The Whims of Strength

0

Kirill opened his eyes. In his morning routine, he tried his best to avoid laying in bed for too long after waking up. A modest winter sunrise greeted him as he opened the curtains.

He took a sip of water from a glass placed on his nightstand. This was followed by sixty minutes of exercise and stretches, which he performed alone in his bedchamber. Maintenance of an attractive figure was important in commanding respect. He thought he heard a gentle medley of songs from the castle sparrows. However, it was sung so softly he couldn’t be sure.

He finished his exercises and wiped his sweat-covered body with a cloth. There was a bookshelf placed beside the desk in his bedroom. It held books painstakingly imported from foreign lands at his request. With a magnifying glass, he carefully opened a book to the bookmark already placed within and perused its contents.

1“Great unrest has arisen among the people, sir.”

An aged man informed the new emperor of the state of public affairs.

Later the same day, the new emperor had been called to a gathering. Normally, he would have refused. However, he quickly realized a meeting for one subject could be easily twisted into a meeting for another.

A meeting room connected the emperor’s quarters with the rest of the castle. Light from a flicking fireplace danced along the empty walls. His three highest advisors stood across from him. Among four hundred thousand subjects, only these three were permitted to address him as “sir”.

Friedrich the long-living stood to the left, hunched over. Wisps of white hair adorned the top of his nearly-bald head. No less than two hundred years of service to the crown had rendered his body an immobile husk. A set of clergyman’s robes, dotted with holes and patchwork fabric, hung off of his bony frame.

To the right was a much younger woman donning a pointed hat and loose-sleeved suit jacket over her sorcerer’s uniform. Her focused gaze and smooth skin came in sharp contrast to Friedrich’s wrinkly, half-dead complexion. She was the undisputed head of the Academy, Lady Emily of the Cold Lightning. She welded powerful spells at her fingertips, and given a domain of her own, would surely be a thorn in the side of Sveshen rule.

A beast of a man no less than two and a half meters in height towered above the other two in the center. Covered head to toe in blood-soaked bandages, one could discern his twisted expression from his ink-black eyeballs. Formerly the handsome John the Lion, head of the armed forces, was now only known as John the Unsightly. A curse left every inch of his flesh raw and dripping blood. In the absence of an heir, he was second in rank to only the emperor himself.

“I don’t care. General, prepare for our departure.” The emperor looked to John.

“...Understood, sir,” the general muttered between labored, shallow breaths. “What is…our destination…”

“The Grey Harbor.”

Friedrich and Lady Emily shook their heads in surprise.

“Sir, it’s a hive of enemies. Nothing could keep you safe from the misfortunes that may befall you there,” Emily worriedly said. It was the same recklessness that drove John to bring the curse upon himself. The general slowly bobbed his head up and down in agreement.

Kirill reached his hand outwards. A streak of black mist, oozing with malice, shot from his palm in an arc to close around Emily’s neck. Inches before it came in contact with her skin a bright blue flash crackled and popped, shattering the arc of black into hundreds of pieces. The metallic scent of electricity filled the room.

“Sir, while the Academy has sworn its allegiance to you, our duties extend beyond-” Emily stammered as she scrambled to explain herself.

The newly crowned emperor smiled and looked her in the eye. “Worry not, Emily. I was curious whether or not you’d stop me. That is all.” He looked back at the general. “We leave at midnight. Gather your things. And Friedrich, your presence will not be needed. Get some rest.”

Friedrich opened his mouth to say something but closed it, bowed, and shuffled out the door without another word.

“A rebellion? What a farce. I’ll feed rebels to my dogs and hang their bones along the castle walls.” the emperor declared.

“Yes…it has been far too long.” The general voiced his agreement.

“There’s a reason your father didn’t send an overwhelming force to quash the opposition,” the lady objected. She had acted as a close advisor to Pyotr and was grateful that he heeded her advice. “Please excuse my rudeness. The curse that binds Sir John will prove fatal to all that fall under it.”

“My father was weak and cowardly. Not once did he step on the battlefield to slay his foes, but laid comfortably in safety waiting for good news. But go on. I’ve no interest in wasting any more of our bandages.” He looked at the two in amusement.

“A sorcerer at the Grey Harbor…can curse a thousand soldiers at once. Before they realize it…their skin becomes soft…like beach sand. Soon their muscles…their eyes…are nothing more than a bloody skeleton. I had killed him…I thought…my axe swung through his neck. But yet my curse remains.” The general whispered, gasping for air. He bent down and caught his breath.

