I spoke to Himmel and Kyorlin, they have agreed to allow me to perform their wedding ceremony. I am looking forward to it a great deal- I think perhaps this, combined with getting us all back into the sky, shall aid us all in freeing ourselves from the dark clouds that have been hanging so heavy over us of late.
I gave Himmel some of the tea and incense I use to aid with sleeping. He looked so exhausted, so <a splotch of ink> nearly sick. I think perhaps he must be haunted by all of those things that haunt one when someone you love dies suddenly and far away. I saw the same expression in Nordi's eyes at the last tavern event. I gave him the last of the tea and incense I had. I do not know what else I can offer but I wish I could reach into the hearts and minds of those who are feeling such pain and reassure them, aid them, spread the same kind of healing balm that I use on bleeding wounds on bleeding hearts.
Bea said at the tavern that I know how to make others feel better, that I know just what to say, or something to that effect, but I wish I knew what to do for those that I can feel are hurting. Nordi <several small splotches of ink> draws me in the way that pain does. And strength does. And I suppose the way that a male draws a female as well, though I like to think it is the concern for a friend and not base attractions that make me want to touch his shoulder, his arm, and give him comfort. Jineah shamed me a bit and told him I was attracted to him. Now I feel ever more lost around him.
This is foolish meandering, though. I am acting like a teenager, all love-blind.
Work is proceeding on the wedding gifts well, and a bit of something extra is in the works that I think Himmel and Kyorlin will be very happy with. The Accord is in the back of my mind at every instant and I walk everywhere with a wary step and my shields in place. It will be good to be free of that menace... I miss the children.
The Accord attacked after our last tavern outing. Six of them against us- and neither of us prepared for a battle. Jineah was in her leathers and I was not in any of my properly enchanted armors. They nearly killed us both. It was luck more than skill, to be true, that saved us.
As it was, we were both invalids for over a week. I suspect I shall have headaches from time to time until the concussion I sustained fully heals and Jineah's shoulder will likely grow sore in cold weather until the muscles fully knit. Still, we are battle-ready once more at last. Neither of us handle being stuck inside well, though Ashlynn has been a most gracious hostess.
I suspect this attack will give us the drive we need to start going on the offensive. It has certainly riled Kyorlin and Ashlynn up...
It has also done something I did not expect. Jineah has begun speaking of having a child. I...I do not know what to say to her. She had an epiphany of sorts when she realized how very close to death she came and I think it has driven her to finally be honest about something she has been thinking of for some time. I have never desired a child- the thought of propagating my...blood terrifies me. But...Jineah is wonderful with children and has always been happy when amongst the little ones.
The only problem in all of this, really, is that Jineah does not enjoy the touch of a man. We are going to wait until the Accord has been dealt with, but once that threat is eliminated or at the least contained...
Change does not come easy to me. And this is a change on the scale of which I cannot even imagine.
<a few doodles, one a very detailed sketch of a dagger hilt and a pistol hilt with elaborate engraving and inset gemstones>
I am going to ask Himmel and Kyorlin if I may perform their wedding ceremony. I've a gift for them either way but it is something I may give them that is...unique. I've an idea to research some Elonian wedding rituals in the Priory archives and see if I can perhaps combine those with Norn rites and some of the better Krytan rituals. I would like very much to bring some joy into those men's lives, especially after the loss of Holle.
I...wish I had gotten the chance to know that young man better. I think he and I may have had much in common. I shall miss his smile. I told Sidrek and Igi that I shall remember his name.
<The entry opens with several small doodles, little designs, animals, just an errant pen uncertain where it's going before trailing into letters, mid-thought>
There has been a great deal occurring on the personal front, though the rest has been quiet. The celebration of love with that strange Charr-like creature was fun, if a bit embarrassing. Jineah's poem rang like a bell in my heart, a great gong sound that I shall never forget. She does not generally bare her soul in such a way.
