《Feast or Famine》Interlude: Shadow & Glass VI
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You settled into our routines and our events like a perfect chameleon, knowing just when to fit in and just when to stand out, and with every new connection you made I only felt more alone.
Whether conversing with the lowest servant or the king’s own advisors, you knew exactly what to say and how to say it. On arrival you were a fascination, but by the end of the first month you were an obsession. Dark thoughts spiraled through my mind as you moved further into the court’s circles, established new connections, and became the focus of every gathering.
It wasn’t just the smiles they gave you that they hadn’t given me in years, though those did hurt. Nor was it the ease with which they brought you into social circles I had long been barred from entering. It wasn’t even that you stood a fair chance at winning over my father’s closest confidantes and being invited into their ranks, though that did sting second most.
It was, in some sense, that what we had was no longer special.
I had tutored you in the laws and histories and economics of my kingdom, and now you used that information to converse with courtiers as an equal. You had studied at my side and asked me question after question, always giving me rapt attention, and now you spoke with passion on those same subjects to ever-growing crowds of eager listeners. You spoke of our kingdom with the familiarity of a local and the fresh perspective of an outsider, and you bewitched them one and all. Your words were just as enchanting to the peerage as they had been to me.
When others spoke, you listened actively and earnestly no matter the topic and no matter if it was something you already knew or something you considered utterly foolish. You could make anyone feel as if they had finally been recognized and respected, and what did that say of our own interactions? Did I truly mean anything to you, or were you just using me? And if you were being sincere with me, then did that make me an awful person for doubting you and suspecting such horrid things of you?
You were, after all, my most ardent defender.
Whenever someone asked how you had become so learned in our ways so quickly—a feat made more extravagant for the deception of when you had truly arrived in these lands—you were quick to thank my tutelage as your greatest boon. You extolled my brilliance as a teacher and the care with which I had taken you in and acclimated you to Svijetstakla and the kingdom both. You told them of my passion for our culture, of my deep understanding of the complexities of our laws, and of the absolute mastery of my scholarship that you had been so grateful to learn from.
When courtiers warned you of my dangers in their subtle ways, whispering word of my unnatural temperament and the tragedy that had taken the late queen, you laughed. You were clever in this, for you hung a noose and then offered them amnesty. You called it superstition and silliness, the domain of small, petty minds, and of course these men and women of learning and fine upbringing would never believe such words. “Isn’t it delightfully absurd,” you would remark, “how the servants dream up such fancies when their minds are left idle?”
When you spoke to the servants, which you did carefully out of sight and hearing of the courtiers, you were gentle and curious and relaxed. They were warier than the peerage, at least at first, but you treated them with a decency they were entirely unaccustomed to from even the kinder nobles of the court. When they spoke rumor of the Shadow Fiend your questions were more pointed: “Has she ever mistreated you, or any of the other workers? Has she abused you or taken advantage of you or even yelled at you for little mistakes? Have her peers?” I wonder if you can imagine the joy I felt the first time one of them looked at me without fear in their eyes.
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You were always careful, so very careful, not to push too quickly or callously. With each new relationship you preferred to demur or evade on the topic of myself until you could be certain they would actually listen to you when you took my side. And it worked. Not quickly, not broadly, but you began to open doors for me. I was, for the first time in a very long time, invited to private parties and cloistered conversations.
It pained me that I couldn’t be happy for your hard-fought successes. Over tea, you made them laugh and sang my praises, and it took all my will not to shatter the cup. You were lively and charismatic and engaging, and I was stiff and cold and barely holding myself together.
And the dark grew in my mind, deeper and deeper, until you finally broached the subject over brunch in the castle gardens.
We sat with dumplings, cakes, and a bottle of wine to share. I wore a lacy dress of pink and lemon, and you wore doublet and hose in black and red with hints of gold. We ate and laughed and enjoyed ourselves, but I could tell you were leading toward a question and at last with another sip of wine you asked me, “Do you hate them?”
Hate. You were always so fond of that word. You burned with the kind of hate that could ruin empires and topple gods, and you wanted more than anything to see that hate burn inside me, too. To feel… I’m still not sure. Justified? Vindicated? Or maybe just… not alone.
But I’m not like you. I have to believe that, because it’s the only way not to drown.
“I haven’t told you everything about myself,” I said instead of answering. “I… once upon a time, I wasn’t a pariah within my own clan. Once, I wasn’t avoided by my peers. When I was young and full of talent and my own father had yet to throw me to the wolves… when I still had a chance at the throne… everyone in court sought after my favor. They gave me compliments and gifts and attention, and they treated me with grace and respect at all times. They were on perfect behavior.”
“But,” you prompted.
“But it was hollow. It was always hollow. Hollow words, hollow gifts, hollow sentiment. They never meant any of it. All they cared about was the throne.”
Your red eyes burned with that ever-present keen insight. “Their kindness was a means to an end. You were only ever a tool in their eyes, one to be treated well only so it could be more easily put to use. False friends, to the last.”
