Chapter 209: To Be Your Friend

Stryg sighed, “What do you want?”

“To be your friend,” Sylvie admitted.

He narrowed his lilac eyes, “I thought I already made it clear, I don’t want to be your friend.”

“I know, bu-”

“Then why are you here?”

Sylvie bit her lip, “I’ve been hanging out a lot with your friends recently. They’re all really fun to hang out with, even Freya, and she’s mean half the time. When I’m with them I think to myself, ‘Wow. This is what it must be like to have friends, to be a part of something bigger than myself...’ I really like this school and I really like our friends.”

“Good for you, now leave me alone,” Stryg closed his eyes.

She smiled weakly, “The thing is, it feels like something is missing. Whenever the gang is hanging out there’s always a dark spot in the room, something that is left unsaid, but everyone understands and keeps quiet, everyone but me. I didn’t get it. Until I realized the missing piece was you.”

No, I’m not the one they’re missing, Stryg thought miserably.

“I heard from Kitty,” Sylvie said. “That you used to drink with her at some tavern all the time, but now she rarely sees you. The others have similar stories, no one really sees you anymore. I didn’t want to bother you, I know your business isn’t my own.”

Then why do you keep bothering me? he thought.

“But we share the same friends now,” she said. “All I want is for everyone to be happy. What I’m trying to say is, I think they’re all worried about you, except maybe Freya, I don’t think she worries about anyone.”

You’re wrong. They’re not worried about me, he thought.

“So, I, uh, wanted to see if there’s anything I can help with. How’s the saying go? ‘The friend of my friend is my friend?’” Sylvie winked. “Callum told me you’re training for the Great Cities Tourney. I could help you train? I’m actually well versed in duels, my parents made me practice a lot when I was a kid. I’m also a grey mage like you, so we can swap spells and give each other pointers too... I just want to help, if you want me to.”

“...Why are you doing all of this? I doubt the others asked you to,” Stryg muttered.

“They didn’t,” she admitted. “But growing up I wish I had someone who would have been there for me when I was struggling. So many people in the academy say to stay away from you, that you’re a bad person, but I think maybe they're wrong. I think hybrids are misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood?”

Memories of his childhood flashed in his mind, the names, the ridicules, the beatings he had suffered, all because he was different, the odd goblin.

“Yeah,” Sylvie nodded. “I know we look different than others. You have no idea how many times I wish I was smaller, not the freakishly tall girl, even when I was a kid. I would have given anything to be small. But I can’t. We’re stuck with who we are and I don’t think that’s a bad thing, not really, because we get to choose who we want to be.”

Stryg stayed quiet and kept his eyes closed.

Sylvie cleared her throat, “I didn’t have friends growing up. I didn’t have siblings either. I was alone. But I’m not anymore and that’s my choice. So I’m putting myself out here, asking you, from one vampire-human hybrid to a drow-goblin hybrid, do you want to be my friend?”

“Drow hybrid…?” he mumbled with a frown.

“I know we don’t really know each other, but isn’t that how all friendships start?” Sylvie laughed awkwardly. “Kitty told me that you used to fight with another friend of yours often, but then you two became best friends. I was hoping maybe we could be like that or something?”

Stryg’s eyes shot open, his fist lashed out. Sylvie’s aurum aegis flared to life, bronze light particles condensing around the attack and shielding her from danger.

Sylvie jumped back, surprised, “What was that for!?”

Stryg sauntered to his feet, “You think you can just walk into this academy with your idiotic giddy personality and replace Clypeus!? That we will all simply accept you as his replacement?!”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant at all,” Sylvie shook her head, panicked.

“You will NEVER replace Clypeus!” Stryg roared. “Clypeus was the best of us.”

“Was?” Sylvie stiffened. “I… I didn’t know he…”

Stryg held back his tears and glared at her, “He was a true friend, he didn’t try to force his friendship on others just to feel good about himself.”

“That isn’t what I’m trying to do,” Sylvie’s voice cracked.

