ¡°For our next contender, hailing from our northernmost reaches, deep within the depths of the initiate''s Monastery. Having had to fight his way through to the top, even as a child, our next contestant to the championship has always shown a keen eye. Don''t believe what you see, nor make the mistake that this hulk of a man is quiet behind the veil of his eyes. This young man began fighting just a few years passed, and has grown nearly a foot since his first victories against much more athletic opponents. With his wit he learned to fight, and as his body grew to match his mind, his strength taught him to dominate. Representing the Monastery, please welcome, Dorian Hook!¡±


    The crowd went absolutely mad, and she felt it too. She felt a whole lot of things, but mostly she felt anger and a lust for violence. It was foreign, as in, it was coming from an external source. She didn''t want to shout and cheer for the once pudgy kid, but now she found herself standing and cheering ¡°Do-re-an! Do-re-an!¡± with everyone else. What is going on?


    Kurt watched as his brother stepped out from the shaded entrance, dressed in an all white tunic he looked like a living wall. The crowd were chanting that ominous sound, and looking up, Kurt could see the Grand Elder''s gaze resting upon Dorian. It made him sick to realize it, but Kurt was sure that look was one of pride. No, Bacchus, he is not yours. Not in truth.


    Still, Dorian''s light jog seemed to shake the ground before him. His prodigious bulk as a child seemed to migrate upwards, broad shoulders and chest covered any sign that he once resembled a circle more than a square. His staff, a new one it seemed, bobbed lightly as he came to his marked spot. Then the announcer started up again. Kurt''s heart was fluttering, which was unlike him. He hadn''t been this close to his brother in long time, and the man his brother had become was something Kurt hadn''t expected.


    ¡°Today, we celebrate a grand tradition of champions. From before the great library was burned down, since well before we kept records, we have always honored our champions. In that tradition, remember that once your opponent has been defeated, you will announce your boon. A wish from the Grand Elder himself, without reservation, a gift from the divine among us! Are our patrons ready?!¡±


    The cheers that erupted made Kurt want to wince, and he would have if his eyes weren''t so solidly locked on Dorian''s. Dorian didn''t speak, he just mirrored Kurt, assessing his opponent. Damn, I really shouldn''t have taught him a damn thing.


    ¡°Hook, are you ready?¡± Called the announcer, so Dorian nodded once, keeping the Metian''s eye. ¡°Hunt, are you ready?¡± The Metian mirrored him, a single nod. ¡° Blessed be the blood that stains this ground, for it shall bring our redemption! Fighters at the ready! Begin!¡±


    Hunt came at Dorian with a broad swipe, so Dorian stepped in quick for a parry, rolling in to as he went, attempting to deliver his own arcing swipe in turn. A parry met his attack, as the staff rebounded, Hunt stepped in towards Dorian. With both hands on his staff, he bashed at Dorian''s weapon again and leaned in to shoulder Dorian. Dorian, however, was wise to the tactic and mirrored the man. The result was a mutual headbutt that sent them both staggering.


    Finding his feet, he put a hand up to his head checking it for blood. Nothing, though for some reason he found this absolutely hilarious. He laughed, looking towards his opponent, he was laughing as well. Their grins mirrored each other, as did the following head tilt. How odd.


    ¡°I hope you''re ready for this next one, came up with it myself.¡± The Metian said, pointing his staff and wearing a feral grin.


    ¡°What''cha got, then?¡± Dorian beckoned, readying himself.


    Hunt took two large bounds, leaped off the front of his staff and vaulted himself forward. The force of the thrust was unreal, and would have taken Dorian right off his feet if he were fool enough to stand there and block it. The man weighed less than Dorian by a few stone, but the amount of momentum he brought was staggering.


    Pivoting past the blow, Dorian clipped the man as he passed, but didn''t think he hit soundly enough to do any real damage.


    ¡°Here, let me show you one of mine!¡± Dorian shouted over the crowd. He put all his might behind a series of strikes meant to push someone out of their base. Ideally, it would throw them off balance enough for Dorian to follow with something proper.


    The Metian stunned him as he planted the spike in to the soil and placed a foot behind it to reinforce his staff. The result made Dorian''s hopes drop as each attack sent his opponents staff shaking but otherwise absorbed every blow. Hunt simply pivoted around his staff, reinforcing it as he went. Damn. Smart though.


    Figuring, why not, Dorian did what he could to imitated Hunt''s incredibly strong thrust. To his surprise, it worked better than he expected, though still fell short of the mark. Hunt backed out and began to circle.


    ¡°You picked that up quick,¡± he said as he slowly spun his staff in a small circle.


    Dorian grinned, ¡°you''re not doing so bad yourself.¡±


    Dorian, seeing that the man was beginning to close in, didn''t want to be caught on his back foot. In a situation like this, Dorian figured, you either got the hell out of there or you rose to meet your opponent. He chose the latter but shifted his stance to one that was much lower.


    And they danced, Dorian swapping stances, high to low to basic, swapping his left and right dominance, using a series of attacks that were so fluid that he doubted any of his practiced techniques could compare. This wasn''t practice, however, this was the big event, and he knew in the pit of his soul that if he didn''t rise to this occasion it would cost him everything. The man across from him knew the same thing, and he too was rising to Dorian''s challenge.


    The series of attacks that they unleashed upon each other was a thing of beauty. No holds barred, everything they had came together as they fought, neither of them backing down or backing off. Once, Dorian was caught wrong footed, and Hunt capitalized by swiping out Dorian''s feet. As he followed up with an overhead bash towards Dorian, Dorian pulled a clever maneuver and managed to trip his opponent as he defended himself. They both ended up on the ground, scrambling to get back to their feet.


    Without pause, they met again, the crowd cheering as though they wanted to break the stadium with the magnitude of their accumulated voices. Dorian was surprised to find that his opponent hadn''t become exhausted yet, he was still fresh. Dorian had hoped his larger size and greater strength would eventually give him the edge. Who was this Hunt character anyway? He didn''t have to run the circuit, face the horrors Dorian had, Dorian had earned this with blood sweat and tears. This Metian wouldn''t take that from him.


    Another series of attacks and blocks, parries, counters, and the Metian managed to dance away without a single strike. He hadn''t landed one either, but still, how much longer could the man hold up?


    As they came in for the next attack, Dorian thrust low towards his opponent''s knee. Instead moving sideways, the Metian overestimated how low it was and tried to raise his leg above it as he threw his own backhanded strike. The result was Dorian''s staff getting lodged between the padded boot and the man''s foot, and the aforementioned backhanded strike came across Dorian''s cheek hard enough to send him reeling away. He refused to let go of his staff, yanking it free he pulled Hunt off his feet for a moment, giving Dorian a few seconds of reprieve he desperately needed. Then, he felt something. Like a tickle at the back of his mind, like he''d forgotten something, and that something was swiftly becoming everything.


    ¡°No!¡± He shouted, putting a hand out to stop Hunt from coming on.


    Kurt staggered about as he watched Dorian stumble away. He dro


    pped to a knee as he shouted, ¡°no!¡± and put a hand out to where Kurt would be coming from. Kurt hadn''t even made it to his feet yet, and was wondering what Dorian was doing. It was just a small hit, Kurt hit him much harder when Dorian was just a little dough boy, so he was a bit confused as to why Dorian was doing whatever it was he was doing.


    ¡°It''s okay, I can wait.¡± Kurt said as he dusted himself off.


    ¡°No! I said no! I don''t want this!¡± Dorian was screaming now.


    Kurt backed up a step, had Dorian gone mad? The stadium, what did that woman say? Don''t feed it?


    Kurt took a tentative step forward. ¡°No, stay back! Get out of my fucking head!¡± Then Dorian, resting on both knees, roared. Somewhere between pain and exultation, somewhere between losing control and bingeing on violence, somewhere between being human and being beast. He was struggling.


    ¡°Dorian, don''t feed it!¡± Kurt shouted to his brother but wasn''t too keen on getting close. Unfortunately, the crowd was so loud, booing as they were, that Dorian couldn''t hear him.


    Dorian was shaking his head back and forth now. Kurt looked up to see that wicked smile on the Elder''s face. He was doing this, and there wasn''t anything Kurt could do about it. Fuck! What do I do?


    He looked around and figured that he had to stab Dorian no matter what he did. Through the heart, little squire, do not miss, or you will be the only one to walk off the sands.


    Hearing Moder in his head was unexpected but not unwelcome. He nodded once, eyeing his target. Right there, where the tunic came together, just slightly off the center. One step, then another, then surging, almost in a run.


    Dorian screamed again, his voice shifting an octave down. About to strike, Dorian opened his eyes. They were black.


    Kurt was just about to strike Dorian in the chest. His staff was pointed, Dorian on his knees. The whole crowd was on their feet, Quena among them. She cried, ¡°Kill him, Kurt! Do it! Kill him!¡± She didn''t know what had come over her, but this feeling was the best she had ever felt. Better than any memory, possibly better than sex.


    Just as Kurt was about to put an end to the big bastard, he paused, and Dorian swiped madly. Kurt recoiled, grasping a hand. Why did you wait?!


    She took a breath. Get. A. Hold. Of. Yourself.


    But despite her mind saying the words, she still felt the same way. She wanted violence, and every exchange between the two men in the arena brought her closer and closer to complete rapture.


    Now Dorian was standing, but not in any stance she recognized. He lumbered towards Kurt, and a new feeling broke the surface of the raging storm of her emotions. Dread.


    ¡°Dorian! Stop! This isn''t you, Dor!¡± But Dorian couldn''t stop. He could only watch. Every step he took felt right, even if he had no stance whatsoever. As he stepped close enough, he whipped out, generating more strength than he thought he could. Kurt blocked it, but the blow ripped the man''s planted staff right out of the dirt.


    The Metian was shaking his hand as he backed away. Dorian seethed, lusting for more destruction.


    ¡°Brother, if you''re in there, take control! Dor! That''s your body, nobody else!¡± Brother? Well, at least I''m not the only one that''s gone mad, because this guy is crazy.


    ¡°Ah!¡± Dorian bellowed, now picking up the pace. He unleashed a flurry of attacks, combinations he didn''t like because he felt they were unfair. Despite this, the man was able to defend most of the attacks, until Dorian stabbed the meat on the Metian''s upper leg.


    ¡°Sss,¡± the man hissed as he inhaled and spun away. He limped as he backed up, but Dorian couldn''t stop. ¡°Please, Dorian, please!¡± He wailed, but Dorian felt nothing but confused and angry. He charged.


    Kurt was in bad shape, his injuries were mounting and if Dorian didn''t let up, Kurt would have to do something desperate. Kurt looked down to his leg for just a moment, but when he looked up Dorian was charging, already several strides closer than he should have been. Kurt danced back, preparing for the wicked strength his opponent bore.


    Each swing was like catching a boulder thrown at him, enough power to shake the foundations of any trade house in the Wilds. Blackened balls, man, give me a fucking opening!


    Kurt was getting frustrated, but Dorian had learned well. They were equally met, something Kurt seriously hadn''t expected, but Kurt missed his chance to do this right and was now paying for it with a broken finger or two. It had happened so fast, just a glancing contact after a parry. Now his grip was gone.


    He could still tuck his thumb behind his staff to defend, but his strikes had to either be underhanded or offhanded. So, that''s exactly what he did.


    Unleashing another series of attacks, Dorian had to back off or get caught with a backhanded bash or a solid strike. Kurt''s dominant hand wasn''t at it''s fullest, but he was sure he was still the greater talent between them. He had to optimize on that aspect, because facing Dorian down with sheer strength or speed wouldn''t work. Gods, a big man shouldn''t be able to move like that.


    Despite Kurt''s attacks, Dorian had met them strike for strike, and before Kurt knew it, they were exchanging blows. Kurt had managed a solid bash with the steel cap of his staff against Dorian''s forearm, which had slowed him enough to give Kurt some space. He backed out, trying to catch his breath, but Dorian was coming again. Next time, no drinking with the Kressians the night before.


    Kurt danced away, managed to land another strike to Dorian''s ankle as he stepped too soon. His eyes were completely black and unblinking, a disturbing visage to see on one''s kin, to be sure, which further worried Kurt. If I land this through the heart, will he still be Bacchus''s puppet? His thrall?


    Indecision was wracking his mind and was likely going to get him killed. Get them all killed. ¡°Gods damn you, Dorian! Wake up!¡±


    Dorian staggered for a moment, stumbled. Then he shook his head, looked up and bellowed, eyes black as the night.


    ¡°Dorian, it''s okay! I''m here now!¡± Kurt attacked, but Dorian was a living fortress. Clack, clack, thump.


    Kurt reeled back, struck solidly in his right shoulder, just at the top where the joint sat. Trying to lift his staff on that side, he couldn''t raise it higher than his now injured shoulder. He switched stances, but kept his weight on his back foot. A calm seemed to wash over Kurt then. He took a slow breath through his nose and let it out through grinning teeth.


    ¡°Dorian!¡± To his surprise, the crowd had quieted as they expected a final blow. It was the right time, Kurt knew. They were both battered and bleeding, gasping for breath, but still armed and talented.


    ¡°My brother! Dorian, I know you''re in there!¡±


    Quena was breathing in short spurts, trying to watch every move, not wanting to miss a single piece of the ecstasy-inducing fight. She wasn''t thinking anymore, just another part of the crowd. Just another reveler in the masses, just a piece of the puzzle instead of being the puzzle itself. It wasn''t like her, she knew, but when that feeling gripped her like this it was unlike anything. Even better than the freedom she had always dreamed of. Freedom, Q, this isn''t freedom.


    With a lurch, she pushed down the engulfing emotion. Pushed so hard that if she hadn''t lived and died ten times, she doubted she would have had the fortitude. Finally burrowing out a space for herself in her own mind, she was drawn back to the fight.


    Dorian was stepping towards Kurt, but slowly. Kurt was in an awkward kind of stance, his wounded leg forward but barely touching the ground. He was speaking, but every word just bounced right off the lumbering oaf. His focus was undeterred, unlike her man. Wait, my man? Why had I thought-


    ¡°Dorian! Do you remember when we ran away from the weavers after we doused their clothes in itchweed?¡± Dorian swung and bellowed, but Kurt backed out of range. ¡°Do you remember when Mom had to whip your bottom so hard you couldn''t sit for a week because you thought you could play hooky when it was your turn to burn the waste?¡± Dancing away, Kurt managed to stab a strike to Dorian''s shin that left him hobbling for a few moments.


    Kurt resumed his posture, holding his staff out to fend off his foe. ¡°Do you remember how hard we ran when I caught you feeding that baby bear? Do you remember the sounds the mother made as she got caught in the branches? Do you remember the time you saved that injured Garru? I never told you, but I hunted down that giant rat and killed the wicked thing, not for me but because you loved that Garru. Do you remember the-¡± he parried a strike, then turned the parry in to a shove that caught Dorian off guard enough to send him sprawling.


    ¡°Do you remember the first time I told you not to tell anyone about it.¡± Kurt said, quiet now even if the entire stadium could hear him. ¡°How about when you thought it would be a good idea to lace the smith''s Steelfyre with powdered Gwam?¡± He laughed.


    Dorian stood slowly, teeth gritted, beyond exhausted, but still he kept coming.


    ¡°Dorian, do you remember jumping off the cliff into the pool? How clear the water was, how the air felt up there? The view?¡± Dorian stepped closer, a half foot at a time. He wasn''t within striking distance yet, but anyone with eyes could see where he was heading.


    ¡°I made you a promise, Dorian. Do you remember? I told you to keep pace as best as you can, that I wouldn''t leave you behind. Dorian! I''m here to remind you of that promise, I''m with you now! Brother!¡± Kurt stepped in as Dorian did but staggered slightly. Dorian caught enough of this to double down his effort, but Kurt had stumbled in too close to be effective. Kurt turned the stumble, dropping nearly to a knee. Twisting, the lightest thud was heard.


    It was light, gentle, subtle. It was the razor edge of an obsidian knife, the swiftest glimmer of light from a shooting star, the blackness of a Shade compared to the darkness of a moonless night. Oh, so subtle, but so momentous, the glimmer of the sun reflected off the point that jutted out of Dorian''s back. No one moved.


    The pressure was mounting in his head when he felt the slightest sting. Like a bee sting, it wasn''t worth more than an audible yip, and yet...


    The grip on Dorian melted away as though it never was. Finally in control of himself, he was looking down at someone, looking down at... Kurt?


    Just below him, Kurt was on one knee, off hand extended. Dorian followed it to a staff, the staff followed...


    Dorian couldn''t breath. He tried, and though he got something, but it wasn''t enough. He looked to Kurt, confused.


    ¡°Kurt?¡±


    Kurt stood quickly, hands up. Dorian shook his head softly, disbelieving. He coughed, and blood erupted from his mouth. He took a short breath to cough again, and watched as his white tunic was stained red. His eyes were watering, his chin was quivering. ¡°Kurt?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, Dor?¡± Kurt sounded unsteady. Kurt never sounded unsteady.


    Dorian coughed and gasped as he gripped the staff. His instincts told him to take it out, but his mind wouldn''t have it. ¡°Tell Ingrid-¡± his legs were growing weak, and he was gasping.


    ¡°Dorian! No, no, no, no, no! Dorian, this isn''t supposed to happen!¡± Kurt was there, helping Dorian down to his knees.


    ¡°K-Kurt-¡± Dorian wheezed. His head was twitching slightly, his vision tunneling and blurry. ¡°Ingrid.¡± He wheezed, but Kurt was shouting something.


    Quena watched as Kurt threw a tantrum. He had won, why wasn''t everyone cheering? What was going on?


    Dorian''s words were everywhere at once, however, and she was captivated by it. She felt him, somehow, felt his pain, his disappointment.


    ¡°I l-l-love ''er, K-K-Kurt.¡± Dorian was starting to convulse, a very bad sign.


    ¡°Shut up, Dorian! This can''t happen!¡± He was screaming, his attention going back and forth between Dorian and the Elder now. ¡°Fix this!¡± He demanded, pleaded, cried. He was the only thing keeping Dorian up, though at the rate that Dorian was coughing blood, he would be empty within the minute.


    ¡°K-Kurt, it''s okay. I f-f-found l-love,¡± Quena recognized the chills, her stint learning with the healers was educational. He was shivering, which was a very bad sign. Meanwhile Quena was sweating through her travel gear.


    Faint now, but uninterrupted. Like a quiet call on a winter night. ¡°L-love like th-this¡± he whispered. A light bloomed from the arena floor.


    A warmth, a beautiful warmth, filled her to the point of spilling over. Quena gasped, as did several others around. The anger was gone, but in its place was this, it felt something like love, but so much more. Better than any drug, better than any sex or alcohol, it was wonder. She was smiling so hard that she was flexing muscles on her face that she hadn''t known she had. She couldn''t resist as she wrapped herself in her arms, twisting back and forth, so full of glee that she didn''t know what to do with herself. Get a grip before you start dancing!


    She opened her eyes to see Kurt crouched down, cupping Dorian''s face. Kurt''s face was a rictus of pain and anguish, tears streaming there. ¡°Dorian, I''m so sorry. It''s okay, I''m here now. I shouldn''t have left, you shouldn''t have left. We could have done this, done this together, you know? We-¡±


    A string of wheezing coughs broke the silence.


    ¡°Tell her¡­ I¡¯m sorry for breaking my p-p-p-¡± He choked, the wheezing growing harsher, his breath rattling in his chest.


    Quena couldn¡¯t help but feel sorry for him. If she was honest, she was even a little jealous.


    For just a moment, she wished she could feel that kind of love, what he felt for Ingrid, with anyone. She had walked back from the cold so many times now, but she had never known that. Thought she had, maybe. But not like this.


    The envy soured her mood, but the tragedy unfolding before her was still something beautiful. Even when she wasn¡¯t part of it, tragedy could be just as beautiful as anything else. She couldn¡¯t look away from the final act of this beautiful heartbreak.


    ¡°No, no, no, Dorian, stay with me!¡± Dorian was twitching back and forth now. He was starting his death throws.


    Kurt didn''t know what to do, he was watching his brother die. ¡°Dorian! You can''t do this to me! You son of a bitch! Do you hear me up there! You fix this! You fix this right fucking now!¡± Dorian was gasping uncontrollably now, like a fish out of water.


    Not thinking, part of him thought that if he could stop the twitching, everything would be okay. He held his brother tight, held him upright as best he could.


    Dorian was a bloody mess. His jolting movements were so jarring that Kurt had to grab on to his tunic or get bucked away. Kurt screamed, ¡°God''s no! Not like this! You fucking bastards! It wasn''t supposed to be like this!¡±


    He felt more than heard the last weeping breath escape Dorian. It wasn''t even a breath really, just muscles giving up. Nobody moved, the crowd didn¡¯t call out, didn¡¯t react. Absolute silence.