I laughed at the very word. “Friends. Before you, the only friend I ever had was my brother, and you’ve seen how that’s changed. No, I don’t think any of those were friendships, not even a little. Those serpents had words sweet like poison and carried fear and disdain in their hearts. But I was naive, and a fool, so it worked.”
You took another sip of wine. “What changed?”
“My third affinity. My last chance to hold the sun in my hands, turned to blood slipping through my fingers. That was when the clans knew that I could not inherit the legacy of Dawnbringer, and such a revelation is the death knell of a sorcerer. It took less than a week for every supposed friend to abandon me, cold and clean.”
“Mm.” You drummed your fingers along the glass in your hand. “My question remains: do you hate them? Do you resent them for lying to you, and that’s why you stiffen up at the very sight of them? Or are you afraid of being hurt and betrayed once more, and that’s why you can’t hold a conversation without having to stifle your disgust?”
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I simmered in that question, unhappy to be facing these feelings but knowing that I could not turn away, not now, not when you were the one pushing. “I…. I don’t know. I just feel so uncomfortable around them. Selfish, shallow creatures. My tormentors. Why… why should I play nice with them?”
“You don’t feel comfortable pretending to like someone,” you observed. “You’re unable to treat them as they treated you. You can’t play the game.”
“I… maybe. I hadn’t really thought of it that way.” I shivered, then. “I can’t stand the idea of it all being a game to them. Having to smile and lie and pretend to be something you’re not… I don’t know how you do it, when you talk to my father or to the courtiers. It makes me feel like I’m drowning when I even try.”
You shrugged and ate another cake treat, affecting an unbothered air. “I’ve had to play their game to survive for a long time. I hated it, you know, when I started. It didn’t make sense to me. I’m… well, you don’t have a concept for it here, but back home we called it ‘autistic.’ My mind doesn’t work like other minds. Social skills never came naturally to me, and I could never understand all the intricacies and delicacies of implication and nonverbal signals.” You laughed. “Hells, for the longest time I couldn’t even flirt without just telling a girl I wanted her bad, and I had no idea if a girl was flirting with me.”
Heated cheeks, a bit of panic, hidden behind wine and dumplings. Was that the reaction you were hoping for? You carried on, pretending not to notice.
“But I learned, and I kept learning, because learning is how you survive. I learned how to be subtle, and how to read subtlety, and I learned why it mattered. So much communication lives in the implicit and the unspoken, and I no longer think that’s a bad thing. It’s like… imagine you were a painter, but you had gone your whole life only ever using bold, bright, primary colors. You never mixed the colors, never blended them or shaded them, and when you heard of other artists doing that you scoffed. But then, one day, you saw it: you saw a painting with so much depth and complexity and meaning to it, and it was only possible because of all those little subtle techniques that you had scoffed at. Language and communication, spoken and written, these are forms of art and they are so much richer when you let them breathe.”
I was enthralled to your words, captivated by the eloquence and passion with which you spoke. “You make it sound almost… beautiful,” I said. “I… I’m sorry, Homura. I know you’ve been trying really hard to give me these opportunities and I’ve just been squandering them. I—I’m sorry. I can try harder, I can try to learn—”
You placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I get it. This shit was hard for me at first. I believe you can learn, but it’s not something anyone can learn in a day, and making you keep attending those events would just be piling on unnecessary stress. Don’t worry, I’m not out of tactics yet. Thank you for telling me all this, Reska. I truly, truly appreciate it, and I understand. It’s okay.”
My feelings were confusing in that moment. Messy. Vulnerable. That kind of sentiment was still so new to me and on some level it frightened me. You were giving me this support and validation even though I’d made your life harder. You understood. You cared.
A tear slid down my cheek, and another, and you wiped them away and pulled me into an embrace. You held me tight and whispered assurances until the broken sobs stopped, and then you kept holding me and comforting me until at last I found the strength to part from you and gather myself.
“I, um. You mentioned other tactics. Tell me about them. What’s next?”
You grinned, patted me on the shoulder one last time, and rose to your feet to pace in front of me. You did this occasionally, whenever you had a lot to say and needed to keep moving to keep the words flowing, and I found it endearing. “In truth, my cavorting with your intolerable peers has not been solely for your reputation; I have plied many secrets from the mouths of rulers and the ruled alike, including one secret that I believe your dear father would have liked very much to never reach your ears: there is a new labyrinth within our borders.”
I stiffened. “You can’t be serious. Here?”
“It’s yet a sapling,” you assured me, “else we’d be hearing much more about it by now. Your father’s bureaucratic engine is admittedly impressive, and tallies kept on night horrors revealed an increase in numbers and intensity that matches the emergence of a labyrinth, at least according to Zdenka. Careful scouting determined its location to be just by the border with Wood and Cloud. It is believed that our neighbors have yet to notice, but they will once the labyrinth grows.”
“Merciful Lady,” I breathed. “That’s horrifying.”
