Hey. I'm back.


Interlude


Aversa was awake long before the morning bells started to toll. The cold air bit into her with sharp, stinging claws, and the thin, burlap sheet did little to stop the breeze from slipping through, aside from digging its itchy bristles into her skin, and her arms shook violently at the icy touch of the wind. Her teeth had begun to hurt from chattering so much, and her head was ringing so loudly it took her a second to realize that the ringing wasn't coming from her head at all.

Keeping her sheet wrapped tightly around her body, she pushed herself off the ground slowly–a difficult task, given how much her arms were still shaking. Aversa groaned, and silently she wished she didn't have to sleep in a room with such a big window. With nothing to keep out the cold, Plegian nights could feel like they would freeze someone to death. Then again, her father told her that she would never be baked alive by the heat of the Plegian day in such a cool room, so it would not do her well to think such ungrateful thoughts.

The burlap sheet slipped from her fingers. Bitter cold doused her skin in an instant, and her muscles locked tight. Aversa cried out and collapsed back to the floor.

For a minute, she lay there, her cheek pressed to the icy ground. She was cold. She was hungry. And she was so tired. She didn't want to move at all, not until her father came back to get her.

But the sun would keep moving across the sky. Servants would come and go through the halls just outside her room. Sooner or later, someone would come to get her and make sure she didn't miss her lessons.

Again, she pushed off the ground. It was easier this time, once her arms had adjusted to the morning chill. They still shook with every move she made, but with the sun leaking in through the windows and warming her skin, they would not freeze again. The floor was still cold against her bare feet, but she hardly noticed as she dragged her body through her empty room and over to the window.

Sand. It was all she could see stretched out beyond the castle gate. The vast Plegian desert, painted pink in the rising sun half-buried in the dunes, was as empty as it had been for the past year. No matter how hard she looked, she could not find any Plegian flags sticking out of the sand, or hear the shouts of a returning army.

It seemed father wasn't going to be coming back today, either.

Father, she thought, closing her eyes with a worried frown, what is taking you so long to come home? I miss you.

Silently, she sent a prayer to the Fell Dragon for the safety of her father, just as he had taught her to do, and when she was done, she pulled away from the window. She turned toward the door, only to hesitate after a single step.

She reached down to smell her robes. They were deep purple, like the ones her father wore–a gracious gift on his end. It was important that she made sure they were always clean, especially because she had nothing else to wear.

Carefully, Aversa thumbed over the folds and ran her hands over the cloth, checking for dust or any large stains. For the moment, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with them, so there was little she had to worry herself about. Brushing down her robes and making sure it was pulled up all the way, Aversa took one last look at herself, and once she was satisfied, she made for the door.


The dining hall was empty. That was fine. Aversa was used to eating alone by now, and today was no different.

Clink.

Aversa spooned another helping of porridge into her mouth. It no longer made her nervous, hearing that sound echo through the vast chamber. It wasn't as if she cared whether anyone else bothered to keep her company.

Clink.

Even when other people were around, no one wanted to sit at the back of the room with her. Her breakfast, lunch, and dinner were always lonely affairs. Her father, meanwhile, was always seated so far away, at the front of the hall with the king and his other generals.

He was an important man, she knew, and that was why he got to sit at the front. Aversa also knew she was not nearly as important, so she had to sit in the back. Her father had his place in the hall, and so did she.

Clink. Clink.

Her bowl was almost empty by now. Only small strands remained at the edges, so she scraped her wooden spoon against the side to clean them off, but they refused to cooperate.

Her father had promised her that, one day, when she was good enough, she could sit at his side. He'd told her that last year, and the year before, and she was starting to think she would never earn her place at his table.

Just like she hadn't earned anything better than porridge for breakfast last night.

Aversa clenched her spoon tight. Her lips pulled into a line, almost into a scowl, before she stopped. She let out her frustration in one long breath.

Father said such displays were beneath her. She needed to learn to keep her thoughts in check, no matter how much she wanted to explode. Be patient, Aversa. Good things come to those who wait, she told herself.

With a shaking hand, she set her spoon back into her bowl. She took another deep breath. No one could ever get what they wanted if they demanded for it.

