Thacea
“I don’t know how much of this is true.” Emma began with a frustrated huff. “I don’t even know if any of this was even real. It could’ve just been a complete fabrication, my higher functions’ vain and vapid attempts at interpreting the random strings of nonsensical electrical discharges from my brain ure. That’s what the evidence would lead to believe, that’s what was most logically happening, if we were to shear this whole thing using Occam's razor.”
My eyes narrowed at that latter allusion, a fact that Emma noticed but sothing that I managed to discern on my own through context clues and the occasional leap of logic.
With a wordless nod from my end, she continued.
“It started, ironically, like a lot of pre-seizure auras do — with a sense of creeping dread.” Emma sighed out. “But then… the chis returned. This… this one vital detail is what’s keeping the start of this theory together, Thacea. Because if you recall—”
“You’ve reported these chis before, a sort of… prelude to your exposure to taint.” I reasoned before my eyes widened once more with a looming realization. “The ‘alarm’ your people spoke of during this communique. Could it be—”
“The sa thing, yeah.” Emma nodded vehently. “That’s… that’s what I assud too, but I couldn’t interrupt to ask. There was just so much going on that I completely disregarded it and—” She stopped herself, took a breath, then steadied herself once again. “There is… a non-zero chance that they experienced what I did. Though I can’t say for certain if everyone was affected. But… that’s neither here nor there. I’m not here to speculate on things on Earth’s end. I just… I just needed to make ntion of the chis.”
“As you should.” I acknowledged. “The patterns at play are… difficult to ignore, making your case all the more compelling.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Thacea.” Emma spoke with a renewed vigor; a much needed reprieve for what was to co next. “Anyways, yeah, I heard the chis, then… nothing. Silence, and not the sort of silence you’d experience in one of those anechoic chambers either. It was… more like a lack of the sense of hearing altogether. The sa applied to sight, sll, touch, proprioception, everything. It was like I was floating in space, or one of those sensory deprivation tanks, but taken to its logical extre.”
I felt, for a brief mont, the spell of Emma’s lackadaisical remarks taking hold of my faculties once more.
Sensory deprivation tanks…
There was… an unfathomable — and frankly distressing — amount to address in that one simple aside alone.
And yet, this wouldn’t be the fullest extent of these Allusionary Shadows, as I’d elected to refer. Or more poetically, the Shadows Left in Emma’s Wake.
“If I were to take a page out of the worst of the corpo handbooks, I’d even liken it to one of those—”
…
A series of unintelligible sounds — words, clearly — escaped from Emma’s mouth.
It was brief, barely noticeable to most, but it was present.
And the lack of an imdiate High Nexian analogue, especially when given Emma’s own explanations as to how her translator worked, imparted on a modicum of concern.
“—complete brain removal for the purposes of mindscape transfer experints, but specifically one of those where the brain’s taken out without connecting it to any dedicated or even artificial sensory prostheses. So the mind within is just left… hanging there, without stimuli, not even fake signals.”
I stared blankly into Emma’s visor. My thoughts, my mind, running through the dark ramifications of this… frankly barbaric practice.
It beca very much clear why a direct translation wasn’t possible.
Because the topic at hand — this brief aside into what was supposed to be a simple allegory — was as remarkable as it was disturbing in its twisted depths; a dark foray into the absolute limits of unrestrained creativity rivalled only by the forbidden arts.
“Er, just to be clear, these sorts of things are relegated to the history books—”
“I know, Emma. You’ve ntioned this… ‘corpo age’ before.” I acknowledged.
“Yeah, I guess I have. Though we’ll have to actually dive deep into it so other ti. Er, suffice it to say, I believe what I experienced, at least at first, felt like I was reduced to a floating consciousness, disconnected from everything. My mind was panicking, of course… or at least one part of my mind was.” Emma paused, poising herself for another developnt. “Because while I was stuck in that weird headspace, there happened to be this other side of , one that seed hellbent on keeping calm, and whose attempts succeeded for a distressingly large part of that whole episode. It was weird, like two diatrically opposed ntalities operating on entirely different tunes that just couldn’t be reconciled. But after a while, after literally stewing in my own thoughts, the world started to suddenly co into focus. It’s difficult to describe but it sorta felt like everything just started… coming into fra, all at once, with faint and starry ‘skies’ above , a horizon in the distance, and weirdest of all — a reflective surface beneath . Sort of like a pool but not. Since my footsteps didn’t really make waves in it or anything.”
