At his weakest, a face he wished never to see again appeared right before his eyes. The man who deceived him, fooled his household. The seducer, the traitor himself—Aren in the flesh.
They stood in silence, inspecting each other's eyes as if they could decipher the soul. Kallen was an open book, his anger so palpable it could permeate through his skin. Aren on the other hand, unreadable. The boy couldn’t gauge what was going through the Swan’s mind. He felt a wall severing the man’s thoughts and emotions from the rest of the world. This aura of emptiness—at this moment—resembled his master the most.
“Is he also part of this?” Said Kallen, voice as cold as ice, devoid of the emotions brewing inside.
“Aye! Got it quick again, but it’s not what you think. If anything it will surprise you.” Replied Ani with a snarky smile. “Green-eyed pup over here will fight for his survival just like you~ He can thank his lineage for that. T’was someone else, he would have joined the Stream with his ancestors. Can't just dispose of the Hound’s son, can we?”
“My father has a proper name…” Aren retorted, with a tone halfway between deference and defiance. Yet, with a simple look, the northern lady made the proud scion drop his eyes to the ground, his mouth sealed shut. It straightened every hair on Kallen’s back.
The blue-blooded warrior, who used to always wear pride like a cloak, became so uncharacteristically meek when he addressed Ani that Kallen's wariness of the woman doubled instantly. Back at the tower, he had to burn through his life just to corner him. Whatever she had done to bend his will to this point was beyond the child’s comprehension. After all, killing was far easier than submission.
Besides, While everyone knew of Aren’s noble blood, Kal never exactly knew where his sister’s longtime lover hailed from. The Swan stayed private and everyone was satisfied with it. He heard it a couple times on that fateful night but today confirmed it: House Dumas—enforcers of the Central Plain, decorated knights of the Empire, heirs of the Iron Blood. Subjugating someone of this stature could only inspire fear. It did in Kallen’s case, mixed with a hint of envy.
“...Is he…Will he join me in Belistad..?” Asked the distraught boy, much more cautious.
“No, we struck a deal he couldn’t refuse. He is bound to return to Naar-Aje; we’re in dire need of a rat over there—someone close to his master and those backing him up.” Said Anya with her usual cheerful tone, wholly disconnected from the tension she had built up around herself.
“You mean the Swans?”
The moment Kallen’s question ended, the disciple's hands twitched, the lady answered.
“What the old man used on you wasn’t your regular Kindling, t’was far beyond that. We are talking Witchcraft here.” Kallen’s eyes opened wider while Aren’s fist tightened. “The ignorant would mistake it for some ancient Flame Art, but it can’t fool the trained eyes. That fire was alive—and he tamed it. The old man’s allegiance lies elsewhere, and he trusted his pup enough to show it off.”
“...If I go back, even hurt and bruised, I won’t be trusted….” Replied Aren, avoiding any kind of eye contact with the other two.
“We know… But that’s part of what makes you valuable. They may interrogate you, but they would never torture a Dumas; even Naar-Aje wouldn’t be able to get away with it. They will assume we are using you and attempt to seduce you to betray us. It’s your role to comply but not be swayed, we already talked about consequences didn’t we?”
Kallen saw it again: fear. Aren’s shaken gaze betrayed a weak side of him the kid couldn’t even conceive before the tragedy. Anya continued, cheerfully joining her hands together.
“I brought you two here to bury the past and work together~”
Her tone twisted Kal’s face so much that many could think he turned back into his feral form. It wasn’t on purpose. Kallen knew better than to anger the woman who held his life and more in the palm of her hand, but he couldn’t help it.
The man he slowly started to accept as an elder brother held his blade against him, threw his sister away, and was ready to let everyone burn if he was asked to. The bloodlust was no more, but the pain remained. Hatred was the only sentiment he could harbor towards him. Betrayal was the wound Kal loathed the most, it was only a mirror of his weakness and naivety.
“...At the very least, I liked that you stayed silent. Next time, contain yourself. Your seniors won’t appreciate it one bit. Me included.” Anya’s visage stayed the same, a gentle smile and expression. But her grey eyes couldn’t lie. Was it disappointment? The only thing the young man was certain of was that she did it purposefully.