“His High Excellency left the front at a stalemate because that sorcerer was cornered. He could repel any invasion alone. Yet, at the same time, he was but one man. As the general has told us, it is likely that his self is split among many, so assassination would be difficult.” The lady explained. She had been present to witness the curse firsthand. A large, black circle of crows had appeared in the sky high above the defended city, before a red rain descended within the circle. All who were caught in it suffered a fate similar to the one described by the general.

Kirill looked at each of them. On the surface, the lady looked confident, with her chest out and her posture straight, and a slight smile on her face. Yet a slight wrinkles on the edge of her eyes suggested otherwise. As always, the general looked like a dead man walking, but his muscular frame was still clear beneath the layer of blood-stained bandages. Kirill smiled and reminded them, “We leave at midnight. The rebellion ends two days from now.”

2

The three came upon the port city of Grey Harbor. Air whizzed past their ears in tandem with the powerful boom that followed the flap of each horse’s wings. Kirill surveyed the town below through a thin wooden looking-glass.

Corpses in all stages of decay laid in heaps on street corners. Well above the city, swarms of flies painted a grainy shade over the scenery. Atop the castle ramparts, ant-like human figures bearing the red flag of the eastern rebels patrolled from tower to tower.

“Sir, what do you see?” The general asked. He and the lady looked at him in curiosity.

“Nothing of value remains. Grey Harbor has become a city of rats. They crawled along the city walls and devoured the citizens. I’ll crush it to dust and build a new one.”

“Scum!” The general hissed and spat. His horse folded its wings to prepare a charge.

Kirill shook his head. “Cease! You will bear witness to this day. Nothing more.” He raised his hand, his open palm facing the sky. “Mage woman, take care that no stray arrows halt our approach.”

Sure enough, a wall of barbed-tip arrows and scatter-cannon fire peppered the tightly woven mesh of tree branches and twigs extending from the lady’s fingers. An intricate lattice of dark red wood was unmoved. Three rows of archers and a row of cannoneers stood to defend at the point on the wall nearest the three.

The young emperor spared no time in laying waste to the rotten city. His massive dogs, their warped spines forming rows of bumps beneath the fur, sprung out of the wall’s interior. They rampaged through the streets, knocking over buildings and gnashing their teeth at the piles of bodies. Several crushed the stone foundations of the walls between their jaws, sending a dust cloud billowing into the air as they collapsed. Panicked soldiers fled from their stations, only to fall to their deaths, slamming the ground. The dogs, acting as a single pack, swallowed up miles of land, leaving only crushed brick and scattered wooden foundations in their place.

Lady Emily paid no attention to the destruction of the city. Her eyes remained on the circle of crows high above their heads. Every bird drifted along the circle at an unnaturally slow pace. To her, they felt like puppets pulled along by invisible strings. A torrent of red rain descended upon them, stopped only by a barrier of deep blue glass suspended in the air by Emily’s right hand.

They were safe. Yet the emperor’s dogs, left exposed to the harsh crimson barrage, howled and whined in pain while their fur and skin gave way to their exposed white skeletons. As the dust cleared, little remained of the dead city. Only piles of stone lay where the walls had stood. A thick red smear obscured the ruined interior.

A trickle of blood snaked from the corner of the young emperor’s mouth. The lady witnessed a brief glimpse of his blood-stained handkerchief as he hid it beneath within his breast pocket.

3

“You’re wanted for treason, are you?” the man asked with a chuckle. He was the captain’s father. His long hair was tied in a bun that sat above his head. Beneath shining brown eyes and crooked nose, his face had the same round, easygoing look as his daughter.

“How can you laugh? We could all pay for this!” Her mother angrily said. She had the captain’s sharp eyes, and her expression was the same as the captain’s on-duty facade.

“And turn away my daughter? I’d let the village burn first.” He sunk his wooden spoon into his bowl of beef stew. “I know you’ve been looking forward to this. Saving expensive ingredients for her return, and throwing them out when they went bad, and buying more. Ha ha ha!”

His wife went silent. She nibbled on a slice of bread while glaring at her husband.

The three of them sat across from the captain’s parents. Before them, the captain’s mother had prepared no less than a dozen family-sized plates of food. A steaming pot of beef stew, a pile of rye bread loaves lavishly buttered, and a pie stuffed with sweet radishes and cinnamon were only part of the selection. Their light trails of drifting steam and golden-brown color cast the room in a glow.