I listened intently, Emma’s accounts resonating with a wisp of a mory that I scarcely interacted with, one that I hardly had a reason to rember.
“I don’t know why but I think I was weirdly enamored by my reflection. Now, I know I’m definitely good-looking—” Emma paused, once again interjecting that absurdist Earthrealm humor into the fray with a faux flex of both arms. “—but I’m nowhere near narcissistic enough to be that enamored by my looks.” She chuckled fitfully, clearing her throat before continuing. “Things really escalated from here on out. Thalmin’s voice sohow broke through the overwhelming nothingness, snapping out of my weird… fugue, and bringing my rational mind back front and center. From there, I ran. With no real sense of direction, and no visual markers, I just… booked it. I didn’t know for how long or how far, but the only change I noticed was my reflection.”
I leaned in closer, Emma taking a mont to catch her breath.
“Because as I ran, I noticed the reflection suddenly refusing to follow. It was dragged along alright, but it didn’t match my motions. You’d think this was the weirdest part of this whole, but no.” Emma mirrored my motions, leaning in closer to bridge the gap. “It broke through the reflective surface, the water, and it grabbed my ankle.”
A deep sense of unease manifested across my features as I held my breath for what was inevitably to co.
“But that was it. That… was all it did. I looked down and it just stared at blankly, with eyes that had turned completely pitch black. It let go eventually but not after I felt this weird sense of… serenity taking over. And after a while… a long, long while of staring down to watch this doppelganger, it decided to point at the skies above, tapping the now-hardened reflective surface incessantly.”
“And what did you see?” I urged.
“Color. An explosion of color as far as the eye could see. I saw nebulae, plus of interstellar gas and the twinkle of a trillion stars held within. But in the midst of it all, contrasting starkly with the brilliance of the birth of a universe, was a lingering splotch of dark. If… if I recall correctly, the doppelganger tapped harder at that point… and that’s about it. The next thing I know, I’m waking up to a very concerned Thalmin and a very confusing dical report. I wrote everything I could about the whole event down but… I really, really wish I had a cara with . I could’ve taken a snapshot of the stars and had it cross-referenced with known stellar charts and—”
“Emma.” I interjected reflexively without a mont’s hesitation. “Have you checked your ankle?”
The human stopped.
Her entire form suddenly lost all of the enthusiasm present just a second ago, arms hanging limp and posture stiffening to a board-like rigidity.
“W-what do you an, Thacea?” She responded plainly. All of the grand sweeping monologues, all of the vivid and detailed accounts, all of it reduced to this mortified soldier who understood well what I was suggesting.
“Have you or have you not checked for any marks where the entity touched you?”
“I wasn’t—” Emma responded before clearing her throat. “No.” She corrected darkly before imdiately getting up from the armchair.
Not a word was exchanged following this, not even an attempt to defuse the situation with that absurdist humor of hers.
Instead, a knowing dread settled on the both of us, one that followed Emma with every rushed step of the way towards the tent.
I watched in silence at the routine that bordered on ritual, each second dragging on for what felt like hours as the droning and whining of the manaless enclosure felt as if it was taking disproportionately longer than it should.
Finally, it stopped.
At which point, I knew she was properly inside.
A part of wished that the tent’s fabric wasn’t so opaque.
A part of wanted to see inside.
I needed to see if she’d been marked.
…
I took a deep breath, taking careful, asured steps towards the demarcated periter of her domain.
“Emma?” I questioned impatiently. “Are you okay? Do you see any—”
“Gi— GLEGH… J-ju—”
THWUMP!
“Emma?! What happened?! Are you hurt?!!!” I urged, moving closer out of concern… only to realize the leypull of the situation.
I couldn’t help even if I wanted to.
The weight of my earlier warnings, my pointed pleas to this very eventuality, abruptly reared its unwanted head with the malevolent irony of an oracle scorned.
I stood there now in silence.
A thousand considerations, and ten thousand more plans ca and went, all reaching the sa disquieting conclusion.
Anything I did, any attempt at aid, was fruitless.
All I could do now was wait, hoping for a response and praying the vibrations within were an indicator as to—
“I fell out.” Ca Emma’s exhausted answer, causing the mild panic welling within to montarily cease.
“You what?” I replied reflexively, that abruptness in delivery and the extemporaneous tone of Emma’s words… clashing with the reality I’d scarcely just assembled.