“It is also an opportunity. Our land near the labyrinth is worth less than Wood and Cloud’s land in that region, and they have more people at risk as well. If Sun and Sword were to remove the labyrinth, our neighboring kingdom would have no choice but to show us gratitude—and on the nearing eve of our regularly scheduled trade negotiations.”
I frowned. “Then, surely Father has already sent for his champions.”
You held up a finger. “Ah, but there’s one complication: Luka isn’t here.”
My brother was away on pilgrimage at the time, the usual yearly trek across the kingdom to renew the land and keep touch with the people. He still had another week and a half before he was set to return home. So why, I wondered, is the king waiting for him? It struck me with sudden horror. “This will make Luka a king.”
You nodded. “As rites of passage go, you can’t get much better than ending a major threat and securing a lucrative trade deal. The king will send Luka and a few blades into the labyrinth, and when they return his ascent to the throne will be guaranteed. No branch could dare compete with that little trick.”
My blood ran cold as I realized just how soon my inheritance would be forever out of reach. “Two weeks. In two weeks I will be no one.”
“So little faith, princess. Would I tell you all this without a solution? No, in two weeks you will be the upstart heiress on a fast track to the crown, because we are going to steal Luka’s victory.”
My eyes widened and I stared at you in shock. “What do you mean?”
You rested a hand on Vorpal at your side and said, “The labyrinth will get bigger and more noticeable before Luka is able to return, and that means giving Wood and Cloud a chance to clear it themselves and put our side in debt. We’re going to use that argument against Duchess Bladesinger, and she’s going to give us the location of the labyrinth and the means to get there quickly. And then you’re going to banish that labyrinth and become the hero of two kingdoms. So: are you in?”
I agreed, of course, and once we finished our brunch you had me slip into your shadow and hide there while you went to speak with Ruzica. Your shadow was warm, and I had begun to find a strange comfort in residing there. You were the only one to ever validate my birth affinity, to encourage its use, and that made this closeness all the sweeter.
You found Ruzica swiftly, knowing exactly which sitting room she would be in at that time of the day and week. You opened with polite formalities, but the duchess was a woman of action and didn’t mind when you cut straight to the point. You revealed your knowledge of the labyrinth and the king’s intentions for it, and you presented the case as you’d explained it to me: the labyrinth was risk and opportunity both, and waiting for Luka would skew it too far toward risk, so send the two of us.
You spoke of the minutiae of commerce between nations, revealing a deep familiarity with the kingdom’s economy, and even the callous duchess seemed impressed. You outlined in clear detail the material cost of letting Wood and Cloud get to the labyrinth first, and you even made a compelling argument for why they would get there first if we waited for Luka, as your studies had apparently extended so far as the information gathering capabilities of our neighboring kingdom.
Your understanding of the practical concerns at work clearly pleased her, as the duchess was ever disdainful of fools and the slow-witted. She agreed with your assessment of the situation and the necessity of swift action, but then she asked, “Why send you, then, and not a cadre of my blades and the king’s staves?”
“It has to be a royal,” you insisted, “for it to have the intended impact. To negotiate from a position of greatest strength, it needs to be the crown itself that is owed, not merely a servant of the crown acting on the crown’s orders. This is the way of sorcerers: the only power respected is the power you can hold in your own two hands.”
“True,” the duchess said, pouring herself a glass of wine and offering one to you, which you took with murmured gratitudes. “But then why a princess and not a king?”
You sipped from your glass and betrayed not a mote of hatred or disdain. When you spoke, it was calm, collected, and rational. “Forgive my words, but the king’s judgment is… compromised, when it comes to his children. His Majesty should be the one to banish the labyrinth, yet he risks disaster waiting for his son. Why? To win his child petty accolades? It is unnecessary. The correct course of action would be to set out now and take the matter into his own hands. But he will not.”
Bladesinger chuckled. “I could take your head for that, you know.”
You smiled. “And I have no doubt you would, if you truly disagreed. Yet here I stand.”
“Here you stand. Tell me, then, why you believe it unnecessary for Luka to close the labyrinth.” Ruzica settled back in her chair and watched you with an inscrutable expression.
“It’s simple, really: he does not need the help. Prince Luka is the greatest healer in a generation and a fair hand at politicking and governance besides. I have spoken with all the hungry courtiers of this realm, their hands fuller with ambition than sense, and still they talk of Luka’s ascension to the throne as an inevitability. The branch families have already set their sights on the coronation after Luka’s because they believe it such a given that the crown will be his and his alone. So why, then, does His Majesty seem so concerned with guaranteeing Luka’s rise?”
Ruzica frowned and drank from her glass. “I have wondered the same.”
You pressed further, leaning in with those red eyes burning. “Please, Your Grace, enlighten me to your thoughts: do you believe it was a mistake for His Majesty to pen the writ disinheriting Reska?”
Her eyes sharpened. “Elaborate.”
