MERKUS:

The usual cluster of students had evaporated and condensed into a few isolated groups who availed themselves of the academy’s outdoor facilities, each busy delving further into what divided them. The Roots, who made up the majority of students, had long since left, their duties encompassing more than the need to better themselves—their aid was as paramount to the upkeep and progression of their family’s wealth and status as their progression in their Arts was. Left behind were the godlings, members of the lower houses who had failed to show enough promise to warrant instruction from their families.

The garden, crammed beside the apothecary, was occupied by House Silas hopefuls: a self-destructive group of intoxicated Alchemists who lounged on beds of luscious grass. Metal rang rhythmically as prospective Aedificators of House Grono hammered away in their outdoor laboratory, billowing clouds drifting into the sky from the forges behind the apothecary. The dueling arena, a small platform built of stone and overlayed by a complex weave of matrixes, kept House Banian, all their boorish proclivities utilized with fervent and often violent enthusiasm. These simpletons competed against each other with feats of physical prowess, some lifting weights, some wrestling, and some brawling. House Lorail and the smaller House of Manar crowded around the pedestal of mind, watching a miniature duel between imaginary fire and ice. A young girl wearing the blue crest of Lorail upon the upper half of her sleeve, marking her as a godling, sucked the sensus out of her opponent's fire. The boy she competed against staggered back from the control matrix, laughter welcoming his failure.

I hugged the outer walls, my contentment diminished by their existence. Nothing irritates the old and shrewd like the inanity of misled youth. And here, amongst these infants, I felt ancient.

I caught a glimpse of Aki when I walked past the academy’s threshold. It was strange to see him in The Bark so late. Stranger still was the soldier holding his invisible leash.

“Aki!” I called after him. He glanced back but continued on his way. I ran to catch up.

The soldier cut in front of me, blocking my approach. “Move on.”

I looked her over. Her fiery hair was short and impressively bold, her frame broad about the shoulders and narrow about the hips. Only her face remained attractive, as though her beauty had retreated and staked its territory there, abandoning the rest to her brutish pursuits. All in all, she did not seem a credible threat. Well, I knew she was a Heartwood, possibly even a Branch, but…

“May I ask where you're taking my friend?” I spared a look around as I spoke, finding we were alone. Good, I thought. The academy was thankfully away from main roads and deep within a residential area, escaping the bustle of more well-traveled regions.

“You are of The Heartwood?” she asked.

“An astute guess,” I said, nodding; I’d always preferred the practical clothes of The Bark to the ornamental folds favored by those of The Heartwood.

“Then know I am of The Branches.” I knew her words to be true. Only a Branch would say them as though it was reason enough for any and all actions. And why not? Since ascended Roots had to vacate The Branches the moment they retired from service, her proclamation intended to inform me that she was acting upon her duties.

Aki remained behind her, cowed. He was outwardly calm, but the slight strain on his blank expression was apparent. He had made an art of projecting indifference. I liked him too well not to see the canvas below.

“Evening, Aki,” I said. “Where are you off to this fine evening?”

Aki glanced at the soldier. “To—”

She attacked. Her open palm struck my chest and compelled me to step back. My left foot crashed down behind me, the force so great that my knee nearly buckled. I ignored the injury. A weight settled on my mind, distorting my thoughts. Pressure wormed around my head, slithering, threatening to rid me of my eyes and create space for itself inside my skull. I clawed at the sensus to no avail. My sight blurred.

The mask. My mask. It held me back. Only a little over seventeen years had passed since its creation. I’d styled the disguise with a particular purpose: formidable talent. Not abundant. Formidable. Not skillful. Talented. Now, the very limitations I had set to protect myself sought to do me harm.

No choice. I perforated the mask. My true soul, cooped up and cramped as it was, tried to gush out in a torrent. It took all of me to stop it from tearing the mask asunder. A single drop of that sensus, unprocessed and unfiltered by my mask, would lead to my being discovered. That would not do.

In control once more, I let my sensus leak a trickle. What remainder of my crippled mask was enough to change its signature but not its original appearance. Like curdled milk the color of ink, it slunk down my streams, through my pores, and over my skin, obliterating the soldier’s pesky sensus. To her credit, my opponent recovered quickly, jumping back and assuming a defensive stance.