I am glad they liked my song. I always enjoyed that one, I used to sing it when we were becalmed and the crew grew restless. Watching the others- particularly Himmel and Kyorlin, who are normally so reserved- be so...taken by the spirit of the day was nice. Jineah and I are enjoying this period of bliss- after our arguments and pulling away from one another it is good to be near her.
Manxx and Idda are learning their letters and numbers very, very well. I have been staying home more often of late, teaching them. I must ask Shoxx next time we meet how Asuran children are typically taught, I do not want them to to be too far behind...
It has been quiet on that front for some time. Shoxx works hard, I make certain he sleeps when I can. I make certain the children are well, Jineah and I keep wary eyes out for danger.
I was accosted by a Svanir cult in Wayfarer's rest some days ago. It was..terrifying and frustrating in a way I have not felt in some time. I was firmly in the grip of my blood magic and could not feel the touch of the elements- and I am as weak as a child when in that state. They spoke of dragon's blood and I wanted only to hear more- foolish curiosity They surrounded me, threatened me...and though I put a good face on it I felt more fear than I know how to say. I wanted to be silent, to be still- a rabbit before a snake...or a pack of wolves. They would have destroyed me had I shown fear, I think. As it was, I was only released when I swore not to further 'spy' upon them.
It is a wonder I was able to walk away at all. I am humiliated still to think that those...animals...those murderous, rabid, vicious, cruel- <the paper is splotted as though the pen broke> I cannot believe I could not fight them. I was all alone...
I am having nightmares, since. They are rare, perhaps one every few nights, but they wake me up gasping, with magic twining up my arms, longing to strike out. Jineah has been wonderful, she helps me go back to sleep, she even went out with me for a time, fought at my side. She did not draw away from me. I promised to train some with Sidrek but the time has simply not been there.
There is more, so much more, but I've run out of time. The children wish me to take them off to play.
She hums a song I do not know and looks at me as at a stranger.
The children do not notice, yet, thank the Spirits. I will be picking up the recording Shoxx made for them from the lab as soon as I see him again, tomorrow I think.
I wish- We should never- What use is it... <the page is torn and crumpled, possibly from the journal being thrown and landing on the open page>
Things have progressed so quickly I feel I am caught in a whirlwind not of my own creation and it is all I can do to keep myself from flying apart.
We have the children in Hoelbrak now, safe as we can keep them. I say 'we' but truly they are in Jineah's care- I leave in the morning after breakfasting and return in the afternoons to cheerful recitations of their days and the lessons they learned, the games they played, the stories they heard. I tuck them into their beds with a song or a story, betimes both, and when they are asleep Jineah and I plan at times, or argue, or sometimes just fall into exhausted sleep, unable to spare much more for one another than a smile and a nod. She is well suited to this motherhood business whereas I... I find myself consumed with concerns. What shall we do when it comes time for them to have new clothing? What about their schooling- were they learning from the apprentices? They are old enough they should be learning their letters and numbers, learning writing, and I do not know what Asurans teach, I do not know if they have their own alphabet or -anything- about electronics... What about friends- children should have such things, they wither without them and become...well...like Jineah and I.
And these are only the concerns NOT pertaining to the very real danger that I have placed us under by giving into the damned curse in my blood. Would that the Accord had killed me in that Tavern, would that I had killed them all, and not been such a fool as to try and send my 'message'. Damn my hands and my blood and the hunger within me, though that at least has been taken care of for the the time being.
I have begun the process of learning control all over again, only this time it is so much more difficult. I am a woman grown, not a teenager, not a child with a child-mind that is so much more mutable and easily taken to learning. And I am learning control over something that is so much crueler than flame or lightening, that still feels as though each time I use it I dip my soul in tar. At least now, after Igi's help, I do not feel that horrible hunger to unleash this power against my friends and loved ones. I've won -something-.
