How do you know my name?
I tried to speak, but no words came out. I reached for my throat with my lifeless, blackened hand. Suddenly, I was hit with a strange intense heat, and the small underground room began to almost steam from the warmth. My eyes grew foggy, blurring, and the dazzling glow of the fireflies lining the walls began to blink - once, twice, then off. I froze. I was in complete and total darkness once again.
“Mira,” the coaxing sweet voice spoke again, “I know everything, little one. Every wish and whim, every daydream and memory, every splendid secret. Everything is here, neatly sorted in front of me.”
I shook my head, straining.
Please, I begged, Don’t -
“No need to resist, little one,” the voice boomed again, rattling me, “Your memories are sweet, fresh, delicious. Yet you hold in your hands, something dangerous, deadly, why?”
My hand clasped tighter around my new weapon, sweat straining my grip.
“I see a helplessness here, a dangerous twinkling of insecurities, alike many in their youth. All of these unknowns, a fresh new world hungers for you, causing your steps to become unsteady. But you must not give in. To not know is not a weakness. It is opportunity. But yet you let little words get to you, eating away. So freely. Feasting. Feasting. And you become reckless. A cornered animal. But do you need more teeth? You have so much power, even without such a tool, Mira.”
Right, I nodded, Blood Magic. I know -
“But you don’t, little one. Because it is not of Blood Magic I speak, no. Do you know why you were given that precious gift? The ring on your blackened finger? The ring which protected you from such corruption? It is a rare thing, my bud before bloom.”
I strained, trying to remember the bogfae’s exact words when she gifted it to me.
“It’s because of your unique blend of both kindness and curiosity, Mira. A strange thing in this land where most are set in ways of the old. Vasati was able to see it, as soon as you plunged beneath her waters. You are to be protected, for you hold this rare gift. A gift that others will try to use, to manipulate, to mold to their liking. It is a precious thing. But beneath that, there is another flame that continues to grow, and it is something that most concerns me.”
My mind began to flash with images, scenes of which I had not seen before, each with such unsettling clarity. My head began to spin.
Before me, clearer than the most vivid dream, I saw a gathering of dirty and tired soldiers, eyes young and wild, gathered around a crumbled body. Above, beating wings and fire streamed across the sky. I heard screams of both pain and anger, clashes of steel, only to be interrupted by invisible commanding shouts in the distance. A young blood mage was crouching over the lifeless body, trying their best to put the drop of blood from their finger into the mouth of their comrade, desperate and shaking. Those around them are pleading, crying, shaking the body, but nothing happened. There wasn’t enough magic to bring them back. My ears began to ring.
Stop it, please, I begged.
“But you need to see this little one, for you must understand, magic is finite. And with each swipe of your blade, a life may be lost. And with it, so goes the magic. Magic that could heal, create - gone in a single blow. Will you take it in your lungs, all for yourself?”
Suddenly, I was in a large, warmly-lit hall, wooden tall arched ceilings around me, filled with flowing white light from ceiling high windows. In front of me there are rows and rows of injured people, each trying to get the attention of frantic white-robed healers, wearing the gleaming silver Herculean seal.
“Never let your insecurities give way to anger. Anger distorts truth. You have nothing to prove, little one.”
But I do - you don’t understand, I thought. I am weak, unable to even defend myself in the simplest of situations. I’m sick of having to rely on those around me to protect myself. It’s so, completely, frustrating. I -
“I know, little one… I can see everything,” spoke the anasilan.
Then there was silence.
The room was dark again, then suddenly, the wall began to flicker once again, illuminating the small room. The anasilian remained where it was perched before, pink eyes staring, unblinking at me.
“Ask yourself, are you truly relying on them, little one? Do you give nothing in return? You are more than you think… And you have more to bring to this world than death.”
Suddenly, the odd creature began to move. Each long gray limb seemed to crack as it freed itself from the wall. I took a small step back, uneasy. I turned towards Ciro, only to find him sitting in the corner of the room, holding his knees tight to his chest. His eyes were haunting, wide and frozen, staring, unblinking, at the wall in front of him.
“Please, let me see the weapon,” spoke the creature, mouth unmoving.
Long, sharp fingers reached towards me, palm upwards. The odd, featureless face was now only a breath away from mine, eyes still staring. I gave a quick nod, and placed the blade gently in the creature’s outstretched hand. I watched as the boney fingers carefully creaked close, and slowly moved backwards to the center of the small room. They then placed the weapon gingerly on the dirt floor. I waited, unsure, holding my blackened hand to my chest.
“Mira Ramsay, do you pledge to use this weapon only when necessary - to bring no more death than is required of the realm and of duty? Do you pledge to cherish magic in all of its forms and heed no excess without rightful reason?”
I nodded, considering the ancient being’s words.
“I do,” I whispered, finally able to speak.
“Then it is done.”