“It’s just that, for all intents and purposes, the princess was already excised from clan politics and clan holdings. There was, it would seem, no chance of her even coming close to the throne, so all such a thing could accomplish would be to antagonize the princess herself… unless, for some reason, the king did not share the court’s opinion about his daughter’s chances. And it has not evaded my notice that, despite the writ being discovered by Reska months ago and being marked as an urgent matter, it has not yet been publicized among the court. Almost as if, after being confronted, the king realized his mistake.”
The duchess seemed pensive over your words. “An interesting theory.”
My own thoughts were racing, wholly taken aback by the direction you had taken. It had never occurred to me that the king’s writ could be anything but a sign of disapproval, yet here you were arguing that it was a sign of insecurity and convincing one of the king’s oldest friends. Could she be right? Is my father afraid I’ll challenge Luka? Why?
You took a long drink of your glass, then set it down and spoke carefully. “I am foreign to these lands, and I will not speak on matters of tradition or propriety, but I can speak of practicals. Sending Reska is the safest bet. I promise you, she has the power to close that labyrinth, even if you sent just her and myself.”
Ruzica’s expression shifted from thoughtful to amused. “And all you’ll prove is her power. You know that was never the issue, don’t you? She lacks control. Give her the labyrinth, give her that win, but when you put her in a room with Wood and Cloud you’ll see firsthand what truly holds her back.”
“Mm. So I’ve heard.” You looked away from her and let a hand drape toward the floor, close enough to your shadow that I could almost feel you. “Were you aware that the lands beyond the Glass Tower don’t experience the labyrinth phenomenon? Your princess, too, is an oddity unique to this realm and no other, with that affinity of hers.”
Amusement became shrewd interest. “What are you getting at, Bloodfallen?”
“I have seen sides of Reska Ines Zelic that I do not believe any of you have, and I think there is more to her than you assume. She is stifled by this castle, and the labyrinth will provide a much needed crucible for her growth. You consider her fatal flaw to be one of control; I agree, but I believe that flaw to be contextual, and to be the fault of her environment, not something intrinsic to her nature. She is capable of magic so precise it would put your artisans to shame, if given the right space and motivation.”
Ruzica scratched her chin and looked at you more closely. “You’ve been bolder with me than I expected. You’re always so tricky with those nobles you’ve been luring.”
You smiled. “I have no intention of deceiving you, Your Grace. I simply believe that you are uniquely suited to appreciate my ambitions. Reska may be the trueblood heir, but she is far more the dark horse candidate than either you or His Majesty ever were. There is an injustice in how she has been treated, and many have been blinded to her true potential. I will use any means at my disposal to see her made rightful queen of this land.”
“With you as her consort, of course.”
Your lips quirked. “If that is Her Majesty’s wish, who am I to deny it?”
I almost lost control then and there, a few stray tendrils of shadow having to be quickly pulled back into the darkness. My consort? My mind raced with panic and confusion and hope and joy all intermingling. Was this just an act for Ruzica, or did you mean it? Did you want it?
My heart sang even as the duchess took your measure and laughed. “Alright, whelp, you’ve got fire. It takes guts to plot beneath the king’s nose with his own advisors, and it’s been too long since Kresimir saw a good challenge to his authority. Maybe this’ll be the kick in the backside that shakes him out of this fell mood. But!” She held up a finger and continued, “I don’t give handouts. If you want to go with Reska to the labyrinth, you’ll need to prove yourself first. Show me you’ve got what it takes on the battlefield just as much as in the ballroom.”
You bowed in your chair and spoke with sincerity and respect, though as ever it was impossible to tell how much of that was feigned. “I would be honored to test my blade against a master of sword art.”
Internally, my cocktail of messy emotions consolidated around panic over the others, because I had fought alongside you and seen you use that sword of yours and you were rubbish at it. I’d helped you as much as I could, of course, but I was terrible with a blade and had stopped practicing years ago when Ruzica herself dismissed me as hopeless. There was no way you could beat the kingdom’s greatest duelist in a fair fight, and I didn’t see how your talent for blood magic could make up the difference in power and skill.
“We’ll do this before eyes,” Ruzica declared. “If you perform well, you’ll get that extra bit of social capital I’m sure you’re craving. If you fail, that should dash your hopes enough you stop being my problem, or the king’s.”
Again your lips quirked. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. But, since this is all to test my skills, may I request the luxury of three rounds for you to take my measure?”
The duchess drummed her fingers against the arm of her chair. “I’ve got no grounds to refuse you, really, but there’ll be no healing between rounds; survive the full three or tap out and concede.”
“Perfect. The generosity is appreciated, Your Grace.”
“Ha! Generosity, she says. We’ll see if you still feel that way by the end of it.”
You parted ways to make preparations, and I emerged from your shadow so that I could watch the duel as myself. When the moment arrived, I watched from a crowd of chattering courtiers as you and Ruzica faced off in the training yard.
“Have you ever seen Lady Bloodfallen fight?”
“She can’t possibly stand a chance against Her Grace, can she?”
“She’s a wily one, I’m sure she has some foreign trickery.”
