No matter, everyone was fine, just unnerved by the moon turning red. And he had a nice two months getting back into the swing of things. Paperwork, dealing with Darrogh, paperwork, teaching Mary and the other young ones, more paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, it was a really good thing he actually liked most paperwork. Plus, Xenia was working on his lungs, and he felt better than ever.

Of course, he would never be so lucky to just spend his days doing paperwork.

His father had brought the Sidhe Bloodline to near ruin when the scarred man had been the Head.

Vassal Bloodlines and alliances had been lost. Funds had been gambled and whored away. Under his father, the unspoken guideline that their women weren’t to fight had become a law enforced by harsh punishments. Exceptions like Mary was turning out to be were stamped out.

His father had crippled the Bloodline for his vices and prejudiced beliefs.

Rian had been left with a ruin and was expected to bring it back to those ridiculous glory days the old generals remembered oh so fondly.

Well, he had brought them back to some semblance of functioning Bloodline. But they did it his way.

No epic battles with bloodshed and war prizes.

No.

The Ghost stole. He silently crippled, then offered a helping hand in return for favors. He made backhanded deals with scum until they had outlived their usefulness and were eliminated.

And yet, no matter how hard Rian worked, no matter how much time he spent in the shadows, there was still always more work to do.

There was always someone who needed to be gone.

The discovery of Hestia made it… bearable. He found himself wandering back to the town, sometimes with Mary in tow, sometimes without her.

Xenia had told him, the more frequently he came to her, the more work she could do to his lungs. She looked at him, treated him with gentle hands and worried eyes. And so he came to Hestia whenever he had a… job.

She didn’t see the Ghost. She didn’t see a crippled man. She saw a merchant who was a bit sick.

How he wished to be that man. He always shut down his Magic while in Hestia, desperate to just be a person. To be one of the Humans who roamed the streets of Hestia without a care in the world.

Like Katsurou.

The man he had met on his first day of Hestia was in a similar position as him. His younger sister, a girl that was the result of a tumultuous second marriage, according to the curly-haired man, was mute. Xenia was working on repairing the girl’s vocal chords.

The two men often ate and drank together at the Singing Bird while the little Hanabi was being treated by Xenia. The healer always insisted on treating Hanabi first when both she and Rian were in Hestia, which Rian was fine with.

They often talked about nothing and everything. Katsurou mostly talked about his family. The mischief Hanabi got up to, the step-mother Katsurou considered more of an older sister than anything else. He talked very little about his father, which was fair. Goddess knew that Rian wouldn’t want to talk about his own father.

Rian, for his part, talked about his quest for the Heartling Tree.

“Oh,” Katsurou had blinked when Rian had brought it up, “you mean Satori.”

“Satori?”

“The Enlightenment would be the closest translation, I think.” Katsurou waved a hand. “Sorry, we’re from a region under Akuma territory.”

Rian’s eyes sharpened. “Akuma? Are you being treated well?”

Katsurou laughed, a bit nervously. “Yeah, of course.”

Rian frowned. Though he may be addicted to the Tengu’s Magical signature, the young man was called the Warlord for a reason. He had been titled as such when he had nearly wiped out the Trojan Bloodline, leaving only non-combatants and children with the order to assimilate in Akuma territory.

He thought of the picture Mary had drawn of the incident. She had been on a trip with one of their Vassal Bloodlines when she had seen the tail end of the battle. She had had nightmares for weeks afterwards.

“Even if it wasn’t the best,” Katsurou had continued, “it could always be worse. Remember the Sidhe when that bastard Ethan was in power?” He laughed heartily then, even when the blood drained from Rian’s face at the mention of his father.

“I suppose so,” he had whispered faintly.

“Anyways, the Enlightenment. The secret of life.” Katsurou raised his tankard. “I’ll drink to that.”

Sometimes, when it was late and Hanabi was asleep, Xenia would join there discussions, Rian not really caring if people were watching while he was being healed. The three of them would just… talk. Katsurou with stories of his sisters’ antics, Xenia healing him, Rian with his research.

It was nice.

But nice things could never last.

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He was called into the War Council on the third month back.

Darrogh was there, looking vastly uncomfortable at Rian’s right hand seat. Rian sat at the head of the table, Mary standing silently behind him.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

After some strained pleasantries and bringing up minor issues, the grizzled Aiden stared him dead in the eye.

“We want the Tengu boy’s head.”

He blinked his eyes slowly. “It’s not enough that I took Kaji’s head?”

“The boy has been titled. The Warlord.” Sneers from all across the room.

Rian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve some of the pressure of sending Magic into his nearly-blind eyes so he could see. He had kept up the flow for nearly three days straight to catch up on the fucking paperwork and now it was taking it’s toll.

He decided to cut the Magic altogether, hoping that no one would notice he was only looking at the vague direction of the voices speaking to him.

“An eye for an eye, a head for a head. I already took back the Head that was stolen from us.”

Ha. Murder jokes.

“Please,” someone scoffed, one of the five redheads in the room, “we all know that Ethan’s death was a trap.”

Darrogh stirred besides him. Rian ignored it.

“Really? Do tell?”

“Insolent boy—“

“Insolent Head.” Rian snapped. “You seem to forget yourself, lieutenant.”

Goddess he hoped he got whoever this person’s rank was right.

“I’ll make this clear once again.” He steepled his fingers on the table. “I say that my father, your former head, was killed in battle. You say it was a trap. You have no proof either way. Anyone who wants to protest my claim is more than welcome to battle me in a duel. Hells, I’ll even bet my place as Head on it this time around.”

Murmurs erupted across the room.

“Rian,” Darrogh hissed, “what are you doing?!”

Being reckless.

