By The Sword - Homepage
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I was floating.
In a dark place somewhere between nothing and nowhere, my soul existed. Blackness filled everything that I could perceive, but it wasn’t oppressive. It didn’t press in on me to murder each last ray of light. It spun in soft, elegant circles that enchanted my soul without dizzying me in the process. I felt at home as I drifted through it. Everything felt right.
At the edge of my vision, I saw a flicker of light. It pierced through the darkness around it and stopped the spinning for a moment. As my vision fixed on it, I became captivated. A warmth cascaded over me that I could only describe as comforting. The spark of white light was everything to me, and I wanted to stare at it forever.
Then it went out. The blackness swallowed it back up and began swirling again. It settled over the void and distracted me with soft movements again, almost enough to detract from the waves of uncertainty washing over my mind.
Sorrow built up in my soul. A deep longing for something I knew nothing about. Yet, the more my drifting conscious thought about it, the more I felt that I knew. The more I felt the cold, an empty stillness grown frigid at the edges. As time waxed on, I coveted warmth. I coveted the fleeting white light I’d seen for a moment before.
And as if on cue, the spark flickered anew.
Soft, white flame crackled against the black. It grew in intensity slowly, as though feeding of my attentions while I stared at it. I didn’t mind, though. It was as captivating as it had been before, and its warmth coddled me with purpose. It felt cozy and familiar, like I was a child out in the summer. And once the flame drifted close enough, it flared bright as the sun. It revealed its perfect, innocent beauty and radiated out like a beacon.
Memories came after the light, almost following its lead. Waves of some feeling crashed over my mind, but I couldn’t discern what it was. Images rose up, skewed, fractured, and terrifying. A man in an expensive suit. A charming smile. A dim room.
White light faded away and with it fled the warmth. The frigid tone encroached on my soul again. It wrapped me in a something that felt natural yet incomplete. Like I had forgotten something important.
I didn’t get much time to stew on it before the flame flared bright again. It danced through the dark and flickered its beautiful tongues as though burning through a wind that wasn’t there. More images followed the light as it waned, sending frigid tremors through my mind. An ornate knife. A scattered floor. My sense of smell rushed back at once as the putrid scent of blood registered as well.
The light faded again to leave me gasping in the infinite black. Feeling started to return to my body at a slow, unnatural pace. It stung against thin air and I only avoided all the discomfort by once again watching the flame.
It wavered ever so slightly. I didn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away.
Another flash of light made me regret my own thoughts as pain radiated through my newly acquired sense of touch. The images returned, one after another. A crazed beast. A flurry of motion. A white haze. They left a bitter taste in their wake as I felt my tongue again.
The light faded, giving me only momentary relief as I stared into darkness. The pain died down, my breath steadied out, and my gaze once again froze on the little light. It danced in perfect unison with my mind as if it and I were one.
Before I could relish in relief, another flash seared my eyes. It burned brighter than all the rest and brought a sharp fear along with it. The images came back, forcing themselves into my vision all at once. A black mist. A dark cloak. Cracked, bleached bone. I fell to my knees, the cold seeping into my muscles. The sound of soft crying reached my ears and it took me all too long to figure out that the sound was coming from me.
The light faded, leaving my blurred vision as the tears stung my eyes. The flame returned, dancing larger than normal. Something reached me from the edge of my hearing and I could do nothing else but listen.
“I don’t—“
“Mom—“
“Dad—“
“I’m sorry—“
A strained voice echoed through the dark, feeding off the flame’s light as waves of emotion washed over me. First confusion, then anger, then sorrow. And finally, as the flame dwindled to barely a spark and turned its attention solely to me, I felt the sharp pang of relief.
“Thank you.”
The little white flame flared out once more, with barely enough energy to be seen. Then it faded into the darkness for good. But the spinning didn’t begin again. It didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t the same.
I didn’t feel cold anymore. There was no distracting stillness or empty void. My soul had been warmed by the flame—all the way to my core. And I felt my entire body at once as a sharp noise entered my ears.
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“Get up!”
I jerked my head forward, blinking eyes open. The dull yellow light of the sun filtered into my blurry vision through a window. It was morning, I realized through the haze. Holding my head, I felt a dull ache echoing off my bones. And when I’d collected myself, I turned to the short, bearded man yelling at me.
“What?” I asked, my voice strained and hollow.