Castle healers were on standby, watching close enough to help but far enough to avoid any stray blows, and under strict orders not to intervene unless specifically requested. An unusual request, but not unheard of for a Duchess Bladesinger exhibition match.
You faced off, blades drawn, your red-bladed Vorpal and her silver-bladed Hymnal Edge. You bowed to each other, yours deeper as station dictated.
“May the odds be ever in your favor,” you called to your opponent with a smirk.
“To the pain,” Ruzica Bladesinger laughed, finally in her true element.
It began with footwork, the two of you circling each other and watching for form and tell and weakness. Ruzica held her blade loose in hand and moved casually, almost contemptuously, like you were just another bug to be squashed beneath her boot. You wore arrogance on your face, but your tight grip and the tension in your shoulders betrayed you.
A feint from you, a probe from her, an exchange of half-hearted maneuvers to test the waters and probe defenses. Ruzica forced you back with a lazy swing, and then her blade began to sing with the distinctive tone of her clan’s magic. I could feel you activate your own magic in response, calling on your affinity for Blood to bolster your strength and speed like I’d taught you.
Ruzica blurred into motion and you followed a heartbeat slower. Blades clashed and whirled and sang in a flurry of blows too fast for me to cleanly follow. I saw sparks and heard the scrape of metal and your bitten back cries as the duchess nicked you on the arm, the leg, the arm again, each cut light and shallow but still bright red.
Ruzica laughed and stepped back, and when you followed and pressed her she mocked you with her movements. When you feinted, she didn’t react, and when you went for a real strike she batted it away with absolute contempt.
The onlookers whispered to each other, and I listened.
“Who would have thought that a woman with such clever words could be such a brute with a sword?”
“The poor thing’s being toyed with, Her Grace is barely calling on her affinities.”
“Is she even using the Crest at all?”
One of the courtiers, who I recognized from Bladesinger’s court, watched with a more thoughtful expression. “Say what you will about style, but Lady Bloodfallen’s enhancement magic is powerful and she uses it cleverly. It’s saved her from every half-serious attack the duchess has sent her way.”
That provoked my attention, but then the duel shifted pace again and when I blinked you were bleeding across the front from a decisive cut. The court gasped, surprised by such a serious blow so soon, and my heart hammered in my chest with worry for you, but then those gasps turned to excited murmurs. Though you had been slashed and blood had been drawn, it wasn’t leaving your body; instead, the blood flowed like normal, coursing through you down natural pathways and entirely avoiding the wounded opening.
You parted from each other and began the dance of circling again, with Ruzica calling, “So the wolf has a few tricks after all. We’ll call that round one.”
“Fine with me,” you grinned back.
While you played it careful, I mustered my courage and sidled next to the Bladesinger courtier to ask, “Um, excuse me, but what did you mean about Homura’s magic?”
The courtier’s gaze shifted to me just long enough to show surprise before returning to the bout, but he answered, “Ah, Your Highness, a pleasure. Lady Bloodfallen’s swordplay is lacking, but she’s demonstrating an excellent technique that I imagine to have been a specialty of her family: she’s using enhancement magic not to flood her body with strength and speed but to strength and accelerate at exactly the moment that is necessary to do so. She puts in as much power as she needs to survive the exchange, then drops back to her baseline and stays there. She—ah, what’s this then? How interesting.”
You had begun making more feints as I listened to the courtier, and Ruzica had been responding with more of her callous denials, but after another flurry of blows you parted and the crowd was shocked to see you unharmed and with Ruzica bearing a single shallow cut across the leg.
The duchess cocked her head, looking at you with interest, and then chuckled. “Well now.” Her blade sang lower, and then she was on you again with lightning speed, your swords crossing over and over again.
The courtier beside me whistled appreciatively. “Her footwork and action are both improving,” he told me, “and she’s relying less on her enhancement.”
The battle became more intense as the duchess drew on more of her magic, carving gashes in the dirt and pushing you back with raw force. You took more wounds, though light ones, and you kept each from bleeding with will and sorcery.
“That ability to preserve herself is remarkable,” said the courtier beside me. “Do you know anything about it, Your Highness?”
“She can’t do it forever,” I murmured to him, not wanting to lose his insight, “but I’d be worried for other reasons if this duel went to her duration limit.” You’d been practicing, and by that point you could sustain an open wound for perhaps an hour through pure focus.
The other watchers talked amongst themselves, though I was becoming less interested in their opinions.
“Was her lack of skill just a feint to draw out the duchess?”
“She must have been holding back as bait, but bait for what?”
Then came the move that ended the second bout: a magical slash from Hymnal Edge that cut through the very air. You blocked it with Vorpal, but not all of it, and the wave of cutting energy sliced open your cheek and side.
You gritted your teeth and backed off, still maintaining the flow of your blood but breathing heavy now. “Shall we call that second?”
Ruzica twirls her blade. “Might as well. You don’t look like you have much left in you, whelp. Time to finish this.”
