The Night Rider

Chapter 66 - Catalyst

Another prophecy.

Fucking great.

Plans that had stretched years, decades before Nivara herself was even born, heck even before her grandmother’s time had just been unravelled within a single meeting. 

The scale of it was…unfathomable.

True Keeper’s of Trait. That word. Twisted into so many meanings no matter how simple the definition, by such a troubling concept. Belief. These leaders all believed. In one way or another. In the Laia, in their Trait. In themselves. They all believed they were right and those who were right tended to force change, force their beliefs until they were the truth. People like the Mist Maiden’s. People like the Council of Names. People like the Timekeeper. People…like her.

But Nivara knew there was one, undeniable truth that made her want to run from the world.

She and Kaldra were now trapped in this fucking mess.

All of this mess, all of this bullshit doctrine of the First Law, the destruction of the Seven Scripts were based on the whims of a stubborn, biassed, old man who was probably long dead in the ground. If he was a necromancer then she’d hoped he’d at least be ashes by now. But Anirri wasn’t.

Part of Nivara simply refused to believe in the Council of Names' motives, her stubbornness towards the Laia’s justice seeking warriors had poisoned the taste of Anirri’s assured words. But the last words the Fatekeeper spoke wouldn’t leave her head. Together or alone. Was that what it would all come down to? Bonds of trust that were more fragile than ever? She didn’t need to live among the Mist Maiden’s chains to know that was unlikely. But,,,she couldn’t deny the ember of hope in such a lofty goal.

Nivara bit her lip, not wanting to linger on her wavering trust for the Tinker Mole.

To think in only a few months she, the granddaughter of Aidari had gone from an overachieving priestess to a cynical revolutionist and back again. She didn’t know what the other Stormkeeper’s would think of that. The Silt Pillar incident hadn’t helped things but now hearing all of it was far bigger than Nivara ever thought possible. 

How many Stormkeeper’s had fallen before her? Who had struggled with their Trait, their home, their friends, how many of them had failed just as she had and had now…been forgotten. Some powerful crackpot leaders had decided to steal not only her memories but the entire populations all for the slim, vague chance at ending the curse of the Eternal Death. Yet no one here gave a shit.

“Can’t you see? We're on the right path!” Calvaros insisted, rising to his feet despite the force of power in front of him.

Havalog’s threw their warhammers into the air in retaliation, waving them like flags of outrage at the Tinker Moles attempting to block them from Lady Anirri’s sight, Hack’s long, lizard-like tail sweeping his charge close so as not to harm her further. Anirri’s eyes were closed tight, barely clinging to her treasured staff without keeling over, her once immaculate fur stained with soot and sweat from the sheer effort it took to stand. Still, she did not sit and offer herself rest. Not when there was work to do.

“No, she could’ve lied! Just like the Timekeeper-“

“You’d want to believe in that, wouldn’t you? My Master did not lie to suit himself! Can you truly say the same about a stolen title?” Kalaris hissed, sneering beneath the brim of her hat, a hidden dagger in her expression alone.

Nivara turned away, caught between the strain on Calvaros’ face, Tuskarr’s screams of indignation and Sashio’s backlash against his attempts to defend the Fatekeeper’s leadership. A leadership that was now being put into question. Nivara sighed, more to herself than anything else as she tried not to listen to any more fanatical screamings about paths and the Laia’s will. The private moment between Hack and Anirri was long soured, the Fatekeeper’s voice barely audible to get anything more about this so-called prophecy.