Chapter 4 Liar

“The third wish was given to a noblewoman covered in silver jewelry. She was vain, yet her vanity was justified with beauty alone and unmatched. She demanded Cintal to make it so her beauty remained forever. She was disappointed when she eventually aged and died, but she did not rust.”

The Kalvuld Archive was ancient. It was built in the same style as all Sulvuldian architecture. Carved from stone to appear soft and supple. Its edges rounded out, folds giving the illusion of fabric, as if it were a massive conical tent and not a stone building. There was a statement here, to be above nature, to work and defeat it.

Mira just wished she could appreciate it with her eyes swimming away.

“There’s so many words!” she complained, throwing another probably priceless book. Jasha smoothly caught it, placing it neatly beside Kenthad.

“Mimi don’t throw the books King Esi let us read,” he lectured as he flipped a page. “Aha! A second form of agelessness, I knew Kars the Third lived far too long.” Kenthad brought the book up, “Negligible Senescence!”

Jasha took the book, reading it skeptically, “Another attempt at immortality? Does this one actually work?”

“Not a lot from what I can see, but it led to ‘Resistance to Senescence’ which is similar to Resistance to Aging. Of course, there are significant differences between how they function…”

Mira’s ears slowly tuned out her dad’s excited chatter. The sound blurring with the soft lights of the myriad light beetles huddled in glass nests all around them.

“... and by Cintal, this is revolutionary. Perhaps only the formation of the Alloyed Kingdoms can match this,” Kenthad exclaimed after a while of gushing.

Jasha raised an eyebrow, and Mira dutifully copied her gesture. “I wonder if he did this fully for you or if he also wanted to get a hold of their books.”

Mira nodded furiously, as any good daughter would.

Kenthad bookmarked the page, and placed the book into a growing pile of others like it. “This is for you, Mira,” he opened the book Mira had thrown. “Other than the Sulvuldians, everyone keeps their Characteristics close to their chest. I may be a minister but the knowledge of useful metalborn Characteristics is held by the nobles and royals. The other kids will be coming here tomorrow, but we are the ones who’ll benefit the most from this place.”

“I know…” Mira replied with the same whine as a child far too bored with their lectures.

“How about we take a break?” Jasha suggested.

“But I’m just getting to the good part,” Kenthad replied behind his book with the same whine as a child getting his toy taken away.

Jasha looked at him, then at Mira, then very lightly smiled.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Kenthad asked.

“What about mine?” Mira asked immediately after.

“How about we tell a story as a break?” Jasha changed the topic.

“Ooh!” Mira perked up. “Like the stories of the First Metalborn?”

“Let’s go with the Three Hunters,” she suggested, nodding to Kenthad.

“The Three Shepherds? But that…” he paused for a moment. “Oh! Yes, that would be educational.”

Kenthad took his coat off, splaying it on the table and flattening it. Burning silver, he changed the color of the silver threads according to his will. From the formerly drab piece of clothing came endless fields of grass and misty mountains.

“Three brothers,” he said, and there they appeared. First and eldest was broad and confident, the second was slim and sly, the third and youngest was short and humble.

“Together they were shepherds, each leading their own herd to graze upon the mountain bounty, until one day, a spinehound appeared.”

Mira audibly gasped as Kenthad drew the creature. It was as large as a horse, each of its eight legs segmented by smooth carapace. Dotted on the sides of its triangular head were four small vestigial eyes, with four larger eyes facing the front. Its beak-like jaw was partnered by two mandibles that closed like hands in prayer. Most notable was the rest of its body, and its namesake. Thoroughly covering the wide body of the spinehound were numerous quills and spines, such that only its head and legs could barely be discerned from the pin cushioned madness. Each spine was longer than a dagger, some longer than arrows.

“It stalked the unaware brothers, waiting for the perfect opportunity.”

She cried out to the brothers to watch out as the spinehound slicked back its quills and hid itself.

“And then it struck.”

All of a sudden its spines sprung up. Its back arched like a cat preparing for flight, and with a flick, its spines went flying. Most went awry, missing entirely, but a few stabbed themselves into nearby sheep. The gray white wool was soon stained by blood. The eldest brother brought his large ax to face the beast, the middle brother turned and herded the remaining sheep to flee, while the youngest stood afraid and frozen.