Shoxx is terrifying me. I hope he knows how much we care not just for his brilliant mind but also for his well-being. I have been going to the lab and forcing him to sleep every second day, he will not allow me to do it more often but at least I have won that little victory for his overworked mind and body. I do not wish to lose him...I do not think I could handle it. Not just for the children, though I mask my own fears as fear for them (not that they would not be devastated) but also because I...because Jineah and I have so little. We have so few to call friends, close friends, true friends. Shoxx was the one to welcome us into the crew.
I wish...I wish to kill his son. I wish to take the head off the beast and be done with all of this. I am tired of playing about, skulking...
And I am more bloodthirsty than I am wont to be. It is frightening me. I try so hard to maintain control...
In the early days of Lion's Arch, when the Captain's Council was a mere consideration so as to avoid all-out wars amongst the pirates who berthed in the comfortable harbor, a ship was preparing to ship out on the morning tide.
It was a beauty of a galley, her mast was straight and tall, her sails were full and wide, her hull cut through the morning mist like a scythe through wheat. Her captain was a man of much renown- he was a rake the likes of which has not been seen since and his name was whispered in society high and low. A pirate in every sense of the word.
His only failing was superstition- he never allowed a woman to step foot aboard his beautiful ship, fearing her to be a jealous mistress. His figurehead, carved in the likeness of a siren with a form to make the most wondrous of women weep for feeling inadequate, was blindfolded whenever he made his way into port, that she might not behold a female form.
On his last day in the Arch, it so happened that the captain of this ship of wonders was saying farewell to his most recent lady love. She clung and wept, wishing him well and begging him to remember her most fondly. He lifted her up and swung her round and by the vagaries of fate he happened to set her down with the toe of her boot landing where the gangplank met the deck of his ship.
The lovers paid no heed- the lady went her way, the captain took the helm and off he sailed into the bright beautiful day.
But the bonds of fate had landed 'round his neck and before he passed the encircling arms of the harbor the blindfold around his figurehead's eyes fell away.
It was while they were far from the sight of land that they came upon the shipwreck. The debris was still aflame, eerie in the dark of a cloudy night, a storm rising from the south that lifted whitecaps to the waves.
It was one of his sailors that saw the woman- her nightgown was pale as a beacon, pale as moon-washed skin. She was barely clinging to a spear of wood and each wave that struck her seemed destined to sweep her away. He could not leave her there to die and despite his superstition he called for his crew to bring her aboard.
She was pale as her gown, lovely as the moon, her hair dark, her eyes dark, and even wrapped in a rough blanket she moved his men to worship. The captain offered her his cabin, gently offering her his bed.
"You must be weary, my dear." He told her. "Please, sleep."
She shook her head and clutched his vest, suddenly afraid. "I cannot sleep, I must not sleep." she cried. "I cannot sleep 'til we reach shore."
The captain frowned. "What do you mean my dear?"
"If I sleep, I must dream. And in all my dreams, I drown."
A chill ran up the captain's spine and the sky began to flash as the storm broke overhead. His ship gave a mighty shudder as she gazed up at him.
"You must keep me awake. I will clean for you, I will warm your bed, but do not let me sleep."
The storm swept the ship before it and the castaway and the captain were driven before it. He was but a man, however, and the storm was no natural storm, and before it's fury he fell into a deep and exhausted sleep.
The next thing he heard was a sound like a scream, a woman's scream, mad with laughter. He awoke to the crash and crack of his mighty ship's back being broken, her beautiful mast coming apart, her sails flying away in the wind. Before his eyes was the floating body of the castaway, her dark eyes reflecting the lightning that crashed above. As he gazed at her, she transformed before him into the living image of his figurehead.
The water rushed into his cabin as her cold fingers closed 'round his throat.
"It's so unnatural, the way she's so silent, always watching- when she isn't off somewhere reading. It isn't right. A Norn should be boasting, a Norn should be brawling. A Norn should be playing or eating or sneaking sips of ale or...or...or SOMETHING loud and bright or at the very least -out-."
