Rise of Winter, Week 4, Day 4

“Lady Fredericka—”

“It’s a pleasure—”

“If I could have a moment to congratulate you—”

Freddie let them speak, zoning in and out as needed, answering politely yet distinctly unwelcoming in her tone.

No one hung around for longer than the basic greetings and minimum congratulations. No one but the Herberfore girl, Marcella.

“Oh, Lady Fredericka, you should be nicer to them,” she whispered. “They are your people.”

“I’m being nice enough,” Freddie sniped back, her irritation finally showing after over two hours of Marcella whispering names and connections in her ear.

“Tch,” Marcella responded, and Freddie shot her a glare.

“Why are you following me around anyway? I was rude to you, too.”

“Lady Fredericka,” Marcella gasped, her face perfectly scandalized, “You could never force me away.”

Freddie arched an eyebrow, and Marcella laughed lightly, like the sound of fairies in the night.

“Okay, fine, I’ll let you in on a secret.”

Freddie perked up and leaned closer to the whispering girl. As she did so, Marcella blew wind into Freddie’s ear, causing her to recoil.

“Ugh! Marcella!” Freddie griped, “Shouldn’t you be polite to me?”

Marcella eyed Freddie momentarily with a look that said she was wise beyond her years.

“You didn’t like me when I was polite. You did like it when Nolan was straightforward, bordering on rude. So, here I am. Straightforward and bordering on rude.”

Freddie met Marcella’s brown eyes, so dark they were unreadable, and then snorted.

“Fine.”

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“Did you have fun, my star?” Her mother cooed, brushing Freddie’s hair gently.

Begrudgingly, Freddie had to admit that once she stopped seeing Marcella as a nuisance, she did have a lot of fun. The girl had known so much about the other children it had been almost comical.

Marasha’s dream child was probably like Marcella. But Freddie was too exhausted to worry about other’s expectations. Nor did she really mind not being the perfect child. She was Fredericka Nemo. Whatever she was, she was the model for the children in the Duchy.

“Yeah, I hung out with Marcella Herberfore most of the night,” Freddie said, leaning back into the soothing feeling of her mother brushing her hair.

“Oh? Did you make a friend, then?” Aster smiled down at her daughter, and Freddie rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t say that. But I did agree to hang out —whenever I return from the dungeon.”

Aster’s hand froze mid-brush, “Sweetie, did you tell the Herberfore girl that there was a dungeon?”

Freddie huffed, “Of course not. I told her I was taking a trip to celebrate my Awakening, and though I didn’t know when I would return, I promised to send her a missive when I got back so we could plan a tea party.”

She said the last two words with a scrunch of her nose, and Aster resumed brushing her hair.

“Perfect. Then, I want you to get loads of sleep tonight. You don’t leave until midday tomorrow, and it’s quite the trip to the edge of the dukedom. It’ll be faster because you’ll be on horseback, but it usually takes a week and a half or so.”

“Yes, Mother,” Freddie said indulgently, then unceremoniously yawned, causing her mother to release a huff of laughter.

“I’ll see you off in the morning, as will your grandfather, father, and brothers. But the rest of the family will not know you’re on a trip until after the fact. It wouldn’t do for it to get out that you left for the dungeon delve.”

“Yes, Mother,” Freddie repeated, getting up and turning to face Aster, “As long as you and the rest are there, who cares about the aunt and uncles? They’ll survive a few weeks without me.”

The grin she gave was small and tired. So, Aster scooped Freddie into her arms and placed Freddie into her oversized bed, tucking her in.

“Sleep tight, my star,” Aster said, dropping a kiss atop Freddie’s forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, though, right?” Freddie confirmed one more time.

“Of course, darling, I wouldn’t miss your send-off for the world. Just as I’ll be there to welcome you back.”

Freddie gave her mother a wider smile and closed her eyes, “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Aster watched Freddie for a long moment before standing and turning away. As Aster left, Freddie peeked open her eyes to watch her go. It was just in time to see her mother wipe something off her face.

A pang of guilt filled Freddie. It was unusual. And Freddie didn’t like it. So, she did what she does best. She ignored it. And though sleep escaped her for a while, she eventually succumbed to its embrace.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

And when she did, she dreamed.

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“C’mon, Kalina, get up!”

Around her, the crowd was screaming, chanting, jeering, involving themselves in her pain.

“Get up and fight back!” Her coach screeched from the outside of the cage.

Kalina was detached, separate from herself, and she could feel the fire-coated hands of the ifrit, a being of whirling flames and muscle, tightening around her throat, strangling her. She could tap out and be done with it all. The fighting, the fame. The orders.

Instead, Kalina wriggled her fingers just under the ifrit’s grasp. Just enough to get air to her lungs. And though the fire would have burned anyone else, her soul rune kept her safe. Kept her sane. In a world of flames, being burned alive was impossible for Kalina.

Then she popped out her arms, pushing against the ifrit’s fingers with every ounce of strength she had cultivated over the years. Kalina found leverage and heard a crack as she got the ifrit away from her, jumping up and putting up her guard.

