I stared at the fire. The flames flickered, sprinkling tiny dots of ash near my feet. Perhaps if I didn’t move - if I didn’t say anything, I would simply disappear from this incredibly awkward situation.
I was afraid to look at Ciro. Would he be angry? Upset? He was a complete stranger to me - and I him. The quiet was deeply unsettling.
“I… I should leave. I - I didn’t know he was going to do this,” I finally sputtered. “He had no right to just leave me here. You don’t even know me -”
I began to try and open the thick wooden door - but it was far heavier than it looked.
“Stop… It’s fine. It’s fine,” he sighed.
I turned to see him put his hands through his hair, worried expression on his face deepening the lines across his forehead.
“So you were chosen to be one of Solia’s finest?” he coughed, rummaging around the bottles for any that weren’t completely empty. “Lucky us.”
“Lucky us,” I echoed.
“I’d offer you a drink but It looks like I’m fresh out,” he paused, looking up, “Wait - how old are you?”
“I… I just turned seventeen.”
“So you just found out then? Passed your test?” he gave a sad little chuckle, “So what did you end up saving? A dog hit by a cart? A drowning child? A-”
“An imp. He - she was stabbed by a stick? If I remember correctly.”
He chuckled, raising his eyebrows. “That’s a new one.”
“What about you?”
“I… I was riding my horse… and we hit a bend too hard, hit a low branch - and it broke its neck… dying immediately. Until, you know.”
He gestured with his hand before taking a final sip from the bottle, then throwing it to join the rest.
“Right… you brought it back to life,” I signed, then sat on the only chair, a small stool, next to the fireplace. “Have you been hiding here since then?”
He laughed, “Gods no… But that’s a story for when I have a bit more drink in my system. Are you hungry? My courier should be here in about…” he then walked over to the side of the door. He pulled on a chain hanging from the rocky wall, and a brass length of tubes jut out of the wall in small sections appeared from the ceiling. He put his eye on the section of tube - an eyepiece or sorts, and began to spin in circles, “In about an hour I’d say. I’ll see if he can also get an extra bedroll on his next trip if he doesn’t already have one on him. He’s usually pretty stocked.”
I watched him push the device back in the ceiling, then begin pacing in front of the fire, trying to warm his hands. The bright orange flames cast dark shadows on his weathered face. He kept looking at me, start to say something, then look back at the fire. This curious ceremony continued for a bit before he finally spoke.
“Have you… have you done it yet? Have you brought something back to life? I mean, not in a dream,” he asked. It was odd, seeing such a serious looking man so nervous.
“I did.. It was.. It was-” I stuttered, trying to find the right words.
“Exhilarating, right? To lift someone up - to see through their magic… Can I ask… What happened?”
He was excited now, pacing about the room, eyes wild.
I thought a moment, then told him about getting attacked by the serpent - about Gaelenod’s fall and dropping the blood into his mouth… About becoming him and finding the sound of the magic song before gasping back to life.
Ciro smiled, arms crossed.
“Now that’s a far more exciting tale than mine,” he chuckled, “Our cat had fallen into the well - quite sad really. But I was able to bring her back - tip top shape. Now… how about…” his expression darkened, “The other side.”
“Have I taken someone’s magic? No. Never,” I shook my head.
“Hm… I see. So you’re running a bit low now. Me too,” he looked down, a sad smile on his face before he sat back down on the edge of his bed. “Me too…”
I wanted to ask him if he had ever taken anyone’s magic, but I wasn’t sure if that would offend him, and didn’t want to take any chances. I took off Lumo’s overcoat as well as my own as the fire’s warmth started to turn uncomfortable. I watched Ciro under his heavy furs still shivering, although it looked as though he had not ventured outside for quite some time. As I looked at him, I noticed something odd about his face - particularly his eyes. His light blue eyes held a certain glassy, almost glazed look to them, reaching even into the pupils. He seemed to notice me staring, and looked away.
“It’s… it’s a side effect. When you take another’s magic - your eyes, they start to fade. It’s been years since I’ve done it… but it never goes away. Just a… just a sad reminder,” he shook his head. “There are other ways though - other ways to restore your magic. But… none of them are easy… at least if you want it to last.”
Ciro stood with a stretch and I half expected the conversation to be over. After these past couple of days trying to get answers from the always vague Lumo, I had grown grateful for any sort of half-answers I received. However, Ciro seemed to be quite eager to have someone to talk to. He didn’t seem the type to get many visitors in his hidden little retreat.