“Understood…” He replied, almost silently. A grim expression then drew itself onto Ani’s face.
“...Good. Now, you two listen. In the event you boys were to crosspath outside of an assignment, Swanlet, I want you and your master to avoid Belistad as much as possible. Now that they’re onto us, Naar-Aje will use any excuse to visit. Kid, whatever happens, that old man can’t see you alive. Never. Unless you want to deal with a Crown Eater—.”
“ENOUGH!” Aren roared, engulfed by rage, his voice echoed loudly across the room. His meek and suppressed tone was no more. ”My master using the dark arts is one thing, but this accusation insults all defenders of the Flame!”
“Woah…such fervor…did your light exile actually turned you into a faithful servant after all?” Aren’s eyes lit up in anger before targeting the ground once again seconds later. This sentence, whatever it ment, it stung. Ani pursued. ”Listen to yourself…The 9th Ascetic of Naar-Aje himself, is a heretic. You were so close that he felt comfortable revealing it in front of you, son of Dumas of all people.” After a brief pause, Anya Continued.” Does a single part of you truly believe that the cult as a whole isn’t compromised? He would have made you their puppet if we failed to capture you. And deep down, you know it.”
While Aren could only tighten his fists harder as drops of red tainted his fingers, Kallen grasped only now the enormity of what he was up against back in the Hollow Tower—the Jade Crown's enemy. No, of the whole world. Few managed to tarnish Aedhan II’s order during his almost 200 years reign, and even fewer forcibly inscribed their name in history doing so. The Black Coronation Tragedy, the end of a Bloodline, the Empire remembers.
“…An-…Miss Anya…is the Crown Eater our enemy..?” Said Kal with a voice that could barely hide how terrified he was.
“Isn’t he everyone’s?” She replied almost instantly.
”You know that’s not..!” After a deafening moment of silence he timidly added. “I’m sorry…Miss…”
After staying quiet and impassible for a few seconds, she grinned then slowly walked up to the injured halfling. Cold sweat dripped on his forehead as he knew he was out of line once again. As she finally reached the bed, she elegantly crouched so they could meet at eye level. With an almost motherly smile she gently slicked back the kid’s fuzzy hair, revealing his forehead, his scar, his horn.
”It’s true, you went through a lot. You just woke up, and you’re only a kid after all. How old are you?”
”…Thirteen…”
”…That’s how old I was when I became a Vessel.” She said as she kept stroking his unruly hair gently. ” You seem like a quick learner, so I won’t be too harsh on you today, it’s your first. Should I satisfy your curiosity one last time?”
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Too easy, that’s what it was. But Kallen’s agitation was justified, in fact, anybody would tremble at the idea of going against the man who could make the Frontier fall, devastate a Greater Clan, swallow a Crowned House by himself, declare war on the Emperor in the name of the Fallen Lord. With a quiet nod, he indulged in his concern. Anya exhaled a short sight then pointed her index finger on his forehead, her sharp nail scraping against his skin.
”Fine, but I warned you, sometimes ignorance is for the best…” After a brief pause she pursued. “Corrupting the Cult of the Divine Flame isn’t something your everyday coven can pull off, in fact it’s probably impossible. Unless…”
”Unless the corruption was born from within…” Replied Aren, with an uncharacteristic darkness in his voice.
”The pup is finally coming around~” Ani quipped , amused. “The Fallen hailed from the cult after all, what if some of them decided to fall back on their ancient hero’s ways? If that is the case, then who better to back them up than the Black Moon Swordsman, bane of House Nocta, the Crown Thief.”
”That lunatic doesn't answer to anyone, blood is his only currency. How can you be sure he will comply, or that they are even allied? The Mage of the Ashes has many worshipp—” As the Swan finally showed some spine to the northern lady, a long dark knife nested itself in the frame of the door, a hair breath from his head.
“What choice does he have, they created him after all—Him and his siblings.” She replied coldly with a smile to match. Her eyes were as sharp as the weapon she launched.
The two men in the room stayed quiet. Aren eyes showed he wasn’t worried about the blade that missed his head by an inch, Kal neither. The man who terrorized the South then the Empire itself was merely someone’s creation, others lurk in the dark, waiting for their time to appear. Even worse, those were the individuals he would need to be wary of from now on. While Aren quietly left the room, Kal remained frozen. In all honesty, this time, he would have preferred not knowing what he just learned.