What was usually a quick fight for the ifrit had dragged when it came to Kalina. It always did. This particular monstrosity was one she had fought many a time in the gladiatorial games of Moscow.

They had never spoken at the after parties, never socialized outside of the cage, never wished each other the best. That wasn’t something Kalina did. She would not wish her opponents well. Never.

Their aim was her defeat. Her demise. Her eradication.

By all accounts, Kalina would have had a bright future as a Dragoon, one of the fighters against the oversized invaders that had besieged her planet. Had she been born to a better family, of course. Instead, Kalina Kastrinova was born to two useless wastes of space that had taken on more debt in Kalina’s name than one could be expected to pay back in a lifetime. Thus, at the ripe old age of fifteen, she had to become a fighter.

It was all she had. The violence in her veins. It was the only way to make money when she was so young and so, so broke.

Thus, this god-forsaken ifrit would not be taking her down.

Not then, not the next time they fought, and not any time after.

Kalina roared a ravenous sound, and she charged the being of flame, stepping right through its guard and slamming her elbow into the ifrit’s chest. Another crack. She brought her elbow down and her knee up just enough and slammed down her foot, aiming for the monstrosity’s ankle. The ifrit was too slow to react, and yet again, a crack resounded.

This was how it went, the ifrit attacked with it’s everything right of the bat, and Kalina kept her calm, took a few hits, upped the odds, and then she went feral.

As thoughts of her life flashed in her mind, rage filled her, and she overpowered the ifrit. That was what you couldn’t see from the sidelines. This ifrit loved to torment Kalina with her own memories. It was one of its soul runes, it must have been.

Would it ever learn? Kalina often wondered, but the masochistic smile that filled the thing’s face told her all she needed to know. This was it’s plan every time.

To see how far it could push her.

To see what her limits were.

But the truth was that Kalina didn’t have a limit.

She was violence incarnate.

And so, as the ifrit stumbled back, Kalina lunged again, wrapping her arm around the monstrosity’s neck, and maneuvered her way to a point of leverage. Then she flexed, pulling the force of her into the sensitive flesh of the ifrit’s neck, taking away its air faster than it could blink. Its flames began faltering, and the ever-present red hue of the ifrit’s skin dulled to pale ash.

It was out.

Across the cage, a voice resounded.

“One!”

Outside the cage, it was a mix of cheers and jeers once again. Some worshipped the ground Kalina walked on. Others prayed for her demise. They all wanted their hunk of flesh.

“Two!”

The sound of the arena died down in anticipation. Would the ifrit relight its flames? Would it be able to?

“Three!”

No, it wouldn’t.

Within a moment of the final call, the referee was down in the cage, prying Kalina’s arm off from around the ifrit’s throat. She released the monstrosity and turned to face the crowd, bloody and bruised but stronger than the monster they pitted her against.

The ref gripped Kalina’s wrist and thrust it up into the air.

“Victor —Kalina Kastrinova, the Devourer of Flame!”

Victor, victor, victor, victor, victor.

It resounded through her head, over and over and over again. It was all she heard over the roar of the crowd.

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Freddie woke violently, a cold sweat breaking out over her skin.

Daylight was filling her room, and though she knew she should have been cold, Freddie’s body felt like it was on fire.

[Regenerate]

Immediately, the deep ache of her body began to relieve itself.

She was sure some were from [Nemoan Martyr], but the rest? The rest was from the dream.

But it wasn’t really a dream, was it? Freddie thought to herself. It was a memory.

A memory she had imprinted on herself long ago. It was the same fight that her father had decided to reappear at in a drunken stupor. He’d demanded her winnings —he’d seen the odds shift before the end. And when she didn’t have the money to give him, he took a cheap shot.

She’d let it land on her. Kalina had clocked the security camera, after all. Once his fist was in her face, bruising her again and enforcing the pain she already felt, she retaliated with extreme prejudice.

It took her coach finding her in that alley, with bloodied fists and a feral grin, before Kalina had stopped attacking. It had taken an act of god to save Ivan Kastrinov’s life that night.

Freddie laughed at the memory, a cold sweat still dripping down her back.

“I can’t believe it. I’m really free of him.” Freddie’s laughter grew into a cackle until she was howling. “And her. I’m free of her, too!”

It took Freddie several minutes before her hysterical laughter died down enough for her to breathe properly.

[Regenerate]

Freddie healed her hurt sides. The laughter had lasted much too long, after all.

When she looked in the mirror, Freddie half expected to see Kalina’s face staring back at her. That was how vivid the dream had been. But all she saw was pink hair and tan skin. She saw the same wide, orange eyes she’d grown to love.

Taking a deep breath, Freddie started running a bath and getting ready.

To her, it was an auspicious start to the day ahead.

To her, it was an omen of victory.

Just as Kalina always conquered, Freddie refused to fail.

She would conquer the dungeon over and over again. She would eradicate every monster one, twice, thrice over, as her grandfather had said. Every movement calculated, every potion used strategically.

Freddie decided she would come home strong enough to withstand anything [Nemoan Martyr] could throw at her. A dagger, a sword, a beheading. A trial, a tribulation, a travesty.

She would take it all.