But for now, I must say goodbye to the city I built with my own two hands. The city where my memories are strongest. My beacon of enlightenment. Sanasira, the city that holds a thousand histories.

-From The Last King of Elneshe’s 10th Note.

Rozu thought he was going mad. He had lost once again against Dero. And this time it seemed the man was intent on killing him. He knew that the only reason he had gotten away alive was because of luck.

If he was to go back and face the old warrior, no doubt remained in his mind that he wouldn’t return. The thought that he was being played with, treated as lesser or weaker, that was what hurt him the most.

I’m a Bladeborn. The strongest Bladeborn, a Devourer. I’m younger, faster, stronger. Why does he keep winning? Rozu asked himself. What was the secret to Dero’s strength that Rozu still didn’t understand?

He shuffled past the other soldiers marching along with him as the rain finally lightened up. They had lost Latren Stronghold, and none of them seemed in the mood to speak of it. Uninjured soldiers were few and far apart, saddled with the responsibility of holding their more useless counterparts.

Rozu had no time to entertain them, so he moved ahead of the entire party, where their mighty General awaited. Rozu had no love for the man. To him, General Venastian was just like any of his other commanders. He’d carry out their orders, but he didn’t respect them.

Still thinking about Dero, Rozu bumped into someone. He moved past them, but eyes turned to him and stared.

“What?” Rozu asked, annoyed. No one said anything, simply raising a finger behind him. Rozu looked back at the man he’d shoved aside, finding General Venastian looking back.

“Look where you’re walking, soldier,” Dolish said, brushing his side. Behind him was a group of angry Bladeborn and some woman Rozu didn’t recognize. He knew them vaguely, but couldn’t remember their names.

“Sorry…” Rozu said, not caring for his own words.

“Stop,” Dolish ordered, and Rozu took a deep breath. He paused for only a moment, before continuing to walk.

“I gave you an order, soldier. Stop,” Dolish said.

“Or what?” Rozu asked, turning back to face the man. The sheer audacity of the statement surprised the soldiers there, who kept watching the scene with interest. Dolish seemed to be growing more agitated, but sighed.

“I understand how tired you are, soldier. But that’s no reason to abandon proper etiquette. I’ll excuse this blatant disrespect, but only this once,” Dolish said, keeping his eyes trained on Rozu.

But Rozu didn’t hear any of what he had said. He simply laughed as if he’d gone mad. Really? This is what I have to deal with? A senile old General who cares about ‘proper etiquette’?

“Look around, General,” he spat out the words, “You lost the Stronghold. And you’re still issuing orders like it’s just some training exercise? Are you delusional?” he asked, moving right up to the General’s face. Dolish, for his part, barely moved. He set his eyes on the boy in front of him and let him finish, until he was done babbling.

“What can you do against me? I’m a Devourer, you’re a Commander. Between us, I’m clearly stronger.”

“And you truly believe that?” Dolish asked a simple question. Rozu stared back at Dolish, the statue of a man who barely moved.

“Yes, I do.”

And that was all that was needed. Dolish swung first, bringing a fist up into Rozu’s stomach. The Devourer blocked with his fists, but was sent flying back onto the ground. From around them, soldiers were starting to run towards Rozu, but Dolish raised a hand.

“Halt!”

The troops paused.

“Be glad for that opportunity this young soldier has provided for teaching,” he said, moving up to Rozu.

“This will be a good lesson for all of you,” he said, pulling Rozu off of the ground.

“That win or lose,” he punched Rozu upwards, “I am still,” a right hook straight to his face, “your superior officer.” Dolish finished, knocking him back down onto the ground.

Rozu hated the man’s guts right now, but in a way he was glad. He wanted someone to beat on, and whatever governed their Forms had given him the opportunity. He pulled out a bead of metal from his pouch, swallowing it and steeling himself. Then, he launched himself off of the ground and at General Venastian.

