A whirl of black fog rose up from a circle that emerged around her feet. It engulfed her, encasing her in, plunging her once again into darkness—but her eyes could still pick up on form and color within the black. The fog climbed up her body like a living organism, and her clothing seemed to melt at its touch as if the fog were acidic. In a panic, she forgot to breathe. She wanted to look for help; for Liorax, for Amikavi, for the attendants—but her eyes could not penetrate past the area within a few inches.
The fog began to spin into a thousand threads that wove into one another, wrapping around the form of her body. Inch by inch, the layers spun until they settled into layers of cloth that fell into a comfortable fit, and like an egg that was breaking, the leftover fog shattered and dissipated into nothing.
Shivering and falling to her knees, Guin rubbed her arms.
“Observe, half-Che,” Liorax’s voice came very close to her sensitive fox ears. She jerked away, falling to the side as he continued: “The power of a Tatterskin.”
Guin looked down at her her new ‘coat’ in mild shock.
The Tatterskin class had some major armor restrictions—perhaps because the word ‘coat’ wasn’t as much of a play on words as she had thought. Shuffling up back to her feet, she ran her hands over the robe-like garments of black and silver that the fog had left her with. Turning this way and that to see her new look, she heard small bells at the ends of the silvery ribbons and black cords that now tied her hair up and out of her face as they jingled. Even the slightest of her movements caused the sound of windchimes to echo all around her.
The fabric of the clothing itself was thin and light, but she had no idea what kind of fabric it was supposed to have been made of. The silvery parts of the costume were thicker and heavier, with a pattern akin to fish scale, and the black seemed to be constructed of very light, very soft leather, with parts of it enforced with fine but dense bits of fur or decorated with thin threads of copper. A thicker copper-colored cord, with threads of silver, weaved into it, wrapped around her waist over wide swaths of layered black and silver cloth.
She started to stretch, feeling the fabric move with her body. Her soft, leathery boots made no sound if she stepped lightly. However, an odd feeling at her back caused her to turn.
Twitching, Guin paused in shock. “I... I have a tail,” she stated, playing with it.
“Is that all you have to say?” Liorax asked with a bored tone.
“I’m like a ninja... with a... tail,” Guin stated again, flipping her tail around like she had seen the others do.
Exasperated, Liorax shook his head. “No, no, no,” he said. “You are a Tatterskin. My Tatterskin.”
“How do you feel, half-Che?” Amikavi asked, her voice soft and amused as always. “Do you sense the power that now fills you, granted by the combination of mine and the harbinger’s power?”
“It’s as if I were in someone else’s body,” Guin murmured in wonder, looking herself over again. Running her hand to feel the changes to her hairstyle, she felt that her fox ears had also returned, along with, she discovered, her ears and teeth and claws. I guess eating the liver was pointless earlier... In the future, if she wanted to run around town, she would just need to be sure to remember to change forms.
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Amikavi rose and circled Guin. “Each spirit you collect will have its own appearances, strengths, and weaknesses,” the white fox spirit told her. “These appearances may grow or change as you and your spirits grow with power. Some changes you will notice. Some, you may not. But remember, Tatterskin, your mission is to help the spirits and the bonds between the Che people.”
Though she listened to Amikavi’s words and took them to heart, Guin’s eyes drifted down, falling on the dais that served as Amikavi’s throne. She looked at the painting of the hero-king with new eyes. The hero-king—Crown Prince Octavian—and his acts of trophy collecting. If the forest around Miala De Ri was in the state that it was from a Gorak, what would White Fox Forest be like with the death of the Dragon King?
Eyes burning with frustration as she stared at Tethaigou, Guin asked in a low voice, “White Fox Forest is gone, isn’t it? You didn’t really answer before, but it is, isn’t it?
Amikavi shook her head. “I know not what havoc Tethaigou brought after that Che prince left our forest,” she said. “Attached to my skin, I followed the fool. Haunted him, cursed him. He should have died a painful death along with all his men and his kingdom. My only regret is that, being rooted to my pelt, I could not follow him to his end.”
“You did not see his death?”
“I did not,” Amikavi told her, teeth bared. “I hope he writhed in pain and horror until the very last of his moments.
Guin walked over to the painting and knelt beside it, once again running her hand over the smooth cold of the gilded gold surface. “You keep telling me that my job as a Tatterskin is to bring the people of the Veil and the people of the Che together,” she murmured, tracing Tethaigou’s outline with her finger. “How do I do that when there is so much pain between the Che and the Veil? How do I do that when one side constantly hurts the other?”
“You will go out into the world now and gather tales of power and peace, fight corruption, and unite the lands,” Amikavi told her as if it were a matter of course. “You are the one who walks between the light and the dark of the world—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about!” Guin shouted, standing again. “You say all these things, and yet you wish death and torment upon one who has wronged you! And what of his people, then, had your curses worked? What of the innocent who have done you no wrong? What of the family of the one who did? Should they not have the right to seek the same vengeance as you do? How do I stop the cycle of hate and pain if one side is just as guilty as the other?”
“Silence!” Amikavi growled, hackles raised. “Know your place, girl!”
The image of the dragon that killed her in her dreams rose up in her mind, sharply contrasted by the gray garule who had shown her kindness throughout her ignorance. How Ibraxis and Tea had acted as friends through Zen’s behavior. How Bahena had always treated her well. How protective Cynth felt she had to be of Miko because of the actions and words of others—and yet some part of Guin herself didn’t want to accept any of them.
“I know my place!” Guin growled back, tears stinging her eyes. “I know my place all too well. I want to know how I am supposed to convince strangers to rise above themselves when I can’t even convince myself to?”
Amikavi eyed her evenly. “That, Tatterskin, is for you to discover on your own. These are answers that I cannot simply give you, for your answer to that question is as relevant as your actions,” the fox spirit raised her head proudly. “This is not an easy road, I ask of you, girl. This I understand—but roads worth taking never are. Perhaps you are right, too, that I am in the wrong. Perhaps the corruption has soaked into my spirit more than I thought, for the lines are far more blurred to me now than I remember them being. I cannot leave this place, Tatterskin, but I can sense it. The Corruption has grown strong. The world is falling into despair, and The Lady has grown weak. She needs you, Candidate. She needs you to be who you are.”
Clenching her fists, Guin shook her head. “And what is that, then? Who am I?”
The great fox spirit flipped her tails and smiled wryly at her, then frowned. “You said before that, ‘had’ my curses worked,” she said. “What mean you by this?”
“Corruption,” Guin answered, looking away. “Corruption has reached the forests surrounding Miala De Ri, and I have a very good reason to believe it was caused by Crown Prince Octavian.”