“Wahhh! It’s a feast!” The captain and Anastasia both cried tears of joy while stuffing their faces.

Maria’s plate had been equally filled with food, but she grasped a fork and knife. She carefully placed cut chunks of food in her mouth and drank a sip of water after each bite. “Thank you again for having us. It has been weeks since we’ve eaten a proper meal,” Maria said after chewing and swallowing.

“Don’t mention it. I was worried sick over Fyora’s whereabouts after her letter trail went silent. To see her again, and with her beautiful companions is a blessing.” the captain’s mother remarked with a tired smile. While her husband had assisted in preparing the meal, the work required was more than enough for her frail body.

“Ma, Dad, how’ve you been?” the captain asked.

“It’s been great. Same old work, but our cart busted an axle on our way back two weeks ago. We’ve been waiting on a new one.” He took another spoonful of stew. “I asked Golden to replace only the axle, but he offered to make a whole new one. It’s taking a while, though.”

“Golden? He’s still alive?”

“He got up from bed one morning and stopped being sick. It was a good day.”

“What a lucky guy.”

“I know, right?” he laughed out loud.

On the other half of the table, Maria and Anastasia sat beside each other in near silence.

“Maria, pass me another cheese potato.” Anastasia pointed to the wooden platter to her left.

“No. Wipe your face. It’s covered in sauce.”

4

Maria lay alone in an unlit guest room. Streaks of moonlight passed through slits in the window shutters. It felt good to have her own room again, in spite of her bed being nothing more than a bundled sheet stuffed with straw. Every few moments, her eyes slowly closed on their own, but she shook her head to stay awake.

Anastasia was Maria’s best and only friend. They were the only kids in their village. After Maria’s parents had left home and never returned, Anastasia only grew closer as both her friend and only family. When Anastasia came of the age of eleven or twelve, they would receive occasional guests. Her father made every effort to treat them the same, his associates didn’t.

Maria resented the assortments of books, sweets, and jewelry bestowed upon her friend by other members of the lower nobility. Anastasia would never hesitate to offer them up to Maria, but it wasn’t enough. No amount of compassion from her friend could sate her jealousy. Thus, she applied and entered an academy which held the faraway promise of a rank and title; it offered a path to real equality. When Maria left, Anastasia was heartbroken. She had threatened to jump out the window of their home’s third floor, but Maria left and didn’t look back.

Studying at the academy exacted enormous pressure on Maria. Endless cycles of physical training, etiquette, and study wore less on Maria’s body than it did on her mind. Violations of their strict code of conduct were harshly punished. When she returned, Anastasia was the same as before. She spent her days greeting guests, watching her ribbon animals roam through the snowy village, and casually examining literature in her study. Before Maria had left, she’d enjoyed doing these same things, but after her return, she felt nothing towards any of these activities. Mock battles with Anastasia, something she’d always looked forward to, brought her no joy.

Shortly after their conscription to assist in quelling the rebellion, a pack of wolves attacked a herd of domestic animals trapped in an open barn. Maria dispatched the attackers in less than a minute, tearing them to pieces to the point where they could not even be identified as wolves. Seeing their blood and flesh fly about brought her the first happiness she’d experienced in years.

She understood that nothing about Anastasia had changed, but she had lost something important. Anastasia was her same foolish, naive self, and while Maria found this bothersome, nothing was a greater concern than her friend. She wished to herself that she might find normal happiness again at some point in her journey.

The door burst open and light from the hallway flooded into the room. It was the captain, wearing a thin cotton towel around her waist and a white undershirt.

“Maria, I know it’s late, but do you want to bathe in a hot spring?”

“What’s a hot spring?” Maria asked in surprise.

“Pools of warm bubbly water near the plateau. It’s a bit of a walk, so bring a jacket.”

5

Anastasia sat alone in a warm pool with her eyes closed. The moon’s reflection rippled along the surface of the steaming-hot water. Bleached white rock surrounded the pool, hiding it from prying eyes.

“You’re here.” Maria appeared around the corner and plopped herself down next to her. “The water’s warm and I can feel the bubbles from below tickling my skin.”

Anastasia’s eyes stayed closed. The only sounds to be heard were the gentle splashing of water against the edges and gas bubbling up from beneath the pool.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have taken your studies lightly, and I should have been more understanding of how you felt.” Maria sat a little closer. Their shoulders stood only a few inches apart.

