Yuriko bolted upright as the morning sun hit her eyes. She rolled off her bed, barely sleeping a wink the night before. Despite knowing the Ritual would only happen at dusk, excitement filled her as she bounded to the bathroom to get ready. “Chaos!” she cursed, sucking her breath in sharply when she stubbed her toe on her desk. She hobbled to the sink to wash the night’s sweat off her face. Thankfully, she had long since moved out of the children’s bedroom or her brothers would have laughed their heads off at her clumsiness. She rushed through her morning ablutions, tearing her pyjamas off and changing her underclothing. This morning, she and her father would head to the outposts for a bit of marksmanship training. All the better to receive the proper Heritage during the ritual. Yuriko chose her attire accordingly: soft padded pants and a short blue jacket made of forceweave. The Wyldlings that often invaded Rumiga, the plane her family currently live on, made blunt force and light energy attacks. Both materials did well against them. A quick lick of the brush tamed her bed hair enough that her golden locks kept away from her pale blue eyes. It was all she could be bothered with, at least for the moment. She took off at a run, leaving the door to her room ajar, and slid down the bannister all the way down to the living room. Yuriko leapt off before she hit the stair post, neatly landing on her feet but nearly colliding with her older brother, Kato. "Watch it!" he yelled, jumping back and spilling some of the lavan juice in his glass. The purple liquid splashed on his jacket, rolling in little beads until they dribbled down to the wooden floorboards. "Ancestors, little kitten! I know it's Ritual day but can you keep your calm enough not to run over everything?" "Like you weren't the same three years ago!" Yuriko shot back, though she walked noticeably slower on the way to the kitchen. At sixteen, Kato was tall and gangly, but a strict regimen of strength and endurance training filled out his lanky frame with wiry muscles. His hair was darker than Yuriko’s and he towered head and shoulders over her. She snorted in annoyance. A few years ago, she was nearly as tall as Kato but his growth spurt overshot her, and even their eldest brother, Marron. Kato patted her shoulders. “You’ll get it later.” “I’m sure I will,” she answered with supreme confidence. Heritages ran in families, hence the name, but not all children received the Heritage they wanted. A cold hand grabbed her belly, grasping and twisting until Yuriko’s own hands trembled. With a deep breath, she struggled to push her fears back into the closet where they came from. She would receive the Heritage she wanted; she’d been preparing for it all this time. She entered the kitchen and found her father seated on a stool at the kitchen island, eating a piece of bread topped with cheese while reading the morning pamphlet. “Good morning, Da,” Yuriko said after a deep, calming breath. Virgil looked up from the paper, plopped down the sandwich on a plate and smiled. “Morning Yuri, Kato.” Her brother, who stood right behind her, gave her a small nudge to get out of the way. “You’re wide enough to block the door,” he snorted. “Am not.” Yuriko retorted immediately, though she did give way. She grabbed a couple of slices of bread, took some of the pungent yellow cheese from the platter next to the bread, and put it in between the pieces of bread. She opted to drink water instead of the sweet lavan juice, or the bitter kaf that Da preferred in the mornings. “Nervous?” Virgil asked. “No, Da,” Yuriko said. Her voice was sure and steady, masking the trepidation that gnawed at her. “Of course not,” Virgil smiled, “Not my brave little girl.” “I’m not little anymore,” Yuriko said through gritted teeth. It had always been this way. Because she was the Davar family’s only daughter, her parents never held her up to the same standards as her brothers. Her younger brother, Rami, had begun training relatively early while Yuriko continued to languish with the Empire sponsored general education modules. She had taken great pains to convince her parents to let her train to receive the Davar Heritage instead of her mother’s Mishala Heritage. The Mishala Heritage wasn’t bad, just that its focus wasn’t to her liking. After all, who would prefer a stodgy Heritage focused around controlling Animus over a Heritage focused on long-ranged sniping and general marksmanship? Plus, if she wanted to join the Imperial Legion Vagaris, as her Da did in his youth, she needed the Davar Heritage and would have to graduate from the Agaza Academy in Rumiga City. “Where are we going?” Yuriko asked after a moment of silence, her heart beating quickly with renewed excitement. “The Watchtower,” Virgil said casually, taking another sip from his mug of kaf. “Where Marron is?” Yuriko gasped. Marron was her eldest brother and currently a squad leader of Faron’s Crossing’s town militia. “Yes.” Virgil smiled. “There have been some sightings in the area. It’s the perfect place for you to practice.” ‘Of course,’ Yuriko thought with a bit of annoyance. ‘It’s a perfectly safe place to practice, shooting from the top of the tower with the tree line at least a longstride away.’ “Okay.” Her voice lost a great deal of enthusiasm and, for a moment, only the sounds of her, Kato, and Virgil eating and drinking could be heard. “Basics first.” Virgil took a long drink of kaf. “You’re not that accurate beyond five hundred paces, and the line’s at least twice that.” “Yes, Da,” Yuriko answered dutifully. He would know best after all. They finished their meal soon after and Virgil led Yuriko to the house armoury. The armoury was hidden under the stairs, behind a simple-looking closet. Virgil reached in, his arm out of sight, and a minute later, pulled out a couple of Plasma Casters with matching side-blades. The slightly shorter rifle was Yuriko’s though she had only handled the weapon for the past couple of years. It was two thirds as long as she was tall; the stock was made out of well-aged wood and the barrel, which made up most of the length of the rifle, had runic script carved on it. The forestock, where Yuriko’s left hand would grip to support the weapon, was inlaid with red jade studs along both sides. She strapped the side-blade on her belt, hooking it firmly to avoid it jostling at odd times. It would dig into her side painfully if she dropped prone but it was easy enough to shift out of the way. If she remembered to anyway. Yuriko made sure the safety lock was engaged then looped the strap of the rifle over her shoulders. It would not fire without her supplying it with Animus, but not all weapons made use of that refined energy; it was still best to practice basic safety. She was still a child, truly, unable to maximise the use of her Animus until she goes through the Atavism Ritual. But most children in the frontier were taught how to unlock the sleeping power within their souls as soon as they would be able to bear it. It was too dangerous to leave the Animus locked away otherwise. Wyldlings notwithstanding, sometimes Chaos storms swept through the frontier planes and those without even a smidgen of Animus found themselves either changed or simply dead. “See you tonight,” Kato called out over his window when father and daughter exited the homestead’s main door. He was in his third year in Agaza but he was currently on break. He’d likely spend the day with his friends as he always did. “Bye!” Yuriko yelled back with a small wave. Her father led her to the garage, bouncing a keychain holding several white jade keys in his palm. The vehicle he picked was a two-seater shuttle. It was long and narrow, with bird-like wings swept to the side. The shuttle had a maximum altitude of fifty paces though, at that height, forward propulsion was only at one-third optimum. Yuriko straddled the rear saddle, hooking the safety tether on her belt, while Virgil did the same and inserted a key into the handlebars. The wings were positioned between their seats. Yuriko positioned her feet on the base, avoiding the solar that gathered energy to help power the machine. Virgil turned the key and the engine came to life. His hands started glowing purple, the colour of his Animus, and it flowed into the handlebars through jade studs. They hovered above the garage floor just long enough for the landing studs to retract. In a moment, they were zooming out of the garage at about ten paces up above the ground. Yuriko could see Kato still waving at them and she was tempted to do the same, but she chose to keep a firm grip over her rifle and the shuttle’s handles instead. The sun was well above the Zarek Mountains at this point, its light warming Yuriko’s back. She could see Faron’s Crossing’s town centre just a couple of longstrides away. Their home was on the outer edge of the town centre, though they really should be closer considering Virgil’s role on the council. But no; the Davar Family preferred to have room enough to stretch. The Temple was at the centre of Faron’s Crossing. It was made of pink-veined marble with five spires that towered over the main building. No other structure was as tall as the temple, not for half a longstride anyway. It was there that she and other children her age will gather later afternoon for the Ritual, the ceremony that will determine her future. Gulping down to settle her nerves, Yuriko focused on their flight path. Virgil followed the gently twisting cobblestone road while they were within the town proper. There were few pedestrians this early in the day and few wheeled vehicles rumbled along, carrying the morning’s produce to market. She waved to Matron Rosie who was sweeping the leaves off her front porch. The woman waved back with a yell, “Good morning, Captain, little Yuri!” Virgil answered easily, “Morning!” It wasn’t long before their closest neighbour was too far away to see. Most of the homes in Faron’s Crossing were spread out, with ample room typically used as an orchard or garden. The little town had been founded about two decades ago and was about a hundred leagues west of the Planar Capital, eponymously named Rumiga. The rush