For a moment it looked like the eldest and the spinehound were to battle, until the spinehound simply bit down onto one of the many sheep carcasses, and started eating.

“The brothers successfully led the rest of the herd away,” Kenthad said, the pictures changing to the warmth of the farmstead. “But the spinehound continued to hunt, nipping at the herds.” More images of dead sheep. Mira felt her heartbeat hasten, her breathing became rapid.

“Until one day the eldest brother decided enough! He would take the ‘Invincible’ Characteristic and face the beast…” Kenthad continued, but Mira wasn’t listening. The picture of dead sheep had long disappeared from the coat, replaced by the eldest brother’s righteous anger, but she couldn’t get it out of her head. Mira kept seeing the dead sheep, covered in spines and bleeding on the grass.

The grass then became asphalt, the spines disappeared, leaving only bloody holes, and soon, the sheep had their wool stripped, revealing Mira dead on the ground.

She felt someone grab her, a muted, panicked, and worried voice calling out to her. But Mira wasn’t there, she was dead in a hated world, her body frail and riddled with holes as the warmth sapped away from her. She couldn’t escape, she could never escape.

And then, Mira heard a hum. It was a familiar tune to her, yet alien as well. Even at a low hum it felt loud and deep, her entire body seemed to resonate with its tune. As if she didn’t just hear it with her ears but deeper within herself. Her heartbeat calmed, its wild and rapid beating steadying to move in harmony with the tune, until the memory of her last life faded away like embers in a dying campfire.

Stolen story; please report.

Jasha was hugging her as she hummed that strange song. Covering them was Kenthad’s coat as he held a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Mira rubbed her eyes, only just noticing she had been crying. Kenthad took out a napkin, it was beautifully embroidered with silver and gold thread. Without hesitation he brought it to his daughter’s eyes and cleaned off the tears and snot.

“What happened Mimi?” Jasha’s voice was gentle, yet thick with concern and worry.

“I…” she tried to start, but Mira kept pushing the memories away. She had a happy life here, she was loved, as she had wished.

She just needed to forget what happened before, and it’ll all be fine.

“The spiky thing is scary,” she said instead. Kenthad’s eyes widened, and immediately the image of the spinehound disappeared from his coat.

Jasha’s breath paused, and she tightened her hug around Mira. “Oh… Oh… I am so sorry…”

“Mum, dad, did the oldest brother kill the spinehound?” she asked.

Jasha hesitated, but Kenthad spoke up. “Not the oldest, but the youngest did.”

Without using his coat, using only his words, Kenthad told Mira, “The eldest brother took Invincibility as his Characteristic, and fought the spinehound with his ax. He wounded the spinehound, yet the Characteristic didn’t work, so he was injured and had to flee. The second brother took ‘Immunity to Piercing’, he devised a pit trap filled with spikes. Yet when the spinehound fell in, it was not greatly harmed by the spikes, and instead wounded the second brother with its quills, though to a lesser extent to the first brother.”

Kenthad held her shoulders, “It was the third brother, not the bravest or smartest who slew the beast. He took up his eldest brother’s ax, and by his second brother’s direction took ‘Resistance to Piercing’. The spinehounds’ attacks hurt and wounded him, but he held on. He saw the wound his eldest brother had left, and placed his ax there. Slaying the beast.”

“Why didn’t the Characteristics work?” Mira asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Because Vuld cannot grant absolutes,” Kenthad gently explained. “If you ask for them, what you would get would either not work or be a weaker version of something else. The second brother realized this. That’s why he had the youngest take resistance. For none could become the Strongest through the choice, but everyone can be Strong.”

“Then why didn’t his spike trap work?”

“Because beasts share Vuld’s power,” he continued. “Spinehounds, used to battling each other, already have Resistance to Piercing. So only the eldest brother’s ax could slay it.”

She shuddered, “I don’t want to ever meet one.”

“You won’t,” Kenthad softly told her. “You won’t, because I won’t ever let it.”

