“Come on Skath one hundred meters was your last individual record!” yells my grandfather, “try to make it consistent!”

I force essence into my legs, and it explodes in a jolt of energy, as I leap. I brace for impact as I soar through the air. When I come to my descent, I start preparing for my next jump as my legs impact the soil. I feel my body coil like a spring and bound from the ground again with another blast of energy. My soul begins to jostle in my chest and though I know I’ll pay for it later I have to finish the exercise. I do what I can to twist myself in midair to prepare for my final leap. My feet again contact the ground and my body braces and with all I can safely muster in me I explode from the ground once more for one last leap.

My soul begins to feel like it is tearing at my insides, but I still haven’t reached my limit. I physically strain with all my body’s might to guide myself to prepare for landing, and force what little essence I can into my legs. I collide with the ground and the bones in my legs begin to splinter, but the essence I summoned to my aid takes most of the impact.

My soul now crashing into my flesh, I know I can’t do anymore lest I lose my soul. My legs screaming at me for taking myself beyond both my physical and spiritual limit collapse underneath me. I wipe the sweat from my face and crawl over to a tree to rest.

“Ninety, eighty, and then eighty again,” says my grandfather shaking my head back and forth, “you may have surpassed your distance record, but not your individual best jump.”

“I know, I know, I’m doing the best I can,” I say taking several deep breaths, “If I could recover a little longer than when my soul just barely stops trying to escape my body, I might be able to do exactly what you are asking.”

“Perhaps you are right,” says my grandfather, his spectral form reclining on a tree stump, “strength training is different than the endurance training I put you through, and you have made great progress just in the two months since we changed your exercise routines. Maybe it is time for us to take a break.”

“Wait really? I’ll be able to go home, visit Uzuri, and sleep in a bed for once,” I say shocked that what my grandfather said so long ago wasn’t some lie, but will actually happen.

“Yes! Even I need a break sometimes,” says my grandfather in my gloves, “and I believe the forest will be thankful for us not to be around for a little bit as well.”

I give a chuckle as I look at the path of destruction my training has torn through the forest. Large tree trunks lie strewn about the field I made with my own hands. Some tree trunks were lodged vertically in the soil from throwing them like javelins, and others were piled on one another in ways I could use them as weights. Boulders also were strewn about, some I used to push around my personal gymnasium, others were my punching bags, and the imprint of my fist proudly dotted those large stones.

The lectures have become shorter as we only spend two real time hours in class which equates to about eight hours in the classroom in my head. The strength exercises have become the core of my training. My day started as it always had in the classroom in my head, but after class time ended my day consisted of searching for new materials for stronger or heavier equipment, modifying the gym, and starting on my daily workout designed by my grandfather in which I would do an exercise until I reached my limit, rest, and then go on to my next exercise. My life is a repetitious and painful hell, but I can now say I am not who I once was.

I try to get up, but my legs still haven’t fully healed, so I sit and ponder the whispers of the forest. What once was a torrent of voices now plays like a symphony to my ears. I am made aware of where herbs of interest are that have anti-bacterial properties, where boars roam, and the thoughts of deer. I can almost see these things in my mind’s eye as I seem to soar around the valley as my consciousness focuses in on voices that I find most interesting. I even check in on the monster boar Dargot who charges after some deer for its supper. As I have learned to control my soul, my gift to hear and see the essence of the world has become more fine tuned as well.

What once used to plague me with sleeplessness now serves as my lullaby. I have come a long way from where I was. Nearly half a year has passed, and I can’t believe the progress I’ve made. I guess Uncle Argentum was bluffing when he told me it would take hundreds of years to train me.

“That’s because it would have taken that long,” pipes up my grandfather.

I rub my forehead and respond, “and I thought I told you to stay out of my thoughts. Though now we are talking, why am I progressing under you when my father failed, and Argentum thought it would take hundreds of times as long to help me?”

“Different combinations of students and teachers can produce significantly different results,” says my grandfather flourishing a finger upward to accentuate his point, “The greatest teacher in the world could still find a student that could take hundreds of years to comprehend their teachings. However, this is not to say the student was stupid or incapable, as another teacher could teach that same student and somehow do what the greatest teacher couldn’t and in a short amount of time. Sometimes it is the connections and disconnects that drive student and teacher to be edified together, rather than inherent talent or ability. But enough of that! go and enjoy your day.”

