Tezzariel bolted down the myriad hallways of the palace like a rampant gust of wind. The labyrinth beneath the sea blended together into a smear of featureless white as she pushed herself harder and faster with every bound. With her goal immediately before her she leaped through the open sliding door and into the training hall.

She felt the impact of the switch before she could register it hurtling towards her. It flew with the force of an arrow, catching her mid leap and striking her forehead at its narrowest point. Knocked off balance, Tezzariel was sent spinning unto her back. What little breath she still had left her in a rush as she slammed into the hard featureless floor, her chest making a hollow crunching sound as she hit the ground.

Reluctantly opening her eyes she was greeted by three blurry renditions of Sharde’s darkly cloudy expression.

“Ow,” Tezzariel groaned through her teeth. “That hurt.”

“You are late. Again… Or should I say, as usual?” replied all three of the Shardes.

Tezzariel moaned and rolled unto her side, propping herself up until her vision regained it’s focus.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think I need to lecture you on the value of my time. So tell me, what is your excuse today?”

“Tiel wanted to tell me a story about…”

“A story?!” Reaching down, Sharde hoisted Tezzariel up by the collar of her shirt like a kitten by it’s scruff. “I am grateful that your care of our goddess extends to her every whim, child, but you need to be firm.” The knight began gently brush the wrinkles from Tezzariel’s clothes, her gaze stern but calm. “You are smart, Tezzariel, and gifted, but you dote on the Divine too much.”

“But she’s our goddess…”

Sharde sighed and bopped Tezzariel lightly on the head with a closed fist.

“Ow!”

“You and I both know that she is nothing of the sort. That is why you and I get to come down here, and everyone else stays above. It’s our job to…”

“Keep her in check.”

“Correct. She’s a rambunctious little brat. You cannot always allow her to have her way. I don’t even think she wants you to in any case. You are supposed to become her right hand, and sometimes the right hand is best used for issuing a quick slap across the face.”

“I am sorry, lady Sharde.”

“Yes, you are.” Sharde took a step back to examine her student. “You are adept at most everything, Tezzariel, but you are too easily persuaded.”

“I…”

“Stayed up all night with Tiel listening to her histories and tangents again? Sometimes I feel like that girl is ten years old, not an immortal with the power of foresight. So… what story did she tell you this time?”

Tezzariel paused and looked sheepishly at the ground, unable to look her teacher in the eyes. It was going to be hard to keep the excitement from her voice.

“I learned about the war with Ryedyn eighty years ago. I learned about how the current Archon, with the help of the previous Redshield and the Wanderer stopped an invasion by one of the Children of Dyne.”

“Ah, Genn and company. He’s an interesting fellow, and probably the strongest man alive so far as I’m aware. If Tiel is going to tell you stories I suppose you could do worse than relevant history.”

“You’ve met him?”

Sharde blinked.

“Yes, a long time ago when on an envoy mission. Yinyue is not overly involved with Tieran, mostly due to our idealogical differences as countries, but there is some trade between us. The Archon’s Steward, Shidai, has also made the journey here a couple of times. He’s one of the few people with enough diplomatic swing to actually cross our borders. He fancies himself something of a scholar.”

“What is the Archon like?”

“Big, impulsive, smiles a lot. He always struck me as more of a fighter than a politician, though he’s quite old now.” Sharde paused, catching herself. “Anyway, that’s enough of that. We have arms training to do and I’ll not have your head somewhere in the clouds.

“Yes, Lady Sharde.”

“Stop repeating that as if is has any meaning. You and I both know you’re going to continue acquiescing to our divine’s every desire. In any case, how is she doing? I fear she is a tad too enthralled with Tieran at the minute. I wonder what’s caught her interest there…”

“That is accurate, Lady Sharde. She’s been acting strange ever since she found that sword in the vault. It’s like she’s hiding something from me. She’s been having her visions regularly, but won’t say what they’re about.”