Anastasia opened one eye and looked at Maria from the corner of it. “And that wanderer you killed?”

“That too. But it was already dead, so I’m sure it didn’t mind.”

“Heh. I guess.” Anastasia cupped a small pocket of light blue water and tossed it at Maria’s face.

“Eh?” Maria jumped up in surprise. She blew a cloud of tiny icicles into her attacker’s face, but Anastasia ducked under the water. Maria raised her left hand out of the water. A cloud of icy rose thorns pelted them from above. She smiled in satisfaction hearing Anastasia’s gargles of discomfort from beneath the surface.

“Stop that. No ice in the bath.”

The captain stood up from behind one of the shorter rocks jutting out the side of the pool. She was in a two-piece green swimsuit. A folded piece of fabric hung down from her chest, obscuring part of her midriff, but otherwise her smooth skin and slender figure were plain to see. Most of her hair was tied in a ponytail, but a few strands sprung out to the sides.

Anastasia’s eyes shone with awe at first sight. She’d never thought of the captain as beautiful, but it was clear that she’d taken great care to maintain her ladylike looks. Maria quietly looked away, feeling a little envy. Compared to the captain, their one-piece coverings were little more than rags to avoid exposure.

“You look stunning.” Anastasia commented with a smile.

“...Very nice.” Maria uttered a barely audible mumble.

“Thanks, heh. I’d picked this up a long time ago down south but I hadn't had the chance to wear it till now.”

Maria flicked a small piece of ice at the captain’s forehead.

6

“Mister…mister!”

Canary opened his eyes to see the curious eyes of a child crouched down over him. His clothes were scraped and torn, and his travel pack was nowhere to be found. He shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. A rush of memories from the past few days flooded into his mind. He remembered it all.

A bustling trading post at the end of the rarely-trodden mountain road awaited him after he crossed the clearing. It was complete with an inn, a tavern, and no shortage of oddly-dressed merchants selling their wares.

He sat at the bar of the well-lit tavern, sipping pomegranate tea with a hint of lemon. Soldiers, guards, and civilians crowded around circular tables, gambling away their day’s wages. A pair of performers leaned against the corner wall, one with a lute and the other with a wood-whistle. They played the same simple tune over and over, but one would hardly notice if they were occupied with games or drinks.

A familiar figure in a military uniform replaced the stranger sitting beside him. It was the colonel. From up close, she lost much of the intimidating aura she held while looking down at him from horseback.

“Don’t make a scene. You’ll regret it if you do.” the colonel whispered to him. It would have been clearly audible in an empty room, but the buzz of bystanders’ conversations played a part in forcing her to raise her voice.

“I hope you don’t mind if I do.” Canary immediately stood up. He grabbed the stool on which he’d sat. Maintaining eye contact, he lifted it and swung it at the captain’s head before dashing out the door. Slamming the door behind him, he made it only a few feet out the door before a powerful tug at his ankle sent him to the ground, planting his face in the dirt.

The colonel stood up and left without buying a drink.

Official policy would have mandated she turn him over to receive a court martial, but she had other plans. She crossed hundreds of miles all while Canary helplessly pleaded for mercy bouncing about in the air. He swung his arms and wiggled his legs in a futile effort to free himself on several occasions. As he quickly learned, however, it is quite difficult to untie a knot suspending one by the ankle.

She hadn’t forgotten the threat she’d made to him days prior, and was dying to find out what was at the bottom of the sinkhole she found five miles north of the capital city limits. As any reasonable abyssal would, she cut the rope holding him up directly above the sinkhole, leaving him to fall deeper and deeper into the depths. The last thing Canary remembered before losing consciousness was the feeling of his bones breaking as he hit the bottom of the pitch-black sinkhole.

But he wasn’t there. Sunlight peeked through the light foliage above his head. A mild breeze sent the pile of leaves next to him spiraling through the air, and this girl clearly wasn’t the type to climb down a sinkhole. Her dress was a light blue, and her thick glasses suggested her eyes could not see well. She was human.

“Where is this?” Canary asked the child.

“The ant-hole. You were inside it. The ants kept biting you, so I took you out.” the child replied. She kept pointing her finger to poke his face, but pulled back at the last second.

“Great. Thank you for that.” he scanned her face with his golden-black eyes. She was an innocent girl with nothing to hide, who spent most of her time inside, reading and writing. Her presence miles from any settlement was odd.

“Why don’t you crawl down the hole and see what’s under there?” Canary pointed at the gaping sinkhole behind them.

