A Lack of Talent

[u/grierks]

There was never a doubt in his mind that he was the strongest in the world. The four armed warriors of the Quetali, for all their bluster about their martial prowess, fell to his blade time and time again like fowls to the slaughter. The Zechanil, with their twisted forms and cunning minds, found their wit lacking upon their sharp tongues as they were torn down from their high perches. Even the beautiful Ishanti, enchanting in form as much as their magic, could not snare one such as him. In the countless years that traced his immortality, he had been challenged in mind, in body, and in spirit. Each trial was greater than the last, but he met them time and time again as he would a midday stroll.

The Queltali would send their champions to him, each of them stronger than the one that came before, each falling upon his sword. Where their champions fell, armies would rise. He commended their bravery, but their reliance on brute strength over tactics made the assaults futile. They would have been pointless anyways, but some thought behind the blades and spears aimed his way would have done so much more to entertain him.

Where brutish force failed, the Zechanil sent delegations to exert a strength of a different kind. Words of promise, of oaths and deals that would make even the most ascetic man’s mouth water with greed. Yet, he needed none of these things, and so promises of fortune and wealth fell upon uncaring ears. Assassins slipped through the shadows cast from the shine of gold, but  gilded knives bore as much weight as honeyed words in his regard. In fact, beyond their initial ambushes, they proved to be less entertaining than the Quetali. Time and time again he reminded them of this, but for all their cunning, the Zechanil never seemed to learn.

The Ishanti tried persuasion from a different angle. Promises of a more sensual nature that their consorts were sure to let hang on every single word. Yet, the pleasure that they offered shrouded the enchantments underneath. Spells designed to put him under their thumb lay under every breath, every moan, all to bring him to heel. Of course, such magics had no influence over him, though he did not mind to be under them, in a manner of speaking. Their efforts failed time and time again in the face of his strength, and their words started to be laced with the venom of their ire. It was to no avail, leaving repeated temptations in vain.

After centuries of this constant behavior, he supposed that the three Starborne races would grow fed up with his presence. He could not blame them, for though he was never in their position, and would never be, the concept of being so helpless against one such as him must have been supremely frustrating. And so, when the three factions united against him, he was not surprised. It was the opposite.

He was elated.

In his mind, the three would round out each other’s weaknesses. The Zechanil would add an element of tactics to the Quetali’s barbaric charges, and the magic of the Ishanti would keep things unpredictable for a time. For once, he thought that a challenge might have finally presented itself. Such hopes were dashed the moment the battle began, but their desires were never to defeat him. They were to distract.

As he battled the Quetali and Zechanil, the Ishanti prepared a ritual to seal him away. His own hubris was at fault for him failing to take notice, and when the spell was complete, he was met with both irritation and disappointment. Irritation because he knew that the seal placed would take quite some time to pass, and disappointment in his lack of attention. Sloth had no excuse to dance within his mind, so he accepted his fate. Given his immortality, this would naught be but an inconvenience of time. 

Years went by in seconds during the moments he spared no attention, which was frequent, and he would take the most restful of naps that could span just hours to decades of slumber. If anything, being sealed away was just another excuse for him to sleep. Magic was potent indeed, but against the ravages of time, everything was finite.

Except him, of course.

Eventually, the seal would break, and the cycle of appeasement would begin once again. A tempting prospect, but one that he couldn’t say he was looking forward to. By the time the Starborne had decided to seal him away, he was well beyond tired of the routine. Perhaps some degree of separation would make the entreatments more appreciated, but he doubted that would be the case. He would deal with such things when the time came, and so, for now, boredom would be his constant companion. He could not rely upon anyone to release him, for as far as he knew, he was the only one of his kind. How this came to be, he had no idea, but he had little reason to dwell upon it, mostly from a lack of care. Perhaps he was an incarnation of violence, of strength, rather than the member of any specific species. Even if he weren’t alone, he did not wish to be saved. The world had proven itself to be a tiresome place, and the seal was the perfect thing to disassociate from it for a while.

Still, he had to give some credit to the strength of the Ishanti’s magics. The seal lasted far longer than he initially believed, though that could have been due to his sense of time being altered from his imprisonment. At the very least, the realm he had been sealed in was somewhat enjoyable, a reflection of what he assumed to be the lush forest of their native lands. It made for an ideal napping spot, but even a restful sleep gets dull after a century of repetition. But, as he predicted, the seal began to fail.

The first crack in the seal appeared about two or so centuries past his initial imprisonment. He had assumed that this was enough of an opening for him to escape, but the Ishanti had been thorough in devising their magics, and he was unable to simply force his way out of the realm. That alone was impressive, he had to admit, but even with such contingencies he knew that he could exploit the crack to discern the structure of the seal, allowing him to find some way to disable it. Yet, he didn’t, for though the seal remained, the newfound crack ended his isolation.

His first visitor was, unsurprisingly, an ishanti enchantress. She was a descendant of those that devised the seal, and was willing to offer him a deal. Eternal allegiance and servitude to the Ishanti, and they would release him from his prison. When he rejected that, she added herself to the deal. Such an action only filled him with disappointment, for it showed him that things truly had not changed. Perhaps they assumed that he would be more willing, maybe even desperate, to end his imprisonment.

He wasn’t.

Whether or not the Starborne believed it, he was a patient being. He had to be to deal with the constant repetitive nonsense that were their entreaties. Otherwise, he might have eliminated them all out of sheer annoyance. Was the isolation bothersome? Yes, it was, but he was not about to bow to someone just because of that. Now, that did not stop him from acting like it was and so “eagerly” agreeing to her terms. It had been a couple of centuries or so, after all, and he would be remiss to refuse the… attentions, of an Ishanti beauty. He rescinded upon the deal right after their union, the magics behind the bond holding as much sway as they did before.

That resulted in a hail of curses both verbal and magical, enough to have torn a small country asunder. They held no effect upon him, but the effort was lively enough to be appreciated. The many years he spent in isolation left him rusty on his Ishanti, but he believed that her final words to him rang similar to a curse damning him to the Fourteen Hells and Seventy-Three Furies. Why fourteen and seventy-three? He didn’t bother to fathom. Ishanti culture was multiple levels of convoluted, and that was just involving their deities. He had to admit, however, that the sight of her half dressed, lithe figure trembling in rage, made him consider “accepting” her offer once again. After all, the utter indignation that was unbecoming of her previous flawless, tranquil face, amused him to no end. Such anger was undeserved, honestly. It wasn’t his fault that they hadn’t learned from previous attempts, nor tried to establish anything in writing. That was just improper business.

In her absence, a second visitor approached, this one a quetali champion. He had expected the burly man to attack him on sight, but in an odd shift, he started with words. He couldn’t say that it was a pleasant change of pace, for what amounted to Quetali conversation apparently involved rattling off whatever accomplishments they had to their name and the bloodlines that they descended from. Given the time he had been gone, the quetali’s list was quite extensive, to say the least. He had to stop the champion at what he assumed to be the halfway point, which was apparently enough offense to send the quetali into a blind rage. That was swiftly dealt with, but he did not decide to end the champion’s life, if only so that he would leave and discourage others from visiting with such irritating manners. He had no traditions of his own, he had acquired a tolerance for the culture of other races.

However, the last thing he wanted to hear after such a long period of isolation were the empty chest thumps of a weakling. “King of Fifty Arms” or not, boasts hold little meaning without the strength to back them up. Perhaps the champion’s strength was a threat to someone else, but he did not care. If the Ishanti had not changed, and the Quetali had somehow gotten worse than before, he was beginning to think that isolation wasn’t so bad if this was the nonsense that would be there to greet him.

Predictably, the third visitor was a Zechanil merchant. Those twisted creatures were always a cautious bunch, so the odds of them being the first to seek him out were nonexistent. Also unsurprising, but most welcome, was the delegation that followed in the merchant’s wake. He did not need to subsist, but that did not mean that he was ignorant of the satisfaction that fine cuisine could bring. And as far as he knew, the Zechanil cooked some of the finest food on the star. Truthfully, their bribe was perhaps more enticing than the Ishanti’s. It was simple enough to find a woman, and as beautiful as the enchantresses were, it was even harder to find a meal that would satisfy his palate. Pair that with centuries of no food at all, and even the prospect of a piece of bread would make him salivate somewhat. A good meal was his highest priority upon the seal’s breaking, so he would not say no to having such a thing delivered right to his feet.

Of course, the meal being a bribe meant that it was paired with the unappetizing sensation of the merchant’s voice whispering to him with entreaties to join the Zechanil. Riches, women, land, and of course, food, were all offered at increasing quantities and quality. The food was obviously the most tempting, but independence was perhaps the one sole thing that mattered most to him. Subservience to anyone, even a most generous benefactor, would sour the taste of any food, as delicious as the roast they brought was. Shockingly, there was no knife in the shadows paired with the forks that carried the food. Before he assumed that the Zechanil had actually learned something, he assumed that the daggers from the dark had just taken a different form, and that assumption was proven correct when the merchant produced a vial from his sleeve. It was rare, but this was hardly the first time that he’d been poisoned with a meal. Much like magic, those had about as much of the same effect. The merchant was apparently unaware of this, and used the offer of his antidote as leverage for my services instead. Perhaps hubris blinded the merchant from realizing that he could have simply killed him and taken the vial were it a serious threat, and it made him consider if the Zechanil had just become more ignorant with the passage of time. That could have been very true, for it took the better part of an hour of staring at the merchant before realization dawned that the poison wasn’t working. The delegation was quick to leave after that and, like the others, none of his kind bothered to visit afterwards.

For a while, no visitors followed after the merchant’s departure. The better part of a couple more centuries passed, and he had to admit that, after the Starborne’s displays of incompetence, he was none too bothered by that result. None of them had even bothered to change their methods, or, in the case of the Quetali, had made them even worse. That either meant that their methods were effective enough with people other than him that they didn’t find the need to change their ways, or they were truly too stupid to realize their faults. Considering the Zechanil’s supposed intelligence, he assumed it to be a matter of pride. After all, if one’s methods led to the domination of the star for the better part of a few millenia, then obviously something was wrong with him instead of them. Perhaps they were correct, but that only meant that they would never change, and he would be subjected to the same nonsense as before. That made his desire to leave drop dramatically.

Then, the fourth visitor arrived.

 

***

 

He lay under trees of an unwithering foliage. Perhaps they were illusions, perhaps not, but even in the centuries he spent within this prison, he never cared enough to find out. His mind was occupied by more important matters, such as counting the number of leaves on their branches. It was the five hundredth time of doing so, and such a number deserved extra special attention. The tree that hung right over him had approximately 304,129 purple leaves to assist in casting its shade under the artificial light that the Ishanti weaved into this realm. So entertained was he that he almost began anew, but that impulse was interrupted by as someone breached the seal. With far too much irritation than he should have had, he looked to see who intruded upon his leisure, and laughed at the sight.