“Do you want to go back?” Jasha asked. “Not back to King Esi’s castle, but back home. To rest?”

Mira was silent as she considered it. Return back to the familiar halls, but the journey was months away, unless she flew back with Krita and left them behind.

“No,” she shook her head. “I want to learn more. I want to be strong, and I want to know how to be stronger.”

Jasha patted her head, nodding. As did Kenthad, who returned to his seat and began reading again. This time however, his eyes kept flickering towards Mira.

Mira for her part, sat in Jasha’s lap as they read together.

Noon came and passed. They fell back into study, it was still difficult for Mira. What they were reading were the records and summarizations of centuries of surveys and census. Along with a few research records where scholars would pay people to test out different Characteristics. As such, they weren’t usually written with readability in mind, and often filled with large words and dense concepts that she couldn’t quite unravel.

But Mira found a section with smaller scrolls. Each a short biography. One story caught her eye. A child who didn’t feel things right. The nameless boy said he didn’t feel emotions at all, and when he took the ‘Emotional’ Characteristic, the sudden breath of feelings made him realize what he was missing.

A short note at the end written in fresher ink disputed this.

‘Addendum. Many who take the ‘Emotional’ Characteristic report a similar punch of emotion. The only noteworthy thing is that the child claimed he didn’t feel any emotion beforehand. This is likely due to a lack of life experience leading to bias.’

Mira believed the child. It was a small story, but she liked it. The scroll was old, and though the boy had long grown up and died, Mira still wondered what the rest of his life was like, outside of this short snippet.

Emotional was often seen as a negative Characteristic. It made people unable to think very rationally, bursting with uncontrolled feelings. But it was certainly not the worst one.

As Mira could see, just softly overlaid like a screen around her.

You have earned the Characteristic, Traumatized

Do you wish to obtain it? Y/N

You have earned the Characteristic, Miserable

Do you wish to obtain it? Y/N

You have earned the Characteristic, Denial

Do you wish to obtain it? Y/N

You have earned the Characteristic, Forgetful

Do you wish to obtain it? Y/N

…

Each word stung at her. She had expected this, everyone had told her to expect this. One of the first tales Mira had heard was that of Fwik the Fool, who left Vuld on auto-accept and turned into a greater and greater idiot as he kept doing dumber and dumber things. She was of age now, so Vuld offered her Characteristics for every feat she had achieved.

Even if they weren’t positive.

She didn’t speak up about the Characteristics. For though she was a child, having never lived long enough in either life to be mature, Mira noticed many things as children often did. She noticed the guilt and panic in her mother’s stance, the fear and worry in her father’s face. She never wanted to see it again, because she was happy, she was loved.

Mira couldn’t accept it, she refused to be that wretched thing again.

So she simply quietly denied each and every one of them, and tried her best to forget they ever existed.

“It was a kind thing you did,” Jasha said to Kenthad later that night. Sleeping peacefully between them was Mira, after what happened that day, they couldn’t bear to have her alone.

“What?”

“You lied about the tale,” she elaborated. “In the original story, both the eldest and second brother died from the venom within the quills.”

“I think I like my version better.”

“Even though it isn’t true?”

“No story is true if you dig deep enough.”

“Maybe.”

“A story should serve people, make them feel happy. No one needs a story that makes them sad.”

“Then they are just stories,” Jasha replied, “fictions with nothing worthwhile to hear.”

“Perhaps,” Kenthad changed the topic. “You Chanted today.”

“Not really, I just remember the tones.”

“Will you ever tell her where you’re from?”

Jasha threaded her fingers through Mira’s hair, “Why would I? I’m not welcome there anymore. Maybe one day, but it’s not the time.”

A moment passed.

“It wasn’t the spinehound,” Kenthad spoke up.

“What?”

“She wasn’t afraid of the spinehound,” he continued, “she was afraid of the blood.”

Jasha rose, eyes glittering in the darkness as she stared at her husband. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “It doesn’t change anything though. I will still protect her.”

Jasha lightly knuckled his forehead, “Ow,” he exclaimed.

“We, you idiot,” she said as she laid back down.

“Yes… we will.”