"But not that one. It's well known that she's the child of a bloodwitch and one of Jormag's followers. What that witch did was unconscionable- unspeakable! It's possible that girl was being raised to follow her- maybe she was being taught! Even at that age, she was old enough to learn-"
"After all, she learned how to read fast enough, Spirits only know what sort of twisted rituals she learned before she was 'rescued'. ...More like planted here, if you ask me."
"You can't talk freely around her, it's like every time you turn around she's there, off in some corner with those great dark eyes on you and you know she hears you. I can't help it that she's heard me saying things!"
The child never showed the least bit of emotion as she heard them talking. She listened, her dark eyes seeming far, far too large for her thin face. Scarcely did she make a sound, even when frightened or hurt, even when her nightmares made her thrash in her bed so mightily that the havroun would come to hold her that she might not harm herself. Then she would awake and her face would be wet with tears but she wept silently, hiding her face in the feathers of the havroun's shoulder armor.
It was harder to ignore the other children. It always was. Their voices were higher, sharper, and they tended to punctuate their taunts by chasing her and stealing her books or (particularly the boys) pulling her hair. They called her Dragon-spawn and witch and asked if she had ever eaten babyflesh... She had nightmares after that one, ones that had left her bruised with the force of her own thrashing.
In her mind, it was never still. Her gaze hid millions upon millions of things, innumerable as the stars, words of every scroll and story and history she had ever read, every lesson she had ever been taught. And under it all, a soft counterpoint, a rolling, roiling, oceanic susurrus...
The screams.
The chanting.
The sound of the knife when it scraped against bone or stone.
There were lesser memories- metallic odor of blood, crisp snow, the sharp sensation of slap, the dull ache of a kick or a cuff, the warmth of the first blanket that wrapped around her...
But it was the very thing that she could not express that echoed most vividly in her memory.
Sound.
She -wanted- to. Sometimes the words crowded on her tongue so violently that they choked off her breath and she had to pant and gasp so that her teachers thought she was having some sort of fit and carried her away from the fire so she might breathe more freely. She wished to scream at her tormentors, she wished to laugh when the tales moved her, she wished...
She wished.
But try as she might, the weight of all she carried stilled her tongue and she was left to watch them- those great Norn who she was of by blood but not by deed nor temperament, with her great dark eyes and the memories and the legacy that she could not escape nor erase.
One day, when his hunt had been poor and he was headed back to his steading with little more than a brace of rabbit over his shoulder, he stumbled across a track. It was fresh, and he was angry and hungry for prey to sate his bloodlust, so he dropped his meager catch and began to follow the track.
Over hill and valley, past mountain and through snowdrift, he followed the trail, and every step he took the rage grew in his heart and his grip on his sword grew tighter and he became convinced that his prey was taunting him, leading him on a merry chase only to humiliate him.
So it was when at last he found the one who made his trail he did not stop to look, he raised his sword and struck!
The wolf-mother fell, her blood crimson flowers upon the snow. Her pups huddled close and they howled their fear into the cold, clear night.
And something answered.
"What have you done?"
The hunter turned, his sword raised, and froze as he found himself facing a hillock of a Wolf, a mountain of a Wolf, a Wolf as large as the sky with great golden eyes that burned into his very soul and found it hollow and wanting.
Still, he did not repent and shook his fist at the mighty Spirit.
"You do not frighten me! You are nothing but an animal that I haven't killed yet, cur!" he screamed.
The Spirit took a step forward and the hunter found himself trembling as though a child again, and the song of wolves rose all around him until it drowned out his very thoughts.
"An animal I may be, my lost son, but we beasts have laws that every hunter must follow. You have broken our laws and must pay."
The hunter felt a sensation he had never known as the Wolf's great gold eyes burned him, seared him-
Fear.
He crumpled to his knees as the Spirit spoke.