“Well, find out. If she can’t trust us with her secrets she’ll bury them so deep they’ll never see the light of day.” Sharde took a long inhale of her pipe and began walking towards the weapon rack, leaving a trail of raspberry scented smoke in her wake. “I swear, that girl never stops being a handful.”

“Which weapon shall I start with?”

“It doesn’t matter, you’re going to learn them all.”

The rest of the morning was spent sparring in the courtyard. True to her word, Sharde made Tezzariel practice with every weapon available and some objects that weren’t intended as weapons at all. On a couple of occasions, Tezzariel had managed to get past Sharde’s guard, only to have to the much taller and more nimble woman dance swiftly back into striking distance. Whenever Tezzariel thought she was getting the upper hand, Sharde would quickly dismiss the idea with a decisive blow from her wooden quarterstaff. It was like trying to catch the chickens back at the orphanage. She was never quite fast enough to get close.

By the time lunch rolled around Tezzariel’s skin was predominantly purple with bruising, and every muscle on her body burned with exhaustion. The white shirt and loose fitting pants she wore clung to her skin from the sweat, and her breath stung in her throat every time she inhaled.

Sharde, for her part, looked like she had just taken a leisurely stroll. The tall statuesque woman watched Tezzariel with the detached professionalism of a merchant running the numbers. Tezzariel couldn’t help but wonder about the results of her calculations. Whenever Sharde stood still, she reminded Tezzariel of a crane. She had incredibly long legs, and always seemed relaxed and in control. Her bearing was imperious, but only by virtue of her dominant presence. It was hard to reconcile the Sharde that Tezzariel saw with the goddess, flippant and familial, with the Sharde that was training her. When Sharde had a weapon in hand she was unstoppable. No matter what maneuvers Tezzariel tried, actually landing a blow on the woman was proving impossible. She was fast, but not remarkable so. It felt more like Sharde always knew what Tezzariel would do before she did it, and only put in the minimum effort required to counter. Tezzariel wondered how many battles the woman had fought in to become so proficient. Aside from Sharde herself, there was also the problem with the weapons that Tezzariel was forced to practice with.

“Why do I need to learn to wield a frying pan, and a folding fan?” Wheezed Tezzariel, placing the household commodities on the ground. “At the same time?”

Sharde grinned and took a long drag on her pipe.

“Could get in a fight in an extremely hot kitchen while cooling yourself,” Sharde chuckled. “I’m not trying to teach you to be a master of the pan, Tezzariel. This practice is to force you to become comfortable with their shapes. It’s to force you to become comfortable with all shapes. Today it’s a frying pan and a fan, tomorrow and umbrella and a shoe horn.”

“But I don’t understand why I need to become comfortable with their shapes, lady Sharde. Could I not just learn to wield a sword, or perhaps a spear?”

“Your greatest weakness, Tezzariel, is that you that you don’t have one. You’re fairly good at everything you do, and I imagine you’ll be incredible with any weapon you decide to pick up. With that said, you also don’t have any one strength, all you have is your versatility.”

“I don’t understand.”

Sharde walked over to the nearest wall and leaned up against it. Tilting her head back, she released a long plume of smoke into the air. Tezzariel had been around Sharde long enough to know that this meant she was thinking about how to phrase something.

“Frankly, you’re probably the most competent person I’ve ever trained,” said the Knight, spinning her long stemmed pipe between her fingers. “You’re much better then I was at your age, and you learn quickly to boot. You’re hard working, despite how eager to please our goddess you are. And yet…”

“And yet?”

“Without any one strength to lean on, you’ll never be the best at anything. If you come across someone who is, I’m afraid you’ll lose, or in the worst case scenario, die.”

Tezzariel swallowed a lump in her throat. She already knew how she was going to die, but it was possible she wouldn’t even get to that point if she was too careless.

“You and I,” continued Sharde, pointing the training staff at Tezzariel, “are similar.” The knight slowly moved the tip of the staff from Tezzariel’s feet to her head. “You’re well built, and big for your age and sex. You have the natural constitution of a fighter, and between you and I, I think you would have made a great Knight Meteora. There is however, one difference between us.” Turning her head, Sharde regarded the corner of the room. Propped up against the wall, was her long sword, sheathed and as tall as Tezzariel herself. “That.”