The next flurry of action was almost impossible for me to follow, so I relied on the courtier’s analysis. You were moving smoothly now, flowing naturally through form and motion and technique with exactly as much skill and grace as Duchess Bladesinger, incorporating her style and almost entirely replacing your own natural brutality.
Ruzica kept slowly raising the amount of power she was channeling through Hymnal Edge, throwing more and more at you, forcing you to continue relying on your blood magic to close the gap and stay alive. The crowd was invested now, watching with fascination as the lopsided duel became more and more dangerously equal.
Then, after Ruzica stepped back from another deflected blow, you made your move. You drew a bit of blood from your open wounds onto Vorpal, and then you ignited the blade, casting it in crimson flame. You swung with Vorpal, putting all your power behind the blow, a killing stroke—
—but not enough. Ruzica just barely deflected your attack into the ground, where it scorched the dirt and puttered out. You looked shocked, dazed, breathing heavy and open to retaliation. Vulnerable.
Ruzica gathered her own power, more and more of her might and her affinity, and unleashed it all in one devastating slash coming right at you. You saw it coming and didn’t move, couldn’t evade, and then—
—you spoke a single word, the end of a phrase whispered too softly to catch: “Reversal.”
Hymnal Edge struck your body with the full might of Ruzica’s affinity behind it, and then her arm and shoulder both exploded in a spray of gore, torn open and ripped to shreds by her own magic. The duchess stumbled, bleeding profusely, bone visible, as you stepped away from the blade that had not cut even an inch into your body.
Even ravaged by her own spell, Ruzica still had enough presence of mind to go for another attack, raising her blade to lash out again, but you twisted your hand and all of your blood on Hymnal Edge—blood that had, I only then realized, had been slowly traveling down toward the hilt as if magnetically drawn—burst into flame and seared her hand.
It didn’t stop her, but it slowed her down, and that’s all you needed to move your own blade into position, and when both swords came to rest they were pointed at the other’s throat.
The scene was still, the crowd silent, blood dripping from Ruzica’s mangled body and still flowing safely within yours. And then the duchess laughed and lowered her blade—you did the same with Vorpal—and motioned for the healers to come forth and attend to you both.
“Well damn, girl, you really did have tricks up your sleeve. I haven’t been caught off guard like that in some time.”
You grinned. “It was close. My techniques are risky, but I was counting on your personality to give me what I needed.”
Beside me, the courtier snapped his fingers. “Ah! That explains it.”
I looked to him for an explanation, confusion clear on my face. Where did she learn that? “What explains it?”
“The weakness in the first and second rounds,” he said, “they were clearly to lure Ruzica into a slower match, to get more blood into play before baiting her with that false finisher. If the duchess had moved too swiftly at the start or too slowly at the end, it would have spelled disaster, so Lady Bloodfallen was playing a very dangerous game.”
A game that I’d had no idea about, and which relied on magic I didn’t know you had. I was hungry for answers, but I waited patiently as you spoke in hushed tones with Duchess Bladesinger about our forthcoming venture to the labyrinth in the borderlands.
Once that was settled and the crowd cleared out, we left together and you led the way to your room to clean off and talk.
In the privacy of your room you were very shameless about removing your damp shirt in front of me, exposing your arms and back glistening with sweat from the exertion of the duel. Your body had grown surprisingly wiry since we met, still thin but now with an edge of muscle.
The hair clung to your forehead as you swept it back, and the heat still shone in your face as you toweled off first your body and then your blade. I blushed at the sight of you and tried not to let you notice, instead refocusing my attention on the petty details of your room.
You had been given chambers as part of your arrangement with the kingdom, but you had been offered much more than you had taken, insisting on a more modest dwelling for excuses of earning your keep. You kept a desk piled high with books, a table by your bedside piled with additional books, and a bookshelf against one wall filled to bursting with yet more books.
In one corner of the room you had piled all the gifts you had received from various courtiers seeking your favor: bottles of wine, a few dresses and hats, and all manner of flowers and candies. Only the wine had been touched.
“That went well,” you remarked as I took a seat on your bed. “Of course, the labyrinth will be the hard part, but I’m confident in your abilities.”
“Thank you, and I hope you’re right. I’ve never seen the inside of a labyrinth before, so I’m a little worried, but, that can wait.” I looked back at you, attempting to ignore that you were still wearing only your undershirt from the waist up, and asked, “Homura, how did you do that? How did you duel Ruzica like that? You were barely beating me just a few days ago, and I’m horrid with a blade. How do you go from that to drawing even with the foremost master of sword art in maybe the entire region?”
You grinned, unperturbed. “You noticed. Well, it wasn’t entirely skill, I’ll admit. Here, let me show you.” You wiped your hands off with a bit of clean water and a fresh towel, then held out a hand.
I got up from the bed and nervously stepped forward, holding out my own hand and allowing you to take it in yours. Your grip was warm and comforting.
“Feel the warmth of my hand in yours. Feel the blood singing beneath our skin. Feel the bond that forms between us.”
