ARC 2: CAST IN SHADOW
Remus had never been good at starting conversations with strangers; particularly strangers with a spear-point to his throat.
The Ambition Clan spanned out around him, and Remus couldn’t help but marvel at the tight-knit community, clustered between cloud-tearing mountains at all angles. Lit candles, many of their wicks a noticeably blue flame, beckoned away the night’s encroaching darkness. Whilst many of their buildings were lost to Remus in the gloom, the vague contours of the hamlet gave him the impression of a humble, but serviceable place.
What a pity that the obscuring veil didn’t extend to the armed gathering around him. The little light available was more than enough to highlight the glares scrutinising Remus, in that awfully thorough manner.
Dazed, he could barely register the swarm of faces, blades hefted his way amongst the clansmen. In the ghostly luminance, it was all the more haunting. With Violet to his back, the two of them huddled together, the inclination to lash out at them all terribly intoxicating.
“Are you trying to expose us?” One voice shouted, out of the angry mob.
“No, I-”
“First the Unbounded attacks, now you two lead other clans towards us!” Another presence, equally as furious, didn’t hesitate to speak their mind. “Or were you both behind that first incident as well?”
The Mark on Remus’ shoulder — a new addition to his arsenal, but one he could certainly make useful — was practically beckoning at him to activate it. It was addling his mind, eating away at his self-restraint; freeing Remus of his cautious inhibitions. Who were these people to threaten him? Now that he had his Mark, the destruction he could inflict . . .
In a rush of reasoning, Remus shook his head. Sure, the potential power on his hands now was nauseating, even more so compared to the meagre strength he possessed beforehand. Perhaps, if he really was swift about it, at any passing second, enough power to get away from the Ambition Clan could be whipped out of his fingertips.
But the last time Remus had made a rash decision, two people had died. If there ever was a time to be logical, now would be it. He was about to speak up, shoving down his fiery inclinations, when a bearded mass of muscle waltzed over.
“Is this any way to treat newcomers?” An elderly voice enquired, bushy, snow-white eyebrows masking his face. “Particularly, a new member of our clan?”
Disbelieving faces scrutinised Remus. His torn tunic veiling nothing of his Mark,Tanish’s smug, undeniable form was visible to all.
A blonde young man, eyes fixed with a neon, unnatural blue with no whites, refrained from his previous silence. “The Gallery will host the proof of his efforts, if this is true. Ma?”
“We’ll check,” a woman, quite obviously his mother, stepped forth. “Come, Aziel.”
The two left, and Remus, for some peculiar reason, couldn’t help but feel abandoned. The two had been the only individuals of the gathering without that awful dislike in their poise.
Violet shifted uncomfortably behind him, muttering into his ear. “By the aura he’s giving off, that old man is their sect leader. Use your head, and we can probably talk our way out of this.”
Swallowing his pride, Remus fell to one knee. “My sincerest apologies.”
All murmuring ceased, an entire clan’s worth of eyes set on him. “Me and my companion here were caught in the crossfire between a few members of The Wild Clan. I didn't mean to intentionally reveal your location to them, I can swear an Oath upon it.” Sensing their anger slipping, Remus decided to push a little further. “I hear you’ve had Unbounded trouble, care to expand on that? Perhaps we could help out.”
It was here that Remus realised something crucial. The people of this sect weren’t angry at them, exactly. These poor clansmen had just been scared out of their skins in the middle of the night, and by the sounds of it, were likely expecting an Unbounded raid in his stead. After growing that paranoid, Remus would be looking for something to target his anger at too.
Quite a few sighs resounded all around. Pity sprouted in Remus’ heart at the weary sound pervading through it all.
The sect leader approached. “Seeing how you’re a member of our clan now, Sir, it would only be right to inform you of some of the dangers you’ll be facing, if you do decide to stay here, mister . . . ?”
“Remus.”
He seemed to mull the name over, as if sucking away on a piece of confectionary. “Remus, eh? I’m Brison. I’ve been ruling over this clan for nearly a century, and lived nearly for twice that long. But never before have I seen so many raids befall us. The Unbounded are trying to eliminate the lot of us, it is quite clear, so you might be able to imagine why your welcoming may have come off as a little hostile.”
Remus didn’t have to feign his sincerity, an unbecoming frown settling on his face. “I’m sorry to hear that. And don’t worry, I took no offence.”
Inwardly, Remus let out the greatest sigh of his life. Whoever this Brison individual was, their sheer lifespan alone meant they were at least as powerful as Andreas. Remus had no business starting grudges with Warlords.
That should settle things, he mused. Only for his tension to spike straight back up, as pointed hands turned to Violet.
“Who is she?” Several people enquired, and their tones, whilst not impolite, held a foreboding quality to them that Remus didn’t find to his liking.