I got up from the ground, my legs healed from today’s training, and I run toward the village. I’m almost flying as excitement drives my legs to run faster and faster. I kick off of trees as I bound through the forest barely touching the ground. What once seemed to only occur in dreams was now my reality.

The closer I get to the village; I begin to slow myself to more human speeds. The freedom of the wind passing through my hair and around my body, replaced by the chains of my responsibility. The shackles I willingly placed upon myself weigh upon me and have driven me to who I am now, but the sky seems to call me.

I’m walking now, as I look at the village in front of me. I stopped in my tracks, and the distance between me and the village though short never felt so large. I’ve abandoned my humanity, given my life and death to my master, suffered all manner of physical, emotional, and spiritual abuse, and have nearly died, all for them. Despite all my sacrifices, I’ll never be accepted by them, and even Uzuri will need to be reincorporated into her people. After accomplishing all that I set out to do, saving Uzuri and the village, I’ll be alone.

What will the future hold for me? I have been so focused on a singular goal, that I haven’t really thought about what happens next. It sounded like my uncle has something in mind for me. He needs a celandil for something and wants me to travel the world for some reason. If Argentum believes in the divine destinies that would mean that he thinks that I must go protect and guide humanity. Sure, hope that isn’t the case, as I’m struggling to do just that with the village.

I turn my gaze to the ebony cliffs and my mind erupts with wonder. What is beyond those cliffs? my father left a world united, is it still that way? Did all the celandil truly die? Will I find people that will accept me? Will I find friends? My life debt may result in my death, but that may have been a bluff by Argentum, so maybe after my travels and fulfilling my duties I’ll be able to settle down somewhere, somewhere I truly belong.

When I think of the place I belong, I can only picture myself in Uzuri’s embrace. I know that we can’t be together, but I’d like to find what that image in my mind makes me feel sometime in my life and not just imagine it but actually experience it. I want to live and be a part of the world that has so long cast me outside. I bring my view back to the village and I feel myself crave a place in its walls. Then again, maybe I’ll always be an outsider.

I walk toward the front gate of the village and just stare down the main path leading to the village’s heart. I feel the village guards’ glares more than I see them, but I want to see those I wish to protect. I see a small child wattle toward his mother, her father crouched behind her to catch her if she falls. I watch as a group of young boys play a mock battle with sticks, each one detailing their imagined wounds in hilariously exaggerated ways. I glance down at a group of young women gathered together in a group talking with one another, laughing and enjoying the bliss of friendship. I almost absent mindedly take a few steps forward and a guard plunges his spear in the dirt to cut me off.

“What’s this Martog born doing here,” says a voice behind me that sends a shudder down my spine.

The guard in front of me shrugs and says, “Looks like he’s not all there. Must have beaten the sense out of him when you strung him up.”

“I’ll just have to put some sense into him then,” says Gehenna, and time slows.

“Finally, I can kill this whelp, now that his father isn’t around to save him. Without this whore’s shit around the village will be safe, and his mother will keep that lich at bay,” says Gehenna’s soul and I know he is winding a punch and I quicken myself just enough to dodge his oncoming blow. A devilish part of me knows Gehenna will overcommit to his punch, and I start to stick out my leg to catch him unaware.

Time speeds up and Gehenna’s fist flies past my face and with my leg out he trips and falls on his face. Gehenna, not one to appear the agile type quickly pushes himself from the ground and swings again. Time doesn’t need to slow, as I’m fed up with this and especially him. I catch his fist in my hand and stop his punch.

He struggles against my grip and all I do is glower at the villain that had made Uzuri, and my family suffer. Another swing and another catch. I have both hands of the behemoth in a death grip, and I won’t be letting go. Gehenna wrestles against me to try and overpower me and get up from the ground, but I bear down on him and he doesn’t pose a challenge to my new strength.

“Whatever you do to me, she’ll get tenfold,” says Gehenna with a wicked smile.

One of my hand’s clenches shut followed by a wet splutter and sharp cracks. The behemoth’s right hand turned to a grotesque boney jelly. I heard him wail in pain, but I wouldn’t release my grip, in fact I couldn’t, as I had the man I despised right where I wanted him.