Galen rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “You can’t sleep in my office all day.” His voice came harsh with an edge of annoyance, but with its squeaky quality, I almost laughed. The dull, never-ending pain stopped me.
I squinted at him while rubbing my temple. “How long have I been in here?”
The short man tapped his foot on the wood floor. “After I healed you for the second time this week”—I didn’t miss that back-handed jab—“you slept here all night.”
I cocked an eyebrow, my eyes widening slightly. All night? Hadn’t I just been on my way to see Arathorn? On my way to deliver the news about his package? Memories bubbled under the surface of my mind, but something told me not to pry them apart.
“But you were strained pretty bad,” Galen continued. I flicked my eyes back up to him. “And bruised all over. So I thought I’d let you sleep ‘till morning.” Galen’s smile grew to a small smirk. “The guard that brought you here was pretty frantic too, babbling on about how he found you nearly dead.” My smile dropped, the haze uncovering things I didn’t want to see. “And he kept going on about something being wrong with Lord Arathorn. I could barely understand the lad by that point.”
My eyes widened further, pushing past the last of the fog as I remembered. A tortured grimace took my face, dull pain stinging in each of my bones. I remembered.
It had killed him. I had killed him, with my own power. I still didn’t understand it, but looking back at the crystal clear scene, I couldn’t deny it. I remembered the white flames. The lifeless body. The reaper afterward.
I took a sharp breath and pressed hands to my forehead at the oncoming headache. It had all been too fast after that. I remembered the door opening. I remembered a whole lot of screaming. I remembered the shocked faces of guards that were only barely visible through my tears.
After that, it was only a blur of movement as I was carried out of the room. There was nothing more than the receding blur like a smudged painting. It had tapered out eventually into black, and there was nothing after that.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. From the corner of my eye, Galen stopped and furrowed his brow in slight concern as he stared at me. I looked up, forcing my muscles to get used to moving again. “I’m sorry.”
It was all I could muster. I didn’t know what else to say. The memory stung. The image of the body—of Arathorn’s body—cut me to the core. He’d been my lord. I was a knight. And yet I’d killed him.
I shook my head and returned to the present, trying to piece back the fragments of my honor. I wasn’t a knight, I remembered. Not anymore. I was a ranger. And it hadn’t been my lord. Arathorn had been—and by the end, there hadn’t been any of Arathorn left. I’d killed the kanir, not him.
But just as before, that distinction didn’t make it any easier.
Galen nodded softly. The warm gesture did wonders in making me feel better. “It’s fine,” he eventually said. “You’ll be fine. And you will recover in pretty short time.” His smile inched upward, but I could see him struggling not to scrunch his face. “But you still can’t stay in here for the whole day. You have… things to face out there. And even though I like you, you’re taking up too much of my world’s damned time these days.”
The short man glared at me again, tapping his foot louder as if trying to simulate the ticking of a clock. I nodded, noting the hyperbolic gesture with a smile. Lifting my head, I looked to the door, and then back at Galen. He only raised an expectant eyebrow before widening his grin.
I opened my mouth, ready to stammer out another question. But I bit it off shortly. I knew what Galen meant, and stalling in his office pretending to be in more pain than I was wouldn’t have done anything. The past had happened, whether I liked it or not. I couldn’t change that now. All I could do was face it. So, with a weak sigh and a bob of my head, I rose from the couch and started toward the door.
Simple motion tore at my legs as they were subjected to the smallest amount of effort. The small, sore pain was annoying, but it wasn’t bad. I’d felt worse. Far worse in the past few days, even. It just told me I was alive.
I walked past Galen without another comment and pushed through the door. The warmth and light commotion of the rest of the lodge greeted me as I stepped out. The wooden hallway. The rough, well-cut wood. It was familiar. It was nice. A soft breath fell from my lips as I dragged my gaze over it and smiled. Then, raising my hand to spare one last wave toward Galen, I turned.
The wooden door slammed in my face.
Polished wooden inlaid with Galen’s red emblem filled my vision as the exaggerated slam echoed out through the space. I laughed, the sound coming out before I could even think to stop it. And rolling my shoulders as I turned away again, I felt the tension deep in my arms. It reminded me of what I’d done. That calmed my laughter in short time. So without wasting anymore time with my thoughts torturing me more than necessary, I walked off down the hall.
