1. Bones of the North
As I touched the gemstone, I could feel nothing. It was just a rock. Typical.
The priest looked at me with a wry face, almost scornful.
"Serves you right, the way you are," the priest said, and immediately stepped aside to let me down the stairs. Being accustomed to this, I merely brushed past him, onto the hard stone floor of the shrine, ignoring his piercing and haughty gaze. I felt somewhat ashamed. The Duke had expected that now of age, I would find the source of magic with a single touch. How wrong he was. Something crept inside me then, but I pushed it away, hoping to focus on better things.
Outside, the wind was fresh against my face. Further down the mountainside, I saw an eagle perched on a tree, the blood still on its beak. This is no place for the weak. I remarked to myself how surprised I was that a few arcane words were able to escort these pompous fat priests up to the shrine, and then realized that they hadn't come on their own. They are accompanied by knights when they travel down for supplies. I laughed to myself.
The snow on the ground was reassuring. Not everything was as it seemed: while I was broken, at least I could still feel. Far too often it seems, feeling has left this world. People go on their business thinking their mastery of nature is some kind of gift to them for being so wonderful and high-born, when really they are just as delicate as the snow under one's boots. They are just as natural a part of this world as I am, even though I hold no arcane words traced on the skin of my heart.
The wolves of the snowy mountain were finished resting now. I could sense their eyes on me, but I had not accustomed myself to their patterns yet, and they caught me unaware. After bandaging my wounds from a bite in the left arm, I continued down the mountainside, cursing my inexcusable flight of fancy.
-Kairu