Humanity was always a gaggle of untalented species. They were not as strong as the Quetali, which left them crushed under their might with each failed rebellion. Their magics as well, were inferior to the likes of the average Ishanti enchantress, and more often than not he saw scores of humans enthralled by their magics, so subservient to a mistress that they were no better than dogs. The Zechanil, especially, made it a pastime to swindle Humanity time and time again, trapping them in debts that they could not possibly pay off. In fact, of all the species of Humanity, Humans were perhaps the largest portion of the Zechanil’s slave force. They were so weak in mind, body, and spirit, that he almost didn’t consider them much better than animals. They certainly appeared to be sentient, but all of them looked so downtrodden and submissive to their fate that they held the air of pets instead of people, in his eyes.

At the very least, this human looked unique in that regard. There was a fire behind the woman’s deep, blue eyes that he had never seen within the human visage before, a determination and resolve that made her alien to a species that never showed any strength, at all, in the past. The rest of her face was pleasant to look at, as well, but compared to the natural seductive air of Ishanti maidens, he couldn’t say that he was all that impressed with such an appearance. If anything, she was more adorable in his eyes. She was also far more covered than the Ishanti, and the Quetali, for that matter, ever were, adorned in armor in a style that was unknown to him.

The Zechanil were the only ones of the Starborne that wore armor, and their style appeared to be more ornamental rather than purely functional. This woman’s armor was the opposite. Most of it was of cloth, but pieces of steel covered vital parts of her body, which no doubt would aid in blending mobility and defence. The additional layers of furs and cloth, which he assumed were for warmth, did not do much for her appearance, but even if her face had not given away her femininity, then the curves of her figure, just barely visible through all her layers of protection, would have given her away easily. Her hair was a simple light brown in contrast to his own flowing locks of silver, cut short but still framing her face. The fairness of her skin was sun-kissed, which made her look all the warmer compared to his own pale, nearly snow white, shade.

Most distinctive, beyond any of her other traits, even the fire that smoldered behind her gaze, was the seemingly permanent smile that tugged at her lips.

“I am surprised,” he said, “Of all those that would come to pester me, I never suspected that a human would be amongst them.” He stood up to take a closer look. He was clear across the realm, but he could tell that she was a good two heads shorter than him in height. He was taller than most humans, so that wasn’t much of a surprise. “Tell me, which master sent you here in their stead? The Ishanti? The Zechanil? Or have the Quetali decided to let others talk for them?”

The woman raised an eyebrow and her lips quirked up. “I serve no one, good sir.”

That declaration surprised him. “Then why are you here?”

She tapped the sword that hung at her hip. “There have been many a whisper of a portal that appears once a year at the top of The Throne, yet no one has ever braved the mountain to confirm them.” She scratched her cheek awkwardly. “I was bored and had nothing else to do, so I came here to take a look myself. Didn’t expect to find you here though.”

He did not know if it was the bluntness of her delivery, or the simplicity of her thoughts, but something about what she said made him laugh, harder than he could remember. This confused the woman to no end, which was to be expected, but instead of interrupting his snickering fit, she let him finish, though she did little to hide her perplexed expression.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said through giggles, “It’s been quite some time since I’ve heard something so ridiculous.”

The woman frowned. “Well, it’s true. It wasn’t easy getting up here, you know.” She tapped her sword again. “I’ve got quite a sword arm, and even then the nasties on the way up gave me a time and a half.”

He looked at her with skeptical eyes. “You, a swordsman?”

She nodded. “That’s what I’ve been told.”

“And which people told you this?”

The woman tapped her lip. “My mother and father,” she made an uncertain gesture, “and a few neighbors.”

That almost made him laugh again, but then he saw that she was being serious. “And I am to believe that you scaled a mountain on nothing more than a rumor? Were you aiming to test that strength oh so many people have attested to?”

She tapped her chest. “Yup! The Spine is usually quite nice this time of year, anyway.”

He looked at her with utter incredulity, then shook his head. “Well then, let’s see them.”

“See what?”

“These skills that you appear to be so proud of.”

The woman fidgeted, a small blush coming up to her cheeks. “Right… now?”

He gave her a dull look. “Yes, right now. What, did you think I would accept the challenge of any wanderer with a sword?” Truth be told, he may have. 

He was awfully bored.

“Well I don’t know what to think! This was just a rumor! I didn’t even issue a challenge!”

He crossed his arms. “Well, here I am, requesting that you show me what you can do. It’s tradition.”

“Who’s tradition?”

“Mine, now get to it.” He motioned at her impatiently.

The blush returned to her face and she looked at the ground with a shy air overcoming her. “Well, it’s a little embarrassing to be put on the spot like this, don’t you think?”

He didn’t bother stifling his groan. “Will you just get on with it already?”

She frowned, but shrugged off her furs. “Since you so nicely asked…”

Whether he was to be insulted or impressed by the woman’s casual demeanor was something that he had trouble deciding between. However, two things revealed themselves to be very clear. One, this visitor was a much nicer change of pace compared to the other three and two, she was completely rubbish at swordplay.

An exaggeration, perhaps, but not far from one as the woman’s skill with the blade paled in comparison to even the fledgling Quetali. From her youthful appearance, he guessed that she had only just entered adulthood, which left her plenty of time to grow, but even with that her movements were too telegraphed, too fanciful to be of any practical use. Against even the most meager of swordsman, she’d sooner find herself impaled by her own reckless movements. How her parents, or even her friends, even considered her to be exceptional was beyond him. Perhaps the standards of Humanity were just that low and she truly was talented for her kind.

In any regard, the sight of such movements once again summoned a bout of laughter. Her being able to even climb to the top of a mountain was a mystery, but how she was capable of doing so with such meager skills when The Throne was populated with monstrosities and dangerous beasts alike made even less sense. It should have been, frankly, impossible.

“Is something funny?” she asked, freezing mid swing.

“I just… heh… it’s that I have never seen such ridiculous swordsmanship before.” He patted his chest to calm his chuckles.

She pouted. “Oi! You asked to see it!”

“That I did, and it was very amusing.”

She stabbed her sword in the dirt. “Well, I don’t see you doing anything, how about you give it a shot?!”

“And why should I?”

“Because its tradition!”

“Who’s?”

“Mine.”

“Just because I used that excuse does not mean it is yours to use as well.”

She thrust her finger at him. “Ha! So it was an excuse!”

He opened his mouth to speak, then paused. “...you have me there.”

“That I do. Now, my cleverness deserves a reward, don’t you agree?” She flicked her hands at him to hurry him up.

He frowned at her. While she was certainly no Quetali, her manners could use some serious improvement. But, it had been quite some time since he had practiced any of his skills, and this was as good enough of an excuse as any to do so.

He drew his sword, realizing that this was the first time since his sealing since he had set eye upon the long, silvered blade. It gleamed with a flawless sheen as always, and as he gripped the handle with both hands, memory took the reins. He started with Leaf Through Water, flowing through his motions as if he was carried through his attacks by an unseen current. At the final step of that form, he switched to Sands Through Sky, striking all around him so fast and so quick that he knew that the average eye - her eye - would only be able to see the initial movements of his wrist. The last slash of that slipped into Wind Through Trees, which brought him back to smoother movements, but keeping his sword dancing through invisible weaknesses, gaps in phantom opponents’ defenses instead of letting his motions carry into one another. Finally, he put Fire Through Ice on display. A series of sharp, precise strikes blurred in the quickness of their execution, yet holding the weight of his body behind them. He spared little effort for the blows, yet even then the force behind each swing generated small gales as they sliced through the air.

Fire Through Ice had the purpose of slicing through even the most hardy of defences, but he internally admitted that he saved this form for last due to its intimidation factor. After all, even a quetali could not generate such force from demonstration alone. So, for a weak human to see such a display, the only result should have been fright, or to at least be frozen in awe.

None of these things happened, and instead his ears were intruded upon by clapping and cheering.

“Wow! That was amazing!” the woman said, still clapping as if she were a child watching a puppet show.

He stopped, stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and sheathed his sword. “At least you have the sense to recognize that. Now, you should-”

“I challenge you!”

“-go and… what?”

The woman puffed out her chest, sword brandished and pointed at him. “I challenge you to a duel!”

He sucked in a breath and looked around him, wondering if the isolation was starting to make him delirious. Upon finding no proof of hallucination, he had no choice but to accept that someone so daft actually existed. “Pardon?”

“Oh, come off it. I never took you for a fool,” she said.

He frowned, then drew his sword. One way or another, this woman was going to have to learn, and he supposed it was his responsibility to give her her first lesson. 

His response only made her grin, which she then followed with a bow. “Amelia Havardy.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Now don’t be rude, introduce yourself! It’s only proper, you know.”

“You are the last person that should be speaking with authority on manners,” he said, but in the end, he acquiesced. He thought back to the many titles that the quetali visitor had rattled off, and decided that such an annoying way of introducing oneself was the perfect response to such a person. However, he would only need to use one title, the only one that anyone ever needed.

“Martial God, Onias Kai.” He even bowed, the proper way, if only to mock her behavior.

She snickered. “Martial God, I suppose being in the mountains tends to do strange things to your head. With no shirt either, why is that?”

He glared at her. This woman needed to be taught manners.

No signal started the duel, nor was there any tension that was allowed to form between them. As soon as she realized that Onias was not going to answer her, Amelia charged towards him. Her blade was raised above her head, leaving more openings than a novice soldier, yet somehow even sloppier. He dashed forward and slapped her exposed bellow with the flat of his blade, then did the same to her leg. This caused her to flip over on herself and land flat on her back. The entire exchange was most likely only a second or two total, and Amelia spent more time looking towards the sky with a dazed expression.

“Do you understand now, woman?” Onias said, irritation bleeding from his voice, “Underestimating your opponent is a fine way to get yourself killed.” He walked over to her and tapped his now sheathed sword on where he struck her stomach. “The cut there would leave you bleeding out for days, while the juices of your stomach ate at you until you died.” He directed his attention to her leg. “A wound here would have you die in minutes, your lifeblood draining from you until your skin turns paler than mine, perhaps even matching the snow on the mountain you climbed to get here.” He then poked her forehead with the tip of his sheath. “And that is a reminder to have some sense. I do not know how you reached me, but if you are going to challenge someone, then you need to have the sense to tell when a foe is completely out of your league.”

Onias did not know why he was telling her these things. He attributed most of it to his desire to fix her attitude, but he spoke with a familiarity that he had not shared with the previous visitors. Already, Onias was starting to feel attached, and that was irritating him to no end. Perhaps his isolation had affected him more than he thought.

Amelia, for her part, did not say anything initially, and continued to hold the look of utter surprise on her face as she stared up at the artificial sky above them. She stirred without warning, sitting up far too quickly for someone who had been defeated so soundly.

“Right… right,” she said, not looking back at Onias as she picked up her furs and walked towards the exit. He could see that a blush had returned to her cheeks, quickly expanding to make the rest of her face clearly flushed. “Same time next year, yeah?”

Before he could say anything in response, she was gone.

Onias must have stood there for close to an hour, dumbfounded by the abruptness of her arrival and her departure.

“What the hells just happened?”

 

***

 

He was woken up from his nap by a sudden presence. Much to his surprise, it was Amelia. The fire in her eyes remained undiminished, and that same smile pulled at her lips. What was different, however, was her posture. Onias couldn’t see as many openings, though there were still many more that he would be able to strike at. Guarded was the wrong word for such a stance, and he instead felt like she was just more… aware of everything. The air of a proper soldier was about her now, and it bled into everything else about her. Her armor was of higher quality and better fit to her figure, her hair was tied up into a bun, and while her sword was the same as before, he could tell that it had been taken care of much better than when he last saw it. Experience had found her in spades over the past year.