Morning light once again attacked my eyes as I made my way to the training room. The floor creaked lightly under me, ramping up my anxiety with every step. When I arrived, I shook my head and took a breath before walking in. A smile grew on my face as I stood before the room that had seen me flat on my ass too many times for me to count.
But it wasn’t the room I was smiling at.
“Oh look,” a voice called, as smooth and snarky as always. Kye’s signature smirk shined just as bright as light piercing in through the windows. “If it isn’t the kanir-slayer himself. How’s the high life?”
I watched her, my smile only growing. “Not at all what I imagined it to be,” I answered as she leaned back against the wall next to the weapon rack. Chuckling softly, she took another bite of the tough bread in her hand.
“So how do you feel?” she asked with her mouth full.
My foot cramped up a bit as I stepped forward, causing me to grimace as if on cue. “Not too great,” I admitted and shook off the pain. My brow furrowed slightly as a question rose to my lips. “How… how did you know he was a kanir?”
Kye’s expression tightened as she swallowed. “Ah. Well. News travels fast in a town this size.” I cringed at the statement I already knew to be true. But she wasn’t finished. “A member of the town guard carrying a battered and bloodied ranger through the streets tends to get people talking.” Her smirk wavered, morphing into an apologetic smile. “It didn’t take people long to find out about the charred body or the animal corpses he’d kept to keep that part of him satisfied.”
I paled, teetering in place as I remembered the knife. As I remembered the dry blood on it without knowing what it had been used for. Again, I berated myself for not seeing it sooner. But again, it was already too late.
“Shit,” I said, making no effort to hide my shame. “What, ah. What’s been the reaction so far?”
Kye straightened up, her head tilting. She shot me a caring gaze, but I didn’t miss the guilt in it. “People aren’t happy. Obviously. But… it could be worse. A lot of the attention isn’t on you, or even the Rangers, really. I’ve heard too many people just scared of the consequences it could have.” Her face tightened as she fought back a scowl. “They… they don’t know what could happen to Sarin without a lord again. Things have been going well, you know. Better than what a lot of these people can remember in the past.” Kye averted her eyes and sniffed, trying to relax her shoulders.
I nodded in shallow movements. Weight pressed down on my shoulders and I sneered. I sneered at myself. At my ignorance, my hubris, my incompetence. I hadn’t seen it—and I’d barely been able to defend myself against the kanir in my useless body. It was my fault. All of it. Even if Arathorn had been a kanir… I’d committed murder.
“So what happens to me now?” I asked, trying to keep my tone level.
Kye stopped, swallowing again before turning to me. She furrowed her brow and squinted at me. “Now? You just killed a kanir.” The weight in the term felt light a punch in the gut. But it wasn’t followed by what I’d expected. “Now you get some rest.”
I tilted my head and blinked as though trying to refresh reality. Her calm, convinced words played back in my head, but I couldn’t accept them. Get some rest? How could I just get some rest after everything I’d done? After only a month in the new life that the beast had cursed me with, I’d already disrupted a community. I’d killed the lord of the place I now had the audacity to call my home. I couldn’t rest.
But as I glanced back at Kye with bemused conviction, she only shrugged. She only raised one eyebrow at me and took another bite of the bread in her hand as though we were in the most casual situation in the world. And, even if I knew that wasn’t the case, it was more true than I’d assumed. I wasn’t in Credon anymore, I reminded myself. Things were different now. In Ruia, leadership was probably as fleeting as any other type of order. And even if that grated on me, I’d have to accept it. Maybe one day I would.
Now, though, I couldn’t shake it so easily. “Just… rest?”
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Kye nodded. “Rest. It’s all you’ll be able to do for the foreseeable future, I’d imagine. Even if most talk is on Arathorn, that doesn’t mean there’s not a fair share of scorn thrown our way. Thrown your way, specifically.” She scrunched her face awkwardly. “The townsfolk know you at this point, Agil. I… I wouldn’t imagine facing them would be the best idea.”
My expression dropped. “Oh. Right.” I rolled my shoulders, feeling the phantom weight even now. “But, no punishment? I’m not getting imprisoned?”
Kye blinked rapidly. “What?” She shook her head, stifling a chuckle. “No. That—it doesn’t work that way here. Not like it does in the stories.” I scrunched my nose at the implication that justice and order were things of myth. “You’re a ranger. Nothing like that is going to happen.” Kye’s smirk flashed again. “Though, I won’t make any promises about how Lorah deals with you.”