“You should be more careful, Emma.” I retorted sternly and bluntly, partially relieved but likewise unamused by her wanton disregard for all matters pertaining to caution. I sighed but moved swiftly in an effort to return to the pressing matter at hand. “Now, do you see anything on your ank—”
“H-hold on. I need to get these stupid layers off…” Emma interjected, clearly exasperated herself, as the occasional grunt, groan, and whine ca through the tent’s oratoracles. “It’s… much… harder… than you… think.” She spoke between tired and ragged breaths. “A whole week… is enough to ss up your… I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s just, even with training and the armor’s automatic systems, you just… you kind of adjust to moving with sothing, and overcompensating for weight, volu, space and… wait there’s a term for this.”
Emma’s speech once again paused, and in a forced stutter, her translations continued as best as they could.
“Abnormal compensation of movent due to sustained changes in environntal factors. Yeah, that’s what it’s called.”
“I sympathize with your plight, Emma.” I offered softly. “However, there is no need to inspect everything, I simply wish to know if your ankle—”
“Doesn’t work that way. It’s a one-piece situation here, so just hang on, I’m kinda cramping up… just… UGH, co on… THERE!”
I blinked.
My heart raced now as I could only imagine what was happening within, and the fated response which had the potential to redefine everything.
“Erm, Thacea?”
“Yes? What do you see?”
…
“There’s nothing here. I’m cross-referencing last week’s dical reports and yeah, nothing. Not even a bruise or discoloration.”
A sigh of relief escaped my beak, but before I could manage out any reassuring words, Emma was quick to follow up on her own response.
“What… what was I supposed to see?” She questioned before suddenly following it up with what I could charitably describe as a flurry of eccentric postulations. “Wait, wait a minute. There’s a mark here… but it’s a birthmark, d-does… does that count? Does that an I was always marked for this? Is this so weird tiy-wiy rewriting destiny thing? Did it go back in ti to sohow mark from birth so that I’ve always had this and am only now realizing what it is? Is this so kind of chosen one thing? Is that what all of this is?”
“No, Emma.” I responded with a sobering stoicism aid to defuse Emma’s overactive imagination. “That’s not how any of this works.” I reasserted. “What you were supposed to see— Correction. What I had feared you would see, was the mark of the Veil Wing. I admit, it was a rather presumptuous notion. But your story — your recollection — it brought about mories of childhood tales which should have remained as such. I had correlated, naively so, that your experiences were analogous to so of our inexplicable encounters with…” I paused, struggling, trying to find the words in High Nexian. “... a subconscious of sorts.”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringent.
“I don’t think I’m following, Thacea.”
“Allow to rephrase this.” I took a deep breath. “Your story, more specifically your encounters with this calr, seemingly bizarre alternate self, is one that is well known to us avinor. Your inability to reconcile with the discrepancy between you and your other, the inability of this other to truly grasp, grapple, and communicate in any aningful way, and its constant attempts to keep you calm — all of it is reminiscent of our stories of the Shadow Soul. A a being that exists in dormancy, lying in wait, manifesting only during sleep for so and flight for others. It… was academically disproven in the eyes of the Nexus, but in old Aetheron culture, we believed this to be a shadow of our identity, one that erges in our place during our sleep and long flights.”
“Wait.” Emma spoke up abruptly. “Are you saying that avinor don’t enter a full on mode of sleep like elves and lupinors do, for instance? Like you’re sort of asleep, but kind of awake at the sa ti? One eye open, one eye closed sorta deal? The lights are on but nobody’s ho? I hope I’m making sense here… heh…”
My eyes narrowed at Emma’s counter question, my mind racing with its implications.
How did she…
“Yes.” I acknowledged, deciding to acknowledge the present, first and foremost. “There are particular variations depending on the particular race of avinor, but all share in this experience in one way or another.”
Not a single word left my beak following my response as a dawning, almost creeping realization suddenly ca upon .
There were no other races that shared this unique… propensity for consciousness and awareness. And for Emma to have imdiately leaped at that prospect, without giving it a mont’s hesitation… was it possible, could it even be feasible that she could be another form of avi—
“Then yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Unihemispheric slow wave sleep, that’s what our scientists call it at least.”
Perhaps it was my turn to carry the baton of Emma’s eccentric postulations.
Alas, before I could dwell on the possibilities, it was Emma herself who dragged back to the pertinent topic at hand.