Aki crept back, knowing the coming battle was beyond his current abilities. He offered me a wordless apology when I spared him a glance. I winked and hoped it would waylay his guilt. There was no need to apologize; I was having fun. So long had it been since I had feasted, ages since my true self could partake in the sweetness of a true battle.

“Who are you?” The soldier’s face was stiff with wary confidence. All who served my sister were skilled in concealing their emotions—a necessity if they were to survive their service.

“A friend of what appears to be your prisoner.” My tone sounded different. Deeper. More guttural. More like the me behind the mask.

“I am Rowan, an ascended proffered the Name of ‘Orchid Blossom’ and the chief of House Lorail’s outer guard,” she said. Aki gasped at her declaration. “I demand you answer my question and tell me by what right you stand against an order of a god.” Pride filled her eyes. She knew not the emptiness of her authority.

“I’m going to have to kill you,” I said. The words came less playful than I’d intended. My authentic voice, unaltered by my mask, had always been more suitable for promises than for jests.

She forced a smile. “You are welcome to try.”

I shook my head. “Your arrogance knows no bounds. Either you have seen my secret and overestimated your strength, or you did not care to look and have underestimated mine. Whatever the case, you will die this night.”

Her eyes glimmered with sensight, a talent that let one see the emanations of sensus and one I knew she possessed—such a basic and essential ability was mandatory for a person of her station. Fear exploded from her soul the exact moment she saw me. The real me. The me leaking past the broken remnants of my mask. It’s a beautiful thing to see conceit shatter into horror. Delectable, too, the fragrance so appetizing as to mesmerize.

“Im-im-impossible,” she said, eyes wide.

Fear wafted from her soul. The sweet, intoxicating smell had me whistling a tune I hadn’t whistled for a lifetime, the melody slow and melancholic, like the soft moans of grief or the first murmurs of death. And when she heard the song of her ruination, she doubted no more.

She knew who I was.

Crude and brutish, my attack was a simple materialization of Zephyr Arts—the power of force and wind and fire. It was the former of those three I used, my method a show dominance rather than skill. Rowan covered her ears. It did her no good. I smothered her screams and shoved them back down her throat. My power, black and thick like tar, slid over her mouth and nose, squirming ever deeper. Soon, she’d fallen to her knees, arms limp and head slumped back. I penetrated her eyes then, and her death came and went without a sound. Disbelief remained on her features even as her hollow eyes cried tears of blood, even as she toppled forward and struck the ground, empty and soulless.

“I knew there was something about you,” a familiar voice said.

I twisted towards the voice. She moved too quickly. A blur—no, illusions. Her presence was like a breeze: changing form, disappearing, reappearing, and growing more elusive. My eyes chased her, catching afterimages of her between mirages of herself, her movements a wonder of grace, ephemeral, body flittering from one spot to another as if the sway of each limb disregarded time and space. I strained my eyes to keep her in sight.

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I was too careless. She got to Aki. I saw the attack when, belatedly and at great cost to my mask, I gazed upon her with soulsight—a superior version of sensight exclusive to gods. Her construct was glorious: A mass of sensus as crude in methodology as it was sophisticated in application curled about Aki in a whirlwind of movement, sharp spikes and curved hooks furling around him in a prison that brooked no escape. I flung myself towards him. Complex as her construct was, her skills were no match for mine. A counteractive influx of sensus shattered the spikes and hooks into motes of light and scattered them into nothingness.

I got to Aki. Once I knew he was safe and uninjured, I checked for her. Only wisps of evanescent illusions remained of her. The street was empty. She’d escaped. I might’ve caught her if I let my soulsight remain open, but the risk of being discovered was too great.

Damn, my mask!

I almost snorted at the thought. It felt like the pathetic justification of an incompetent man. This was my fault. The first taste of fear I had for two decades had distracted me and made me complacent. Or perhaps the sharpness I’d honed in centuries of war had dulled in my time away. Whatever the case, few had ever escaped my grasp. Leahne could now count herself among their number. The zealous academy assessor had glimpsed my secret and survived.