Aversa considered using her finger to catch the evasive leftover porridge for a moment, before she decided it wasn't worth it. Such behavior, such childish behavior, was improper for a Grimleal to show. They had to act dignified to earn the respect they deserved.


"Wrong!"

Aversa's head snapped to the side, a red welt on her cheek. Before her, Ardri, the teacher her father had assigned her while he was away, withdrew his arms and folded them back under his coat. His lips peeled back into an ugly scowl.

Aversa turned back to face him slowly. The side of her face still stung, but she refused to let it weaken her glare.

"What did I do wrong?" she asked.

"Everything!"

Hardly helpful. Her lips twitched down. She wiped her sleeve across her face before he could notice, and adjusted the Nosferatu tome in her other hand.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't ask what I mean!" Ardri snarled. He flailed his arms to the side, where a straw dummy lay in glimmering purple pieces on the floor.

"But I hit it," Avera said. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No, you idiot! I told you to hit the target, not knock it down." Ardri's lips curled down, as something disgusted him. "Your uncontrolled attack shows a clear lack of restraint."

"You didn't say that."

"Don't question my words. I know what I said!"

Aversa keeled over, all the air forced out of her lungs without warning as Ardri drove his fist into her stomach. Aversa collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath, all while Ardri folded his arms across his chest, his beady eyes glowering down at her with contempt.

"I should have known not to expect any competence from you," he growled. "People like you have no need to explore a subject as extensive as dark magic."

Ardri hated her. She didn't know why he did, but ever since her father had left him in charge of her, he had done everything to make her life horrible, and Aversa hated him back. That much, she was sure of.

She hated his pig-like face, she hated his small face. She hated the smug way he smiled whenever she failed, and the vile way he looked at her whenever she got something right.

She wanted him gone, the same way her father could have people he didn't like dragged away with ease. She wanted to punch his stupid pig face in and blast him with the same magic he said she had no idea how to control.

But her father would never approve. Control yourself, he would tell her. Do not stoop to level yourself with the rabble.

So as Ardri's voice snapped out again, ordering her to cast her spell again, she kept her face straight, and she did what she was told.


By the time Aversa slipped back into her room, the moon had already begun to peek over the sandy hills. The sun was on the other side of the castle now, and her entire room was cast in shadow. She could barely see the cracks between the stone bricks outlined by the traces of moonlight, and though she knew it was childish nonsense, the deep black lines drawn all across her walls gave her the uneasiest feeling, as if there could be someone else hiding in here.

With a sigh, Aversa walked over to the window and draped herself over the edge.

She knew her father hadn't been gone for that long, but it felt like forever. He'd left her with the task to learn as much as she could while he was away, and while she was sure she had improved some since she'd last seen him, Ardri's horrible teaching made it hard for her to tell.

Aversa moved, propping her head up with an arm, and as she watched the moon rise, she wondered what it was he was doing right now that was keeping him away from her.

Ever since he left, her life was horrible. She had no one to talk to, no one else to show her magic skills to. She had no one to tell her that she had earned anything more than a bowl of porridge to eat and a burlap sheet to sleep in. As soon as her father was back, she knew he would set everything right again. As soon as he was back, she would train herself to be the strongest dark mage in all of Plegia and earn her place by his side.

If he ever came back, that was.

Aversa broke herself out of her head, pulling away from the window with a shake of her head. No. He will come back, she thought. Father is the smartest man in all of Plegia, in the entire world! He won't die, I know it!

One last time, Aversa's eyes traced the horizon, searching for any sign of life, any sign that her father was returning. Most nights, it was a fruitless search, and when she did find someone, it was always a stray merchant or messenger. War took a long time, her father always said, and he told her he would not be back for a long time.

A year had gone by now. Wasn't that long enough?

Aversa was just about to give up when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted movement. A flicker of purple struck the silver moon. Aversa darted back to the window, leaning out as far as she dared.

She didn't want to get her hopes up. It could just be another messenger, come back to tell them to send more troops to the front lines.

When another flag emerged, followed by three more, though, she knew it was not just some lone messenger. Her father's army was returning, and she hoped that somewhere within the approaching mass of soldiers, was her father.

Aversa almost bolted out of her room, before she stumbled to a halt. If he really was here, which he probably was, what would her father think if he saw her like that? He would not expect her to run, or to show how excited she was with his return. It was beneath her.