"You shall know the fear of the hunted thing. Everywhere you turn, every hand shall be raised against you. You shall never know rest, you shall never know peace. Your children shall be slaughtered before your eyes, the pelts of your mates shall hang upon the walls of your enemies. And when you have felt the pain you have inflicted for a year and a day I shall come to you once more."
When the hunter lifted his head to beg for mercy all that came from his throat was the tortured screaming cry of a skelk. His fine strong arms grew thin and tipped with tiny claws, his wide back weak and covered in slime. He fled in terror from Wolf and from the site of his kill, leaving behind all of his fine armor and weapons, leaving behind the life of the killer for the life of the hunted thing.
For a year that was to him as many years, he skulked and he hid and he watched as the mates he took were slain and his childrens' eggs were smashed by careless feet or predators or Norn seeking glory. He felt the sting of blade and arrow and the burn of fire against his scaly hide and more deeply he felt the pain of never ending fear. His nights were long and full of terror and his days were short and full of pain.
At last the final day ended, though he did not have the mind to know it. He lay curled in the smallest ball he could make when the song of wolves filled his den and he opened his eyes to behold himself in a place he had forgotten. A crystal of ice had formed around his fine armor and his sword lay where it had fallen. In the darkness a pair of great golden eyes began to burn and he cowered before them.
"My lost son, you have learned much. Reclaim your legend and go forward. And remember when the night is cold and you hear my song what it is to be a hunted thing."
The scales fell away and he stood once more- his back was wide, his arms were strong...
But he was not the same man.
When he touched the ice crystal it fell away and he took his armor and put it on. But he left his sword there in the snow, vowing never again to force a creature to spend a night in terror, never again to hunt for blood, never again to slay in mindlessness.
It is said that where his sword lay a field of crimson flowers bloomed.
((A guildmate has requested that I write down some of the Norn legends that Sonechka has in her possession. This is one on the subject of love.))
But for all of his great size and mighty strength, the woman he loved would not see him. Her beauty made him weak as a child in swaddling clothes and one glance of her brilliant eyes would send him to his knees quick as a blow! When he saw her he would boast- but she would not hear. He would drink- but she would not join him. He would flex and fight- but she would not swoon.
Lost and diminished, the man walked into the snows outside the steading and sat on a great hill, his beard in his hand and his frown so severe that the winds were afraid to blow.
Wolf and his family happened to be walking by and saw the man. The Spirit paused and sat beside the man.
"What is wrong, little brother?" Wolf asked.
"The woman I love does not love me." The man said, "What should I do?"
"Why, you should show her you can hunt as part of a pack, take good care of pups, and provide for a family. Women love men that can take care of a family." Wolf said, casting an eye back at his large pack proudly.
The man jumped up in excitement. "That's it! That's it! Thank you, Wolf!" And without waiting another moment he ran back into the steading to win his woman's heart.
And so he sat down and played with the children of the steading, telling them stories that set them to laughing, playing games of chase-me-catch-me and 'catch the badger'. And when the children were exhausted he rounded up a group of men and went to catch the largest ice wurm in the steading- and of all the men he gathered it was his axe to fell the beast.
When at last the wurm was dead and the people of the steading were fed well from it's meat and the children were exhausted from laughter and play, he looked to the woman he loved.
Yet she did not turn a gentle eye on him.
The man left the steading with thunder in his heart and all of the animals fled at the sound of his tread. He threw himself down and put his beard in his hand.
Snow Leopard happened to prowl past as she was stalking her prey and saw the man. At his thunderous expression she curled herself around him and teased his nose with her tail, smiling her enigmatic smile.
"What is wrong, little brother?" Snow Leopard asked.
"The woman I love still does not love me." The man said. "I have shown her I can hunt in a pack and play with children but that didn't work. What should I do?"
"Well, of course that didn't work. You should show her that you are quick and sly. Women love a man that is subtle." Snow Leopard replied, stroking her long, fluffy tail with a claw.
The man leapt to his feet, stroking his beard. "Yes! Yes, I see!"