I nodded, a singular amused breath fleeing from my nostrils. Her words played back in my head again. They warmed me and made me feel better because they were true. No matter how hard I tried to hold onto it, I wasn’t a knight anymore. I was a ranger. That was something I could accept.
Then, with a genuine smile tugging at my lips, I dragged my gaze over the floor. Over the wooden planks and black mat to where Kye was leaning against the wall. But she wasn’t the only thing leaning. There was another object—one that stuck out light lightning in my vision.
A sword.
Sheathed in beautiful but simple black scabbard, a formidable longsword sat motionless. Almost as though it had been waiting for me to notice it. A sliver of silvery metal poking out from the top of the scabbard glinted light into my eyes. It sparkled with a contrasting brilliance that almost made me forget all the worries that had been swirling a moment before.
Kye coughed, eyeing me from the corner of my vision. I looked up, widening my eyes. And the question slipped out before I even knew it existed.
“What’s with the sword?”
Kye made a curious sound, turning toward me and raising an eyebrow. I flicked my eyes down to the scabbard by her feet and she followed my gaze with a grin.
“Oh,” she started, feigning surprise. “This?” She picked up the sword, holding it by the center of its scabbard. I resisted the urge to cringe. It wasn’t the kind of sword to be picked up near the blade.
She balanced it in her hand and faked a sort of cursory inspection. My eyes tracked every movement. The way it swayed and steadied. It had a good weight then, I thought giddily. Looking at me expectantly, she cocked an eyebrow and raised the sword in my direction. My eyes shot wide before I remembered her question.
“Yes,” I said with as much composure as I could manage. “That.”
She laughed. “It’s for you.”
I blinked, the air brushing against my empty palm suddenly much more noticeable. “For me?”
“You lost your sword when we were in Norn, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for my response. “Well, after having to fight a kanir, I thought you might appreciate another one.”
I did. My fingers twitched in the air, desperate to get around the grip of the blade. It was a slightly bowed longsword with a simple grip that had a curved guard at the end. And I must’ve been nearly salivating at it because in my peripheral vision, I saw Kye roll her eyes. She scoffed once, and before I knew it, the sword was coming straight toward me.
The ornate scabbard flew through the air with the blade and landed in my hands as awkwardly as I thought possible. It tumbled through my arms, hitting all the exact places where I’d gathered bruises and straining my arms. After a few seconds—and my body crouching to the floor—I caught the blade.
Then, staring at the beautiful black scabbard lined with silver, the awkward pain faded away. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the thing now in my arms.
Moving with more grace than my body should’ve been able to muster, I unsheathed the sword and lifted it in my hands. The perfect silver metal glinted brilliantly in the fleeting morning light. It was smooth, sharp, well-made.
Kye stared at me as I waved the blade through the air, getting a feel for its weight. It was heavier than the longswords stocked at the lodge. And longer, too. And the crossguard was smooth and accommodating.
“Where did you get it?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the shiny silver metal.
Kye snickered, swallowing whatever laughter had been building in her throat. “It’s one of Jason’s blades.” I stopped, my fingers twitching on the hilt. “Supposedly, it’s made of a conductive metal. Something that was extra effective for him when used with magic.”
I furrowed my brow. “Jason gave one of his swords for me?”
Kye raised her shoulders and was significantly less successful than before in keeping down laughter. “No,” she said. “I didn’t even ask him before I took it.”
My eyes bloomed. “What?” The image of the arrogant swordsman yelling at me was already all too clear.
Kye rolled her eyes. “He has so many of them. It doesn’t really matter.” I nodded to myself, not fully reassured. “And he hasn’t killed a kanir before.” The name made me scrunch my face, bitter feelings welling up from the back of my mind. “So it’s probably more useful with you anyway.”
I looked back to the blade in my hand, my lips slowly curling up. As I bolstered myself and stiffened my posture, I could only agree with her. After only holding the blade for a short time, I already loved it. The longer I held it, the more I could feel it, as if the blade was slowly becoming part of me.
There was no way in hell I was giving it up.
“Thank you,” I said softly as I fastened the scabbard to my belt. The weight fell by my side and I let out a breath that I hadn’t even know I was holding in.
Kye smiled at me—an actual smile instead of a smirk—and nodded. “No problem. Anything that both makes you more competent and annoys Jason in the process is a win in my book.” She chuckled before taking the last bite of bread from her hand and devouring what was left.