”Warned you~” She said lightly. ”Take it as a valuable lesson. Sometimes, ignorance is also an asset.” As she removed her finger from his forehead, she finally stood up and stretched her back and arms. “Now rest, recover fully, this house might be the last safe place you will see in this life.”
As she quietly follows Aren’s steps and leave the room, a heated liquid drips down from above his brows, snakes its way around his nose just to end on his lips, the taste of iron, blood. Was this a warning to engrave this lesson in his mind? A reminder that behind this smile she was still in control? Or maybe all this was a test all along. Falling on his back with all his weight on the mattress, he figured that as of now, he had much to process—much to meditate on.
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A week later, 25th day of the 3rd Cycle, year 495
“Oh there is our immortal. The horn’s not gone yet?”
Kal emerged from the forest cabin, where he has been nursed for days. Most of the scales shed off, the horn shortened. The damp, rich scent of the sprawling forest greeted him, just as it had every time he stepped outside. By now, he had grown used to the fresh air, though it still felt strange after so many days confined indoors.
Only two days after waking, Ani had helped him take his first steps outside. By the third, he could walk unaided. By the fourth, he could run. Such were the blessings—and curses—of the marked. But while his body healed, his thoughts remained heavy, weighed down by Aren’s parting words.
Aren left the same day they met again, but his final words to him remained.
“I won’t apologize to you. I believe you're as dangerous as those who’re holding us in chains. But if you see her again…Tell her that I’m sorry. Sorry that we ever met…”
At the time, Kal replied with crude and bitter insults. He could feel the sincerity in the young man’s words, which hurt much more.
As he opened the door, he was greeted by the blinding light of the sun shining over the green sea that hosted him for at least a fortnight. Forced to squint by the rays who managed to slither by the oversized leaves of the Sofran Oaks, a familiar voice called to him. One that sounded deep but sweet, rough but articulate, the man who saved him in the now crumbled Hollow Tower. The playful shadow.
“Hope you prepped him good Ani, I want him to live up to the title.”
With his eyes finally getting accustomed to the light, he could at last discern the face of his so-called savior. Slightly tan skin, long healthy blonde hair tied in a loose bun, irises as dark as the void, by a simple look, he knew he was in front of a Metrak man. Though he wasn’t used to seeing one who had the proportions of your regular adult male. Even less seeing one without their ritual forehead scar. He greeted Kallen with a wide smile, however the kid could only reply with a cold silent expression.
”Name’s Arthur, but call me Art, you’re are one of us now.” Arthur didn’t seem fazed by Kallen’s cold stare. If anything, the lack of response seemed to amuse him further. ”You’re already in the right mindset I see, did Saf’ help you with the briefing Anya?”
”Shut it.” Replied Ani, matching the coldness of her protégee.
The talkative man was leaning against a large and long closed cart made of wood and metal. The weathered panels bleached by years of travel between the bitter cold Frontier and the warmer mainland betrayed the age of that old thing. The iron on the wheel, now rusted to a deep umber, rested half buried in the humid wild grass underneath. The two Veloses were resting nearby, one asleep on its stomach, head against the car, the other one quenching its thirst with a bucket of fresh water, standing on its 6 powerful legs. The equine creatures looked uncharacteristically peaceful, they knew that unlike with the common folks, they were safe around vessels.
Above the car, perched atop its roof like a sentinel, a tall man sat cross-legged, almost mediating. Mask on, wearing the same cloak subject to the wind’s whims, the Captain was on watch—surveilling the area, not paying attention to those beneath him.
“They came from the city just for you. From now on, life as you remember it ends. Consider it your second birthday~” Ani, coming from behind him, caught the boy in a possessive embrace, putting him in a mix of discomfort, and a hint of embarrassment.
”Before you ask, we left them somewhere safe, where they could at least try to live a normal life, safe from harm...Until you mess up of course.” While Art’s words sounded like a threat, his expression didn’t display any sign of malice.
”I know… She kept repeating it…” Replied Kallen in his signature defiant voice.