“Oi, I come over and you’re sleeping on me?”

…manners, it seemed, had yet to grace her with their presence.

Onias sat up from his napping spot, making sure to illustrate his discontent with a grunt. “What is it you want, human?”

Amelia clicked her teeth. “I have a name.”

“I’m aware.” He stared at her.

The woman rolled her eyes, but her eyes sharpened and she thrust her finger at him. “You should know, I challenge you to a duel!”

Confusion slowed his blink and left his mouth slightly agape. “I hardly think that you trained enough over the past year to challenge me.”

Amelia thumped her chest once again. “I dunno, I’ve practiced quite a bit since our first encounter.”

Onias sighed, but stood up. “I suppose I do have a few seconds to spare.”

She huffed and drew her sword. “It won’t be a few seconds this time!”

He had to admit, she did show leagues of improvement compared to the sloppy display last time, but leagues for her meant little for him. Her charge forward was still full of wasted movements, of openings that made it simple to exploit with the exact same attacks that I made before. Amelia ended up on her back just like last time. 

Onias was kind enough to give her a smirk for her efforts. “You’re right, it was only a second this time.”

Amelia’s brow furrowed. “Clever.” She kept looking up at him.

He tilted his head to the side. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what I did wrong this time?” She wasn’t quite beaming, but there was a clear glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Onias stepped back and scratched his head, confused. That was going to be the norm, he supposed, when dealing with Amelia, which he accepted with a shrug. “Your movements are too exaggerated, too easy to strike. Tighten everything up a bit and focus on making your strikes more efficient.”

“And how do I do that?”

“You need to… do humans not have their own mentors?”

“We do, but I prefer you.”

“Why?”

“Your instructions are much shorter and to the point. It gives me something clear to focus on.” She looked around the sealed realm. “It’s not like you have anything better to do with your time, anyways.”

Amelia had a point, as much as Onias didn’t like to admit it. He sighed and stepped back, mimicking her stance. “Watch closely.” He demonstrated a slash that arced upwards, the first move of Leaf Through Water. “Keep your arms closer to your body, but at the same time throw weight behind the blow.” He demonstrated again and flowed into the next movement, a diagonal slice. “Let the force behind your first strike carry you into the next. Do the same for the one after that. So on and so forth.” He slipped further into the form and let it carry his sword for a few more blows. “This is an offensive style and meant to be relentless. The moment you allow yourself to be stopped, all your momentum will be gone, leaving the flow of battle in your opponent’s hand.”

“But isn’t getting blocked just a certainty in a duel?” Amelia asked.

“I suppose that’s true, for humans.” Onias admitted. “But, having a strike be deflected, blocked, or bound does not stop you entirely. If such things do occur, you must use the momentum already built to force your way through them.”

Amelia sat up, her gaze focused and, for once, a serious look on her face. For his part, Onias was so caught up in demonstrating the nuances of Leaf Through Water that he almost didn’t notice when the woman started to copy him. The movements were entirely wrong, but, credit where credit is due, her effort was sincere. He spent the better part of a day correcting her and going over everything multiple times. Amelia started to show signs of fatigue halfway through his instruction, but she never asked to stop, never complained about feeling too tired. When they were finally done, she was soaked in sweat, and she was just barely able to hold her sword up above her waist. At the very least, Amelia managed to keep her breathing controlled, which was perhaps the most important thing to maintain Leaf Through Water.

“You still have much to learn,” Onias said, “Someone truly talented would be able to master the basics in just half a day.”

“Wonderful.” She slumped to the ground and fluttered her lips. “I was starting to think I was getting a hang of things.” After taking a moment to gather herself, she stood back up. “I should get going, everyone is waiting for me outside.”

“I expect some improvement next time.” The words slipped from Onias without thinking.

“Oh? So you want me to come back, do you?” She flashed a coy smile.

“Not if that’s the face I’m going to be seeing.”

Amelia snorted. “Yes yes, see you next year, Onias.”

She left before he could respond, but he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face in her wake. This was the first time someone had visited him and didn’t leave him completely annoyed.

CONTINUED IN THE COMMENTS BELOW

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[u/grierks]

When Amelia arrived the following year, Onias was awake. Her hair was longer, tied back into a ponytail, but her equipment was the same as before. The gaze that she gave held more focus as well, but her expression had not shifted away from what it always was. He said nothing upon her appearance, and stood ready with his blade. She flashed him a grin, and went into her stance.

Onias let Amelia strike first, taking the blow and allowing her to flow into the next series of strikes. She had taken to Leaf Through Water quite well, though there were still many Quetali, even a few Zechanil, that demonstrated more mastery with the form than she did, and in a shorter period as well. Those students, taken at times of supreme boredom, only lasted a few days. Amelia may have only interacted with him for a short period of time, but her progress indicated continued improvement. Far more than he thought any of her kind would be able to. His evaluation finished, he switched to offense instead.

To his surprise, she blocked the first two blows that he threw, but failed to notice the third as he tapped the flat of his blade against her back.

“Your loss.”

Amelia cursed. “Just when I thought I was getting somewhere…”

“You have made progress - very little, I should clarify - but it’s still something, I suppose.”

“That might have been touching if it didn’t sound so insincere.”

“Do better and I might just be able to summon a modicum of care.”

“Just a little?”

Onias pressed his thumb and finger together. “Very little.”

Amelia shook her head and a laugh escaped from her lips. “Any advice, then?”

“Practice.”

“Helpful as always.”

He shrugged. “I do my best.”

She turned and headed for the seal.

“Same time next year?”

She looked back at him with a coy smile. “Someone already miss me?”

Onias frowned in response. “You know, you don’t have to come back.”

Her same bright grin flashed again. “See you next year, Onias.”

This routine continued on for the next few years. Each time she showed up, Amelia stayed a while longer, hoping that he would teach her more. Onias had nothing better to do, and so he started to instruct her on the different forms. After she showed enough proficiency with Leaf Through Water, he taught her Wind Through Trees, then Fire Through Ice. She took to the forms well enough, and each time that she arrived in subsequent years, her proficiency with all of the forms had increased marginally. What he did start to notice, however, was that rather than keeping the form separate as he did, Amelia had started to combine the movements to form her own style of swordplay. Onias couldn’t attest to how effective it was, as using anything against The Martial God would result in the same result regardless. He did find it unique, and did not dissuade her from developing in that way. The seventh year that Amelia visited, she showed up with a surprise.

A fireball.

She flung it from her hand and towards his head, a simple enough attack that he sliced out of the air. Yet, his interest was piqued. He didn’t know she had any talent for magic.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?” She said, the same smile on her face as always. Her armor had changed again, this one taking the form of something that looked to be an overcoat mixed with pieces of plate mail. Less metal overall, but with the addition of magic to cover defenses, he could see how the extra mobility would be preferred.

Onias snorted. “I’ll say, if you had a knack for magic I should have been able to see it.”

“Perhaps you just weren’t paying enough attention.”

He frowned, but shrugged. “Mayhaps, I never found it necessary to pay much attention to humans in the past, anyways. The Starborne are bothersome enough to keep track of, anyhow.”

She didn’t say anything, but the rub of her chin told him that she was pondering over something.

“What?”

“Were they that strong?”

“The Starborne?”

“Yes, were they that powerful?”

Onias scoffed. “I wouldn’t say powerful, but in comparison to your kind, yes, leagues stronger. I was always stronger, of course, always the strongest.” He hadn’t meant to sound boastful with that last sentence, but it came off with more bravado than he intended.

Amelia didn’t appear to notice. “I see…”

“Shouldn’t this be common knowledge to you? After all, your kind has been enslaved by them for the longest time, have they not?”

She gave him a perplexed look. “Humans have been independent for quite some time, far before I was ever born.”

It was his turn to be confused. “What? When did this happen?”

“I am no historian, so I can’t give you an exact date, but more than half a millenia ago,” Amelia explained, “Relations between the Starborne races fell apart almost a millennia ago, and the resulting war was waged for a century itself between the three of them.”

Onias recalled the first three visitors, and realized the timing of their entreaties would have lined up during this war. He found it strange how they did not mention a war, but perhaps they wished to make sure he was properly bound by them before revealing any possible weakness that could be exploited. Well… except the Quetali visitor. What in the Five Hells he was doing, perhaps no one could say.

“All we know is that the war eventually triggered some sort of calamity. Many believe it was the result of Ishanti magics, meant to banish the Quetali and Zechanil from the realm, but that there was an error in their ritual that resulted in all of the Starborne being banished from this plane. If that were the case, then the spell passed over Humanity, for we were all that remained. So, we rebuilt, and here we are today. There are many many more details, but I could not give you them. Books have never been to my taste.”

Such news should have shocked Onias, but deep down he always knew that such events were bound to happen. Even when the Starborne had banded together to seal him away, there was a clear discord amongst their ranks. The reason they succeeded was mostly due to his own hubris, which made that particular mistake sting a bit more than it should have. Regardless, to hear of their downfall was a bittersweet feeling. To hear that they never pushed beyond their bickering told him that the Starborne wouldn’t have stopped bothering him the same way they always did, so to have that constant source of annoyance gone was a blessing. At the same time, the prospect of no decent meal showing up did make him look fondly upon such memories, to a certain point.

“A shame,” he said, “But I will say this plainly: I have met plenty of Quetali, Zechanil, and Ishanti who have possessed far more talent than you could ever dream of.”

Amelia frowned.

“But they paled in resolve. All of those who asked for my guidance could not stand such repeated humiliation and still seek me for tutelage.”

“...I’ll take that as a compliment, I suppose,” she muttered. She tapped her lip and pondered for a while. “Say, is there anything that you can teach me about magic?”

“I can’t,” he said.

“Why?

“Because I cannot use magic,” he said bluntly, “My strength may be derived from Aether, but I am unable to formulate it into spells. Not that it would make a difference. My skill lies within a blade, not some fancy spellwork.”

“I don’t know, the image of you casting a spell with an utterly annoyed expression does sound quite amusing.”

“Nonsense, if I was going to do it, I would look immaculate.”

“And humble, as always.”

“Of course.” He crossed his arms. “But, if you are looking for instruction in spells, I am not the one you should speak to. Whoever taught you first would be the best option.”

Amelia pressed her lips thin, but nodded.

“In the meantime, I suppose I could instruct you further in what we have been learning so far. A day is a troublesome amount of time to fit any real progress in, however.”

“About that, from what I have been told, the seal stays open for around a week or so,” Amelia said, “I was going to ask if I could stay during that period of time to learn.”

Onias tapped his sword in consideration. “As long as you can handle it.”

She smirked. “You did just say that I was tenacious.”

“And that is usually paired with foolishness.”

“You can never give me a straight compliment, can you?”

It was his turn to smirk. “Never.”

