“C’mon, you gotta keep up,” Lynn taunted, bouncing from foot to foot. Astrid’s long, pointed ears glowed red in embarrassment as she pulled herself from the ground, picking up the swords that had flown from her hands. She let out a huff of annoyance and spun the weapons in front of her before lowering them to her sides. Her back still stung from where she had been hit.
“Maybe try a little this time, ‘kay?” Lynn teased, settling into a fencing position and dulling his rapier with magic again, a wide grin plastered on his face. This asshole, Astrid thought before dulling her blades and moving to strike. The first overhead swing from her right sword was blocked with expert precision by Lynn, but he was forced to dodge her follow-up to his side with her left.
She continued her assault, each of her attacks being swatted away or completely missing. Lynn was on a whole different level than her, but she’d be damned if she let that stop her. Each consecutive swing from her blades sliced through the air, whistling as they went.
Lynn hopped back a few steps, his jovial expression now serious. There's a quick beat of silent tension when suddenly with one single, forceful step, Lynn appeared right in front of Astrid’s face, his piercing gaze almost as alarming as his sudden burst of speed. Astrid swerved to the side with no time to spare as his weapon thrust forth, narrowly missing her chest. Lynn’s eyes widened at her evasion, and a smile spread across his face as Astrid moved to retaliate.
Her first strike connected solidly with the back of Lynn’s leg, causing it to buckle as she followed up with an attack aimed at his mid-back. Lynn barely managed to roll out of the way, springing into the air and spinning before landing deftly on the grass. Astrid moved to attack yet again, but stopped when Lynn lowered his guard completely.
The hairs on Astrid's neck stood straight as she felt the wind around her convulse, and she spun, shutting her eyes tight on reflex as she brought her swords up in front of her to block whatever attack was coming her way. A sharp sound of shredding metal pierced the air, and Astrid felt a trickle of blood run down her forehead as she opened her eyes, only to see Lynn’s rapier pierced through her two swords, the tip resting on her forehead.
“I think that’s enough for today. With where you’re at now, I highly doubt any one of those cultists could lay a finger on you,” Lynn commended. Astrid fell to the ground, exhausted and still shaken by her near-death experience. “Y-you could’ve killed me,” she panted out, looking in awe between her tutor and the skewered weapons.
“Nah, the king and queen would’ve been pissed if I did. Plus I’dve lost my favorite drinking buddy,” Lynn said as he grabbed the lithe woman by the arm and hoisted her up. Astrid’s legs felt like jelly, so she leaned against Lynn for support. The Elf laughed and ruffled her long, silver hair, smiling at her. “I won’t always be here to help you stand. Especially on the field.”
Astrid pushed herself off of Lynn, trying and failing to walk on her own, but he caught her again. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t try,” Lynn said, his smile taking on a much more comforting air that, for some strange reason, made it harder for Astrid to stand. “So, whaddya say, your highness? You wanna go grab a few drinks to celebrate your progress?”
The air in the Capital City of Yenneth was humid and chilly, but refreshing nonetheless. The city’s main goal was to provide a place where humans and elves could live together, and it worked for the most part. Merging the royal armies was the most controversial choice. Humans didn't think that elves were ‘worthy’ of serving their royal families, and likewise for the Elves. The situation resolved itself after enough time, though there were still some naysayers who would try and force their views down everyone's throat.
Astrid had only recently enlisted in the Moth division of the royal army, the division solely set on hunting and extinguishing any sparks of the cult of Svarog that would flare up. Even thinking the name of that false god left a bitter taste in her mouth.
The Moths had been the most renowned division of the royal army, but in recent years the cult of Svarog had all but fizzled out, and so had the usefulness of the division. That was one of the reasons her parents had let her enlist in the first place. They weren’t exactly strict, but they still didn’t enjoy the thought of their only daughter rushing headfirst into battle.
That changed when the Moths were alerted to the re-emergence of one of the cultists. Someone who was involved in the most horrific event in the Moth’s history. After that, Astrid’s training regimen became significantly more intense; it seemed like whoever this guy was, he was a problem. “Copper for your thoughts?” Lynn inquired, startling Astrid back to reality.
“Oh-, uh, nothing really. Sorry,” Astrid said with a dismissive wave of her hand, gaining a pout from Lynn. “You’re no fun,” he said with a huff, getting silenced by a sharp jab from Astrid’s elbow.
“Still no news on that cultist, huh?” Astrid asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the two. Lynn responded with a solemn shake of his head.