Stuttering, Remus was saved when he recalled that Violet was quite capable of talking for herself.
“Excuse my intrusion,” she began, stone-faced, “I’m merely passing through — I have business in the Ravaged Lands you see, clan affairs. If you would allow me to work for my stay, I would most appreciate it.”
More muttering, but less heated.
“By the sounds of it, you’ll have plenty of odd jobs to attend to,” Brison said, “but I need to know one key thing.”
Violet narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “Yes?”
“Can you fight?”
She grinned, but it was the most subtle curving of the lips Remus had ever seen. More like the hint of amusement, instead of actually expressing it. “Whilst not nearly as well as you, I suspect, I think you’ll find my capabilities . . . adequate.”
Brison nodded, and, realising there was no real danger, the crowd flocked back to their respective huts.
“I’ll see about finding you two somewhere to rest, and in the morning Remus, you may explore the Gallery, as is tradition for all newcomers arriving through the trials.”
Nodding, Remus acted as if he knew exactly what the man was talking about. By the sounds of it, the Gallery was some sort of museum associated heavily with the Trials of the Earnest. Putting aside his scepticism for now, Remus supposed a little sightseeing would be a breath of fresh air.
“Not to badger the two of you after a long night, but I must make something crystal clear: hide no secrets. There’s enough danger afflicting us as there is, and, not to antagonise, but you two bringing any extra would not sit well with any of us. Not at all.”
Remus could sense Violet’s struggle not to pass him a wayside glance. The two remained painfully silent, as Brison marched away.
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“You really shouldn't have,” Remus spoke to the back of two blonde heads, walking around a stretch of fences, and to the front of a line of barns. He hadn’t known what to expect when arriving at the Ambition Clan, but an entire farm, spanning out as far as he could espy through the twilight gloom, certainly wasn’t the first thing to come to mind.
“Oh, it's no trouble,” the older woman reassured, smiling sweetly, “I know stacks of hay don’t make the most comfortable of beds, but they’ll keep you warm.”
“Thank you,” a sleepy Violet spoke softly, her drooping eyelids and slanted posture indicating all it needed to. “I think I could sleep on brick right now.”
Hansley laughed, but Remus got the troubling impression that comment hadn’t been intended to amuse.
“Aziel, dear, would you take care of our guests?”
Hansley’s son nodded, sapphire irises clearly no hereditary inheritance from his mother. Remus’s attention was drawn to the woman’s naturally blue nails however, and it didn’t take a genius to tell there was another cause for the shade, other than standard nail polish.
With Violet hitting the hay — quite literally — before any of them could notice, Remus struck up a conversation with Aziel.
“Your eyes, are those an alteration you gained from reaching Emblazed?”
“Yep,” he answered, leaning over a fence, and staring distantly forwards, “bodily changes after Emblazed are quite common amongst our sect. I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw you running around with blazing blue hair in a few Passings.”
Remus chuckled. “So, this Gallery. What’s it like?”
“Big place.” Aziel said dryly, eyes not looking away from the dormant crops. “It houses all the pieces of evidence for each trial-taker. Nowadays, it's a rare thing indeed for the sect to expand that way. Most of us are descendants from past takers of the trials.”
The sustainability of this troubled Remus, but before he could comment on it, he noticed what Aziel was staring at so fiercely.
Out in the farm, entire rows of vegetables had been torn out of the ground. Soil flickered here and there to stain the fences an unpleasant brown, and the perimetres were toppled in several areas.
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“What happened here?”
One word, and Remus was told all he needed to know. “Unbounded.”
There was an awkward silence, where neither of them said a thing. Dark thoughts spawned in Remus’ speculating mind. The aversion to the fiends was so strong here, so all-encompassing. If Violet’s true form was ever exposed . . .
But could he blame them? Remus was Violet’s closest friend, to his knowledge anyway, and not even he knew what to make of her revealed identity — however much shame that truth sparked within him. Remus didn’t hold a grudge against her of course, or any sort of prejudice. If there was anything Remus could rely on as fact within this whole Unbounded ordeal, it was that Violet was nothing like the rest of her scheming kin. Alas, the people of the Ambition Clan didn’t know her as well as Remus did. It was insanely dangerous for her to merely stay here for a few hours, let alone Durations. Regardless of how inconspicuous she attempted to be.
But then again, was there anywhere on earth that wouldn’t merit a risk?
A sickly sensation sent Remus’ stomach churning.
“Do you work on the farm?” He asked, purely to change the subject.
“I’ve been helping out since my father died, a few years back.” In a sudden change of mood, Aziel scowled. “Mother wants me to spend the rest of my life ploughing these fields. That’s the problem you see: all of her ambition is directed at the farm, on mastering agriculture. She can’t seem to accept that my passions aren’t her’s.”