of pioneers had stopped a decade ago, however, though a few continued to trickle in every few months. Soon they found themselves outside the town proper and well on their way to the Watchtower. The shuttle blocked out most of the wind of their passage, with Virgil’s broad back sheltering his daughter. Still, Yuriko squinted against the wind as her eyes danced around their surroundings, observing fields of crops, wheat, and barley alongside leafy vegetables of different colours that provided odd patches of brightness from the uniform yellow. Unlike at the town proper, where the cobblestone roads were laid out in a curving pattern, the roads outside followed the lay of the land and were made of wide slabs of rough stone. Out here, it was no longer completely safe. Sporadic Wyldling incursions were often stopped at the Watchtower but there was not enough militia to provide complete coverage. Still, the farmers of Faron’s Crossing started their day before the sun rose from the horizon. Some were tilling the fields, riding an Animus-charged contraption that turned the earth and sowed the seeds of quick-growing vegetables that would be ready to harvest in a few months. Half an hour later, the hill upon which the Watchtower stood was within sight. It was the highest point in the area for several longstrides around and surrounded by a few streams glittering with reflected light. The fortress loomed over a hundred paces high, a black edifice, squarish, with crenelations at the top and every ten paces down the middle. A perimeter wall, about ten paces high with a walkway that can easily allow two people to walk side by side, surrounded the tower. A sentry waved them through from atop the walls. The shuttle rose over the wall and landed on a flat slab of stone just past the gate. Yuriko got off the shuttle and stretched her arms above her head to relieve muscles knotted by staying in one position too long. She watched Virgil moor the shuttle on a post to the side of the landing stones next to several others floating a few inches off the ground. Then, she walked to the edge of the platform and jumped to the ground, green grass cushioning her landing from a drop that was over a pace in height. Yuriko scuffed her boots on the grass, rubbing her side where the handle of her side-blade had dug into her ribs from the abrupt movement. Virgil, on the other hand, walked around, choosing to use the stairs, an eyebrow raised in amusement at his daughter. Yuriko shrugged and moved her hand away from her side. To her credit, she remembered to brace the rifle properly, else the stock would have brained her silly. They followed the cobblestone path to the base of the tower where a couple of sentries stood. Faron’s Crossing militiamen wore an outfit similar to Yuriko’s save that the forceweave jacket was dyed green. The emblem of the town, a sickle crossed with a pistol behind a sheaf of wheat, was on a patch near the left shoulder. Both sentries appeared young, fresh out of the Academy. The young man and woman saluted by bringing a fist to their heart, the movement crisp and synchronous. Virgil nodded with approval. “At ease.” Virgil towered head and shoulders over the sentries, and Yuriko, despite her youth, was nearly as tall as the man. Both her mother and father were taller than the average Imperial citizen, and their children inherited that height. Yuriko nodded her greetings, flashing a nervous smile. “One, two, three, four!” A bunch of militiamen were jogging around the yard in full combat gear. “Salute!” The squad leader yelled as they approached Virgil and Yuriko. In unison, the varied young men and women, nearly a dozen strong, thumped their chests with their fists. The squad continued their run even as Virgil returned the salute. Yuriko nodded to them, too. Once they'd run past, a few of the men glanced back at her. This was the first time in years that she had stepped foot in the stronghold. The Watchtower, after all, was no place for small children. The sentries let them through the main doors and Virgil waved for Yuriko to enter ahead of him. “Inquisitor Gorlyn on the premises?” she heard him ask the sentry in a low tone. “No, sir, the Inquisitor joined the morning patrol.” The main door opened into a narrow corridor and, even though it was well lit by light panels on the ceiling, it still made Yuriko feel claustrophobic. She didn’t need to stretch her arms too far up for her hands to brush against the ceiling and she could easily reach both of the walls even without fully spreading her arms. The hallway curved and rose slightly enough that, after the two of them walked a few dozen paces, when she glanced back she could no longer see the entrance. It felt like they’d gone in a full circle by the time the corridor opened up to a wide hall which, Yuriko guessed, placed them about a floor above ground. There was a door on the opposite side of where they entered and one on either side as well as a spiralling staircase surrounding a slick-looking metal pole in the middle. ‘I wonder if that pole goes all the way up the top?’ Yuriko thought idly as a young man as tall as her father approached them. Like Virgil, the man had a square jaw with a cleft chin, hazel eyes, and sandy brown hair. “Captain.” Marron, Yuriko’s eldest brother, saluted with a fist to the heart. Virgil returned the salute, approval evident in his eyes. “Good morning, Maru,” Yuriko said with a smile after seeing her brother’s lips twitch. “Don’t call me that,” he muttered under his breath. “Why?” Her smile turned impish. Marron stepped forward until he was but a few inches away, staring down into Yuriko’s eyes. “It’s Squad Leader Davar now.” Yuriko poked Marron’s tummy, her finger sinking into the fabric and eliciting a grunt of protest. “Sure, whatever you say, Maru.” “Tsk.” He clicked his tongue while Virgil chuckled. “Anyway, what are you two here for...ah, the Atavism Ritual!” Marron stepped back and gave Yuriko a concerned look. “Are you sure about this?” Yuriko nodded solemnly. “Mother would be disappointed.” Yuriko’s boot hit Marron’s shin before he could react. “Ow!” “That was uncalled for,” Virgil said. “Either way, it’s what Little Yuri wants and we’ll try to tilt the odds in her favour. Just because you and Kato got the Davar Heritage doesn’t mean Yuriko will get it too. The training will be good for her either way,” he concluded with a grin. “She’s more likely to get Mother’s Heritage,” Marron observed while dodging another of Yuriko’s kicks. “Quit it.” “Hmph!” “Alright, alright,” he sighed. “Well, let’s go up the observation deck. You might see a target from there.” Remembering how high the tower was, Yuriko grimaced. “Is there a lift in this ancient place?” Marron smirked. “I’m afraid not, little sis. Old-fashioned stairs only. Unless you know how to fly...” He spun on his heels and led the way to the stairs, gesturing towards the steps once he was at the base. “I’m sure you want to spend as much time attuning, li’l sis, so go ahead.” Grumbling under her breath, Yuriko started up the stairs. Her brother and father followed leisurely behind. “Report.” “Twelve sightings from the tower, thirty by the patrols. Thirteen northwest, seventeen south. No casualties, twenty-five kills.” “Morning?” “Until midday.” “Quiet night?” “The full moon weakens the barriers. We heard a lot, but nothing concrete. Fog was too thick, even for the hawkeyes.” “You think some managed to slip past?” “It’s why the Inquisitor decided to join the patrol.” “Good decision.” Silence reigned but for Yuriko’s gasps for air. She leaned against the wall while the two men easily climbed past her. Marron smirked as he passed but Yuriko was too winded to kick him. Or even glare for that matter. In the years that passed since Virgil began training her for the Davar Heritage, she had spent most of her time learning to shoot. She should have been building up her endurance at the same time but, more often than not, Yuriko slacked off on taking morning runs. Now, she found herself paying for it. “Come on, Yuri. We’re almost halfway there,” Virgil called out. With another gasp, she grabbed the bannister and continued dragging herself up the flight of stairs. Ancestors help her. After what felt like an entire day, but was more likely only half an hour of climbing at most, Yuriko finally managed to reach the landing where the other two were waiting. The door leading out to the deck was ajar, letting in some sunlight. Yuriko felt life return to her limbs when she stepped out into the sun. Like her father and brother, her exposed skin was lightly tanned from constant exposure, though it would otherwise be as white as milk underneath her clothes. The glare briefly blinded her but her eyes adjusted. The view all the way back to Faron’s Crossing was breathtaking, but Marron nudged her after a moment’s reverie. They followed the length of the walkway, Yuriko running her palm along the crenulations on the nearly chest-high walls. The wall was cool to her touch, even though it had been soaking in the rays of the sun for a few hours now. Like the wings on their shuttle, the walls absorbed the sunlight and powered some of the Watchtower’s functions. When they crossed over to the other side of the tower, she couldn’t help but stare. The height they were at allowed Yuriko to see for leagues around. The ground behind them was lush and fertile. Green where the grass grew or golden where the wind bowed the wheat. To the west, the ground was dry, hard-packed earth. Three longstrides away were the Tidelands, a stretch of land that separated Rumiga from the Primordial Chaos. Distance in the Tidelands was strange. Some times, it only took a step from the edge to lead to its deepest reaches, and at other times, it took weeks of constant travel. Wyldlings came from the Tidelands and they wanted nothing more than to turn every inch of land back into Chaos. The air above the Tidelands was hazy, with streaks of bright colours. Reds and blues, greens, yellows, and violets, each shade blending into each other, interspersed with bright white light and deep shadow. “Look there.” Virgil pointed at a spot on the hard-packed earth. There were a