I felt the flow of magic, tasted a familiar affinity. This was Blood spellcraft, seizing on the conceptual notion of bonds. Your magic reached across the connection between our bodies and established a spiritual connection, a conceptual link.
“Now,” you said, “call starlight to your other hand.”
I was confused, but I complied. I conjured a celestial sphere to my open hand, shaping an orb of glittering stars.
You held out your free hand, the other still clasping mine, and said, “Let as above be so below, and as without be so within. Let this bond between us become a mirror, reflecting.”
The air above your open hand rippled, and then a ball of cold light flickered into being. It wasn’t as bright or as full or anywhere near as detailed as my own starlight, but it was starlight, clearly and undeniably. I gasped with shock. “You… you copied my magic. How? How did you copy my magic?”
“It’s the specialty of my second affinity: Glass focusing Reflection. When I connect to someone with Blood, I can then reflect their characteristics across the bond with Glass. It’s what I used to copy Ruzica’s sword skills for the duration of our duel, though I had to burn them up to pull that reversal trick at the end.”
My shock bloomed even stronger, mind stuck on that very first sentence. “You… you have a second affinity. You have a second affinity, and you’ve focused it? When did you—how did you—how is that even possible? It’s been so little time.”
I won’t deny that I felt a certain jealousy, learning that you had already unlocked a second affinity just months after the first, and focused it even. The last dregs of my pride were bound up in my prodigal talent as a sorcerer, but your feats of progression surpassed even mine. I extricated my fingers from yours, staring at the ball of light, but it didn’t fade or flicker out. In fact, the longer I watched, the more detailed it became and the closer it resembled my own starlight. The bond between us still reflected my magic to feed your own.
Then it struck me. “Wait, Glass? Like the glass needle with the stored affinity? Homura, where did you get that needle? How did you learn a second affinity with such absurd speed?”
“Well, I like to think I’m an unusual girl. But, you’re right: I got that needle from the same place I learned this affinity. I had a bit of help from someone.” You stared past me, eyes adopting a faraway look. “I hadn’t told you until now because I wasn’t really sure what it meant, but… in my dreams, since arriving in this world, I am haunted by visions of a tower of glass inside a city of glass people, and inside that tower is a lonely woman crying beside a shattered mirror.”
You curled your hand into a fist and the starlight vanished inside, and a moment later I felt the conceptual link dissipate between us. When you opened your hand again, there was a marble on your palm. It was a glass marble of perfectly ordinary size and shape, but it was full of glittering, gleaming starlight.
“She gave me that needle to help our plan, and then she taught me my second affinity. It was easy, really, after being surrounded by glass in all my dreams for so long, to make it mine. I suspect she did something to speed the process along, given how unusual my growth has been.”
You clicked open a hidden compartment in your rapier and slid the starry marble inside. I caught a glimpse of other marbles, other scraps of magic frozen in glass, and then the compartment closed.
“Does that make sense?” you asked with a laugh.
I stared at you, every new revelation throwing me off further. “That was… Homura, that was Katoptris. You spoke to Katoptris, the Lady of Glass, our divine protector who watches over us from the Glass Tower.”
You raised an eyebrow. “I see she’s more important than I realized. Tell me more.”
“She—she brings safety and stability to our land, to Svijetstakla. For as long as anyone can remember, she’s been a source of guidance and support in times of hardship, offering advice and aid to any who brave the journey to her tower and pass a few simple trials. But her tower has been sealed to us for, what, just over two decades? Katoptris has been silent for longer than I’ve been alive, Homura. And you talked to her? Please, start at the beginning, this is all so much.”
You nodded and motioned for us to sit, which we did. “I woke for the first time in the city outside her tower. That city is… strange. It’s full of people that look like people and talk like people but aren’t people, as they’re happy to insist. They don’t feel joy when they eat or have sex, they don’t feel sadness when they lose something or someone, and they don’t even feel pain when you hurt them. They’re like toy dolls playing house, only acting out the motions.
“I spent weeks in that city, trying to understand it, trying to find my way to the tower that loomed over it all. The doll-things, they tried to keep me out. They tried to seduce my attention with food and wine and women, but that only made it more obvious that I was being purposefully obstructed. The city itself was fighting against me, shifting each visit to ruin my attempted maps, but still I persisted.
“When I finally reached the tower gates, I found them open, but that was only the beginning of my trials. The tower was perilous, every floor stuffed with new hazards and threats. While you and I together were delving dungeons and slaying monsters in the countryside, I braved the tower’s trials alone. It took every ounce of what I had learned from you to overcome the obstacles before, and that still wouldn’t have been enough if not for a quirk of the dreams: death for my dreaming self was only ever temporary, and I would awaken at the bottom floor of the tower each night after a failed attempt.
“Eventually, with great hardship, I succeeded. I reached the highest floor of the tower, and there I found the woman who sat beside the shattered mirror, her arms and legs bleeding from the scattered shards. I found Katoptris, and we talked.”
