Her eyes had started to sting from holding the unfamiliar wetness in her eyes for too long. She was shivering, maybe from the cold or maybe from breaking down, maybe both. She kept on wishing that someone might approach her and wrap their arms around her until she stopped shaking, until she stopped spiralling, until her mind snapped into place. The hope was like a flickering candle in such a room that would become a pit of nothingness if the candle goes out.
But nobody - nobody moved, nobody answered, nobody cared. The little girl realised something at that moment. Wishing up on something doesn't mean your deserve it. It doesn't mean you will always get it, even when it's something so little as wanting a shoulder to anchor you out of the abyss.
All her life she had been taught that strength is what keeps a soul thriving in the world which punishes those naive enough to let weakness wrap itself around their mind. And all her life she had agreed. There was nothing wrong with being weak, the only thing that was wrong was to be helpless. Strength isn't defined as brute force alone, so the little girl made multiple definations of it. For her, if someone is intelligent then it's their strength. If someone is sharp tongued, then that's their strength. Everyone is strong in their own ways, so what is it that makes someone weak?
She used to think about that question everytime. She got different answers from different people but nothing made sense to her. Some people said that weakness is taking bad decisions, some people said that weakness is the inability to defeat anyone. So the little girl decided that she would find the answer to this question, because for her, recognising your own meaning of weakness was a strength in its own.
And now as she shivered, she finally got the answer she was seeking. Her eyes locked into the endless pair of eyes on her one by one and she picked herself up.
Weakness, she realised, isn't being weak. It is not choosing yourself again and again and again. Weakness is questioning yourself again and again and again. Weakness is letting emotions take over where they shouldn't again. And again. And again. And now that she had realised what weakness meant to her. She would be damned if she ever let herself be weak again.
Nobody gets to decide what she deserves and what she doesn't. Even if this thought seemed cruel and selfish, to the little girl it was the only thing that kept her from falling apart. She decided that day that she would never let herself be judged for being human again. She would never cry in front of anyone else again. She would never ever be weak. And she would not pushing herself for wanting something even when she didn't deserve it.
Only she gets to choose what she deserves.
The second time it didn't happen. Because none of the stares now were as nearly as cold as her own.
~☆~
I can feel myself breathing, and being able to shift slightly from where I am laying after falling from the edge of the climbing. Did I not fall all the way down to the foot of the mountain and shattered into peices? I can feel something sticky on my back.
ew.
Twinge of pain erupted at the right side of my ribs as I moved and my eyes snapped open. I can see the sky and the cold wind slap against my skin as if mocking me. Where exactly am I? Please don't tell me I am again in that dream.
I exhale. I am not in that dream again, because the world is naturally coloured around me, not the shade of blue I remember from the dream. I didn't slip, of course I didn't slip from the climbing, but rather a girl with shoulder length dark blue hair and slightly tanned skin pushed me off as if she had no idea that I will survive and contemplate her murder while bleeding on a surface of the mountain a thousand meters above the ground. She probably didn't but she should have.
I suspected from her body language that something was definately wrong with the way she seemed to have been approaching me as if not wanting to let me know that she is scooting closer. Luckily for her I wasn't in a bad mood to have slit her throat there and then for messing with me at such a critical state but if I wasn't in a bad mood then, I am definately in one now.
If she already has not fallen off the cliff or got eaten by whatever mythical creature Kyard had given me hours long lectures about, I would gladly do the honor of killing her instead once I reach up to the entrance.
I feel the sickening feeling of the wound as I palm the side of my ribs. I must have gotten it when i hit a sharp and pointy rock before my vision had blacked blacked out. I need to take care of this first or else I won't be able to move without jerking in pain whenever something brushes it.
Groaning in pain and cursing under my breath, I manage to sit up and find my bag still intact. Thank the gods at least something didn't decide to fuck with my mood more. As far as I remember, my mother had forced me to keep some bandages too because just in case. Of course she would be right. And of course I wouldn't bother to write about this in the letter.
