Chapter 579: Blue Rose

  The scent of ash filled her nostrils. Stryga sat up in a fitful cough. Sweat covered her skin and her lungs burned with every breath. She looked around, confused. Save for the small patch of flattened grass underneath her, the ground was scorched black up to the nearby grassy hills.

  The village was gone. Her army was gone. Ravellan was dead. Lana and Syrak. They were all dead.

  A memory of lilac eyes staring down at her flashed in her mind. She grimaced and shook her head. It felt like a nightmare, but here she was, alone, in the ruins of her own people.

  She picked up Krikolm and examined the sword. The scarlet sheen was as bright as always, but its sharp edge was blunt where it had failed to cut a god’s neck. The sword had been passed down through the Veres line for the last seven centuries. It was forged by the legendary Ebon Lord Koval himself.

  Krikolm was his will forged in steel. His greatest masterpiece. The red blade could cut through steel and enchanted metal as if it were wheat. The Bloodfang was the representation of Veres’ might, a promise to be the Sword that would cut down any danger to the family. And the sword held true. Stryga had never met any foe or obstacle she could not cut down. Until now.

  The Ebon gods were real.

  All her life she had done everything in the name of her House, for the honor and glory of Veres. She was the heir of Lady Alice, her mother. Stryga made the difficult choices, even when they seemed wrong, because she knew it was necessary for the good of their future. But now… Now she didn’t know.

  The Ebon gods walked among them and they were ruthless.

  Why was she spared when everyone else was slaughtered?

  “You desire answers. You will not find them here,” Stjerne’s words echoed in her mind.

  “I need to get back…” Stryga mumbled to herself and sheathed Krikolm.

  Her muscles ached and she could have sworn a few of her ribs were cracked if not outright broken. Every breath stung. What she would give to have White mana right now.

  The sun was already rising in the sky. She had been asleep for ten or so hours, that or several days. Either way, she needed to move. Stryga held her breath and called forth her magic. Yellow mana slipped into her veins and she sighed in relief.

  After the encounter with Stjerne, she wasn’t sure if she could cast magic anymore. He had somehow stopped them all from casting in his presence. It seemed impossible, but so had everything else the god had done.

  A gust of wind swirled around her body and lifted her into the sky. She stared at the horizon and made her way home.

~~~

  The guards atop the wall spotted her small figure flying towards the Shade Wall. They shouted in alarm and readied their bows. As Stryga drew close, she slowed her flight and descended to the gate.

  Soldiers rushed her, but quickly stumbled back. Even with the blood and soot covering her cracked armour, they recognized the city’s War Master.

  “Lady Veres…?!” the guard captain saluted, uncertain of what to do.

  Stryga released the wind spell and landed on the dirt road. It was meant to be elegant, but her knees buckled underneath her and she collapsed. Her mana was drained after the long flight and it took all she had to stay conscious.

  “Water…” she mumbled.

   “Get the War Master inside and bring her some water!” snapped the guard captain.

  The next few minutes were a blur. Stryga felt hands gently wrap around her shoulders and carry her through the gates. She closed her eyes and the next thing she knew she was lying in a simple cotton bed in a barracks.

  “You’re awake,” noted a familiar warm voice.

  Stryga glanced to her right. A vampiress clad in armor and a scarlet cloak stood in the corner, arms crossed. “Gwyn… How long was I out?”

  “A half an hour or so? I rushed over as soon as a guard informed me of your arrival.”

  Stryga sat up with a grimace. “I see…”

  “You look terrible, my lady.”

  “Is that right?” Stryga muttered and gingerly touched the bandages wrapped around her ribcage.

  “Don’t worry, I did them myself. I’d never let any of these simpleton healers touch you and botch up the job.”

  “Appreciate it,” she answered tiredly.

  “I shouldn’t have had to. It’s my brother’s job to keep you safe in the first place. Where is Syrak? Your Shadow should always be by your side.”

  Stryga lowered her head and hid her pained expression. “Syrak…” her voice trembled. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Syrak of the Great House of Gale fulfilled his duty as the Shield of Veres honorably.”

  Gwyn’s face paled as the words sunk in. “...Who?” she whispered.

  “Gwyn—”

  “Who did it? Who killed him!?” she screamed.

  “You can’t stop him, Gwyn.”

  “Then Sryak's murderer lives? Where? Where are they? I’ll hunt the bastard down to the ends of the world. Just tell me where I can find them.”

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  “...I can’t.”

  “You don’t get to say that. Not even you,” Gwyn seethed.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t lose anyone else,” Stryga whispered.

  “Syrak was your Shadow. He was your bonded.” Gwyn broke down in tears, “My brother deserves more than this.”

  “I’m so sorry, Gwyn.”

  “You’re our Sword, aren’t you? You’re supposed to cut down our enemies! Not protect them!”

  “Believe me, I’m protecting you from him.”

  “Since when were you a coward?” she cried angrily.

  Stryga let the insult go, a person she loved was in pain, and she couldn’t help her. Not alone. “…I need to speak to my mother.”

  Gwyn sniffed and spoke reluctantly. “Lady Veres is with Lord Gale. They led our armies outside the city and went to join the city’s main forces in the valley yesterday.”

  “No!” Stryga staggered out of bed. “They’re in danger. They’re all in danger! We need to fall back to the city.”

  “There are four Ebon Lords leading the main force. Ten thousand soldiers. I’m sure whatever danger is out there will run from them.”

  Stryga shook her head. “You don’t understand. The thing that killed Syrak, didn’t just kill him. He killed Lana. He killed Ravellan. He killed everyone. Our entire army. Dead. We couldn’t stop him.”

  Gwyn furrowed her brow. “A single person did all of that?”

  “I don’t know if it was a person… I need to go.”

  “You’re in no condition to travel.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I have to warn them.”

  Gwyn stared at her pensively for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. We still have those horses your mother bought from those Aurous merchants.”

  “Horses?” Stryga said skeptically.

  “They’re the fastest way to travel across the golden deserts. I’m sure they’re just as fast galloping across Dusk Valley. They’ll get us wherever we need to go.”

  “We?”

  “I’m coming with you and don’t you dare command me otherwise,” Gwyn glared at her.

  “...Okay.”

  “The horses are back at the manor. The maids can get you a fresh set of clothes and I’ll have the cooks prepare us some food for the road, while I get the horses ready.”

  “Thank you, Gwyn,” she said softly.

  The Gale warrior grunted without looking back and walked out the door.