    Kurt backed away, and Dorian stayed there. On his knees, he didn''t move, didn''t stir, didn''t even budge. Tears running down Kurt''s face, frowning deeply, he slowly shook his head. He gripped the soil beneath his hands as he inspected every inch of Dorian. The scars that ran from his neck down, his broad build, that Cook''s chin. Kurt drank in the image of his dead brother like a man dying of thirst. He was kneading his dirty hands unconsciously before he finally realized what he had done. He''d killed his brother.


    There on the arena floor, in front of every person in the Valley, Kurt buried his face in his hands, and wept, his sobs, his pleading, his mania, worn openly, and not a soul broke the silence that juxtaposed the sounds of his loss.


    Then, the gate that Kurt came out of lifted, the clinking metal shattering the sacred silence. Quena let out a breath she''d been holding, unaware that she had been holding it to begin with.


    It tugged at him, pulled at him, down it beckoned him. A weight, an unbelievable weight pulled. It pulled and he fought. Fought and fought until he couldn¡¯t fight it anymore. His last moments, he felt that he was burning the very embers of his own soul, still, unwilling as he was to give in. To the very end.


    Rand was mesmerized by the skill of the two fighters below. He was good but, by the Gods, the thought of dueling one of those two with those weapons put butterflies in his belly. When had my belly gotten so big?


    Looking over to Rita he saw her concern. She was watching as intently as he, and in the few years they''d been together, he''d never once seen her look so worried. ¡°My dear, what''s wrong?¡±


    Something tugged at the back of his mind for a moment, but he let it go as his wife spoke. ¡°Rand, don''t you recognize them?¡± She spoke to him but her eyes never left the Colosseum floor. ¡°Don''t you see your father down there? Don''t you see my grandfather in Kurt?¡± She stood suddenly.


    Rand looked over to her, confused. ¡°What are you talking about woman?¡±


    She slapped him, hard. This wasn''t the playful kind of slap you deliver to a friend, this was the kind that sent a message. By the gods, she''s strong. She''ll be an excellent mother one day...


    Gasping, Rand turned his head back to the two below. They were in combat now, Kurt was saying something, asking Dorian if he remembered? If he remembered?


    ¡°Rita, that''s my son!¡± Rand pointed. ¡°Those are our sons! Rita, what has happened? Gods above, are you mad?! Our children are down there!¡± Rand stood and strode out the room at a speed nobody would expect from such a bulky figure. Just as he was about to approach the stairs upward, Rita grabbed his shoulder.


    ¡°What do you think you''re doing?!¡± She demanded.


    ¡°What do you think?! Our kids are down there, I don''t give a burnt bisque about this fucking tournament, or the Gods forsaken Elder. Damn the rules, my kids will not be hurt for entertainment!¡±


    She held his eye for a long moment. When she spoke, she sounded assured. ¡°Okay, lets go.¡±


    They ran, ran like hell was on their heels, like they were tramping about in the Wilds when he first came Metan and had upset a mother boar. Ran with an absolute need. Rand nearly stumbled as he came to a balcony, slamming into the wall to stop himself. He leaned out, then pointed to the chain that raised and lowered the gate. Rita followed his gesture, as though she already knew what he would say.


    ¡°I need you to open the gate, follow me after, I love you.¡± He kissed her quickly, not allowing her time to argue. As soon as their lips parted, Rand took the stairs three at a time. She shouted something, but Rand ignored it. He had to stop his sons.


    Making his way down the hall, down the stairs, and across the long hallway to the entrance to the armory, Rand was sickened at his state of health. When was the last time he ran? Really ran, for all he was worth?


    Two guards standing there with staves blocked the open archway heading downwards. ¡°I''m sorry sir, I''m going to have to ask you to leave. Only combatants are allowed below.¡± He didn''t sound insulting, but his words were terse, as though he were at the edge of violence.


    Putting his hands up, Rand walked slowly towards them. ¡°Listen, I was sent by Rita Hunt herself. I''m to help ensure tha-¡± he cut off as he shoved the first man down the stairs. The second man was close by, too close for that spear to be effective. Rand charged the man, shoving him by his shoulders. The man was smart enough to drop his spear, and began trying to fend Rand off.


    Once Rand had the man pinned against the wall, he used his longer reach to shove the man against the wall again. Despite the hardened leather helm the man wore, Rand heard the crack from the stone wall as the man''s head hit. Rand gripped the man by the plumage on his helm and slammed the man''s head twice more. He fell to the floor, hopefully just unconscious, grabbed the man''s spear, and was just in time to fend against the man coming up the stairs.


    Rand wasn''t much of a brawler, not in truth, though he''d always been naturally athletic. The spear, though, the spear was something he knew down in the pit of his soul. The poor fellow had no idea what he''d just signed up for, even in a narrow stairway, he was done for.


    In less than thirty seconds, Rand had immobilized the man''s upward movement, stabbing the man in each shoulder and in his dominant upper arm twice. From there, it was a forgone conclusion. ¡°Drop your spear or die, no man will keep me from my sons!¡± Rand held the spear''s tip close to his opponent''s throat. ¡°Three, t-¡±


    ¡°I yield! I yield!¡± The sound of the spear dropping to the floor echoed dully down the halls. Rand stepped back, allowing the man to come up. ¡°Now grab your friend and get him to the temple. Go, before I kill you both. Now!¡± The man hurriedly scurried over, wincing as he lifted the unconscious man from under the arms and began walking backwards. Wordless, Rand went down the stairs, nearly stumbling as he moved with all haste. He came to the bottom just in time to see the gate opening. Gods, thank you for blessing me with such a resourceful wife, he thought as he ran for all he had on to the arena grounds.


    ¡°My sons! Not my sons, you faithless swine! End this match!¡± Came a familiar voice from behind him. Was that his father?


    Turning, bleary eyed, he saw his father''s prodigious bulk running for them. Afraid, Kurt stood to stop him. His instincts told him to hide what he had done.


    ¡°Da! Don''t! It''s too late!¡± Rand was before him so quickly that he couldn''t believe it. Kurt was holding him back, or attempting to, his father''s old man breath suddenly filling all the air in the stadium.


    ¡°No, son! Get out of my way! That''s my boy over there! Kurt, blast you, move!¡± Rand tugged hard at Kurt''s shoulder and followed with his own, shoving passed Kurt, it was too late.


    ¡°No, Dorian! No!¡± He moaned as he fell to his knees behind Dorian''s body. Holding him close, he wailed. He shouted, holding Dorian so tight that if he was alive, he wouldn''t be able to breath. Kurt tried to remove his father, but the old man was much heavier than himself.


    ¡°Dad, he''s gone.¡± Kurt said as he pulled, but for all his effort, all Kurt managed to do was tilt the two of them. A loud snap accompanied the shift, the staff jutting from Dorian''s back now angled away.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Came a voice from above. Looking, Kurt saw the new Elder up there, smirking. ¡°We have our champion!¡± Then the crowd switched from silence to uproar faster than Kurt could believe.


    The Grand Elder chuckled, eyes sunken, he licked his lips before he said, ¡°and what boon would you ask of the Gods?¡±


    Kurt looked up, sneering openly. ¡°I want my brother back!¡±


    The crowd cheered as though he had said he''d bring each of them a keg of ale. The Elder, however, didn''t laugh.


    ¡°Only the Gods decide when we are given life anew, I am only their servant, child. Do not worry, you will see him when you venture so far. Now, before we begin the final ceremony, and the feast, what is your boon?¡± He said it calmly, but it was so loud that Kurt''s eardrums ached.


    ¡°If you can''t bring me back my brother,¡± Kurt looked around, letting the crowd go silent. When they did, he repeated himself. ¡°If you can''t give me back my brother,¡± he paused again, staring up at the Elder. ¡°Then I want you to go and fuck yourself!¡± He accompanied the statement with a rude gesture, and the gasps from the crowd were simply grand. There couldn''t be a finer sound to accompany him to the underworld.


    It was so peaceful, wherever he was. It was so quiet, so solemn, so restful, he wondered why he would ever leave this place. He couldn''t see where he was, but he didn''t care. He didn''t need to see in a place like this, there was no need. He would have smiled, but that required too much effort.


    As he lofted in his reverie, he felt something shift, felt like he was falling over. That was odd, because where he was there wasn''t any up or down, no right or left. There was a pressure in his chest, and he heard the first noise he had ever heard in this place. It was a snapping sound, a crack that echoed, and the pressure in his chest shifted.


    Then he heard a new noise, or perhaps an old one? It was a humming noise, a buzzing noise, but as Dorian paid more and more attention, he heard a distinct ¡°ru-ru.¡±


    Quena watched in shock as Dorian stirred. She wasn''t listening to Kurt''s words anymore, and she doubted anyone else was either. Dorian is alive? How is that-


    He rose to a knee, Kurt turning to the noise. ¡°Dorian? Dorian?!¡±


    Dorian''s eyes opened, as they did an incredibly brilliant light shot out from his eyes. He roared, and the light arched from his mouth, then his wounds. His hair was suddenly free, and it began flailing wildly. Rand and Kurt both fell back, shielding their eyes from the sudden burst of light.


    Suddenly visible to the naked eye, the runes on the arena floor began shifting towards him. The Technum flowed, thousands of runes, covering him like a blanket. The light didn''t wink out, but it was as though she was seeing the light behind a piece of paper now, all of his brilliance and luster removed.


    Now staring at Dorian, she noted that the staff that was jutting from his body was gone. He was seated on his knees, just as he had been before his father ran out. She watched in amazement as Dorian''s light began to fight those runes, the light peeking from behind the veil ever so often, then it began to flicker wildly. Dorian was screaming, his voice odd. He didn''t sound human anymore.

 Chapter 40 - Ascension of the Last Priorius

    Yes! Yes! Little Dorian! You can do this! Drink deeply, young one, be what you were meant to be! You are the last Priorius born, the last hope for the valley, the last hope to keep the world from being infected! You are the answer, become born again! Bring down the might of those that gave you heart unto those that would do you harm! Bring manifest your blessings, granted by Atlas and Selene. Make whole your family, child of Perses, child of Eurybia! Give him the reckoning he has hidden from, free us from the Bacchus!


    Dorian was screaming with his whole body, pain, light and power reverberating through his essence. It came layered, fractured, one moment he was human, the next, something else entirely. His body convulsed beneath the crushing weight of the Technum, runes burrowing into his flesh like a living brand.


    He thrashed, but resistance was futile; the runes flowed to him, into him, through him. Each one searing into his skin like molten iron. The agony was blinding, but beneath it, something else stirred. A warmth. A force. Light.


    He gasped as it surged through him, swallowing the pain, flooding into the cracks of his soul. He let it in, embracing all of it as one. The staff impaling his chest shuddered, twisted. It shifted, not outward, but inward, merging with him like a missing piece snapping into place. The wound vanished. He was whole.


    And still, the runes came. Crawling, clawing, devouring him, pressing on his mind and compelling him to absolute rage.


    Dorian staggered, his body a vessel barely containing the raw forces tearing through him. The weight of a falling mountain. That¡¯s what it felt like. The arena, the stands, the very foundation of this place, the runes were pulling it all into him, as if he had become their center. They were drawn to his power like iron to a lodestone. He would not be buried.


    He seized his Gia, gripping it tighter than ever before. More. He needed more. He pulled from the runes, from the air, from the ground beneath him. It all hummed, a pressure so immense that the space around him began to warp.


    The levees holding him back, they weakened, the faintest trickling of water through a damn. As the resistance wavered, he surged. Power rushed outward in a brilliant, blinding detonation of light. The runes shattered, their bindings torn free in an explosion of raw force. Free, and yet-


    Before he could catch his breath, something else took hold.


    The light was blinding, but not unexpected. Dorian was glowing, and he was alive! And, holy hell, was he alive! He hooted, filled with disbelief.


    After shielding his eyes from the flash, he squinted to see Dorian rise on stilts of Shade. It happened quickly, but Dorian had risen to stand eye level with the Elder. His words echoed through the Colosseum, though not in the gentle way voices had carried in a match, no this was a booming voice, one that wasn''t Dorian''s. It wasn¡¯t a scream, nor a voice. A resonance.


    Low at first, deep, ancient, unshakable. Then rising, layered, echoing, growing in strength. It wasn¡¯t spoken or sung. It was declared.


    ¡°Johann of the Valley, bearer of stolen light:


    You were chosen to guard.


    You opened the gates.


    You were given trust.


    You forged it into chains.


    You were meant to lead.


    You made yourself a god.¡±


    Kurt felt his knees weaken. Each word vibrated in his chest, in his skull, in his very bones. It wasn¡¯t a voice in his head, it was will bending reality to truth. Dorian, no, Ohmer, spoke again, his voice now carrying something beyond mortal understanding.


    ¡°You were given a chance to be better, Johann. You chose to betray. Now, let the cost be paid.¡±


    Kurt watched in horror as tendrils of squirming Shade began to flow around the Elder. Then more, and more, until there was no longer any kind of shape to the figure. Instead, an amalgam of tendrils had replaced him, writhing and pulsing, seemingly drinking in the light from the surroundings.


    "Too late, Ohmer! Too late! Do you not feel it? They have drunk of me, swallowed my dark, made me their vessel! And soon the reservoir will burst! And when it does, it will drown you all!


    He paused then, his body plainly shaking. ¡°Now you come to take from me? To rob me of my final pleasures? No, no, I will not be taken. I will not be undone!¡± The blackness shifted off of the Elder''s body, then began expanding. Lifting upwards, his silhouette was lost to the sun, then it was the sun lost to the silhouette. It was pure Kraken, and had to be larger than the arena floor Kurt stood upon.


    Kurt turned to the sound of hurried footsteps towards him. Turning, it was Quena.


    ¡°What are you-¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Kurt! What the fuck is happening?¡±


    Kurt hesitated. He didn¡¯t know. He looked up at the burning figure, the stilts of Shade, the thing that wasn¡¯t Dorian anymore. "I think¡­ I think that''s his Garru."


    "That¡¯s not his Garru, you idiot! The Elder called him Ohmer¡ª" she sucked in a sharp breath. "Gods¡­ but I never really believed it."


    Kurt turned fully to face her, jaw tightening. "What do you mean?"


    "There was only ever one Ohmer, Kurt. The one chosen to lead us when the world was reborn. And his first successor was Johann."


    She looked up at the colossus of writhing tendrils, her face drained of color. "Johann betrayed him. Killed him. Imprisoned his spirit so he couldn¡¯t get out."


    Kurt swallowed, forcing himself to look back up at the nightmare above them. "It looks to me like he found a way-"


    He stopped. The world went dark. The light vanished, blotted out by something massive above them. They lifted their eyes as one.


    The sky was gone. A swirling monstrosity of tendrils choked out the sun. Ethereal. Weightless. Dread began to fill him.


    Ohmer wasn''t Ohmer. Not the fuzzy creature he had nurtured back to health. Not the affable Garru that took food from his hands when he wasn''t looking. No, Ohmer was something much much more. The gaps in Dorian¡¯s knowledge were shared openly between them, his mind flooded with memories. The sudden onslaught of information clicked into place, suddenly Dorian understood. Well, mostly.


    The memories were blurry, like seeing through murky water, but the truth hit hard: Ohmer had been the first Elder, chosen by the three. Dorian didn''t fully grasp what "the three" meant, there was a difference between the Gods they worshiped and what Ohmer had seen. He could feel that distinction, though it was too vast, too foreign to comprehend in this moment.


    But what mattered now was the brutality of it all. Johann, Ohmer¡¯s pupil. His trusted advisor.


    His murderer.


    Johann had betrayed him, had ripped his memories from his dying mind and spat them back out, leaving his corpse to rot beside the reservoir. That was the worst of it, the reservoir.


    The strongest time dilation ever made, or at least one of them. Time twisted there, a distortion so deep that the time had nearly stopped there by comparison. Ohmer''s corpse was still down there. For all the millenniums that had passed, it was likely only a few hours old.


    When Johann inherited the power of his predecessor¡¯s office, he found luxury in his abuse of power. Many years later, having just barely touched the perversion that was the parasite of Bacchus, his will had slowly been bent. Slowly, but inevitably, Johann gave way to the smallest bit of Bacchus, bargained with it to preserve his own life. Now, Bacchus was unleashed upon the valley, though Dorian had a sneaking suspicion that the entity was nervous. Not scared necessarily but certainly threatened.


    Now, the mass had coiled out of Johann''s, Ken''s, body. Seeing his friend there, seething at the mouth filled Dorian with a mixture of dread, worry, heartache, and rage. Johann twitched, not unlike a seizure, then fell limp to the ground.


    ¡°I''m sorry for the deception, Dorian.¡± Ohmer said in Dorian''s mind.


    ¡°I think you already know it''s okay.¡± Though he sent the words, his jaw clenched.


    ¡°Yes, but I had to say it. I am ready, thanks to you. I''m going to battle it now, Dorian, with your blessing of course.¡± Dorian gave a mental grunt in affirmation. ¡°Then, if you wish to save your people, you have a task. You must cleanse all present from the taint.¡±


    A realization washed across Dorian. The food, the God''s damned food!


    ¡°Yes.¡± Ohmer chuckled in his mind, and it felt grizzled. ¡°It reminds me of one of the old religions, you must wash away their sins.¡± Dorian would have scratched his head, if he weren''t so intent on the conversation at hand.


    ¡°Oh, no bother. Dorian, cleanse them with the light, and contain what has been washed. We need to return every bit of Bacchus to the reservoir, either by cleansing or death. Do you understand?¡±


    Dorian understood and had a damn good idea as to how to do it.


    Kurt watched as Dorian lowered himself down, the mass of Shade siphoning back into his torso like water vanishing into a sinkhole. Even after using his own Shade, it was still damn unsettling to see it disappear like that.


    ¡°Kurt,¡± Dorian sent to him, mind to mind. ¡°How are you?¡±


    Kurt exhaled, letting a grin slip onto his face. ¡°A sight better now, little brother.¡± Kurt replied mentally.


    ¡°I''m sorry for the scare, but we can cover that later. Can you fight?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but you tagged me pretty good in our match.¡± Kurt replied as he held his thigh tightly.


    ¡°I can stop the bleeding, but anymore and you might pass out. We''re going to need you Kurt,¡± the message was sent with a weight, but accompanying it, excitement.


    ¡°Dorian, you really did sign us up for something incredibly stupid, didn''t you?¡± Kurt sent back, remembering a younger, pudgier Dorian.


    Landing in front of Kurt, Dorian smiled and said, ¡°Yes. Yes, I really did.¡± For a moment, nothing else mattered. They stood there, staring at each other, a lifetime apart, for Dorian, but now together, both changed, both stronger. Kurt didn¡¯t fight it, he grabbed his brother and pulled him into a hug, ignoring the rest of the world. Then a second pair of arms wrapped around them, suddenly they were off their feet.


    ¡°My sons! My sons are the greatest in the valley!¡± Rand shook them once, as though he were still weightless children. His broad chest vibrated with laughter, and he squeezed hard enough that Dorian wondered if they had any Smith blood in them. ¡°Rita! Oh, there you are-¡± Rand cut off as he was shoved away by Rita. She had a start before embracing them both. She was sobbing openly. Her face flushed, she seemed a mess, but she also seemed utterly relieved.


    ¡°My boys-,¡± she managed to choke out, the two brothers embracing her together, she went slack. ¡°I thought I''d lost,¡± she paused before muttering, ¡°no, no, not the time.¡± She drew herself back, took a breath and let it out slow. When she opened her eyes, she was once again Rita Hunt.


    Rit reached out and pulled Dorian down by his bloodstained tunic. ¡°And you! Let me have a look at you.¡± She tilted her head from side to side, assessing. After the briefest moment, she broke, grinning a very familiar grin. ¡°Hey! That''s mine!¡± Kurt said in Dorian¡¯s head.


    ¡°It was her''s first,¡± Dorian replied mentally, then added, ¡°sorry, forgot to shut it off.¡±


    Kurt had forgotten about that too and sent, ¡°don''t. I can deal until this is over.¡±


    ¡°Mom, I''m glad to see you, but we don''t have a lot of time. Is my little sister safe?¡± Dorian asked aloud.


    She looked to Rand then back to Dorian, ¡°Teresa? Yeah, she''s in the nursery, but I don''t know who''s with her.¡±


    ¡°It''s okay, I can take care of that from here.¡± Dorian glowed faintly for a moment, eyes bright green like looking at the sun through a thin leaf. ¡°Okay, the nursery is blocked off, and I''ve cleansed the ones inside.¡±


    ¡°Teresa?¡± Rand asked, sounding confused.


