Those who live in the great western desert are taught doubt like some are taught to breath. There are those who speak highly of them, of their politeness and humility. They do not see the rot inside for what it is. They are taught it is rational, that it is polite. To impose not, to think always of others.
The poison sinks deep. To one baptized in it, there is only one certainty in this life: they are never good enough. Never worthy.
Reject this. Walk forward unchained. Strike the horizon.
Teachings of the Butcher of Gods, Volume 1
The halls of Lahrii were among the first built in Stinjul, long predating the city that was built on the swampland. Resting atop the decapitated head of Mindol herself, it had originally been designed as a grand cathedral, with many rising spires to act like a crown atop the Titan’s brow. In time, those who gathered there shifted to more academic pursuits, although as Mindol was the Titan of Mind, not many complained of this shift in purpose.
Zelith paced along the edge of the entrance hall. The chamber was large and covered in statues and soaring arches, filled with the chatter of around fifty gathered hopefuls and the tide hitting the sides of the ships that filled the center of the room. The outer wall was open to the sea for the moment, a large gate connected by mighty chains to the sides of the hall.
Grey sat at the edge of the dock, glaring at the water as Zelith continued to pace. After a long moment, she let out a cough, looking over to Zelith. The witchblood didn’t break stride, but turned her head to Grey.
“Hmm?”
“Nervous,” Grey said, raising an eyebrow. “Not like you.”
Zelith shook her head, running a hand through her hair.
“This is Lahrii. The grandest university of the Blue Art, of…any Art in any corner of the continent,” she said, sounding a bit winded from all of the walking. “The best of the best. They only accept the best of the best, Grey.”
Grey snorted, shrugging her shoulders.
“Already accepted in, Zelith, I was there,” Grey said. “Come. Sit. Stop acting like headless chicken.”
Zelith frowned, rubbing her hands together to try to get some of the nerves out before moving over and sitting next to Grey, who folded her arms and looked over to the woman next to her, still frowning.
“Don’t know why you want to come here,” she grumbled, a bit of a grimace obvious. “Damn good already. Good enough for the Sunvaar.”
“No, no, no, I was…sloppy,” Zelith said, looking down at her own metallic hand. “I’m not good enough. Not yet. I need to learn, properly. My form’s sloppy. Only reason I survived was channeling Kein, and…I don’t want to dip into that. Not him. Not like a demon.”
Grey’s expression was hard to read as she looked away from Zelith.
“Nothing wrong with Titan power,” she said simply. “Sunvaar, we consume the beast blood. Sunvaar’s blood. It is the source of my power. Old Bear found me in that blood. Orphan, abandoned. It is me.”
She looked at Zelith, reaching over for the first time the entire conversation, moving a strand of the witchblood’s white hair back behind her horns.
“Kein is you. War. Die of boredom in a place like this, even with Conall around.”
She glanced over to the redhead, the boy dressed in the blue uniform already.
“Him? He belongs here. Soft. Loves books,” Grey said.
“I love books,” Zelith said quietly, looking down at the water below.
“Yes. But you love other things too. Danger and excitement. Hunt,” the wolf said, running a hand along the dock next to her. “Kissing under stars. Pine trees and the road and…”
The last word died, Grey grimacing again as she couldn’t find the right phrasing.
“There will be time for that, after I finish studying,” Zelith said softly, putting a hand on Grey’s shoulder. “Right? It’s just a bit of waiting. And…I need to figure out more. I saw myself here, in that uniform. It’s how I knew how to defeat the demon.”
Grey frowned, a growl coming to her throat.
“I saw. Split open. Not you. Not trustworthy,” she spat out. “Don’t need it.”
Zelith frowned more, her hand drifting off Grey’s shoulder as she bit her lip, not wanting to look at the other woman, not right then. She’d had dreams, obviously, of what might come after the demon was slain. For them. But this, Lahrii…she’d look at this place from afar her entire childhood. Dreamed of one day walking inside. And now it was finally here.
Zelith ran a hand along her own arm. The faintest traces of scars still there, Lasair’s handiwork still there like always. The blood mage had been found, of course, alive but horribly wounded in the ruins of his basement.
Still out there. Still dangerous.
“We leave tonight,” Grey said suddenly, knowing Zelith out of her daze for a moment. The witchblood reeled a bit, looking over at the other woman as if trying to find the right words.
“I…I can try to get you into the school, I got Conall in,” Zelith said hurriedly. “I know you said you-”
Grey sighed, raising a clawed hand as she shook her head.
“No. Not for me,” she said. “Old Bear has found other hunts. But we will be back. Fall festival, in some months time.”
Grey stood up, looking at Zelith sitting at the dock.
“Think, Lily. About what you want,” Grey said, a bit sternly. “Patience…not my strength.”
Zelith stood up, looking up at Grey looking like she wanted to argue but stopping short, sighing.
“…Fall festival,” she agreed. “I’ll be here.”
Grey looked at Zelith for a long moment before leaning closer, kissing her on the cheek before nodding, waving over towards Conall and spinning on her heels to leave, Zelith watching her leave. Her feet screamed at her to run after Grey, to not let her go, but something stopped her. Like a chain, binding her to this place.
As Zelith turned and walked into the throng of fresh arrivals, Grey stepped onto the small sailing boat, jaw set, as a single tear, unseen, trailed down her face.
Strike The Horizon 