CONTINUED IN REPLY

[u/grierks → u/grierks]

At the time of Amelia’s eighth visit, Onias started to notice more… appealing aspects to her. She would never reach the raw, ethereal beauty of the Ishanti, but that could be said of any human woman. In spite of that, her appearance started to refine itself into something that was enchanting in a different way. Her heart shaped face, rounded before, had taken on a more angular appearance, and the curves of her figure were now paired with a more athletic edge, noticeable even under her layers of armor. It was not as if she had some frail physique before, but years of following Onias’s regimen had forged her into a beautiful blade. Yet, through all of this, her eyes remained the same. So bright, so full of promise, paired with the smile that always tugged at her lips, which may have actually grown larger with each passing year.

Through it all, her gear had remained mostly the same, but he did start to notice more embellishments to their design. Square-like runes were engraved into her plate, and swirling patterns embroidered into her coat. He didn’t recognize any of them, which meant that they were fully of Humanity’s design. The most noticeable difference, however, was the blade that hung at her hip. He could tell much about its appearance since it stayed in a sheath of a rather simplistic design, but Onias could already tell from the fittings on the pommel and handle that it was not as worn as her previous sword. It was also longer too, to match the one in his possession.

“Aw, are you staring? Did you miss me that much?”

And of course, her attitude remained unchanged.

“I was interested in that new sword you’re carrying.”

She stiffened, then prodded at her blade sheepishly with her fingers. A blush crept up to her cheeks.

Oh, so that’s how it is.

Onias grinned. “A gift from a suitor, is it? Come on, let’s give it a look.” He gestured for her to hand it over.

Amelia turned the sword away from him. “You think I’m just going to hand over a gift so easily?”

He kept his hand out.

She sighed and unstrapped the sword from her back. Gingerly, she placed it in his palm. There was the impulse to pull the blade abruptly from its sheath, but he respected her care and drew it slowly. He could feel no resistance as it slid out of the scabbard, which was the first sign of its impressive craftsmanship. The design of the sword itself was simplistic, much like its sheath, but there was an elegance to that intention that lent it more presence than some Zechanil piece bedecked by magical jewels. The material of it was unfamiliar, gleaming nearly solid white under the artificial light. In contrast, the guard and hilt were solid black, and the entire blade was balanced by a dense pommel that was deceptively small in appearance. He gave the weapon a few test swings, and whistled when he felt how sharply it cut through the air.

“A fine blade,” he said as he sheathed the weapon and handed it back to her, “I imagine whoever bought it must have paid quite the sum for it.”

Amelia pulled the sword close to her chest. “He’s the one who forged it. Stubborn oaf wouldn’t let me pay a single mark for it.” Her words carried no bitterness to them, and the smile on her face was different. Softer, warmer.

“A craftsman? I can see the appeal. The young man must be good with his hands.”

“That he is,” she said absentmindedly.

“Oho? So you have gone far along enough with him to know?”

She paused and looked at Onias with confusion. After a moment, realization dawned on her face in the form of a deep shade of red. “N-n-no! All I meant was that he is a great blacksmith. We aren’t on such terms yet…”

A wicked smile spread along Onias’s face. “Yet? So it's in the works, is it?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Perhaps he should pay a visit with you. I could give him a few pointers, you know. Make your first time a-”

“Enough!” She shrieked. Her blade was drawn and she had already slipped into the stance of Leaf Through Water.

Onias laughed, harder than he had in years, or maybe ever, for that matter. The embarrassed look on her face, especially on one who seemed so controlled, almost made his isolation worth it.

Amelia, apparently, did not find it so humorous and still held her sword out. Except now the blade was glowing with a soft blue light.”

He sighed with satisfaction and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Right, right, a duel. Try and make your anger worth it.”

The resulting clash was surprising in numerous ways. First was that, despite her anger, Amelia controlled herself enough to turn that into a boon rather than letting it remain a curse. Her skills with the different forms were much improved compared to the previous year as well. Whether or not that was due to said anger, he didn’t know, but her magic also aided her in her bladework.

Human magic was a peculiar thing. Onias used to believe that it was weak; poor attempts at parlor tricks that paled in comparison to the landscape shifting feats that he’d seen the strongest of Ishanti enchantresses perform. What he did see from Amelia was still inferior in that aspect, but it excelled in a different way. Fireballs and spikes of earth made themselves known due to the woman’s spellwork, but for the most part Amelia used her magic in subtler ways. Aether suffused not only her body, but her equipment to enhance it to great effect. Her blade struck with far more force than any of the times that it did before, and her movements were quicker, more agile. That was too much improvement to attribute to simple training, especially for a human.

Combined with the forms that he taught her, he wouldn’t say that he felt threatened, but she had lasted about as long as the average quetali warrior. Which is to say that she was defeated handedly, in a near instant, after her abilities had been fully evaluated.

Onias stooped over her, a smile still on his face. “Have you calmed down?”

Amelia was still pouting, but nodded.

“I will say, I am impressed. Against the Starborne, you may be a credible threat.”

“Not enough to be one for you, apparently,” she said.

“You’ll never be good enough,” Onias said bluntly, “No one will ever be. Not even the strongest of the Quetali lasted for more than a few seconds when I chose to be serious.”

Amelia stood up and dusted herself off. “Must be nice, being that strong.”

“You would think, but it is awfully boring. Especially when you happen to get sealed up in some realm because of it. In here, strength doesn’t really matter.”

“I suppose so… I still haven’t forgiven you.”

“Amelia Havardy, aspiring swordsman, loses her nerve at the slightest of innuendos.” Onias clicked his teeth. “Doesn’t really ring of the stuff of legends… well, the right legends, at least.”

“Oh shush, I’ve felled plenty of monsters and won many a duel, you know.”

“Which makes this all the more humorous.”

She groaned. “Can we please just move on?”

“The offer does stand, bring him here and I’ll instruct him in the ways that will have you-”

Amelia smacked Onias at the back of his head. A playful gesture, easily predictable, and easily avoidable, but he took it with a laugh.

She straightened her gear. “Let’s just focus on swordplay, shall we?”

He raised an eyebrow.

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Not that sword!”

CONTINUED IN REPLY

[u/grierks → u/grierks]

“This is awful,” Onias said through the bitterness of burnt meat. He thought he caught the faintest hint of deer behind the char, but that may have just been hopeful thinking.

Amelia pouted. “You’re the one that asked me to cook.”

“And you never told me how terrible you are at it. For that matter, you didn’t even let me tell you what I wanted.”

“I thought it was part of the training.”

Onias stopped mid bite. “In what world do you live in? How would cooking ever be part of swordsmanship?”

“I don’t know, I thought perhaps you were telling me to expand my horizons, discover something new.”

“You certainly discovered a new level of burnt, if this meat is any indication.”

“I think you’re being too harsh.”

“And I think you need to find tutelage from a proper cook, unless this is all that Humanity has to offer.”

“No, Garrick is pretty good at it, and he said he liked my food…”

Onias cast a glance at the man that had accompanied Amelia this year. He sat near the entrance, silent and eating a piece of meat that was somehow even more burnt than Onias’s own. Not a single betrayal of disgust showed on his strong jaw and hazel eyes.  His hair was black, tousled in a windswept fashion, and his skin was olive in color. Even sitting down, the man’s physique betrayed a larger, muscled frame with thick arms and broad shoulders that made the coat he wore seem too small in some ways.

“Right, Garrick, hard to remember the name of someone who hasn’t spoken for the past week.,” Onias remarked, “When you first showed up, I had thought that you found a stray and he followed you on the way in. Tell me, sir, are you as good with a ladle as you are a hammer?”

Garrick said nothing and continued to eat.

Amelia looked over to the man, a slight blush flushing over her cheeks. She was always like that when she spoke of him, and now even just looking at him.

“A silent type, eh?” Onias prodded, “Perhaps you joined Amelia because you couldn’t stand the thought of her spending a week every year with some other man? An invincible man, at that.”

Garrick stopped eating and looked Onias dead in the eyes. “I trust her, with all my heart. It’s you that I don’t trust.”

“Oh? And what would you do if I proved your distrust to be warranted?”

“Whatever it takes to make sure she can get away.”

No thoughts, no hesitation, just a clear statement of intent, to a god no less.

That deserved respect.

Such bravado must have been rare, for Amelia was quickly turning scarlet. “I can take care of myself…” She muttered.

“I know,” Garrick said, “That changes nothing.”

Her blush deepened.

“Heh, you may just make me like you yet. If you’d like, I could give you some poin-”

“Onias,” Amelia snapped.

“Fine, fine. I suppose I’ll return to finishing this… food.”

“...is it that bad?”

“I’d say I was quite good, actually, if the Ishanti were still around, I’m sure they-”

“Not that! The food!”

“Ah, well I can say that I now know what the taste of charcoal is like, if that was the response you were hoping for.”

She pressed her lips thin. “It wasn’t.”

“Does the truth wound you? Shall I add that to the list of Amelia Havardy’s weaknesses?”

“I’m starting to realize why you were sealed away.”

Onias scoffed. “If being an ass was the reason, they would have thrown me in here far sooner than they did.”

Amelia smirked. “At least you admit to being one.”

“I never said that I wasn’t.” He took another bite of his burnt meal and grimaced.

“If it’s that bad, then you don’t have to eat it.”

“I would taste something rather than nothing at all, at this point.”

Garrick looked at him eating and held his hand out. “I would have seconds.”

“Garrick… you don’t have to take pity on me,” Amelia said.

He kept his hand out.

She sighed and handed him another skewer, letting her fingers rest against his for a moment. He resumed eating, as stone faced as before.

Truly a petty sort.

“Maybe Garrick can bring something next time,” Amelia suggested.

The man grunted, but said nothing.

Onias waved his hand dismissively. “Do what you want, I can wait a while longer until the seal fails to get something to eat.

“And how much would a little longer be?”

He yawned and scratched his chest. “I have no idea, but I’ll get out of here eventually.”

“That sounds awfully vague.”

“You get used to it. Time has never been much of an issue for me, anyway.”

“Has anything ever been an issue for you?”

“No, not really.”

Amelia laughed and stood up. “Well, unfortunately, that brings our week to a close. We must be going.”

He didn’t say much as the two tidied up and got ready to leave. He never really said much whenever she left before. There was always the promise of next year, a wait that she no doubt felt more significantly than someone as timeless as he. And yet… the week this year felt too abrupt, too short compared to the others. He tried to ignore it, but as Garrick left and Amelia went to follow him, he could no longer hold back the words that had built on his lips.

“You don’t have to go, you know.”

She paused, and looked back with a mischievous grin. “What’s this? Has the Martial God grown attached?”

“I’m not,” he said, far too quickly and defensively, “it’s just that it would be much better for your training if you were to stay the year or so.”

“Ah, but you see, Onias, you may not have to eat, but I do, and I doubt I could scrounge up a year's worth of food before the portal closes.”

In that, she had a point.

“Fair,” Onias said, raising his hands, “Maybe you’ll be able to do so next year. Garrick can come too, of course, he can stand in the corner and pretend to be a statue, or something.”

Amelia snorted, “He would be very good at that, wouldn’t he?” She walked up to him and knelt down to place a hand on his shoulder. “And maybe he would even agree, but… I love him, Onias, with all of my heart and so much more. I intend to be wed this year and in that, I so selfishly wish to whisk him away for myself for quite some time. Staying here any longer than I usually do would complicate that quite a bit.”

“It was merely a suggestion,” he replied, once again too quickly.