    ¡°Your daughter,¡± Rita replied nonplussed.


    Dorian looked to his father, tilting his head slightly and noting something off. ¡°Did you do that, Kurt? By Gwendos, he doesn''t remember a thing most the time, does he?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, how''d you know?¡±


    Before a reply came, Dorian shot a channel of light to their father and Kurt, then he pulled something out of Kurt and it became liquefied in the light. It circled their father a few times and slowly merged in with his body. Rand took a shuddering breath.


    ¡°By the light of creation.¡± Rand groaned and bent to a knee, holding his head.


    Rita was there in a moment. ¡°Rand? What''s wrong?¡±


    Dorian let his hand fall, the light flickering out as he did. ¡°He''ll be much better in a moment. Listen, we have some things to take care of and I don''t have time to go into full detail. I''m going to give you a focus, and a memory. I''m sorry, but this is going to be abrupt.¡±


    A new light coalesced, covering both Rand and Rita. Dorian seemed to shake, as did the light.  Two shining motes floated to their parents and buried themselves in to their chests. They gasped, Rita taking to her knees now too.


    Kurt was surprised as his parents were. ¡°What did you give them?¡±


    ¡°Teaching them how to grip Gia and Shade, but not like you. Too risky,¡± Dorian looked pensive as he lowered his hand, light winking out alongside it.


    A keening was sounding from above, the sky now completely eclipsed by the writhing mass. The sound was urgent, as though the amalgam was growing impatient. A call from the abyss.


    Dorian went rigid. ¡°Is that a challenge?!¡± Dorian called, though it wasn''t his voice nor his accent.


    ¡°Oh shit, Kurt. We really don''t have a lot of time,¡± Dorian sent to him. It was faster that way.


    ¡°Protect me, don''t let anyone near me while he''s getting out. He''s¡­ sort of mooching my humanity at the moment.¡±


    ¡°Mooching your what?¡± Kurt asked, sounding incredulous.


    Dorian smirked. ¡°I''m going to do a mass sending before I begin, but when I do we might run in to some... uh, problems.¡± Dorian said, aloud for all to hear.


    ¡°I can do a better mass sending, what do you want to say?¡± Came Quena, who up until then wasn''t paying any attention to them.


    Dorian turned his head slowly and stared at Quena. He replied with the most condescending look Kurt had ever seen. One eyebrow quivered, then quirked upwards, his smirk following in order. It was a masterpiece.


    Very loud in Kurt''s head, Dorian''s voice boomed.


    Before beginning, Dorian sent a wave of healing through Kurt, following it with a thread of his own Gia. It was easy, as everything made sense now. Not just Gia and Shade, all of it. The Primes, their positives and negatives. How they weren¡¯t separate, but facets of something larger. Not a pie chart, but a shifting spectrum, infinite in potential, pulsing with pure life.


    One memory, not his, but Ohmer¡¯s, held the history of Gia itself, how it had first touched this world. Dorian wanted to know, but this place and time wasn¡¯t for learning. At that moment, all he could think was, there is much work to do.


    He gripped the light side of his telepathy Prime, siphoning out all Shade. Then, drawing from the local Gia, he opened his mind. And the world listened.


    Every living creature within twenty miles felt his presence. Gratefully, Ohmer took the lead and spoke, as Dorian didn¡¯t have the first clue of what to say. A voice, ancient and unshakable, thundered through every mind.


    ¡°Descendants! Hear me. Hold and take heed. Our sins have come to the light, given flesh, hovers now to break you from the very light you have sought.¡± He paused. ¡°Your Elders have lied.¡± He took another moment to let that sink in.


    ¡°They told you redemption lay in faith. They told you to fall in line, to live and die as your foremothers decreed. But our faith, our trust, was the key that let the parasite in. That parasite has consumed us. It will end us this day. All hangs in the balance. Not just your life, but the lives of all you know and love.¡± Dorian¡¯s light was brilliant, changing in hues of deep to bright green.


    ¡°The thing above us, our Elder, our Sin! It intends to slaughter us all, to break into the world in truth! Do not faulter for it was my blindness that allowed it.¡±There was a long, searing pause.


    Then, softer, but no less powerful, ¡°I am Ohmer. The first Elder. Chosen by the three. For twenty-five thousand years, I have waited. And now, I will take my vengeance, but can¡¯t do this alone.¡±


    Dorian felt something shift, an unraveling inside him, like a bond gently slipping free. Ohmer was leaving.


    The warmth, the weight, the thread of something ancient, started pulling away.


    ¡°I cast off my humanity one last time,¡± Ohmer¡¯s voice rumbled. ¡°And I go now to face the beast above. Dorian will remain. He will guide you. For those brave enough, the time has come to step forward. Now.¡±


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Kurt watched as Dorian waved several others away as the mental shout was heard. No, not heard, wracked with.


    The light shone brightly as Dorian gripped his source, Kurt could feel the residual Gia in the earth and air around them begin to siphon to Dorian. Stone creaked as the walls to the arena floor became ramps. Dorian mentally shouted once more saying, ¡°behold! For the three are merciful, they sent us a gift as Bacchus entered this world, his antithesis, his nemesis. I have been with this creature since it''s birth, our essences uniting in divine purpose! Basque in the splendor of their sublime will!¡±


    Dorian began twisting, shuddering, then groaning. As he fell to a knee, hand extended, something, a paw, climbed out of his back. Then another came, swelling as they went, the light not painful to look at for whatever reason.


    The head emerged, not quite lion, nor wolf, nor bear, but something that could have given birth to each. Its broad maw and jagged teeth open wide for all to see, swelling in size as it seemed to grow out of Dorian''s mostly blocked body. Finally, the beast emerged, fully the size of Kurt''s home. Still it swelled, growing larger and larger, its eyes fixed on the sky above.


    Now that the creature stood in full, Kurt took it in¡ªthe black stripes rippling down the sides of its mixed reddish coat. Its tail was lupine, yet its maw was unmistakably leonine, something that might haunt children¡¯s dreams if not for the odd serenity it carried.


    Then, it drew breath and roared. The ground trembled beneath Kurt¡¯s feet. The Colosseum shuddered, the sheer force of the sound rippling through the stone. And still, it grew.


    Dorian lay prone beneath it, nothing more than a distant speck against the vast blue sky. Finally, the beast settled on its haunches. Kurt had to crick his neck to take in its full height. Even seated, it filled half the arena floor, and now, its head stood nearly as tall as the Colosseum itself.


    Then, it turned its gaze downward.


    Dorian stirred, shook his head, then reached out and patted Ohmer¡¯s side. At his touch, the black stripes shifted. They flowed like ink, converging at the center of its back, coalescing into something new.


    Abruptly, wings of Shade burst forth. Not feathers. Not flesh. Intricately lined, jagged hooks, each a perfect reflection of Dorian¡¯s own Shade.


    They glimmered, though Kurt doubted many here would truly understand what they were seeing. Then came another roar even louder this time. The force of it was so powerful that one of the balconies collapsed. With a single mighty beat of its wings, Ohmer took flight, heading straight for Bacchus.


    It wasn''t more than a heartbeat before Kurt found himself running for his little brother. People had already begun to run down the makeshift ramps Dorian had configured, Kurt wanted to get to his brother before anyone else had.


    ¡°Dorian, what do we do now?!¡±


    Kurt¡¯s voice cut through the chaos, but his brother wasn¡¯t looking at him. Dorian was still staring skyward. Kurt followed his gaze, his breath catching as the colossal beasts met in the air.


    Ohmer clamped his jaws onto one of Bacchus¡¯s massive writhing tentacles, using it to pivot his bulk with uncanny precision. Then, with a brutal twist, he drove his hind legs forward, gouging into the mass of blackened flesh, raking deep, bloody trenches with claws the size of men.


    The two titans spun, twisting midair, then vanished beyond view. A second later, the ground buckled beneath Kurt¡¯s feet. The Colosseum shuddered. A fight between Gods had begun.


    ¡°Kurt! Defend yourself!¡± Dorian¡¯s voice snapped him back to the moment. It took Kurt a second to process the words, just a second, which was too long.


    If not for Quena following behind, the woman charging at Kurt would have cut him in two. Her black eyes gleamed in the broken sunlight now that Bacchus had been dragged from the sky. Her blade of Shade was already mid-swing. Then, faster than he could follow, her head wasn¡¯t attached anymore.


    It spun skyward, hit the sand with a wet thud, then rolled to a stop. Kurt staggered back, staring. ¡°W-w-what the fuck, Quena?!¡±


    ¡°Kill them or cleanse them, Kurt!¡± she snapped, already stepping forward to meet another foe. ¡°Or they¡¯ll swarm us. I¡¯ve seen this before, hurry!¡±


    Kurt forced himself to breathe. He gripped the source inside him, the light of life that burned at his core, and drew out his Shade. It unfurled from him, forming into a staff of interlocked black and silver.


    Now he saw it. The ones pouring down the ramps, rushing into the arena floor, they weren¡¯t running like people. Their movements were erratic, their limbs snapping too quickly, bending too far. They moved with reckless abandon, but with one purpose, to kill.


    Kurt lashed out, sending waves of light to burn the corruption away, but there were too many. Far, far too many.


    ¡°Dorian!¡± he roared. ¡°Do something, or we¡¯re going to be overrun!¡± Then he set his stance, lifted his staff, and charged the nearest enemy. This day wasn¡¯t over yet, not by a long shot.


    Dorian sent through his bracelet, ¡°Are you safe, Ingrid?¡±


    "Yes! Dorian, what in seven hells is going on? I just saw a giant crawl out of you and take off flying, and now everyone¡¯s losing their shit! Half of them are looking at me with black eyes, and," her mental communication hitched. "Dorian, I don¡¯t scare easy, but this is freaking me the fuck out.¡± She sounded desperate. That wasn¡¯t like her. Dorian might have laughed if the situation wasn¡¯t so unbelievably dire.


    "It¡¯s going to be okay. Where are you? I need your help for this next part, probably Malik too."


    "Malik? I think I saw him in the-" A shriek tore through the bracelet. Fuck.


    Dorian clenched his fists. No hesitation. "Kurt!" he roared. "I¡¯m calling for Moder¡ªwatch your step!" He turned toward the chaos, eyes burning. Amplifying his sending, he didn¡¯t just speak¡ªhe roared through the ether.


    "Moder! If ever there was a time to get a rise from you, it¡¯s now! Get your wretched ass out here¡ªhaven¡¯t you waited long enough?!"


    The ground shuddered. Dorian didn¡¯t wait to see what would follow. Shade exploded from his back, launching him skyward as he flung himself toward Ingrid¡¯s last position.


    "Ingrid! Give me a heat flare!" He wasn¡¯t sure if she heard him, despite their mental link, but then, fire erupted from the grandstand, cutting through the mass of writhing bodies below. There!


    Dorian surged forward, vaulting higher, extending Shade like tendrils of pure force. As he soared above the chaos, he opened his Gia, channeling pure light downward. The Colosseum lit up in white fire. A massive spiral of cleansing energy washed over the stands, turning pale green, then deep emerald, then fading back into him. He felt it sinking into the twisted souls below, peeling away corruption like stripping flesh from bone. He dropped.


    Bodies scattered like broken dolls as he tore through them. Dorian wasn¡¯t gentle. He flung them away with telekinesis, Shade, raw strength, whatever got them the fuck out of his way. If she even had a single scratch¡­I will smite the lot of you until there is nothing left but ash. Then, finally, he saw her. Ingrid.


    Dorian bent to grab her, but she slapped his hand away.


    "I can help myself, thank you," she huffed, still breathless, dignified as ever. Dorian laughed. Then he picked her up anyway. His movements were abrupt but gentle. He lifted her like she was something precious, something vital, something that would never be touched by harm.


    "Put me down, you ass!" she hissed, beating at his chest. She was so small in his arms, his hands wrapping around her like, she was as light as a feather. He didn¡¯t put her down.


    Instead, Shade lashed out from his back and sides, anchoring him to the shattered grandstand. At the same time, he flung them skyward with telekinesis, launching them both high enough to see the entire battlefield. Below them, the Colosseum was in ruin.


    At the edge of the forest, trees toppled as the two great beasts clashed. Ohmer was hurled backward but rolled with the impact, his back legs kicking out like a lion raking its prey. The force sent Bacchus flying, hurtling through the sky toward the distant mountains. For a moment, everything slowed.


    Dorian held Ingrid tight. He met her eyes, and his insides melted. The world below, the war raging around them, it all blurred away.


    "I should probably mention," he sent, his voice brushing her mind, "I¡¯m not as weak as I thought. Turns out-"


    She cut him off. She grabbed his collar and kissed him so hard it nearly knocked him stupid. For a moment, he forgot they were falling. The only thing that mattered was her.


    Then reality slammed back in. He caught them, telekinesis bracing their descent just before impact. The ground trembled beneath their feet. This time, it wasn¡¯t from Ohmer or Bacchus. The earth itself began to rise.


    Kurt was moving like he never had before. Darting in and out, cleansing where he could but for the most part it was kill or be killed. He smiled to himself as he thought, not much different from home.


    As he twisted and turned, flung darkness and light, the ground began shaking. It wasn''t like it had been when the two titans came together, no, the ground beneath them was stirring. When it began to rise beneath his feet he shouted, ¡°Quena, hang on!¡±


    Kurt bounded to her, she was still fighting as the rise began. He thought he spotted Dorian up above them towards the center of the rise, was he cradling someone? No matter, deal with it when you can.


    Quena had one person on top of her and another behind, the person behind was a Kressian woman, black hair offset to the frothing white coming from her mouth. Kurt bashed in the man on top of Quena and sent cleansing through her to the woman that had her arrested. When his Gia met hers, he had the oddest sense of vertigo, as though he could feel Quena but from a first person''s perspective. Just as quickly as it came, it went. Kurt picked her up over his shoulder, turned, and began to climb as the ground lifted ever higher.


    ¡°Let me down you oafish fool! Damn you!¡± Quena swore right in his ear, so he dropped her and not kindly. She let out all of her air with a ¡°whoosh¡± followed by a gasp.


    ¡°Damn it, Kurt! I''m a lady,-¡± Kurt snorted, then she continued after glaring daggers at him, ¡°not a sack of potatoes.¡± She finished, sounding calmer but far more dangerous.


    ¡°Well, m''lady, could you tell me what the fuck is going on? Why sixty foot of earth just decided to rise in the middle of the arena, why the hell everyone is trying to kill us, and what the fuck are we doing about it?!¡± Kurt gestured as he began picking up speed, he didn''t mean to but he ended with a shout.


    Abruptly, the earth beneath them shook and rose, suddenly both were launched upwards as they rode a platform of stone. Distantly, a massive animal was thrown through the peak of a mountain, the mountaintop giving way like a fallen vase.


    Turning his vision, he spotted a small group of people above him, but they were growing close at an alarming rate. As they rose to be on even ground an abrupt shift spilled them on to the earth there. Kurt rolled twice before coming to a stop, but Quena had managed a single roll coming out on to her feet. She held her crescent blade extended to Dorian''s neck, her stance speaking of violence she said, ¡°what are you?¡±


    Dorian held her glare, nobody moving despite the clatter and chaos below. ¡°You know what I am, Quena. Don''t pretend.¡± His eyes flashed green.


    ¡°Then which one are you? Hmm? Are you Jakom? Nelsa? Phebe? Tell me who you are, betrayer.¡±


    Dorian looked confused and hesitated before saying, ¡°I don''t know those people. I am Dorian, and this is my first time around.¡± Dorian stepped slightly into the blade, with unbelievable speed the crescent shape shifted to a hook and sucked right in to Dorian. ¡°There, that''s better.¡± Dorian smiled to Quena then moved to help Kurt up. Quena hadn''t budged, just glared. Kurt took the aid as Dorian sent, ¡°what''s got her nip in a twist?¡±


    Kurt replied with a mental shrug, though was careful not to actually shrug. Quena wouldn''t have liked that, no, not one bit. ¡°Quena, what''s your deal? It''s my little brother, I told you all about him.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you told me. If I believed every lie that came out of men''s mouths over the years, I''d have died a lot more often. You can''t expect me to believe-¡± She cut off as Dorian put a hand up.


    ¡°Quena, I''m none from the, what was it, Arcanum? Yes.¡± Dorian nodded putting his hand down. ¡°I''ve never lived before this. Like I said, this is my first time around.¡± He shrugged.


    She shook her head, ¡°no, no, I don''t believe that either. We were all there in the beginning, even if we never lived together again, we were all there when this started. Within the first two or three hundred years of the Elder taking control. You weren''t there, and there haven''t been any newborn since. I can''t believe you.¡±


    ¡°The thing about knowledge over something, is that when it becomes false you don''t have any response. It''s something you''re unprepared for. I think I''m here for, err rather, because of Bacchus, he didn''t expect me either.¡± Dorian nodded once and turned. ¡°We don''t have time for this now anyways. Quena, we''re going to need your help. Moder told me you want out, well, if we do this right, you''ll get that.¡± Dorian held for a moment. ¡°Please.¡± He said without any ambling.


    Quena''s mouth twisted for a moment, but she finally said, ¡°okay, but-¡±


    ¡°Great, now we might want to move.¡±


    ¡°What-¡±


    Holes began to appear in the earth all across the rise, Kurt could sense something going on underneath them and was more certain when a hole appeared in front of Quena. Moder crawled out, looking haggard, repulsive, and in pain. Kurt had never seen him happier.


    Coughing, Moder said, ¡°little Dorian.¡± He smiled a wan smile that was mostly forced. ¡°I think I''m dying.¡± He smiled, part of his lip looked like it had been mangled by a great cat.


    ¡°So, he''s doing well?¡± Dorian asked, and Moder nodded, so Dorian continued. ¡°I''m going to cleanse the people, I have a good idea of how to get it done. Oh, Moder, meet my better half, Ingrid.¡±


    Ingrid''s eyes were wide, and Kurt laughed with an abrasive ¡°ha!¡± Everyone stopped and stared at him for a moment. Quietly, Kurt said, ¡°I reacted the same way, once. I''m Kurt, I''ve heard next to nothing about you, and I''m sorry.¡± Kurt put his hand out and shook Ingrid''s before she had a chance to react in any way.


    ¡°Sorry for?¡±


    ¡°That you picked the silver instead of gold.¡± Kurt said as he looked at Dorian, smirking that asinine smirk.


    ¡°Hey, as far as I can tell, the match still isn''t over.¡± Dorian commented as he rubbed the back of his head. ¡°This is my brother, Kurt.¡±


    ¡°Your brother? You can''t know that, none of us remember our families.¡±


    ¡°Bacchus isn''t what stripped me of my memories, I did that all by myself.¡±


    ¡°All k-k-by your-k-self?¡± Moder asked, incredulous despite his slurred speech.


    ¡°Okay, I had help, but still. Oh, this is Moder, he''s kind of exactly the opposite from what he looks like. In his people''s tongue, his name means mother.¡±


    ¡°He''s a mother?¡± Ingrid asked, horror on her face.


    ¡°Krektek! Kros-sik-ta twenken!¡±


    Dorian looked around, noting the people mindlessly climbing the lower levels of the rise, and a few friendlies nearly to the top. As Dorian turned, he nearly fell headlong into his parents.


    ¡°Gah! What the fuck is that!¡± Rand shouted and had to catch himself on Rita lest he fall backwards down the rise.


    ¡°Oh, Rand.¡± Rita said shaking her head after she helped to balance the overweight Cook.


    ¡°Oh, shit. Uh, sorry to make this all of a sudden, and it''s probably not the time, but Ingrid, I''d like you to meet my parents.¡± Dorian turned her shoulders to face them, and though Kurt couldn''t see her face, his parent¡¯s faces were priceless. Rita wore an expression that said, ¡°not bad,¡± meanwhile, Rand looked like he was about to grab Dorian by the shoulder and say, ¡°boy, you''ve made me proud!¡± Dorian was red in the face, and Kurt guessed his girl was much the same.


    ¡°Parents, Ingrid, Ingrid, Rand Cook and Rita Hunt.¡± Dorian gestured.


    Ingrid snapped her fingers, ¡°I finally get it. Hook! But why didn''t you go by-¡±


    ¡°Don''t say it!¡± Dorian and Kurt said together. Crises averted.