Stryg stuck out his finger and pointed at her face, “No, you’re just some stupid dire girl, with her head stuck so high up in the clouds that she can’t even see no one fucking wants you! Kegrog is simply friendly to everyone. Freya doesn’t like anyone. And Callum likes to fuck tall women, that’s it, he doesn't actually care about who you are. But Kitty loves Callum, which means she probably hates you! And if I wasn’t clear enough before, I do not want to be your damn friend!”

Sylvie’s bottom lip trembled, tears slipped down her brown cheeks. She wiped away her tears and swallowed hard, “...I guess the rumors were right, I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Do you think I care about what they think?” Stryg snarled. “Do you think I care about what any of those cowards think!?”

A knock rang on the door. Feli’s purple hair popped out through the doorway.

“Um, am I interrupting something?” she asked.

“Feli? What are you doing here?” Stryg asked, surprised.

Feli frowned, “Are you serious? Have you really forgotten?”

“Forgotten what?”

“This is exactly why I came to get you,” Feli groaned. “Today’s the new moon, remember? We’re going to celebrate at the Merry Crescent tavern.”

“Oh… yeah, sorry about that,” he winced.

“Who’s this by the way? New friend?” Feli asked. “Wow, you’re tall.”

Sylvie sniffed, “I was just leaving, actually. Excuse me.”

Feli stepped aside, the dire hybrid walked by and left.

“Sooo, should I ask what that was about?” Feli said.