My fingers wrapped around the grip of the blade. It seemed to drain my exhaustion on contact. My mind wandered for a second, caught in a fleeting feeling of bliss before a question forced my thoughts to a halt.
I blinked, the worries making themselves known again. My eyebrows dropped, and all at once, I felt the headache again. “How… How did it happen, by the way?”
Kye turned to me, raising her eyebrows. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
I shook my head lightly. “Arathorn. The Lord of Sarin.” Former lord, I thought bitterly. “How did he become a kanir?”
Kye’s smirk drowned out whatever fragments of sincerity were left in her smile. She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, probably for the same reason they all turn.”
The reason reared its head in my mind as memories of the past continued to flood past. I didn’t need to ask what she meant, I knew. Power was a constant everywhere, it seemed. I just had to be glad that in my home kingdom, greed hadn’t been able to turn someone into a fucking vampire.
“Although,” Kye cut in, a tinge of something almost unnoticeable in her voice. The same way she spoke in anticipation of a joke. “Rumor has it that he corrupted himself with magical experimentation involving his own blood.”
My eyes widened. That didn’t sound like a joke. “What rumors?”
Kye smirked at me, tilting her head to the side. “The rumors that I just made up.”
I rolled my eyes and averted my gaze. But I couldn’t stop the laugh that pushed its way out of my mouth. Kye’s lips curled up into a grin far more wicked. My laugh grew louder, overpowering the passive noise level in the lodge for a second. I shook my head to calm my addled, susceptible mind.
Kye only briefly chuckled. “No. I don’t know how he turned.” She pursed her lips for a moment, narrowing her eyes. “Maybe one day we’ll find out. But now that he’s dead, it doesn’t matter all that much.
That stole the rest of my amusement. The tips of my ears burned as I remembered Arathorn’s corpse. Shaking my head only helped halfway. “I-I guess not.”
Kye nodded shortly before grabbing the bow leaning next to the wall beside her. Then she turned back, her face lighting up. “Oh. Lorah wanted to see you as soon as you woke up, by the way.”
I froze, my mouth drying. “She wants to see me?”
Kye stared with a straight brow. Unimpressed. I threw up a hand, already turning to the hallway that led to her office. I already knew the answer to my question, after all. I didn’t need clarification.
My former cellmate slumped her shoulders. “I don’t know what you can hope to expect. But, I have a hunt, so good luck.”
She flashed me a look that I just barely missed before she strung the bow onto her back and started to the door. I had comments at my lips, other questions left to ask, but before I knew it, I was just standing in an empty room.
My gaze dropped. I clutched the hilt of my new blade with everything I had. It did wonders at making me feel better. So with a breath, I turned on my heel and started off again before my thoughts could hold me up. Creaky wood flew under me again as I walked down the hallway toward the office I’d only been in a handful of times.
But by the time I’d reached it, it was unmistakable. There, shrouded in dim light only half a dozen paces in front of me was the large wooden door emblazoned with a silver version of the Ranger’s emblem.
I was moving before I could even tell myself not to. I was a ranger now, I reminded myself. Things were different. I no longer answered to a king or was bound by a knightly oath. Lorah was my leader, and if she wanted to meet with me, I was going to face it head-on.
The hallway flew past in a blur, blank wooden walls only sparsely populated by equally blank doors. Step after step, the sounds of my feet hitting the floor seemed to move in sync with the rhythmic pulsing of my blood.
I still remembered the first time I’d walked down this hall.
When I stepped up to the door, a full breath entered my lungs. It calmed me, but only slightly. My stomach still twisted in dread. My mind still raced like it always did. And even though I’d gotten more used to the anxiety my new body seemed prone to, I still struggled to bring my eyes up to the emblem on her door.
When I finally summoned the courage, the silver, crescent-shaped arrow stared down at me. It implored my soul with its form, reminding me of the matching symbol stitched into my tattered uniform. The final rays of morning sunlight that only barely reached this far into the hall glinted off its surface and shined in my eye. They melted away the rest of my doubts.
I knocked on the door.
Three simple knocks that were the standard around the lodge were all the warning she got. And for a second, I waited in silence. My heartbeat slowed, the air prickling at my skin. My breathing got louder, echoing in my ears until—
“Come in.”