    Coming up the hill, a tall lanky boy groaned as he made it to the top. ¡°Hey, I''d hate to be the one to say it, but does anyone see the writhing mass of human bodies below that are trying to kill us? Maybe we could-¡±


    Dorian embraced him. ¡°Benny! You made it! Thank the Gods, what about Malik?¡±


    ¡°He''s just behind me, I thought I was out of shape, but that guy must by pampered.¡± He stopped, looking wide eyed at Moder. ¡°Dorian, what is that?¡±


    ¡°That is my dear friend, and I''d appreciate it if you weren''t a dick to him. Speaking of people being dicks, have you seen Jack?¡±


    He nodded, ¡°he was with his girl, they''re holed up but safe last time I checked.¡±


    ¡°Oh, where are they, maybe I can-¡±


    ¡°Your rooms.¡±


    Dorian scowled. Face shifting abruptly he said, ¡°Okay, so here''s the plan. Gia-bomb.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Kurt asked.


    ¡°Exactly what I said, I can do it if I can get Malik and Ingrid to help me. What I need is safety until we can get there. Are you all ready? This is going to take some time.¡±


    Kurt, all bravado said, ¡°I''ll fight, but what in seven hells is a blum?¡±


    ¡°Oh right, sorry, old world words are getting a bit jumbled in my nugget. An explosion. Should cleanse everyone, but we''ll need to absorb whatever comes out.¡± Dorian shook his head. ¡°It doesn''t matter right now, can you keep us safe while we do this?¡±


    ¡°Aren''t you forgetting something, Boy?¡± Came a familiar voice. Then a different familiar voice snapped, ¡°I can''t have my shining student standing against the darkness alone, now, can I?¡±


    Turning, Dorian got to see the look on his mother''s face when sister Brenda approached. It was priceless shock, though Dorian didn''t have the first idea what.


    The two woman stood eye level, and now that they stood so close, he came to a realization.


    ¡°Hussy.¡± His mother said, staring the Sister in the eye.


    ¡°Harlot.¡± Brenda replied just as levelly. Then they embraced, and it all made sense as a soft sob escaped one of them. Holy shit! Sister Brenda is my aunt!


    ¡°He was my star student first!¡± Rand said as he approached Brother Michael. The two men were obviously not related, though there was something to the look in their eyes to say they knew each other.


    ¡°Hey son, I''d like you to meet the man who taught me the spear. Meet Brother Michael-¡±


    A hand went up as the man replied, ¡°just Michael now.¡± He held his hand up and a thin ring displayed on his left hand.


    The two woman croaked a sob, so Kurt chimed in. ¡°You guys, this is sincere and all, but probably not the time! Is anyone going to do anything about the black-eyed goons that want to kill, and or eat us? Perhaps fornicate with our corpses a little?¡±


    ¡°Kurt?! What is wrong with you?¡± Quena asked incredulously.


    ¡°What?! They want to kill us, how are we going to stop every person in the valley?¡±


    ¡°K-k-I think I k-k-k-can help there. Kul!¡±


    Through the holes, countless black shapes crawled out, disfigured, all shapes and sizes, with sharp teeth and pointed nose, they screeched a howl unlike any living thing in the valley.


    Benny looked about, wide eyed, and loudly whimpered, ¡°maybe I should have stayed with Jack.¡±


    Dorian wasn¡¯t ready for this, but ready or not, the time had come.


    In the distance, the titans clashed. Their battle scarred the valley, reshaping it with every blow. Dorian had little doubt that most of the hills separating the Wilds and Kresson had been ground to dust.


    Yet, their fight wasn¡¯t just physical. Streams of force surged between them, invisible but relentless, locking the other down. Dorian could feel Ohmer giving everything to break Bacchus¡¯s hold, while at the same time fighting tooth and claw to stop Bacchus from shattering his own defenses. That Ohmer could even move under that strain was staggering. That he could fight like all seven hells were at his door? Unbelievable.


    Now, too, Dorian could feel it, the ever-so-slight difference between Ohmer and the spirit beast. Whatever it was, it was as much a part of Ohmer as anything could be, yet¡­ there was the smallest divide.


    Ohmer was the mass, the core, the dominant force within their bond. But beneath that, buried deep like an ember beneath ash, something else lingered. Something ancient. Something¡­ other.


    It didn¡¯t matter right now, though Dorian made a mental note about it. He hadn¡¯t just bound himself to Ohmer. He had bound himself to Ohmer and this other entity. The thought was unsettling, but through their bond, Dorian could tell that this creature wasn¡¯t driven by violence or malice. It was a blank slate. A force without intent. That, at least, was reassuring.


    What mattered now were the people standing beside him.


    Ingrid, Quena, and Malik stood at the top of the rise with him. Below them, gathered at the base of their refuge, was the last bastion of hope. Dorian reached out, attempting to lift them all higher, to reshape their hillock into a tower above the chaos. Something resisted. Something held them in place.


    The Kul? Maybe. He couldn¡¯t be sure, but at that moment, their immediate safety was secondary to the ones still trapped in Bacchus¡¯s grip. Below them, on the next ring of the rise, stood Kurt, his parents, his teachers, and a few who had resisted the infection. On the lowest ring, the Kul held the front line, standing between the possessed and those still fighting for their lives.


    The scene below was chaos. Not mindless chaos, something worse. The infected moved in unison. Perfect, fluid, impossible unison. Each surge of bodies rippled through the mass, folding seamlessly into the next, pressing forward like a tide. No human army could match that level of coordination. No amount of training could produce that kind of hive mind efficiency.


    It would be minutes before they ripped through the last line of defense. Minutes before they were overwhelmed. Lucky for them, Dorian had a plan.


    The construct Dorian had shaped before them was beyond difficult, it was a feat of intricate precision. Using Shade, he wove the runes together, interlocking them in a way that would amplify the Gia they funneled through it. Every line, every symbol, designed for synergy.


    He had linked with the other three, not a bond, not like Ohmer. More like a conduit, granting him access to their reserves. No thoughts were exchanged. No emotions. Just power.


    Even combined, their raw energy paled against his. Dorian¡¯s strength eclipsed them all. He also knew, without his bond to Ohmer, only Quena would have outmatched him.


    He needed their will. It was hard to explain, like bending metal into just the right shape to forge something impossible. Like building log houses as a child, except there were no pre-cut slots, he had to force the pieces together. To do it right, he had to shape it without Gia.


    Even manipulating Shade without Gia was excruciating, a mental feat as absurd as doing backflips while juggling three newborns with one hand and dueling with the other. With their help, he could bend the pieces without cocking it all up. If he cheated, if he used Gia to aid the change, the construct wouldn¡¯t be strong enough. It would flash once, blinding a handful of the infected, then fade into nothing. A failure. A waste. He had to do this right the first time. Nothing else mattered. Not the sweat stinging his eyes. Not Ingrid¡¯s silent cringe. Not the white glint of Quena¡¯s teeth, clenched in the strain of holding her mind steady.


    Dorian knew what they felt because he felt it too. Shade touched his body like the palm of a giant, twisting him into unnatural contortions, stretching him in ways a man shouldn¡¯t be stretched. The pain roared through him, his vision narrowing to a single searing point, until a new agony cut through the first.


    A hot, wet sting bloomed in his gut. He looked down. The black mass lodged in his belly glinted red, blood spilling down its surface.


    ¡°No!¡± The voice shrieked, high and jagged, part Ken, but mostly Johann.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Dorian shot back, breathless.


    The final pieces clicked into place. The construct was done. He turned to face his assailant, severing the mental link with the other three. The exhaustion hit instantly, roiling through him like a tidal wave, threatening to pull him under. His muscles shook, his vision swam, but he forced himself to stand tall. He met the betrayer¡¯s gaze. Chin high. Back straight. Unyielding.


    Then, warmth glowed through him, starting at his wound. It blossomed through his body, pooling where the pain had been. He didn¡¯t need to look. He knew who it was.


    Honey-colored strands had slipped loose from her braid. Her energy was spent, her body exhausted, but her will remained ironclad. Ingrid had healed him, the shard now gone.


    "Thank you. I love you. Wish me luck." Dorian sent the message without words, just raw emotion, flooding into Ingrid¡¯s mind. It was faster that way. He barely gave himself time to feel her response before turning his focus elsewhere.


    ¡°Kurt.¡± The mental message was crisp. ¡°Take my place. Funnel Gia into the construct from my angle. You¡¯ll know when you¡¯ve got it right.¡±


    ¡°Oh sure, let me just fly up there-¡±


    Dorian was already moving. He pulled together a pile of pebbles with his telekinesis, then flattened them into two smooth stone discs using his stone-shaping Prime. Even before he had reached out to Kurt, the process was already in motion. Without a word, he sent them below, slipped them neatly beneath Kurt¡¯s feet, then launched him skyward.


    ¡°Stay still.¡± Dorian sent, just to be a pain in the ass.


    Kurt rose effortlessly, the discs carrying him up in perfect synchronization. He barely wobbled, but still shook his head as he ascended. ¡°You know,¡± he called audibly, ¡°I hate it when you¡¯re a smartass.¡±


    Dorian smirked.


    He embraced his brother as he landed, trying to sap any measure of mental strength from Kurt''s support he could. Dorian wouldn''t admit it aloud, but down at the center of his soul he was afraid. No, that didn''t cover it, he was terrified.


    Fingering the hole in his tunic, despite the horrid state of the rest of his attire, he frowned up at Johann after releasing his brother. He took a deep breath, feeling the life around him. His family, his friends, his love, they were all there, and he''d be damned if he let them down.


    Dorian cried, ¡°Ken! If you''re still in there, I''m sorry for this!¡± He shouted, bent, and leaped into the sky like a bird taking to flight.

 Chapter 41 - When Gods Fall

    Johann was an angry child, orphaned after the world was reborn. He lacked security, unsure was his way, but kindness opened many doors for him. It was his kindness that brought him to me, his willingness to sacrifice. If only I had seen the evil in him then, perhaps things would be different.


    -thoughts of the first elder


    Dorian burst forth to the sky, stomach twisting as gravity tried to exact its force on him and failed. Airborne, he kept his eyes locked on the platform, on the black robed figure standing there with poor posture, as though despite his youth he still bore the stresses of an old man. A small part of Dorian didn¡¯t want to fight his friend, even if Ken was just a vessel. The rest of him knew the truth, if Ken was still in there, he wouldn¡¯t want to bear witness to the horrors Johann would unleash with his body. Even worse, he would know that his body would be used as a tool to bring pain to the world. That wasn''t Ken, Ken was kindness, patience, and acceptance, even if he enjoyed debate, it was never done maliciously. Ken wanted light to engulf the world, not darkness.


    As he ascended beyond Johann''s platform Dorian sent down several tendrils of Shade to stabilize himself. Floating with telekinesis could sap the calcium right out of his bones at an alarming rate, even what he''d already done likely drained his bloodstream of immediate calcium. Danny had epitomized that fate, one that Dorian couldn''t afford at that moment. Looking down at Johann filled Dorian with two conflicting emotions. Pity, for his friend that had been so greatly wronged, and rage for the entity that deigned to steal another life for himself despite the countless he''d already taken. I won¡¯t allow it.


    "Johann! The Gods are waiting!" Dorian roared, Shade forming in both hands. One gripped by the base of a loop like a sword with a hand guard, the other held by the point, the loop honed sharp like an axe.


    In the distance, two colossi tore into each other, their bellows of pain and fury rippling through the chaos below. On the Colosseum floor, most of the Valley''s entire population began to move, just as light from the four atop the rise poured into the black construct of Dorian''s making.


    Instinct jolted him back, just in time to siphon the heat from an onrushing fireball. Below, Johann scowled up at him. Then, with impossible speed, he shot skyward to meet Dorian in battle.


    Rand watched proudly as his son stood for the entire Valley. The cacophony of keening voices, the frenzied squawking of the possessed below, none of it could pull his attention away. Not when the black-robed figure of the new Elder hurtled a fireball at Dorian. Not when his son, eyes glowing an unnatural green even beneath the midday sun, reached out and snuffed the flame like water sizzling on a searing pan. Not even when, with impossible speed, the Elder surged through the sky to clash with him.


    A hand on his shoulder told him that his wife was concerned too. Her fingers were firm, steady, but he knew her too well to miss the slight tremor beneath them. She wouldn¡¯t risk their own lives just to watch, but even she couldn¡¯t quite look away.


    "Don''t worry, Rand," she murmured. "He''ll be fine. He has my will, after all."


    "And your good looks." He grinned, turning to her. In the corner of his eye, the movement below intensified as the Elder¡¯s attack met the raw force of his son¡¯s defiance.


    For a moment, Rita just looked at him, her expression shifting. There was something there¡ªsomething heavy. When she spoke again, her voice was low, deliberate.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I haven¡¯t told you, Rand.¡± She hesitated, searching his face. ¡°I... I just don¡¯t know if we¡¯ll ever have another chance.¡±


    Rand blinked at the weight in her words, at the unshakable conviction in her gaze. He felt it, deep in his chest¡ªthat quiet pull of inevitability. He swallowed, straightened.


    "I''ll hear yours," he said, "if you''ll hear mine."


    She took a breath, long and steady. "My boon," she admitted, "was to become normal. As though I were never a vessel. I lost my Primes. Lost the ability to touch my own source. And part of that boon¡­ was to remove any memory of what I was before I won. As if I had never left the House of Hunt." She exhaled. "I''m sorry I didn''t tell you sooner."


    Rand was quiet, absorbing the confession. It wasn¡¯t what he expected, but it wasn¡¯t bad. Not in the way she seemed to fear. Yes, it meant their life together had been built on a foundation neither of them fully understood, but¡­ it didn¡¯t change what they had. It didn¡¯t change her.


    She was still his Rita. The mother of his children. The fire that warmed his nights and challenged his days. His partner, his burden-bearer, as much as he was hers.


    He took his own breath then, long and steady. His turn.


    "I threw our match," Rand said, holding her gaze.


    She tilted her head back and laughed, the sound rich and full, but it trailed off when she saw the look in his eye.


    Rand was a patient man, a kind man. A man of duty and responsibility. He was seldom serious. But when he was¡­ it was never for a joke.


    She studied him, something flickering behind her gaze. Understanding, maybe. A slow realization.


    ¡°I¡¯ve lied to you for a long time, Rita,¡± he said, voice steady. ¡°Your lie is little compared to mine.¡±


    Rita didn¡¯t hesitate. She didn¡¯t get angry, or pull away. She just stepped forward, placed a hand against his chest, and said, ¡°Like I give a damn. Now kiss me, you big dumb oaf.¡±


    And he did.


    It was desperate, wild. The kind of kiss that ignited the soul, the kind that knew the weight of now, the kind that burned brighter than the need for air, or life, or reason.


    It was their first kiss, all over again.


    Had the world allowed, they might have stayed that way forever. But the crowd below was growing louder, the madness creeping closer. Rita broke away, breathless but grinning.


    "Now," she said, her voice a playful purr, "show me what you¡¯ve been hiding all this time. And do it by keeping our sons safe."


    Her eyes flickered with something sharp, something wicked. "Impress me, and I might be willing to give you a rematch."


    Rand grinned back, his own was broad and goofy, mimicking hers like a boy caught up in a schoolyard crush. She had always looked so much better wearing that grin.


    She tilted her head, assessing him, then dropped her voice just enough to make his stomach flip.


    ¡°I¡¯ll even let you pick the place. Whether it be on the arena floor,¡± she winked, ¡°or the bedchamber.¡±


    Rand¡¯s ears went red. His grip on his Shade faltered for the briefest moment before he caught himself. Gods, had she always been this dangerous?


    Rita turned before he could respond, drawing a blackened shape from within herself, an elongated figure-eight, her Shade forming into something fluid, something deadly. She twirled it once, let it settle into her palm, and took a stance. Then, she was gone. Rand followed.


    He reached deep into himself, let his instincts guide him. His Shade stretched, curved like a wicked crescent, sharp at both ends. Then, without thinking, he pulled, elongating it further, shaping it beyond what should have been possible. He didn¡¯t know how he was doing it, only that his body knew. His memory knew.


    And oh, it felt good. He gripped his source, and light poured from him. It surged through his limbs, igniting something young inside him. Strong. As he stepped into the fight, into the storm of bodies, a laugh bubbled up from his chest.


    Gods, he thought, it feels good to feel so young.


    Kurt¡¯s eyes darted everywhere, trying to track it all, but it was too much. The battlefield was madness, his parents battling like seasoned warriors, Dorian soaring through the air, torn between hurling and being hurled, and the titans... Gods above, the titans were reshaping the very land.


    Then there was her. The one that managed to capture his heart, and whatever feeling he had toward her, it demanded he pay her mind. Quena looked so pale that he thought she''d topple over at any moment. He wanted to go to her, to catch her before she collapsed, but the stream of green light tethering them in place held him back. She looked like she could crumble at any moment, yet her expression was iron, unshakable. Kurt grit his teeth and focused on his Gia.


    The other two, Ingrid and... whatever his name was wore similar expressions. Faces determined, likely trying to fight that giddy feeling one got when touching the light. Ingrid was focused, but she stared upwards, likely watching Dorian''s every move. What''s his name was looking at Kurt, however. Feeling awkward, Kurt started to turn his attention away when the other guy winked at him. Wow, Kurt thought, and I thought I had bad timing.


    Dorian braced himself, gritting his teeth as he readied for another clash. Johann wasn¡¯t just dangerous, he was relentless. A man didn¡¯t live as long as he had without being damn good at survival.


    Their battle was a mirror of the titanic struggle below, their bond reflected in the war waged by the beasts. Where Ohmer and Bacchus fought with raw, unrestrained fury, Dorian and Johann fought with control. Their war wasn¡¯t one of reckless abandon, it couldn¡¯t be.


    If either of them unleashed their Primes the way the colossi did, their bodies would tear themselves apart in minutes. This was a fight of attrition. Of baiting. Of raw, unrelenting power.


    And Johann, for all his cruelty, had plenty of that to spare.


    Some Primes functioned only internally, making certain abilities fair game, fortitude, telepathy, anything that didn¡¯t manifest physically. External forces, like time manipulation or telekinesis, were dead on arrival. The moment one of them attempted to exert control over the other, it was countered, nullified, erased.


    Heat manipulation was different. It was localized, subtle, an ongoing war of siphons and counter-siphons. If Dorian could sense the point where Johann drew energy, he could sever it with a well-placed strike. But there was no rhythm to it. No pattern. Fires were easier to counter, but only after they erupted into existence.


    Eventually, Ken¡¯s body would burn through its magnesium reserves. The question was when. Hours? Days? If Johann was the most efficient energy manipulator to ever walk the earth, it might take forever. Hours before his muscles weakened. Days before his heart gave its final, fatal spasm. Dorian clenched his fists. He wasn¡¯t willing to wait that long.


    Dorian didn''t have days, he had minutes, but every time Dorian turned to unleash his own volley of heat, Johann was there, wicked tendrils weaving beyond Dorian''s defenses. Every time, Dorian would erupt with light, shunning the blackness back or stealing it, but there was always more. This went on for what felt like an eternity, though it had likely only been a few minutes. He was getting frustrated, and knew he shouldn''t give in to the sudden disdain he felt.


    ¡°I grow tired of these games, betrayer.¡± Dorian sent Johann, his opponent stalling out.


    ¡°Oh, my sweet succulent piglet, the games have only just begun!¡± Dorian received as Johann launched himself towards Dorian.


    Dorian braced with his Shade as best he could, but though one''s Shade was hard it was only as strong as what it was braced against. In this case it was Dorian and the stone of the Colosseum, and even though he was fortified by his Prime, so was Johann. Dorian swiped both his weapons, his makeshift ax and sword, in a crossing motion as his opponents body came close. Johann had expected as much and flung his own tendrils out in mass to either side, engulfing Dorian''s Shade and nullifying his attack. Johann''s body collided with Dorian''s. The world blurred. The sky tilted. Then they were falling, hurtling toward the Wilds below in a whirlwind of tangled limbs and roiling blackness.


    Rand was alive like he never had been. His bulky body moving in a way he thought lost to him by time. He twisted, struck another foe, turned to parry one black eyed madman as another fell to the light that erupted from his free hand. There was a new sense in himself, and that sense stretched to everything around him, with exception to the stone of the Colosseum he could feel where everyone was. His wife was busy dispatching a woman who had felled a Kul and was busy tearing him apart with her bare hands. Kurt was pouring his own life''s energy into that bit of whatever that Dorian had made, and-


    ¡°They are called the Mainades, and they tear the flesh of their sacrifice. He calls it sparagmos, which is the second stage of their madness. When they commit omophagia and eat the flesh, the host becomes tied to the infestation permanently.¡±


    Rand would have shit himself right there if there weren''t a horde of angry ¡°Mainades¡± trying to kill him. The voice was heard but not with his ears and it reminded him of...