“I rather you didn’t,” Stryg sighed.

~~~

“32, 33… 34,” Rhian mumbled.

Lysaila pulled her hood tighter over her head. She really didn’t want to be out here in front of this stupid gate with this stupid centaur and all these stupid students walking by.

“Hey,” Rhian nudged her shoulder. “Do you wanna know what I’m counting?”

“Not at all,” Lysaila muttered.

“Come on, aren’t you a little bit curious?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I’ll tell you anyway,” Rhian said. “I’m counting the number of times people walking by notice your tail hanging out from below your cloak, freak out, and run away.”

“You’re telling me this, why exactly?” Lysaila grumbled.

“You know, I bet if you just took off that hood people wouldn’t be so scared of you. You’re really pretty. You could just win them all over with a smile.”

“Why in all the bloody realms would I want to win over any of these idiots?” Lysaila hissed.

“Because it’s better to have people like you rather than be scared of you?”

“Wrong. Fear is always the stronger tool for leadership. History has proven rulers who are feared reign longer and are attacked less often by rival kingdoms.”

Rhian cocked her head to the side, “Who said anything about rulers? I was talking about friends.”

Lysaila wished the amber gods would just send a lightning bolt to put her out of her misery already. “You think these people, these chromatic species, are your friends?”

“Well, not all of them. But I’ve made a few friends, it was hard, but I did it all by myself,” Rhian smiled proudly.

“I knew you were stupid, I just didn’t realize you were this stupid,” Lysaila rolled her indigo eyes.

Rhian frowned, “I know I’m not the smartest centaur in the world, but I’m not stupid. Everyone needs friends, even someone as tough as you. If people are scared of you, they don’t want to be your friend. I know you don’t like me, I don’t think you like anyone really, but I like you. As far as I’m concerned you’re a part of Ebon Hollow, just like me. So even if you hate me, I’ll have your back lil sis.”

Lysaila looked up at the centaur, confused. She always thought this centaur was just a goofy idiot. Now she realized she was incredibly naive and an idiot.

“What makes you think I’m younger than you?” Lysaila raised an eyebrow. “How old are you anyway? 22, 23?”

Rhian lifted her fingers and began counting quietly to herself, “Let’s see… I’m, uh... 18. Yup, that’s right, 18 and three quarters.”

Lysaila glanced at the centaur’s large bust, “You’re only 18?”

“And three quarters.” Rhian lifted Lysaila’s hood, “Hmm, let me guess, you’re 16?”

“I’m 38.”

“What the fuck? You’re older than Maximus! But you look younger than me?”

“Lamias have a longer lifespan than centaurs,” Lysaila said. “We stay youthful for a longer period of time, all for the sake of fighting efficiency.”

“Fighting efficiency?” Rhian furrowed her brow.

“We were all made for war, Rhiannon,” she said bitterly. “All of us were created to serve our masters the Mortem in any way they desired. Don’t you get that?”

“I’ve heard some stories,” Rhian mumbled. “But just because beast-kin were made for battle, doesn’t mean we have to follow that order. I’m a show-horse, I like to entertain people, not fight them.”

Lysaila laughed darkly, “Right because that’s what beast-kin escaped the Scarlet Realm for, to live freely in whatever way they want. All beast-kin must be living in paradise by now. Oh, wait, that’s not what happened, you’re kind was captured and enslaved. You may not wear a collar, but you have an owner like all the others.”

Rhian shook her head, “Beast-kin in the Ebon Realm aren’t slaves. We are pets, or oftentimes beasts of burden, sometimes soldiers, but we are not slaves.”

“Oh my gods! Do you hear yourself? Pets? You’re not an animal Rhian.”

“Stryg says we’re all animals.”

“Of course the Mortem would say something so ridiculous. They’re all monsters! The truth is... you're just Stryg’s slave.”

“I’m not Stryg’s slave,” Rhian said sternly.

“Then why do you call him master?”

Rhian tilted her head, “All beast-kin are trained to call the one who buys them ‘master.’ Stryg told me at some point that I don’t have to call him that though.”

“Then why do you still call him master?”

“Out of habit, I guess… A lot of people call others ‘master.’”

“Maybe when that person is their teacher or their lord. Stryg is neither to you.”

“Stryg is the chieftain of Ebon Hollow, he might as well be the master of our House,” Rhian crossed her arms.

“Then tell me this. If you wanted to leave Ebon Hollow, Hollow Shade, Dusk Valley itself, right now, would Stryg let you?”

“Yeah, of course,” Rhian chuckled. “I’m free to do what I want, Stryg respects my choice whatever that may be. I don’t want to leave, though.”

“Really? And why is that?”

“Well, because I like my life here. Stryg and Feli are my family, I love them. Why would I want to leave the people I love?”

“Yeah, you must have it all figured out, huh?” Lysaila nodded. “Except one little thing. We’re beast-kin, we’re not free. Our ancestors thought they could be free when they left the Scarlet Realm, but the truth is none of us are ever free. We aren’t like any of the people walking by. We were born cursed, our sole purpose of existence is to serve. We might as well be puppets of flesh and bone.”