”Hahaha that’s the spirit!” Laughed the southern warrior while clapping his hands.” Not the most subtle isn’t she? I think you’ll be just fine.” After a brief pause to catch his breath, Arthur continued. ”Are we ready to leave? I want to reach Nightbrige before sundown.”
Kallen took a last and long look at the cabin. This small haven in the middle of the first northern forests and its quiet beauty, for a few days became a sanctuary of sort. Inside, he healed his body and steeled his mind. Essence, the blood of the Tree was flowing within him, he was about to be one of them, a Vessel, but only as a mere puppet. Only two choices opened itself to him, either become these people’s pet and stay satisfied with laying his hopes on a fragile promise, or take the risk to use the opportunities he will get to bare his fangs against his captors, hoping they were venomous enough to shake them off and free his people.
To him, the choice was an easy one, but both paths rested on a common thread. Leaving his past behind him was an impossibility, for Kara and Alm survival, Kal from Melhem needed to survive, one way or another. Whatever Bathory was about to put him through, the flame that burned within must remain. Whatever he was about to get molded into, reborn as, this fire must be among its foundations.
”Take a look.”
Upon hearing for the first time this voice so deep that air seemed to vibrate along with it, Kal looked back. The Captain, holding a familiar scroll in his signature gauntlet, finally made himself heard.
”Your sister, she begged for me to give you this…”
”…” While he remained silent, the young man instantly recognized the old scroll Kara gave him before his home fell under fire and stones.
With a finger of his clawed hand, the cloaked warrior opened the seal and unfold the family heirloom. Without saying a word, he stared at its content, leaving only the sound of the leaves and birds chirping. After a minute, he re-folded the old document and inspected the kid from head to toe, once again making him feel naked. Too scared to speak up, Kallen could only look down, deeply intimidated by the man who almost ended a Black Swan by himself.
”Well, how romantic, even among filth and malice, a mother’s love still stands strong…”
And with a slight twist of the wrist, the scroll explode into smaller particles, destroyed in the metallic hands of the masked man.
“YOU—” Kallen is immediately stopped in his course by Ani.
”You’re nothing special. I inspected your body while you were asleep, I see a decent warrior at most. The Embers are the only thing separating you from average. We don’t need average. Your spirit on the other hand, hopefully, will make this whole endeavor worthwhile.” The man stood up without a sound, like he was only an image, an illusion. ”Luckily for you, where you’re going isn’t a place for warriors. The art of killing doesn’t require honor but cunning. If you ever get out of this hellhole, make me bleed, only then will I deem you deserving to hear your witch’s last words. The weak don’t have the shoulders to bear the weight of the dead.”
Every sentence coming out this mask of dark metal cut deep like a knife. Fury was one of the many emotions possessing Kallen’s eyes. He knew. He knew this was mere provocation by people who couldn’t care less about him in order to push him through the incoming obstacles, a mere vessel for their designs, but it hurt nonetheless.
His mother.
Hearing this man who destroyed one of the last vestiges of her passage on earth without a care then call her this name he knew she hated deep down, infuriated him as much as the Swans betrayal.
”I swear I will—”
”Kallen.” Ani, still holding onto him, interrupted the boy. But a gesture of the hand from the Captain was enough for her to remain quiet and let the boy continue.
”…I swear I will make you bleed, then I will decide if I truly want to hear my mother’s wish from that filthy mouth of yours. ”
”KAL!” Anya, switched up her tone, visibly infuriated by her protégé’s insubordination.
The Captain leaped down from the carriage, then walked slowly toward the boy. His every step was silent, but they somehow still carried the weight of a mountain. They stared at each other for a few seconds before the one with the mask opened his mouth first.
”Well, you will come to learn that who can bleed can die, making it happen is the path we chose for you. I will be waiting to see if you’re worthy to step on it.”
As soon as the enigmatic leader finished his sentence, an intense dizziness took over Kallen, as he suddenly fell to his knees, his strength leaving his body once again. As he laid down in the tall grass, he saw the 3 Bathory shadows standing above him, Ani, a needle in hand. Kal intimately knew. When he will open his eyes again, it will not be as Kallen, the witch’s son. He also knew that behind that mask, behind those last words, a devil was hidden beneath.
End of Chapter.