~~~

  Stryga stood in the gardens of her home. The bushes were trimmed and the flowers were in eternal bloom thanks to a little help from Green magic. She had always come here to relax, her own little quiet haven in the center of the city.

  She thought coming here would help calm her emotions while she waited for Gwyn to bring the horses to the manor’s gate, but all she could think about as she stood in this verdant paradise were the burning houses of Lunis. The screams of the dying. Children crying for their mothers.

  “Gigi!” a servant called out from a window.

  “Try to keep up!” a little mischievous boy laughed and ran through the gardens.

  “And what do we have here?” Stryga called out.

  The boy froze in his steps and slowly turned to her. His face lit up and he ran over to her. “Master, you’re back!”

  She expected him to tackle her, instead, he skidded to a halt and knelt down, presenting her with his training sword.

  Master? Stryga cracked a smile. “You don’t have to go that far.”

  Gian tilted his head up, “But isn’t this the formal greeting for–”

  “Maybe for the servants, but not for my little brother.”

  Gian smiled and blushed. “Hehe.”

  And for a moment, Stryga was no longer the War Master, the Blue Rose of House Veres, or the sole survivor of a massacre. She was just an older sister, listening to her younger brother excitedly telling her about his day.

  “...I can help!” Gian insisted, tears welling up in his eyes, as he tried to convince her to join him in the war effort.

  “I know you can, Gigi,” she leaned down and kissed his forehead, “But I won’t risk your life out there, especially after today.”

  Gian rubbed his forehead with a bashful grin, and then he frowned. “Wait. After today? What happened?”

  Stryga silently cursed at her own slip-up. “That’s… don’t worry about it.” She needed to change the topic and fast. Her little brother was young, but he had an uncanny instinct for picking up the subtle things. “How’s your dad?”

  She regretted her words as soon as they came out. Gian’s expression fell and he looked away. “I don’t know, he’s always busy with his duties as family leader.” His tiny shoulders shrugged, “You probably see him more than I do.”

  “Ah, right,” Stryga grimaced. “So… you’ve mastered all five nature stances, huh? Wanna show me?”

  And that was clearly the right topic. The little boy beamed as he began talking to her about his sword skills. She didn’t blame him. Everyone in the manor knew he was a sword prodigy, the greatest in generations.

  As they talked, Stryga spotted Gwyn pulling the horses towards the front of the manor. Stryga glanced down at her brother and told him that she had to leave, even though it pained her to do so.

  The boy’s eyes welled with tears, but he did his best to appear tough. “Fine,” he muttered.

  Gian was his half-brother and the only other child of their mother, Alice. He was second in line to the Veres throne. Even more, Gian’s father was the leader of House Gale. The boy was inheriting power; another Veres might have been wary to have such a sibling, but all Stryga felt towards the child was love.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she crouched down and extended her pinky. “You behave well and attend your classes while I’m gone and when I get back, we’ll meet up here under this tree. I’ll take you to that favorite bakery you love so much and we’ll get all the cake we can eat.”

  Gian’s eyes went wide, his mouth practically salivating at the thought. “Promise!?”

  She grabbed his small hand and wrapped her pinky around his own. “Pinky promise. So, do we have a deal?”

  “Deal!”

  “Okay, then. I’ll see you later.” She ruffled his hair and walked away.

  “See you later!” Her little brother waved at her back as she disappeared through the gardens.

  “Are the horses ready?” asked Stryga.

  “Yes, they are—” Gwyn looked up and saw the tears in Stryga’s eyes. “Are you sure about this? Only the two of us? There are more horses.”

  “No, just us is fine. The fewer people the faster we’ll get there.”

  “We could always get a few Yellow mages to fly us across the Valley.”

  “There are none left here strong enough to make it that far in a single trip, let alone any who could carry us at the same time. No,” Stryga shook her head. “This will do. It has to.”

~~~

  “Stryg… Stryg… STRYG!”

  Someone was shaking him. Stryg opened his eyes blearily and looked around. He was lying on the wooden floor, several faces staring down at him worriedly.

  “Oh, thank the gods, he’s awake,” Gale sighed, the tension slipping from her voice.

  Stryg glanced down at the book clenched in his grasp. He was in Stryga’s memories, he could still feel the connection between her mind within the book and his own mind. He had barely scratched the surface of what she had imprinted on its pages.

  “Kid, you’re crying,” noted Jahn.

  Slowly, Stryg reached up and touched his cheeks. They were wet.

  A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and helped him to his feet. “Can you stand?” asked Gian.

  Stryg stared at the old vampire’s hands, then looked up and studied his features. Gone was the child’s button nose; His nose was long and straight. The salt and pepper beard was cut short, well-oiled and groomed. He had crow’s feet and deep set lines on his forehead. But his scarlet eyes were the same.

  “Stryg?” Gian asked uncertainly. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m sorry, Gigi. I’m sorry,” he whispered.