“You know, you’re really morbid sometimes. You should relax,” Rhian patted her back. “I’ll buy you a drink when we get to the tavern.”

“You little…” Lysaila stopped and took a deep breath. “Tell me, did Stryg ever tell you to stay? That he wanted you to not leave him?”

“Um, yeah, I guess? I am part of his tribe after all. Plus, I think he has some abandonment issues,” Rhian admitted. “But if I really wanted to leave he’d respect my decision.”

“Would he? Then why don’t you leave?”

“I told you already, I don’t want to.”

“Or does Stryg not want you to?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Rhian frowned.

“I’m saying your thoughts aren’t your own,” Lysaila pointed at her head. “Stryg is a Mortem mage. He can influence our thoughts, control our very mind and body with a single word. If he doesn’t want you to leave, then you wouldn’t want to either. You have no choice in the matter, you’re just a reflection of his desires and you don’t even realize it.”

“That isn’t true! Unlike you, my mind is my own. Stryg’s words don’t have any compulsion over me.”

“So you’re telling me you never felt anything weird when Stryg talked to you? Never? Not even once?”

“Uh...” Rhian faltered.

“And there it is,” Lysaila scoffed.

Rhian shook her head, “It wasn’t like that. Stryg was in danger and I -”

“You felt a need to protect him, no matter the cost?”

Rhian paled, “How did you know?”

“The Prime Edict are a set of spells entwined into our very being by the Mortem Order. One of the Edict’s main purposes is to ensure the protection of the Mortem. The moment Stryg was placed in danger the Prime Edict within you activated and you went into a hyper-focused state of mind in order to protect your master.”

“No, that’s not what happened,” Rhian mumbled uncertainly.

Lysaila pointed at her chest, “You think you love Stryg? You don’t. Love cannot be bought, it cannot be taken, it can only be freely given. And you, Rhiannon, are not free.”

Tears welled in the corner of Rhian’s eyes, she glared at Lysaila, “Yes. I. Am.”

The twin heartbeats rang in Lysaila’s ears. The unique sound was easy for her to pick up even in a crowd. Lysaila turned to the front gate. Stryg walked out, Feli right behind him.

“Rhian? Why is everyone crying today?” Feli asked, exasperated.

Stryg glanced at Rhian’s sad expression and at Lysaila, “What did you do to Rhiannon?”

“Nothing,” Lysaila sneered.

Stryg’s pupils shrunk to thin blades, “Down.”

Lysaila’s body dropped to the floor with a hard thud. She grimaced and tried to stand, to no avail.

“What did you do to Rhiannon?” Stryg asked, his voice hard as steel. Whatever trace of warmth in his countenance was gone.

Lysaila glanced up at him from the cobblestone floor. “Nothing, you bastard,” she hissed.

“Stop breathing,” Stryg said apathetically.

Lysaila’s eyes widened as her lungs exhaled and her throat constricted tight. She clutched at her neck, gasping helplessly.

“I tolerate you because of our strange bond,” Stryg placed his foot over Lysaila’s chest. “But if you fucking lay a finger on my Rhiannon I will not hesitate to protect my tribe.”

Lysaila’s face grew red, her eyes darted around wildly. Stryg leaned forward and put pressure on his foot, Lysaila’s sternum creaked with strain. She sputtered wordlessly.

“Stop! Stop it!” Rhian screamed.

Stryg looked up at her, surprised. “What?”

“Get off her, now!” Rhian stomped the floor.

Stryg stepped back, an expression of confusion etched on his face. “Breathe,” he muttered.

Lysaila gasped weakly and took a sharp breath. Rhian rushed to her side and helped her up.

“What’s going on here?” Stryg asked.

“Why would you do that?” Rhian mumbled. “Lysaila didn’t hurt me.”

“I thought she made you cry,” Stryg frowned.

“She didn’t hurt me! And you almost killed her!” Rhian cried.

“I… I didn’t,” Stryg mumbled.

“I... told you, Rhian…” Lysaila coughed and rubbed her neck. “...They’re all monsters.”

Feli stepped in between them, “It was a mistake, Rhian, a misunderstanding.”

“No, this was a mistake,” Stryg said. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m going back to the dome. I need to train.”

“But what about your birthday?” Feli bit her lip.

“I didn’t celebrate my birthday for 18 years. My 20th doesn’t have to be any different.” Stryg walked away.

“But I worked so hard on planning it,” Feli whispered.

Rhian rubbed her eyes and stood up tall, “...Then we’re going.”

“Huh?” Feli asked.

“Stryyyg!” Rhian screamed. “Are you a Sylvan folk or not!?”

Stryg stopped walking, turned back, and glared at her, “Was it that supposed to mean?”

“You told me Sylvan folk are honorable!” Rhian galloped up to him. “Feli set up your birthday for you. And you were going to leave anyway? Where is the honor in that? Are you a monster or are you the chieftain of Ebon Hollow?”

Stryg blinked and glanced at Feli, she smiled weakly.

He looked away, “Sorry, Feli... and thank you, for everything.”

“Apology accepted,” Feli smiled wryly.

“So are you coming or not?” Rhian asked.

“I could use a break…” He sighed with a smile, “Lead the way.”

Rhian smiled and nodded to herself. I know you’re not the monster Lysaila says you are. I’ll prove it, no matter what.