“Your sword?”

Sharde nodded, waving her training staff in a slow circular motion.

“Frankly, I hate staffs. The only reason I can beat you with it is because I have more experience in real combat. Given some practice though, you will soon out pace me. That sword though… You’d never be able to beat me as long as I hold it.”

“What’s so special about the sword?”

“Nothing. It isn’t even meant for duels or foot maneuvers. It’s an anti-cavalry weapon. It’s made for taking down mounts and bringing their riders to ground.”

Tezzariel was confused, and it must have shown on her face. Lifting herself off of the wall, Sharde walked over to her sword. Turning to face Tezzariel, Sharde tossed the staff in her direction. Tezzariel snatched it out of the air with one hand, and waited. Picking up the sword, Sharde lowered herself into a wide, low stance. Readying the blade at hip level, she wrapped one hand around the grip.

“Toss the staff towards me,” she said.

Tezzariel shrugged, curious to see what would happen. Doing as she was told, Tezzariel threw the staff underhand towards Sharde. There was a clicking sound, and then Sharde was re sheathing the blade. Tezzariel hadn’t even seen her draw it… The staff hit the ground at Sharde’s feet in four pieces.

“How…” Tezzariel muttered, eyes wide, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. Slowly, she walked over to what remained of the staff. In that short moment, faster than Tezzariel could even blink, Sharde had cut the staff in three places. Each cut was clean, as if made by a saw. “That’s incredible.”

“This sword,” she said. “Isn’t a practical weapon, but when I was younger I took a liking to it. It felt right in my hands, as if it were meant for me and only me. It was my strength, is what I’m getting at. Mind you, the little trick you saw just now requires a certain type of blood will and a level of proficiency, but is still something only I can do.” Using her sword as support, Sharde lowered herself to the floor, padding the ground next to her. “Take a seat child. Since you like stories so much perhaps it is time I told you one. Then we’ll eat.”

Tezzariel, curious and knowing better then to question her mentor, did as instructed. Sharde’s gaze wandered about for a moment before settling on the ground at her feet.

“I’m a Knight Meteora, and generally speaking, the way we become one is not all that different to how you were selected for your role…” Sharde began to spin her pipe once more. It was something she always did when she intended to talk for more than a moment. “I have never known life outside of my order. A long time ago I was also plucked from my life and thrust into a world I knew nothing of. Unlike you, I had a family. Believe it or not, but I come from noble stock. My family was quite wealthy, and I was comfortable. Spoiled is perhaps a better word. Despite this, I loved my family, and they loved me. My parents were good people, or at least as good as anyone in their position could stand to be. At first I hated it here. Why was I being forced to worship a statue? Even back then I had a hard time believing that our goddess was a sculpture sitting at the bottom of an underground lake. Still, I resented that statue for everything it had taken from me.”

“Why did you change?”

“Patience, child. I discovered that the goddess was not a statue on the day she tried to escape. I was the one who found her initially… On that day my entire world was turned upside down. I was nineteen, or twenty at this point. When I discovered the goddess, I was filled with rage. I felt betrayed, as if everything I had lost was all because of a lie… I blamed Tiel for it.” Biting down on her pipe, Sharde laid the sword in her lap as she ran her fingers gently along the length of the blade. “The other knights use a different style of sword, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“I have,” said Tezzariel. “It’s a dual edged short sword.”

“When I found Tiel, I tried to kill her. I drew that very same sword you described, and I attempted to take her life.”

“You tried to kill Tiel!?” Tezzariel exclaimed. The revelation shocked to her core.

“I did.”

Tezzariel did not know what to say, all she could manage was…

“Why?”

