It was quiet on the plateau. Even the wind was soft. Kaytel stared at the ring-wielder’s seated back for some time. The red sun set, and the light sky became as black as sackcloth. Kaytel got off her helmet and stood. She wondered just how long this was going to take. The Light-Bringer, the holder of the Mantle, remained still in her seated position.

Kaytel circled her, hoping to get a better look at the face. A slow wind fanned the redhead’s hair upward, but the body remained still. Facing her now, with the cliff edge at her back, Kaytel saw the ring-wielder’s eyes were shut tight.

“Light-Bringer…?” Kaytel whispered and took a single step forward. The Mantle holder’s eyes shot open, and they were a pale yellow. Her body followed suit and came to life, leaping to their feet.

“Oh dear, this does feel weird—Roxanne will mention it every chance she gets…” The ring-wielder studied their hands and flexed their fingers repeatedly.

“…Azonne?” Kaytel squinted as if that would make any difference. Azonne/Roxanne spun round to meet her gaze with all the grace of a lumbering ox. She grinned, all toothy and wide, before moving her joints around like she was testing them. It struck Kaytel as something of a nervous tic.

“Yes, uh, sorry,” Azonne stammered. “We haven’t done this before.”

Kaytel said nothing. Instead, she folded her arms and watched the Light-Bringer get used to the body. She’s surprised that she felt disappointment. Kaytel was unsure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. Not seeing Azonne’s face made this less emotional—which, potentially, was for the best. She wasn’t sure; her thoughts were opaque.

“I am fine now,” Azonne said. She fiddled with her hands and fingers, another nervous tic. Silence hung between them. Kaytel hardly moved save for unfolding her arms and placing her hands on either hip. Azonne, by contrast, was all micro-movements. A tug on the hair, a chin scratch, grabbing hold of the elbow; Kaytel became acutely aware of each one.

“So, what happened to our home?” She asked. She was having trouble being sympathetic because it wasn’t Azonne’s face. She doesn’t know why she thought it would be, but she did. Kaytel asked herself if this was a mistake.

“What did I do to you?”

“Excuse me?” Kaytel hadn’t expected a question back. Maybe she should have. Azonne opened their mouth as if to speak but stopped, then repeated it all over again. Kaytel began to grow frustrated.

“What are you talking about? You know what you did,” she hissed. Azonne seemed to shrink at this outburst, forcing Kaytel to step back. This wasn’t what she wanted. She rested her head against her palm, attempting to gather her thoughts.

“You know,” Azonne uttered. “I used to think that day at the ceremony was the first time we ever spoke?”

“…what?” Whatever thoughts Kaytel had gathered blew away like so much dust.

Azonne sighed heavily. She sat cross-legged on the floor, and her hand reached their chin. Fingers curled into a tight, firm fist as if grasping for the physical words. The index finger stretched outwards, leaning against the cheekbone with a delicate touch, hovering near the lips. Kaytel took a moment herself before joining Azonne on the floor across from her.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Kaytel said. “We attended Early School with you.”

Azonne shrugged, “My early memories are incomplete. They exist as flashes and snippets of a time I don’t recognize. One unlocked for me when I saw your face…”

“‘Unlocked’?”

Azonne blushed, “Um, so to speak.”

“I don’t understand. What does this have to do with our planet dying?”

“A lot, it turns out,” Azonne spat. “You wanted the story, right? Well, it starts at the beginning—when we were children.”

“Okay,” Kaytel nodded and leaned back. “I’m listening.”

“When I was a child, the Nameless bonded with me. It told me it loved me and would protect me; I was little, so I assume that is why I believed it. That is one thing that has become unequivocal: I believed it.”

“But why-”

“Why did it pick me? Aside from the sneaking suspicion that it knew I would be chosen to wield the Cyntaff, I do not know.”

“No,” Kaytel shook her head. “Why do you assume?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“They wiped my memories, so I don't rightly know how I felt or thought back then.”

“The-the Protectorate?!”

“No, my predecessor did, though I’ve gathered they approved and helped me re-assimilate after.”

“D’Grav—sacred light warrior—erased your memories? I have a hard time believing that.”

“Trust me, so did I,” Azonne paused. She appeared to deliberately select her following words. She told Kaytel how her time serving went from the day of the ceremony to the final days of Ganlomb. Azonne spoke of how corruption sprung up everywhere she went, forcing her to kill every infection she encountered.

How, sometimes, that meant she needed to mow down thousands at a time.

Azonne recalled vividly the shame and helplessness she felt, thinking it was because she was a terrible fit for the job, often convincing herself she shouldn’t have been chosen. She told Kaytel that her words from the ceremony often echoed in her mind in the face of these feelings.

Kaytel's face betrayed nothing when she heard this. In fact, it remained dispassionate as the story went on. Many thoughts, ideas, and emotions crossed her mind as Azonne spoke, but Kaytel would push them aside in the name of being attentive. She did not want stray thoughts forcing her to miss any information. Eventually, Azonne paused, and another set of silence came between them.