“There’s a certain ritual where you have to bathe in the mud of the Boglands for a week - no thank you! Even if you survive, can you imagine the smell?” he chuckled, tapping his chin, “ Then there’s the destruction of ancient artifacts - sure, that’ll fill up your magic but good luck with the curse you’ll have the rest of your waking life. That’s what happened to the queen at Castle Locus I heard. Makes sense. That place creeps. Me. Out!” Ciro gave a dramatic shiver, “Not enough coin in the world for me to enter that place.”
He was pacing again in the small room, arms gesturing left and right. He was unexpectedly animated for someone with such a serious face.
“I read once in a book - a long time ago. I know that doesn’t mean much but really - I mean it.Ages ago. I could have sworn that I read that you could refill your magic by group dance. Can you imagine?” he let out a holler of a laugh and leaned on the table for support. “Then of course, there’s the little things you can do to get by - like taking it from the trees and dirt. But that’s nothing. Nothing compared to…” his face grew serious once more, “Compared to taking it from something… living.”
I studied his face. There was a strange, pressing, sadness there - but I can only assume, as he quickly swatted the thoughts off with a wave of his calloused hand and gave a warm smile.
“Sorry for talking your ear off. I don’t get many visitors,” he sighed.
“No, please. I want to… I need to know all this. In all of the books, in all of the reading I’ve ever done - they never explain anything about the specifics of Blood Magic, other than how awful it is… And… if all they say is true, why wouldn’t I just surrender myself to the Seven Judges? Blood Mages are the villains in the realm, hand-in-hand with the twisted Void Magic wielders -ghastly mages who turned away from their Guide’s call,” I said, placing my head in my hands.
He gave another sad smile, then looked at his hands, before sitting on his bed once again.
“Mira - I know we may have just met, but those judges can kindly sod off,” he gave a sad chuckle. “I may have done things I’m not proud of, but that’s none of the Guide’s business, let alone the Seven… Let me ask you this - do you really think you deserve death? For giving your own magic to bring someone back? Solia chose you to give her magic to, whether the Guides like it or not. But death?”
“Well… Not particularly. But… that’s the way it’s always been. All of Solia’s disciples, all those gifted with Blood Magic are to be brought before the Seven Judges - whether you brought someone or something back to life or not- they are to be sentenced to death.”
“By what reasoning?”
“They are an affront to Solia herself -”
“Wrong. They are an affront to the Four Guides.Think about it Mira. Why would she give you these gifts, only to sentence you to death?” Ciro said, shaking his head.
“I… But every book… Every book I’ve ever read-”
I paused, watching Ciro give a sad shake of his head.
“You’re a smart girl… Think. Really think about it.”
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There was a sudden knock on the door, causing us both to jump.
“Ah! That must be Caville, my courier. Any requests?” Ciro said, wringing his hands together.
“I - food I suppose…” I scanned the small room, “And maybe a b-”
“Bedroll, right, got it!”
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Caville was a tall, slender fellow with stringy red hair underneath a dark gray hood. His brown eyes were wide, darkly ringed and paranoid on his thin face. He was accompanied by a griffin, to my surprise. The thin and mangy thing was far less grand than what I remembered of the regal ink drawings of Father’s books. The dull brown creature looked quite tired under the tower of packs and canvas bags strapped to its skinny back as it preened its feathers with a short black beak.
Couriers were common in the realm, but they usually came by horseback or by way of enormous roc bird if the package was important or timely. This man looked far less polished than what I was used to at the manor, but there was something behind his quiet demeanor that was disarming.
“Hello… Hello my friend,” Caville spoke with a bow, his voice soft and polite, “I brought your order… It took a bit longer to get the wine you wanted, but I was able to find it south of Xomouth. The barmaiden also wanted to… wanted to give you this.”
Caville turned, unwrapping one of the tied packages off of the griffin’s back, gently unraveling the cloth to reveal a silver necklace.
“Ah sweet Gwen,” Ciro laughed, taking the necklace and swiftly putting it in his pocket, “I have a letter for her here. Also - we’ll take the lot of food you have with ya. And that bedroll there.”
A watched from behind Ciro’s shoulder as they exchanged a handful of coins and the folded letter. By the time Ciro ducked back into the room, he was carrying several large bundles of rope-wrapped cloth. I could hear the chiming of glass bottles clinking together in one of them as he set it on the small wooden table.
“I like that guy - never asks any questions,” he chuckled as he sat on his bed with a grunt. I then watched as he pulled the silver necklace out from his furred pocket.
