The Time Eater

Chapter 18: From a monster old

Evos grabbed Tavia's hand. As she gave Evos a startled look, his form began to grow hazy, fading into a blue light.

"Focus," he said. "You did it before; you can do it again."

And then Tavia was holding the Ageless Sword in her right hand.

"E-Evos?" she asked.

There was no answer. It would seem his many abilities didn't include being able to talk while in sword form.

"Ugh, why does he insist on helping humans?" Ikarios snarled. His eyes were locked on the sword, and his face contorted into utter disgust. "I could use his help, but he just insists one being nothing more than a tool."

What was Ikarios talking about? Helping humans? He wasn't trying to imply that being Terrisian made him more than human, was he? That was beyond even the imperialistic attitude of Terris. Tavia shook her head. She didn't have time to think about that. She had to figure out how to do that channel, if she didn't; she wasn't going to last much more than a few moments in this fight. What had she done before? Evos said it had happened twice. Once when she Jumped, but she had only been angry then, and the other time...well, hadn't she been scared then? Tavia was scared right now too, but that didn't seem to be the key to channeling.

"Are we killing her?" the woman with the rapier asked.

Her expression was cold, her manner all business. Tavia shivered, dreading Ikarios's answer.

"No, Meridian," he said. "She managed to wake the Ageless Sword. She may be useful, so take her alive."

It was nice to know her death wasn't on the table, but being Ikarios's prisoner was terrifying in its own special way. Remembering the feeling of him digging into her mind, controlling her, was enough to make her shudder. That wasn't anything she ever wanted to feel again.

Tavia wrapped both her hands around the hilt of the sword and bit her lip. Meridian was coming her way, confident and calm, her pale eyes full of assurance in her victory. She didn't fear Tavia, and the two Althiest women behind her weren't even preparing for a fight. They kept their grimoires in the straps at their sides as they watched.

Tavia took a deep breath. Althier. That was the key right? She needed to channel Althier. Althier was all around, in the very air they breathed. Devices like her vox performed magic by gathering Althier and casting the spells defined by what was engraved on the alther. This was the same thing, right? Except that Tavia was the one collecting the Althier, and she had no idea how to do that.

She looked down at the sword. When was the last time she had really held a weapon? It had been that time in the lab, in the RIOAR branch, hadn't it? During those tests. What was it the Artificers had said?

Breathe. Tavia took a deep breath. Very good. Now, tell me how you feel.

Sick. Like something had settled in the pit of her stomach. She remembered this feeling. This feeling and the voices telling her to breathe. Tavia's fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword, and her gaze lowered to the floor, ignoring the approaching Martial.

That's right. They had told her so many times, hadn't they? She had never listened, had never wanted to listen, because along with the things they told her, they made her do things. Things that hurt her, things that made her sick.

That sick feeling, slowly turning into a burning feeling, in her stomach and chest—that was Althier.

Tavia focused on that feeling. It wasn't comfortable, but right now she didn't have the luxury to care. She imagined the feeling, the Althier drifting through her body and into the sword through her hands gripping the hilt. She felt something connect, and the sick feeling in her body vanished.