Out in the distance, someone's scream echoes and then slowly dies. Did someone just fall? Maybe. This climbing inst exactly the ones you would go to for trekking with your friends and family. The rocks and broken parts of the mountain resembling a threshold to stand are the only things to reach up to the top. And not to mention they are always wet and slippery. Gladly I knew that something like this might become inconvenient and had chosen the boots accordingly.
Good job Ariyene.
I take out a clean cloth and my water bottle from the bag. As I pour the water on the cloth I feel something giant pass through from above me in the sky. I look up only to find nothing. Am I even hallucinating now? Or the shadow that covered me whole right now really was something giant flying past?
I pressed the wet fabric around the wound to clean off the dired blood. If I had antiseptic or whisky, it would have been great but right now I better use what I have.
Wrapping the bandages around me firmly I feel it again. And this time I look up just in time to see a giant creature with wings spread so wide they covered the while sky from my vision. Smoke seems to be dripping from its tail that look strap enough to stab a clean hold through someone.
My breath hitch as my eyes widen on their own, terror and a hint of awe fills me to the brim as the gravity of what I am seeing punches the air out of my ribs. A fucking dragon.
thankfully it passed right past me, but it was ....surprising to see a dragon in real life. I had only read about them in folklore, and mythological stories. According to which dragons and many other creatures used to exist long before. when the gods still bothered to live on the grounds instead of wherever they disappeared off to after something that happened. The common texts never specifies what led them to leave the ground. I don't know whether those stories were real or not, nobody does now, religion and the concept of divine died a long time ago. Everybody says that they are invested in the mythology but doesn't believe all of that magical stories were ever real.
Nobody in my bloodline believe in Gods, and faith and something naive like that. But grandfather still used to sneakily tell me all the stories and I grew up with a different type of attachment to them. There were countless time I had tried to find them in our grand library and even in grandfather's study but I never found them. I wonder where he always got them from.
As I finish bandaging myself and stand up to make way to the climbing and up again, a strong gust of dusty air hit me with such unbelievable force that I stagger back violently. Broken peices of gravel flew backwards too and one even managed to collide against my shoulder.
What the fuck was that?
I cough and adjust my sight to my front, whatever this was I highly doubt it was natural by any means. The dust slowly settles onto the ground and a scream threatens to escape my lungs as I take in the horror in front of me. Towering many feet above is a nightmare given shape of darkened scales and claws and wings. It is the same dragon from before now directly in front of me.
My knees give out as I hit the ground. My hands are shaking and my breath is hitching. I look up and up and up and almost have to tilt my head to a right angle to take in the giant head of the dragon only to find its purple and red eyes staring right at me with its teeth bared out slightly. This doesn't look good. There is no way in hell I will be able to get past this dragon if it's here to kill me too.
The wind and smoke settles, now silent, as if telling me that this silence up until now was just an introduction and the main show is about to start now.
I retreat backwards but not too far. I can't run. I am inches away from the cliff of the surface And this giant has occupied most of the surface. I have never ever looked at something so giant before in my entire life. It looks like this thing can collapse a peak of a mountain by its claws alone.
Silence. Ominous silence fills the surrounding and it is only broken when the dragon lowers its head and closer to me. I want to run, to hide somewhere and wait for this nightmare to vanish. But it's happening and it's real. I am so done.
"Who are you...?" Its voice rumbles throughout my own chest and I am way to shaken to form proper sentenses. Will it kill me if I don't answer or answer too late? Or will it also kill me for answering to fast?
I pause, for five seconds at max and then speak in a shaky voice, "A-Ariyene Mysts." My palms are sweating and suddenly it's too cold around me, by flame of the fallen I swear I am about to faint. But that will not improve this situation. What if it kills me for finding me too weak? But what if it also kills me for showing too much bravery?