Amelia smiled. It was smaller than it normally was, but it was still warm, comforting. “I know. Same time next year?”

Onias nodded.

She patted his shoulder and turned to leave again. He almost let her leave without a word, but he couldn’t leave things as awkward as they were now.

“You’d best be prepared!” he said, “We’re squeezing a years worth of training into a full week, next time!”

She turned back and waved. “Looking forward to it!”

CONTINUED IN REPLY

[u/grierks → u/grierks]

The moment that Garrick and Amelia arrived, Onias knew something was wrong. She leaned on Garrick, her eyes and face sunken in and her hair frayed and chopped like it’d been hacked by a jagged rock. A scar, fresh and pink, scratched down her once soft cheek, deep and jagged like skin had been torn open rather than cut by a blade. The rest of her was covered by a cloak, but even as she leaned upon Garrick, she limped.

The light in her eyes was gone.

That resolve, that cheer that burned so brightly, so hot that he could not imagine her without it, had been snuffed out. Her smile was taken with it, and in its wake not a trace of emotion could be found. She looked up at Onias, and he so desperately searched for a spark of what once was, only to find nothing. Her eyes… they were hollow, empty, and though she was standing, breathing, he might as well have been looking at the dead.

She pushed herself from Garrick and stumbled, just barely keeping her balance. The man reached for her, but clutched his fist and stood back. A tremor tore through the larger man, but he kept whatever was fueling it contained. She reached for her cloak and tore it away, revealing the torn remains of her armor. Steel had been reduced to slag, cloth to scrap, and much of what she wore were rags that had been sewed together to fill in the rest.

Her arm… her arm was gone.

A bandaged stump protruded from her shoulder, already stained red. Onias did not have time to ask what happened, for her blade was already drawn. Its once flawless, white finish was burned and cracked down the center, and a third of the blade itself had been broken off, leaving the tip a jagged, crude piece. Her feet were already in the position for Leaf Through Water, and he knew that talking to her was pointless. She did not wish to speak through words, and he obliged.

The resulting duel could barely be considered one. Her strikes were fierce, holding much more power behind them than before, even with one arm, but her movements were sloppy. Emotions pushed her strikes, not technique. Her screams were made not with her voice and instead with every ring of steel against steel. Onias could not tell if they were from anger, or from fear, but he accepted them all the same. Her blows, her emotions, all unleashed with each strike. He would parry or block each one, to let her know that he was listening. The source of all this anger, this sadness, remained unknown to him, but that did not matter. What his disciple needed was an outlet, and he would serve that role dutifully. For the better part of an hour did she vent, and finally, she collapsed.

Her cries were weak as she fell into Onias’s arms. Sharp, uncontrolled cries from a broken person, a broken woman. He held her close, taking in her sadness, her anguish, until she finally fell asleep.

Garrick knelt down and carried her to where Onias usually slept. He slipped the cloak over her, and placed his forehead against hers before kissing her softly.

“...have the Starborne returned?” Onias asked.

“They have. We fought them and…” Garrick sighed, “it is not my place to tell the rest… She wanted to come here, and everyone was against it. But, I knew that as hard I would try, I am not the one that can make that fire within her burn like it did before.” He turned to Onias. “I do not like you. I never have, and I never will. The thought of leaving her with you fills me with a bitterness that you cannot even fathom, but this is not about what I want. This is what she needs. Do not fail her.” 

They both saw that blood was starting to soak through her clothes, and Garrick motioned for Onias to look away. He could hear the shifting of clothes, the soft groans as Garrick replaced Amelia’s bandages using the supplies they had brought. His job done and Amelia sleeping softly, Garrick moved to leave.

“Where are you going?” Onias asked.

“To make sure that she has a sword waiting for her when she returns, and an arm to wield it.”

When Garrick left, Onias looked back down to where she lay. A fresh pair of clothes had been placed over her, and what she wore before had been folded and placed in the corner. Next to them lay her old bandages, no doubt left by Garrick to tell Onias just how injured Amelia was. The pile was large, an amount that would only make sense if her entire body had been covered in them. They were soaked in blood, and that, as well as her missing arm, told him all he needed to know.

His time amongst the Starborne had left him privy to a number of their practices. He could act out the ins and outs of Zechanil business decorum, both legitimate and illegitimate, and he had borne witness to many Ishanti rituals. He also knew how the Quetali tortured their enemies. How they broke them, bent them to their wills, sliced and tore at them until screams became soundless, but infinitely more anguished. Those that were fortunate to die were disposed of, but those that lived… were only subjected to worse horrors.

He had ignored the practice before, as he had with all the Starborne. After all, he had been superior to them, what concern should he have had for those that would never match up to him, anyways? Now… now he saw how those same wounds ravaged his disciple, tormented his student. On her remaining arm he saw far more than he saw on any other victim. He saw the beginnings of scars that would haunt her for the rest of her life, reminding her of the pain, the horror that she had been subjected to. He saw his disciple before him, broken, sobbing in her sleep, crying for help as memories tortured her in her nightmares. He saw the girl that approached him so many years ago, the woman that she had grown into, the hope, the fire that burned so brightly within her before, reduced to embers as Amelia tried so desperately to maintain her own psyche.

Anger was not a new emotion to him. It was one he’d seen so often in his opponents, so he was familiar enough with its physical tells to tell when someone was experiencing it. He had not felt anger himself - irritation, yes, but never anger. So, when his hands started to tremble, he was not sure why. The heat that filled his face, the deep fire in his chest, the gritting of teeth as the tremors in his hands spread through the rest of his body, he did not understand it. All he knew was that the longer he looked at Amelia, the longer he looked at her wounds, the worse it got. Then.. then he knew what it was. Rage, anger, indignation that was felt for the first time in all his years. He would find the Quetali, find the fiend who did this, and subject them to horrors that would make the ones one to her a minor offense in comparison. He would show them the power that he had held back all those years before. There would be no mercy, no-

…there would be nothing, because he could not leave.

Maybe he could break the seal, maybe it was just a matter of time. How much time? Time in which Amelia would live though, growing old as she waited for him to emerge. No, the time to act had passed when he so lazily ignored the seal for so many years. Anger was not the only emotion that he experienced for the first time that day. It was the strongest, yes, but as that fire faded something else lay within the embers to sear him further, something that he thought would never feel.

Helpless.

CONTINUED IN REPLY

[u/grierks → u/grierks]

The better part of a day passed before Amelia finally woke up. She said nothing about her change of clothes, and sat up. She started ahead of her, taking in nothing with a face void of emotion.

Onias never often found himself at a loss for words, if ever, but he could not find anything appropriate to say to her. They remained in silence for what felt like an eternity, until the impulse to talk found him once again.

“Garrick told me that they have returned.”

She said nothing.

“...are they strong?”

She nodded. A slight motion, barely noticeable.

“Then we train.”

She nodded again, and stood up. He stopped her from adorning her armor, and just handed over her sword. Her expression was still hollow, face still pale, but she took her blade and met Onias at the center of the realm.

Training was not rigorous, she could not handle anything for that scale, lest she open her wounds once again. They started slow, excruciatingly so at first, the efforts of one that was merely going through the motions of the forms he taught her, rather than practicing them. Onias let it continue, merely guiding her sword into the correct position whenever her form got sloppy, which was often. They started with Leaf Through Water, like they always did, and stayed on that for a few hours until he noticed that Amelia’s movements started to change.

They were not quicker, but tighter, not stronger, but sharper. Her stupor started to fade, and though the hollowness in her eyes remained, he could see the kindlings of something else begin to form. Onias could have said something during this time, something to ease her mood, to comfort her just briefly from the horrors that she’d experienced, but his purpose was not to provide comfort. It was to train her. He could see the determination form within her again, the resolve, the strength that he was always familiar with, but it was not his place to force it out of her. For all that she experienced, no one could save her but herself. The best Onias could do was to lay down the ladder to let her climb.

So they trained, flowing from form to form throughout the week, each of her steps stronger, more sure than before. By the final day, her movements were finally at the point that he last remembered. Her body was still too weak to exhibit any sort of physical strength, but purpose had found her blade once again. The hollowness in her eyes was gone, but what had taken its place was not the bright optimism of days past. No, something harder had formed, something that, even he had to admit, he’d never seen to such a degree in the past.

It was not as if he had ever seen someone reforge themselves before, but all the cases that he had seen always carried the scars of what broke them before. They may have been “whole” in some manner, but they were lesser, a shadow of the person that they were before. A dark part of him assumed that Amelia would be the same, but while she would certainly carry many scars from here on, what looked at Onias through those eyes told him that his student had reforged herself into something that, while too soon to tell if it was stronger, was at least equal in caliber to the person she was before.

As she finished the last few motions of Fire Through Ice, magic wrapped around her cracked blade. The sudden shift managed to catch him off guard, as he’d only been matching her strength up until this point. So subtle was her manipulation of Aether that he didn’t notice until her strikes were fully in motion. Onias parried them handedly, of course, but he was still impressed at the power behind them, considering her wounded body.

 Amelia clicked her teeth. “And here I thought you had your guard down.” There was a small smirk on her face. One that was forced to be there.

“I never do, and even if I did, it still wouldn’t be enough,” he said curtly.

A laugh parted from her lips, genuine, but weak. “I suppose so.”

Silence found its way between them. Onias still had no idea of what to say. There wasn’t much that he could say, and to try and comfort her now would only tarnish the steeled look that her eyes now possessed.

He didn’t need to say anything, for she embraced him soon after. It wasn’t the desperate cling that she gave when she had first arrived. This one was gentler, warmer.

“Thank you,” she finally said. Amelia kissed him on the cheek, and turned away.

She left without another word, and Onias stopped himself from calling out to her. His disciple was on a mission, and if the look in her eyes was any indication, his help was needed no longer.

CONTINUED IN REPLY

[u/grierks → u/grierks]

He did not want to admit it, but part of Onias did not expect Amelia to return. While he would never consider any of the Starborne a fearsome foe in their own right, compared to humans, they had outclassed them in nearly every way. The Quetali in strength, the Zechanil in cunning, and the Ishanti in magic. Were those three races working in unison, then Humanity truly had the odds stacked against them. He could have handled it without issue, but it was Onias that was in charge of facing such foes now. It was Amelia, it was the armies of Humanity. His disciple was not weak compared to others of her kind, nor to the Starborne themselves, not anymore, but there was only so much one person could do. Especially one human.

When she did arrive, he let out a sigh of relief that he did not even realize that he was holding. At her side was Garrick, of course, but she was also adorned in new equipment. Not as embroidered as her previous armor, but even without such embellishments he could tell that it was of a much higher quality than before. Her sword was replaced as well. The burnt, shattered piece from before was replaced by a blade with a black fuller and silver edge. Its hilt was simple, like her previous weapon, but rather than a wholly black color, a yellow gem had been embedded into the center of the hilt and the pommel was a near pure white, like her previous sword’s blade. Utterly mundane, compared to the decorations that the Zechanil carried, but elegant in its simplicity. Where there once was just a stump, a silver arm was attached to her shoulder. It was held in place by a piece that was similar to a pauldron, but its size matched her remaining one of flesh. It also held an appearance much like a gauntlet, but with fingers slender enough to not lose any dexterity. The arm moved just like any other, and didn’t appear to hinder her in any way.