The pleasing but muffled voice of the ranger’s leader came through the door in odd clarity. It was equal parts firm and soothing at the same time. My breathing calmed as time returned to its natural pace. I opened the door.
The room was dim, just as it always was, and Lorah was standing in the center of it. She stood hunched over her desk with her eyes flicking back and forth. Her lip was curled and despite the slumped shoulders, her posture emanated poise. It emanated purpose. She didn’t even look in my direction as she waved me in.
The door slid shut behind me, a soft noise drowned out by the silence of the room. I didn’t dare speak. The torches on the walls, each glowing softly glowing with Lorah’s characteristic yellow flame, all rose in brightness at the same rate. The ranger’s leader didn’t even so much as break a sweat at the exertion.
Stiffening her posture even further, Lorah tore her eyes off the papers on her desk and glared at me. Her eyes stayed dark for only a moment before brightening up in tandem with the rest of the room.
“Agil,” she said as warmly as she could manage with the tension in her voice. “Good to see you.”
I nodded, unflinching. “I was told you wanted to talk with me?”
She cocked an eyebrow at me, her lips curling into a smile. “Yes, of course. And I’m sure what I wanted to discuss isn’t a mystery to you, either.”
“It isn’t?” I tried, a tiny, shriveled part of me hoping she was getting at something else.
“Arathorn.” The dead man’s name sent a shiver down my spine.
“Oh.” I gulped. “That.”
She nodded at me, the shine in her eyes brightening. It failed to comfort be like it usually did. The memories rushed back, only held back from being shown to my eyes by the importance of the scene in front of me. I curled my hand into a fist.
“Yes,” she said, her eyebrows raising slightly. “That.” She crossed her arms and sighed. The yellow light of the room highlighted the shadows under her eyes. “It is quite the shame isn’t it?”
I stared at her, unable to catch her gaze. And eventually, I found myself nodding along despite the vigorous hate my stomach had for the topic. “Yes.” Kye’s words played back to me—the rumors, the citizens that now didn’t know what they would do. “It is.”
Lorah nodded briskly. “The Lord of Sarin was a kanir, and I didn’t know?” A whimsical note entered her tone, matching the light air. “Must’ve been quite the fight.”
I froze. She knew about it. It made all the sense in the world that she would. If Kye knew, she should too. But as my hand clenched tighter by my side, my logic was doing a poor job of consoling me.
I opened my mouth, immediately snapping it shut right after. I didn’t have a response. I’d fought Arathorn. I’d killed him. She had to think something of that. There had to be a punishment that came along with her suspicion, and I didn’t have anything to dissuade her from issuing it.
“Agil,” she started, her voice raising as she narrowed her eyes on me. I stared at the floor. “Do you know about the most basic principle of magic?”
I blinked, my head shaking in confusion before I could stop it.
Lorah smiled. “Perhaps not.” She walked over to the edge of her desk. “Well, magic is just the manipulation of the energy produced by the World Soul.” I nodded, remembering all that I’d learned after living in Ruia for so long. “But not all forms of energy are the same, you know. Some are simpler than others.”
I squinted, the fact registering somewhere in my mind that I could barely access through the confusion.
She held out her palm. “See, the most simple form of magic is heat. It is often expressed with fire.” A small yellow flame appeared in her hand, waving in a nonexistent wind. “The color and nature of which changes with each individual soul. However, it gets much more complex.”
Her face contorted in concentration. I watched, frozen and perplexed as she killed the small flame. Her fingers twitched, the air lightening more as she manipulated the energy in it. And a beam of golden light shot across the room, illuminating everything in its path.
Lorah turned back to me with a grin. “The more complicated the energy, the harder it is to shape and control. But it all just takes finesse. It all just takes experience with using the soul as a conduit for the world’s energy.” Stark lines must’ve been evident on my forehead as I watched her curl her fingers into a fist. “Eventually even…” She curled her fingers into a fist and the wooden chair behind her desk broke into pieces with a flash of light. “You can even change objects around us.”
My hand unconsciously drifted to the blade at my side, its existence reassuring me more than anything else could. The thing at the back of my mind stirred, slowly coming to attention as the display of magical power continued.
“All it takes is power, which is something that is different with every soul.” She eyed me for a second, her gaze heavy enough to pin me down. “But as with all types of power, it just needs the right hand to guide it.”