He returned to the steading and watched. He did not boast or fight, he did not rage- he watched, and listened. He became a shadow and when a brigand came in the night to rob the steading of it's stores he killed the man without a sound. And when the body was found in the morning he puffed his chest out proudly and stood before the woman he loved.
But still he could not win her smile.
Lightning crashed in his bootsteps and each of his breaths was as flame with his rage. When he sat it was as if a boulder had rolled down a hill. He blazed and he raged and he sat until at last he gained the attention of Raven who was flying high overhead. Raven landed and hopped up beside the man.
"What is wrong, little brother?" Raven asked.
"The woman I love -still- does not love me." The man said. "I have shown her I can hunt in a pack and play with children and that I am subtle and quick and sly. None of that worked. What should I do?"
"Well, I see why that didn't work. You should show her you are wise and know many tales. Women love men that can tell a story around a fireside." Raven said, mesmerized by the shine from the man's swordhilt.
The man stood slowly and walked back to the steading, his head sunk to his chest as he thought.
When he returned to the fireside he told the story of Raven Brings Fire and Bear Saves Wolf, and the story of how the sun and moon were made, and how the Norn first came to be. And all of the people were made jolly by his tales and his name was spoken of in the same breath as that of the greatest storytellers of the age. And when the fire burned to embers and the ale ceased to flow, he looked to the woman he loved.
And still she did not hear his voice.
The man went out in the snow once more and there was no longer rage in his heart. He sat upon his hill and put his beard in his hand and in his eyes were emptiness as vast as the sea of stars above his head.
And the stars moved as Bear walked down from the sky to sit beside the man, her great eyes shining in the night.
"What is wrong, little brother?" Bear asked.
"The woman I love does not love me and I do not think she ever will." The man said. "I have shown her I can hunt in a pack and play with children and be sly and subtle and that I am wise and can tell a tale and nothing works. What should I do?"
"Well, I think you should go home." said Bear, her voice a great growl. "Women love a man who protects what is his."
And the man looked up- but Bear was gone! But in his heart he felt a mighty pulling and so he leapt to his feet and raced to the steading, only to find that it was besieged by Icebrood on all sides!
He raced into battle beside his brothers and fought as a pack, shoulder to shoulder.
He slipped, quick and clever as a shadow, through the buildings and slayed those that thought to harm the ones he loved.
He protected his steading until the last fire was put out and the last enemy was routed.
And when the battle was over, he told a mighty story of Wolf, Raven, Bear, and Snow Leopard battling against the Dragon such that the world had never heard before.
And when the story ended, when his tale had run it's course, the woman he loved looked him in the eye.
It has been a week or so since last I wrote. It seems longer. I will attempt to be brief - but when has that ever been my strong suit?
Attending the Winters Day Feast thrown by Arshavan was wonderful. Everyone seemed in high spirits and it was nice to laugh and joke and tease with these people- though I admit I am at a complete loss as to understanding how the Charr interact. Perhaps it is only these particular Charr and they are not representatives of their race, but they are a strange people and I find myself shaking my head as though at older children at their antics (to tell it true, they remind me of Norn offspring, Boasting and play-fighting, though they are adults). Jineah was a bit uncomfortable at the gathering but she enjoyed the giving of gifts and received something quite fine from her secret gift-giver, as did I.
Of greater surprise to me was the gift from Nordi. I've scarcely shared two words with him but he gave me two very fine colors of dye. I am most grateful to him and (much to Jineah's chagrin) will admit that I found myself considering him in rather a new light. He seemed a bit sad and stand-offish at the party, I think perhaps he will be happy when Himmel returns to his duties- said duties, I confess, I did not realize he had actually relinquished until the party. Everyone was calling Nordi 'Captain' and not calling Himmel that. I consider myself rather observant and to have missed something so dramatic, well... I suppose it attests to the fact that Jineah and I have spent more time away from the ship and the cove gathering gold, supplies, and strength then is probably prudent.
