❛power isn't everything. it's the only thing.❜
[complete]
wattys 2018 winner ❧
Lin is a hunter, one of the magically enhanced witch slayers that roam a flooded world. Under the laws of four Kings and Greymark, who rules them all, Lin is unto...
"Power tends to corrupt; absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men."
―Lord Action
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Lin tried not to think about magic much. It made her head hurt. The nature of her job made it inevitable, though, and the pretty lines between good and evil that Greymark liked to draw blurred far too easily. She would never bring it up to his face, though. Not unless she wanted to get a rise out of him and possibly lose her head. There were few things in the world that could drive Greymark to rage and telling him he was wrong was one of them.
Lin stumbled to a halt, glancing over her shoulder at the rippling silver portal behind her. It settled almost immediately, turning to an innocuous mirror. Lin huffed and pulled her jacket away from her chest, wincing as dry blood cracked against her skin.
The portal room was cramped and uncomfortable, painted an ugly yellow-beige with an unfinished wood floor. It creaked under her boots as she passed by the small window that illuminated the room. White molding lined the floor.
A child's bedroom, Alekhine had said once. She didn't ask what he meant, the man had a habit of saying random snippets of sentences. She'd rarely asked what he meant. He just did things and she didn't care. She still didn't care. Lin supposed she should feel bad about that.
After all, it had led to his death.
The reddish-grey sea frothed in the distance, just beyond rows of neat little houses and planned green areas. Lin hummed and pressed her finger to the glass. Greymark had built his entire home on nostalgia. The island looked more like a pre-Flood city than a deadwater island, complete with little fences and expensive replica furniture.
The entire island was technically covered by a single building, the Manor, another marvel of engineering. None of the Librarians managed to figure out how it worked as far as she knew, the intricate tunnels underground vanishing into nowhere. Most of the hunters knew it was magic. But it took some figuring to understand it wasn't hunter magic, not even witch magic.
Lin lowered her gaze and smeared a little smiley face on the window. She dotted a rusty nose and smiled back at it.
Greymark was a beast of his own. Not a witch, not a hunter. Some ancient being who lived for centuries and wielded a far subtler power.
She couldn't wait to kill him.
Lin hummed to herself and spun on her heel, creaking across the floor and stepping out the door.
The Manor had a single main room where all the halls spat out their contents. Rows of pillars supported the high ceiling, letting out in the middle to spill sunlight into the cream-toned room. A fountain of clean water burbled in the center.