A shiver raced down my spine and a foreign sense of want washed over my mind. A sense of yearning and desire that reminded me of training with the blade. As the sea passed me over, the feeling eventually faded. And in its wake, I noticed sharp spots of fear mixed in with the hope, spots that I couldn’t grasp at fast enough before all the feeling left.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, trying to ignore the obvious answer to the question that was literally hiding in my mind.
Her smile dropped almost imperceptibly. She eyed me, scouring my eyes for what she knew was there before simply throwing up a hand. “No reason. It is simply something you should know.”
I nodded at the transparent lie. But I didn’t comment on it. I didn’t invite any more questions or doubts while my thoughts were still tied in knots. So as the silence crept in, I just let it hold like a permanent breath. But eventually, it was a breath I had to take.
“Thank you,” I said, giving what few words I could muster.
Lorah nodded, her eyes tightening again. “Good. Don’t forget that, if you would.” She spared a light smile. “The main reason I called you in here, though, was to inform about your duties. Obviously you are not in any state for new assignments at the moment.” She raised an eyebrow half an inch. “After the next few days, however, you will return to your duty.” My eyes widened and before I knew it, my lips had parted. Lorah didn’t let me get a single word in. “Your assignments will change. Nothing strenuous, important, or in the public eye. With Arathorn gone, I will have enough work to do without the townsfolk’s increasing unrest. Alright?”
I bobbed my head briskly, bowing a little with a smile on my face. At the mention of Arathorn, the worries came back. They continued to nag at me no matter how much I pushed them away. But Lorah was my leader, and she’d made her decision. I had to be grateful for what I’d gotten. “Thank you, Lorah.”
She smiled at me, more than a little amusement shining through. “I pulled this organization up by its bootstraps you know. Rangers protect their own.” Her gaze nearly burned my skin with its warm intensity. “No one is nobody in my lodge. And you’re a ranger now, Agil.” She rolled her wrist. “Act like one.”
I couldn’t have stopped the wide grin on my face if I’d wanted to. Nodding once again and watching Lorah hold her head high as she walked back to the work on her desk, I felt better. The doubts still nagged, but they weren’t as loud. I’d been reborn on Ruia with a vengeance. With the kind of burning hatred that stuck to the insides of my bones and cemented itself in the deepest parts of my mind. A hatred for the beast, for death itself. Before, I hadn’t been able to stave it off or make it pay. If I wanted to do that now, I needed more. Which was what I’d come here for, after all. I’d come for training, for experience, for a purpose. And damned if I didn’t have one now.
Even as Lorah shifted her attention back to the papers at her desk, my grin didn’t let up. It stretched far and wide with the kind of hope I hadn’t felt in far too long. Things were different now, I told myself once again. But that didn’t have to be a bad thing. I couldn’t change the past, but I could embrace the present, and that was exactly what I was going to do. The reaper still loomed over my head—over all of our heads, in truth. But with what I’d found after its vile trick, it was almost worth it. Because not only could I embrace the present, I could change the future.
“Oh, and Agil?” Lorah asked. I looked up, rising from my thoughts as the resolve solidified in my mind. “Things will be changing around here, and I’m going to need everyone—including you—to rise to the occasion.”
“Of course,” I said as I raised my head. The answer slipped out without even a thought. And after giving one last bow, I turned away. I looked back toward the door as silence spread back through the room. And as my muscles complained about fatigue again, I started toward it.
Though, even with the grin on my face, those doubts weren’t gone. The question that Lorah had implied still stood, and it spiraled in my head. Would I rise to the occasion?
In truth, I wasn’t sure. And as I thought about it, images flashed in front of my eyes. One-by-one they streamed past as though taunting me with the emotions they brought up. I saw Kye, notching an arrow in her bow as she smirked at me. I saw Jason, cleaning his sword as he rattled on about this or that. I saw the other rangers, hunting through the forest every day just to keep the citizens of their town safe. I saw Arathorn, the town’s former lord lying on the floor where I’d killed him. And I saw the beast, its pitch-black gaze tearing deep into my soul.
I shook my head, the doubts growing ever-larger as I thought. The images faded back into the memories they’d spawned from, and I walked forward again to try and shrug them off. It was barely effective. But as a glint of light caught my eye, I started to calm. As the silver symbol of the Rangers stared down at me from the door, I knew my answer in an instant.
Would I rise to the occasion?
Yes, I told myself. Yes I would.