Kaytel stared at the ground for untold seconds until, finally:

“So, you brought it in.”

“I…,” Azonne lifted her head briefly but quickly brought it back down. “…you’re right. That’s what happened; I brought it home.”

Tears welled up under both of their eyes. Azonne was the first to turn away. She took moments more to compose herself while Kaytel continued the silence and studied the Light-Bringer’s movements. She recognized bits of the young girl from the ceremony. Azonne spoke up further before Kaytel could process that. She was finally told about the fall of Ganlomb.

All the fighting.

The death.

The screams.

The infectious sludge.

Kaytel stared into Azonne’s pale yellow eyes while she told the tale and saw so much pain. She saw that those words were the most challenging things Azonne had ever had to say. She found herself lost inside those big eyes and pained body language. Eventually, Azonne reached the present in her story and stopped speaking. Kaytel realized her heart had been beating the entire time. She stood suddenly to walk it off.

Her arms and legs felt restless. She wasn’t sure if the Light-Bringer was watching her; she didn’t care. She paced rapidly because she felt overloaded. Was that really it? Was that how their world ended? Their species?

“I’m sorry,” Azonne’s voice floated in and snapped Kaytel out of it. “I wish things happened differently. D’Grav and C’iad often told me that everything happened for a reason, and I should find comfort in that.”

Kaytel watched Azonne pause briefly, then smile. It upset her, but she refused to show it, partly because of how much else she had to process.

“My successor—Roxanne—she doesn’t believe in any of that,” Azonne pushed air out of her nose as if she wanted to laugh but thought better of it. “I suppose that’s why the Balance is broken.”

“It’s broken?” Kaytel furrowed her brow at this news; things just continued getting worse. Azonne nodded but chose not to elaborate further. Kaytel brought her hand to her lips, considering what to do next.

“And you really do not remember your childhood?”

Azonne nodded half-heartedly. She looked tired suddenly as if controlling the body was too much.

“Just bits and pieces, like I said.”

“And you want to know?” Kaytel asked. Azonne nodded emphatically. “You said seeing me triggered a lost memory?”

“Yes.”

“What if I said: It had just finished raining a few hours ago, and you and a friend—a black rabbit—were by a large black tree?”

*

Azonne’s eyes went wide. She felt her grip slipping on the proverbial controls she had of Roxanne’s body. She gripped them tightly, but instantly traveled inside her mind and stood inside a torrent of memories. Azonne saw the first time she met D’Grav, the ceremony in which she was given the mantle, and the day she met Roxanne. Those eventually melted away, and she saw a day she did not recognize.

She was on the meadow outside the school. The grass was still damp. Moist purple leaves fell from tree branches and landed on little Azonne’s head. She giggled and peeled a few off her hair while watching her blobby friend dance. The inky-black creature morphed into various shapes and contraptions, each sillier than the last. Little Azonne snickered to herself silently when the beast would change if only to keep others from hearing her.

Three distinct voices float in on her side of the tree. Little Azonne pressed herself against the trunk and peeked over the edge. Behind her, the creature briefly became an oily sphere before finally shifting into a small-eared rabbit with button-like white eyes. Azonne saw three other girls whispering to each other; was it about her?

“Are those them?” Said the tar-colored rabbit.

“…Yes.”

“Call them over.”

“But why? They’re always mean, call me Low-City scum.”

“Because they haven’t met me yet. I know they’d be nicer if they knew we were friends, love.”

Little Azonne found the words reasonable and stepped out from behind the tree. The three girls noticed her immediately and stopped their passive-aggressive whispering.

“What do you want, loser?” The lead one said, obviously now to Azonne, that it was Kaytel.

“I-I thought you might like to meet my friend?” Little Azonne stammered and stepped aside to let her tar-colored friend the spotlight. It morphed and warbled to make the girls laugh like Azonne. Instead, they were disgusted.

“What the hell is that?!” The little Voxin screamed. It upset little Azonne. The tar-colored rabbit stopped warbling long enough to spit black sludge at her face. It sizzled against her skin, and she screamed. Kaytel froze in fear while Alnan attempted to shove little Azonne. Still angry, little Azonne grabbed her by her head and pushed her to the ground. The tar-colored rabbit spit black gunk at Alnan, too, but only connected with her arm.

Still, she screamed in pain, as well.

“Look what you did!!!” Little Azonne shouted with more fury than thought possible from her small frame. “You upset my friend!” Kaytel stepped forward and shoved little Azonne to the ground.

“You hurt Altan and Voxin, you freak!” she shouted. “We’re not playing with you or that dumb rabbit! We’re telling!”

The group of girls ran off. Little Azonne sat crying and clutching at the purple grass. Behind the tree warbled the tar-colored rabbit. Further beyond that, older Azonne stood watching, horrified.