“Let's not focus on that right now, though. Which tavern do you wanna hit?” Lynn questioned, his eyes alight with an excitement that Astrid was happy to see again. After some less-than-careful deliberation, she pointed to the Inn where the two had initially met. Lynn’s grin grew wider and he nodded enthusiastically, practically dragging Astrid through the doors.
Time flew by as the two drank, talking about their personal lives outside of the constant training. They had known each other for a few years before Astrid enlisted, in fact, it was because of Lynn that she wanted to. Of course, she had a personal grudge against the cult, most people did, but she joined because she hadn’t ever met someone who would treat her like an actual living person instead of some shiny trophy that they had to keep constantly polished and unblemished.
However, that quality of his got a little annoying sometimes, she reminded herself, rubbing the red mark on her forehead where Lynn had just flicked her. “God, you’re just in a world of your own today. You sure nothing's up?” Lynn asked, genuine concern in his voice. “Yeah, just… reminiscing,” Astrid responded, a smile playing at the corners of her lips at the worries of her friend. He rarely showed this side of him, but it always made Astrid feel happy, in a way.
Lynn’s cheeks grew brighter and brighter as the night went on, downing mug after mug of whatever he could get his hands on. This time it was Astrid’s turn to be worried. She had never seen Lynn let himself get so drunk before; he usually called it a night after he got even slightly buzzed.
After an hour had passed with Lynn showing no signs of stopping, Astrid decided to call it a night for him. “The hell has gotten into you? You’re completely wasted,” Astrid chastised as she half-carried Lynn through the door. “This might be the last day I have left, might as well find out what it’s like,” Lynn slurred, the words making Astrid stop just inside the room she had bought the two of them for the night.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“What?” she asked, her voice cold and laced with fear from the near-casual way Lynn had suggested his death. “We’re going after the cultist tomorrow. I received word that we’d located his position about three hours ago,” Lynn answered, legs shaking. “But why would that mean our death? He’s just one man, we’ll have an army,” Astrid asked apprehensively, almost afraid of the answer. Lynn shook his head.
“You weren't there. Something that cultist did made everyone kneel to him. I still don’t know how I made it out. I’ll never get those sounds out of my head.” Lynn said, his eyes glossed over and voice distant. Astrid reached out a cautious hand, and her touch jolted Lynn back to reality, sending him collapsing onto his hands and knees, tears pouring freely down his face. Astrid knelt beside Lynn, hesitantly wrapping an arm around him.
“The slamming. The squelching. The sounds of their skulls breaking open as they slammed their heads into the marble floor over, and over, and over, laughing all the while. Their laughs devolving into gurgling. And finally, silence. All sound left the world at that moment. I don’t know why I was spared, if I was spared. Living with the memories of my brothers and sisters all bashing in their own skulls is worse than any death that bastard could’ve given me.”
The False Moon. Astrid had known that horrors had taken place on that day, but she never knew the specifics, much less had she known that Lynn had been there. Her voice was caught in her throat, and she had to choke back a gasp as Lynn looked back up from the ground, his eyes alight with fury unchecked.
“I’m going to find him, and if he doesn’t come quietly I’m going to make him feel what I’ve felt. I’m going to make him beg. I’ll kill everyone he holds dear. And once I’m done with them, I’ll take that damned Prophet’s head myself.”
° ° °
The Prophet ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek and spat out blood, never letting Grayson see his pain. He glared up at the commander, who was looking at his fist with disbelief in his eyes. “And now we’re here, huh?” the Prophet scoffed. “Maybe it’s better this way. Keeps the bonds from healing,” he said, a pang of guilt hitting him as the words fell from his mouth, but like the rest of the raging monsoon of emotions welling in his chest, he locked it away.
Grayson wanted to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to, even as the Prophet turned and walked nonchalantly out of the tent. The damage was done. There was nothing to be done about it. Grayson sighed and sat, nestling his face into his palms when Huojin walked in. “What,” Grayson barked out, not exactly in the mood to continue their argument.
“Saw Prophet walking away with blood on his chin. Figured it didn’t go so well, so I thought I might as well try and comfort someone who has even a sliver of a chance to accept it,” Huojin responded, sitting next to Grayson and kicking his feet up onto the table that sat in front of them. Grayson glanced up, meeting eyes with Huojin and seeing the genuine expression of worry and regret on his face. Grayson sighed and sat up.