bunch of straw pillars about two hundred paces from the perimeter wall. “Target posts.” Yuriko adjusted her rifle and was about to ready her aim when Virgil pushed the barrel down. “Not with that,” he said when Yuriko frowned, “save your Animus for later.” Marron handed her a training rifle, almost identical to the Plasma Caster in her hands except that this one used solid slugs and didn’t require the use of Animus. Such things weren’t useful against the Wyldlings, and of limited use to anyone who can freely control their Animus. “But--” Yuriko protested. “I know,” Virgil nodded towards the training rifle, “practice your aim with an inferior weapon first. The Heritage encompasses all ranged weapons, not just Plasma Casters.” Swallowing, Yuriko sighed and placed her Plasma Caster on a bench. The training rifle was heavier than her rifle and felt clumsy in her hand. She leaned on the wall, bracing her leg, and sighted along the barrel. At the moment, the target dummy was barely a smudge on the ground. The colour of the straw dummy was well-camouflaged against its surroundings, making the outline difficult to distinguish. “Focus your Animus in your eyes,” Virgil instructed as he stood beside Yuriko. “The first step is to see.” Taking a deep breath, Yuriko closed her eyes. The sun was blocked by the tower behind her though its shadow didn’t cover the target. There was a warmth inside her core that she sought, a little tongue of flame that flickered in time with her heartbeat. She coaxed a part of that flame out, willing it to move from her centre and up into her head. Minutes passed like hours while she mentally nudged at it until, finally, a mote of light detached from the main body. Bringing it up to her head, and then to her eyes was relatively simple. Just asking it to move was enough. ‘See further, see clearly.’ Her thoughts shouted out at the mote of light as it swirled around her right eye. The light expanded, and she felt her right eye heat up. When Yuriko opened her eye, she could clearly see the cracks in the ground but the straw target wasn’t in her field of vision. She opened her left eye, adjusted her aim, and, now, she could see the orange carrot at the centre of the dummy’s head. She inhaled then let out half of her breath. She was acutely aware of the beating of her heart. Th-thud. Th-thud. She released her remaining breath slowly then, between one heartbeat and the next, she pulled the trigger. Hsst! The rifle stock kicked hard against her shoulder, but her legs absorbed the recoil easily enough. The heat in her right eye had faded away and she could no longer see as clearly. She glanced at her father whose hazel eyes glowed purple while he used his Animus. His eyes met hers just as she was about to ask and he shook his head. “Three inches to the right. Aim at the core of the target next time, instead of the head.” “Ugh!” With a grunt of frustration, Yuriko returned to her firing position and closed her eyes to summon her Animus again. Why did she miss? She was sure she had lined up the shot perfectly. Perhaps the recoil moved her aim? Ugh, the rifle wouldn’t have jumped in her hand if it were powered by her Animus. With her frustration, it took longer to move the mote of light into her eye. When she was ready, she focused her aim on the centre of the dummy’s torso and, as she pulled the trigger, she focused on making sure that the muzzle didn’t move from the recoil. Hsst! “Good shot,” Virgil declared though he didn’t need to. Yuriko had seen some of the straw puff away as her bullet hit the torso. The shot wasn’t perfectly centred; just before the Animus faded from her eye she saw that the shot was actually three inches to the right of where she aimed. “Chaos!” she muttered in frustration. “Language, young lady!” Virgil grimaced. “Sorry, Da,” Yuriko muttered while she flushed; her cheeks, ears, and neck reddened as she looked down. ‘You curse just as badly,’ she thought rebelliously. “Do I need to scrub your mouth with soap?” Virgil asked mildly. “Your mother would do worse.” “No, Da.” Yuriko’s hair hid her eyes. She returned hastily to aiming. A few shots later, the bullet holes actually moved closer to the centre of the target. Unfortunately, her supply of Animus was almost depleted. Sweat streaked down her face and she used her sleeve to wipe it off. At some point in time, Virgil and Marron had left the observation area, telling her to meet them at the food hall when she was done. The sun was close to its zenith. Each time she used her Animus, it took precious minutes. Virgil and her brothers told her before that it would be different once she had gone through the Atavism Ritual and if she received the Davar Heritage. Then, any action that involved using a ranged weapon and destroying Wyldlings would be much easier. And faster, of course. Feeling wrung out, she grabbed her Plasma Caster and slung it over her shoulder. The training rifle she held onto. She was tempted to just leave it on the bench, but she knew she’d get one hell of a talking to from her brother, not to mention the disappointment she’d