-Aleksandra Bane-
Her nose itched terribly.
Of course, Aleksandra had lied to Dareon. She couldn't really smell blood, but she would let him believe what she wished. She had smelt something though. This newfound skill of catching onto trait scents, it was a unique ability of the Hound among the Wielder classes. The Hound class, though rare, had the ability to track anything by scent, or follow the essence of any Wielder as long as they remained on land. What Aleksandra had found was a similar Wielder essence to one that Penny had carried.
Certainly she had no idea that Penny had an "essence" per say, but only figured it out when she caught a whiff of it again. Penny was obviously dead, so what she was sensing wasn't her, but someone similar.
The moment Aleksandra realized she had developed a Hound trait, she didn't tell anyone. Who was there to tell? A Zarkarian not in favour of Wielders, a knight who spoke less and voiced nothing, who shared no opinion on any matter and seemed to care far less, or a forester who she knew didn't trust her very much?
Well, she couldn't trust him very much either. He was still cursed, but with what, she had not the faintest idea.
Also, it wasn't as if any of them were interested in Wielder classes, or Wielders for that matter.
Lying on her back on the barn floor, she stared through the sun window. A small square that showed a small piece of sky, a fraction of the stars, a portion of the unknown darkness in the absence of daylight. Dareon rested a distance from her, arms crossed and breathing deeply as he slept with his brows furrowed. Just earlier Atlanta and Lucan had returned after searching for them. Though Aleksandra expected them to be at least breathless, they both showed up beautiful and with only a minimum amount of sweat.
If she had searched the town as quickly as they had, she would've already been on her knees.
"I told you not to move," Atlanta had said coldly. Dareon sputtered, but Aleksandra had raised her hand and spoken in his place.
"I chose for us to leave. I wanted a roof to stay under rather than a makeshift shelter, and this barn looked perfectly fine to me." She readjusted herself and sat up, "And also because we encountered someone here."
Atlanta raised her brow while Lucan strode back out and tethered the horses outside. He didn't come back for a while after, for perhaps he was feeding them.
"And you let them leave?" Atlanta began to walk towards them.
"More like they disappeared of their own accord. Don't worry, they weren't any threat."
"And how are you sure?"
Aleksandra pulled a smile, "She didn't look the type."
Dareon joined in, raising his voice, "And I think she knew Penny."
Atlanta seemed confused for a moment. "Penny?"
The forester's brows furrowed, "The servant girl from Wyvengard who was fond of you."
The assassin nodded, then ignored them.
Aleksandra was absolutely sure Atlanta felt something for the girl. Maybe she grew to like the skinny servant as well? Acting as Lillian Freewind, was there a chance she let herself favour some of the people she was surrounded by?
She shook her head.
She could never be sure.
Sitting up, Aleksandra glanced around. Lucan was taking first watch for the night and was sitting outside tending to the horses. For now she was alone, but the silence was poisonous and it left her to her thoughts, and thoughts walked a long winding road and always seemed to find the things you tried to bury from your eyes.
Without a second thought, she stood up. There was still the faint scent in the air of that stranger girl from earlier who resembled Penny, but it was fading. Hound traits were annoying, and developing any new traits were always irritating. You had to learn to control it, to subdue it when it wasn't necessary. Aleksandra knew she was an Elemental, a Healer, a Donner, and a partially novice Beastmaster, but she wondered if that was it.
Donners could put magic into their hands or their eyes, and enhance any natural abilities. If she chose to, she could put a bunch of power into the tip of her finger and she could break a bone with the mere brush of her nail. But of course, she wasn't that good yet. Beastmasters talked to animals, or they could even control them. Sometimes, they could control humans or even select body parts to do their bidding. Lately, Aleksandra's only been able to do the latter, her test subjects having been the guards in Wyvengard when she was in the Witch's Cage. Sometimes she made sure she disrupted the natural processes of an organ or two.
Aleksandra blinked at the thought of those knights.
Stop thinking.
She paced around the room, feeling the soft hay beneath her calloused feet, scraped and scraped again till the skin was tough and hard. Biting her lip, she turned to the door. Air. She needed air.
And a lot of open space.
Forcefully, she pushed open the doors. Lucan, who was sitting outside, didn't even jolt at the loud noise. He was leaning against the wall, fiddling with his sword and a whetstone. He'd been sharpening that thing for a long time, it couldn't possibly be good for it.
She nearly crashed into him as she leaned on the wall beside him, filling her lungs with a deep breath. For a while, they didn't say anything. Thankfully.
Actually, his silence was, in a way, comforting. The silence of a room was not. However, his even breaths were a reminder she wasn't the only one awake tonight, eyes kept open by violating thoughts and memories.
Out here the night sky was an endless blanket, sprinkled in stars and a moon partway to a full cycle. Trees were looming figures in the darkness, the border between here and the Western Kingdom. She didn't even know what was on the other side of the Golden Sea of Grass. All she saw were hills and vast expanses of land, patches of green surrounded by blades of yellow. The summer night was cold, but sweat still stuck to her skin and slid down her neck.
