Ascension of Blood

2

2

The City of Westwitch was two weeks travel from the farm outside of Millpeak, and further still from their final destination at the Academy. Traveling again after so long felt like shrugging into an old tunic and trousers. She still fell into the same routine; belongings packed well before the carriages arrived, several vials of blood packed in a satchel she kept on her person, along with her journal, chains, and padlocks. But there was a hesitation to leaving. Still she lingered by the farms, even after the tall, pale replacement Aimamancer came to work in her place.

That night she was huddled into a carriage with both her father, and favian, and as the horses pulled from from the farm grounds, Mijora never stopped looking out of the curtains to see it as she ran her fingers across her newly split lip.

She did not recall the beating in it's entirely as the Monster consumed her, but the crates with her belongings in no longer had that awful DaVal insignia on the top, just claw marks and blood.

"I will not have you embarrass me in that Academy." Her father had said to her now, blood still upon his knuckles

Like I could ever meet your standards, she thought bitterly in her head.

The Monster hissed in agreement, a low warning sound with teeth.

"You will be groomed and polished during our travels. Your time here has made you weak like your mother was. No blood of mine will be weak."

"Im not weak." She dared say as she met his eyes, her knees wobbling. She did not remember the pain but her body did.

"The fact you rely on that Devil so much says otherwise." Her father muttered, voice laced with disappointment.

"What do you know about the Academy?" Favian asked, staring the conversation into another direction. "What did she tell you?"

It sounded too much like they had something to hide. Mijora swallowed, her fingernails scratching at her skin of her forearm. "Just about her friends mostly, and how she met you." Mijora said, wishing her words sounded braver than they sounded. "She didn't really go into much detail."

"Not surprising." Favian muttered shaking his head. "That woman never talked about yesterday's weather, never mind her childhood."

"Hmm," her father hummed, knuckles rattling on the windows one, twice, three times. "It's grueling. It made me into the man I am today. Strong. Powerful." He said, his eyes cast to the window briefly, as if recalling a memory, but they quickly returned boring heavily into her. "It nearly ended me on multiple occasions. The teachers there will not go easy on you. And you will not fall behind, do you hear me?"

"I probably know more than them all already." Mijora muttered. "You made sure of that in the past few years."

"Yes, well, we dont want to show off too quickly, do we? Otherwise they'd start to question why youre there at all."

She clenched her teeth, wishing for the comfort of her scythe in her hands, something, to keep her nails from dragging across her skin leaving long red welts on her forearms.

By that evening, her father and Favian had moved to another carriage. There was a whole procession of them. Five in total consisting of servants, their belongings and travel supplies. She was left alone, horribly aware of the change in the air and the taste of blood on her lips.

Are you with me? She asked.

Until the end, the Monster purred back.

Even in the carriage she went through the motions of bolting the wooden door shut, though she doubted that the thin wood would keep her contained should the Monster desire to claw it down. Nevertheless, she padlocked it tight, and peeked through the curtains to see the sun set across the horizon. But as soon as she lay down across the cot in the back, she stopped being Mijora, for when they opened back up not a moment later, they were as dark as shadow.