“Then what do you want to do?”
Aziel’s face softened. “To become a Foot-Soldier, and join the war-effort. Out there, I’ll really be able to pay back the Unbounded. Who do they think they are? Trampling over here and dashing away before we can strike back?”
Remus' eyes widened, as a subtle blue spark arose from Aziel’s clenched fist.
“Um, Aziel-”
“They contributed to my father’s death, I just know it. He claims his injuries from one of the first raids weren’t a problem, but I know that if they had never laid a scratch on him-”
His entire hand was ablaze now, flickering with the might of turquoise flame.
“-he would still be around!”
“Aziel!”
The fire reached the sleeve of his tunic, and, in a wild panic, Aziel patted it down. Any sign of blue withdrew, and the boy sighed.
“A-apologies,” he stammered, holding himself a little more closely. “Sometimes my anger gets the better of me, and-”
“How the hell did you summon so much flame?” Remus cried. “I can barely get my pinky to glow.”
Aziel chuckled awkwardly, holding himself a little more tightly. “It's nothing, you’ll learn with time. Here, give me your hand, I’ll show you.”
Taking one glance at Remus’ extended right arm, Aziel staggered back. “Gods above, what happened to your hand?”
In all the chaos of the night, Remus had almost forgotten the severed state of his ring finger. He quickly whisked the bloody bundle out of sight. “It's nothing. Just injured my hand on the way here.”
“That bandaging is doing you no favours.” Aziel unwrapped it, before gagging. “You severed it?”
Remus laughed gawkily, but there was no humour behind it. It fell false on his own ears. “You should have seen the other guy.”
Aziel evidently didn’t find the joke amusing, urging Remus towards their front cottage. “Come in. Ma’ has some medical experience; she’ll patch you up just fine.”
Remus nodded, the disturbing reality that his hand was entirely numb motivation enough.
Within five minutes, Remus found himself seated in a kitchen, Hansley dabbing the remains of his finger with all sorts of substances. What exactly they were, he couldn’t tell you, and yet it stung almost as badly as losing the appendage itself did.
“You poor thing,” she doted, “and at Enkindled too.”
Fighting through the tightness of his throat, Remus put on a brave front. “It could have been worse.”
“We saw that Unbounded’s finger at your stand, in the Gallery,” Aziel said, “was it that beast that caused this?”
“No, Styrmir wasn’t too much trouble. It was those Wild Sect clansmen chasing us on the way here.”
The entire table suddenly grew painfully tense. It was obvious to anyone that the Ambition Sect was secluded far away from the rest of the Mortal Realms’ inhabitants. Distance often paved the way for aversion, and hostility from there, was simply one step further.
“Likely warranted, I’ll admit.” He finally spoke. “But that’s a long story.”
It was getting beyond late, so, despite how overtly curious the two of them were, neither of them enquired any deeper. “You shouldn’t face too many difficulties with your hand,” Hansley eventually said, “but you’ll have trouble holding onto things — and I won't lie to you, that may mean you won’t be able to keep a steady grip on a weapon. Though you could always train with the other side.”
That came like a sucker-punch right to Remus’ abdomen. “Good thing I normally fight with my fists then,” he mused, “this could have jeopardised any other fighting style.”
“It's still possible of course, but a handicap like that won’t benefit you in the long-run. Besides, like you said, martial arts alone will be enough, if you utilise your Mark’s abilities accordingly.”
Remus let the woman finish her remedies for the hand, before continuing. “How long would you say the hand will take to heal?”
In a yelp, Remus shook the limb feverishly. There, where an open wound had previously laid, was a patch of burnt flesh. It was sealed, sure, but such archaic practices weren't what Remus had in mind when consulting Hansley.
“Was cauterising really necessary?”
“Yes, apologies, if you want to be in tip-top fighting shape any time soon. Maybe it would have sealed on its own given long enough, or a Mark with healing properties could have sorted you out, but this is the best you’ll get out here, I’m afraid.” The woman held not a hint of sarcasm about her, each word wistfully honest. “Your Engorged abilities should render any signs of burning gone within a Duration.”
Impressed by the speed at which Hansley had summoned the flame before recoiling it, Remus was left stunned.
“You’re lucky you have your Mark now,” Aziel took a sip of water from his cup, “you’d likely be in tears without the endurance boost from Tanish.”
This neatly skirted the conversation in a direction Remus had been set on exploring. “Speaking of which . . . are we fireproof? I trained with the Flame Sect for a time, do the abilities overlap much?”
“Not really. And no, you’re as vulnerable to fire as any old person.” Hansley crushed his dreams. “The sparks we release are manifestations of our aspiration — the flame of our Ambition, or so they say. You’re immune to that, or specifically your own Ambition, but not fire, nor any other clansman’s equivalent. Hence why you felt pain back there.”