“So… what I’m understanding here is this: you’ve sort of personified the weird ‘consciousness’ that ‘takes over’ during your half-awake state right?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” I acknowledged. “Those who still cling onto the old faiths believe that this other exists as a shadow to our identity. Though their awareness, their ‘personhood’ so to speak, was highly debated amidst many avinor theological circles. When they still existed, that is.” I steadied myself, returning to the role I was ant to play. “Your encounter with this other, your Shadow Soul, reminded of such. However, what was truly remarkable, and worrying, was the fact it managed to interact with you. Everything up to that point had been… familiar. The reflections, the calm, and even the tantrums it displayed. But when it breached that barrier, reaching for you, that’s when matters escalated from a rare but benign interaction, to an incident of fate-defining concern. Because in that mont, as your Shadow’s eyes filled with darkness, there was a chance — however small — that sothing else had taken control of it. Another entity, another being, with a desire to communicate… though to what ends, depends entirely on what old faith you worship. To so, it could be a blessing, a communion with the gods. To others, it is an attempt to brand you as a slave to the whims of spiteful gods.”
“The mark of the Veil Wing or whatever, right?” Emma questioned.
“Yes. Though there are other marks too.” I acknowledged. “Because to most of the old faiths, the truth lies sowhere in between. As these spirits and deities wish to rely… point you towards a path they deem to be best.”
“Best for whom, though?”
“That’s the most frustrating aspect about it, Emma.” I acknowledged. “It’s never specified. Sotis it’s what’s best for the gods themselves, sotis it’s for the good of the world, in others it’s what’s best for you personally. Regardless, the result is the sa… a brand, mark, tattoo, or so sort of lingering reminder of their touch.”
Emma paused for a mont, resigning herself to a long and drawn-out sigh of frustration.
“I don’t imagine there’s anything on chis preceding the arrival of any of these gods, is there?”
“Not to my knowledge, no.”
“Right…” She breathed a deep breath before chuckling darkly. “Okay, well, at least the good news is that I’m not branded or marked or anything. That tracks with the inability for taint to physically affect . But I still can’t consign myself to ignoring the whole dream sequence. There has to be sothing to it, right?”
“We can continue our investigations in the library.” I reasoned. “In the anti, I believe it would be best that you do… whatever it is you need to do in there, Emma.”
“Already way ahead of you.” Emma responded abruptly.
“Excuse ?”
“Oh, yeah, while you were going on with your explanations I just decided to hop in the shower. The noise cancelling systems in the tent are good enough to deal with unwanted sounds from my end, and I thought it’d be better just to make things more efficient for this whole conversation.”
I blinked once, twice. Then slowly, but carefully, stepped away from the tent.
“I… I see. Efficiency seems to truly be a cornerstone of…” I suddenly found myself unable to forge platitudes and pleasantries, not under these conditions. “Is it… I don’t know if we should continue talking when you’re clearly busy, Emma—”
“Oh, I’m not bothered, was there anything else you wanted to touch on about my debrief?”
“I… I don’t think… I an… there is the matter of unpacking our misadventures at the Academy but…”
“But?”
“Perhaps it would be prudent to reserve that for the morning. You… clearly need to tend to your personal needs following your extended adventures.” I offered as best as I could under the recent upheaval to our conversation.
“The whole break-in situation, right? The tent updated on the situation, I’m watching the logs on it right now, and I gotta say, you handled it amazingly well, Thacea.” She bead in that signature bright yet forthright cadence.
I would’ve smiled, perhaps even blushed beneath my feathers from a complint that wasn’t the result of conversational decorum and the empty platitudes demanded of it. Though given the situation, I found myself physically unable to blush more than I currently was.
“Thank you, Emma. I will talk to you when the circumstances are more forgiving.” I managed out, now making my way towards the powder room and out of this social faux pas in increasing haste.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon’s Heart Tower. Level 23. Residence 30. Living Room. Local Ti: 2000 Hours
Thalmin
“I don’t think they’re leaving that room anyti soon.” I managed out with a huff, to which Ilunor — engrossed in his seventh course — rely shrugged.
“A sha… for them, that is.” The rapscallion grinned. “All the more for to eat—”
“Leave so for the pair.” I chastised.
To my surprise, the vunerian relented, shrugging in the process.
But this silence wouldn’t hang in the air for long, as Ilunor eventually veered into dangerous territory — a new conversation, starting with a single solitary word.
“Thalmin?”
“Yes, Ilunor?”
“You do know that these years we spend together at the Academy are finite in nature, yes?”
“Just cut the fat and get to the at of it, Ilunor—”
“I cannot claim to know with definitive certainty, the sorts of topics you’ve discussed with Emma over your ti in the wilds, nor do I claim to be prescient. But what I can sense, with intuition honed through years of careful courtly discourse, is that sothing changed out there.”