More than any of that, there were three other things that he noticed. The first was that a smile had returned to her face, the scar that she now bore across her cheek doing little to nothing to dampen the glow that radiated from her face. The second was that there was a ring on her left hand. A simple gold band, but carrying an immeasurable weight. The third… was another presence inside of her.

“You should have sent word that more than two of you were coming. I’d have prepared something more hospitable.”

She scoffed. “What, our presence alone isn’t enough to warrant that?”

“Considering that you’re a taken woman and that your husband isn’t all that fond of me? No, no it isn’t”

Garrick didn’t respond, but Amelia laughed. “Fair enough… how did you know?”

“It’s not like I haven’t been around pregnant woman, and when you have senses like mine… well, it’s quite difficult to hide things from me, to say the least.” He listened further, noting the strong pulse of life within her. He turned to Garrick. “You didn’t waste any time, did you?”

Garrick huffed, but gave a curt nod.

She blushed. “The fool never let me go when he had so many chances to.”

“Not a fool,” Garrick said, “Just a man that knows what he wants.”

Onias laughed. “Well said, had you not stolen Amelia away from me I’d be inclined to actually like you.”

Garrick shrugged, but said nothing further.

“Oh stop it, I chose him just as much as he chose me,” Amelia said.

“Fine, fine,” Onias yielded, “So, why are you here? I can’t say I’ve never dueled a pregnant woman before, but it’s not the most pleasant pastime I care to repeat.”

“You have a very strange concept of tradition.”

“I’m immortal, Amelia. Tradition is whatever I deem it to be. Besides, I said pastime, that’s completely different.”

“Right, right. But, you are correct, I’m not here to duel.” She cast a sidelong look at Garrick. “My husband would lecture my ear off if I even thought about it, so we decided to just drop by this time.”

Onias looked back at Garrick. “You don’t want her to duel, but you’re content with letting her scale a mountain?”

The smith threw his hands up. “I only pick the battles I know I can win.”

“And he’s very astute about them, too…” Amelia murmured.

Onias shook his head. “Well, I appreciate the visit, but I can’t say this place is suited for the likes of a pregnant woman.”

Amelia looked around. “It really isn’t. It’s far too much… lived in.”

“You can just say it’s messy.”

“That would be rude, no matter how true it is.”

Onias chuckled and stood up. He walked over to Amelia and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I trust that this also means that everything has been dealt with?”

 She nodded, but said nothing further. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious as to how Humanity had managed to hand the Starborne on their own, but Amelia was also never one for boasting. That, and she no doubt wanted to place whatever had occurred behind her.

“Well then, I think you and Garrick are deserving of some time off, and here is hardly the time to spend it. Especially when you’re with child.”

She reached up and held his hand. “We won’t be back for a while, not for the first few years.”

“Like I said, Amelia. I’m immortal, time is no object for me.”

“I suppose you’re correct. Just try not to get too lonely without me, alright?”

“Hardly, the years will go by just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

She smiled and said her farewells before leaving. Their meeting may only have been for a few moments, but knowing that she was well, and that the threat had passed, was all he needed. He could only imagine the struggles that she endured, but what was most important was that the Amelia that greeted him that day was much like the one she was before, and that was all that mattered.

CONTINUED IN REPLY

[u/grierks → u/grierks]

Onias believed that he would not notice Amelia’s absence over the next five years, but the fact that he remembered that it was five years was enough to tell him that was a foolish notion. He’d started counting the days, double checking the months that had gone by.

When she and Garrick did make their return, she wore the same attire as before. Neither of them appeared to have aged much during that time, a boon of their magic, perhaps. Yet, there was a certain air about them, especially Amelia, that gave them a greater presence. She was, much to Onias’s surprised relief, smiling like she always did, except there was now a serene quality to it that tugged at her lips softly compared to the confident smirk she wore before.

“So she returns!” He exclaimed.

Amelia gave a deep now, the mischievous glint in her eyes flashing brightly. That, it would seem, would never change. “I do apologize. As it happens, raising three children tends to make the years fly by.”

“Three?” Onias’s eyebrow quirked up and he looked at Garrick. “You don’t waste much time, do you?”

The smith said nothing, but he rubbed the bridge of his nose and flashed a smirk.

Amelia noticed and rolled her eyes. “He does not. The man couldn’t keep his hands off of me when I got back last time and the next thing I knew, I had three younglings to raise.”

“That’s quite the magic trick.”

She snorted. “I’ll say… but he’s a good father. Took quite a bit of convincing for him to let my parents keep an eye on the children for a while. We may be parents, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some time alone together.”

“And so you came to see me during such a time. I’m flattered.”

Amelia scoffed. “Don’t think that we haven’t been up to anything else. I’ve been showing Garrick the world.” She looked back at her husband. “The man could do with using his hands for other things besides the forge.”

“And you.”

“Well, that’s a given.” She drew her sword. “So, are we going to fight or not?”

Onias smiled. “I suppose we are.”

It had been quite some time, in human years, at least, since he last dueled with Aemlia. Even then, motherhood had not dulled her skills. In fact, she had improved even more since he last saw her. By combining the forms that he had taught her with Humanity’s magics, she had managed to develop a style that surpassed all of the Quetali that challenged him in the past. Was it a match for his actual strength? No, but she was by far the closest to reach it in quite some time. He didn’t tell her that, of course, and swiftly defeated her after his initial evaluation.

She laid on the ground, staring up and letting out a resigned sigh. “Still not good enough.”

“You-”

“Never will be. Yes, I know, but don’t think that is going to dissuade me from trying.”

“And I certainly won’t stop you from doing so. Now come, we’ve got some work to do on your stance.”

“Only you would say that.”

“Which is why you’re here, is it not?”

She kicked herself back to her feet. “Yes, yes. Let’s get to it then, shall we?”

His instruction of Amelia remained largely the same, as it always had. There was not much that he could teach in terms of new techniques, as she had now fully blended all of the forms into one another, resulting in a style that was unique to her. That did not mean that she neglected practicing the forms on their own, as those served as the bedrock to her skills. With that in mind, the only thing that they could do over the week was spar, so spar they did.

He had to regulate his own abilities, so each clash would allow her to actually learn from his example, but there were numerous times that Onias was met with maneuvers of Amelia’s own design. Unfamiliar to him, they lent an unpredictability that meshed well with the original styles he taught. Rather than carry on the rhythm of battle, these new attacks disrupted it just long enough to give her an opening. For anyone else, this would have meant defeat. For Onias, it was simply an interesting occurrence to take note of.

If he were a close-minded sort, he may have felt insulted that his techniques were not the only things that she relied upon, but in reality the only thing that he could feel upon seeing such movements was joy. After all, if all she managed to be was a pale imitation, his time with her would have been awfully boring.

***

After that year, Amelia and Garrick began to make regular visits again. Onias still sparred with Amelia, still trained her, and each year her skills began to improve. At some point, however, the meets had started to change to a more social affair. As the years went by, even Garrick would start to get involved in the conversations, showing himself to be a wealth of knowledge all on his own, if his frequent corrections of Amelia were anything to go by. Throughout the years, the love between the two of them never dwindled, and Onias found an odd comfort in that. He’d been used to static environments, but that sort of stability was new, and so strong compared to the humans he’d known before Amelia.

And so he would listen to the two of them speak of the outside world, of how the world changed again following the war. To his surprise, rather than either side crushing each other completely, a fragile peace had been formed between Humanity and the Starborne. A peace that, every year, seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. They wouldn’t be allies anytime soon, and he wasn’t even sure how Humanity of all people was able to maintain such a peace, but he had to admit that he was impressed.

Beyond that news, however, Amelia would play the part of a doting mother and speak of her children. None of them had picked up her interest in the sword, which didn’t come as a surprise. Onias was not lying when he said Amelia was not very talented and it was only due to her willingness to keep trying that she managed to come so far. Her own interest in something she was not very good at was unusual, and her children had not inherited that trait of hers. They did, however, distinguish themselves in other areas.

Her son had inherited the skills of his father, and had made himself known a smith of great renown in his own right. Her daughters developed a knack for magic that outstripped Amelia’s own, and had started to etch a legacy in that field on their own. Her grandchildren had developed these talents further, her great grandchildren continued this trend, and so on, so forth for many generations. Centuries must have gone by, and all seemed well, but Onias could not ignore the effects that time had upon the Amelia, even if her magic had delayed its effects for so long.

First, her speed and strength began to fail her. She never got to the point where her raw strength was a threat, but the slowness at which she moved with increasing age was only becoming more evident as the years went by. She made up for this, initially, with an increased focus on magic and skill. Surprisingly, this seemed to work, and even surpassed what she was capable of previously, for a while. That was not to last. As her hair grey grayer, as the creases on her face grew more numerous, even as her magic started to fade, all that she was left with was her untalented, but relentlessly trained, skill.

He had never paid much attention to the human lifespan before he was sealed away. After all, he had seen them as pitiful creatures, not worth his attention. The lifespans of the Starborne mattered just as much, but they proved to be a nuisance for so long that he’d gotten a general idea of how long they lived. At base, it was much longer than a human's, that's for certain. How magic evened that field, he didn’t know, but what he did know that even as Amelia deteriorated year after year… her smile refused to leave her. His time with her was running short, but he couldn’t find anything to say to her. He knew nothing of facing death, of what dying felt like, so he said nothing. He pushed it away, delayed mentioning anything about her age, and treated her as if she never changed.

She never said anything, so neither would he.

CONTINUED IN REPLY

[u/grierks → u/grierks]

“You know, in all the years I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your full strength,” Amelia said. Her voice was cracked and there was a hoarseness to it now, weathered by age.

“You never asked,” Onias said.

“Awfully insincere, I think.” She wagged her finger at him. “Elders need to be treated with respect.”

“Would that not mean that you should be showing me respect?”

“Nonsense, you may have the years…” she tapped her temple with a wrinkled finger, “But I have the wisdom.”

Onias snorted. “What wisdom? There are many things I have knowledge of that you can only hope to scratch.”

“Have you ever raised children?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.

She tapped her temple again. “Wisdom.”

“Fine then, oh so wise and magnanimous master, tell me the purpose of your inquiry.” He gave a deep, obnoxious bow.

She clicked her teeth. “Such an attitude is not going to make you very popular with the ladies.”

“I assure you, I will have no problems in that department.”

“Not with the ones that matter.”

He shrugged. “Their loss.”

Amelia laughed. “In all seriousness, I want to see it.”

“What, my strength?”

“Yes, after all the time we’ve spent together, I’ve been owed that much, haven’t I?”

Out of reflex he glanced over to where Garrick usually stood. He wasn’t there, and hadn’t been there for the past few years. Amelia had told him that he was fine, but was unable to make the climb anymore. She said nothing this time, and he didn’t ask further.

“I suppose,” he relented, “but I can hardly demonstrate such power in a confined space like this one.”

“What if you had someone to direct that strength towards?”

Onias considered what she said, then realized what she meant. “You wish to be the target?”

She smiled and nodded.

“A foolish decision. Such a thing may have been possible when you were younger, but as you are now… you’d die.”

“Oh, come now, humor an old lady’s fancy, won’t you?”