“No, I already know,” the girl said with a smile.

“What a nice kid. What’s your name?”

“Vivian. Lady calls me Viv.”

“Lady? Who’s that?”

“My mom.”

“Your mom lets you run out here by yourself?”

“No. She’s gone, so I’m looking for her. I knew someone was in the ant-hole. It wasn’t her, it was you.” Viv explained nonchalantly.

Canary felt uneasy at her lack of alarm. “Thanks for pulling me out of the hole. I’ll be on my way now. Goodbye, Viv.” he said. He stood up, his head towering over Vivian’s.“By the way, which direction is the capital?”

“Help me find Lady.” the girl said, ignoring his question.

“No. I’ve got places to be.” Canary walked in a direction away from the ant-hole, as she’d called it.

“Help me find her! Abyssaaaal!!” she screamed and ran up to him. Her arms tightened around his ripped pant leg. No amount of strength from his spider-like arms could pry her off of him.

“No!” he shouted back. Vivian screamed incoherently. His field of vision filled with streaks of blue light. As if in free fall, he felt himself sucked through empty space shortly before hitting the ground with a thud. He was back in the hole, with the only light being a faint pinpoint from thousands of feet above. In the darkness, his thoughts turned to panic as the clicking of insect claws against the rocky ground came from every direction.

Their eyes were shining drops of black tar as they surveyed their prey. One rushed forward to bite the petrified Canary on the thigh, then the midsection. He was engulfed by ants the size of dogs crawling across his body, tearing away at the softest parts of his flesh first. Only pained convulsions escaped his mouth as his throat was torn out.

Canary opened his eyes. He was still standing. A screaming child clung to his leg, ruining the otherwise peaceful scenery.

“What did you do?” he asked in a panic. She stopped screaming and looked up at him, confused.

“Nothing.”

“I’ll help you. You did pull me out of the hole. How long has your mother been gone?”

“I don’t know!” She excitedly said, hopping in a circle around a nearby tree.

“Great. In that case, let’s go that way.” He turned to walk towards the ant-hole, thinking to toss the girl inside when she was close enough. She followed closely behind him. Their footsteps made soft crunches atop dried leaves and twigs.

“Come here. I’ll carry you.” Canary held out his hands. Without a second thought, Vivian grabbed onto them, not suspecting what he might do when he finally got a hold of her.

A blue spark, crackling with electricity, floated up from the ground. It was followed by another, and then another. Arcs of bright turquoise lightning shot from one spark to the next, weaving a web that ensnared them both in its threads. Canary’s consciousness faded for just an instant. When he regained his bearings, he and Vivian were no longer in the forest. They stood in a circular room. The floor was marked with many rings of silver and gold, sharing a common point at the center. A ring of blue crystals fastened by metal screws hung above the two, faint traces of blue electricity arcing from one to another as they slowly came to a halt. A woman stood bent over in the corner, huffing and puffing. Her hands clenched an intricate metal crank linked to the contraption above their heads by a network of pulleys and gears.

When she saw Vivian, she ripped her away from Canary, holding her daughter close while glaring at him.

“Viv! Where were you? And who’s this man?” she furiously asked.

“I don’t know him.”

“Huh? What are you talking about? We were just-” Canary was unable to finish his sentence before one flick of the woman’s index finger sent him flying out of the window of the room. It was then that he realized they had been within the top floor of a tall glass tower, and he would likely pop like a punctured waterskin when he hit the ground below.

6.5

Anastasia sat across from the captain within an abandoned watch tower. It was dotted with missing bricks, but the thick wooden logs within the tower provided enough support that it was still standing after decades of disrepair. It provided much-needed shelter from the wind and rain ceaselessly swirling about. Maria slept soundly far to the side, oblivious to the eerily whistling wind rushing through holes in the walls.

“Captain, how’d you know about this place?” Anastasia asked. The fire between them brightly illuminated her face.

“I brought my commander to my home village once. She told me all about these towers. They were important a long, long time ago,” the captain responded slyly. “She didn’t tell me about the big guys outside, though. I think those came around only a short while ago.”

“I feel safe in their presence. No one would look for us out here. I’m sure it’s why Maria looks so calm.” Anastasia looked at Maria with a slight grin. “I wish I could sleep as easily as she does.”

“And why is that?”

“I feel restless. Besides finding my father, the ribbons wrapped around my arms and legs feel as if they’re to devour me alive. They tingle when I lay down to sleep, much like when I first began wearing them.”