see in Virgil’s eyes for neglecting weapons. When she opened the door and stepped into the cooler tower interior, a young militiaman stood waiting. “M-miss Davar, Captain Davar instructed me to,” he stuttered when Yuriko stared at him, eyes flat with exhaustion. “Um, Captain Davar told me to guide you when you’re done.” He had green eyes and short-cropped hair that was about as red as his face. He looked like he was fresh out of the Academy, but Yuriko was tall enough that she only had to look up an inch to meet his eyes. “Er, I’ll take that, if you don’t mind.” He reached for the training rifle. “Oh, thank you.” He fidgeted for a couple of moments before he led Yuriko down the set of stairs and into a different corridor. Grgrr. The militiaman gave Yuriko an amused glance while she shrugged and said, “Hungry.” He flushed and looked away while Yurko frowned in puzzlement. ‘Is this the first time he’s ever seen a girl?’ That couldn’t be right. Eventually, she was led into a hall filled with the scent of roasted meat, frying oil, and aromatic herbs. Yuriko licked her lips as her tummy growled loudly. Virgil and Marron waved from a table near the service area and Yuriko hurried to them after a quick wave at the militiamen. Virgil pushed a plate heaping with sliced roast and a basket of dinner rolls. She was about to grab the food when Virgil coughed gestured towards the tray of hot towelettes and the small bowl of scented water. With a sigh, Yuriko scrubbed her hands on the nearly scalding cloth and dipped her fingers in the bowl before she grabbed the bread and transferred the beef onto her plate. Marron had his mouth full but that didn’t stop him from smirking. She ate quickly, with barely restrained grace. She ate enough to take the edge of her hunger and then, with a supreme act of will, she stopped. Yuriko sighed and pushed her plate away. “You’re a growing kid,” Marron continued to stuff more meat in his mouth. He chewed carefully then swallowed. “You need to put on more weight, you’re scrawny,” he continued with a pointed look that turned into a grimace of pain when she stomped on his toes. “As you will,” Virgil said with an indulgent smile. “Marron’s right though.” “I don’t want to become fat,” Yuriko muttered. “You won’t if you keep up with your training.” He piled up a few slices more of meat on Yuriko’s plate. “Eat, it will help you recover your Animus.” Yuriko sighed but ate the remaining slices quickly. “What are we doing next?” Virgil chewed noisily while he demolished his heaping plateful. “The Inquisitor sent back word that they’ve found tracks,” Marron answered. Yuriko’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Are we hunting?” She leaned back in her seat. “Do we have enough time?” She had to return to Faron’s Crossing before dusk otherwise she would miss the Ritual. It was an annual event held during the Ninety-First, the last day of the Season of Earth, under the silvery light of the full moon. Thirteen years old was the minimum age to attend the Ritual and she had her thirteenth birthday in the previous season. “We’ll go on a patrol,” Virgil decided. “If we don’t find a Wyldling, it's no loss.” “It could help shape her Heritage though,” Marron observed. “I managed to slay a Wyldling on my Ritual day. I got one from three hundred paces away.” Yuriko’s hands clenched under the table. “I hope we find one.” “It's up to the Threads of Fate,” Virgil said placidly. An hour later, father and daughter were riding their shuttle back towards Faron’s Crossing. The flame inside Yuriko had recovered somewhat, less than a third of what she had this morning. It was barely enough to power one shot of the Plasma Caster. “You have to use up all of your stored Animus before the Ritual.” Virgil reminded her. “While it wouldn’t be dangerous, any remnant can do strange things. Better be safely empty than hope for a wildcard.” A patrol pattern was projected on a screen in front of Virgil on the shuttle. Yuriko craned her neck to look around her father’s bulk. If she read it right, they would be sweeping the nearby farms for a couple of hours before they head back. “Don’t focus on looking for Wyldlings,” Virgil said, “you don’t know what you’ll miss.” It wasn’t anything Virgil hadn’t said before so Yuriko answered absently, “Yes, Da.” For the next few minutes, she looked around vigilantly, her head swinging left, right, up, and down every few seconds. Virgil chuckled in front but didn’t say anything. After half an hour, Yuriko’s vigilance was rewarded--by a crick in her neck. ‘Next, Da will say something like patrolling is boring but necessary, and that I’d eventually get used to it.’ “You’ll get used to it, Yuri.” Virgil glanced back at her then turned his gaze towards the front, just as Yuriko rolled her eyes. “It’s when you’re bored during a patrol that things inevitably happen.” “Yes, Da,” she answered in a flat voice. The farmlands blended into each other and she couldn’t really tell where they were at the moment. Oh, there’s a field of wheat that looks much like that field of wheat over there, except this one was a bit longer on one edge than that perfect square over there. A lack of farmsteads due to the inherent danger of living away from town meant that there was little to break the monotony of the fields. Nearly every longstride from the town to the Watchtower had been converted to grainland and it was only the dirt and cobblestone paths between the fields differentiated the plots of land. Orchards were more common closer to Faron’s Crossing but the trees there weren’t that big compared to the ones in the Tidelands or even the unspoiled forests of the Shillogu Woods up north. The Zarek Mountain Range was to their right, which meant they were flying towards the north now. The sun was long past its zenith and was halfway down to sinking into the Tidelands’ mist. “There.” Virgil’s quiet voice cut through Yuriko’s musings. He was looking towards the mountains and, when Yuriko followed his gaze, she couldn’t really see anything. The shuttle slowed to a hover and turned around, presenting its port side to the mountains. Virgil’s dominant hand was his right and though Yuriko could use either hand equally well, she had copied his shooting form. “Do you see it?” The purple glow coming from Virgil’s eyes painted his cheeks luridly. “Where?” Yuriko gulped. “It’s nearly a league away.” “I can’t see that far, Da,” Yuriko muttered, exasperated. “Oh, you’re right.” Virgil sheepishly turned the shuttle towards the east; now and then, he adjusted the shuttle’s heading. Nearly ten minutes and four longstrides later, Yuriko could finally see… something. The figure was strolling down the wheat field. There was a wide trail of trampled grain that meandered to the southwest. The shuttle moved closer. By this time, Yuriko had managed to channel her Animus in her right eye and she could finally see more than a greyish blob. This particular Wyldling was large, maybe as wide as the shuttle. It was covered in greyish carapace and walked on its hind legs. It had two pairs of upper limbs, the lower set was slender with small hands while the upper set was thick and muscular and, instead of hands, they ended with a pair of scythe-like blades. Its head was almost comically small and shaped more like an ant’s head than a human’s. The Wyldling swung its scythe limbs and cut the unripe grain. Those scythes could easily reap lives should they foolishly come close enough. Virgil and Yuriko were approximately five hundred paces away and approaching from behind but, because of the Wyldling’s compound eyes, it had noticed them. The Wyldling froze for a moment then it roared. It was frighteningly fast, bounding dozens of paces in a few blinks of an eye. “Do you have a shot?” Virgil asked quietly. The Plasma Caster was already in Yuriko’s hands, barrel aimed at the Wyldling’s core. She pulled at the warmth inside her, channelling it down to her left hand and into the red jade studs on the forestock. As soon as a trickle the Animus seeped out of her palm the rifle sucked nearly everything out of her. The barrel lit up with golden light, but it trembled in Yuriko’s hands. She gritted her teeth, ignoring everything else but the monster she needed to kill, and empowering the weapon necessary to do it. It took two full breaths before her aim was steady and, at that point, the Wyldling had halved the distance between them. Th-thud. Th-thud. Click. She pulled the trigger. The Plasma Caster didn’t have a noticeable recoil but she felt the barrel tremble ever so slightly. A bolt of golden light flashed from the muzzle. It took less than a blink of the eye to reach the Wyldling, but just a few inches before it would have hit its shoulder, its Field activated. It manifested as a pane of glass and when the bolt laden with Yuriko’s Animus struck, it cracked. The plasma splashed, most of its power diverted by the Field, but a remnant of the bolt managed to pierce it. The Wyldling ignored the shot, at least until the remnant drilled into its shoulder, leaving a pinhole that spurted thick, bright blue blood. The wheat behind the exit wound burned. “Wyld leavings!” Yuriko cursed. Her reserve of Animus wasn’t enough to fire another shot with any certainty of piercing its Field. “Language,” Virgil grunted. His own rifle was already trained at the creature’s head. “Sorry...” Yuriko muttered, frustration thick in her voice. “No matter, bad luck in encountering a Wyldling with a strong Field.” The monster was close, only two hundred paces away but Virgil talked as if he had all the time in the world. A purple plasma bolt left the muzzle of his Plasma Caster, streaking across the sky with a muted roar. The Wyldling, perhaps sensing the difference in the attack, jumped to its left, crossing a dozen paces in one leap. It didn’t matter. The bolt curved and unerringly struck. Ping! The Field shattered. It roared, but even before its mandibles could fully spread open, death had come. In the next blink of the eye, the Wyldling’s head was gone. Virgil didn’t burn the wheat field behind it either. With his rifle holstered in a smooth motion, Virgil moved the shuttle near the body and dropped a