“I don’t know what you’re attempting to imply—”
“You want sothing from Emma, don’t you?”
I narrowed my eyes, refusing to respond.
“You wish to harness her potential, her power, her inclination to trust, to bond, to naively offer things on a whim. You see the power she wields — manaless power. Power which may or may not rival that of magic itself. And you wish to exploit it, for Havenbrockian gain. That much I could see during your engagent with that petulant false-noble.” He paused, his voice colored with a marked severity. “That much I could tell from your reactions to the death of the alicorn.”
“Your reactions to that whole scene weren’t that far off from my own, either.”
The vunerian paused, looking away for a mont before putting both pieces of cutlery down in a swift and elegant motion.
“Correct.” He admitted through gritted fangs. “Which brings to my point, Prince Thalmin. You cannot let the trappings of the present blind you from the responsibilities of the future. These five years, as formative and important as it may be, will be just that — a blip in a long-lived life.”
“I’m flattered, Ilunor. I didn’t know you would wish and my family both long lives and a reign which would reflect—”
“Cease with these sarcastic rebuttals, Prince Thalmin. It is unbecoming of you, a prince, to be adopting the earthrealr’s prose. Your mannerisms drip with her inclinations for the absurd.”
I responded the only way I could to that interjection — a shrug.
A response that Ilunor took with surprising grace as he returned to his proverbial podium.
“I bring this to your attention, because as much as we have had our… disagreents, I do not wish ill on you. Moreover, I find myself in the unenviable position as the sole voice of reason at present. Prince Thalmin… just consider for a mont the implications of your actions. What will happen after we all go ho? What will be the ramifications of your actions here, and what truly can you expect to bring back when all is said and done? Anything gained, anything built, any bridge or road constructed with Earthrealm… may be a complete lost cause at best or an active detrint at worst. You have so much more to look forward to, Prince Thalmin. Please take into consideration the rest of your life, and take stock of the weight of that future against the fleeting mont that will beco of these five years.
I sat, staring, looking deep into Ilunor’s eyes this entire ti, and what I saw… was concerning.
This wasn’t one of his typical condescending tirades.
This… was sothing entirely different. A genuine plea of what seed to be a place of well-aning intent… but from a misplaced faith.
“You do rember how Mal’tory completely kicked you into the jaws of a wrathful entity, correct?”
“I—”
“Believe what you want to believe. Just understand that as a prince, I know what my duties are, and where my responsibilities lie. The real question here is… what future do you see for yourself after these five years are up, Ilunor?”
The Next Day
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Grand Dining Hall. Local Ti: 1220 Hours.
Emma
“Alright. Color impressed, guys.” I bead brightly, leaning in close towards our Academy-bound counterparts as they recounted their escapades in their entirety.
“I have to say, you both handled the situation much better than I would have.” Thalmin added, stoking the flas to Ilunor’s growing ego, much to his chagrin. “Because I would not have stopped at bruised egos, nor would I have had the foresight for vassalization through blackmail.” The prince’s tone changed, growing increasingly dark and bold. “I would have simply exercised my rights, for a proportionate response to this attack on both pride and privilege. Because in my eyes, the trespassing pair relinquished all rights of due peerhood the instant they crossed that threshold.”
All three of us stared blankly at Thalmin’s abrupt and unapologetic bloodlust. The rcenary prince simply shrugged, rolling his shoulders in an exaggerated response. “The rules on trespassing are clear, especially for peers. This is a rcy compared to the punishnt this infringent on fundantal decency would have otherwise incurred in Havenbrock.”
“I imagine it would, Thalmin.” I chuckled nervously. “Moreover, I don’t doubt your conviction. Not after…” Thalmin’s form stilled instinctively. To which, I paused before swiftly shifting the topic back to the matter at hand. “So… Etholin’s group is now more or less…”
“Our pawns, yes.” Thacea responded matter-of- factly, in between bites of a weird floating eggs benedict. “At least as it pertains to Lord Kamil Lyonn and Lady Ilphius Seleat, that is. However, your refusal to accept Lord Etholin’s coin, and your return of said coin, was an even greater move on your part, Emma.”
“Wait, what?”
“By returning his gift, and coloring the interaction in your usual… prose, you’ve managed to not only refuse what would have been a new line of fiscal and social debt — as the usage of coin could be construed as an active investnt and facilitation of your quest’s successes — but you’ve likewise shown restraint, planning, and aptitude in refusing the gesture following the conclusion of your successes. It’s quite satisfying to see, really.” The princess spoke with this almost… giddy vigor. A giddiness hidden under layers of social decorum and politeness, of course, but I couldn’t deny the enjoynt of courtly drama hidden within her thoughtful gaze.