“Martog is coming for you Gehenna, and if you dare lay a finger on Uzuri again my father and the teratolion shouldn’t be the only thing you fear,” I whisper through gritted teeth.

“You little whore’s shit, I will take her to the jaws of Martog and back tonight,” wails Gehenna, and the guards behind him stand frozen in place watching a boy so much smaller than their leader completely overwhelm him.

“I’d like to see you try,” I mutter as the definitions of remorse, fear, and restraint are quickly forgotten. I shatter his other hand and with a quick motion both of Gehenna’s arms pop as they dislocate from his shoulders. His hands now bloody messes, and his arms hanging uselessly at his sides I let go and kick Gehenna into the village. I know a few bones have broken in his chest, but it’s better his than Uzuri’s.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

I shoot a look at both guards that stood quivering and say, “tell the high matriarch that Martog is furious and knows her sins. I should know I am his kin.”

I look down the road and see people begin to gather, and what fear exists in few, becomes courage with many. What rage I felt before left as quickly as it came, and fear flooded me. I look at the wreck of a man before me and his mangled hands and then look at my own unscathed yet bloody hands. What have I done? I sprint into the woods before they can start organizing a search party. I run as fast as my soul can push my legs to leave as many false paths as I can leading deeper into the forest and finally squeeze my way in the one place they wouldn’t look first.

I keep running until I trip and fall behind the wall of the guard post where I crumple in a ball. The once warm blood on my hands now cooling and drying. What sort of monster have I become? I never wanted this. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I broke my healer’s oath! I broke my promise to her! I collect herbs and have learned healing arts from the world around me. I’ve learned to heal to rid the world of pain and make things better, as to not bring more pain into the world. I can’t be a source of more pain in this world. It’s why I must save the whole village not just Uzuri. I didn’t realize how far I’ve come as a celandil and how I’ve stepped away from what I was becoming before. All I’ve worked toward has cumulated in that sanguine moment, and my hands are sullied with a scarlet sin.

“That was fantastic Skath, if your plan was to terrify the village into submission when you rescue the girl this was an amazing first step,” says my grandfather who appears next to me in his misty apparition, “I haven’t taught you psychological warfare, but it appears you are a natural.”

“I was just so angry, and it just sort of happened,” I say between sobs, as I try to scrub the blood on my hands in the dirt. I just want it off, but it won’t leave me. I didn’t want this. I find myself gagging, and I vomit in the alley. Almost more out of instinct I burry my vomit to hide it from the matriarchs later, but I find myself so shaken that moving seems to come in jagged bursts.

“Did you really expect that you’d not have to get your hands dirty? If you do not prepare well enough this whole village will burn. If anything, even in the best case, one result of your interventions will be Gehenna’s execution and even if it won’t be you holding the axe, it’ll be you who carries the weight of his blood,” says my grandfather shaking his head, “I do not take pleasure in telling you these things, but the moment of action is soon at hand. However, your hand right now is lacking if you wish to save the innocent.”

“The one thing that brought me joy outside of Uzuri was learning about healing,” I mutter under my breath, “I would collect flowers and plants that would whisper to me their various uses. I secretly hoped that one day I would be accepted into the village and be able to work as a healer even if it is women’s work. The world has enough pain in it. I just wanted to live in a world where I actively fought to reduce the suffering of others. I know some may deserve the pain they receive, but I don’t want to be the cause. I just want to help, especially those who are in dire need.”

“That is noble, but way to idealistic,” says my grandfather placing his ethereal hand on my shoulder, “Sometimes in helping we hurt, as sometimes hurting others can heal. We cannot avoid pain in this world as it is inevitable. I knew of the desires in your heart to learn the healing arts, and that is why I have been teaching you essentials like chemistry, and biology almost exclusively. When I no longer can teach you, my wish is that you do go on to heal the world. I had to be a warrior and a leader in my time, and it seems your father was both of those things as well, but for you I hope that you will be a healer in a world that needs it. I know that hope is idealistic as well, and reality often leads even the best of dreams to become nightmares. Be prepared for pain Skath, as a celandil’s lot is to endure all manner of it and for much longer than our human brothers.”