    He heard a sound behind himself and blindly swung his Shade. He felt it pass through something, but didn''t have time to find out what as he followed through with his movement, lopping off the arm of the next poor sod to stand against him. He was Randall Cook, the greatest spear man to ever walk the Valley, and his presence would make a difference. To the Valley, to his wife, to his sons- ¡°yes, for your sons,¡± the voice echoed.


    Rand couldn''t help but agree as he threw himself back into the melee.


    Dorian tumbled through the air like a jagged stone, wind resistance doing little to slow his spiraling descent. The world spun. Sky. Earth. Sky. Earth. Then, impact.


    He struck the ground hard, bouncing once, twice, three times before he slammed into an oak with bone-rattling force. His body rebounded off the thick trunk, momentum bleeding away as he crumpled into the underbrush.


    Dazed, he rose groggily, vision swimming as he fought to find his bearings. The Colosseum was distant now, Gwendon little more than a smudge against the horizon. The scent of dead leaves and damp earth filled his nostrils, he had landed just past the tree line of the Wilds. Strangely, comfort settled over him. This was home. The scent, the silence, the primal energy of the Wilds pulsed through his body, grounding him.


    Exhaling slowly, he looked at the bowed section at the base of the oak that had slowed his rebounding body, and felt a pang of sadness that the oak would likely die for it. The indentation told him he''d be dead ten-times over if he hadn''t been fortifying his body with his Prime, further cementing a building fear that he might lose consciousness.


    ¡°I know of you, Dorian Hook!¡± Came the voice of the Grand Elder. ¡°I''m playing with his memories right now, and oh so sweet they are. You know, you were one of the reasons he agreed.¡± He began laughing maniacally, his voice echoing from somewhere above. Dorian didn''t move a muscle, not in fear or hesitation, but with patience.


    Dorian responded with his telepathy, rather than giving away his location, and sent, ¡°you know nothing, betrayer!¡±


    The laughter cut off abruptly.


    Johann was on him in an instant, his Shade snapping like a whip. Dorian barely had time to brace before the attack came, missing by a fraction of an inch but striking the trees behind him with enough force to shatter trunks like kindling.


    Dorian didn¡¯t retreat. He gripped his Shade, drawing from the wellspring of his Primes, and surged forward. His strike connected, shockingly, sending Johann hurtling backward.


    Now it was Dorian''s turn to take the offensive. Hesitant to do so, Dorian gripped his Prime in time manipulation, accelerating his body six fold. He was hesitant because without paying close attention his skin could harden up like stone in the blink of an eye, sloughing off of him like a meat suit the first time he tried to move. Regardless, he gambled it to take full advantage of Johann''s downed state.


    To anyone else, it would seem that he became a blur. To Dorian, however, everything slowed to a crawl. He ran, using his strength fortification to keep the wind from cutting at his face. Thinking on the fly, he sent a thin layer of Shade to cover his eyes, as even bits of dust or dirt could cause serious damage at that speed. Though he intended this as a precaution, the result was something entirely different. His Shade, instead of behaving like protective eye wear, molded itself to one of his eyes that already had Gia sitting in the iris. His vision twisted slightly, one half baked in light, the other seeing something he didn''t understand. Black tendrils thick as trees seemed to grow from where Johann was and stretched outward. Following it, he spotted the two colossi, Ohmer ripping in to the tentacled creature like a predator before a feast. From Ohmer stretched another tendril, this one light rather than dark. It stretched all the way back to Dorian himself.


    Grinning to himself, Dorian gripped his Shade, molding it to the shape of a staff. Even though he was moving at ridiculous speeds, he could still see the pulsing coming from their bonds to their colossi, their rhythm like that of a heartbeat, both fueling themselves and feeding the other. Throwing caution to the wind, Dorian was on top of Johann, smashing down with every bit of might he possessed. Over and over, he swung and connected. To Ken''s face, his shoulder, his chest, flinging him down harder and harder. Johann brought up a hand, but Dorian knocked it away. When his vision began to blur from his now brittle hair falling over his eyes, he was forced to let go of his Prime.


    Had he known that Johann had just activated his own, Dorian likely wouldn''t have dropped his. Faster than he could follow, a hand came up, a dark light emanated there. For just a moment Dorian could see the shape of the runes that rested against Johann''s skin. Three interconnected triangles that ran infinitely between the shapes, a part of Ohmer''s memories gave him a word, valknut, that went with a warning. Unfortunately, Dorian''s brain hadn''t registered what that warning meant before it was too late.


    The dark light that had coalesced pulsed, then erupted with sheer force. It flowed out of his hand like a waterfall breaking upon rocks below, but instead of rocks it was Dorian that the force broke upon. Everything blurred as he was flung from his surroundings.


    Kurt almost faltered as the ground beneath him tried to shake him from the top of the rise. Still, he funneled his life''s force into the black construct that seemed to resemble a knot of thorns. Looking around, he found the reason for the earth shaking so violently.


    The two colossi had landed on Gwendon. The city, its buildings only small compared to the Colosseum, now lay in ruins. The two beasts were still fighting, still clawing and ensnaring, still looking for the final blow. The monstrosity that climbed out of Dorian hardly resembled the cute little Garru that used to scare the lights out of Kurt for laughs. When he thought about that time, what seemed just yesterday, he was filled with the desire to smile for how simple that era of his life was.


    Now Ohmer wasn''t about practical jokes, it was flapping it''s wings and standing taller, doing all it could to prevent the amalgam of blackness from getting a top-down angle on him. As Ohmer''s claws raked at the black and his jaws seemed to tear at another tentacle, those wings beat so hard that debris the size of boulders were flung away from it. It was completely terrifying to see the beasts fight, it made Kurt feel small and insignificant before the vastness of such massive entities.


    Movement out of the corner of Kurt''s eye had him ducking before he even knew what was going on. He couldn''t break the link of light funneling from his body in to the construct, but he could still move. A black eyed woman had the look of one gone rabid, but instead of frothing white, black goop dripped from her snarling mouth. She lunged again, instinctively Kurt tried to grip his Shade but found he couldn''t. Just as the the woman''s hands were about to grip him, a black spear shot through her face. Her whole body dropped, feet coming out from under her. She was pinned to the ground as she her body spasmed once before going limp. Kurt''s jaw dropped, though he wouldn''t have noticed if not for what happened next.


    Light beamed over the woman, Kurt only noticing now that the spear had a slight curvature to it. Following the light back to it''s source, Kurt was shocked to see his father coming from his left.


    Before Kurt had a chance to speak, his father said, ¡°close your mouth boy, it''s just your Da.¡± Picking up the spear of Shade, Rand stood next to his son for a moment to survey the field. Kurt was so invested in the construct that he couldn''t supply a retort.


    Looking about and finding what he was looking for, Rand put a hand on Kurt''s shoulder and said, ¡°you''re doing great, son.¡± He smirked then hooted once before running back to the fray.


    As Kurt digested the words, his light seemed to shine just a little brighter. It was then that everything seemed to stop as a cacophonous roar echoed from the city of Gwendon. Not one of triumph, but one of pain.


    Rand left his son to finish the job his other son had started. His wife was in the thick of it, the Mainades had surged closer to the top as they felled and feasted on the Kul. Michael was next to Brenda, holding the line of a natural path that led to the top of their rise. A few of the possessed had slipped passed the defenders, which is why Rand had broken away from the line. Now that he had hunted down the last of them-


    Rand felt more than heard the beast snarl in pain. In his head, he could hear a man screaming as though he were being flayed alive. Rand gripped his head and squatted down, for some bit of that agony seemed to pulse through him. When his wits returned, Rand saw what had happened, Dorian''s beast had been standing on its hind quarters, but the black mass that reminded Rand of a river squid had shot its tentacles low, swiping out the other beast''s legs. The black mass had latched itself on to the beast''s throat and began to pump like a throat guzzling water.


    Another cry came from behind him as everything blurred back into motion. Kurt was shouting, ¡°I think it¡¯s done! It wont take anymore!¡± Turning, the black construct was now moving on its own accord. It was pulling light in from everything around it, even himself. He felt slightly sluggish for a brief moment before he grew accustomed to the sensation. Just as he prepared a spear to throw and another to fight, a ragged voice spoke in his head. Fret not, Dorian. It works as intended. Bacchus hasn''t sensed it yet. To the construct, Dorian, to the construct before its too late.


    Dorian tried as hard as he could to get his bearings before gravity took it''s due, but for all he tried to stiffen his body, he still spun through the air wildly. Just as the moment came that he remembered he could telekinetically push himself, he collided with the peak of a steep hill. The stone exploded quickly, and even though it hurt, he was grateful for it. For the briefest moment, his subconscious mind supplied the answer to his location, just as he crashed through the small peak and began bouncing off the earth that rose to meet him. He was at the edge of the Wilds, the separation between Kresson and his home.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Despite having just landed, Johann was already there. He must have been channeling his Prime hard, because even as the first strike from his tentacle-like Shade came down, Dorian glimpsed the last of Ken''s hair gently falling to the ground. Another overhead strike came, this time even harder. Dorian was bleeding from his nose as well as several other locations. His iron reserves must have been dangerously low, he felt nauseous, and was bleeding more freely than he should be.


    He tried to get up, but another pang of force pinned him to the earth. Then a second lance of blackness appeared in his vision as Johann was right on top of him. As this happened, Dorian felt something in his mind click, and another part wail. His eye could still see the lines of the bonds that ran towards their colossi, despite his vision being blocked by Johann. Dorian''s bond grew thin while Johann''s seemed to surge. In Dorian''s mind he heard, ¡°Fret not, Dorian. It works as intended. Bacchus hasn''t sensed it yet. To the construct, Dorian, to the construct before its too late.¡±


    Dorian flailed, trying to free himself from the grip of the twisted man that had stolen his friend, but found himself caught fast as the darkness covered his neck and mouth. He couldn''t breath.


    ¡°You thought you would steal it away from me? This is my moment, I have waited countless lifetimes you wretched fat grub!¡± He was frothing at the mouth, spittle flung freely as the manic man raved at him. ¡°Do you know what it cost?!¡± He laughed, madness tinged the sound, a madness that seemed to want to worm itself inside Dorian''s mind and latch itself on to his sense of fear, dread, and terror. ¡°It cost me everything! And you wish to take it for yourself?! It is mine! The freedom! The world! The power!¡± He began laughing as he pressed harder.


    Dorian''s vision was blurring at the edges, his head pounding, his ears popping, he tried to cry out but found his mouth flooded with the Shade, no, the Kraken of this evil thing that was once human. With no other option, Dorian sent a telepathic, and empathic, cry for aid. In a single instant, he managed to relay the intentions of the man that was strangling the life out of him, managed to express the death of the Valley and all life there. The forest of the Wilds gone to gray, the trees broken and lifeless. In an instant, he relayed the end of everything.


    Flailing like madness had come over him, Dorian tried to cry out as his world began shrinking, his mind drawing back as the image of a bald Ken smiling down at him would be the last thing he saw. That was until he caught the sight of a pale body falling from the sky, carrying a dark... something.


    ¡°No! Not this time, ki-trik-nek eriq, nerokos Turt!¡± A gout of flame consumed the image of Ken, then Dorian was being hauled to his feet by something that had to be eight feet tall, hands larger than Dorian''s over sized shoulders setting him right before heading towards the threadbare robed figure. Johann was just standing so Dorian took the moment of opportunity to fling several bolts of Shade at the man. Two glanced away, but the third one managed to stab solidly in to Johann''s shoulder.


    Johann didn''t even flinch, just absorbed the Shade as he looked towards Moder''s pathetic form. ¡°Is this all your work, Moder?¡± Johann asked contemptuously.


    Moder cackled for a moment before saying, ¡°I have dreamt of this day since the moment you changed me, made me your puppet... but with enough time even your will can be beaten. The Bacchus has left you, even if our Shades are the same, fire cares not for what it burns.¡± He smiled, despite how haggard he looked. Then, a stream of flame came washing towards the Grand Elder.


    Johann laughed, ¡°even your little project over there knows better,¡± he said through his chuckle. His hands came up just as the flames should have incinerated him, instead the flames wrapped around Johann, his laughter echoing beyond the white noise created by the surging fire.


    Johann took a step towards Moder, then another. Then he was running, covering ground as though there was nothing there. Moder screeched a scream of defiance and the flames grew white hot. Johann slowed, but didn''t stop until he was standing right in front of Moder. As though there was nothing there, Johann slapped Moder with such force that Dorian saw the white of bone briefly before Moder''s body limply fell to the ground.


    Turt leaped at Johann with the fever of a bird fending off an intruder from its nest. Johann must have been nearly out of iron in his blood himself as the blows actually had an impact. Hissing, Johann backed away, gesturing with his hands as stones began to fly through the air. Dorian was trying to catch his breath, but knew that if he waited, Turt too would fall to the man.


    Just as Dorian took his first step towards the disaster that was unfolding, a mass of movement out of the edge of the Wilds caught his eye. He glanced briefly then had to look again. Disbelief written plainly on his face, Dorian watched in awe as every creature of the Wilds, carnivore and herbivore alike, ran towards them. They were hooting, howling, snarling, and everything else in a mass of movement aimed directly for Johann.


    Turning, Dorian was nearly bowled over as the great lions of the Kressian plains, second in size only to the great bears of the Wilds, ran pell-mell towards the one that would destroy all life. Turning back to Johann, he had Turt by the neck and was walking towards Moder''s broken form.


    ¡°And they call me the betrayer. Moder, my beloved project, it¡¯s time to wake. Bear witness to your punishment.¡± Dorian heard this mostly in his head, Johann''s control must be slipping if he''s sending freely like that. His back turned to the coming stampede, Johann hadn''t noticed until it was too late.


    The lion''s roar, the sound filling Dorian with a sense of dread and of pride. He grinned to himself for the pun, but quickly found himself running with the fray. Johann had been toppled over by one of the lions, leaving Turt prone next to Moder.


    Dorian was a few strides away when he caught a scent in the air, one that sent his mouth watering like it never had before. The eruptions of blood and pink mist coming from the center of the swarm made Dorian''s heart ache for the animal''s good intentions, but it also reminded him how dangerously low on iron and calcium he was. There must have been a gazelle in the fray that Dorian hadn''t seen, because a bloody leg managed to fall to the ground in front of him. Unable to stop himself, his reptilian mind took hold and pounced on the leg. He squeezed it, letting the hot blood fill his mouth a few times before using his now reinvigorated strength to tear the meat off the bone.


    Uncooked bone was much softer than cooked bone, so he filled his mouth with as much as he could chew before running over to the two that had come to save him. Interlinking his Shade, he wrapped the two tight around himself and stuck the remainder of the bone in to his thigh. His body would absorb the bone that way as well, he knew, though how effective it actually was, he didn''t know.


    He readied as many units of his Shade as he could, stretching each thinly and growing them out from the back of his shoulder running down the length of sides to his hips. He bowed in respect to the animals he shared a home with, not with words but with ideas. He sent, ¡°honor to those that fight to live. Delay the creature, if you can, and life will pass the test of this day.¡±


    Then, somehow knowing that Ohmer was near the Colosseum, Dorian used their link like a compass, and launched himself towards the arena. Rather than push himself the entire way, he used his Shade like wings to drift upon the winds. He had to conserve every bit of energy he had, his fight wasn''t over yet.


    Once the construct had ¡°finished,¡± all four of them fell to the ground in exhaustion. Kurt was sure that he lost consciousness for a spell, because the next thing he knew a sleepy eyed Quena was slapping his face.


    ¡°Wake up! Kurt! Come on, come on! We need to get away from this thing, like right now!¡± Perhaps it was the piercing way she shouted that got Kurt to move, or perhaps it was the fact that he could feel something wrong, either way he was on his feet trying to keep pace with Quena and the others. Malik, the thin man was stumbling downhill, if not for Ingrid to steady him he''d have likely rolled rather than ran.


    ¡°What the fuck is happening?¡± Came a cry from the other lanky friend Dorian had managed to rope in to this mess. Benny, his name is Benny.


    Kurt looked around, that thought wasn''t his own. Dorian?


    ¡°I''ll be there soon, I''m not doing so great, I take it you finished the construct?¡±


    Kurt replied with a mental grunt as he dodged a madman frothing black from his mouth. Kurt punched him in the face and sent him sprawling back down the hill to where the Kul were fighting. Well, most of them were fighting, some of them were eating, as were some of the people.


    ¡°Dorian, I blame you for this whole fucked up situation.¡±


    Laughing, Dorian replied, ¡°you know, I do too. Hold it together, I wont be long. Get away from the construct, its tuned to me alone.¡±


    ¡°Well, that would have been good to know!¡± Kurt shouted in disbelief. Quena turned to him looking quizzical. ¡°Sorry, Dorian''s in my head. Should be here any-


    Dorian''s voice boomed in his head, ¡°to the people of the valley, all that still hold their sanity, take cover with the Kul! Kiton-krek instik tu teth!¡±


    A black spot was suddenly visible in the distance, coming from the direction of Metan. The earth shook as walls went up in front of the Kul, not very tall, but enough to keep the black eyed ones back for a time. The Kul swiftly started heading towards the holes in the earth, gesturing to the people around them where to go. One tried to herd Kurt along but Kurt gestured to himself and said, ¡°kin,¡± then pointed to Dorian. The creature replied, ¡°rek,¡± which was the Kul''s equivalent to ¡°whatever.¡±


    ¡°Come on Kurt, we should get inside. I don''t have much left to fight with, I''m barely standing, which means you should be about dead.¡± Quena said to Kurt as Benny came up from behind.


    Kurt shook his head at Quena when Benny said, ¡°how the hell did he do that! Do you see that wall? That-¡±


    ¡°You''re such a fucking idiot,¡± Quena said as she pushed Kurt. Kurt fell on his backside as he said, ¡°he''s my brother, it''s my right. Go, all of you,¡± he gestured, ¡°he cares for you all. Get to safety, he wont let me live it down if any of you get hurt.¡± He took a breath, surprised that he was winded, and rested himself against his knees. He had to grip his head to keep it upright.


    Someone sat beside him, at first he thought it was Quena, but found that the person''s outline was too short to be her.


    ¡°You especially, if you die, I think he''ll kill me.¡±


    Ingrid shook her head, ¡°I have the right, just as much as you do.¡±


    Quirking an eyebrow, Kurt said, ¡°I share blood with the guy, what on earth thinks you have anything on that?¡±


    Quick as a whip, she said, ¡°perhaps not blood, but we''ve shared more than enough bodily fluids to-¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡± Kurt''s hands went up, ¡°I wont say a thing so long as you don''t finish that sentence.¡±


    Rand was trying to get to Rita, but the Kul around them were audaciously pushy. They kept herding him in different directions down the tunnels until it was pitch black.


    ¡°Rita! Rita! Where are you?!¡±


    ¡°Rand?! I''m over here!¡± His wife called back, her voice bouncing off the stone walls, leaving him half dazed.


    ¡°Sharik krek kikki, I k-k-can show you.¡±


    Something gripped his shoulder and led him down the tunnel. Blind as he was, there was a part of himself that could feel his wife. This power that his son had awakened in him, it was something else entirely. The dark and the light both, they were elation incarnate, but despite how great he felt as he touched those wells of power, it was nothing to the fire he felt for his wife. Like magnets, they were drawn to each other in the dark, their embrace coming on like a storm. They only broke that embrace so that they could kiss, the scent of her sweat consuming his mind, the feel of her wild hair gripped in his hand, her small frame pressed against his body with the absolution of a river flowing.


    Breathless, she said, ¡°Rand, our boys.¡± He could feel her concerned expression even without seeing it.


    ¡°I know, beloved, I know. I''m scared for them too.¡±


    He held her as she wept, held her tight. He held her with his arms, comforted her with his love, and supported her with all the hope he could muster. Rand kept nothing for himself.


    Dorian floated downward, pulling in the bits of his Shade he had used to drift through the skies. For a time in his travel he was taken in by the breadth of the Valley, and its beauty. He had idly wondered what it would be to live free, to soar the skies like a bird, to explore the vastness and wonders of the world. It was wishful thinking, he knew, but, by the Gods, what a wonder it would be.


    Dorian landed hard, releasing his passengers just before momentum carried him into a rough tumble up the slope. It was intentional, though he doubted his brother would believe him. He left the two on the ground, he doubted they''d be moving any time soon.


    ¡°Dorian, what''s the big idea? Hey, is that Turt?¡± Kurt asked as he stumbled over to Dorian.