But he was so tired of all this.

All he wanted to do was study his Magic circles and ley lines and stories so he could find the unfindable Heartling tree. A quest he would never have to complete.

“We of course,” Aiden interrupted the clamor, “wouldn’t dare to argue against your claim, you’ve proved your point numerous times.”

Because people kept challenging Rian and he kept having to put them in their place.

“However, the point still remains that the Tengu boy is dangerous. Too dangerous. And you are the only one who would be able to pull it off.

“Put it to a vote then,” he snapped, knowing that they’d never get the unanimous decision needed to veto the Head.

“All in favor of sending the Ghost after the Akuma lord?”

Hands raised across the table, and Mary hissed a breath from behind him.

Slowly, Rian turned to Darrogh. Sent Magic into his eyes because he simply could not believe what is blurred vision told him.

Darrogh, shame-faced and looking away from him, had his hand raised.

It was a unanimous vote.

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“Rian!” Darrogh ran after him as he swept out of the War Room silently after taking the official assignment document. “Rian, talk to me!”

Rian slammed his office door open and stormed inside.

“Rian— ow!”

He heard his brother stumble in the doorway, heard Mary hiss at him.

“You do not do that,” Darrogh snapped, “you don’t get to just trip me—“

“You betrayed him!” Mary yelled. Rian snarled and grabbed the both of them by the collars and slammed the door shut.

“Do not yell, I have a fucking migraine.” He released the both of them and strode to his desk, turning around and sitting on it. He pointed a finger in Darrogh’s general direction, his vision blurry. He couldn’t bear to look at his brother at the moment. “You,” he gritted out, “explain.”

“He’s dangerous.”

“We’re all fucking dangerous!” He exploded. “I can boil people alive! Mary can drown people alive! You can bury people alive! We can all make people not alive in horrible, painful ways! Do not talk to me about dangerous.” He was breathing heavily by the end of it. “I am aware.” He pointed an accusing finger at his brother. “You and all the others are just afraid of him because he’s the son of a Monster, the first in generations, and he has upset the status quo. You are afraid you’ll never be able to touch him because of your inferior, diluted blood.”

“You’re right!” Darrogh roared, “and I have no idea why you aren’t afraid!”

“Because I’m not going to kill a man because he was born to the wrong woman!”

“No, you’ll just kill people for money, and to weaken Bloodlines so you can swoop in and save the day and have them rely on you, only on you! You and your fucking favors--”

Rian reeled back as if slapped. “All of that,” he hissed, “you think I wanted to do all of that? You think I enjoy taking lives from the shadows? You think I enjoy being titled as the Ghost? No! I did it all for the good of the Line. The Bloodline you are supposed to be heading. The one I’m taking on as a responsibility for your sake.”

He slammed a hand on his desk, making Mary and Darrogh both jump. “You know what? Fine,” he seethed, “fine. I’ll kill the fucking Tengu and then the seat is yours. I don’t want it anymore. And if you don’t take it, let the generals fight for it, let them lead this rotten Bloodline to ruin. It’s cursed anyways.”

“Rian—“

He pointed out the door. “Out. Get. Out.”

“I’m not just going to let you—“

Rian slashed his hand up so fast you could barely see it. At the edge of his hand, water droplets formed and released, sending a line of water straight towards the side of Darrogh’s head. It sliced through his brother’s hair and into the wall behind him, leaving a long divot in the wall.

“Get out.”

Darrogh silently turned and left.

Rian slumped against the desk, exhausted and feeling suddenly very ill.

“You too, Mary.”

“I—“

“Please.” His breaths were becoming wet. He had got himself too worked up. Calm. He needed to calm down.

Mary whispered out the door as well, closing it quietly behind her.

Rian grabbed a mug off his desk and hacked up a glob of blood. Set it down.

Laid on the floor and closed his eyes.

----------------------------------------

The best place for Rian to sense was in the place between sleep and wakefulness.

Just aware enough to find what he needs, not aware enough for anything else.

He needed to find that signature, that perfect blend of senses. Warmth that was comforting, but bordering on hot enough to sting. The soft orange glow of dying embers, the taste of sweet smoke in his lungs, the only smoke he could breathe in without choking.

He’s choking.

Choking on water.

His father’s face is ever moving and warped in front of him, strong hands holding him down by the shoulders in the lake.

Weak. Because Rian is weak.

He spiraled his awareness out, lazily. The cool mist of Mary, the strong earth of Darrogh, who he turned away from instantly.

Darrogh always looks at him with pity before he turns away.

Better pity than hatred, like most of Rian’s siblings.

Rian can’t go outside to play in the snow.

The air is too harsh, too cold for his weak lungs.

His mental gaze crawls towards Hestia, the place he had sensed the Tengu last. It’s funny. He had forgotten about his initial quest to find the Tengu. He had been… distracted. He hadn’t even bothered to open his senses much, he was so… taken with everything, that first time. And every time after that, he had just wanted to see Xenia. Sometimes Katsurou, when the man made himself present on his days there.

The taste of apples danced on his tongue, and his eyes opened a sliver.

That taste again. He had forgotten about it.

Suddenly, the heat is there. The heat, the embers, the smoke, all wrapping around a little spark of light.

His vision was fading to black, with little sparking lights in his blurred vision.

And then suddenly, even in the cold winter water,

There was HEAT.

He could feel it, embers growing hotter by the second.

He wrapped himself around the heat, swallowing it down.

A child. The Tengu had a child with him.

And the two were getting closer and closer to the apple person.

He opened his eyes.

He forces his fluttering lids open, grabs the big hands around his shoulders.

The heat he’s taken in he screams out.

The water bubbles around him.

His father would bear his steam burn scars for the rest of his life.