Aziel raised an eyebrow. “Working with the Flame Sect? You have an intriguing past Remus. You’ll have to tell me about it when we train tomorrow.”
Remus very nearly bounced out of his seat. “You mean to say-”
“Of course. I couldn’t deny us of another recruit. Especially one willing to help us out during the Unbounded raids. Plus, if it means I don’t have to work on the farm for a little while . . .”
“Aziel!”
Laughter reverberated around them all, crashing out of Remus’ throat as his last drop of energy dispersed. The next few seconds were a blur, and before he knew it, Remus felt the cushioning of hay pressing against his body.
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Remus had trouble sleeping that night.
It was to the extent that a faint rustling off to the side was all it took to stir him. Jolting upwards in a rush of movement, Remus gasped for air, the chill of night pervading all throughout the barn. Perspiration oozed down his borrowed tunic and trousers, and Remus almost fainted, having half expected Elmore to come rushing out with a fiery vengeance in his heart.
It was a subtle coolness that the atmosphere carried, leaking in through the barn’s ajar door. After rubbing his eyes, it was through this that Remus spotted Violet — sitting stationary, and staring up at a starry sky.
Stretching, it didn’t take him long to join her.
“Trouble sleeping?” He asked, taking a seat by her, and gazing above at a strange constellation.
Violet nodded, hugging her knees.
Two words, and the awkward silence Remus had been dreading finally confronted him. The two shifted uneasily where they sat, finding the activity of twiddling their thumbs far more enjoyable than confronting the ginormous elephant in the room.
Inevitably, Violet sighed. “I could run away.”
“What?” Remus spun on her. “Why?”
“I don’t belong here Remus. I’m an Unbounded!” Violet glanced back and forth, noting that she may have spoken a little too loudly. “It's not right for me to stay here, while my kin are regularly invading this clan every other day.”
“You kin? No, Violet, you’re not like them.”
Her features were seized by a rush of emotions. “Veida would have to argue with you on that front . . .”
“She doesn’t know you.”
“Do you even know me?” She challenged. “I’m not Violet, am I? Just some fiend that took her form. How, I doubt even the gods would know, but it's true.”
The conversation was only going in circles; Remus was going to start pulling his hair out, if this maddening roulette dragged on any longer.
“I don’t care. Where would you even go? I mean, at least think this through first.”
Violet’s silence exposed the abruptness of her decision. She exhaled, refraining from any hasty retorts. The stiff quietude returned, and Remus gazed around the cobbled pathways of the Ambition Sect, admiring the peaks that guarded the clan at all angles. Apparently not enough to ward off trespassers, he thought sourly.
It was so obvious to Remus, to an almost painful degree, that Violet was far separated from the likes of the Unbounded. The same fiends that sought nothing but destruction. To cast away the natural order of things, building the Mortal Realms from the ground up like a phoenix from the ashes. Only this phoenix was rotten to the core, imbedded with a divine justice no line of human logic could understand. Violet, on the other hand, was just trying to fend for herself. How could she not see the tremendous contrast?
“Stay and fight for the Ambition Sect.” Remus urged, an idea suddenly sparking in his fatigued mind. “If I can’t make it clear to you, prove to yourself that you’re not like the other Unbounded, by actively opposing them.”
She mumbled under her breath, sped through a second array of expressions, before finally dropping her shoulders. “Fine. I just need time to think.”
Falsely assuming that was the end of it, Remus got up to retire back to his makeshift bedside, when Violet spoke again. “How’s your hand? I heard the three of you discussing it earlier.”
He glowered. “Just how long have you been up?”
Violet shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Unbounded need less sleep than mortals. Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. And the hand’s fine. Thanks for asking.”
The conversation was dropped, but Remus’ concern would linger for hours longer. After only just slipping his way out of a lethal altercation, his new home was perhaps in a state far worse than the Carpentry Sect. The faces of Damion, Andreas, his mother and father, the rest of his sect fighting tooth and claw for every additional Passing they could survive . . . it all weighed on his mind. A hidden, but always present vision he would carry with him for the rest of his days, it would seem.
Or, until he gained means of supporting them himself. But that prospect appeared more and more distant, as the miles he gained away from First Rite grew. Despite the progress the last Spring had bore, Remus’ journey was an almost tangible staircase, soaring into the heavens — a staircase he felt to have only ascended the first initial steps of.
The Ambition Clan, and the Carpentry Sect. Were both of them counting away their final days? And then there was the matter of Violet, of what on earth the Unbounded were up to, taking over an entire clan with barely a few people’s notice.
For the second time that night, Remus let the living world escape him — a sickly feeling arising in the pit of his stomach.
Dark days are ahead, he couldn’t help but think, a brewing darkness draining his mind of any thought. Dark days indeed.