    Dorian nodded, still catching his breath. ¡®Yeah. Saved my ass back there. Them... and the lions.¡±


    Looking confused, Kurt barely had time to blink before Ingrid tackled Dorian in an embrace so fierce it nearly crushed what was left of him.. He hissed in pain as he was becoming very aware of his terrible state. Some of the blows he had taken had pulverized his body. He''d never torn a muscle before, but some part of his studies or perhaps the memories he''d inherited, seemed to inform him of his state. He had torn several muscles in his core, part of his shoulder was pretty much just for show at that point, and his ribs more closely resembled a haphazard stack of firewood than anything else. Regardless, he wouldn''t have traded that embrace for anything in the world.


    Smiling, Dorian asked, ¡°miss me?¡±


    She broke away, nearly sobbing, she slapped him. Dorian was shocked for a moment but took it in stride. ¡°So, you really missed me?¡± She smiled up at him, and despite the onlookers, kissed him breathless.


    Breaking off, she said, ¡°you''re an idiot.¡± Then she hugged him again.


    Dorian looked up to spot his brother grinning, not wildly, but subtly. Shaking his head, Kurt whispered, ¡°you dog.¡±


    Dorian''s grin was the one to grow wild and reckless as he asked, ¡°since you''re all idiots, I take it you have a death wish.¡±


    ¡°All? It''s just me and-¡±


    ¡°Ingrid and I,¡± came Quena''s voice from behind. At the same time, he felt a pinch on his backside that made him fix his posture post haste. Looking over, she winked at him. ¡°I can''t have my favorite boy-toy getting hurt, now can I? Besides, I was here in the beginning, only seems right that I should be here at the end.¡± She nodded to herself once before setting her jaw.


    ¡°Right,¡± Dorian said as he pried Ingrid from him. He murmured something to her and she bobbed her head twice in affirmation. ¡°Quena, do you know how to link?¡±


    Taken back, she said, ¡°of course. I''m surprised you do.¡±


    ¡°Thank Ohmer,¡± he tilted his head, ¡°he''s not doing a poorly as it looks, though he is growing weaker. I don''t know how much time we have, but the construct only needs a few more minutes. If you link with me, you can step within the sphere of the construct.¡± He gestured towards the top of the hill, the sphere of light surrounding the construct growing denser by the moment. ¡°We have to have an active cord, a line of evenly split Shade and Gia.¡±


    Shaking her head, Ingrid said, ¡°No, I can''t do that.¡±


    Quena chimed in and said, ¡°if he can, all you have to do is will yourself to match it, your body will do the rest.¡±


    Ingrid seemed to take this in for a moment, then said, ¡°I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully, we wont need it. The real problem is keeping the Maimonides, the ones taken by Bacchus, from removing the construct. Ingrid, Quena, can you shape enough stone to raise those walls? I''m afraid I''m nearly out of sodium, anymore and I might have a heart attack.¡±


    Shaking her head, Quena said, ¡°not all of us are amped up on whatever is strengthening you, I could do it, but it would take half a day. What about you, Ingrid?¡±


    She was shaking her head but was cut off by the vile sound of Johann''s voice as it bludgeoned against Dorian''s mind.


    ¡°What a beautiful creation, and what a fantastic plan. That construct is a work of art, I must commend you.¡± He laughed, and it filled every space in Dorian''s mind. ¡°Did you honestly think you stood a chance? You? The fat little idiot that thought he could challenge a God and it''s vessel? It is time to end this little game.¡±


    Kurt watched as Dorian ran uphill to stand in front of the construct. Kurt had to watch Dorian''s eyes to spot the Elder, the young man was at the very edge of the Colosseum, his back facing the creature they called Bacchus. The menonads, or whatever Dorian had called them, had stopped moving. In fact, if Kurt didn''t know any better, he''d swear they weren''t even breathing.


    The siphon of Gia from the construct had stopped, it was doing something now. A white light seemed to flow along the edges of the thing, encircling it like a runner on a repeating path. Slowly, the light ran its circuit, every time it completed one it seemed to pick up speed.


    Even if the construct had stopped its siphon of Gia, there was a new pull that Kurt felt tugging at his reserves. Gia flowed out of him before he willed it back to himself and bore down on it. It was flowing towards the elder, a dark energy seemed to gather around him.


    In front of the construct, Dorian recalled the shape of the runes Johann had used. Patiently, he wrapped the bits of his Shade to interlink in the same shape when he heard Ohmer in his head. ¡°No, that is his way, not yours. Like this.¡±


    Ohmer''s voice was distant, like a whisper, but the image that was relayed reminded Dorian of the scissors Kurt had shaped to cut Dorian''s hair. The two circles at the base of his Shade touching, the two lines crossing outward. It operated much like his will-cast construct had. The power he funneled through the circles to create an infinite loop, the two lines of his Shade leading the flow of power outward. It made sense, though only because of his link to Ohmer. Simple.


    Drawing on all the Gia he had, and every bit that surrounded him, he threw all he had into the infinite loop, letting the power grow in intensity. His mental awareness of all the Gia around was stretched, at the edge of that awareness, Johann was pulling power to him like a drain in a stone sink.


    Scowling, he wrenched control of the Gia away from Johann. The sudden shift rippled through the air, and Johann¡¯s mental gasp cracked like thunder across the Valley. ¡°So, you have steel in you after all? Then, let us have an end!¡± The laughter filled Dorian''s mind for a moment before he beat it back, wrenching his will over Johann''s, doing all he could to deprive the madman of any advantage.


    The sensation in his right hand was growing to a crescendo, it made him feel like he had filled his mouth with brache, like when he was just a boy digging out the pits with Hans. His skin was on fire, his senses overwhelmed, he witnessed Johann lower his hand.


    Dorian raised his, putting all his accumulated power into the runes, and released. A thick beam of light shot out of his hand, it felt as though a torrent of wind and ice was using him as a conduit. Power flowed through him and out.


    His flow was met halfway by its opposite, the dark light emanating from Johann''s hand seemed to cancel out Dorian''s beam. The two forces collided, creating a field where they met. Johann''s laughter stopped abruptly as he doubled down, fighting against the tide of Dorian''s will. Like reverse tug of war, they pushed, the center line wavering back and forth as their powers waxed and waned.


    But for all the times that the center point moved, it seemed that Johann''s power waxed more than waned, the center coming closer to Dorian. Still, Dorian struggled, putting all he could in to the power struggle.


    ¡°The center, do not let it touch you! If it does, you will be obliterated!¡± Came a cry from Ohmer. Still, Dorian''s waning power had taken him too far that day, he was exhausted. He pushed all he could, everything he had, but it wasn''t enough. Dread buried itself deep within his core, a seed planted, Cultivated to full size in the blink of an eye. ¡°No,¡± he thought to himself, ¡°for all I''ve done, no!¡±


    The center point came closer and closer still, now so close that the dust around him seemed to get drawn into its pull. Just as Dorian thought it was over, he felt a hand on his should.


    He looked over to his side, Kurt was looking down at him. ¡°You know, you don''t have to do this alone. Let me show you how its done.¡± He was smirking like a Gods damned fool, but when they linked, the purity of Gia that flowed from Kurt was unbelievable. Like the power of Gia was wholly untapped until Kurt showed him the way. The thought ¡°the fire itself¡± echoed through his mind as Dorian grabbed hold of the burning core of his own being.


    Just as Dorian began to draw on his source the same way Kurt was, another hand came down on his shoulder, severe in intent, but somehow still caring. Dorian turned to see Ingrid, the smile on her face one that made his heart soar. Not for the simple romance, but for the fleeting hope of the life they could share, for the love they would create over the course of a lifetime. She too was pulled in, and in doing so, gripped her own core in the same fashion.


    When the new flows of power came together, Dorian had to brace the wrist of his right hand with his left. He felt a low growl coming from his throat, felt the absolute faith in him from the two he cared for so deeply, and felt the fiery rage at himself for nearly letting them down.


    Together, they pushed the center of the colliding forces toward Johann. Not quickly, but steadily, it grew closer and closer to the madman. He had lost his control, and was sending blindly now.


    ¡°No! No, no, no! Bacchus! Do not abandon me now! Come to me! He cannot stop us now, but they can! Bacchus! Your servant beckons!¡±


    The moment the light threatened to consume him, a shriek tore through the battlefield. Darkness surged, towering, monstrous, then rushed into Johann, sinking into him like blood into parched earth. The shift in power was so immediate that Dorian gasped. The mad laughter invading his mental space stretched his mind paper thin.


    At the same time, he thought he could hear a new kind of hum, not from his hand but from directly behind himself. The construct was nearly ready, if he could just hang on. Somewhere in his mind, he heard the strangest thing, and Dorian''s heart broke despite the surge of hope he felt. ¡°When you have to lead, let it be from a place of need. Dorian, Kurt, never has a father been so proud.¡±


    Rand didn¡¯t need to hear the battle above to know something had changed. He and Rita felt it, something immense, something final. Their sons were fighting for their lives, and he was holed up down in the dark. Small bits of Gia had been summoned to light the tunnels, but conservation was still a concern. There may yet be more fighting. Even Brenda and Michael, having found them a few minutes ago, were quiet as whatever struggle was happening unfolded, likely wondering what, if anything, they could do to help.


    In his mind, more clearly now, the ancient voice spoke again. ¡°Rand Cook, your children fight for the Valley.¡±


    ¡°I can tell.¡± He replied, not sure what else to say.


    ¡°And yet, you do nothing?¡±


    ¡°I wield the spear and the spatula better than any man alive, but for this? I have no tool. No way to save my children. Tell me, what would you have me do?¡±


    The entity laughed, not in mockery, but in something deeper, delight. As if no one had cracked a joke in a thousand years.


    ¡°I never had any children, instead, I raised the Valley. I nurtured those early people, all of which are long dead now, excepting the betrayer. What would I have you do? You might not have the tool, but you may become one.¡±


    ¡°Then, what am I to do?¡±


    Dorian watched as the center of the two forces plowed towards him. The construct was ready, but he wasn''t sure if he could hold out. His father''s words were still playing in his mind as movement came from his peripherals. Something large, Ohmer, had moved in the same way he did when they merged. Dorian didn''t understand, why was Ohmer abandoning them now?


    The humming was so loud behind him now that he knew the construct would go off any second, but the rate at which Bacchus was pushing the center back, he had a matter of moments. Just as the was close enough to begin pulling Dorian off his feet, a figure spun through the air towards Bacchus.


    ¡°How does a man ask for everything? How does one demand another''s sacrifice, not for their own sake, but for the ones they love? How does a man claim that he cares enough for another¡¯s children, not his own, yet his own in spirit, that he, too, is willing to die so that even one of them may live? How does a being tell another, this is the cost, and I ask you to pay it?¡±


    Rand took a long moment, not in hesitation, but in acceptance. He sighed through his smile, closing his eyes as he let the words echo through his mind.


    "I think you already know the answer," he thought. "And I think you already know mine."


    "Then make your peace," the ancient voice replied. "When you are ready, agree." The ancient voice was hurried yet somber.


    Rand sat for a moment. He wasn¡¯t afraid, nor was he frozen. He drank in the moment, savoring it like it was the finest thing he¡¯d ever cooked.


    He reached out and found Michael. Nodding his head to himself Rand said, ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Eh? Uh, whatever for, Rand?¡±


    Not replying, he reached over and hugged Brenda. He whispered, ¡°be patient for her, she has a temper.¡± Brenda tilted her head but before she could respond, he moved on, to the one that defined him. To his wife.


    Rand laughed. A full, bellowing, chest-deep laugh that thundered through the tunnels, shaking dust from the stone. The sound was too large, too full, too alive. That was why it sent chills through the spines of all who heard it. Rand passively noted a few staring at him, and he could care less.


    He picked Rita up and swung her in a circle, laughing all the while.


    She slapped at his chest, flailing against his grip. ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you?! Our kids are up there fighting for their lives!¡±


    ¡°My love-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you ¡®my love¡¯ me, you fool!¡± she spat, her voice cracking with raw frustration. ¡°They¡¯re fighting! It¡¯s not over! Can¡¯t you feel them?!¡±


    He smiled, then said, ¡°yes, but it will be over soon.¡± Rand knew the exact length of breath she took before a tirade. Knew the shape of her face through countless arguments, countless kisses, countless moments that had shaped them both. So, he did something he had never done before. He cut her off.


    ¡°Enough, woman!¡± he boomed, his voice cracking through the cavern. She stopped. Everyone stopped. Quieter now, he said, ¡°I know that. But I won¡¯t have this be my end.¡±


    His breath hitched. His throat tightened. And then the tears came, unbidden, unstoppable.


    ¡°You¡¯ve given me everything, Rita. You¡¯ve sacrificed, you¡¯ve given all. If I were half the man you deserved, I¡¯d be ten feet tall and strong as an ancient oak.¡± He choked, breathless. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t have the words.¡±


    He swallowed hard. ¡°You are the retainer of my heart, and you fill me to overflowing.¡±


    She took a step forward. ¡°Rand¡­¡± Her voice broke. ¡°What are you saying?¡± Though she said it, something in her voice told Rand that she knew.


    Rand sobbed once, just once, before he pulled her so tightly against him that if he held her even a fraction longer, he might have crushed the air from her lungs. He kissed her, praying his desperation didn¡¯t burden her. Salt stung his lips, mixing with the bitter taste of heartache.


    For the last time, he touched the core of his Gia, letting it light his eyes just so he could see her face one last time. Gods, she is beautiful.


    He smiled, the light blurring his vision after just a moment, but the moment was all he needed. ¡°I have to save our children, Rita.¡±


    She started shaking her head violently with the whites of her eyes on plain display. ¡°No, no, no you don''t! No, Rand, I''m telling you, I will leave you! Don''t you dare-¡± He could se her fury, her panic, her terror.


    He hushed her. ¡°I wont lie to you, Rita.¡± He spoke gently, soft but certain. Like his little Dorian, so small, so curious, his voice carried a resonance that said conviction. ¡°I love you, and if I''m so lucky, I''ll love you again in the next life.¡± His hands lingered, his smile trembled.


    ¡°Goodbye, beloved.¡±


    Her mouth opened, another plea, another protestation. Rand wasn''t listening because as he said his last farewell, he sent back to the ancient, ¡°I agree.¡±


    Just like that, most of Randall Cook was gone. He knew he wasn''t Rand because the pleading cries of his life and love didn''t change his mind. Knew it couldn''t be him as the stone opened beneath him to move him to where he needed to be. Knew he was no more as the echoes of her heartache bellowed against the walls and he felt nothing, nothing but the need move.


    He flowed through the stone like a fish through water. The tiniest part of himself arrested the will to send a message to his children just before he arrived at his final destination.


    Quena assaulted Bacchus with everything she had. Every Prime surged at once, a blur of fire, stone, and force. She moved like a tempest, her blade a streak of silver, carving into the abomination with fury alone to sustain her. Bolts of pure blackness lanced from her outstretched hand, blows that would have felled men, felled titans.


    Bacchus jerked, his body spasming midair, his focus still locked on the beam of force wrestling against his own. For the first time, he felt pain. For the first time, he faltered.


    And for the first time, he turned. Quena froze mid-air, hanging weightless before him.Then, Bacchus opened his mouth, a tentacle burst forth. It struck her like a hammer of the Gods, flinging her beyond the walls of the Colosseum. She vanished, and Dorian¡¯s breath caught.


    But before he could react, another figure erupted behind Bacchus, and something shifted.


    The bond between Dorian and Ohmer twisted, pulled, unraveled, then rushed into this new presence. As swiftly as Bacchus had merged with Johann, Ohmer poured into the one behind him. The hum of the construct stilled.


    Dorian recognized it instantly, the pull, the shift, the knowing. It¡¯s Rand, it¡¯s my Da!


    His father¡¯s arms splayed wide, fingers latching onto Bacchus¡¯s form. His voice was calm, unwavering, final.


    ¡°It is time, Johann, for me to teach you the lesson you taught me.¡± A pause. A breath. A farewell.


    ¡°How to die.¡±


    The construct erupted.


    A bowl of power slammed shut around the two figures, sealing Bacchus against his antithesis. The light was blinding. The air screamed. Dorian felt it all, the weight of the Valley, the weight of history, the moment of reckoning.


    The beam of force drove backward, shoving into Bacchus with the might of all creation. The wall of light rose behind him, closing in, sealing fate.


    For a single, terrible second, Dorian heard it. His father¡¯s annihilation mingled with the mad laughter of a dying God.

 Chapter 42 - Sacrificing the Sun

    ¡°Ours is the only cluster created that involved each of the Three. Though, I speculate that the other two had exhausted themselves in their prior endeavors, which is why there is such an abundance of life here. You see, the reservoir, once it meets the first threshold, will spawn a vast forest, further compelling the flourishing life we need to protect this plane. Fret not little one, we won''t be sealed away with this forever. After a long enough time, once life has cycled and our population has grown large enough, we will seal away that being, whatever it is.


    You see, my father tried to save us, and in a way he did. How was he to know? It was theoretically possible to make a wormhole, but how could he know where that wormhole went without testing it?


    Don''t you see, Johann? The most monumental moment in science came at the cost of its unmaking. Now, we have a new science, in a way, this will be our path, this will prevent us from ever needing to flee the earth. Will you help me in this, help me make the earth a new paradise for our people?¡±


    -Memories of the first Elder


    Quena woke just outside of the ruins of Gwendon. The sight of the destroyed city sent a pang of sadness through her, mostly because it was the only part of this tiny valley that she didn''t absolutely hate. The people, the culture, the civilization. Now what had it come to? A heaping mass of stone and debris.


    Just then, a shifting in the two beams of force caught her eye. The center point, whatever it was, had shifted quick as a whip the moment a flash came from somewhere inside the Colosseum.


    The flash expanded looking for the world like a bubble of light, a perfect sphere except the point where Bacchus stood defiant. The bubble bent around him, until finally whatever was stopping the flows of Gia gave way. For a moment, the light consumed the entirety of the Colosseum, pure and unwavering. Quena gasped as vines of blackness began to grow all around the sphere, wiggling as it went.


    After a long drawn-out moment the entire sphere was black, pulsing like a heartbeat. Somewhere from within, the light found a way to penetrate the unearthly blackness, shining brilliantly through the cracks. Then, like a damn bursting, those black vines burst and dispersed into the massive sphere. The light went black, then gray, then settled into a deep forest green.


    The sphere twisted, which made her stomach roil with vertigo as something so massive shouldn''t be moving that way. It was as if the entire sky had shifted, the backdrop to her vision had twisted her equilibrium in a primitive and carnal way leaving her gasping once more. The twisted sphere continued to twist, picking up speed, it resembled a cyclone of unbelievable proportions. Down and down it drained into something, the source of the light? Or perhaps... No! All that power...


    Kurt watched as Dorian''s body spasmed from the vortex of deep green, it siphoned to him like a drain or perhaps iron to a lodestone. Kurt tried to move to him, but a wall of force kept him at bay. Ingrid, for her part, was just trying to hang on. She too was trying to move towards Dorian, but whatever force he was taking on created a radial effect like a windstorm in the Wilds. Kurt finally couldn''t stand it, the wind and debris buffeted his exposed skin but he managed to put an arm around Ingrid pulling her down. He shouted, ¡°cover your head!¡± then went prone as he covered his own head with both arms.


    His eyes were shut for what felt like forever. Despite the turbulence around him, Kurt''s recent expenditure of power had left him feeling as though he hadn''t slept in weeks. The wounds he''d accumulated at that point were beginning to harry his will to remain conscious, and the pull of the great quiet drew him in even as the flows of power battered at his beaten body.


    If he lost consciousness, he wasn''t out for long. The abrupt stop to the mayhem was enough to rip him away from the warm embrace of sleep. He rubbed at his eyes as he reached down to help Ingrid up.


    ¡°Get off of me, you-¡± she gasped as she looked to where Dorian was. Kurt turned to behold the sight of his little brother, something about him seemed so pure but another part held some kind of terrible power. He was glowing, and not figuratively either. He was like a massive bonfire of light, if not for the late afternoon sun, Kurt would have been blinded by it. At the same time, that terrible dark seemed to sit at the very center of Dorian''s light. Like a void of space where a soul should be, Dorian''s presence carried a mixture of dichotomies. Dark and light, existence and non, hope and despair, purity and perversity, and more that Kurt simply didn''t have the words for. It broke his heart to see Dorian carry such a burden, but, by the gods, he was something to behold.


    Taking a deep breath, Kurt leaped and shouted, ¡°holy shit! Holy shit, Dorian! Dorian!¡± Kurt found himself running, pumping his fists in the air, racing Ingrid to get to Dorian first. Dorian was looking upward, eyes shut, consternation on his face. Kurt didn''t care, he tackled his big little brother to the ground just as Ingrid wrapped him up in an embrace. The result was a flailing of limbs that lasted less than a breath as each of them felt the mantle of their exhaustion settle upon them. Coming to a knee, Kurt smirked down at his brother who was still frowning.


