Circe Milview

My mind arced high into the sky as my newly acquired emblem carried me like a leaf in the breeze. I felt pain immediately as I activated my spellform, but I couldn’t let myself falter.

“Hold it, Circe,” a voice far below said. Near where my limp body rested, my stern teacher continued to bark instructions. “The moment you allow your concentration to snap, it is over!”

I gnashed my metaphorical teeth as I strained against the pain. But Professor Entrun was right. As head of the sentry department in Khaernian Academy, he had decades of experience training sentries. A few of his students had even achieved regalias.

They had what it took, I thought, straining. I do, too!

“Switch to observing wind attribute mana,” the stern man barked. “And hold for ten seconds!”

I felt something in my core ache as I acceded his request, narrowing my sight. I’d acquired my emblem barely a week ago through mastery and I’d already been rung through with its use.

Green, flowing particles of wind mana slowly popped into existence. They swirled about in an almost playful way, keeping more to the sky than the other attributes I’d been pushed to sense.

But too early, I felt as my mind receded back into my body.

Damnit, I cursed, feeling the backlash of using my spell already. My vision swam as Professor Entrun suddenly had two heads, both speaking words that seemed a bit too distant.

“Too soon, Milview!” he snapped, his thin training rod cracking to the side. “You must hold it. A sentry’s greatest weapon is their mind. So you will hone it over and over until you weep blood and you shit the same!”

Part of me that wasn’t entirely disoriented wondered how use of an emblem could make me shit blood, but from the menacing way my professor levered his training rod, I decided not to ask.

“I–” I swallowed. “I need a moment. Please.”

“You will get no rest until you complete your ten seconds!” Entrun insisted. His slicked-back gray hair reflected the early summer sun above us. “Again!”

I groaned, blinking until there was only one of my professor before I attempted to use True Sense again. I felt my mana reserves creak as I forced my mind from my body once more, rising into the air.

“Good,” Entrun said. “Now you will try something else. Watch for fire mana! Ten seconds!”

I felt my body groan as I shifted my focus. Fire mana sparked in my vision, the deep reds flaring in the sky and across Cardigan. Ten, nine, eight…

This is easier to maintain, I thought with a hint of surprise. Why?

For some reason, I felt that the fire mana was easier to understand. The flares and retreats of each particle made a sort of instinctive sense. I looked around, doing a sweep of the city. Six, five, four…

I looked down, inspecting the nearby walls around the Khaernian Training Pavilion. Three, two…

And locked eyes with a hooded figure. Their burning orange pupils seared my metaphysical mind, forcing me to flinch back. The amount of fire mana around them was utterly absurd, to the point it pressed against the inside of my skull. I felt that aura seep into my nostrils, pressing up and up as it buckled my brain.

I gasped as True Sense was forcibly ended, the overload in my senses causing near-immediate backlash. I leaned forward, vomiting onto the ground as my core heaved.

“You were close, Milview,” Entrun allowed. “But you still failed.” He seemed to be waiting for me to speak.

“Saw… saw someone. Outside the nearby walls,” I croaked, trying to blink away that searing gaze that seemed stamped over my vision. “They had a lot of mana. Too much. Hurt to look at.”

Entrun’s normally stern face knitted in concern. “Where, Milview?” he demanded.

I pointed with a shaking arm toward the exact wall, the limb feeling like lead. Entrun barked orders to nearby guards I couldn’t understand as I curled up into a ball, shaking slightly as the effect of my spellform overloaded my senses. I forced my eyes shut as my vision swam without end, dizziness grasping me from all sides.

I didn’t know how much later it was, but I felt a stiff hand shaking my shoulders. I blinked as a water glass was proffered.

I greedily drank down the clear liquid, savoring it in the heat of the day. I heaved for breath once I’d drained the glass.

Entrun looked down at me. “You are not feeding yourself well, Milview,” he asserted with narrowed eyes. “Backlash would not strike as hard were you well-nourished.”

I slumped. Can’t afford food, I thought weakly. Seth’s medicine took up what little money Blood Milview had. I would need to hide it better. “I will eat better, Professor,” I lied.

His brow furrowed at my words, but he did not push anymore. “There was no man found along the walls, but our sentries will be on higher alert for the rest of the day. I trust my students to give me accurate information, and if a spy were to be among us…” He shook his head. “It is time for you to go home, Milview.”

I forcefully pulled myself up, wavering on my feet. I shuddered, feeling sweat beading my brow. “Yeah,” I admitted painfully. “Yeah, I’m nearing backlash. Can’t practice safely right now.”

I felt a strange sort of disassociation as I packed my small bag to leave. I had a notebook, a few pens, and a waterskin that I’d regularly refill. My possessions were meager, but they’d served me well so far. I left the training pavilion in a bit of a daze, taking note of where I was.

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Khaernian Academy wasn’t nearly as prestigious as Central Academy, but their curriculum was solid. I had to walk a few miles every morning and night to reach the academy, but it was well worth it. The movement kept me fit and healthy despite my poor nutrittion.

I trodded along the streets of Cardigan, slowly making my way back toward my small home. The upper-class houses I passed made me feel insecure in my cheaper clothes, the glaring wealth of my surroundings a stark contrast to my true destination.

But as I walked, I felt a dark, suffocating aura slowly suffuse the air. The shadows all around suddenly felt larger, their tendrils stretching further in a cold draw. The summer sun somehow seemed less bright as goosebumps suffused my flesh.

I nervously picked up my pace. Where before there was a regular stream of people walking this route, now the streets were devoid of life. The houses all around bore weeks of wear. I felt a measure of surprise that abandonment so quickly turned what were once lavish homes into drab effigies.

But considering the circumstances, it wasn’t surprising. Nobody came this way any longer.