“The divine…” Sharde hesitated. “She… She would have let me. She just stood there. As I pressed the tip of my blade to her throat, all she said was, “finally”. She smiled at me then. She didn’t cry, or plead for her life. She looked happy.” Sharde examined the palm of her hand as if reading her own fortune. “I couldn’t. I thought that I was ridding the world of a Tyrannical god. I wasn’t prepared to murder a sad, lonely child. In that moment, I changed. I let go. I spared her.”

“What happened next?”

“Next,” said Sharde, her eyes darkening with barely restrained fury. “The Knight Commander at the time found us. I watched her cut Tiel’s legs off with her short sword less than an hour later. I vowed I would never touch that blade again, nor would I ever worship Tiel, because she isn’t a god. She’s a victim.” Sharde looked up, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, but her gaze for off in the past. “Tezzariel, this is not a palace, it’s a prison. The Knights Meteora do not exist in service of the goddess, they are her jailers. We, as an order, exist to keep her confined.”

Tezzariel watched her master, and for the first time, she saw it. She was the turmoil, and the pain, and the resolve that had made the woman she was today.

“After that I would sneak down to the statue to visit her. I did it because I wanted to repent, I think. She never blamed me for what happened that day, and she even gave me this.” Sharde lightly touched the hilt of her sword. “As I grew older, I resolved to make my way to the top. I vowed that I would set Tiel free, even if all of Yinyue had to burn as a result. That became my will, and through it, this blade became my strength, and the symbol of my vow.” Sharde laughed softly in her chest. It was a sad, but pleasant sound. “I know that she’s a millennium old but when I see her I only see the sad little girl that wanted me to take her life. Or at least I did until you came along. I love Tiel and there is nothing I would not endure for her. When I see you two together I think to myself, so this is what it means to love.” Sharde reached out, running her fingers through Tezzariel’s hair. “I am not Tiel’s mother, nor am I yours, but I love you both all the same. That is the true source of my power. I guess what I’m trying to say is, you don’t need to find the one thing that you’re strongest at. You need to find your resolve, and that one thing will find you.”

Reaching out, Sharde pulled Tezzariel in close.

“The reason I brought you here is to help me, and Tiel, in this pursuit. We are a family now. Your role in all of this demands that you be strong, but more then that, Tiel needs you to be. I need you to be.”

After that Sharde said nothing more concerning her past or feelings on the matter, yet Tezzariel felt that something had changed between them. They ate lunch and resumed training as if nothing had happened, but it had. When the day was done and Tezzariel retired to her room, sleep would not take her. As she rolled from side to side in her bed, she contemplated Sharde’s words and her story. What was the point of strength if it couldn’t be used for that sake of those she cared for? Was strength the ability to fight and to kill, or was it as Sharde had said? Was Tezzariel’s strength her bonds with others as well? Sharde had said that she loved her…

Those words.

That sentiment.

Tezzariel had always been missing something, and now she had found it. The feeling was hard to describe, but it was warm.

Getting up from her bed Tezzariel walked over to her desk and opened on of the drawers. In the drawer was the dagger that she had used to draw blood for her telling all those many months ago. Slowly, she drew the dragger from its sheath, admiring the way the dim light of the room played off the moon steel. Running her fingertips along the blade, she recoiled.

“Ow!” she said, looking down at her hand. A thin line of red began to appear across a few of her fingers. Tezzariel watched as the blood began to bead and pool. “I’m loved,” she muttered to herself. “They need me, and I need them.” A small sob crept it’s way up her throat. She knew in her heart that she too would burn Yinyue to the ground for her family. She would burn the world if it meant their happiness. After all, without them, what need was there for a world in the first place. They were all that mattered, and for them, she would become strong.

Tezzariel’s eyes opened wide as her blood began to glow a soft crimson, it’s light reflecting off the crimson on her eyes, dying her silhouette in red as it’s luminescence filled the room.

Her finger’s stopped bleeding, and the blood crystallized, forming tiny jewels like ruby’s in her hand.

“This is where I belong,” she said. “They are my family, and I will become worthy of them.”

Slowly, Tezzariel closed her hand into a fist, feeling the jewels of her blood crunch against her skin.

She had found her resolve, and her blood had answered it’s call.