    ¡°Dorian, what''s wrong?¡± Ingrid asked, Kurt noticed an irregularity in her voice and smiled to himself as he realized what it was. It was care, perhaps even love. A small pang of jealousy ran through Kurt at that, he didn''t know what he had with Q. Oh shit, Quena...


    He nearly voiced it but was interrupted by Dorian''s response.


    ¡°What''s wrong? Right now, I feel like I just ate ten plates of my mother''s worst cooking, and every morsel of it wants to see the light of day.¡±


    ¡°Woof, that has to be awful. I think I have an idea of how you feel, I felt something like it when I cleansed Dad.¡± Kurt commented, looking out at the ruined Colosseum.


    ¡°Kurt...¡± Dorian said, then hesitated.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Kurt replied, recognizing something pained in Dorian''s voice.


    ¡°Kurt... I, I think...¡± Dorian swallowed, then tried again. ¡°I think the figure that grabbed Bacchus, Kurt, I think... I think it was Dad.¡± Dorian said, casting his eyes about.


    ¡°Wait, you mean,¡± Kurt shut his eyes and found himself trying to rub the dirt out of them. He looked back to Dorian who was running his fingers through his unkempt hair, whatever had bound it before had long since disappeared. Dorian''s face changed and Kurt felt a movement around his hips and thighs. Looking down, a layer of rock had formed there. Ingrid was doing the same thing when the ground suddenly started growing distant.


    Dorian was... he was something. He didn''t know what, at that moment he was having a hard time managing the twisting storm that was his mind. He felt like a bird in a windstorm, every time he thought he had found succor he would be ripped away, launched back into the maelstrom. His body responded, his desires still emanated from himself, but the rest of the blank spaces of his mind were merging with the essences of Bacchus, Johann, Ohmer and... Gods, Gods please, no.


    Dorian merged the pebbles and bits of stone together into an amalgam of liquid rock and sent it to each of their party, creating a harness of sorts. He then used telekinesis to pull them upwards, towards the edge of the arena, to the final resting place of something that was neither God nor demon. He wasn''t worried about draining his calcium, with the amount of power he possessed, he doubted he would burn up enough of his own calcium stores to affect him, even if he had remained airborne for an entire week.


    Though he hadn''t meant to, he had begun to empathize with that evil creature. Such unbridled power, it was intoxicating. Dorian didn''t feel good at that moment, he felt great. Great like the heroes he read about as a child, great like a mountain, great like the people of legend so long past that the tale of their stories has become more fiction than truth. That sensation rippled across his body in waves, but what Dorian''s body felt couldn''t be more juxtaposed to what his mind was working through.


    They landed on the very edge of the Colosseum. Dorian''s heart sank as he was given proof of what he already knew was true. The pile of clothes were tattered and shredded, the black robes sundered to the point of being rags, but the other clothes, the other clothes were what made him fall to his knees.


    His face hurt, hell his whole body hurt, but he was made aware of his face as the wet began running down it. A very small corner of his mind was in wonder that something as simple as the sensation of wetness was enough to agitate this realization. That small corner was, however, overshadowed by the roar in his head, pushed away as secondary as grief and pain stole over his senses.


    He was on his knees, hands hovering over the pile of tattered clothes, afraid to even touch the truth. With the reverence of a priest at worship, he gripped his father''s clothes, and all sense of keeping himself together broke like a clay mug against stone floor. His face lowered to them, as though he could hide his shameful tears in the barrel-chested man one last time, like he had when he was just a child, like he had when he was just a babe.


    Something inside the clothes shifted and yelped. Part of Dorian was grateful for the distraction. Despite the rivers flowing from his eyes, he managed to gather enough temperance to reach through the neckline of the tunic.


    A sharp pain, then a sudden rush. Realization had dawned on him. Though his bond to Ohmer had disappeared, the bond to the innocent spirit beast that Ohmer had merged with hadn''t. Now that Dorian was exposed to the creature without another medium, he was surprised at how naive it was. It was like a newborn, a complete blank slate. Ohmer must have overridden the poor creature, must have taken over all semblance of sentience the creature possessed, hellbent on his vengeance. There was communication, but it came across as images and emotions rather than words, much like how Ohmer had communicated to Dorian when he was just a Garru.


    Greetings, Dorian felt more than heard. He echoed the sentiment, then the creature that crawled beneath his skin tried to relay something more complex. It came across as, self, becoming, not self, sleep?


    Though the method of communication could be very precise, conceptually, the creature really didn''t understand much. It really was like a newborn. Dorian understood why Ohmer had done what he had, but he didn''t understand how he could do such a thing. This creature was innocent, Dorian wasn''t a leech to steal this creature¡¯s essence.


    No, self remains self, other remains other, perhaps together? Dorian replied, unwilling to force the creature to anything against its own will.


    A vibration thrummed through Dorian then, a warm exultant sensation, the creature was happy. He took that for a sign of agreement. Does other possess memories?


    A pause in the vibration signaled understanding. Small, fragments. Tale from old evil. Tale of old, pride, first defeat of old evil. Righteous human know tale different. An image crossed the bond, an image of Bacchus in his former body telling the tale of three hundred tyrants with the audacity to fight against the overwhelming might before them. Then, just as quickly, the story passed across his mind from the opposing perspective. A story of a great king, and those brave enough to die fighting for something they believed in.


    Why this story? Dorian asked, curious.


    Hero... determined? Not understand.


    Dorian hesitated, not understanding either. He decided to change the subject to practical matters. I, self, named Dorian. You, yourself, what name?


    A long quiet passed when a hand came down onto his shoulder. ¡°Dorian, is it really his...¡± Kurt choked out. Dorian knew he was looking away, doing all he could to hide his pain.


    No name, am creature, fight bad.


    Dorian was drawn between the two moments. Luckily, communicating with this new thing happened at the speed of thought. Everyone should have a name, even creatures. Do you want to take the last one''s name, Ohmer?


    A sour sensation crossed the bond, much like chewing burnt meat. Okay then, what do you want to be like?


    Dorian realized how stupid the question was, the creature had little to no experiences to speak of, let alone memories of people or figures he wished to emulate. Regardless, the spirit beast responded as though it had been waiting to speak.


    Self, be like hero. Hero from tale. Several emotions came across the bond, excitement, conviction, pride, strength.


    You mean Leonidas?


    A hum vibrated through the bond, but Dorian replied, Gods, but that is a mouthful. How about Leo for short?


    Affirmation came across the bond in an uplifting way, drawing Dorian out of the sadness his eyes were seeing and into the hope and joy that Leo was emanating.


    ¡°Dorian, what''s wrong? Hey, you hopped up numb skull, what gives?!¡± Kurt was shaking Dorian. Though all he wanted to do was bask in the warmth of this innocent creature, the reality that was before him came crashing back together all at once. My father, my father is gone. The hum that came from his bond spoke of unending sadness, hurt so deep that only emotions could express its magnitude.


    That hurt stirred something within him, like a briar thorn bush had rooted itself in to the soil of his soul and had grown to full size in a heartbeat. Then, for no reason whatsoever, he began laughing madly.


    Kurt reeled back for a moment as Dorian''s body shook. He was laughing hysterically, though it sounded pained, as though he was weeping through his chuckling. The dark part of Dorian''s power had replaced the omnipotent glow he had just a moment before. Now, looking at Dorian made Kurt realize all they had gone through. Perhaps the loss before them was too much for his little brother to handle.


    Kurt was sincere when he said, ¡°Dorian, it''s okay. It will be okay, we can-.¡± Kurt cut off as Dorian''s eyes opened, black as midnight. His tears ran black as well, making his face a visage of the disturbed. Kurt had his hands on Dorian''s shoulders despite how closely Ingrid had gripped him. Kurt shook Dorian once, ¡°Dorian! I need you to snap out of this, what''s going on?! What do we do?¡±


    Dorian started chuckling again, then rocking back and forth as though he were in immense pain. Between the laughter he managed to choke out, ¡°reservoir. To the reservoir. Return the Bacchus. Below the vault of dead,¡± he hissed air inward. After arresting control of himself, he managed to say, ¡°we have to go to the Monastery Temple, where they train the priests. We have to go, I can barely hang on.¡± One eye seemed to glow faintly behind the black and a low thrum vibrated through the air around him. Dorian''s voice shifted, getting deep and gravely. ¡°Now, Kurt, before it''s too late.¡± Then he shrieked a sound that was more keening than scream, more animal than man.


    ¡°Ingrid, can you get that side? We need to go before the-¡±


    A white spec in the corner of Kurt''s eye was the only warning he had before Moder popped into view.  He levitated downward, or rather, lowered himself with a thousand fine hairs of Shade. Before Dorian he stood, looking down at his once ally, mostly nude save for whatever he wore to cover his groin.  Their purposes no longer ran together, which put Kurt on edge. That was until Moder bent a knee before Dorian, bowing his head. ¡°I, I am wholly yours now, master.¡±


    Dorian, shaking, glowered at Moder for a moment before a hesitant hand came up. White light surrounded the two, small wiggling inchworms began flowing out of Moder and into Dorian. The light grew brighter and brighter until Kurt was forced to look away. Exhausted, Dorian''s body went limp and suddenly Kurt was very aware of three things.


    First, that Dorian was fucking heavy. Second, that Kurt was unbelievably exhausted, and finally, that there was a wide-eyed near naked man gawking at them from where Moder had stood.


    The man looked down at his hands in wonder, inspecting every inch of himself along the way. He smiled a heart wrenching smile as he said, ¡°it doesn''t hurt.¡± Then louder he said, ¡°it doesn''t hurt! I''ve just grown so used to the-.¡±


    ¡°Moder! Celebrate later, we need your help.¡± Ingrid said, strain in her voice. The man stopped inspecting himself and looked up to her. He nodded once as he moved to get up, then Kurt interrupted.


    ¡°I don''t know how long we have before they all start waking up, but there''s going to be a lot of panic happening when it does. Moder, a naked man isn''t going to help things or keep us from notice.¡± Moder seemed to understand as he looked around. He reached for the pile of clothes when Kurt, a bit of an edge to his voice, said, ¡°a wise man would take the robes and hand me the rest.¡±


    An intense look came from the man, his eyes the brilliant blue hue of an undisturbed pond. He robed himself, the fit a bit snug, and handed over what was left of Kurt''s father. Hurt later, Kurt thought, though it was a bitter one.


    Quena felt odd as she began her slow walk to the ruined Colosseum. She felt something in her head that simply didn''t fit right. She knew that the tyranny of Bacchus was likely at an end, but she felt nothing for it. Nothing had changed, she was still trapped in this wretched valley, still trapped with these simple people. It made her angry, unbelievably angry. Her balled fists should be aching, instead she simply shook with the desire to have the freedom she''d been promised.


    She had been stewing on this for the better part of twenty minutes when four weather-worn figures came limping out of the front entrance to the Colosseum. If not for the one they were carrying, she wouldn''t have recognized them, but she did recognize him. Recognized the power he held, even at this distance.


    A sudden lust for power came over her for a moment but she swiftly put it down. She wanted freedom, freedom above all... But power is tantamount to freedom, is it not?


    The thought came unbidden to her mind and she swatted it away like a fly. After her stay in the Wilds, she kept certain things on her person, bitrus fruit something she had grown fond of that she seldom went anywhere without a few seeds. She took out the seeds, planted them, and Cultivated them to full growth. She harvested the fruits, taking special care to work out the center point of each to keep the seeds. She had altered these, added some necessary minerals to its general makeup, and amplified its bio-availability. In other words, she had altered the fruit to make it practical, as well as delicious. She peeled the skin off one and wrapped the other two inside her tunic.


    When she caught up to four of them she had to fight an unnatural urge to hurt them. Inside her mind, she was confused as to what would make her feel that way, but swiftly she battered it away. ¡°Hey!¡± She called, ¡°I brought food, it should help!¡± They slowed their haggard gate to wait for her to catch up.


    ¡°Gods, aren''t you a sight for sore eyes. We need to get him to the reservoir, it''s somewhere inside the Monastery Temple.¡± Quena tossed a fruit to Kurt who immediately began tearing the skin off. He made quick work of the chore and peeled a large wedge from the rest of it. Ingrid and some hansom man had lowered Dorian to the ground, then promptly collapsed upon the ground. They were disheveled, cloths torn and frayed, dirty, sweaty, and blood stained. They looked like they had been through seven hells and reluctantly admitted to herself that she probably didn''t look any better.


    It had taken Kurt more than five minutes to wake Dorian enough to get him to eat. Sadly, Kurt was pretty sure that the lucid state Dorian achieved was more thanks to the vibrant citrus notes in the air rather than Kurt''s incessant goading. Even slapping the broad-shouldered man wasn''t enough to stir him, but when Kurt had accidentally squeezed some the of juices out of the Bitrus fruit, Dorian''s sudden and abrupt alertness nearly made Kurt laugh out loud. You can make the pudgy kid into a muscle-bound monster, but inside he was still Kurt''s chunky little brother.


    He veraciously consumed the fruit, falling back to the ground, he was unconscious faster than Kurt thought possible. He smirked for a moment before he remembered that he was the one that would have to carry the big lug.


    ¡°Quena, are you okay? I don''t think we would have won if you hadn''t attacked Bacchus when you did. Even so, it was a near enough thing.¡± He was scratching the back of his head before he said, ¡°I was pretty worried.¡± He smiled, doing his best to hide everything else he was feeling. Worry for his brother, loss for his father, concern for his mother and sister. Gods, I thought this was all over.


    A quick series of expressions flowed across her face, outrage, anger, malice, vindictive fury, sadness, but finally settled on a quiet smirk that rested between curiosity and satisfaction. ¡°You really were?¡±


    He nodded, then embraced her. Her body was rigid against his, so he pulled away, a question on his face that she answered before the words could come to light.


    ¡°I, I think I''m still reeling a bit from that. I was flung pretty hard, if I had passed out before the landing I wouldn''t have made it.¡± She was quiet for a bit but was quick to return to the task at hand. ¡°I think I can feel some large stone, give me a moment and I can help get his big ass to the priest''s Monastery without killing you.¡± He nodded and made for the others, checking on them as he went. Moder was just happy. Not just happy, no, he was completely elated. The smile on his face was something that Kurt envied. Carefree was Kurt''s standard operating perspective, but the burden of worry was keeping his mind from all else.


    Stone began to flow out of the soil around Quena. She couldn''t move as much as he had seen his brother move, but she could Shape with an intricacy that Kurt hadn''t seen yet. Ingrid got up and started to mirror the stance Quena had assumed, and shortly thereafter stone came flowing out of the ground. It looked much like muddy water when they shaped like that. A few quick words between the two women and suddenly Kurt understood what they were making. A small wagon, axles and all, had been created just big enough to carry a few days worth of firewood, or perhaps, one over-sized Cook.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Dorian woke just as two people, Kurt and someone he didn''t recognize, were hauling him out of a makeshift stone cart. They were at the Monastery Temple, the false Monastery, the true center to their dystopian society.


    ¡°Ingrid,¡± Dorian wheezed, his throat feeling horse. He looked around for her, confused and feeling a sudden panic. A hand rested on his cheek, though the touch was gentle, her hand was calloused from long hours of working the quarterstaff. He calmed, breathing in her scent as her eyes filled his vision.


    ¡°It''s okay, we''re here.¡± She said softly. Ingrid? Speaking softly? Oh, seven hells, what did I do?


    A frown from her concerned face was noted before Kurt''s laughter filled his ears. ¡°That''s my bro, he must be fine after all.¡± Dorian didn''t have to look to know that reckless grin was on Kurt''s face.


    ¡°You didn''t do anything, now come on. If you''ve got enough will to crack wise, you''ve got enough to walk.¡± Ingrid didn''t sound all too pleased about the comment, but he felt an undertone of laughter to the words. It wasn''t plain, likely only Dorian noticed it. To anyone else, he must have seemed mad, but the smile it brought to his face was enough to make him feel light as the wind itself.


    ¡°You''re probably not wrong, though if someone wouldn''t mind.¡± Dorian said, tapering off towards the end of his statement.


    Kurt was there quickly, lifting Dorian''s arm over his neck he said, ¡°not the first time I''ve had to carry your big ass.¡± He groaned as Dorian''s weight settled on him.


    As they came to the entrance, a melodic tenor said, ¡°I''m sorry, but this is as far as I go. If I''m right, then I should see to my children. Thank you for everything, young knight,¡± a patting sound came from Dorian''s right, just beyond Kurt. ¡°And to you, little Dorian.¡± The man came into sight, the stranger from before. It was Moder.


    His hair was fine, a burnished brown so light that it took on hues of red. His eyes were crystal clear blue spheres, his hairless face seemed to glow. Dorian smiled, disbelieving what he saw. He nodded once, saying, ¡°can''t say I blame you. Goodbye, Moder. May you and your people prosper.¡±


    The statement seemed to take Moder back a spell before he began his walk. Dorian took a moment to look back just as the light of the sun became eclipsed by the doorway. Moder was heading right back to the Colosseum. A mother returning to his children, proud determination outweighing any power Dorian could ever claim to master. He bowed his head once more, not because Moder could see him, but because respect should be shown to those who possess the conviction to continue living. For all Moder had desired death, his newfound freedom didn''t remove the commitments he had made, rather than retreat, Moder rose to the call of his people.


    Kurt had handed Dorian off to Ingrid, he did what he could to lighten her burden, but for all his attempts he heard her exhale sharply as she bore the brunt of his bulk. Surprised by how low he had to bend to have an arm around her, he thought, Gods, was she always so small?


    He had her help him to the side of the doorway as they waited for Kurt and Quena.


    Quena hadn''t been facing them, instead, she was looking out over to the horizon. The sun hadn''t quite set, but a few clouds were blocking most of the intensity of the sun''s light. Kurt said, ¡°I''d give a full token to know what you''re thinking right now.¡±


    ¡°I''m thinking that after this, after he does whatever he has to do, that we''ll be free. The time bubble this valley has been under is going to break for the first time in only the Gods know how long. I''m thinking that I need to take a moment and appreciate this one final lie, for the simple fact that it is final. The last time I see a false sun, the last time I live the lie that it really is the end of a day. The next night I see, the stars will be true, and the blue of the sky not some artificial construct, but the truth of the world as it really is.¡±


    They all sat on her words, let them resonate within themselves. They had lived a lie, had been duped for all it was worth. Leo too was taking in the words, his thoughts churning though no words followed, just a low hum of warmth throughout his chest. Quena took a long breath and raised her hand in a rather rude gesture to the sky. ¡°I''ll catch up, I''ll be right behind you.¡±


    Kurt shrugged and turned towards the other two. Coming to Dorian''s open arm, his face wore an expression of confusion mixed with worry as he cast his arm around Dorian''s shoulder. Ingrid and Kurt helped him off the wall just in time for a surge of pain to topple him over, screaming. He writhed on the floor for a moment, agony ripping any sense of self away, he felt as though he was being ripped apart from the inside.


    A counter to the pain blossomed, deafening it but not removing it. Leo was doing what he could, thank the Gods, trying to hold Dorian in one piece long enough to empty this taint into the reservoir, back to where it belonged. He took a breath of relief before he came up to his hands and knees.


    ¡°Sorry, it almost had me there. It''s okay, Leo is helping.¡±


    Ingrid was there first, but Kurt followed quickly after. ¡°Who''s Leo?¡± She asked, sounding a bit bewildered.


    ¡°Like Ohmer, but not. Leo got Ohmer out of the reservoir chamber, err...¡± Dorian thought on explaining further but didn''t think it necessary.


    Kurt said, ¡°err, what? Come on man, you can''t leave us in the dark like that.¡± His arms under each of them now, Dorian could hear the footsteps of Quena as she followed.


    ¡°It doesn''t matter, but Ohmer originally called it the engine room. It''s the place where the reservoir is channeled.¡±


    They came to the first Draw Tunnel, and though Dorian could have made them a Shade casing that was large enough for all of them, Quena beat them to it. When she gripped her Shade, he felt something off about it. He noted it, but didn''t dwell on it long, the pain he felt was taking up most of his mental faculties. After going through the first draw tunnel, Ingrid broke the silence to resume what Dorian had been talking about before.


    ¡°So, we''re not going to the reservoir, but the end of it?¡± Ingrid asked.


    ¡°Something like that. The reservoir itself is massive-¡± Dorian slipped as they made their way down a narrow set of stairs. They would have all fallen in a heap of Quena hadn''t grabbed Dorian''s tunic. It ripped, finally giving way, but was still firmly attached to his belt.