Dragons are unpredictable creatures with too much pride. That much is very clear even throughout the folklore. Nobody knows what's the best behaviour to put up to them. Piss off a dragon and get deep fried in fire. I never really planned to meet a dragon in real life, let alone from such close quarters so of course I never really created a fake behaviour especially for dragons.
It tilts it large head, "why are you here? You are.....armed." the words are spoken like a warning and I don't know if it really has the patience to listen to me actually explain why I am here. I am here to get up to the entrance of Ayaerath of course but it seems there is actually a reason why so much of the people die climbing this mountain and not by falling alone.
"I-i fell from the...climbing a-and ended up here." I manage out. I know what to do, keep it talking to me so it genuinly forgets its real purpose towards me which is definately to make me its dinner....or lunch, whatever.
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It carries its head closer to me and now I can see deep into its eyes. It seems as though the entire universe resides inside them, and the colours keep shifting. "really?"
That's it. This is how I die because that "really" sounded more like a full stop rather than a question.
"Yes."
"and if you fell off the climbing....how did you not die?"
"I have been asking the same question to myself for months now...."
"playing jokes are we now? How foolish for such a mortal like you to think I am to laugh with."
I gulp hard. But I have literally had enough now. Maybe the best behaviour to put up to dragons is to be as much honest as you can possibly be. But not too honest to insult it. You are going to die because of that.
"I am not joking. It's true. And you would believe it too only if you knew my story."
"oh? And what is your story?"
"if we are going to have a chat, then let's firstly start with what you intent to do to me." I say, and I realise my voice isn't shaking now, if it is going to kill me, it will not do it without ending up with my dagger buried in both his eyes. That way it will not be able to see anything, and maybe during that I will be able to escape. Seems like a bad plan but at least it's better than not having any.
It didn't speak for a whole minute, but then continued, "what i intend to do with you, has absolutely nothing go do with you."
The audacity of this dragon is praiseable. Or maybe it's my audacity that should be praised. "Oh really? Then why talk with me, and not directly get to the point?"
It growls low and bares its sharp canines, "if i were you, i would watch my tounge mortal. But since you seem so presistent. Let me enlighten you. This place where you ahve supposed to be fallen is the place where the eggs of my species is kept. And a mere mortal, armed to the teeth, near the eggs is unfortunately suggests to me that you were about to commit sometging irreverible, which you also already have."
"W-what have I done? I did nothing to the eggs I-" pure existential horror embraces my chest tightly as the realisation hit me harder than a shotgun. That sticky thing I felt on my back when i woke up, don't tell me it was-
"You broke the egg that was about to hatch any day now, and now i wpuld like to ask you, how would you like to die? In fire? Or between my teeth?"
Before i could form another sentence to explain to it how it wasn't my fault he had already raised his head up. I hear it roar and its neck illuminating with red and orange lights inside and I quickly realise that it is about to breathe fire on me.
Fuck.
From this angle, the fire is most likely to hit me from where his head it, slanted. That means the place where its leg is, is the one where no fire would reach.
Without another thought, I sprint towards its left leg before the process of bringing out the fire is completed. And then everything heats up around me, I reach its leg just in but some of the fire still manages to scorch down my shirt on the back side. Fortunately my skin is still not burned.
I hear it roar out of pure malice and tilts its head towards where i am crouched down, but he doesn't raise his legs, doesn't breath fire again.
There is nothing. But silence again. And when i look back I see that there is a unfamiliar and uncomforting kind of look in its eyes, that seems to say that it has just recognised something important and froze.
And without saying anything, it launches itself up to the sky again. And I am left mouth agape, shaking, sweating and absolutely not okay by the recent events.
Why did it leave? Why did it not kill me? Was it late for something? But killing mortals doesn't take too much time, I just so happen to be a stubborn one that's all.
I watch it disappear into the mist and inhale a shaky breath. I look down to see my pendant glowing weirdly. This isn't the time to think about this now, before it returns, which I highly doubt it will, I need to move, and finally reach the gate.