In the firelight, it looked like an ordinary locket, but there was something peculiar in the air when it shined. There was a vibration, a peculiar wave in the light when I looked at it. An enchantment.
“What is that?” I asked, leaning forward to get a better look.
“Well - my old friend Gwen and I have an arrangement. I buy her overpriced stale wine, and she gets me magicked objects… Nothing ancient or powerful, but just enough to get me by.”
“To get you by?”
He laughed to himself and scratched his chin.
“I am… I am a bit older than I look. And when you get older, magic tends to fade on its own. And one of the perks of this curse we both got is that uh… we get to choose when we… you know.”
My eyes narrowed.
“We get to choose when we die?”
“Yeah, I mean. As long as we get a magic fix - like this necklace here, we can stay put for as long as we want. Just gotta put the work in. Here, watch-”
Ciro then raised the necklace in front of him, and put his hand in the air next to it. He then gave a slight swirl of his fingers and the necklace began to slightly vibrate before turning into a fine mist. Ciro then took a deep inhaling breath, and the mist swirled into his mouth.
He then made a dramatic motion of wiping his hands off and beamed back at me.
“And that’s it! I should be good for another couple of months… That is, if the necklace wasn’t cursed. One time she gave me a ring that sprouted worms between my toes. Awful.”
I shivered at the thought.
“So, If I may ask, how old are you?”
He laughed as he took off the top layer of furs, newly warmed by the magic.
“Ah, a lady never tells… but, older… probably much older than you think.”
My mind was still a bit scrambled from the earlier conversation, prior to the courier visit’s interruption. But why would Solia give her gift, only to have the child put to death?
“...I was always told, or read at least, that when she gave her test and passed, you would be spared from judgment,” I half muttered as my thoughts seemed to find their way out of my mouth.
Ciro looked up, still rummaging through his purchases.
“If I had not saved the imp in my dream - Solia would see me as faithful, and spare me from judgements, and -”
“Ha!” Ciro suddenly laughed, “What utter nonsense. She gave you the gift only for you not to use it? She deemed you worthy enough to wield her powers only to trick you into failure? Tell me - who does that benefit?”
“I-... I don’t know what you mean.”
“How well do you know your Lucerna history?”
I sighed. Not this again.
“The Great Chaos - what do you know about it?” he asked.
“Well… it was the First Era of there realm, rife with war-”
“War between whom?”
I paused. The Realm? I wasn’t quite sure how to answer.
“War between Solia’s disciples. And who - who came out on top?” he asked. He was standing again, eyes wild as he paced about the small room.
“The Four…”
“The Four Guides. Who made a truce together as the four ruling army forces in the realm. Four ageless magic wielders.”
“Are you implying that the Four Guides… The Four Guides are all Blood Mages?”
My head was spinning.
Ciro raised his eyebrows. “I am not implying, Mira. Who would be their greatest threat? Who?”
“Another Blood Magic wielder,” I whispered. A sickness started to brew in my stomach as the little room started to spin around me.
The ceremony.
The white feathers.
The little girl.
They were absorbing their magic.
“... Black crane feathers to fight in their war,” I whispered as the heavy burden of tears in my throat met my eyes, and I let them fall with a slow blink.
“And white feathers as magic sacrifice to the Guide… Hungry?” Ciro said, turning to me with a sad smile and wrapped bundle in hand.
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Dinner was surprisingly filling, with fire-warmed dinner rolls and roasted mushroom spiced stew, I perhaps ate more than I should have after the long day of travel. I was now snug tight in Ciro’s small bed as he insisted on sleeping in the new bedroll on the floor. I wasn’t sure how much I could sleep though, all things considered.
The Four Guides are Blood Mages.
Everytime I tried to think of something else, the words hit me again and I would spiral back into the same uneasy anxiety. The broken shards of everything I’ve ever known, everything I had ever been told or read, had been shattered; and here I was, putting every sharp piece back together. Limenta was almost gone - gone forever, turned to mist to be inhaled as magicked fuel to Herculea. My tears may have run dry, but now I was left in the bitter lost grasping of a powerful unknown pain. The fates really were cruel.
I turned in the thick covers, opening my eyes only a crack to watch Ciro in his nightly routine.
Lumo was right, he was eccentric.
I woke several times in the middle of the night to see him peering out of his makeshift telescope, watching the perimeter for any sort of potential threats. But I couldn’t blame him.
To live a life where you could not freely sleep without the constant worry of being found. To live in secret, in hiding, for as long as you were willing. How long had Ciro been here, alone in his worry?
No, this is not the life I wanted.
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