I stared down at my hands, trying to process all of that. “You talked to an archon. I can’t even begin to comprehend what that must have been like.” But I could begin to be jealous and fearful, just at the thought of it. You had the attention of an archon, so what did you need with me?
“Archon? I don’t think I’ve encountered that word yet. What does it mean?” You looked at me with keen interest, your curiosity ever insatiable.
“They’re, um, they’re connected to the Crawling Chaos in some way. I don’t think anyone knows for sure. I’ve read that they’re pieces of her, or her children, or something else entirely. There’s Katoptris, who protects the Heartstone, and the Emissary, who speaks for the dead gods of the Abyss. There’s a third, I think, or maybe there was, or will be? Sorry, it’s been a long time since I read those texts and they were kind of confusing.”
“Fascinating. If you could dig those up, I would deeply appreciate it.”
I swallowed my nervousness and nodded. “Yeah, of course. So, um… what did you talk about? You and Katoptris, I mean.”
You turned away from me again, looking out over your room but really looking over your memories. “She was lonely, so I kept her company. I told her about you, and about me, and about other worlds. I told her stories. Some of it was the needle and the affinity and practical matters, but most of it was just… talking. She needed it, so I gave it to her.”
I hated how much that hurt me. I hated how jealous I felt. You were talking about meeting a god, an archon, a spawn of the Crawling Chaos, and all I could think about was that you were spending time with another girl. It felt like the care and attention you’d shown me wasn’t unique to me, wasn’t because I was special, wasn’t because you liked me at all. You just took pity on poor broken girls and made them feel like they could be loved.
Liar. You were always such a liar. You lied to me, to the court, did you even lie to her? Did you ever say a word that wasn’t a lie?
It’s too late to change anything, I know that. It’s over now, at least for me. But still. If you’re still out there, somewhere, ruining girls like me…
I hope no one ever believes your lies again.
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The Arcane Gunslinger
A lazy celestial being's mistake leads to Sergeant William Remington, a decorated member of the Coalition Marines, to be placed into a new body. His old life aboard the Valkyrie, an interstellar destroyer has also been replaced as he finds his new body in an unknown world. Where he learns of magic, skills, the system, helhorses, and slinging lead with ancient revolvers. Initially, he is skeptical of his new norm but the desire to survive leads him to try to earn a living while he figures out what just happened to his life. He's a fighter but far from the elite, a grunt with some experience. But what better way than to fall back to what he's familiar with, weapons and going after criminals and rebels. With the added challenges of monsters. This is my first Litrpg writing. It's a wild west fantasy setting with the MC taking a role as a gun-slinging bounty hunter in a world of magic and monsters. Hope you enjoy it. UPDATES AT 3PM EST ON MONDAYS AND THURSDAYS! Warning. The story has a slow start because I'm trying to keep my MC realistic. It takes him some time to adjust to his new surroundings, start to make some friends, and really get into the swing of it. I kind of think it's dumb when an isekai's MC manages to blink twice and suddenly adapts to their new world without any sort of struggle or learning period. So not doing that but don't worry Will may be confused and a bit unfocused at first but he'll grow into his own. Also using it to practice my digital artwork... which is far from par but improving. Keep an eye on author notes for maps and depictions of monsters and characters.
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8 96Would you please become the Demon Lord? (COMPLETED)
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8 216Shizuka
A/N: I'm actually writing two stories at once, this and another story on ScribbleHub. I have decided to put Shizuka on hiatus due to some RL issues but my story on ScribbleHub will continue since I'm co-writing it with a friend which is easier. Please do check it out on ScribbleHub. Series name is Walking in Shadows. Four Heroes were summoned from earth to combat an evil threat in Evarenan but there was a fifth person, Hirano Shizuka. She was never meant to be summoned. It was purely coincidental and unintentional. The God who acted as the intermediatery for the summon, has shunned her. Fated to live a harsh life in a foreign world. Abaddon, a Goddess, the Empress of Night, took pity upon Shizuka. Fascinated by the strength of her will and soul, and fond of her humble and accepting character, the Goddess offered Shizuka to be her Champion which Shizuka accepted. A month passed after the arrival of the Heroes and a plus one at Evarenan, the real trials and nightmares of this world had only just begun for our offworlders, especially Shizuka. AN: Shizuka is the sequel to Overture of an Odyssey, which takes place after the events of the latter.
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8 90Demon’s Diary
Liu Ming, since he was young, lived in a savage prison named Savage Island where the prisoners aren’t controlled by any guard or security. When the island sinks due to “mysterious” events, only a handful of people survive – those survivors are then pursued by the government. On the other hand at another place two practitioners are worrying about what will happen to them because the young master that they were supposed to protect had died. Their young master just so happen to looks nearly like our hero… What will happen? Where will Liu Ming ends up and in what will he do ? Thank you for reading Demon’s Diary novel @ ReadWebNovels.net Read Daily Updated Light Novel, Web Novel, Chinese Novel, Japanese And Korean Novel Online.
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