An aroma pulled at my attention. I reacted without thought, fueled by my recent failure. The distance to the source dwindled. In a blink, I was at the entrance to the academy, blood pumping, senses sharpened, a thirst for violence I had not felt for nearly a century pounding at my will.

The rotund girl wore a purple robe with white threading. Corine, I think, of House Silas. A wooden pipe hung between her painted lips. The intoxicant she burned invaded my lungs, the cloud of smoke disturbed by my sudden appearance. Slowly, the smoke grew unstable, dissipating and losing shape. With it, my bloodlust diluted into a less ominous form of yearning, more hunger than starvation, more want than need.

Motion crawled back to the world. My mask stretched. Black spots blotted my vision. I tried to blink them away. Blood in my ears interfered with my balance. I swayed. The taste of metal filled my mouth. I forced a swallow. My mask was on the brink, begging to rejoin the whole from which it had so long been separated.

Corine and five others watched me, my sudden appearance clogging their thoughts. I looked back at them, enduring the onslaught of sensations.

A hand fell on my shoulder. I twisted. Aki’s voice reached me in time to stop me from separating his head from his neck.

“Merk, we’ve got to go,” he said. The apology in his eyes had grown; he’d underestimated the consequences of his actions, the strength of the opponent he’d pushed at me.

“To mine,” I said.

“Not until you’re punished,” one of the students said. If you’d asked me, I’d have told you I’d never met the fellow despite knowing I must’ve. It mattered little. The sliver of sensus I held in my hand found a new use. The boy slumped to the ground. Blood poured from the deep cut across his chest. He lay there, close enough to death to kiss it.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Corine stared at the boy, wide-eyed. A plain girl with bronze hair shrieked. The other three scurried back into the academy grounds in an uncoordinated fit of panic. That’s House Silas for you: a scholarly, spineless bunch.

I ran as fast as my condition allowed. That Aki kept up with me was a bad sign; to match me spoke volumes of my state. I didn’t look back as we ran. The students would not dare follow, and no one they told would rush to face Addy. It’d be several turns before someone with the authority to question her was notified, then another turn for them to assess if they were brave enough for the task. Eventually, I knew a godling of sufficient competence would be sent, but we had some time before that came to pass.

Aki kept pace. To be honest, it was not long before he inched ahead and set it. Barely sixteen cycles and there was no panic in the boy. I had just killed a head guard of one of the principal Houses, attacked a master of the academy, and severely wounded a fellow student with a higher standing, yet he hadn’t crumpled under the severity of it all.

Gods, I liked the boy.

The Bark was dark. Aki would say otherwise, given where he lived, but the local residents would agree. Soldiers walked the streets, most of them mildly inebriated. The Bark was their home. Besides those who’d earned a Name and had chosen to ascend to The Branches, the most formidable and most prosperous Roots lived here. Ale and whorehouses were common but rarely lacked business, least of all in the canopy of night. Belligerent soldiers, rambunctious merchants, loud musicians, and cheap whores—men and women, both—bathed the area in activity, sheltering Aki and me as we traveled the cobbled streets unseen. Then we came upon my home, a three-story building on the outskirts of The Heartwood—a region of The Bark inhabited by retired Named and high-ranking Barks.

Addy was heading down the stairs towards us when I opened the door. She carried an expensive broadsword, the ivory handle wrapped in rough, black leather of an evolved beast. The woman had her fair share of peculiar interests. Being far more partial towards daggers and other such shorter variants, she hated using longswords yet found them worthy of collecting—an impractical notion if ever I’d seen one.

“Another sitting?” Addy glimpsed the slight figure hidden behind me. “And a guest?”

I brushed past her without a word.

“And not even a greeting,” she said.

“Stop,” I said, turning to her. My cold expression told her the rest. Addy’s smile flattened.

“Lord?” she asked, suddenly deferential.

“Yes,” I said curtly.

“It’s early.”

“It is.”

“Why?”

I frowned. “Is it that we have been wearing our disguises for so long that you find it difficult to take yours off?”

“My apologies,” she said, inclining her head.

“Come, we have much to discuss.” I continued up the stairs. “You too, Aki.”

We settled into the library for the ample space, padded seating, and the sequestering properties of the books that covered the walls. It was also the only room with matrix lanterns—flameless torches more luminous and less dangerous than their mundane alternatives. I sat at Farian’s large desk at the back of the room. Aki and Helena sat across me.

