A piece of parchment that I had previously not noticed unfolded in Vale hand into something as big as a town notice board, sticking itself to the leftmost shining crystal pillar like skin to bone. I felt awestruck by the mystical nature of it for a second before my eyes were given time to scan the glowing red words that had arranged themselves in ink upon it.

The heading in complete transparency stated “Blood Rite pairings.” In big bright red letters with an underline meant to emphasise their importance. My heart began to bang in my ears like a war drum and I could feel slight quivers resonate through my body as my eyes traced down the script.

Name after name, some I knew, most I didn’t pass my retina till they stopped, made blank with an indescribable emotion. Like a pin drop, I felt like the world had gone asunder. Everything around me phased out of sight, all blurring into one as the banging in my ears turned to a soft but ever increasing ringing.

…

“Vannis - Grisile”

This had to be a joke, a sick ruse. The parchment was lying, it couldn’t have been true. Anyone, anyone but him would’ve had me at least a little hopeful. So why?

Why?

WHY?!

…

No answer would come, I was owed nothing. No helping hand would be extended, for in this place generosity was nothing but a sweet lie. No remedy would come, this was soley my problem to deal with.

I would’ve dropped to my knees gasping for breath had my body not retained it’s usual apathy towards intense emotions. The only thing that shined in my darken, collapsed senses was the river of Ichor that cradled me at every waking moment. Three days had passed since I’d first felt it’s embrace and delved through Qixi’s notebook.

N-not… not… yet, it’s n-not over… y-yet.

While I couldn’t see his Ichor, I could tell from the way he fought that he didn’t have the ability to control it yet. All of his fight’s depended not on overwhelming physical ability but sheer skill and his proud nature wouldn’t allow the Fangless to hold back, especially since he was a Sanguine. It was a sacred matter of honour and respect.

But… that can’t be enough, it won’t be enough.

Spending every morsel of my free time for the past three nights using and then resting my Arcana it’s precision had grown by leaps and bounds along with the amount of time I could use it before succumbing to exhaustion; so I knew. Three more nights were not enough, not even close.

That gap was too big, so much so that it felt insurmountable.

“Vannis can you read it?” a voice asked, breaking through my hysteria.

A shriveled and shy version of the otherwise normal Delphine stood behind me, eye’s scrutinising at the expanded parchment trying to decipher meaning from it. Could she not…

“Y-yes.”

“What does it say? Could you tell me who’s against Kell, I’m sure he’d like to know.”

Using it as a distraction I searched down the list. Ah, Hugh… the stout man, a couple of people down with scrubby black hair and dead set eyes, who I had heard in passing prattle on about being from a prestigious family of well known knights. Most of what I gathered about him made it seem as though the man desperately desired to be both intimidating and respected when his actual strength of character was quite shallow.

“The one over there.” I said, pointing him out to Delphine. My nose scrunched just looking in his direction.

The man smelled atrocious, even from here.

She didn’t say anything but there was a visibly moment of relief, hearing the muscles of her body go tense to loose in the span of a couple seconds. I could understand how she felt, better a stranger than a brother. In a desolate situation like this one grasping onto any source of hope was the only way to escape. My Arcana and Ichor were the same in that sense, the only rope that wouldn't snap under the weight of my own hopelessness.

“And me, can you see who I’ve been paired with.”

“One moment.”

More perusing ensued, finding Delphine’s name close to the bottom like my own. Xeri. This was bad. Although she wasn’t as noticeable as the Sanguine, the vexing vixen made it her business to insult and attack any she thought weaker than her. Worst thing was, her wicked confidence wasn’t without merit.

After all, I only knew about her because the few times I’d talked to Kell, he would constantly bring it up.

“So who is it!” Delphine insisted, caught up by worry again for her own sake this time no doubt.

“I’m trying to-”

“Greetings, mutt.” A voice from behind and slightly above interrupted before I could assure Delphine.

A deep shadow suddenly loomed over me, causing a realisation that the previously in order line of Fangless had broken apart after the Parchment could be read. Some asked others to read it for them, most understanding at least their own name and a few like myself having a complete grasp of who was who. I was a little surprised Vale allowed for this, maybe he had become more lenient.

A hand made its way onto my shoulder, feeling like an anvil and reminding me of the fear I had for a few moments forgotten.

“Seems that fate won’t let a disgusting thing like you be. I had originally planned to leave a wretched cripple like yourself to crumple under your own weakness, no good to me after all.” Grisile spoke with so much conviction that was only betrayed by the slight tremble in his voice. “Seem’s Zena was right though, you’re not but a mutt doomed to die a dog’s death.”

He stood behind me in the clothes of a Fangless with a solemn expression of annoyance. It seemed he was genuinely incensed by being forced to fight me for the right to live, how quaint. Neither my legs nor my arms made even the tiniest of movements under his gaze, only my eyes that were stuck between an intense desire to look away and a burning curiosity to learn anything about my opponent that could be a possible weakness to exploit.

Yet looking at him was similar to staring into a pompous stone wall. He was filled with self-importance and arrogance but didn’t fail to conceal anything that might be used against him. Powerful, skilled and perceptive to boot.

I’m so fucked.

“Leave him be, you self righteous asshole!” Delphine shouted, giving Grisile a hearty push away from me.

“A mixed breed standing up for a stray, a fitting union.” He said completely unperturbed by Delphine’s shove.

“At least I don’t get sick kicks bullying those smaller than me while writhing in my own self imposed greatness.”

“Oh! Mixed and illiterate to boot, precious and revolting thing you are.”

