Hello, thank you for choosing to read my very first fanfic! This character and story that will be unfolded is very close to my heart and I will put effort into this. All I ask is for genuine reviews because I wish not to go off canon. I'm not exactly a OOC fanfic writer... Anyhow, enjoy!


I woke up on the ground without memory with what had happened to me. My lungs felt as if they were scorched, my eyes blurry and tingly, my head throbbing. I realized then that my heart was racing, my palms were moist, my claws extended, my body aching and shaky. What...what happened? I sat up, gazing at my beautiful snow leopard fur now matted with dried blood sunk into it. My ears were flat to my head, something didn't feel right. I looked for father to give me more instructions on his sword training. Before I even made it to my feet, the stench of fresh blood hit my nostrils, my wings flared outward, tail swished back and forth absent-mindedly, and long cat ears perked up in alertness. Oh no...it's happened again...

I tried to calm myself before my thirst for gore kicked in. Panic raced through my veins, practically replacing my flowing blood. It was as if breath left my body. I fought the urge to pass out again; to keep my consciousness but having much doubt of preserving any sanity. My eyes widened and my pupils narrowed. A chill went up my spine; it froze me into place. I wanted to scream but no voice came from my mandibles. I slowly raised my hands that were covered in someone else's blood. I lowered them and saw the carcass of my father. Kneeling by his body, I was hesitant to even touch his face. I chose to anyhow. Shifting closer to press my forehead against his, I felt something cold against my tail. I about jolted a few feet backwards. It was one of the two hilts that my father was training me with that was now covered with his blood. Instead of screaming like I had wanted to moments ago, I broke down and wept over his chest. Within my mind, the screaming was ceaseless and the havoc endless.

Those minutes passed on like years spent in cryosleep. The sound of my crying overlapped with the seemingly distant call of my name. When it was then I felt a loving hand upon my head. I jerked away from it, frightened. I looked up to see it was my father caressing me gently!

"Ruz, my child, why are you weeping?" I cried a small tear of joy, not wanting him to see my weakness.

"Because, father, when I thought you had passed on, you have awakened from sleep!" I embraced him, showing how much I really loved him. As I let go, he tilted his head thoughtfully.

"You act as if you are an innocent child. My dear, you are no longer a child. Today, is a day of many years put behind you. Today, you have nearly mastered the skills of my own swords." I didn't want him to say anything. I just wanted him to get up, silently heal, and rest until another day of training.

"Father, please do not say such things. I'm am merely joyful that you are alive. Get up, Father, you need to rest for another day of training me," I began to help him up when he put his hand on his seeping wound. His face hid his pain well yet the stare that he gave shocked me. I've never seen him with nerves of steel. Apathy filled his eyes and I shook. "Um..." I had lost my words. "What...is it, father?" He looked at me sharply before groaning in pain and lying flat on his back again. I sat over him to pray silently that he make it alive.

"Ruz, listen carefully. Do you remember when I had first told you that death is the necessity of war? That bloodshed is required to silence those unworthy of speaking against our Lords? My daughter, we do indeed share blood and the honor that flows through it. Even as I die here, never forget that I sacrificed my life, my honor, for your very breath. Heed those who tell you that you will never step foot into battle. Prove them wrong, take my blades and walk. Walk the Path. Don't look back. I see myself within you now. Everything I taught you is showing through. Hold onto every last ounce you have. My precious jewel, the Elders will hesitate to put you into further training, which is why I have done most of that for them." He coughed out some blood that clogged his throat. "But, you are older now, you require a more disciplined and experienced teacher." He closed his eyes, curling his mandibles, feeling the pain and some blood slowly oozing out of the wound. "When the sun had set, I was going to introduce you to the armor I had crafted for you. If you wish to walk my Path, it is enclosed in a casket hanging on the wall by my bed. I've kept it a secret from you for so long, I only wish I was strong enough to see it on you, in case adjustments must be made."

"No Father! You can and will-" He put his fingers to my mandibles. "Hush now, little one. Accept my departure, you know that even in death, I will never leave your side. I am in you." He made a soft sigh, making it sound like it was his last. "Darkness clouds my vision, sweet Ruz. My Beloved, as your trainer, I declare you now...a warrior..." Though these were his last words, I could not yet accept his death. I cried out his name for an answer, knowing there would be none in return. The wind blew hard and cold. Rain paralleled the strength of the wind. My tears were masked by the raindrops. Thunder claps in the distance startled me, I saw the glow of the lightning, before looking at the ground. Only listening to the rain for a few moments. I hugged my shoulders, looking away from my dead father. After silence swept over me falling from this rain and burying him near the river, I went inside his room, gently touching the rug he slept upon. I then noticed the casket he mentioned. I opened it with struggle and the armor fell out, knocking me to the floor. It was the most beautiful piece of handcrafted artwork I had ever seen. Every detail was perfectly made for my body. From the holes for my ears to the holes for my tail. It was so customly designed! I almost wanted to cry! But I shook that urge off, already having mourned his death.