“You never told me much about your ribbon crafts before, so I’ve got no idea what that means to you.”

“They’re alive.”

“The ribbons?”

“Yes. I can talk to them, and they do what I say in my mind.”

“Like lice?”

“Captain, lice don’t listen to what you say.” Anastasia held her hand to her mouth and giggled.

“Oh. But do they suck your blood, or eat your skin, or anything? If they’re alive, don’t they need food?”

“They don’t. Perhaps they eat something I don’t know of.”

“Sounds strange. Don’t leave them too close to me.”

“Duly noted.”

“I’m also a little restless, but for different reasons.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“So, you know how I got Canary to help us after they locked me up?”

“I remember.”

“The people that locked me up were people that I knew personally. Their leader is this real piece of work, someone who’s completely focused on her mission. I think she’s out there somewhere, still on our tails. Anyways, I’m tired, so I’ll tell you all about her some other time.”

“Good night, captain.”

“Night, Anastasia. Why don’t you take off your ribbons when you sleep if it bothers you?”

“They keep me warm. It’s cold.”

“I see.”

The two each rolled into their separate bundles of cloth and closed their eyes.

7

“You will not leave this pass. You will die here. I swear it on my rank and on my life.”

“Then it seems neither your rank nor your life are of much worth.”

Maria faced off against a woman twenty meters ahead of her. The woman in front ran her hand through the platinum-blonde hair reaching down to her hips. A few feet behind Maria, Anastasia and the captain stood side by side. Another woman stood behind them, cutting off their escape. While the downpour of rain from above was severe, the steep stone pass running through the southern half of the plateau provided ample cover to anyone inside it. Streams of water fell from the cliffs above into shallow pools on either side of the pass.

Before crossing to safety, dilapidated stone towers running along the path had provided shelter to hide from the stone giants roaming along the crown of the plateau. They stood no less than eight stories tall. Their faceless, featureless forms were composed of living chunks of stone and gravel animated by the same forces that Anastasia imbued in her ribbons. Controlled by none, but shaped by the winds and rain, they existed only to crush whatever might cross their paths.

None of that mattered to the enemies standing before them. Both held sabers in their right hands, but the blonde woman also held a loaded musket in her left. The rocky ground around her was littered with no less than a hundred more. Their dull metallic gleam illuminated the cracked rocky floor.

“Anastasia. You and Maria will have to fight them.” the captain said.

“As a team?”

“No. It’s best if you two split up here. You’ll take the one in the front, and Maria will take the one in the back. You’ll have to trust me. And don’t let me die, please. I can’t take much more than a bad stomach ache.”

“I’ll do my best, captain.” Anastasia replied. She dashed up to Maria and whispered something in her ear. Maria’s face briefly cycled between a look of disgust and then disappointment, before turning back to the silent opponent at their rear.

Anastasia didn’t think twice before snaking her ribbons into the cracks of the ground and unearthing a massive boulder.

Her opponent released a volley of shots from her muskets. After firing one, she tossed it aside and picked up another, followed by another. Doing so made an enemy advance impossible. Enemies would helplessly cower in fear as she circled around and cut them down. Dozens of musket balls made a popping shower of sparks as they deflected off the rough boulder surface.

Anastasia dashed to the left, raising a pillar of stone with each step using the ribbons extending from her arms. She briefly considered her good fortune that the ground should be filled with cracks, as without them she would be left naked before the enemy’s barrage of bullets. She crouched and focused all of her strength into the earth below. The ribbons fastened around her thighs came loose and burrowed down, searching and finding suitable fragments of stone and earth.

An ear-splitting rumble shattered the air. Below Anastasia, her ribbons wrapped around a bundled construction of dirt and stone. It was a stone giant, smaller than the ones she’d seen, but imitating their structure clearly. A disordered array of ribbons lined every part of the stone giant’s body, animating the dead rocks as if they were alive. Atop its head, Anastasia crouched down, her eyes full with confidence. She looked down at her opponent.

The woman before her didn’t flinch, but sneered at Anastasia’s oversized ally. The ribbons giving the giant life were nothing more than targets, waiting to be peppered with musket shots and destroyed. She resumed her unending assault of bullets, each one hitting its mark. A loud snapping sound rang through Anastasia’s ears every time a ribbon was broken.