Rozu took swipes at the old General, ones that he turned aside with his hands. When he tried to punch the Dolish, he blocked the hits as if they were normal. He barely showed any signs that he was in pain at all, weaving in and out of hits as he did.

Rozu tried a straight punch but Dolish turned it aside. He crossed Rozu up, the hits more annoying than damaging. The more they fought, the more Rozu’s anger returned. Dolish looked at him with those same eyes, almost pitying him as they fought. That was the kind of look Rozu hated, the kind that drove him mad.

Both Dero and the General fought like he was barely a nuisance, more of a pest than anything. He didn’t know when, but the madness became so unbearable that Rozu abandoned strategy. He wasn’t even fighting Dolish anymore, just swiping at him like a wild animal.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He didn’t care of how he looked. How he appeared rabid beside him. He just wanted to make Dolish hurt, no matter the cost. He swiped and swiped, gouging lines across the General’s flesh until he felt a hand on his throat.

Despite his strength, despite his hallowmancy, Rozu was slammed onto the ground. He felt the wind leaving his lungs, pain rocking his body as he lost focus. His eyes blurred, but he kept slashing. More lines of blood appeared on Dolish’s arms, until the whole arm was covered in them.

And then, the swipes stopped. Rozu’s bewl left him, his hallowmancy left him, leaving only a tired and enraged child behind. A child, who by all intents, should’ve been killed before he could cause any more problems. But it seemed it wouldn’t be that easy.

That same expression of pity still stuck on the General’s face, even as he let go of Rozu and moved away. The Devourer didn’t even try to stand up, laying there on the grass as a light drizzle covered him. On a whim, he looked over to the side, at the General.

Dolish’s eyes were fixed ahead of him, staring up. He’d forgotten entirely about Rozu. When the boy looked to see what it was that had captured the General’s attention, he found another army cresting the hill in front of them.

****

Dolish was in awe. Now, of all times? The party that stood ahead of him was filled to the brim with soldiers from Yennel’s camp. He thought they were there to fight him, and his heart spiked with fear. His hand went to his dagger, but that only elicited confusion from the head of the party.

“General Venastian? We’re here for backup,” a man who held the rank of Brigadier told him. Dolish instinctively expanded his Commander field, uncaring about what his own soldiers thought. He scanned the man’s spirit, and those of the men behind him, but found no treachery.

“Who sent you?” Dolish asked the Brigadier.

“Lieutenant General Yennel. He said it was in case of an invasion in your absence,” the Brigadier replied honestly.

Dolish didn’t even sense a hint of betrayal or hidden motives. He could only vaguely guess based on the man’s emotions, but he spoke plain. Dolish scoffed, disabling his hallowmancy and moving past the Brigadier.

“You’re hours too late for that, soldier. Look around, we’ve already lost the battle,” Dolish explained, sweeping a hand behind him at the other soldiers. The Brigadier paused to take a look at Dolish’s half-dead army. Some of the soldiers were carrying men already too far gone to save, but it was as though they didn’t notice.

“I-I’m… so sorry, General. We should’ve been here sooner,” the Brigadier said apologetically.

“And yet you weren’t. Why?” Dolish asked. The Brigadier squinted looking at Dolish, the bright blue pillar rising off of his shoulders and into the sky.

“T-The Lieutenant General told us when to depart. He was afraid the main camp would be attacked in our absence, so we had to pick the most opportune time…” the Brigadier explained, but the way he spoke made it sound more like an excuse, at least to Dolish.

Yennel… I’ll have his head for this, Dolish thought to himself. But now wasn’t the moment to take his anger out on Yennel’s subordinates.

“Pick up the injured. Treat those who you’ve the supplies to treat. And make it quick. We’ve to bring this news to the Armon at once,” Dolish ordered the Brigadier. He looked as if he wanted to raise an objection, but stopped once Dolish gave him another glare.

The Armon… Or should it be the Remont?