Speaking of Himmel, it seems a wedding is in the works- likely to come in the spring. It has been a long time since I have been to a wedding- the last one was one I officiated aboard the Secret... a bit of a ruin that turned out to be. I am looking forward to this one, I can only imagine what this crew will get up to at such an event.
...Suddenly struck by a rather embarrassing concern. It is possible the dyes were only aknowledgement of service during the Jackdaws incidents. In fact, that is most entirely likely. Ah well. They are quite lovely and I am still very grateful.
Jineah and I have come, in our travels, to a valley that is so lovely it startled her into speechlessness. We sat on a ledge near a waterfall and looked out at it- Jineah wishes to build a small steading there, with one of those asuran devices so we can easily find our way back to the crew as it is quite far from the coast. It will cost a great deal, I'm certain, to get an asuran engineer out so far but the place is beautiful and it would be nice to have somewhere a little more...private to retreat to should Jineah and I decide to enjoy our less 'mundane' interests.
We're growing stronger every day, now. We're nearly as good as we were before those bastards stranded us on that rock to die. I've yet to see the Secret's colors flying in Lion's Arch harbor- perhaps they were finally apprehended or maybe they sank when the karka invaded or perhaps the Captain finally went mad and drove them into the mouth of a maelstrom somewhere. I still have that itch between my shoulderblades when I walk alone down the streets of any of the larger cities- they say a bad egg always turns up and it would be our due if this one were to pop up again, now when it seems things have finally turned to peace once more.
Jineah would be cross with me, to read that. "Borrowing trouble". Still, a bit of caution is worth a crossbow bolt in the back, I suppose. For now I'll let it be, those old rascals wouldn't know where to find us anyhow.
((A story set in Sonechka's past...-Contains mention of blood and self-harm. Not one of my best works but I needed to write something to work past a block and this was it. =) ))
It was so easy...
Her hand dropped to her side limply as her head lolled back. Blood dripped slowly from her fingertips into a pool at her side. Power raged through her body, flooded her arteries, pounded behind her eyes, fired in her synapses. It was as though she had drunk deep of the most potent liqueur while having the most heady lovemaking and smoked the most altering of plants all at once- all while leaving her clear-headed and sharp, sharper than anything. She could think thoughts that she had never even conceived before- the universe was so bloody big. Surely, she could perform spells and feats of magic this way that she could never have the power to do otherwise- it was like a vast underground pool of power that she could dip a hand in whenever she wanted.
The wound across her palm didn't even hurt any more.
Just surrender to the urge and everything you want is yours...
It had been in a book, she hadn't really expected that. The Elonians had practiced fel magics in their early days, as had the Ascalonians, even the Canthans. Many people had experimented with blood- necromancers, elementalists, shaman. Raven's Lodge had a number of texts tucked away discussing the merits and drawbacks to blood magic and with her insatiable, voracious need for knowledge it was inevitable that she would find the books.
They'd never expected her to act on it.
She'd never expected to act on it.
But it felt so good.
There were others, other teenagers that were learning at the Lodges. Some were like her- orphans, children of war and endless conflict with the Icebrood. Others had quite prestigious families. Her family history was questionable, tainted, but the shaman didn't treat her any differently, really, though they did seem to watch her more closely when she asked certain questions. Questions about power, about Dragons.
Every so often she'd catch the side-eyed stares and she knew they wondered.
Would they know?
A sense of paranoia swept over her with an iciness that swept away the feeling of euphoria. She looked down at the blood on her palm, the wound that was beginning to scab over, and suddenly realized what it would look like if one of the shaman were to find her- or worse, one of her peers. She clutched her hand to her chest so fast that the pain was like a starburst in her head and she let out a sibilant hiss that echoed in the deserted cave.
No one must ever, ever know.
As she scuttered out of the cave, slipping carefully through the slim opening and past the rocks, leaving her books and her blood and her hidden cache of the forbidden behind, she couldn't help the last, rebellious thought that slithered after her.
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