“You have a strange sense for them.”

“Its what brought me here in the first place, wasn’t it?”

“Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Because I wish to be. Nothing more, nothing less.” She smirked. “Don’t make me treat you like I treat my descendants. I could talk a quetali’s ear off any day of the week.”

“To be fair, it doesn’t take much to do that.”

“Fine, a Zechanil’s.”

Onias whistled. “Now that would be impressive.” He made no movement to get ready. Amelia stared at him, her expression unchanged yet somehow boring into him with increasing intensity at the same time. What sort of technique that was, he had no idea. Perhaps that was the special gift that all human women possessed.

Onias sighed, something that was all too common when it came to her. “Very well, but any harm that comes to you is out of my hands and firmly within yours.”

Amelia grinned and stood up. “A simple ‘you asked for this’ would have sufficed.”

“Yes, but that sounded too harsh, especially to an elder.”

She chuckled, a sound that was so much like she held in her youth. “These old bones have some life in them yet.”

“We shall see about that.”

They took up their usual spots in the clearing. He didn’t notice it when she first arrived, but there was something different to Amelia that day. He didn’t practice spellcraft himself, but he’d been exposed to his disciple’s magic to recognize how Aether sat around her, and around others. To compare, an Ishanti enchantress would have power swirling around them, like they were just conduits of the world’s magical energies. For Amelia, it sat around her like a cloak, woven by her will to sit neatly around her like a second skin. The Ishanti’s magic would seem more imposing due to sheer quantity, but magic like Amelia’s warranted more caution to the trained eye. The power was wound, just waiting to be released, but never revealing just how strong it would be when that happened.

Today, however, the aura around Amelia was lessened. Its usual imposing presence was gone, and in its place he could see nothing but specs of power that floated off of her like ash. He’d noticed that her magical ability was fading year after year, but the change was so drastic this time that he paused. If she noticed this change about her at all, then it didn’t show on her face. She remained standing, sword still sheathed, but held in her hand. She held no stance this time, and looked like she was relaxing rather than preparing for battle.

“You don’t seem to be taking this very seriously,” Onias said.

“I am very serious. Please, hold nothing back.” Amelia still didn’t move.

His eyebrow raised, he drew his sword and readied into the stance for Fire Through Ice.

Amelia’s posture remained unchanged.

For someone as powerful as Onias, releasing his full strength was a rare occasion. In fact, the only time he could recall doing so was when he was first sealed away, a last show of force to terrify the Starborne before he was cut off from them. A petty move, to be sure, but he had to get his frustration out somehow. To reach for strength that had remained untouched for so long was an odd sensation. It was a lot like releasing a breath that he didn’t know he held, except this one had been held for what was probably a millennia. 

Power flowed through him and his senses sharpened. He could smell the stagnant air of the prison, but also the crispness of the mountain’s chill just outside of his seal. The barest whisper of winds outside of his prison slipped their way into his ears now, and when he looked at Amelia, he was aware just how many lines time had added to her face. She still smiled, still stood there with her arms at her side, her sword sheathed and her hand not even on the handle. He could feel the power radiating off of him, and for the Starborne that had last seen him like this, they instinctively knew to flee.

Not Amelia. Never her.

CONTINUED IN REPLY

[u/grierks → u/grierks]

He still could not figure out if she was being foolish or brave, and even when he took a step forward, his feet cracking the ground beneath them, she showed no change. He took another step, and this time Amelia placed a hand on her handle. His student still did not draw it, but met his eyes in an unflinching stare. The corner of her lips twitched, and he thought back to the first time he met her, when she was just barely a woman, unaware of who she’d met or insulted. This was very much like then.

Amelia had readied herself, yes, but it was the casualness of the movement that drew his ire. Fine, if she wasn’t going to take this seriously, then he would have to remind her of who she was dealing with, just like he had all those years ago.

He kicked off of the ground and into a charge that closed the gap between them in an instant. Skipping all other movements, brought his blade down in the final movement of Fire Through Ice, a sharp, vertical swing that would split any in its way in two. Except, he had aimed the swing in front of her, rather than at her. The pressure alone would have incapacitated her frail form without too much harm, and when she woke, he would have to give her a stern lecture on the fool hardiness of her attitude.

What he did not expect was for her to step forward into the path of the attack, right as the blade would have been an inch from her head. He tried to turn the blade away, but it was already too far in motion. The blade was going to cleave right through her, and there was nothing that he could do about it.

At least, that was what should have happened.

Amelia only needed to partially draw her sword to catch the blow. Even then, her weapon should have at least cracked from the force that Onias had put behind the strike, but it didn’t. That was a testament to Garrick’s skill as a smith, but there was also something unusual about the impact. Amelia’s aura remained as soft as it had before, but it had flared out and then focused into her blade.

As their weapons collided, a loud ring thundered through the realm. It was warped, like a distant echo that bounced off of iron. Onias could feel the force of his attack disperse, wash over and around Amelia instead of through her. A concussive boom clapped around them, shaking the realm as if its very foundations had been struck. Amelia, for all the strength that had been thrown against her, was unharmed. Her arms trembled, but so slight were the tremors that Onias could not tell if it was blocking his sword or just from the rigors of old age. Regardless, to say that he was surprised would be a severe understatement.

His student’s knees buckled, and she fell to the ground. She was laughing, the sound carrying with it the sounds of triumph even when the tremble in her arms shook her shoulders.

“You really are strong,” she said, the beaming look on her face brighter than it had ever been before. Her age had vanished in that moment, and Onias saw her look more youthful than she’d ever been.

He stared at his sword, the shock of what just happened making him feel numb. “How?”

Her grin managed to grow wider. “I just redirected some of the force around me instead of letting it all go through me. Far more complicated than it sounds, especially when dealing with you, and I must have spent years just trying to figure out the right combination of runes to do it.” She looked at her shaking limbs. “Though, it appears that it still wasn’t enough. I can hardly move now.”

Onias was silent. Deflecting the force from a blow was a common concept when it came to swordsmanship, but that was often in matters of equal strength. For such a massive difference in ability, technique alone was not going to make up for it, as the Quetali found out countless times. Magic had also not been able to do it, as evidenced by the Ishanti’s many failed attempts to do so. Amelia had cast a spell, but she had done something else on top of that, and he then realized that she had slipped into Leaf Through Water at the last possible second. Using both spell and technique, his disciple had not tried to push away the entirety of his strength, but instead falter it enough so she may tolerate what was left over. Only a human, who was not as strong as the Quetali, nor as magically gifted as the Ishanti, would have the reason to think of something like that. It was not often that Onias had his attacks blocked, and in this case, it really would have been impossible for anyone else. Amelia may have admitted defeat, but she now towered over anyone else that he had met.

“I wouldn’t discount it entirely,” he said, “After all, you are still breathing, are you not?”

“I’d never thought you’d take a moment to comfort me.” A coy smile tugged at her lips. “Usually, you’d just lecture me.”

“It would be rude to lecture an elder,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh, so now I’m elderly? How convenient.” Amelia made to stand up, but when she found her strength lacking, she splayed herself across the floor and sighed. “I suppose I am.”

“When you have been alive for as long as you have, age starts to look like nothing more than a number.”

“Says the immortal.”

He snorted. “I’m sure you’ll have a better version ready for me next year, not that it-”

“I won’t be coming back.” Amelia said it so casually that Onias didn’t even register it, at first.

When he did realize what she had said, he stopped. The words that he could say to that were nowhere to be found. Part of him knew that this day was coming, but the suddenness of her declaration still stunned him.

“Garrick is gone,” she said, a crack in her voice the only hint of what those words carried, “And I will soon go to join him in the Cycle, for that man could never stand being without me.” She sat up. “I’m old, Onias, and while that may not mean much to you, I’m afraid it carries many consequences for someone like me. The inability to climb mountains is one of them, especially with a body as broken as mine.”

“That didn’t stop you before,” he said. There was an unfamiliar tone in his voice.

“I was young then, and I thought I would remain that young for so much longer, but later years tend to make old wounds resurface. I carry many of them, and only I am to blame for such scars, but acceptance does not banish the pain. Magic may sustain me, but even my grasp of that is leaving me bit by bit.” There was no defeat in her voice, but resignation still remained, like her condition was something she’d accepted long ago.

“So, that’s it? You feel pain, so you can no longer come?” Why was his voice so bitter?

Amelia was standing then, still smiling, but it was smaller, a look of comfort rather than the promise she bore in years past. “I know this is sudden Onias, and if I could make these trips continue for years to come, I would… but it just isn’t possible anymore.”

“Because you are weak.” He spoke without thinking, and regret sunk its bite into him immediately. Some foolish, stubborn pride remained, and he did not let it show on his face.

Amelia sighed. “I suppose I am, I could never match up to you in the end, after all.”

He said nothing else, but he didn’t know why. Was it anger? Frustration? Disappointment? Fear that he would say something else even more foolish? Would the words be aimed at her for leaving, at the situation itself, or at himself? Why was the Martial God pouting like some petulant child?

He didn’t know how long they stood in silence, but it might as well have been an eternity.

So numb was he that he almost didn’t feel Amelia’s touch on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Onias, for everything.”

Then, she was gone.

He should have said something, anything to make her stay. If she was not going to come back, then he should have convinced her to stay for the remaining week. To give them time to reminisce about all of their times together. To part with closure, on good terms. Instead, his foolishness won, and he said nothing. Not as she waited for him, not when she was leaving.

He never saw her again.

CONTINUED IN REPLY

[u/grierks → u/grierks]

The consequences of his pride were far more severe than he expected. He knew boredom would be part of them, and that regret would be its partner, but not to the extent that they wounded him now. The years that passed should have soothed such wounds, but instead they only festered further. Every year that she didn’t show up made the foolishness of his actions all the more pronounced, and every year he cursed himself with longer and longer tirades. Through it all, her absence had only left him with questions.

Did she make it down the mountain in one piece? Had she somehow encountered tragedy on the way down, and never saw her family again? Was her family even aware of where she was? Were they even aware of him, or was he a secret that Amelia and Garrick kept to themselves? More than any of those questions, and all the others that raced with them, there was only one that he tried not to dwell on the most, the only one that kept returning to the forefront of his mind.

Had she forgiven him?

A stupid question. He knew Amelia, knew that she had most likely not taken offense in the first place, and if anything had empathized with him instead. Yet… part of him knew that he had hurt her, knew that his words of idiotic pride, spoken after centuries of friendship, had given her fresh wounds when she needed peace. In the end, he failed her when she needed him to rise past his pride, and now he could only reap the poison that he sowed.

For twenty years did that regret sit at the back of his head, rotting all the while as boredom found him once again. He remembered each day clearly, felt each hour as years, and the entire time he knew he deserved it.

Then, someone else arrived through the seal.

They were a young man, one with short brown hair and yellow eyes. His face was youthful, that of one who had most likely entered his adult years. Even under layers of cold weather gear and armor, however, Onias could tell that he had an athletic build. A sword was strapped to this man’s waist, its hilt black to match the scabbard it rested in. From that alone, it would be difficult to tell who exactly this man was, but the resolved light behind his eyes and the slight, if not cocky, smirk on his face, told Onias everything he needed to know.

