Ringing Down into the Core of Your Soul

(9:0:4)

“It is a universal fact,” Hafest said mildly, his voice a perfect mimicry of calm, “that people are undeniably stupid.”

Krack!

Winds blocked the hit, the metal of their swords clashing and grinding as Hafest threw his weight forward, forcing him back.

“That people could think they will be able to outrun their own doom— well, it’s preposterous!”

Disengaging, Winds forced the other’s sword to slip past him as he sidestepped, focused on not displaying too much skill. Hafest had commanded him, after all, no matter how forceful his strikes were.

“Firemount is likely the safest of places they will ever find, and they think—” A vicious swipe carved over his head, switching directions in a humming pattern of slices that forced him to retreat backwards— “they think they will be safer in Petrah, or even Arathnea. Among people who are already halfway to Dark-kind. Laughable.”

A stab nearly sliced open the sleeve of his tunic. “Laughable that anyone would listen to that half-possessed excuse of a councillor—”

“They are not many.” His master’s strikes held an edge of viciousness to them, force that indicated no intention to pull back. Blade flicking up, he executed a rough parry that jarred up through his wrists, not taking any opening, not daring to go on the offensive.

“They are enough—” Hafest hinged on the momentum to cut up and under, and he threw himself back, careful of his arms— “that others are questioning whether there is a point to their madness. And that is too many.”

Once again, their blades clashed as he threw his own up just in time, faltering at the force applied as any younger, less experienced fighter would. A swordsman fighting for his life. A proxy for the man Hafest wished he was grinding his sword into, edge scraping edge.

“What do you think, Winds? Would we have a greater chance of escaping our doom if we abandoned Firemount?” The man’s lip curled in a sneer, shoving him back again, stumbling.

He whipped his sword overhead, lashing out with a wild slash that gave him only a modicum of room, Hafest hopping nimbly back and pushing forward again in an instant. Every opening taunted him, the ghosts of movements he could make whispering, itching deep within his soul. He ignored them, backing away, his parries lacking power, his feet threatening to stumble over themselves.

It was a show. A good one that grated against every part of him.

He was made to defend his master with every scrap of skill collected from the greatest of masters in every form of combat possible. He’d been made to be able to defeat the greatest of combatants, even the man who owned him. It was his purpose.

And yet.

“No.” He twisted aside, backing away much as Hafest himself had done a few days ago. “The forces of Darkness would still come. There is nothing to suggest they would be content with Firemount alone.”

“Very true.” A shadow passed over his master’s face as Winds continued to evade rather than engage, his blade humming like a wasp, seeking to close the gap. “Though, I believe you’re too quick to think it is Darkness.”

He stepped back again. And perhaps he didn’t add enough haste into the stumble, because the other’s eyes flashed, his expression twisting. “Halt your cowardly retreat and be still.”

Obediently, Winds came to a stop, only for Hafest to step forward, giving one final swing.

And Winds ducked.

His master stilled, his aura abruptly boiling beneath the already-swirling surface with something dark and deadly, echoed in his unblinking stare. A sight that froze something inside of him, the sudden awareness of why Hafest had ordered him to halt connecting far too late.

...He had made a fatal error.

Immediately, he straightened, bowing his head. “I apologise, my mas—”

The strike whistled towards him, a hit he could have avoided again.

Instead, with a heavy thud of hilt meeting flesh-padded metal, the backhand sent him to the floor, a flash sparking across his skin. He landed heavily, the padded floor not enough to prevent the impact jarring up his arm.

It was interesting that his hand should automatically hold to the spot struck, without his deliberate input. Keeping his head down, he didn’t meet Hafest’s burning gaze, feeling the taut hiss of his presence looming above him.

He knew the signs. It was his mistake that he had missed them and avoided the punishment his master deemed he deserved. He stayed silent, unmoving.

“When I command you, you obey,” his master said at last, a calm in his voice that sent a shiver through Winds’ core. “I hope you aren’t forgetting that.”

He dipped his head, a faint, phantom whirl tugging at his senses. “No, my master. It won’t happen again.”

It was what he’d been created for, after all.

(9:0:1)

Why did it feel like everyone was always muttering about something to do with Loh and Darkness and doom whenever she so much as walked down the street?

Brei closed her eyes and puffed a stray strand of hair from her face, the basket of half a dozen eggs swinging at her side. Sunlight warmed the back of her head, despite clouds that had been threatening for days gathering at the edges of the horizon. Half the people she saw standing at street corners muttering among themselves probably thought it was another sign of the end.

Ugh, can’t we just have some peace? A change of subject? Even Dad wouldn’t stop talking about it. Their weekly chat that morning had been just another repeat of every conversation she’d ever had with any man, lately, and half the women, too.

“Oh, do you think we’ll all die in the next few weeks?” Well you might if your heart gives out from the stress. With a roll of her eyes, she climbed up the narrow set of stairs on her way back home, creepers studded with little star flowers brushing her shoulder. And now thanks to Seih... well, it wasn't all his fault. People had already been talking about abandoning Firemount, like that little group at the market a few weeks back.

Who said the world was ending, anyway? The Light Scale might have given out its word on it all, but surely there was still a chance. After all, they’d won the last time Darkness tried to cover everything. Why would the Light throw up its hands and abandon them all now?

We haven’t even done anything—

“Brei of Copax?”

The voice brought her to a jarring halt at the top of the stairs where they exited into the crowded street of her home lane.

She narrowed her eyes at the older woman who’d spoken. A harsh face with a strong nose—not particularly pretty. She looked like some sort of tutor, though her clothes seemed more suited to physical labour—a nondescript mid-thigh tunic and leggings that were utterly bland. Apart from the leggings, and without the addition of his toga, it was the sort of thing Seih tended to favour. In other words, flat boring. “Can I help you?”

“Perhaps you can. I hear you’re a talented student in construct works.”

“Am I?” She threw a glance around the mostly-empty street, her fingers tightening around the handle of her basket. “And how, exactly, did you find that out?”

“A friend of yours at your tutorship.” The woman never wavered. “I’m part of a group who you might be—”

“No.” She took a step away, already shaking her head and turning away. “A group? Spare me your end of the world cult, I’m not interested.”

“You assume a lot from a few words.”

“Yes well, when someone approaches you in an empty street and asks you to join their little circle, I’m sure you’ll jump at the chance, too.” She didn’t quite turn her back on her, just in case. At least they hadn’t sent a man, whoever they were, but there was no telling what was going on with something this out of the still depths. “Now this has been very strange, and very unexpected, and I would prefer it if you didn’t harass me. May the Light illumine you.”

The woman didn’t follow her. Thankfully. The guard didn’t tend to patrol here often, and would take too long to arrive if she had to summon them.

She let herself into her little abode, closing and locking the door behind her, and breathed out a sigh. Well that had been—

A trundling rumble and a solid click nearly made her jump before she connected the sounds to the little round ball bumping into the corner leading to the rest of her home, eyes blinking at her upside-down.

She let out a breathy half-laugh, relaxing again. “What are you doing hitting walls, Rounds? Do I need to tune you up again?”

It chirped, tentatively pushing itself away from the wall and punting over to bump into her feet.

She picked it up, smiling into the beady little eyes formed from Light stones. “Well, at least you don’t have a clue.”

Sometimes she wished she could be as ignorant as a little construct, these days.... But she could never help being reminded of what was going on, could she? Things won’t ever go back to normal, will they?

She sighed, tucking Rounds under her arm, and put the eggs away.