Quickly composing herself, Aversa dusted her robes, and she strolled out of her room and through the castle's halls, making sure to move more slowly this time.

Getting into the castle's courtyard was no challenge for her. She had traversed these halls so many times, she knew exactly which corners to turn and which doors to go through to find her way around. A few more servants passed her as she pressed on, growing more excited than the last. Whispers passed between them, of casualties, of another looming war, and of the master's return–of her father's return.

Her father was back. That confirmed it.

Still, she wanted to see him for herself, just to be really sure.

When Aversa finally entered the courtyard, she found it filled with bright lights and people milling about. Tables heaped with food were placed scattered about, and soldiers wandered from one to another with cheerful words between them. Torches burned brightly, chasing away the oncoming darkness with warm orange light. Around her, people were talking, hugging, eating, crying.

And Aversa couldn't find her father anywhere in the crowd.

A few people exclaimed angrily as she pushed her way through them. Aversa ignored their cries. If they wanted to complain, they could speak to her father. She ducked, wove, and skipped through legs dusty and worn from battle. A servant girl stumbled into her vision, and Aversa shoved her aside without a second thought. When she heard something clatter to the ground behind her, a pang of sympathy flicked her heart, but she pressed it back down.

The bustling crowd parted for a moment, and Aversa passed a trio of soldiers talking to themselves. She considered stopping to ask for them if they'd seen her father, but when one of them muttered something about getting a drink, she decided against it. Her father hated anyone who drank.

Diving back into the mob, Aversa found herself increasingly frustrated with how hard it was to find her father. She searched through waving arms, dancing bodies, cascades of spilled booze and meat, but she couldn't find even a trace of him, not a flash of gold jewelry, nor a snip of deep purple robes.

The servants said he was back, so where was he? Were the servants lying? Or maybe she hadn't heard them right?

Aversa continued her search, but her patience was beginning to wear thin. She'd waited a whole year to see him again, and now that he was finally here, she refused to believe she couldn't meet him. The lights were too bright, the talking was too loud. Everything and everyone was beginning to eat away at her, and she wanted everyone to shut up!

Aversa bumped into another soldier. She hissed, annoyed at the contact, and for a brief moment, she let her eyes stray to look at him.

He wasn't celebrating. Unlike the rest of the soldiers, he didn't look happy at all. His eyes stared far away, like he wasn't all there, and his lips twisted in a way as if he had eaten something disgusting. It was such a strange sight, it forced her to stop for a moment.

"–a comfortable room. A boy like him needs plenty of rest if he is to grow into his potential." Her father's voice cut through her daze, startling her back to the present.

Her heart leaped, hearing that familiar voice, and suddenly Aversa found herself brimming with newfound energy. She broke into a run, tumbling under the packed soldiers and servants. Plates soared above her, people shouted in anger, but Aversa ignored them all. He was here; she knew he was here, and she didn't have time to stop for anyone else.

She broke through the edge of the crowd, and finally, she saw him.

Validar, her father, paused and glanced back over at her. And in his arms was a boy with white hair she'd never seen before.

Aversa's eyes narrowed. Suddenly, she didn't feel so happy anymore, and against her better judgment, she pointed at the boy.

"Father," she said. "Who is that?"


There's something strangely nostalgic about coming back to the FFN Doc Manager page after a month away. I haven't even been gone that long, and it feels still feels like it's been ages. Funny how that works out, isn't it?

Anyway, I'm back. Sorry it isn't early January or late December like I said it'd be, but 2020 has a way of biting you in the arse, so I had to put it off for some time. And hey, it's 2021 now. Here's to hoping I'll be able to stick to my update schedule and be able to get things out more consistently.

Pretty excited to get back into the swing of things, with all the new stuff I've got planned for the oncoming chapters. I won't say I don't ever forget things (because I most certainly do), but a lot of stuff is going to come back and be set up, and I'm pretty stoked to see how I can get them down.

(Also, something else to note is that I made some changes to the description. I received some complaints that the description didn't fit the story, so I had to go over it again, and I'm putting this out so no one gets confused about it.)

Like last year, chapters will keep coming out on Saturday, though I've been considering releasing them bi-weekly instead to juggle with another story I've got in the works. Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!