~☆~
The obsidian archway that lead inside of the citadel is stained at some parts by dried blood. I wonder how many creatures have bled in here and what exactly led to such a brutal death at the gate itself. On the ground, there is a stone tile with a sentence carved on it.
In the worlds where survival is crucial and joyful, death is a sorrow.
Except for here, death is a mercy.
I wonder if this institution is what this sentence suggests. I suppose it is, because Kyard was not joking when he was telling me about its cruelty. Exorcants are never meant to be used to the luxury of being physically and mentally okay. This college tests that in multiple ways, the first years themselves go through two main trials. Three if we bother to count the climbing too.
Kyard had told me that the reason they don't count the climbing as a trial even though it's dangerous is because the leadership doesn't acknowledge the ability to merely trek as an ability it takes to be an exorcant. It's written in its constitution.
On top of the archway, there is one more thing written on the obsidian itself. And that is the part where blood is splattered the most. I try to make out the words but it is hard to read them. Even though they are stable, they keep distorting vision from reading them.
I squint a little harder and I can finally read the words, still only barely.
There is nothing more dangerous than knowledge itself.
It can easily lead to erasure.
Especially if possessed by someone hidden.
I don't exactly know what this means unlike the first one. What it is trying to imply. When I try to read it again, it doesn't work, the words have completely distorted themselves now. Whoever said this line is supposed to written here. But if the lines were hard to read the name is impossible, and I have started to get a headache staring at it for too long now.
Someone suddenly pushes me from behind. I turn around to see a bulky boy behind me. "Move, bitch. Daydream later when you are bleeding to death."
My eyes narrow and flick the dagger in my hand, "wanna know how many people I have stabbed with this dagger? None, and see, I don't think you would want to be the first person my sweetheart pierces into, would you?"
The boy just snarls at me and moves past, and through the archway. I love too, there is no work standing here for too long and besides it has started to rain.
The building that looms ahead is as big as a castle would be and perhaps bigger. But as appealing as castles look, this is the opposite of it. The whole bastion is made of dark stones and obsidian. It has only three wings, one right ahead of me, one to my right and one to my left and the windows along the walls of each floor are equidistant from each other.
Onto my left I can see another towering building but on the different hill not too far from the one where this structure stands. And onto my right, atop the plane of another hill is a very tall tower compromising of at least nine floors if I am counting right.
There are many cadets crowded in the courtyard, all soaking in rain. Maybe they are waiting to get their name enlisted as official first years before they get transported to their respective dorm rooms. On the grey concrete floor of the courtyard, a big symbol of a flame covers the most of it being at the middle.
I know what this symbol means. I have heard about it countless time from the stories of folklore, this is the Flame of Elyth which means the flame of what exists. Every species throughout different dimension and everything are said to be represent by the flame of Elyth.
Although, Kyard had told me that there are two more which are not usually stated in folklore or religious texts. The Flame of Saevin, which represents the non-existent, that are illusions and hallucinations and eternal sleep. And The Flame of Zaekyr which represents what shouldn't exist that are the corrupted. These three flames, as Kyard had stated, are a common classification structure, although they might be in different forms or different names throughout different texts and scrolls, they pattern is still common.
He had also given me examples and when I had asked him about the y'mirians, he simply said that they are of no interest to him. Which is true because they seem more like a cult rather than a religious community. While there is a dirstinction the in communities despite them believing the same mythology, it is only based which god they found the most superior. But the y'mirians believed in an entire different version of the same mythology, an alternative of what the whole world believes. Some people say that they know why the gods had left the ground, while some people say that they don't believe that divine was responsible for the well being of the world, and it were the demons instead.
As I snap my mind back into place because zoning out now wouldn't help, my eyes fall onto a tall figure of grey.
He has dark grey hair, the exact shade of the clouds before they burst and flood down an entire city. His eyes are the darkest shade of blue like the depths of the oceans where unknown creatures rule. He has sharp features and dark brows and moonlight pale skin that seems to be naturally drained of any colour. He looks like he is smoke, ash, mist and storm given the shape of a man. He is also waiting for the classification, it seems.
