As soon as I stepped outside, the heat radiated against me.

A bird, silhouetted by the brilliant sunlight, flew high in the sky above.

Arthur was so involved in his cuts and slashes against the sack of shaped hay, that he did not notice me walking towards him.

He wore no shirt, only long pants and boots. Sweat dripped down off of his upraised arms when he was still and flew out in arcs when he swung the wooden sword. Every motion he made sent his muscles standing rigid against his skin. There was a memory that came drifting up in my mind. A king, a giant even in comparison to his own giant of a son. They had been bulky in the way that looked like they could pull a mountain from the ground but would struggle to scratch their own backs.

The man with the ghost in his belly did not share that stature. Arthur’s muscles were long and lean. He had been tall before his change, but that had made him lanky as a result. Every hard set line that appeared when he strained seemed like some master craftsmen had sculpted his body.

All that defined my body were the seal and my scars.

“Hey!” I said, raising my voice to get his attention.

He snapped his eyes to me just as he brought his wooden blade down towards the hayman. My distraction forced him to miss. The blade dinged against the iron pole that his target was mounted on and he dropped the sword.

“Hey, Autumn,” He grunted, rubbing his hands together with a grimace on his face. “Did you have to yell like that?”

I slipped past him and picked up the wooden sword from where it had dropped to the ground. “I want to do what you were doing. How?”

“Uhm. . .” Arthur trailed off.

“Please?” I begged, willfully puckering my bottom lip and fluttering my eyes. Begging was not beneath me if it got me what I wanted.

“Okay, step back here,” Arthur nodded and placed his big hands on my shoulders. He pulled me back and squared me with the hayman. “Put your left foot forward and turn your shoulders just a bit.”

“Like this?” I looked at him for approval.

“No, like this,” He laughed, physically adjusting my stance until he was satisfied. He guided my hands to the proper place on the handle, one at the bottom and one up high. “There you go, now hold it with your top hand even with your chest.”

I did.

He reached out and tapped the hayman on its shoulder, right where the tied sack that served as its head started. “This is where you are going to hit,” He pointed to the place that would have been the hayman’s hip if it had a lower half. “This is where you are trying to cut to. You’ve got to follow through the whole way, got it?”

Arthur barely managed to jump out of the way before my strike hit the shoulder. The wooden sword bounced out of my hands and fell back to the ground. The hayman seemed utterly unaffected by my attack and all I had gained was stinging in my hands.

“Alright, that was terrible. Are you going to try and nudge it to death?” Arthur laughed, recovering the sword.

My face grew hot and I suddenly wished to inflict great pain on my mortal friend. “Don’t laugh at me, it was my first time!”

“That doesn’t make it any better. Ma could do better than that.” He said, continuing to laugh at me after I had explicitly asked him not to.

I spun on the heels of my boots and stomped back towards the manor, needing to put as much distance between myself and Arthur as I could.

The tall man grabbed my wrist before I could make it a step. “Hold on, slow down. You can’t just do it once and quit.”

“Why did you laugh?” I demanded, spinning back around to him with my fists clenched.

“Because it was funny. Here,” He offered the handle of the wooden sword to me and flashed his usual wide smile. “Try it again, you’ll get the hang of it.”

No. Go back to bed where you belong. Go hide under the blankets and wait for your punishment.

“If you laugh at me again, I am going to hit you instead of the hayman.” I said, snatching the sword back from him.

“Don’t do that, I hate being tickled,” Arthur teased. Still guiding me with his hands, he shaped me back into the stance and adjusted my hold once again. Chuckling, he continued. “Now, the hardest part is remembering to hold onto the grip while you swing it.”

An angry smile forced its way onto my face. Despite the humor I found in his teasing, I still wanted to hurt him and make him stop.

“Fuck you.” I snapped my elbow back and tried to dig it into Arthur.

He was too strong. Against my attempts to hit him, he brought my arms up with his own.

“Look, just like this.” he said, moving me through the motion of the strike that I had failed at just a few moments before.

The blade touched the place on the hayman that would have been where its neck met its body if it had been made of flesh and bone instead of rough fabric and hay.

“See what I mean?” He asked, stepping away from me and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Yes,” I grunted. Somewhere in the compelled movement, I could feel the rough edges of how to properly slice with the sword. There was a flow, a perfect way to perform the strike, and I would not have brushed against it without his guidance. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“Good. Try it again.” Arthur said, pointing at the hayman.