beacon beside it. “There.” Virgil said with some satisfaction, “let’s go back home.” “Un,” Yuriko grunted with a depressed sigh. “Don’t worry so much, little flower, nothing is determined yet.” They flew back to Faron’s Crossing but, this time, Yuriko wasn’t in the mood to enjoy the scenery. It didn’t help that her Animus was nearly empty and the familiar warmth in her chest had turned cold. The afternoon sun’s rays on her back helped, slightly. By the time the two of them reached their home, Yuriko felt just a tiny bit better. It helped that her youngest brother, ten-year-old Rami rushed out and tackle-hugged her as soon as she alighted from the shuttle. “Whoa, you’re heavy!” Yuriko gasped, barely keeping the rifle from falling off her shoulders. The side blades handle dug into her ribs again, though. “Oof!” “Sorry, big sis,” Rami grinned cheekily, obviously not sorry at all. Yuriko ruffled Rami’s honey-coloured hair while she nudged him off her way with her hip. “Did you do your chores?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh-huh.” Rami nodded. “I studied on the console too. Oh, hi Da!” he waved when Virgil came over after he brought the shuttle into the garage. “Come on, Rami. Help me make dinner,” Virgil began ushering him to the kitchen. “Leave your sister alone, she needs to meditate for the Ritual.” “Dinner so early?” Rami whined, pointing at the sun that was still a couple of hours from touching the mists. “The Ritual is at dusk. Can’t have your sister participate with an empty stomach. She’d rip the Celebrant to shreds.” “No, I won’t!” Yuriko protested. “I’m not hungry anyway.” “Have something in your stomach anyway. The Ritual will last until dawn. You can’t leave the temple until then.” “Fine.” Virgil took Yuriko’s rifle with him, while Yuriko trudged behind. An hour later, after a somewhat relaxing hot bath, the three of them were at the table. Despite Virgil’s instructions, Yuriko barely ate anything. Her stomach was twisted in knots and the thought of eating made her want to throw up. She did manage to consume a single dinner roll with a slice of yellow cheese. The rest of the time, Yuriko spent pushing food on her plate around, while downing glass after glass of lavan juice. Finally, “It’s time.” Virgil said. “I need the bathroom,” Yuriko gasped as she ran off. A few minutes later, the two of them were walking down the road. Yuriko had changed into more comfortable clothing: a wide-necked blue sweater, black tights, and light grey loafers. Virgil remained in uniform. The town centre, unimaginatively named Faron’s Square, with the statue of the pioneer prominently displayed on top of a pedestal at the centre. The bronze statue was larger than life and showed Faron in a nearly archaic set of armour. His beard was neat and trimmed to a point, with his chin thrust out to the west. He held a longsword pointed in the same direction. His left held palm to the sky contained a stylized accumulation of Animus represented as dancing flames. The Temple was on the east side of the square. The pink-veined marble of its edifice loomed over the gaggle of kids with their guardians. A young lady, of the same age as Yuriko, shorter but with more womanly curves, stood near the entrance talking with a pimply, serious-looking young man. The girl waved to Yuriko as soon as their eyes met. “Yuri!” Krystal’s voice was pleasant to the ear and it gave Yuriko an impulse to pinch her cheeks and pull. “Krys.” Yuriko nodded restrainedly. “Are you ready?” “Not at all!” the other girl chirped. “Yuriko,” the boy, Mikel, intoned solemnly. It tickled Yuriko’s funny bone to see him try to act mature since he was inches shorter than Krystal, much less herself. The three of them grew up together as neighbours. They attended Faron’s Crossing’s preparatory school and, now that they were ready for the Atavism Ritual, it was likely that the three of them would attend an Imperial Academy in Rumiga City together as well. The other participants were waiting at the entrance. All told, there may have been a dozen of them. Faron’s Crossing wasn’t big enough to have more than a few children come of age every year, with the majority since the town’s founding already Awakened and the next generation were but babes in their swaddling clothes. It didn’t take long before the Celebrant stood at the Temple’s main doors. He was an elderly man with greying hair, though with a smooth-shaven chin. “It is time.” His voice boomed across the square. Yuriko’s heart pounded anxiously. Were her preparations enough? “What will come, will come,” Mikel intoned. “Oh, give it a rest.” Krystal huffed, her arms crossing and pushing up the swell of her bosom. The tight-fitting blouse she had only emphasized her curves and drew Mikel’s eyes like flies to honey. “Right,” Yuriko muttered. Her own body, aside from her height, was a little less developed than Krystal’s. The three of them, along with the rest of the participants entered into the Temple at the Celebrant’s beckoning. The doors shut with a loud thud and then it was far too late to change the Threads of Fate.