Swordmaster

A Hiroh's Pain

An ambassador of peace. A disciple of the gods. A Hiroh.

I used to be all of these things. But what am I now?

Ayzel looked at the green scars running through her mark. Like wicked vines they coiled over the mark that denoted her as a magician. Choking it, crippling it. As she turned it towards the light, a faint discolouration appeared. A swirling patern that had once complimented the jagged lines of her mark.

She traced it with her finger, and her heart suddenly felt heavy. She knew the lines meant she was once bonded to a cape. But she didn't remember who that cape was. Every time she tried to think of them, her mind only drew a blank.

And it frustrated her. Ayzel wanted to mourn, reminisce, remember the feel of her cape on her shoulders. Looking at the place where a part of someone else had been etched into her skin left her hollow inside. But that was the price of angering the gods.

Ayzel tossed her tower window open, letting the salty breeze wash over her. The inky waters of the Serpent's Strait churned and gurgled and tore away at the land. From her window she could see the winking torches of Abydon like little stars in the east.

Her mind turned to the Swordmaster, and her eyes moved to the chair he'd occupied just an hour prior. Something had seemed off about him, but she couldn't quite pin down what it was. The Leandyr she remembered had been fearless, and daring, but also kind and patient.

Now he seemed... lost – an empty parody of his former self. His eyes held no light and his words were hollow.

Perhaps he's still grieving, Ayzel thought. She remember him being quite close to the Abydon Queen. It made her wonder what else had changed in her absence. She tore her eyes away from the chair and they settled on the basket of ether stones at her feet.

It had been months since she'd last used magic. The very thought of it made her stomach turn and a cold sweat break out on her skin. But she had to try. There had to be a way to work around the curse, and she wouldn't find it by cowering away from spellcasting.

Ayzel dipped her hand into the ether stones, grabbing a fistful. Their light leaked out between her fingers and cast a soft glow on the windowsill. It's just a spell, she reminded herself. Casting was a simple thing for magician. Or it was supposed to be.

She sucked in a breath and recited the incantation on her exhale. The ether stones melted into liquid heat, their magic seeping into her hand. A jolt of pain shot through her mark and up to her elbow, making her knees weak. She clutched the windowsill hard as a sheen of sweat broke out on her skin. "Come on, come on."

Wind curled over her arm and shot out the window, screaming through the night before dispersing into small whirlwind.

Ayzel leaned her head against the window's frame, the cool surface chilling her fevered skin. The salty air blowing in from the strait made her stomach churn, and she threw an arm out to close the window.

It was just as painful as she remembered it. Like someone was snapping the bones in her hand one by one. She held it against her chest, the rough green scars chaffing her skin. Perhaps she'd find answers at the temple of the healing goddess.

So far she'd visited half the temples in Magika, and all her prayers had fallen on deaf ears. Things would be different this time. She'd get the answers she wanted. That had been her hope every time she'd traveled to a new region. And that hope was the only thing keeping her going.

A sound came from below her, tearing through her thoughts and dashing them away. It was a deep, animalistic grumble that shook the tower. Ayzel knew that sound well. She'd heard it only once before, but it had stuck with her, a haunting shrill from a time long past.

It had given her chills then. It gave her chills now.

Ayzel was on her feet and running from the room. She grabbed the nearest lantern to light her path, holding it aloft with one hand while gripping the hem on her dress with the other. The slap of feet against the stone filled the stairwell as she descended the winding tower steps.

Beyond the small dining chamber was a wooden door that led down into the cliff. The magical reinforcements in the wood vibrated through her hand when she pushed it open, grunting as she put all of her weight into the effort.

The air beyond the door smelled of salt and sea foam. Ayzel took tentative steps down the damp stairwell, the moist air chilling her skin. Gurgling noises reached her ears, growing louder as she continued her descent. She hugged the wall tight, running her hand along it as her flickering torch battled the darkness.

Ayzel turned one final bend and the stairwell opened to a grotto. But she wasn't prepared for the scene there. Blood coated the stalagmites that lined the shore and red scales were in the sand and floating on the water.

Amongst it all was Enduwir. His turquoise scales were broken, mangled and missing in large patches. Red scales were embedded all over his serpentine body and his dorsal fin was sitting at an awkward angle.

"Oh, Enduwir." Ayzel rushed to where his head was laid amongst the stalagmites. "No, don't get up," she said, when he lifted his head in a weak attempt to greet her. "Dear gods..." She laid a hand on his snout, and he curled one of his luminescent whiskers around her arm.

There wasn't much in the realm that could do this kind of damage to a monolith of Enduwir's size and strength. A small army of magicians perhaps.

Or... another monolith.