“Do not tell me what to do, mortal.” I glared at him and tried to fill my voice with the same disdain my familiar managed to effortlessly speak with.

“You don’t have to sleep anymore, right? Oh wait, that’s me. I almost forgot,” Arthur said, smacking his palm against his forehead like he had genuinely forgotten. “I’m way less mortal than you are. So, do not tell me not to tell you what to do,” He snapped his fingers and pointed back at the hayman. “Try it again, slowly. Pay attention to the motion.”

“I am doing this because I want to, not because you told me to.” I insisted. Grip held, shoulder turned, foot forward, I took up the stance. Slowly, just as Arthur had said, I repeated the movement and ended with the blade on the same spot it had when he had guided me.

“Better. Again.” He said, his hands clasped behind his back.

“When did you get so demanding?” I did as he told me, moving back through the slash with a little more confidence.

“Again.” He said again.

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

I rolled my eyes and brought the wooden blade back down.

“Alright, you're ready,” Arthur said. He stepped over and placed his hand on the hayman’s head. “Really knock the shit out of it this time. Don’t forget your form, but hit it as hard as you can. I like to think about whatever is making me angry or sad or whatever, and then I take it out on the dummy. Do you think you can do that?”

“I will not have to think of anything that is making me angry as long as you keep standing there.” I answered him with playful heat in my voice.

I had plenty to be sad about, but my time with Arthur had made me feel distant from them. My words had only been partly playful. Part of me wanted to reach out and knock the wooden sword against his ribs like Springer had. It would do nothing in the long run, the spirit within the tall man would heal him in a matter of moments. What he had said about the difference between each of our mortal status had been right. I could not heal myself if my life depended on it. I could not heal another if their life depended on it. The first time my mother had ever truly asked me to anything, and I couldn’t even fucking help her.

“Hey, Autumn?” Arthur asked.

“Shut up. Go talk to your owl.” I growled. If he said one more stupid thing, I was going to hurt him. I didn’t know how I could do that to a man twice my size, but I would find a way.

“Autumn.” Arthur said again, his voice hard and serious.

I raised the wooden blade and brought it down with violence in my mind.

Light, dark red like the color of blood, flashed in my eyes. My hands were washed in it and it left trails as I swung the sword down and smashed it into the hayman.

Like little lines of lightning, red cracks splintered up the wooden blade in every direction. When they reached the tip, it exploded in a burst of blood red light.

Torn cloth, hay, and wood dust sprayed into the air. I fell down onto my ass from the force of the sword splitting, and the light around my hands began to dim.

What the fuck was that?

Arthur crouched down beside me and placed his hand on my back. “You alright?”

Weakness washed over all of me. If it had not been for his hand, I would have fallen the rest of the way to my back. My vision swam and I let out a weary sigh. The only time I had ever felt the way I did then was after I had taken a loss from using my aura.

I had used my aura.

“She didn’t take it,” I squealed, throwing my arms around Arthur’s neck and squeezing. “I still have a soul!”

“Why are you so surprised? I thought you knew how to do that already?” Arthur laughed, hugging me back with one of his long arms.

I squeezed him tighter. “Not like this, I have to go tell Anna, She’s gonna be so happy.”

My girlfriend had been right, Mother Azza had not taken my soul. My essence still burned within me and it was not alone. I had been a coward. How could I have let that moment of static pass between us? The Mother’s could do whatever they wanted to me, as long as Anna was waiting for me to return, I could take it. As soon as I could get off the ground, I was going to sprint right up the stairs and show her what she meant to me.

The light faded and my new aura fell away from my hands into blood colored dust.

“No. You broke my sword. You owe me.” Arthur said, putting space between us.

My burning desire ran cold. A scowl darkened my face and my fists clenched. I glared at the tall man, every muscle in my body tensing.

“Hey, easy,” Arthur said, holding his palms towards me in a placating gesture. “It was a joke.”

I leaned towards him until my feet were under me like a spring. Then, I kicked off and drove my shoulder into his ribs.

I didn’t move him an inch. My right fist swung wildly into his stomach and my left beat against his back in a savage flurry.

I had broken his sword. I did owe him.

I fucking hated it.

Even worse, I hated that no matter how hard or how many times I hit him, all it did to him was make him laugh. With little to no effort, he caught me by my wrists and pushed me away.

“What is wrong with you? I can buy another sword,” He chuckled, literally laughing in my face. He turned away from me and spoke to someone else. “Sam? Can you help with this?”