    ¡°You break your neck now, and I''ll be stuck here forever.¡± She whispered, something desperate and dangerous in her tone.


    Placing a hand on the railing, he found it was easier to get down with Ingrid''s help rather than Kurt''s. All three of them could be a disaster, as he recently realized.


    As they walked, Dorian continued what he was saying before, more so to have something to focus on that anything else. ¡°The reservoir itself is huge, it takes up more than a third of the Valley. Bacchus thought that it was leaking or broken. Some part of Johann had hidden that away, had led Bacchus to believe that the reservoir wasn''t working anymore. This had the opposite effect, of course. Bacchus figured he could continue to fill the reservoir with Gia so long as he filled it faster than Gia could leak out. In a way they were both wrong and right.¡±


    Ingrid had raised her hand and moved the locks to the doorway in to the sacrificial chamber. The heavy door swung open, the sight of the chamber forcing memories into Dorian''s mind. He keeled over and wretched bile and acid to the stone floor.


    ¡°What''s wrong?!¡± Ingrid exclaimed, her voice echoing through the chamber.


    Dorian waved her away, wiping his mouth he said, ¡°his memories, they make me sick.¡± A brief wave of pain washed through him just before Leo''s vibration numbed the pain to a dull throb. Putting a hand up, he touched his source, and even if doing so was blindingly painful, he managed to touch the triggers that would open the circular flooring.


    The smell of rot that greeted them made him want to heave all over again, but he knew it would only be a waste of time. Now that they were close, he knew where to go. Feeling oddly better despite the stench, he pointed their way downward.


    ¡°Let me,¡± he said before he drew every bit of warmth out of the nearby stone and pushed it in to the pile of bones. The dead man on top went up in white heat for just a moment. He hadn''t meant to, but his Primes were beyond amplified. Tenfold would be an understatement, he knew because he was able to incinerate the human remains while keeping the residual heat contained. Within a few seconds, he removed the heat, redistributing it throughout the stone he had taken it from. One didn''t think of cold stone as warm by any stretch, but he knew he had pulled heat from an incredulously large area. Too cold for humans was nothing compared to how cold it could be.


    ¡°We can go down, it¡¯s not hot anymore.¡± He said, though it pained him.


    Kurt, Gods love him, jumped in as soon as Dorian said it was safe. For a split second, he worried for his older brother, worried he had put too much trust in him and in Quena. Not the time, Dorian.


    Ingrid helped lower Dorian on to Kurt''s shoulder. After putting Dorian against the stone wall, he gestured to help the other two down. Ingrid laughed once before saying, ¡°no,¡± flatly. Quena only scowled.


    Dorian heard Kurt mumble, ¡°so much for chivalry,¡± as he gave Dorian a shoulder to lean on.


    They moved swiftly down the narrow stone corridor, the air heavy with dust and silence. Before long, they came to a dead end. A solid wall of stone blocked their path.


    Without hesitation, Dorian lifted a hand. The rock obeyed. It peeled away, shifting aside in fluid motions, revealing the passage beyond.


    That was when he felt it. Quena¡¯s fingers closed around her Shade, the familiar pull of energy brushing against his senses. But this time, Dorian knew. Knew exactly why his hackles had risen before. She was infected.


    Kurt watched as the stone wall opened like a blooming flower. The smell of freshwater and lichen filled his nose, the sound of rushing water and the feel of humidity on his skin let him know that they had one more ride before their return trip home. Gods, home? What does home even mean now?


    Quena had crafted another makeshift container for them to ride down in, it wasn''t comfortable by any stretch, but with the day he''d had, he didn''t want to take Dorian''s speeding bullet craft. It was more fun, sure, but at that point, Kurt was ready to take the slow ride down. He had the rest of his life to have fun.


    They rode their way down, passed the ¡°dilation¡± fields that made his guts twist, until they began gently bobbing. The sphere they rode down in opened to reveal a wall of light that eclipsed the entire chamber. It wasn''t hostile light, oddly, it didn''t hurt his eyes in the least despite the pitch black inside Quena''s construction.


    When the waters brought them closer, Kurt gripped his Shade to make two hooks. He anchored them in place and got out, gesturing to Ingrid to hand Dorian off to him. To his surprise, Dorian managed to stand on his own, though he still took the offered hand to get out. As soon as they touched, Dorian''s voice echoed through his mind.


    ¡°Help me out, pretend like you can''t hear me, and give me an arm for support.¡±


    Kurt didn''t pause, just helped Dorian out and began walking towards the wall of light. The sound of scraping came from Quena''s Shade rubbing against the stone, which was signal enough to the two of them that they were following behind closely.


    ¡°Okay, Ingrid is already aware. I couldn''t send from a distance without being sure we couldn''t be overheard.¡± Dorian''s voice said in Kurt''s head.


    ¡°What do I need to be aware of that you have to mentally discuss with your girlfriend as you make those smooching sounds¡± In Kurt''s head, he mimicked the sound as well, which made Dorian redden slightly.


    ¡°I''ll need help restraining Quena. She''s tainted, Kurt. She''s probably not even aware yet, but whatever small part of Bacchus is left in her will fester and consume her, the same way it had for Johann. Do you understand?¡±


    Kurt''s stomach dropped as he gave mental ascent. ¡°You can remove it, without hurting her, right?¡±


    A mental grunt was all the ascent he needed from his little brother. He could tell that Dorian was strained by something, all that Kraken flowing through him. He had managed to purge a small portion, but what Dorian was containing was an essence that had no place in this world, purging it himself was probably impossible.


    ¡°I can''t believe it,¡± Dorian said with a sigh of relief. They were only a few steps away now and stalled before the wellspring of power. Dorian''s hand went up, and a thin line of Shade came out of his hand. Like braided cord, it stretched out to touch the wall but seemed to fall short.


    ¡°No!¡± Dorian''s voice said in Kurt''s mind, he had little doubt that the other two had heard as well.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Kurt asked.


    ¡°I can''t, there''s some kind of barrier. Fuck! What do I-¡± She''s moving, now!


    Kurt turned just in time to eject a raw blur of bolts to intersect what Quena had launched at them. He crafted two units of his Shade together to create a bar that ran the width of his body and ran for all he was worth towards Quena. She barely budged, laughing a little as he heaved with all he had.


    A light shot from Dorian, encircling all of them. Something pulsed in the bond he shared with his brother, and suddenly, Quena was slammed against the wall hard enough to send her head rebounding. Holy shit, what just happened?


    Dorian was there beside him, pushing to hold her there. She thrummed, and suddenly they were heaving each other back and forth down the hall. Dorian grunted, while Kurt growled, doing all they could to keep the tainted Priorius from breaking free. It would have kept on that way if not for Ingrid''s quick thinking, she had pulled up the smallest ledge behind Quena, tripping her with all the weight of the two brothers coming down on top of her. Stone ensnared her, which she would have broken like so many twigs had Dorian not started channeling some kind of hoodoo to keep her at bay.


    She began shaking violently, ¡°let me out! Let me out!¡± Her eyes went wide and a few tendrils of blackness filled the whites of her eyes. Her voice shifted, a shout that wasn''t masculine or feminine, but undeniably terrible. ¡°Let me out, you worms! You fecal excrement! You think this is the last of me?!¡± She laughed, the sound something beyond disturbing.


    ¡°You guys, I can''t, I''m too weak! I need help! I need a link, hurry, both of you!¡± Dorian cried, then grunted in effort. His hissing inhale punctuating his need for aid, Kurt placed a hand on his brother''s shoulder and began to channel is life''s force in to him.


    ¡°Ingrid! Please, hurry!¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay!¡± She cried from somewhere behind them. The moment her hand touched Dorian, something shifted. Kurt couldn''t move, and for the first time since they left the Colosseum, he felt fear.


    Dorian had known the moment his Shade found no purchase in the reservoir''s center. Knew he had to cleanse Quena before anything else, knew there was no other way.


    The moment that Ingrid''s power began to flow into Dorian, he gripped it tightly and sent it back, touching the Shade within her and doing the same to Kurt in turn. They were paralyzed, frozen in place, and would remain that way until Dorian broke the link with them. Now that he had a grip on his source, he felt strong enough to do what needed to be done.


    Quena was snarling and swearing things that made Dorian want to take notes. He pushed the liquid light out of himself, enveloped her, and consumed the remaining taint of the creature known as Bacchus. She went limp just as the last bit of that darkness was consumed, eyes shut, she wouldn''t be waking anytime soon.


    Kurt couldn''t speak, couldn''t move, and even if Dorian was strong, he wasn''t strong enough to completely match wills with his brother. If Kurt realized it, they''d all suffer for it. He willed the Shade that rested within the two to rest next to Quena. His will was giving way quickly, exhausted as he was from the arduous day.


    ¡°I''m sorry you two, but you''ve been duped!¡± Dorian laughed, not the mad laugh, but a laugh that made him feel much better.


    ¡°Kurt, it''s my fault that all this happened. I know the Valley was doomed without us, but you deserve your rest.¡± A surge of Kurt''s will came at Dorian''s words, but Dorian only had to keep this up for a bit longer. ¡°Enjoy those days in the woods, enjoy your hunt, oh Valley Champion, second to the line and first to the house. Take care of mom, tell her I''m sorry I couldn''t make it back. Let her know, I intend to cook alongside dad. I''m sure he''s already cooking for the Gods themselves.¡± He tried to keep a straight face, but he knew his efforts were in vain as the first tears began to fall. Kurt racked against Dorian''s will, but Dorian hung on by a thread. Hung on, because he wasn''t done apologizing yet.


    "Ingrid.¡± His voice was steady, but his hands trembled. He met her gaze, locking her in place, knowing she would never let him go¡ªnot willingly. ¡°Remember my promise?¡± A bitter smile ghosted his lips. ¡°I have to break it, love. But not all of it.¡± His breath hitched. ¡°Thank you. Thank you for all of it. The laughter, the fights, the way you made this brutal world feel less... cruel.¡± He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around hers. ¡°I have nothing left to give but this. A promise." His next words cracked like a vow. "I will find you again, Ingrid. I swear it.¡±


    Through their link, and with the unbridled power Dorian was charged with, he reached deep within the very blueprints that made up each of these two wonderful people. In Kurt, he could feel the shape of the ¡°lens,¡± as Moder had called it, and changed it. What he technically did was open Kurt to his own Shade, and perhaps more. Dorian felt tinges of regret at not being able to see how it changed his brother, but also at not getting to have a rematch against his big brother in the Colosseum.


    He sighed as he moved to Ingrid. Touching the foundations of what formed her, he found the one missing bit that kept her from having all the Primes. Oddly, she had nothing there. Kurt had something there, though he couldn''t access it, but Ingrid had nothing. He laughed out loud and said, ¡°you really did take everything from your brother, didn''t you?¡± Dorian had a theory, and was probably wagering his hope for rebirth on said theory, but Ingrid didn''t have to know that. What was the next life if his Ingrid wasn''t there?


    He broke off the part of himself that gave him access to his Prime in fortitude, broke it off and pushed it into place. Ingrid''s power surged, leaving Dorian breathless. He was hanging on by fingertips, he''d waited too long. Looking back and forth between the two, he smiled wholeheartedly. ¡°I love you both.¡± His voice cracked, and for a moment, he hesitated. His hands tightened around theirs. I could stay. Just a moment longer. Just enough to hold Ingrid, to hear Kurt crack one last joke, to walk home and see his mother¡¯s face.


    But that was never meant to be. He kissed their hands lightly, grinning wide, so wide it hurt. He let them go, turned, and ran for all he was worth. To the engine, to the reservoir.


    Are you ready, little Leo, to vault into the great unknown? The hum of ascent was all he needed.


    Dorian dropped Kurt''s hand as he turned, sprinting for all he was worth. No, you big son of a bitch, no! Kurt was on his feet and running, but the distance was too short. Dorian was moving all his massive bulk, trying to get to a top speed that might have been just as fast as Kurt. Kurt''s only advantage was that he was lighter, he could get up to that speed in half the distance, and they both knew it. It was a race.


    Despite putting every bit of energy he had left in to the movement, Dorian was more athletic than his large body would imply. Kurt thought for a moment that he''d catch up in time, but despite himself he found he was shouting, ¡°stop! Dorian, please!¡±


    Just as Kurt was nearly close enough to lunge for his brother, Dorian leaped, turning as he went. A laugh escaped his grinning mouth. The laugh wasn''t the laugh of a madman, or a mad God for that matter. It was the laugh of an innocent child, running with the reckless freedom of an unburdened youth.


    Dorian hit the wall of the reservoir, and before Kurt''s eyes, Dorian shrank. Kurt lunged, stretching for a hand, an arm, anything, only to slam against an unseen barrier. His whole body rattled with impact, but it wasn¡¯t the pain that took his breath away. It was the sight before him. Dorian, his brother, his responsibility, his ward, the only person in the world who had always been there, was vanishing.


    His fingers clawed against the invisible wall as Dorian unraveled before him, his towering form shrinking, pulling in on itself. A young man. A boy. A chubby child with laughing eyes. Then a baby, too small to fight, too small to know. Then... nothing.


    Kurt¡¯s forehead hit the wall. His breath came out in ragged gasps. His brother was gone, and he couldn¡¯t stop it. He couldn¡¯t save him. His hands curled into fists. He should have been faster. Should have been stronger. Should have¡­


    A violent tremor rippled through the ground, a pulse of energy surging from the reservoir. The black void swallowed the light, then the light surged back, a tide of power ready to consume all in its wake. But Kurt didn¡¯t care. For the first time in his life, he didn¡¯t care about anything at all.


    He heard Ingrid saying something to Quena, but Quena gave no response. A vibration began, and it shook his very bones. The black replaced with light, repeating what had happened in the Colosseum earlier. The vines of darkness wiggled and spread but were ultimately defeated by the light. Shifting to a light green, Kurt turned to see Ingrid holding Quena, slapping her face in an attempt to wake her.


    The hum hastened. Some part of Kurt was aware of the danger behind him, but the rest of him didn''t care. When the light finally erupted, consuming everything, he didn''t have the will to fight anymore. For the first time in his life, Kurt stood still. Not to listen. Not to plan. Not to fight. There was no fight left in him. No purpose. No reason. The world could burn. Let it. His brother was gone, and the only thing left of him was silence.


    Epilogues


    Dorian sat up with a jolt, his upper torso coming out of his Gia cocoon. The light in the chamber had dimmed somewhat. A woman with honey-colored hair stood there, shaking her head. Her name is Clara, Dorian thought.


    She looked at him in a sad way, the somber smile of concern creeping onto her face. Feeling concerned, Dorian looked down, realizing then that he didn¡¯t have any pants. He was going to make a quip when Clara decided to speak.


    ¡°Oh, Dorian. You¡¯re not done yet, not by half.¡± She stepped forward, and just as Dorian was about to protest, she pushed her palm into the center of Dorian¡¯s chest hard enough that he fell back into his pool of Gia. The world, once again, faded.


    Quena woke inside a crater, someone''s arms wrapped tightly around her. The stars above shimmering a brilliant light that she thought she''d never seen before. By all that ever was, they''re real. The stars, they''re real!


    She yipped for joy, jumping up and shouting for all she was worth. The elation of the moment was the most cathartic experience she''d ever had, she was free! No more false sun and stars, no false moons, no mad elder forcing her to bend knee, no, she was her own woman and nothing would ever contain her or hold her in contempt ever again.


    The thought of something taking her freedom from her churned something inside of her. The taint?


    She searched within herself, but didn''t feel it. Now that she was rid of it, its absence was a massive relief, but still, something nagged at her insides. She couldn''t see much, it was night after all, but she could feel a certain moistness in the air. The sounds of nighttime creatures calling in the vast darkness of the unknown filled her with a sense of excitement and dread. What if there is something out there, something that would take this away.


    ¡°Power is tantamount to freedom.¡±


    The thought echoed through her mind, the words she knew weren''t her own, but a part of her recognized the wisdom of them. Life had been cheap in the Valley, the world likely not so different. How many times had she lived? How many times had she died, and for what?


    Looking over to Ingrid''s unconscious form, she recalled when she had waited for more than a day inside that boring chamber and along comes Ingrid to snatch at what Quena had already claimed. All that power...


    Something in her twisted, and before she knew it, Quena had wrapped Ingrid in a tomb of stone. With a viciousness she never knew she had, she made that tomb into a grinder. Knowing full well that there was little more than pulp left of Ingrid, she opened the stone, but not before she encased it in her Gia. She siphoned every bit of that power out of the woman''s remains, gasping in ecstasy as the power merged with her own. She shook in pleasure as the torrent continued, reassured by the knowledge that nobody alive could stand against her. If she was as bad as Bacchus, fine. Murder wasn''t the worst thing she''d ever done, no, you don''t live as many times as she had without doing much worse things than that. Even if it was a betrayal, she was enlivened by the fact that she would remain free.


    Quena? Where am I?


    The voice was... the voice was Ingrid''s. She gasped as her eyes went wide. Shaking her head she thought, no, that''s not possible.


    Kurt didn''t have the first clue as to what the hell was going on. Bright light followed by a landslide, which followed with a whole lot of in and out of consciousness. Then the ground was moving beneath him, his shoulders had a nasty pinch in them and... black.


    Kurt finally woke, but his pounding head nearly took him back under. He bit his lip hard enough to keep himself awake, though he felt himself walking the cliff''s edge, his will bent to the task of staying in the now. Prying his painful lids open revealed a world as vibrant as the deepest parts of the Wilds. The thick moss coating the trees, the vines hanging loosely and the fanning leaves of some shrub consumed his vision.


    He moved to get up, noting how dim it was, but met resistance. Looking down, he found his shoulders bound tight to something that was behind him. He heard the telltale crackles of a fire nearby, though it was barely dark enough to notice the firelight. Squinting at the cording that bound him, he focused his Shade, making it appear from his chest, sharp as a knife.


    The bindings snapped, and despite his weather worn body and the immediate need of sleep, he sprang up, summoning a staff of Shade. His staff would have to do, he figured, so Kurt took his position towards the three woman sitting around the firelight.


    Pointing his staff, he said, ¡°What gives you the right to tie me up?¡±


    The three woman were each wearing a garb of a white flowing material, their faces shaped oddly. That wasn''t to say that they were ugly by any means, just different.


    One woman raised an eyebrow to the other, then the third spoke up. ¡°Quemma narsetta dwemmirrow qwuay?¡±


    Kurt frowned, not sure what the babbling mad woman was talking about. He checked his surroundings and made a dash for it.


    Two strides in and the thought crossed his mind... Why? Why run? Run to what?


    Kurt slowed, coming to a halt. He fell back to his knees, just as he had in the Reservoir chamber. Frozen, he was at a complete loss to himself.


    What... what do I do now?


    He had no answer.


    The first thing he noticed as he groggily came to consciousness was the taste of sand in his mouth. Moaning softly, Dorian spat the loose soil from his mouth as he opened his eyes to a new world.


    It was night and the sky was brilliant. Unending stars lit the sky in a way he''d never seen. His heart soared in wonder at the scope of it all, the brilliant luminescence lighting the night better than any fire could.


    Stop gaping, you look like an idiot, Dorian chided himself.


    Closing his mouth, he moved to crawl out of whatever indentation he''d landed in but managed to trip and fall forward like a newborn babe. His spatial awareness was... off. Pushing off the ground was a slight bit harder than he had remembered, it was only then that he noticed the drag. As he moved, it felt as though he was hauling something on his shoulders or perhaps dragging someone else along.


    Checking himself, his worst fears had come to life. Oh no, please gods no...


    By his best guess, he was sixteen again and puberty had yet to begin the process of turning his body from a gelatinous substance to a solid. He was overweight... again.


    ¡°Is this some kind of a sick fucking joke!¡± He swore to the beautiful night sky. To his surprise, a moment later he heard something reply, though he was sure it wasn''t the Gods. It sounded too carnivorous to be a divine entity. Then again, Bacchus was as close to a God as he''d ever known, so who''s to say this wasn''t another?


    The hairs on the back of his neck stood on edge, he turned to see green glowing eyes watching him from the shadows.


    Gripping his power, he readied himself for combat, only to find nothing there. His primes weren''t working for whatever reason, so he readied his Shade. He reached within himself to summon all he could, but instead of the overflowing river, a trickle managed to make its way through. A single unit of his shade formed, roughly the length of his arm. Dorian held it between himself and the beast and received a yip in response.


    Oh, if only you knew what I did to the last God to laugh at me, Dorian thought as he prepared himself, once again, to fight for his right to live. He felt a sudden swelling of rage, and to his own surprise he found himself wearing his brother''s reckless grin.