"Can't sleep?"
Lucan's voice startled her, but she forced herself to calm. Her shoulders slumped as she replied, "Yes. I haven't been able to for a while."
"... Does it have to do with what happened in Wyvengard?"
Aleksandra stiffened. She tried to close her mind to the invading images, but only to no avail.
There were corpses. An old man on his death bed, having not finished telling her the truth. A girl dying before her eyes, only to discover she was just like her. A princess impaled into a wall. A Queen burning. Twelve old men with muddy robes. A thirteenth who was young and who had released her from her chains, but said he worked for whom again? Then there were images of a yellow-haired King with soft brown eyes who told her to live. Another Queen, with blood on her porcelain skin and alabaster cheeks. Grey eyes stared blankly at a ceiling. Merianne's blood on a young girl's hands. Aleksandra's young, untouched hands.
Now the hands were bigger, hers still, but scarred. Fingers curled. Cruel smiles joined in. Her own disgusting smiles, merciless grins, and glowing eyes.
She rubbed her hands in a flowing stream of pure water. The blood made it run red.
There was still so much blood left.
"No." She answered.
Lucan glanced down at her with his black eyes. Aleksandra knew he didn't believe her, but he nodded anyway.
"We've checked the perimeters, I think it's safe for you to take a walk."
"Yeah?" Aleksandra mumbled, "And what would Atlanta think?"
"Atlanta's asleep."
She glanced up and tried to read his face. Blank, like always, she thought. But the corners of his lips were ever so slightly turned upward, she almost missed it. When she saw it, she grinned and raised an eyebrow. Before she began to walk away, she turned to face him one more time and asked him a question that had been on her mind for a while.
"Have you been thinking of Wyvengard?"
For a moment he didn't answer. With a glance to the floor, he nodded, "Yes, m'lady. It hasn't left my mind since."
Aleksandra allowed a small smile as she held back her next few words. She wanted to admit that she was haunted by Wyvengard, but it was hard enough admitting it to herself. Lucan bowed, and she turned, feeling the rise of her heart and the soreness in her chest at the thought that she just lost the chance to talk to someone who had lost just as she had in that forsaken kingdom. He lost people too, people they shared.
But they weren't that acquainted.
Her feet led her nowhere as she began to walk through the empty alleys and the dirt paths between the houses. They were so spaced out, she could only imagine every night being peaceful. The dirt under her feet was soft, the grass dry, the night cool. Almost completely distracted, she didn't notice when she came upon the town square.
At least, she assumed it was the town square. It was a wide open, circular area cleared of grass, with another smaller, enclosed circular wall at the center that came up to her knees. It must've been filled with something before, but from here she couldn't tell. It seems she hadn't developed the sight of a Hound at all.
Stepping closer, she smelled smoke and ash, chills climbing her arms as she approached what may have once been a fountain or a well. It was far too wide and far too shallow to be a well though.
Once she was close enough, toes touching the cold stone, she squinted into the darkness. There was a dark pile within the stone wall, seemingly dusty and filled with clumps. Reaching over, she picked up what appeared to be an even smaller stone among the unknown pile.
But it wasn't tough. It crusted in her fingertips and turned to ash, falling back to join the rest of the burned remains. Her brows furrowed. Was this all ash? And where from? What burned here to create so much of it?
"Those are all the villagers."
Aleksandra spun at the voice and nearly fell over into the pile of dust. Before she could, someone caught her arm and pulled her forward, steadying her balance. Instinctively, she ripped her arm from the stranger's grip and stepped away, staring into the dark as her vision adjusted.
It was her. She smelled so much like Penny's Wielder essence it nearly threw Aleksandra off.
"I'm sorry I startled you," the girl smiled sheepishly, clasping her hands over her skirt and laughing nervously.
Aleksandra sighed, glancing back to the pile of ash in the dried up fountain. She gulped, feeling partially sick. "These are the villagers?"
The stranger nodded and sat at the edge, her dark hair streamed out and mingling with the breeze. Absentmindedly she tugged on the tear in her sleeve that Dareon's dagger created. "Yes. They were my neighbours, my friends, my enemies, all burned to crisp in the heart of the town."
"... How did you survive?"
Her expression grew painful. "I was in the forests. I'd quarrelled with my mum and papa about my sister and how she hadn't come home, not even to visit. She'd sent letters o' course, but it didn't quell much curiousity."
Aleksandra shifted her weight, glancing around her. Lucan wasn't nearby. "You're talking about Penny."
"Yes," she pushed back her hair, "I'm younger, but not by many. Just a year at most."
"So all the townspeople here died. Except you. How'd you not know it was happening?"
The girl turned her dark eyes to Aleksandra and smiled sadly. "The Zarkarians were quick and quiet. I didn't see them arrive, nor did I hear 'em. I heard no screams. It seems that most of us died in our sleep, and the rest before they knew what was happening. By the time I turned back to go home I saw the flaming pyre and the smoke. I was lucky enough that they had already left, and had not encountered me as they were leaving. If they had, I wouldn't be here now."