My eyes flicked over to the large cat skeleton standing just inside the mouth of the garden. He watched my assault with no more concern than if I was sitting calmly and twiddling my thumbs. It had been weeks since I had caught a glimpse of my familiars yellow eye lights, but the sight of him brought a memory back to my mind. The night that Anna had coaxed my color out of me, Sam had been there to be my lightning rod. Without him, Anna would have been caught in my storm once my aura faded.

Arthur was effortlessly withstanding that same storm.

I was not mad at him. No part of me wanted to hurt him. It was my aura, or rather the release of it.

“Fuck,” I sighed suddenly, ceasing my attack and letting myself sit back down on the soft grass. I peaked up at Arthur through my hair. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, I don’t think so. Sorry if I was playing around too much. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“You weren’t and you didn’t. It's something called afterglow,” I muttered, failing to find my familiar again. It seemed he had shown himself just long enough to make me think about him. “After I use my aura, it makes me feel anger that is not mine.”

“Huh,” Arthur said. He jumped up to his feet and offered me a hand up. “That sucks, there being a pretty major drawback to your magic. Kind of makes it feel like it’s not magic, you know?”

I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “What do you mean?”

“When I think of magic, I think of old wizards with pointy hats and long beards. They normally have a staff and can like make lightning or fireballs. The whole point of having magic is doing things normal people can’t. It's pretty shitty that you get all violent after you use it.” He said, brushing the hay and dust that had settled onto him off with his hands.

“I am sorry about the sword, I would offer to replace it but I cannot just walk down to the wooden weapon shop and purchase it.” I said, beginning to return to something resembling normalcy.

Arthur waved me off. “Forget it, money makes no sense here anyways. Help me train and we will call it even?”

“But I broke the hayman and your blade?” I shook my head, and had to wipe the sweat from my eyes. I had not anticipated the long sleeves and bandages making me feel hotter when I was out in the sun.

The tall man put his right hand behind his back and took on a stance that I recognized immediately. “Do you remember how to play points?”

“Yes, but how is that training? It is a game.” I said, unable to hide the fact that the thought of playing excited me.

“The captain says that it makes your reflexes and thinking quicker. Besides, if you don’t play, I’ll just go play with the guards out front. They will probably give me a better game anyways.” Arthur said, his smile stretching across his face.

I leaned back, mirroring his stance with my own. The places under my bandages that my mother had not managed to close felt tight through the movement. It did not hurt, the opposite was true in fact. Though the skin had been injured, it needed to be stretched. That was the only way it would ever begin to feel normal again.

“Should you count us off, or should I?” I asked Arthur.

“We don’t really do that unless it’s a tournament, you come at me whenever you are-”

I stepped forward suddenly and knocked my two fingers into his. “Two points, Autumn.”

The tall man laughed as we reset. “Alright, I see how it is.”

Arthur was the one that moved next. He quickstepped in, which drew a reaction out of me. My fingers aiming for his shoulder, he took a small step back and held his hand straight out in front of himself.

I was too slow to avoid it.

My forehead met his fingers without my fingers meeting his shoulder.

Arthur had won and all he had needed to do was stand there.

“Don’t feel bad, the captain is the only one that can beat me consistently. I’m pretty good.” Arthur smiled down at me.

“Fuck you. Let’s play again.” I grunted, resetting and counting the seconds until I could go at him again.

Hours later, the sun had begun to set. I don’t know how many games we played or how many points I had scored. We sat on the ground next to the ruined hayman, both breathing heavily. My dress was soaked through with sweat and the bandages on my hands had long since been torn off and thrown away. Those that had covered my feet had been shredded not long after I had decided that the cuffed boots were slowing me down.

I never won a game, I had not even come close if I really thought about it, but I did not care. Not once in the hours that we had been playing did I think about The Mothers. I had become so involved in trying to push my fingers into Arthur’s flesh that I had even forgotten about the golden choker locked around my neck.

“It is getting dark, can I see your spirit?” I asked, breaking the long and comfortable silence that had settled between us.

“Another night,” He answered, pointing at the backdoor of the manor. Anna had just come through it and given me a happy smile. “He isn’t the biggest fan of my sister.”

“Why not?” How could anybody not be a fan of Anna? I wondered. That sort of thing wasn’t possible.

Arthur turned his head to me and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You wanna come train with me again tomorrow? You’re a lot easier to mess with than the guards are.”

I smiled, again feeling pleasure at the thought of playing.

“Only if you want to get beaten by a girl.”