I couldn’t respond, I was still so emotionally bombarded that words couldn’t even form, so my grandfather continued, “We can only do so much, and even if we have some control over our lives this does not mean we have absolute mastery of our fates. I cannot make the choices of another even if said choices directly influence me. Unfortunately, Skath, what is ahead of you may not be entirely for you to choose. But you can at least embrace this very moment and find comfort in your intentions. It will be memories of these moments that will comfort you later, come what may.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask gathering myself enough to speak again.

My grandfather hangs his head in shame, “All I wanted was for humanity and the celandil to live as equals, and I spent most of my life seeking a peaceful solution. Life is cruel, and inevitably I had to choose between the two halves I carried inside of me, and I chose to free those that were abused for the luxury of the other. I helped in liberating my chosen people, by giving them the courage and tools to rise up against their slavers. Though, in empowering humanity, humanity abandoned me and chose the fate of my other people and I watched as half of my world burned. I never desired the extermination of my people, but by the time that decision was to be made, it was no longer mine to make.”

“That’s not all that comforting,” I say pushing myself off the ground and I go to sit next to my grandfather.

My grandfather gives a halfhearted chuckle and says, “It wasn’t supposed to be. I just wish to prepare you, as I know that this village will be but the beginning of what you will carry with you. Now go, and at least enjoy the latter part of your day off.”

My grandfather disappears, and I find myself alone and listening to the village. The boisterous activity and shouts for my head were now quieting down. A heavy silence fell upon the village, as the guard returned to their outpost. None of them spoke, and I felt as perturbed as they were just wanting to know what they were thinking, but nothing was said for a long time.

“That couldn’t have been a demon of Martog, a real one, now could it,” I hear someone mutter breaking the all-consuming stillness under their breath, “No way a boy could have disappeared like that or left so many tracks.”

I waited to see if anyone else would speak, but the chilling noiselessness of the building resumed, and no one dared to break it. I continued down the alleys, and the silence followed me, it was strangely haunting. Never was the village so still, as even in the peaceful hour before the break of dawn there are at least snores. I reach the back of Gehenna’s house and not a sound comes from it. If Gehenna was taken for treatment, there must be another building dedicated to it, as I would have expected his moans to be present at his home otherwise. I knock on the wall and the sound puts me on edge, even though I was the source of it.

“Skath?” says Uzuri from behind the wall, “Skath, please be you. Am I just talking to the wind again?”

“Uzuri, it’s me,” I say from the other side of the wall putting a hand against its surface, “I’m so sorry that I haven’t been able to come by. I’ve been training and preparing for the day I break you free of here. The day is coming, please just give me a little bit more time.”

“Skath! I have missed you so much. Gareth told me about your plans, and I knew that you were gone for my sake, but it didn’t make me stop missing you,” says Uzuri weeping, and I find myself conflicted by her words, “my goddess visited more in your absence, and even gave me more paints, but nothing compares to hearing your voice again.”

“What have you been painting,” I say awkwardly trying to change the subject from something that would have made my heart soar months ago, but now rips at my insides.

“Mostly the stars, but I’ve tried to paint some of the stories you told me as well,” says Uzuri excitedly, “I’ve even painted a portrait of you, but it isn’t that good. I can’t wait for the day I see your face again.”

“I’m glad to hear you like this again. You have no idea how much Gareth and I worried about you the last time we spoke,” I say genuinely happy to hear her speak like her old self again, but again I had a gnawing in my heart.

“I know…” says Uzuri her voice growing quite only to return to a tone of certain chipperness, “but that is the past. You are still out there trying to help me, and you are giving your everything for me. I can’t get discouraged because I know that you and Gareth will succeed. If there is anything I can do to help you two I’ll do it! I’ll endure thousands of beatings if I can help you guys!”

“Well good news, I don’t think Gehenna will ever beat you again,” I say through gritted teeth, my eyes drawn to my hands and blood appears to ooze between my fingers in my tortured vision, “he kind of took a tumble and broke both his arms earlier today.”

“That can’t be true,” whispers Uzuri in disbelief, “don’t lie to me Skath, what really happened.”

“Well… ummm… please don’t think of me as some monster,” I say my hands shaking, “I.. uhhh… we… Gehenna and I got into a fight, and I broke both his hands and dislocated his shoulders. I didn’t mean to do it, he threatened you and I… I just couldn’t have him hurt you again.”