****

Doctor Vanon didn’t think she’d wake up. He’d been treating soldiers for months at this point, and he’d grown a certain sense for when they’d be right or not. Sometimes he’d be surprised at the recovery or lack thereof of certain patients, but most times? Most times he was right in his assessment.

The girl had been carried in by Afterburners, drenched from head to toe and wearing clothing unfit for the weather. If she’d been flown in through that rainy weather and still not woken up, then there was little hope of it happening in the future.

So, when she started to rumble in her sleep, grunting and turning over, Vanon was surprised. He was in the middle of replacing the bandages on another patient, but looked over at the girl just as her eyes opened.

“Hey, doctor!” The man he was bandaging up complained, as Vanon dropped the roll onto the ground. He complained loudly to the doctor, whose attention was solely fixed on the girl.

“Handle it yourself. You’ve got one good hand, don’t you?” Vanon replied. The soldier quieted himself and started rolling it back up, as Vanon made his way over to the other bed.

“Where am I?” was the first thing the woman asked, spoken in perfect Antir. The words shocked the doctor, but he composed himself.

“How are you feeling, child?” he asked her, kneeling down beside her bed. He took her hand in his, feeling it much warmer than before.

“I…I feel fine. But where am I. And who are you?” the girl asked, confused.

“Wait a moment,” the doctor consoled her. He stood back up and swept aside the tent flaps. He looked up into the air, and shouted.

“She’s awake!” he told Galeon, who was floating in the air. Him and a few other Afterburners. Galeon flashed him a childish smile from above, dropping down to the ground and greeting the doctor.

“Thank you for waking her, doctor!” he said to Vanon, who felt bashful.

“It wasn’t much of anything. She woke up by herself,” the doctor said, but Galeon had already moved past him and into the tent itself.

When Galeon laid eyes on the woman again, he felt a bit apprehensive. Should the first thing she see really be a hallowmancer? They were considered children of the Phasin Pantheon, one way or another, so it might be a bit overwhelming for her.

“And you are?” the girl asked.

“You speak Antir?”

“I… suppose I do?” the girl replied, amazed by her own ability, it seemed.

“Can you remember anything else about yourself?” Galeon asked.

“No, I don’t believe so…” she looked away, sadness in her eyes. When it landed on the only other patient there, she spoke up.

“You’re tightening it too much. You’re going to cut off blood flow,” she told him. The man seemed to be strangling his own arm with gauze, but paused at the suggestion. He loosened the bandages after that, nodding a thanks to her.

“See, you remember that!”

“But I didn’t know I had that knowledge,” the girl said.

“Not until you tested it,” the doctor said, walking in behind Galeon. “Perhaps if we show you something that can jostle your memories, they’ll come back to you.”

“Maybe,” the girl replied.

“How about this, then? What’s your name?” Galeon asked her. The girl thought on the question, then clutched her head as if she was in pain.

“What’s wrong!?” Galeon asked. The doctor moved past her to examine her, but she raised a hand.

“No, I’m all right,” she told them. Galeon heard the tent flaps open up behind him. Emile, Isildan and Noviselle all walked in, making Galeon smile. The girl seemed hesitant to continue now with such a large crowd.

“These are my friends. You don’t need to fear them, they won’t hurt you,” Galeon consoled her.

“She’s awake then? Good. We can get to questioning,” Noviselle said.

“Give her time to rest, Novi. She’s barely woken up,” Isil told her. Noviselle had seemed intent on interrogating her, but softened her look after what Isil had said. Galeon smiled just a bit brighter at that. Soft spot, huh?

“Who is the fine lady, anyway?” Emile asked.

“We were getting to that, until you three showed up,” the old doctor told them, more than a bit annoyed.

“My name is…. Leane?” the girl said, sounding out the words to make sure they were right.

“See, that wasn’t so hard!” Galeon said.

“Now, Leane, do you remember anything else?” Galeon asked her, moving closer to her bed.

“I am… the last… daughter of Elneshe.”