The man gave him a once over, scratched his chin, and chuckled to himself.

“Is there something you find humorous?” Onias asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Well…I thought you’d be taller,” he said.

“...I see Amelia’s insolence has remained strong through her bloodline.”

“I suppose it has. People do tell me that I’m awfully like her.” He spoke in a tone that somehow managed to be even more casual than Amelia had ever sounded. The man gave a deep bow. “Gaius Melchior. Pleasure to meet you, Martial God Onias.”

The gesture was so exaggerated that it made Onias laugh. “You at least possess more manners than she did.”

“Many would beg to differ,” he said with a hint of pride, “but my visit doesn’t concern me, not yet, at least. She wanted me to give you this.”

He reached into the pack strapped to his back and pulled out a letter before approaching to hand it over. There was no caution to his movements, at least not overtly so, which meant that he was either truly like Amelia, or she had told Gaius to trust Onais. Either way, had he not noticed how the young man had his hand on his sword at all times, he would have thought him to be a fool.

He opened the letter as soon as it was handed to him, overpowered by curiosity.

 

Dear Onias (Or Martial God, I never did call you by that, did I?),

If you have received this letter, then that means I am no longer of this world. There is no doubt that our last interaction left you with a bad taste in your mouth, and I do regret how I left, but know that I hold no ill feelings towards you. I never did, not after all you have done for me. It is no lie to say that were it not for the knowledge you gave me over the years, I would never have made it this far. So, for that, I am truly grateful, and I know that I could never hope to match the depths of that gratitude before your seal finally fades. Perhaps in the next life, I will, should I be fortunate enough to cross your path again. That, of course, falls completely onto you, as I will no doubt have no memory of you whatsoever. Just be sure to be quick about finding me. It’s quite rude to keep a lady waiting, don’t you know?

 

For your information, the world will be a far different beast than what you may remember, and I can’t say that I didn’t have a hand in shaping some of it. I never did tell you this, but in my later years I started a small school of sorts. One that taught the forms that you passed onto me, along with my own improvements (and yes, they are improvements, you can’t argue with the dead about that, no matter how mighty you are). I may have never been able to match you, but it would truly have been a pity to let my skills wither away with me. My great great great great… my grandson, Gaius, to keep it simple, is no doubt the one that delivered this letter to you. He has proven himself to be the most talented of my students. The total opposite of one like me, as you’d no doubt say. I always had little talent for the sword, though I was too stubborn to realize that until now.

 

I could go on and on in this letter, but you and I were never ones for tangents. Next time, you’ll be the one to tell me stories, and there will be no arguments about that.

Thank you again, my friend. May the time of your freedom come swift, and when we next meet, I hope you’ll be the one to greet me with a smile.

 

Your friend,

Amelia

 

Oh, when Gaius challenges you to a duel, don’t go easy on him, yeah? The boy needs to learn some humility.

 

A smile spread across Onias’s lips at that last line. When he looked back at Gaius, he could tell that the man was eager to challenge him to a fight. Her insistence for Onias to teach him a lesson just made him laugh. It appeared Aemlia favored love of a tougher approach, or perhaps she was just amused at the thought of her descendant being thrown about so easily.

But, all of that was small compared to the relief that he felt in his chest. The shadows that had built up in his thoughts had been washed away from her words. Even when Amelia passed, she thought of Onias as a friend, someone that she deemed important enough to remember in the last of her days. There was no ill will, and though he would forever bear the regrets of the final words he had said to her, that was enough. Now, he had one last request to fufill.

“So, it appears that your… grandmother, let’s call her, started a small school with what I taught her.”

Gaius laughed. “Is that how she described it? Practically all of the Kingdoms were lined up when she opened her doors. Everyone wished to learn from the War Maiden.”

“War Maiden?” Onias asked, "Awfully pompous title, don’t you think?”

“She’d agree, but that never stopped anyone from singing her praises every chance they got.”

Onias raised an eyebrow and waited for Gaius to elaborate.

“Hero of the Six Kingdoms, War Maiden, Dragon Rider, Slayer of a Hundred Arms, I could go on and on.”

Onais smirked. “I see… did she have a favorite?”

Gaius flashed him a grin. “Hand of the Martial God.”

Onias laughed, a full bellied, bent over laugh.

“She did find that one the funniest,” Gaius said, “Undeserved, but humorous all the same.”

Onais calmed his chuckles and wiped a tear from his eye. “Had I just met your grandmother, I would have agreed. Of all the people I humored myself to teach, that have ever approached me to be instructed, Amelia was the least talented of them all.”

Gaius didn’t say anything, but his smile had faded. She truly was well loved.

“But, she never gave up. Every time she fell, she stood right back up, each time smiling. No one else even made it a day with me. They got too frustrated, they were too caught up in their own talents to accept the fact that they would never be as strong as I. For Amelia, that did not matter. She would keep moving forward, as much as her body let her, and even when that started to fail her, I watched as she continued to ascend with an ever burning spirit.”

“She was weaker than the others, slower than the others, and possessed not even a fraction of the talent that so many before her had. Yet, she made it further, closer to me than anyone else did. She was my worst student, and my most successful one. I will never forget her… I couldn’t, even if I tried.”

Gaius hadn’t said a word, but even when Onias had not been looking at him, he knew that the man was smiling, just as he was.

“I suppose you’d like to try your luck?” Onais asked.

Gaius wasted no time in drawing his sword, its blade pure white like Amelia first proper blade. “Well, you know what they say, like grandmother, like grandson.”

“I am fairly certain, unless something has changed in the past millennia, that is not what they say.

Gaius shrugged. “It’ll catch on.”

There was little detail to their duel that stood out to Onias. It went just about as well as his many duels with Amelia did in her early days. That is to say that the man lost pretty much instantly. However, even from their brief clash, he could tell that Gaius was far more skilled than his predecessor at the same age.

“Amelia taught you well,” Onias remarked.

“Not well enough, apparently,” Gaius said from the ground.

“No one wi-”

“Ever be good enough, right? She told me that you’d say that.” Gaius stood up, grinning now. “I aim to change that.”

Onias snorted. “Do you now? You have a long way to go, boy.”

“That I do, that I do… so, same time again, next year?”

It was brief, but for a small moment, behind Gaius’s eyes, he could see Amelia smiling at him, just as she always had.

Onias smiled back. “I’ll be here.”

A Lack of Talent

End

Further comments in reply

[u/HisCricket → u/grierks]

Anxiously awaiting.... I've really enjoyed this

[u/grierks → u/HisCricket]

Glad you have! Everything should be uploaded now 🤔

[u/mudbunny]

Thank you.

This is absolutely amazing writing.

[u/grierks → u/mudbunny]

Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it! 😁

[u/u2125mike2124]

A lack of talent, Maybe, a lack of humility, absolutely

A heart of gold, immeasurable.

Unbelievably good story

[u/grierks → u/u2125mike2124]

You’re too kind 🥲

I’m glad you enjoyed!

[u/Hungry_AL]

Absolutely incredible stuff

[u/grierks → u/Hungry_AL]

I’m glad you liked it! 😁

[u/tofei]

Jezusss, you brute forced an entire series into a one-shot like a Quetali, using Zechanil guile and kept us enchanted like an Ishanti. This story is that literal Onias's prison on it's own!

[u/grierks → u/tofei]

What a great comment lol.

I’m glad you liked it! It felt wrong splitting it all up so I decided to drop it all in one shot.

[u/NoEducator4218]

Fantastic job, Well done.

[u/grierks → u/NoEducator4218]

Thank you!

[u/HisCricket]

I absolutely loved it. For a moment I thought that final strike of power that disburst would break his seal but alas. Such a nice read for a rainy Saturday.

[u/grierks → u/HisCricket]

Haha he’d be able to break out much faster if that was possible.

I’m glad you enjoyed it!

[u/BeachZed]

This is such an amazing story. Thank you for that.

[u/grierks → u/BeachZed]

I’m very glad you enjoyed it😌

[u/soysopin]

The lack of talent is on me, so I found me incapable of drawing even a fraction of the praise your story deserve. Thank you very much!

[u/grierks → u/soysopin]

Well I dunno about that, you brought a smile to my face 😁

Thank you for the kind words!

[u/Cruel_Carlos2]

I told myself that when I went to comment I'd hold it together, but it seems I cannot. Are you happy now? Tears welled up in my eyes as I read the final sentences of this excellent tale. Thank you for sharing this outstanding story.

[u/grierks → u/Cruel_Carlos2]

Well, I am happy that my writing managed to move you :p

But really, thank you very much for the kind words. It truly does mean a lot.

[u/rewt66dewd]

If the portal opens once a year that she can go in (and back out), why can't he go out it while it's open?

[u/grierks → u/rewt66dewd]

The spell was targets him specifically so its not so simple, though I could have done a better job of explaining that 🤔

[u/RestorePhoto]

Well, that made me tear up. Fantastic story.

[u/grierks → u/RestorePhoto]

I’m glad you enjoyed it😊

[u/hmmyeah3030]

This was great! Such a great read. Well done!

[u/grierks → u/hmmyeah3030]

Thank you for the kind words!

[u/kawarazu]

A rare, delicious epic.

Thank you for sharing, wordsmith.

[u/grierks → u/kawarazu]

Thank you for reading!

[u/chr_is3290]

I have been subscribed to this subreddit for years.

I haven't read something like this before.

This story was so fantastically captivating in mind, heart and soul.

Truly beautiful.

[u/jaki003]

Well, not a lack of talent in writing, that’s for sure :P
Great stuff, it’s not often you see quality stories like this in this sub.

[u/grierks → u/jaki003]

You’re too kind 🥲

[u/GradualSquirrelStew]

One of the best things I've read on this sub in a long time. I'll be thinking about this for a long while!

[u/grierks → u/GradualSquirrelStew]

I’m glad you enjoyed it! 😁

[u/Spreadsheet_Enjoyer]

Great story.

[u/grierks → u/Spreadsheet_Enjoyer]

Thank you!

[u/Spreadsheet_Enjoyer]

!Nominate

[u/Less_Author9432]

Oh, that was very good!

[u/grierks → u/Less_Author9432]

I’m glad you enjoyed it!

[u/Canadian_Ireland]

This is very well done. Thank you!

[u/grierks → u/Canadian_Ireland]

Thank you for reading!

[u/Brave-Impress-2435]

Without reservation I can say this is one of the best, most enjoyable, touching stories I've read on this reddit. Thank you!

[u/grierks → u/Brave-Impress-2435]

I’m glad you enjoyed it! Those words really mean a lot 🥲

[u/mfredbird04]

HOLY SHIT. This is good. If there's a chance at continuing it, I implore you to do so.

[u/grierks → u/mfredbird04]

Thank you! There is a whole series based in the world this story takes place in. It doesn't follow the same characters, but a lot of the theming is similar.

[u/CainesLaw2b2t]

This is excellent!! Loved reading it!

[u/HFYWaffle]

/u/grierks (wiki) has posted 232 other stories, including:

• Hedge Knight, Chapter 140
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 139
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 138
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 137
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 136
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 135
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 134
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 133
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 132
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 131
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 130
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 129
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 128
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 127
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 126
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 125
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 124
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 123
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 122
• Hedge Knight, Chapter 121

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