“So, how long have you known the Prophet,” Huojin enquired, gaining a raised brow from Grayson before he let out a soft chuckle and settled down into his chair. “Since we were kids. He’s changed a lot since I knew him, though,” Grayson said, closing his eyes and fully immersing himself in his memories. “Always been curious about his past. Never really talks about it,” Huojin prodded, giving his full attention to Grayson who laughed again. “Well settle in. There’s a lot to talk about.”
The night air was frigid, and the wind whistled past the Prophet as he walked away from the outpost, coming to a stop at the top of the tallest hill he could find. His cloak whipped around him, rendering it mostly useless for protecting him from the cold, but it still kept him warm. It was one of the few things he had since before the cult had taken him.
He let out a heavy sigh, his breath puffing out in clouds as he flopped onto the damp grass, staring at the stars overhead. He brought his arms up under his head and closed his eyes, only opening them again when he heard light footsteps approaching. “Figured I’d find you here, Cinris,” a familiar voice cooed. The Prophet clenched his teeth, closing his eyes again as he bit back the emotions already bubbling in his chest.
“Hey, Vale,” he responded in a weak voice, failing to repress the once-dormant emotions from welling up in his throat. He felt the grass shift as Vale sat next to him before laying down, too. “I guess some things never change, do they? I remember doing this almost every night with you back when we were, what, thirteen?” she said with a soft laugh that burrowed into Cinris’ mind like a knife.
Silence passed between the two, the only sound breaking it being the wind. Cinris could tell Vale had something to say, a question that had been lingering on her mind since he had turned up. “Why?” Vale asked, breaking the silence with a weak and cracking voice. “Why what?” Cinris responded. There was too much to explain. Too much he wasn’t ready to explain. But he needed to try.
“Why to all of it! Why did you fake your death? Why did you choose to abandon us? Why did you go off with that cult? J-just… why?” Vale cried out, pulling herself upright with tears running down her face. Cinris sat up slowly, coming face to face with her for the first time in eight years. Her face was exactly how he remembered it, with her brows almost permanently furrowed in a look of concern.
“Vale, I-” he started, wincing as Vale cut him off. “No! No more excuses, no more lies! What the hell did I do to deserve this?!” she shouted, more tears building in the corners of her eyes. Cinris opened his mouth, more excuses ready to keep him from getting attached again, but he stopped. His hand balled into a fist at his side. “Please don't make me talk about this. Not yet. Not here,” Cinris pleaded, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “You deserve answers. I know. But I don't know if I can give them. I've tried so hard to forget what they did. Just… please,” Cinris said, pulling up clumps of grass subconsciously.
“Then why didn't you ever try to contact me or Grayson? And why would you attack us when we arrived at the church?” Vale asked, her resentment towards Cinris bubbling down into confusion and concern.
Vale regretted asking immediately after she did as Cinris struggled to find the words. “Cinris, wait, no, you don't have to-” she stopped as Cinris held up his hand. “No. I owe you this much at least,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“I tried to leave. I did. But every time they would drag me back. The world is harsh, and they offered shelter. And every time I ended up back there, they would force me to do whatever they wanted. I wasn't even in control of my own body when I was in that damned place.” Vale reached out to Cinris in an attempt to comfort him, but he flinched away from the touch.
“When you and Grayson arrived and raided the place, I was forced to fight you. I almost killed you both. After that, I thought… I thought you would hate me.” Cinris’ voice was hollow, devoid of any outwardly expressed emotion. His hand reached up and ran along his chest, tracing the detailed runes woven with a knife onto his skin. He opened his mouth to continue but found his words caught in his throat. Tears that he hadn’t been aware of until just this moment streamed down his face, splashing onto his arm.
A pair of soft but strong arms worked themselves around Cinris, pulling him into a tight embrace. Time seemed to stop as he looked at Vale, who had buried her face into his neck. Her tears felt like molten steel as they fell onto his cold skin, and his arms shook in front of him, wanting so desperately to wrap his arms around her in kind. “I could never bring myself to hate you, no matter how hard I tried,” Vale choked out, still nestled into Cinris’ neck.
She pulled back and looked him in the eyes, eyes that were filled with fear. Fear of becoming attached again. Fear of losing it all again. Fear of losing her again. “I still love you. I always have.” She said, letting her fears go as she gazed into Cinris’ azure eyes, and she watched him do the same as he finally reciprocated the act of affection.
“G-god damn it…” she heard him mumble, before he broke down completely, slumping into her arms as his cries tore out in the night, the walls the Prophet had spent so long building up around his mentality being torn down by the torrent of emotions pouring from Cinris.
🜎