But I feel like I recognise the eyes from somewhere before. Not the hair, it's the first time I have ever seen someone with such unique shade. But his eyes are what gets me.
I close my eyes to try to remember just where I have seen them before and then it all suddenly clicks into place like a high tide crowing all the sand castles on the beach in an instant and leaving no trace of them.
He is the son of the high sovereign of war of the greater continent. The continent which is always at war with ours. He is the son of Aether Varynthorne. His brother led the massacre of the city of vahalia, slaughtering every single person in cold blood without any mercy. Not even the children were left.
And I was there. I was one of the children. I was the one they were truly after.
I remember blood, screams, smoke, the nauseating feeling of getting dragged through the riot by the hair. I remember everything and suddenly I am engulfed in rage. The varynthorne bloodline has always ruined everything that has ever been good about my life.
But it would be unfair....to not acknowledge what the mysts bloodline has done to them. Maybe they have been worse. Maybe the torture is on equal opportunities. For what I know, both the bloodlines have slaughtered each other for generations. My grandfather truly wanted to stop but the varynthornes, it seemed, enjoyed the blood of us on their hands too much. They killed most of the people around me after they declared war against our continent.
The eldest son of war sovereign had led the war. Schools were destroyed and the farms were too. Agricultural produce had declined so harshly that those in the smaller parts of the continent died alone by starvation.
And they also killed by grandmother. She died begging at their feet to stop but they didn't. For a whole generation the mysts didn't do anything to them, and when still continued to be tormented accepted that this conflict between us could never be solved. Never ever. That day, my grandmother's last words to me still ring on my ears, and I remember them too well to ignore the opportunity that has unveiled itself in front of me.
"Avenge me, Ariyene. Only you are the one who can, my love."
I will grandma, I will.
I watch everyone hurry towards the table across the courtyard towards the front wing. Looks like the enlistment has started.
I stride across the courtyard and take my place in the line. There are too many, almost two hundred or so, or maybe more.
One by one each one says their name and leaves to wherever the warden tells them. And I am trying to ignore the fact completely that this colourless bitch is standing literally behind me. He doesn't have any dagger on him. Stupidity or does that actually suggest something?
My turn finally comes and I step forwards, glancing around the front wing at close quarters. The archway to inside says " The scholarium wing". So this wing is where the classes are held.
The warden suddenly snaps, "Name. Species. And place you hail from."
I now once and then start to state everything she has asked, "Ariyene mysts"
The crowd around me stop chattering and turn towards me. Did I say something wrong or is this the normal reaction of hearing the name Mysts even in a pocket dimension. Even the cadets who seem to be seniors raise their eyebrows.
The warden gulps and stutters, "M-Mysts?"
"Yes."
The colourless bitch's eyes snap towards me, widening in disbelief and a hint of rage. I return the gaze with a smirk and my most precious middle finger.
The warden clears her throat. "Continue"
"A human. I hail from the Tryss province of Xha'thir continent."
She nods and I break free from the line, from here I can make out the unique appereances of different people. Some have pointy ears, they must be faes, some have entirely unique features like fucking wings. I wonder if they can fly too.
But I am at attention again as the warden orders the colourless bastard to state his whereabouts and name. I realise that I only know his last name, not first name. What if I am also wrong about his last name. What if he is someone else entirely? But judging by the expression he had on his face when he heard who I am, I am pretty sure he is a varynthorne.
"Ashenn varynthorne." He says. Of course he would be named something dramatic. I am surprisingly not surprised. Who could have thought?
After he finishes stating. He turns towards me, and I instinctively raise my dagger higher just to make him know that he should choose his words with care or else I had warned him. It's rude to catch people off guard, even when stabbing.
"Looks like the payment of mysts managed to survive."
Yeah......if My goal wasn't to kill him before, it is definately now.