In a way, this was as much a battlefield as Thalmin’s, and the excitent when both were in their elent showed.
“Right.” I nodded. “Well, I would be lying if I didn’t realize it was another ploy at correcting the weird social debt imbalance between our groups.” I shrugged.
“That is, if it even was a ploy.” Thalmin offered. “He could genuinely be apologetic over the fuss he stirred up when he refused to relinquish his position for the quest. At least, until the very end where he pulled that move with Ping.”
“That is possible.” Thacea admitted. “Then again, the man leads a sloppy ship. It becos difficult to discern what his direction is, when every mber of his group seems to be acting on their own accord.”
“The sa can be said of our motley band.” Ilunor chastised in jest, garnering the glares of all present. “What? While we are most certainly leagues more competent than Lord Etholin’s group, this all stems from our individual capabilities, more so than any superiority in leadership or organizational competence. You are all like feral drakes, impossible to corral, difficult to get in line, but still more than capable of surviving nonetheless.”
“Er, thanks, Ilunor? I guess?” I responded, cocking my head in confusion at the vunerian’s inexplicable blend of insults and seemingly well-intentioned complints.
“With all that being said, I think I might need to upgrade the tent’s defense systems sowhat.” I offered, garnering a giddy look from Thalmin.
“May I see the birth of more of these miniature war golems, Emma?”
“Sure. I’ll also—”
“And in ensuing order, given you wish to forge new defenses, might it be possible to request a weapon of my—”
TOOOOOOOOT! TOOO TOOO TO TOOOO TO TOOOOOOO!
My active audio systems managed to just about tone down the bombastic trumpets right as they started, though the sa couldn’t be said for Thalmin as he glared down at the bridge apprentice who seed more than happy to have gotten us back in this one small instance.
“MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE! THE LAST OF THE QUESTERS FROM THE EVERBLOOMING BLOSSOM HAVE RETURNED! ALL STUDENTS ARE TO GATHER FOR CELEBRATIONS FOLLOWING THE CONCLUSION OF LUNCH! ALL QUESTERS IN ATTENDANCE ARE TO FOLLOW FOR THE CEREMONY’S PREPARATIONS!” The bridge apprentice practically bellowed out, his voice carried magically across the room, much to the annoyance of everyone present.
I was quick to turn to Thalmin who, with a single nod, stood up.
“Right then.” I spoke with a sigh. “Let’s wrap this up. We have a lot more to do after this.” I turned to both Ilunor and Thacea who each nodded, knowing their own affairs.
“And a lot more ti to address the various questions still up in the air, ey?” Thalmin questioned jokingly, punching in the shoulder in the process.
“Yes, Thalmin, I have a lot lined up for us in that departnt.” I bead. “Now… let’s see what this fuss is about.”
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Hall of Champions. Victor’s Square. Local Ti: 1245 Hours.
Cynthis
SWOOSH! SWOOSH! SWOOSH!
And so the silken fans swayed.
Each elegant sweep marked another mont left unseen—
SWOOSH!
—another mont left by the wayside—
SWOOSH!
—another mont… spent in the midst of those lacking in conviction and suitability.
SWOOSH!
I could not stand it.
I could not stand wasting my bountiful efforts in the midst of these… lacking n.
These n who lacked conviction… these n who lacked presence…
These n who lacked the gravitas of a true ruler, entranced by the pitiful ministration of Academy politics.
Yet it was by that very asure that Prince Thalmin’s arrival was assured to be fashionably unpredictable, as he was untethered, unbound, and unbothered by the whims of the Academy.
The prince instead focused on what truly mattered.
And soon… he will find himself focusing on what will matter — to his crown, to his realm, and for his own good.
I smiled.
I felt my genuine smile breaking through the facade of its facsimile.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Now all that remained… was to wait. I quelled my twitches, cald my nerves, all for that most important of monts — the first impression.
The first inaugural exchange, which would beco the start to it all. The beginning of my climb up and up through a realm practically begging for a force of order — a voice of reason. All wrapped in a face no one could resist and a charm that would make the entire realm quake in reverence.
They’ve probably never even seen true beauty before… I chuckled silently, my cheeks aching in an elven ‘ear-to-ear’ grin.
I took in a deep breath, performing one final long stretch on my palanquin until finally—
The doors swung open.
CREEEAAAKKKKK! THOOM!
He arrived.
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