Anastasia grimaced and shouted a command. The giant raised its arms to shield itself and charged forward. Sections of its arms broke apart and fell to the ground. Her opponent dove to the left to avoid its crushing fists. Each shot sent a puff of smoke into the air, slowly building up a smokescreen. Tears gathered at the edges of Anastasia’s eyes. The smoke blanketing the scenery reduced her enemy to rolling apparitions of smoke and dust.

Anastasia had saved a single ribbon for the finishing blow. She didn’t know how it would happen, but as she rode atop the stone giant slamming its gigantic fists into the ground, she knew that it would form a blade. Stretched tightly, the edge of the ribbon was sharp and had no difficulty slitting a human’s neck.

The icy chill of steel cutting through flesh tingled along Anastasia’s neck. It stopped, trapped between two overlapping sections of ribbon. A slin sliver of blood dripped down her dress.

Anastasia clenched her left hand to recall her ribbons. The stone giant collapsed into the field of upturned earth. Her opponent’s crumbling footing sent her sprawling to the ground. Reflexively, Anastasia caught herself with a mass of tangled, frayed threads.

The opponent laid prone on the ground. Her uniform was the same as the one the captain wore, except for the silver pin on their shoulder. Anastasia cautiously approached, her last remaining ribbons ready to cut down any final resistance.

It was over in an instant. In a split second, Anastasia had found herself staring down the barrel of a musket. It was the final unfired musket her opponent had prepared, and inside it contained the hope that would end Anastasia’s life. As the trigger was pulled, a black blade cleaved the gun and the hand holding it in half. Through the broken bones, cracked ribs, and ruptured organs, her opponent barely made a sound at the sight of crimson spurting from deep within her palm.

The saber laid to the side, coated in dust. The hand that used it hung, broken and useless from a dislocated shoulder. Anastasia knelt beside her, having lost the strength to stand.

“You…are a lot tougher than your dad.” the woman whispered.

“He’d be glad to hear that,” Anastasia smiled. Face to face with a person who held the answers she sought, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Nor did she have the strength remaining to force a response. “Your name?”

“Ilyanovic. I already know yours, so I won’t return the question.”

8

“My name is Petra Sokolov, Major of the second battalion of the First Army. By the word of Pyotr, Emperor of the lands from sea to sea, you have been sentenced to die.” The woman nervously recited her self introduction as if she was attending an official meeting.

“That’s a nicer introduction I got than your boss over there. I appreciate it. In case you make it out of this alive, I’ll return the favor. My name’s Maria Petrov, former Lieutenant Captain of the twelve platoon of the sixth battalion of the First Army and ninety-ninth pristine doll of the academy. By my hand, you will be impaled by a rose thorn before you take my life or the life of my friends.”

Maria’s calm confidence was louder than any words she could speak. Her opponent struggled to keep her gaze on the rampaging blizzard hidden deep within Maria’s blue eyes.

“Prepare yourself!” the major shouted. She traced a finger along the blade of her saber. The light smear of blood along its edge ignited into a hellish red flame. To her opponent, Maria’s strength emanated from her body like a wave. Her rose petals had turned more than a dozen armored cavalry into bloody skeletons trapped by their own armor in the battle at Snowbank.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Maria was a human, just like her. A single strike to a vital point would kill her. The major wasted no time. Carving the air into seven segments with three slashes of her sword, the space between them warped and twisted from the heat. Maria’s hand swung in a clockwise motion. Ephemeral blue cherry blossoms before her interlocked their dotted petals, encasing Maria in an armor of ice.

Maria had yet to move from her initial position. When Petra’s poised body dashed to the left, right, and forward, her movements were slow and predictable.

“It was nice meeting you, Petra.” Maria held out her other hand. From deep below the earth, a great hand of leaves and tree branches pulled her out of the air like a fly in a net. Each leaf, twig, and branching wooden appendage was clear as a frozen lake. As Maria closed her hand into a fist, Maria could hear Petra’s yelps of pain as stress fractures formed in every one of her bones. Maria pulled her hand towards herself to bring Petra’s still-struggling body close. On Maria’s face was a devilish smile. Petra was all but defeated, yet she continued to kick and wriggle her arms in a futile attempt to free herself. Maria closed her fist tighter. The wet crunches of Petra’s bones breaking apart from below her skin could be heard over the howling wind and rain from above. Her lifeless body limply hung within her bed of frozen foliage.