Grisile stood back a bit, showing little to no interest in challenging Delphine’s provocation. He seemed so completely sure of himself that anything other than an outright challenge wouldn’t bother his temperament, another admirable quality. If he felt any sort of outrage or annoyance towards my Blood sister, he hid it perfectly.

“Please endeavour to scrape up what meagre ability you can in the short time before I rid this sacred place of a tainted stray. A terrible opponent won’t allow me to show off what Lord Vale has so graciously taught me, and we can’t have that.” He said turning around and heading towards the exit now that our combat lesson had ended.

After confirming who their pairing was most filed out either nervous or filled with relief in the coming minutes, ready for their next lesson. I, however, was stopped before I could make it out the door by a call that came from the centre of the room.

“Vannis, Zena. you two will be staying behind, my associates have already been informed so don’t worry about seeming tardy.”

What? Why!? I need to maximise as much time as possible perfecting my Ichor control.

Although I felt an abundance of annoyance and impatience I didn’t dare defy his order, casually strolling back to one of the crystal pillars and resuming a neutral position. That was until the stray thought that I might’ve done something wrong crossed my mind, causing a nervous tapping from my foot as paranoia and fear took hold.

Icy blue eyes peered at me curiously from the opposite pillar, the Sanguine Zena seemingly raising her eyebrow in apparent confusion, just as lost as to why Vale had kept us back. I shrugged internally being just as clueless as her.

Vale moved around the room, collecting three identical bastard swords from their respective weapons racks before grabbing his piece of parchment from the depression in the wall and pocketing it.

“Would you both calm down, by the Fall I’m not some looming god of punishment that only requests an audience when you do something wrong.” he huffed, relieving me a little but making me all the more curious.

“Lord Vale, if it isn’t to scold or punish then why have I been kept, especially with the stray. I see no relation between us.” Zena said in a straightforward manner, her voice oozing with discontent at the thought of having something in common with myself.

Vale didn’t reply immediately, looking both me and her up and down in a manner of inspection that made my bones shiver, so close to the way farmers would view their livestock. His black cleanly sewn tunic and brown leather pants swayed a little as he stood like a statue as if there was a breeze coming through the deep we resided in.

“No, I’m sure you don’t. It’s actually quite amusing how neither of you can tell such a blatant discrepancy between you and your peers.” He chuckled in his hearty yet rough voice, the long tail of hair swaying as his body moved through the humous motions.

“Lord Vale, may I inquire what mysterious thing separates us from the others?”

“Oh, I’m sure you both know.” He smiled in response to her question, something that unsettled me further for some reason

“In one moment the world looked normal and in the next, it was brighter. In one instance, a flat, rough and immovable stone of fact and in the next a clear, smooth and ever swaying canvas of possibility. You’re both aware of your Ichor, aren’t you?”

“So… that is what it’s called? Ichor…” Zena replied, lost in her own dumbfounded it seemed, or merely just mulling over what Vale said.

Thanks to Qixi and his book I already knew most of the basics but it appeared that Vale was unaware of how I had become this way, only that I was able to manipulate Ichor now. Intriguing. Could he see or tell? At a glance I could guess whether Fangless was using Ichor or not because I understood the baseline of their strength and could compare it to what they produced, knowing at the very least if they were capable of producing enhancement magic.

To actually see their Ichor and identify whether they could move it or not though?

I’m completely blind in that department. I know it’s there for someone like Vale because it’s so thick it might crush me but for someone beginning, I haven’t a clue.

“Can you see ours, Lord Vale?” I asked dying to know.

Instead of a response, Vale just gave a slight smile before throwing one bastard to both me and Zena, which we both instinctively caught mid-flight. The gripe was encased in some kind of leather or animal skin and the blade itself gave a hell of a lot more resistance than the dagger’s Delphine helped me practice with. Funny enough the extra weight actually felt a better fit in my hands than the slim daggers that required such agile movement. That said, something smaller than a bastard sword I felt would suit me better. Frankly compared to my body the thing was just too big, though that, by and large, was my fault for being small.

“What is this Lord Vale, do you expect me to fight the stray?” Zena asked, eyes luring over to me with the bloodlust of a predator.

“Ha, no. The only fighting you’ll be doing against Fangless is tomorrow young lady. Speaking of which, as tradition dictates you have a right to know that the Blood Rite will start at the next break of night.”

What?! You’ve got to be kidding me, Sol my luck couldn’t be more dreadful.

Both me and Zena took the information strikingly differently. She maintained an air of high pedigree and nonchalant while I began to sweat buckets, wanting to be out of this place even more now that my time for preparation had dwindled so greatly.

That said, my body always maintained a level of bliss, which was getting more helpful by the second. Whatever it was that made my body so apathetic, it was working wonders so far.

“You both give very dull responses to learning you’ll be staking your lives tomorrow and that you’ve been lied to this whole time. Luckily I don’t find entertainment in suffering.” Vale noted, perhaps trying to hide the hint of disappointment his tone betrayed.

“Mother and father always said that the Blood Rite was mostly about strength but festered with the usual undead trickery,” Zena spoke in reply.

“What about you Vannis, I’d imagined that you out of anyone would find this news appalling.”

“I take every word any of you have spoken since I knew this was real with a grain of salt,” I replied, lying through my teeth.

I could’ve sworn I saw a trace of approval in Vale’s eye before he picked up his own bastard sword, beckoning both of us forward with a grin.

“Regardless, any Fangless who can perceive their own Ichor are awarded a more personal lesson before the Blood Rite. Think of it like an acknowledgement of your achievement.