Aleksandra wasn't sure what to say at that point. Was she supposed to comfort her? If she was, she didn't know how to do that.
The girl forced a laugh, "I'm Beth by the way." She turned her dark eyes to Aleksandra. "And I'm not supposed to be here talking about me."
Beth stood and stepped toward Aleksandra, who stepped back at the approach. At the movement the sad girl stopped and gave a tired smile. "I must apologize. I've forgotten that you're nobility. Like this, I would've never survived in Wyvengard, I'd be flogged for manners alone. But of course, I wouldn't have survived either way, especially with recent events." And with a swift bow, she took a step back, her skirts brushing the dirt floor.
Aleksandra's brows furrowed. "I'm not a noble."
"You say that, m'lady, but you do descend from the First King." Beth straightened and laced her fingers over her stomach. Aleksandra realized just how much Beth resembled her sister, Penny, that it made her feel a little sick. The same eyes. She'd treated Penny terribly when she knew her, and after realizing she was a Wielder, she partially regretted it all.
In her head she could hear Dareon reprimanding her, saying things about how everyone had the right to be treated fairly, regardless of their abilities. Her jaw tensed as she dismissed him from her thoughts.
Beth continued, "I have remained here because I was ordered to, m'lady. I am here to warn you."
"Warn me about?" Aleksandra snapped herself from her mind, paying attention to the girl in front of her who had once disappeared into thin air.
"The Zarkarians."
She scoffed. "I think I'm quite aware of them already."
"No, there is more." Beth stared past her, towards the south with an expression so grim it struck her silent. "There's an arena there. The Arena of the Wickeds. Wielders are taken there and sold for coin to fight one another to a battle of death, or to last long enough till they both wind up using every drop of their souls. Every month they send collectors past Zarkarian borders to find Wielders scattered about for their amusement, finding champions and sponsors and people willing to bid. Tonight is one of those nights."
Aleksandra listened carefully, "You're a Wielder as well, aren't you?"
"Yes," her eyes were sad, "and a weak one. But I have the advantage of disappearing."
She crossed her arms, "And how exactly do you do that?"
Beth sighed, "Well it isn't a gift."
"I tried to hide my surprise earlier, but this vanishing act has me confused. What Wielder class are you part of?"
"I'd like to know as well. I wasn't taught what the classes were."
Aleksandra bit her lip after a period of silence, "... You're the first Wielder I've seen in a long time."
Beth smiled, "I hope I'm not the last. People don't take our kind as what we are, do they? We're either weapons or freaks, or monsters to frighten their children with."
Aleksandra shrugged, "People are afraid of what they can't understand."
"Is that why people are afraid of you?"
Aleksandra's lips tightened, but she didn't say a word. Her fingers clawed into her arms as she tensed, turning her green eyes to the large pile of ash next to her. Wyvengardian ash.
Beth continued, "I've heard stories. Penny had a scribe write letters for her, though I'm not sure how she could've afforded it. She was frightened of you, Aleksandra Bane. Yet, she admired you. She said you were cruel, that you were broken, but always was she curious about you. She wanted to know about who you were and why you were the way you are. But her curiousity it seems, was not returned. And even though I know how you treated her, I don't hate you."
"... How is this relevant?"
Beth smiled, "What's irrelevant to someone can be the reason to live for someone else. Pardon me m'lady, but I must take my leave now. My mistress has given me orders and I have so far fulfilled them. I have no reason to stay longer. Beware of the Arena, m'lady. Many of our kind have died there, and even if they win they are not known to return."
Aleksandra narrowed her eyes, dismissing the repeated warning, "Who's your mistress?"
Beth took another step back and bowed once more, reaching into her pocket. "You've met Raphael, yes? The one who was the Thirteenth Ambassador."
She knows far too much for a person who's stayed in the Golden Sea of Grass. Aleksandra's brows furrowed, "Yes, I know of him. He helped me."
"Do you remember what he told you, about who we serve?"
"Do you mean the 'Forgotten'?" Aleksandra speculated. "I think that's what he said at least."
Beth merely smiled and nodded. "Farewell, m'lady. It was nice talking to you."
Crack!
She whirled into the air like spun leaves, leaving behind a small pile of dust and a fading breeze. The faint Wielder essence she possessed vanished with her as well, into the air without leaving a faint trail that Aleksandra's Hound sense could trace.
The Forgotten? Now who could they possibly be?
This was a waste of time. With the shake of her head Aleksandra turned around and began to trek back to the barn where Lucan, Atlanta, and Dareon resided. Arena of the Wickeds. What was so dangerous about a couple of Zarkarians with the restraint of their own mortality? What could they possibly do to Wielders?
Aleksandra shivered at a faint chill that danced down the skin on her back.
Not till later did she realize how thankful she was for the distraction from her own thoughts that came in the form of a girl named Beth.
But she should have heeded her warning at least.