I watched as the creature then took two of its long limbs and lifted the blade upwards, pointing the sharp tips inward. Suddenly, the ancient anasilan then plunged the falchion directly into its chest in one deliberate blow. I stifled a scream and lunged forward, reaching out to stop it. I was only stopped by Ciro’s outstretched arm. He was now standing beside me, staring intensely at the twitching creature. I looked at him, pleading, but he only shook his head.
I watched in horror as the ancient creature silently slumped forward, crumbling to its side and falling to the dirt floor with a haunting thump, black blood slowly pooling around it. There was a final twitch of one of its long, translucent wings, followed by a silent stillness. It was dead.
Suddenly, a gust of warm wind flew against me, almost pushing me to the floor - a final burst of magic held within the ancient creature, now free to flow throughout the underground city.
“They’re… dead… I - Why would it do that? I didn’t -” I slumped to the dirt floor, defeated.
Ciro put his hand on my shaking shoulder.
“I know - Please, take your weapon. Quickly,” he urged.
I hesitated, still unsteady, then stood, taking a few uneasy steps forward. The creature still had its slim fingers delicately wrapped around the hilt. I looked up at Ciro, horrified.
“Come now, take it out.”
I shook my head, shooting back a look at him.
Did he not just see what happened?
I then painstakingly unwrapped each stiff leather-smooth gray finger from the weapon. I wrapped my hand around the hilt then pulled, slowly, removing the blade from its chest which resulted in a sickening gurgling noise. The black blood slowly dripped from the obsidian blade, creating haunting splashes on the dirt floor. I watched, frozen, as the body slumped further forward onto its stomach, now free from the resistance of the blade holding it up. It revealed the small line of black on the pale gray back, blood slowly pooling around it, still silently spreading to the shimmering thin wings.
“Ciro - I don’t know why it did that. I’m sorry. I’m so-”
But Ciro only put a finger to his lips.
“Just watch,” he whispered, gesturing to the still creature on the ground.
Suddenly, from the exit wound, I began to notice movement. I blinked, thinking it may yet be a tick of the light, but alas, there it was again. The black line began to grow, pulsing, as if something were beneath it. I shook my head.
“What’s happening?”
With another twitch, something began to emerge from the wound, shiny and twitching. It was then that the glowing insects on the walls began to slowly start to move, circling around each other in a mesmerizing hum. The small delicate creature’s many limbs began to stretch upwards as it unfolded long transparent wings, shaking off the black blood with a tiny shiver.
“It’s… it’s another anasilan…” I breathed.
Ciro nodded. “And so the cycle continues.”
We both watched in silence as the small creature slowly began to creep once again to its spot on the dirt wall. It stretched again, wet wings still clumped together like crinkled lace. Behind us, there was another familiar rush of warm wind, pushing us both forward. The tiny anasilan was absorbing all the magic once again.
I looked at Ciro, awestruck.
“I know - the same happened to me,” he coughed. “This was the great-great-great… well you get the idea… grandparent of this one that magicked my halberd all those years ago.”
I watched the tiny, shining anasilan twitch on the wall.
“Before, why were you in the corner?” I asked.
Ciro was quiet for a moment, and the buzzing of the insects on the wall seemed to grow louder.
“I… The anasilan was not very happy with me. It showed me things… things that I am not proud of,” said Ciro softly.
I only nodded, not wanting to make Ciro any more uncomfortable.
“Come now, Milea is probably waiting for us.”
208Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZSLLYHeEt5
+++
208Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd7MvW6aIiD
I was sitting upright on the small, makeshift cot that Milea had set up for us in her cozy room, holding the falchion in my lap. In the short walk back to the room, the blade seemed to absorb the black blood, leaving nothing but the shining metal behind. I watched it glow in the dim firelight, Milea refusing to put out the flames despite Ciro’s pleas.
Now that everything seemed so settled, so safe in this strange underground world, I found myself thinking of Lumo. Would he be looking for me? I doubted that Herculea would let him free of her splendid tower. But no, Lumo was clever. I’m sure he would have found some way to escape by now. It was then that a frightening thought hit me.
“Ciro - Do you think Lumo can find us here?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Well no, definitely not,” said Ciro with a sad laugh, scratching his white stubble.
I looked up at Milea who was reading some sort of ancient text in her bed clothes, heavy blanket to her chin, but she only shook her head.
“This place is designed to not be found. A rare safe haven from the frontlines.”
My mind raced.
“Do you think… Do you think we should have stayed at your house? Or maybe we should have gone north, to his cabin? Or -”
“Mira, shush. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s a new day. We can talk about it tomorrow,” sighed Ciro, leaning back against the wall.
I frowned, looking again at the weapon on my lap. The anasilan’s words echoed again in my head.
What was it that I had to offer - especially to someone like Lumo?
ns 15.158.61.8da2
