Layla sat up and glared at him. “I don’t. But that’s how my father described it when I was little. The name scared me until he explained it was a blacksmith’s forge, a place to make weapons.”
Wham
“There’s something unique to those mixed with Elewnai blood. Not everyone we mix with can handle the more…instinctual side. It didn’t take long for the clans to see what damage a half-blood could do with those abilities, the shape-shifting in particular being a hard thing for them to grasp. It got so bad no one was allowed to cross races in good honor without a contingency; a sort of nursemaid if you will. It was someone the half-blood could trust, had to trust. They had to be fully Elewnai, and it was their honor-bound to teach the half-blood how to navigate all the ins and outs, test what they could do. The best way this was achieved was through Bonding.”
Wham wham wham
“I don’t…I haven’t slept much either. I can’t really, until I get exhausted and have to. Even then, I don’t…” her voice faded off for a moment. She kept her eyes on the ground. I found her confession odd, if for nothing else than it seemed like she had spent half the time I had known her asleep. She took a breath. “It’s…it’s hard, you know? Sleeping. It just…somehow doesn’t feel right ever since he– ever since my father…” she trailed off again.
“Rod told me,” she said uneasily, “that you…that you lost someone?”
WhamWhamWhamWhamWham
“I can’t…seem to let it go. For the first few years after he died, I could sleep if the conditions were right. I’d dream about things…and only once in a while dream about the night he was killed. Then the dreams started coming more frequently.
One night I had the nightmare and…I think it unlocked something. That was the first night I woke up with…” she hesitated, pausing to gulp down some emotions. Shook her head.
“It was the first night you transformed.”
She nodded. “After that, they were going to hold me down. Force the dreams to an end. I still didn’t want them poking around, so I ran away. I thought after that…I thought if my transformations were connected to my nightmares, and my nightmares were because I couldn’t put the night to rest…I’d put it to rest myself. Force it to rest.”
She hesitated. Tried to speak. Pulled back. Pressed her thumb against her fingernails on one hand, where she thought I couldn’t see. Finally decided what she was going to say. “And…whoever did it…whoever killed her…are you going to kill them back?”
“Yes,” I said softly. “Yes I am.”
WhamWhamWhamWhamWhamWhamWhamWhamWhamWham
Darius. Jake. The smithy. Her father took her there. But she had no memory.
Whamwhamwhamwham
Darius. Helped her liberate the sword.
Whamwhamwhamwhamwham
Darius was taking her to Jake.
Whamwhamwahm
Jake knew Darius’ name before I mentioned it. Was tracking him.
Whamwhamwham
Place hadn’t been alive for decades. She argued it was.
Whamwhwam
Her father’s journal. Jake knowing what was going on. Darius leading her here. The bonded nursemaid. Full Marwolaeth.
I screamed, drawing strength from my core as I reared back and swung. My arm stung, the strike reverberating up to my shoulder and rattling my lungs. I let out a cough and slid back, toppling back. But there it was. The light leading out of here, mentally and physically.
Darius was never taking her where she’d learn about her father. Darius was taking her here, so Jake could take her back to her family. It was a big circle. And…Darius was doing this because he was supposed to be her nursemaid all along. He was…already bonded to her. That’s why he could so easily control her.
A small bit of light streamed from the hole I created. It was barely a whisper of damage. But it was there. I could get out.
I hesitated, glancing at the edges. The edges of the stone looked almost…burnt. Charred black edges circled the tunnel. I looked down at my hands to find what I never expected; sigels of my old world. Symbols from home, from an entity I thought I abandoned a long time ago. I thought she had abandoned me.
I should have felt pain, guilt, anger.
Instead I felt elated. Justified.
Guardians honor their word. Guardians honor themselves. The creator of fire, Alma, demands truth from her Guardian. Truth of self.
My hand clenched into a fist, the red markings shining bright as fire began to surround my flesh. Never touching, never hurting. But there. A memory of what I could become once again, if I only accepted it.
I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.
For now, though, this would be enough. I had accepted enough to help get me out of here. With a smile and a rattling, roaring laugh, I reared back and continued to tear, punch, and claw my way free, the pressure lessened with every crack that splintered the runes outside. Eventually I wormed my way through. Skin split. Blood pattering on the floor, smearing the walls.
I took a moment to smile as I leaned against the walls.
No, the paranoid projection had never met a being like me.
Freedom.
I took a moment to gather a large breath of fresh air. Gathered scents. Sounds. Tastes. I was underground. A hallway stretched out directly in front of me and to either side. Smoothed metal lined the walls, similar to Layla’s sword. Metal wood. Wires ran like veins in and out of the panels, shining rock reflecting overhead lights. There was an earthy scent to everything, smells intermingling, but I was focused on one. One scent. And I had it. It smelled like wild air, open earth. It smelled like magic, like home.
Layla.
Something else was coming, though. Surges of magic, condensing themselves into creatures. Claws clicked at the floor as they progressed, magic zipping through the air in the same space as electricity. Guards, likely, were on their way, and these wouldn’t be human or humanoid. These would be real guards. Ones I didn’t have time to mess with if I was going to find Layla.
Too late, though. My moment to stop in victory was too late.
The air in front of me shimmered. A pair of creatures on four legs appeared, black and purple skin warping and folding in on themselves, bodies comprised of solid magic. Spines ran along their backs, and both mouths opened to reveal a set of sharp teeth. Tails whipping behind them, horns instead of ears. Feral creatures, with only one thing on their minds.
With a loud snarl, the pair charged.
