To Imagine...

Chacda (4)

Dusky hair, sharp eyes. Short, slim, darkly dressed, with stubble and two swords crossed over each of their backs. Incessantly unpleasant.

My time alone was spent in a steady discomfort. Palms up, I studied the new burns that I had received from the shackles in a somber mood. Painted in a rose-like color, it stuck out angrily against the white of my skin.

My mood darkened further.

A long, faded coat lay under me, the edges sprinkled with shaivon dust: bright pink and sparkling blue, generously coating every surface around me. I could feel its presence like a physical weight, choking my magic and sapping it slowly with a burning pain. I sheltered it like a flame, closest to my center, reined in tight in an attempt to reduce the draining and the pain. Regardless, I felt the heaviness seeping into my bones as fatigue set in. Even as I drew breath, it felt as the air entered my throat and never found my lungs, starving me of my very essence.

My despise grew with every passing moment. And with each moment, Tetherel's words dug deeper.

The blood had never really washed out. My hair was stained a blotchy pink and brown from the color that had caked into it. Once I was given the opportunity to bathe, it was definitely too late. My albino-white hair never stood a chance, though it had seen worse. I wore this hooded cloak to conceal unfortunate circumstances such as this normally, much like the rest of my body, for the same reason. Today I sat on that cloak for protection against my prison.

Her words stuck with me as my mind raced. I wallowed in my thoughts.

I remembered nothing of value from that night. Though the twins pushed to leave and arrive in Meyak by sundown, Tetherel would hear nothing of it. She sent them away, leaving us alone to speak in private.

The outskirts of Meyak lay six hours north-west from Schak by carriage, and while we didn't expect any trouble on the way, Tetherel had brought a whole entourage for the ride. I suspected that it was more for the destination than their travel.

I had told Tetherel she should not trust me in the proximity of others, especially after what she had told me. The twins had a lot to say on that topic, and it was decided that I would not leave the carriage while in Meyak unless it became necessary. As it was now, I wondered quietly of how much use I could be, locked in this lumbering brown box.

Perhaps it was for the best.

I was condemned to the sinking feeling in my gut for the rest of the ride. Tetherel had recounted the scene of the attack for me, when it came out that I did not remember it at all. It had been an invasion of Zaiken for which no one had been prepared.

It all started with the death of a child who ran, shrieking, across the grass to the courtyard. Speared from behind and trampled, they swarmed across his body, and then a haze darkened into a blank memory. But that, I had remembered: the terror in his young face.

The Zaiken had been disguised among the assembled, walking among us and conversing as seamlessly as any Andhérak. The rise of emotion had betrayed them--they likely hadn't expected the child to announce their presence as he had.

I leapt from the platform and beheaded the nearest to show its face. A trader come to make connections and devise new trade routes crumpled beneath your blade. You had spoken together earlier on the subject, though I had expected no ill will between you. He was no Zaiken.

I forced my way into the battle, but it was as if for every one I killed, two, three, four more appeared. My Two, Vivox and Aiké, strained to defend against the rush. The Zaiken had the advantage of surprise and were able to quickly execute those closest to them, gathering together to build a front against us. We barreled into them with a score of others, the earth rupturing and fire blazing under spells from each side. I saw you behind us, tearing through the crowd like a blade through water. We had driven far into the fight, keeping distance from those around us as the crossfire of others' magic created a haphazard flurry that blurred whose were Andhérak and whose were Zaiken. Like you were dancing you moved among the crowd, leaping over bodies before they had even fallen, whether still alive or if you had killed them. You seemed to be moving purposefully, unstoppable to reach your objective.