𝙎𝘼𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝙋𝙊𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙄𝘼𝙇

Chapter 2, Not so Special Boy turned Special

   The Female watched on as the not so special child raced ahead of her comrades. Admirable. The young child, a moderately tall brunette girl, was training. The training was simple enough, just an endurance race. The Female could see the flaws in the young chicks technique, racing ahead was not the smartest move.
    
     What the child should have done was stay near the middle and back, waiting for the top racers to tag out due to exhaustion. Though it seemed the young girl had infinite amounts of endurance, and therefore would've won either way. Perhaps The Cart would appreciate her.
    
     Her hair was tied back, strands coming loose and falling in front of her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed red, blood rushing to her head as she ran. Her breaths were short and shallow, showing she was having at least a little bit of trouble keeping pace, and sweat dribbled down her forehead. She would be an excellent choice for The Armored or The Female with her determination.
    
     Not so far behind the not so special girl was the not so special boy. He had a determined look in his eyes and was making sure not to try so hard. While it was obvious he wouldnt be able to beat the first girl, it was also true that he had figured out not to tire out too quickly. This boy, with enough training he would grow to be perhaps the fastest out of all of them. He was admirably smart, though he seemed to jump into trouble without thinking often times. He would make an excellent Cart, perhaps an even better candidate for The Jaw.
    
     Behind the young boy was a tall and lanky girl. Her silvery hair was tied back in a low ponytail, bangs sticking to a sweaty face. This girl didnt seem to be having much trouble keeping up with the not so special child, her long legs keeping her right behind her comrade. Her cheeks were not as flushed, and her breaths were not so shallow. If this girl became special she would be an excellent choice for The Cart, or even The Female.
    
     The last in place was yet another boy. He seemed to be waiting for the others to drop from exhaustion. Very smart, very smart indeed. A look into his physique would show that he very well could be near the front, but willingly chose to take the longer route to winning instead. His glasses seemed to fog up with each breath, showing that while he was in the back he was at least moderately trying. He was the second tallest of the four children, right behind the girl with a stoic face. He would make a magnificent Colossal or Warhammer, if they were to ever get them back.
    
     In all honesty, the likelyhood of these children gaining a power other than The Armored, The Beast, The Jaw, or The Cart was staggeringly low. Her own holder, Annie Leonhardt, was still stuck on Paradis, living out her term in a crystal abyss, waiting to die. The Colossal, having not been lost for long, was able to clue her in on their new holder, a short boy of the Arlert family. The Founding and Attack were on the same island, though they had been missing for so long that she could not tell you what their holder was doing. And The Warhammer seemed very adament on staying with the Tyburs who they are so fond of.
    
     A whistle was blown, and the brunette was deemed the winner. She was bowed over, catching her breath with a smile plastered on her face. The current Armoured watched on with a very similar, albeit smaller, smile. If it was up to her, Reiner of Braun would've never became the current Armoured. It was very obvious he was not fit for the roll, not fit to be special. Though each and every time she brought it up, her sibling told her that he was simply an excellent protector.
    
     Protecting, that's what The Armoured is used for. They were the shield. They protected and protected until there was nothing left to keep safe. It was stupid, she thought. If it was up to her, the Armored would've been an assault unit used to plow down whatever they wanted. Making your ability to protect others the only thing you're ever good at was stupid, you'd spend all your energy on making sure others are safe without ever caring to make sure you are too. This could lead to deaths, lots of them if you weren't able to protect others because you couldn't make sure you were constantly up for it.
    
     She blinked and found herself back in paths. In front of her sat the two children's souls. Falco of Grice's soul was so close to the surface that with a wave of your hand you could clear off the layer of sand that lay atop it. Either he would get one of the nine soon, or well.. Who knows what would happen if a non-shifters soul was brought to the surface.
    
     Just behind his, was Gabi of Brauns. It was clear that hers would take longer to see the surface than her friends, but it was still too dangerously close. If they did meet the surface, would they become a shifter? Perhaps they would become like them, a byproduct of mother? But surely mother would've told them if The Nine would become The Eleven. And if this was true, why two random children? Sure, her and her siblings took on the form of their first individual holders, but is this what it looks like from an outside persepctive? Would these two children get their own abilities-
     
     A hand was put on her shoulder. The Cart. Her dear sibling.
    
     "Your worrying again, Fe."
    
     "They're about to reach the surface, y'know."
    
     "I know. When it happens we will deal with it," a smile appeared on their lips, "but until then, dont worry your little head about it."
    
     Silence struck between the two, neither responding. They both looked at the souls, possibilities running through their heads.
    
     "Art, do you think they'll be like us?"
    
     A slap to her head and an annoyed sibling.
    
     "What did I just tell you? Wait and we'll see!"
    
     "Yeah, yeah..."
    
     Silence again, though this time more comfortable. The Cart sat down, leaning back on their palms. Following their lead, The Female laid to rest as well, sand collecting in her blonde hair. Looking up at the sky, or what they could call the sky, the two watched as souls raised to the heavens and disappeared. From a distance it looked like reverse snowfall, rain or hail even.
    
     Off to the side was The Jaw, who appeared to be chasing The Armored. The Warhammer was watching from a distance, content on their face. The Beast was building what appeared to be a sandcastle, a smile slowly appearing. Mother was nowhere to be found, though if she strained her eyes she could just barely make out three figures in the distance. They were far to far away for her to reach, it would take months, years even, to catch up to them. If she were to turn her head, she could see the eyeless shifters of the past.
    
     They stand there, trapped in an invisible cage. They weren't awake, though conscious she's sure. She wondered what it would be like, to be trapped in time with all those limitations. Paths was finicky, though it was clear that time moved differently than on the Earthern Plain.
    
     They'd be forever frozen, only awoken if Mother or perhaps even someone of the royal bloodline chose to awaken them. Though that's just what they're told, they've never actually tried to wake one up. If they did, who knows what would happen!
    
     Her thoughts were taken as The Cart rose to their feet almost as quick as The Jaw could run. They were yelling, getting everyone's attention.They were pointing, fingers flailing everywhere. Their siblings, sans the ones to far away to hear, were just as quick to come over. She, herself, got to her feet as well. One look at what their dear sibling was pointing at made her gasp in shock.
    
     The boys soul was ever so slightly shuffling it's way to the surface. as the sand gradually fell off of it, the green color illuminated all of its surroundings. As the last fleck of sand tumbled away, the ball of life began to morph. 'So there is going to be another? Will we be called The Ten now?'
    
     The legs were the first to form, coming out fast and lumpy. When they began to take their final form, the arms sprout our as well. They were built with purpose, coming out slow and already in their final form. The torso was stretched and the neck was formed soon after, a head attaching itself. The form shifted for what felt like hours before it illuminated itself so bright they could not see. When the light died down, all that was left was the boy.
    
     ...
    
     "Is it dead?"
    
     "No, he's not dead!"
    
     "Oh my god, did we kill a kid?"
    
     "Jaw- Dear lord, we did not kill the kid!"
    
     "You don't know that! It could very well be dead right now-"
    
     "Quiet!"
    
     The Cart, their saviour, was cradling the boy. He seemed to be asleep and thankfully not dead. the problem was that he was not a shifter and was in paths. Their sibling was running their fingers through the child's hair (Falco of Grice, her mind supplied.)
    
     "I have an idea."
    
     Thank the gods.
    
     "We need to find Mother."
    
     "Fuck."

     'Great choice of words, Jaw, great choice of words.'