“Skath, are you telling me one of your stories?” asks Uzuri and I hear her nails claw the wall, “no one could do such a thing against that beast… that can’t be true, only another beast could even come close to being a match for him, let alone harm him.”

“It’s true Uzuri,” I say shame festering inside of me, “your father will not ever harm you again, as he won’t heal fast enough to prevent Gareth and I from freeing you.”

“You couldn’t have done that to him, your small and weak, and you swore to me that as a healer you would do no harm,” says Uzuri and guilt like a wave crashes over my entire being.

“I’m not just a healer anymore. I’m a celandil, which to some means I have to protect and guide, and I’ve chosen to protect you,” I say as a tear strolls down my cheek, "I never wanted to break my promise to you or betray what I aspired to become. Now I’m not just trying to save you but the whole village, and even though I messed up today I am still trying to live up to my promise to you.”

“What is happening Skath? What do you mean that the village is in danger?” says Uzuri behind the wall.

I need to tell her about her destiny, as the day of her rescue will not be the time, “I know why you hid your face from me.”

“Skath, I didn’t mean to hurt you or scare you,” she says her voice in panicked flux as it sounds like she is about to cry again.

“You are not some demon, if Gehenna has ever told you that! Uzuri, you are the princess of the teratolion people, and I’ll be taking you back to them where you’ll be safe from Gehenna and the village,” I say trying my best to explain the best I can and soothe her worries, “This is the destiny that I mentioned before. Your grandfather cares so much for you, and I believe he wants you to be by his side. You have a family that you haven’t met yet that loves you deeply.”

“This has to be one of your tales! Your words can’t be true. I have more family that cares for me? Then where have they been, Skath?” asks Uzuri her voice still unstable but now sounding angry.

“Gehenna would be the answer, as he threatens your life to protect the village from the wrath of the teratolion. Your grandfather hasn’t come to save you, as he fears for your life,” I explain, “it is out of love for you that your grandfather hasn’t come for you.”

“Why does the village lock me up then if I protect them? I don’t understand Skath, why?” says Uzuri behind the wall, her nails again raking against the surface.

I hate how telling these things to her are hurting her, I almost feel like I’m breaking my promise to her a second time today with each word I speak, but she needs to know, “Uzuri, what I am about to tell you may be extremely troubling to you, but it is true.”

I tell her the whole story of my family, Gehenna, and her mother, not sparing details. I heard her crying behind the wall, but I didn’t stop my telling of ‘her’ story. Hearing her weep was almost worse than having my soul attempt to tear itself from my chest. By the time I finished the story what guilt I felt for breaking my promise to Uzuri and myself was compounded tenfold. When I stopped telling the story, I hadn’t noticed that she had stopped crying.

“So, Gehenna, the high matriarch, and the village are all responsible for me being here. I’ve had my childhood and adolescence stolen from me, because I am supposedly a demon for them, and yet the true demon is that beast,” says Uzuri behind the wall, “He walks free and justified, where I must suffer.”

“That basically sums it up,” I say noting something very new in Uzuri. Her voice was filled with fury, a tone of voice alien to her.

“Have you visited my grandfather?” asks Uzuri her voice still seething.

“No, not yet. I haven’t exactly had the time, but I really need to,” I admit reeling from the intensity in her voice.

“Then tell him that his granddaughter looks forward to meeting him,” says Uzuri her voice now sure and commanding in tone, “go Skath, I need some time to process all you’ve told me.”

“Do you want me to tell you a story before I go, or…” I haven’t heard her talk to me like this before and don’t know how to react.

“Go to my grandfather Skath! Please, do this for me and tell him I’m alright and on my way,” says Uzuri, who’s breathing is somewhere between the sharp exhales of anger and the choked breathing of a sob.

“I’ll go right now,” I say, and I immediately follow her order and dart through the maze of alleys. I feel taken aback by being given such a direct order from her, but I guess she will soon be giving out orders like this in the future so maybe it’s good practice for her.

I crawl out of the alleys and as I get up, I feel two arms wrap around me. I tense up, and prepare to fight, but the arms are not trying to capture me. I’m being embraced. I take a second to gauge my situation and I see a woman that looks like my mother, but more petite and feminine hugging me.

“Thank you,” she whispers before letting me go. As quickly as the exchange had begun, she runs back to the village entrance, leaving me with even more questions to plague my mind.