The paved street beneath my shoes became a dark, dark color as I continued my walk. I kept my eyes focused on the way in front of me, refusing to acknowledge the blackness that coated the roads. A faint scent of rotting copper touched my nose, somehow permanently suffusing the air.

But as I passed the great plaza, I found my nervous steps slowing. I could not explain why I turned to face the massive Central Cathedral as it loomed in deep shadow, the inner halls empty and forgotten.

I’d always prayed to the Vritra. As early as I could remember, I did my duties and paid what tithe I could. If I honored the Sovereigns, surely Seth would be healed one day. They would grant him magic that would cleanse his blood of its weakness. If I continued to hone my magical powers, I would be rewarded.

But the aftermath of the Plaguefire Incursion… It made something dark churn in my heart. Scythe Seris Vritra, alongside the rising star of Spellsong, had answered High Vicar Varadoth’s challenge. Even from miles away, I was able to feel the mana from the confrontation. I’d shivered and wept as I clutched Seth’s trembling body, hoping the storm would pass. That we would be allowed to survive.

And just as quickly as it had come, the mana had ended, as if on the snap of a twig. And not long after, Lady Seris had left the cathedral in triumph with Spellsong not far behind.

She’d held Varadoth’s head. I’d seen a recording of her cool, triumphant walk from the temple. How the blood of her enemy coated the ground as if paving her way. And Spellsong mutely behind her, carrying what was presumed to be Varadoth’s body. Except I’d always thought he looked… sad. Not triumphant like his master.

In the weeks since that event, none had dared venture near the ruins of Central Cathedral. Whispers ran wild that some part of the dead High Vicar’s power still haunted the grounds as a phantom, and considering how unnaturally cold I felt, I thought those words may be true.

But I could no longer bring myself to enter that dark and forsaken cathedral. The large, blood iron doors were still open wide, almost in an inviting way, but everything beyond their line was blanketed in suffocating, deathly shadow.

If there is no Doctrination to pray to, a part of me thought, What can I do for Seth?

I clenched a pendant around my chest, the last gift from my late mother. She’d succumbed to the same blood sickness that Seth had not long after his birth. It had been just us, but I’d promised my baby brother I’d make a way to heal him.

There were rumors going around. The war with the Dicathian savages was going to enter its next phase soon. Mostly, Alacrya had just sent out small scouting missions. Probing attacks to test the Dicathian’s resolve and defenses. But now, true war would begin. Retainers and Scythes would be sent across the ocean to liberate them from their asuran overlords in Epheotus.

I can join that war, I thought. If I were to contribute somehow, wouldn’t that earn my brother his health?

I had no place to pray; to ask these questions. But one day…

I heard the mute clack of footsteps on cobblestone as someone approached the temple from the side. I turned, my first instinct to run or call for some sort of help. Who approached a lone girl in these dark, dark streets?

But then I… felt it. I’d always been more attuned to the emotions of others. I didn’t know how I could sense these things, but it had guided me more than once through my youth. And as this hooded figure approached–the same hooded figure I’d locked eyes with using True Sense–I felt something in my gut instinctually relax. For a moment, it seemed that the darkening sun above was not so shadowed.

“Were you an avid faithful?” the man asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone stare at a temple with such a complicated expression.”

I was surprised by the youth in the man’s voice. He didn’t turn to me, keeping his face hidden. I shuffled, feeling uncertain between the instincts of my mind clashing with those of my gut. Should I run? Or should I trust? “The Vritra have given me everything in my life,” I said automatically. “Shouldn’t everyone go to the temple in thanks?”

The man didn’t answer me directly. “Even now, Varadoth’s black blood coats these stones,” he said with something indecipherable in his tone. “Nobody cleaned it away. It bakes in the sun, becoming part of this place.”

The man turned to me at last, revealing a deep, steel vicar’s mask covering his face, except it semed to be fashioned into the likeness of a bird’s beak. It covered his forehead, nose, and upper cheekbones, and there was a deep handprint that seemed to grip the entire structure. The deep orange eyes within held me fast.

“Are you Circe of Blood Milview?” the man asked casually.

I didn’t know how to respond. Though before, I may have been able to flee in the face of danger, there was something hot and searing in those eyes that stayed my hand. Not out of fear. Not really. Just…

“I am,” I said, my voice sounding small and unsure.

“I would like to propose a deal,” the man said. “In return for a promise on your part, I can heal your brother Seth of his sickness.”

Shock burst through my body as I took a step forward. I felt my jaw tremble. I couldn’t explain how. Couldn’t fathom what made those thoughts run true. But I knew, from that same sense for emotion I’d always born, that this man could do what he said.

Was he a vicar? Did he have some sort of connection high in the church?

Was my faith being rewarded?

How many said they could never heal my brother? I thought after a beat. How many claimed the sickness was beyond their skills? That they could never fix him?

But then I caught onto the next part of his statement. For a promise on my part.

Blood Milview was poor and low. While long in the past, we had been a talented line of sentries, I was the last we had produced. Now, it was only me and Seth. We had no money. No resources. No connections. What could I even give this man? There was one thing.

I took a nervous step back as I instinctually covered myself with my hands. “What do you want of me?” I asked in a small voice, feeling terrified once more. “To… to heal my brother? What do you want me to give?”

The man looked at me, confusion in his eyes as I retreated. His eyes flicked to how I crossed my hands over my body, realization dawning.

And then he laughed. The bark of laughter seemed to push away the darkness around us, a warmth spreading from his center. I blinked in confusion, feeling off balanced.

“No, Lady Milview. I’m not going to do anything nefarious to you,” he said, his chuckle receding. “In return for healing your brother, you’re going to promise me one thing,” he said, holding up a finger. That jovial air simmered down. “You will never enter the war between Dicathen and Alacrya.”