“Where’s Farian?” I asked Addy.

“Yet to return.”

“When he does…”

“Lord?”

“He’s not exactly a… good man, but better than most. I do not fault you for seeking the union. However, it is time he is told the truth. You know what to do if the truth alters his allegiances.”

Addy winced.

“And control yourself, Helena,” I said.

Addy took hold of her shoulder-length hair and pulled it back, knotting it into a tight ball. All of a sudden, she was gone, and there sat Helena, posture straighter than a blade, eyes harder than diamonds.

“Good,” I said, noticing the shift. “Now, where is he?”

“Here,” she answered.

I sighed. “Do not be vague, Helena. Where is he?”

“Sitting beside me.”

My eyes widened a fraction. Helena jumped. Her chair flew back, spun on one leg across half the length of the room, and cracked against a bookcase, knocking down several books before clattering to the floor.

My gaze shifted to Aki. I saw him anew. He sat stunned but quiet, taking everything in. He was a clever bastard. Patient, too. Some of why I liked him. Some of why I had not suspected.

I composed myself and waved at Helena to return to her seat. She read my surprise as anger, proof that Addy had retreated—for now.

Aki ruffled the back of his head. I held up a hand before he could voice his growing questions.

“Soon, Aki,” I said before turning to my assassin. “The Muds, Helena?”

“You had not specified any particulars in regards to location, Lord,” she said, hints of a smile hiding at the corners of her lips. “I assumed you’d left it to my discretion.”

“And the academy?”

Silence.

“Very well,” I said. “When the time comes, and he grows into himself, pray he does not find your actions punishable.” I waved her away. “Off with you. Go and wait for Farian. Come back when you’ve settled the issue of his loyalties.”

Helena stood and hurried from the room, eager to escape my displeasure. If only she knew how much more fearsome his anger was compared to mine.

I turned to Aki. He watched me with cold, calculating eyes. Similarities emerged from memories old and new, matching the sickly boy sitting before me to the impregnable man I once knew. If you accounted for the naftajar… How could I not have seen it?

“Aki.”

“Lord,” he said. I winced.

“There’s much I haven’t told you.” It was an invitation for questions. Aki refused my offer. Stubborn bastard. “Let me first say I will never lie to you. I may abstain from telling you the truth or parts of the truth, but I will never lie to you.”

“You are not Merkus Farian. Is that not a lie?”

“I am, and I am not. Suffice it to say I am as much Merkus Farian as any man thinks he is himself.”

“You were, but no longer are Merkus?”

“There are answers I am willing to disclose, but more that must remain secret. Much hangs in the balance. Giving you the entire truth will shift it away from us.”

“From us… or from you?” Aki wore the indifferent expression he reserved for those he despised, and if I was still capable of pain, I think I would’ve felt it then. “May I know to whom I speak, Lord?”

“Though it will cost me, I will tell you,” I said, my decision made. Maybe I am capable, I thought, for I could not explain what else compelled me. “Most know me as the only adopted son of The Old Queen, youngest of the gods, holder of the Eastern Gate, and slayer of The Golden King. I am most commonly known as Prince Knite.”

Aki fell to his knees. I rushed around the desk and pulled him to his feet. The boy’s reverence for royalty had always bothered me, and never more so than when he thought to direct it at me.

“We are friends,” I said. “Do not bow to me. I forbid it.”

He laughed. “You know, using the very authority you wish for me to ignore makes little sense.”

“Neither does laughing at a god.”

He laughed again, more himself. “True.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called.

Helena walked in, eyes hard and hands clenched.

“Farian,” I guessed.

She nodded. “He’s late. He’s never late.”

I turned to Aki. “We are friends, are we not?”

He was quiet for a long moment before he answered. “Yes,” he said, and I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

“Good. I have some urgent matters to attend to. We’ll speak again on the morrow. For now, take my room and rest. It’s on the top floor, the last room on the right. The pantry is in the back of the house if you have a need to quench hunger or thirst. You may eat and drink whatever you wish.”

“On the morrow?” he asked.

“By the morrow,” I said. “You have my word.”

I would keep that promise. I always kept my promises.

Always.