Putting on the armor, piece by piece, I felt the love that my father put into it; as if I could feel every thought he had while making the individual pieces. I walked out of the house, closing the door for what might be the last time. I took up my rain-drenched swords and attached the hilts to my harness. I looked to the heavens. The helmet allowed me to see even with rain falling on it. I watched each droplet spread across my visor, focusing only on the sound of the thunder in the distance. "How sickeningly appropriate…" I thought as I sighed towards the horizon, closing my eyes. "Of course the weather changes once someone has died…" I sighed, taking off my helmet, letting the rain wash my tears off my face. After putting the helmet on, my body was ready to take the journey to the Prophets. But my mind on the other hand was not finished grieving. Memories flooded my mind, as if appearing on my visor, all at once yet slowed down only to torment my broken soul. Looking at the hilts, I remembered what he told me whilst handing them to me as if it happened five minutes ago.

"You may not be of male descent, but you are my blood; therefore, you will fight. I will teach you all that I know and you will pass it on to any who carefully observes your skills, including your offspring. You will not know defeat or cowardice." He said this to me when began to instruct me with his lean blades (Forging these specifically to fit my hands after using them the first few weeks; how could any daughter in their right mind deny such a loving father?). At first, my young mind didn't fully understand, as my femininity innately did not comprehend the purpose of training yet. This day is not only special because it was my first day training, but also because that was the day he claimed from the very beginning as my day of birth; considering he doesn't know the actual date. He told me that his dear friend Sasa found me in the hands of his once close brother who apparently had gone rampant and could have harmed me. I guess Sasa knew my father so desperately needed to continue his teachings to some kind of heir before he passed. I don't believe he has quite yet, at least, not all he knows anyway…

A tear ran down my cheek remembering that he daily told me that the moment he laid eyes on me while in Sasa's arms, he fell in love with my green eyes as I stared happily cooing into his eyes. My chest felt heavy with hurt; as if many pounds were weighing it down, forcing me to fall flat on my face. I caught myself with my hand before fulfilling that request. I need to be strong, for him. I am his only heir and do not take his words that he told me years ago lightly; especially not the words of today. I am just as adamant to train as he was to train me. His many years of experience will not die off in vain.

I accepted the path that he chose for me. No other would do. I took those words he gave to me as if they were all I had to keep me going. I still do. And as a Sangheili in the Covenant-Human war, you have to be strong. Swift. Brave. Fearless. Tactical. Hard-working. Cooperative. But most of all, a warrior who know no defeat or retreat. I may not have retained all those skills from blood, but I sure was going to earn it. As I realized that while somehow I took his life, I knew I had to find an excuse for the Hierarchs so that they would not be suspicious. If today was to be special in any way rather than mournful, today is more than a monument to my father's passing but also a memorial to the notion that I was built for destruction. The eternal second of reminiscing ended with a thunderclap jolting me back into reality. I momentarily forgot where I was until I looked to the mushroom shaped city in the sky peeking from the clouds that began to finally divide. High Charity was only a few weeks away if the Elders accepted me. I clenched to a hilt on my harness. I was not going to allow them to deny my ever-growing skill! I nodded to the clouds in the distance parting, showing light. I felt as if my father were speaking to me from the grave, if he could. But I know he that sleeps beneath the dirt where I laid his corpse. I also knew that if he saw me put on the armor, he, too, would be thrilled about how well the armor had suited my figure. I can see him now, smiling and laughing. I shook my head. I needed to mentally accept his death. I sighed, trying to do so. I couldn't help but grin, thinking that, though he may be dead, he would be proud of me for walking the Path. And that is what made me feel like this choice was not only fate but a good choice. I could almost could feel the warmth of the light miles away. My next objective was to seek the acceptance of the Council of Elders. Sangheili, Jiralhanae, or human, whoever caused me to spill my father's blood does not concern me. The fact that they still live does. I will make history. And I'll form my own Path while doing so.


I hope my first readers enjoyed this! I added things to what I wrote a while back and I believe it's much better than what I had!

Next time: Ruz has some difficulty talking to the Councilman.