“That wasn’t so exciting. Now, time to help Anastasia out so we can get out of here-”

Maria had nearly turned around to leave before Petra, her body full of life, shattered the thumb of her captor’s spell with nothing but the strength of her broken body. Dozens of cuts, all executed instantly, reduced Maria’s frozen hand to an icy mist. The hand dissipated into steam and faded out of view. Petra’s eyes burned red with spirit. She pointed the point of her saber at Maria, its crimson flame growing ever brighter. When she again dashed to take Maria’s life, Maria could feel the heat searing her skin as moved to retreat.

Petra had been reborn. The great prodigy of the academy, Maria was unparalleled in her manipulation of ice. Near her graduation, it was rare that she’d end a day of combat training with a single scratch. Yet here, barely deflecting each slash and stab by a split-second ice barrier at close range, all she could do was pray that she left no openings and her opponent might fall to exhaustion.

No such thing happened. Petra only grew faster and faster, and slowly burn marks built up on Maria’s body, first on her clothes, then her face. Both hands and forearms were thoroughly red and swollen, and the throbbing pain made it ever harder for her to maintain her defense. Maria desperately tried to calm her breathing in the midst of combat. Petra, sensing her victory drawing near, made a final slash at Maria’s exposed neck.

Petra Sokolov was not particularly suited for military service. She was polite and disciplined, but she’d been chastised from a young age for avoiding challenges. When her siblings left home, each for their own reasons, she was finally left alone. Sitting at a fireplace, preparing her own meals, and growing her own crops were all that she could have hoped for. Yet two years passed, and her lifestyle had grown boring and stale. There were no more books to read, no more meals to cook, and no more songs to sing. As Maria had, she joined the academy to make something of herself. And while no one would consider her a poor student, the reality was clear. She was not someone that could compete with the monsters of this world.

A violent shockwave expanded from Maria’s body. It painted the cliff sides with a coating of jagged ice crystals. The streams of water flowing down the cliff side froze and shattered, thin fragments clattering against shallow pools of clear ice. The sounds of Anastasia’s battle were blotted out, and Maria stood in silence. Petra’s frozen form, still standing with its sword outstretched, no more than two inches from Maria’s neck. Maria saw life quickly drain from Petra’s frozen body. Petra could not even muster a frown, or a tear, at the fact that her life would end here.

Maria faced the frozen corpse before her. She didn’t smile. A single tear fell from Maria’s face, and she carefully laid the body down at her feet.

9

Maria appeared from behind Anastasia’s kneeling figure. Her clothes and skin were covered in burns. The captain crouched next to the three, gently lifting up and setting down Ilyanovic’s arm every few seconds.

“So, what happened?” Maria asked. She peered at the apparent stalemate between Anastasia and the officer that Maria did not recognize.

“She’s an abyssal. Her injuries look bad now, but give it a couple days and she’ll be good as new.” the captain said plainly.

“...” Ilyanovic blinked and looked up at Maria. “What happened to her?”

“She’s dead. But you should be proud. It could have been her victory today.”

“I’m…not proud of that. Not at all.” tears at the edges of the colonel’s eyes fell to the ground one after another. She swallowed her emotions and she briefly looked up at each of them. “I have a request. A small consolation for the defeated.”

“What is it?” the captain asked solemnly.

“Please…don’t let me live.”

“You’re an abyssal. No matter what we do, you’ll come back eventually.”

“Burn me to ash and scatter me into the wind.”

“And that will kill you?”

“It will let me rest. For hundreds, maybe thousands of years. Perhaps forever.”

“Sorry, but that’s up to this girl over here,” the captain pointed at Anastasia. “And she’s sleeping.”

The colonel sighed. Her defeated blue eyes stared at nothing while she gazed upwards. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a peak of sunlight through the blanket of rain clouds.

10

The young emperor laid in the corner of the royal infirmary. Rows of medical instruments and medicine bottles, filled with unthinkable serums and elixirs, laid haphazardly arranged along an uneven row of wooden shelves.

“The curse.” Friedrich eyed the young emperor as he handed him a yellow-orange powder wrapped in cloth. The emperor swallowed it in one gulp. “Lady Emily, have you made any discoveries?”

The lady quietly sat atop a pile of obsolete medical manuals, their pages yellow from decay.

“It’s the same as the one affecting the general. It seems you’ve been touched by it, but indirectly. It feeds not on you, but on your power.” she explained. “I’m not certain, but the curse may come from the second rift. If we close it, you could be cured. You will also lose whatever power was granted to you, but to preserve your life, I believe it is worth the cost.”