So this is the piece I did for the fanzine, BnHA Mirrors! If you are interested in it, check out their tumblr page.
Disclaimer: I do not own My Hero Academia or its characters.
Two men bolt through the iron gate held open by blood-red rust and melted chains, heaving and panting as they run against the limits of their own legs. They flee in terror, blind at their backs for an unseen danger but sure of a pursuing demise as swift as an executioner's axe. Rain has turned the misty hill into slippery, treacherous terrain. The younger and slower of the two loses his footing, landing hard in the mud and dirt. He groans as the breath is knocked from his lungs, tasting grim and moss on his tongue. His companion neither slows nor looks back, disappearing into the mist ahead. For any betrayal he might have felt, it is quickly forgotten through fear as a black arrow sinks into the ground next to his elbow with a violent, reverberating thock. He scrambles to his feet, heels tearing into the earth as the young trespasser retreats over the grassy hillside, away from the looming silhouette of the keep.
A lone figure stands within the mouth of the gate, fading vibrations shivering through the bow in his hand as he watches the men retreat. Lowering the weapon, Tenya reaches a hand up, flipping the visor of his helmet away from his eyes. Only when he can no longer hear their footsteps and frantic shouting does he turn away, returning to the time-worn stone halls of Ironlace Keep. Stringing the bow across one shoulder, Tenya wanders through the large, open courtyard. The grass has long since died away, drowned in the muddy footprints of specters shaped like friends. Tenya kneels next to two soggy lumps of cloth cast under an eave—the intruder's abandoned packs, left behind in their hurry. One is embroidered with a crest depicting a human skull impaled by a golden dagger, a large ruby inlaid in the handle.
"Treasure hunters," Tenya muses. "Of course."
Certainly not the brightest of all the different crooks and bandits he's encountered, but they had guts... for the most part. It had just been Tenya's luck that the older man was superstitious, paranoid, and gullible. He would have laughed, had the notion not also been slightly pathetic.
A quick loot through the bags reveals some interesting items, but nothing of serious value: a bottle of semi-precious pebbles, a journal, tarnished silverware, and a small wooden totem carved into a dragon—probably the work of… dwarves, if Tenya had to guess. Either that, or the Pulvakar nomads, who were known to ride the beasts. Barbarians, his brother had called them. Tenya shrugs, pocketing the trinket. The packs are made with good, tough leather. He can use that, too.
Lugging the packs over his shoulders, Tenya pauses for a moment, scanning the empty courtyard, silent save for the soft sounds of the wind in the tower rafters and water dripping from the eaves. A faraway sound haunts his ears—a faint but persistent humming that never entirely goes away. Shaking his head, Tenya turns away from the sky and steps into the dark halls.
The armory is cold. His breath clouds before him as he enters the stone room. An empty brazier sits on the wall. Tenya could light it for warmth and light, but the shadows serve their purpose by maintaining the illusion that the room is not as empty as it really is. From the small, lonely window past the darkness, glints of light quietly shimmer along the cut edges of three suits of armor lined up against the wall. Besides the armor he's wearing, this is all that remains. A few other scraps of metal are gracelessly piled in the corner. None of them go together. Nothing really seems to go together anymore. He drops the packs beside the scrap metal and closes the door, casting the room into darkness once more. He sighs, a puff of strife blowing from his teeth, and carries on. How sad it is, to have an armory with no armor in it.
Tenya returns to his abruptly interrupted routine, picking up his broom and sweeping the corridor. The sound of twigs scraping against the stones is strikingly loud in the gloomy atmosphere. He likes it that way—the noise of the broom drowns out the humming. He changes the hay in the stables next, though there are no horses, and haven't been for a long time. His sword doesn't really need sharpening, but the vibrations of the whetstone over the steel is soothing in a rough sort of way. The garden has only sprouted weeds and crabgrass for years, but the smell and feel of the freshly tilled dirt is invigorating in his nose and fingers as he digs.
But when it's time to check the barracks in the towers, Tenya's steps slow. A raw, harsh pressure builds somewhere behind his heart. He stands in the middle of the courtyard, chin tilted up, eyes straining against the overcast glare of the white sky above, staring at the dire towers. He used to look upon the four towers as guardians, watchful sentries that protected the paladins. Now, they seem more malignant, wardens to a prison where Tenya is the sole inmate. He shakes his head quickly, trying to rid the dark thoughts from his mind. They are just towers, he's been in all of them countless times. Turning on his heel, Tenya makes his way towards the northwest tower.
The barracks are still and hollow, untouched since that burning night so long ago. The beds are unkempt, blankets and pillows hastily tossed aside by their former occupants. All the discipline and refinement drilled into the paladins, completely forgotten in the unexpected face of struggle and battle. Personal belongings are scattered about: books laid on their pages, stationeries spilling forth now-dry ink, whittle workings dropped into their shavings—small projects the esquires whiled the time away with, projects that would never be finished. To Tenya, it feels like he's invading a tomb, and it's almost too much to bear.
The next two towers take their toll, too. Seeing the scraps of his friends' lives lie scattered and forgotten in the twilight is a punch in the gut. He doesn't touch their things, more out of fear than respect. Their memories are still fresh in his mind, as if he had only spoken to them yesterday. All the yesterdays when he had drilled and sparred against his brethren, feeling himself grow through the light of their companionship. He didn't mind the chill of the mountain, not when the heat of their bonds and trust kept him warm. Those days hurt now, lost like smoke in the wind. The afterimages haunt Tenya, distantly close as a shadow in the corner of his eye. Truthfully, he hasn't kept track of the days since that time. He doesn't want to.
Tenya's feet carry him unwillingly to the last tower on the southwest corner. He stands in the darkness of the hall, seeing the tiny stars of light gleam from the door's metal works. The iron castings around the frame and lattice forms are beautiful, but Tenya can't bear the sight of it—he can't stand to think what might be on the other side.
"Tomorrow," he tells himself, and turns away. Tomorrow he will definitely check the southwest tower. But not today.
When night comes, he retreats to the closet in the hallway beneath the eastern rampart. It's small, cramped, and possibly the coldest room in the entire keep, but it's the only place Tenya feels safe enough to rest. The beds in the barracks look comfortable and warm, but they aren't his. His honor as a Paladin will not allow him to use what doesn't belong to him without permission. He'd slept in his own bunk on the first night of his solitude, but after that long night of sorrow and guilt, cramped in a room with the broken shards of his friends, he isn't willing to do it again. So he resigns himself to that tiny room, barricading the door with a mop. There's some matting on the floor and a frayed flour sack stuffed with straw. The sleeping arrangements are beyond uncomfortable, and some days he swears he hears his own bones creaking within him. He's okay with that, though. He will bear loud bones and metal sores on his skin if it means he might have a full night's sleep.
That usually isn't the case, but Tenya still hopes.
After he triple-checks the security of the door, Tenya procures the little dragon statue from his tunic and places it with the other wares he's collected from "visitors". Among the motley assortment is a timekeeping piece that no longer works, a doll in a white dress, a locket necklace—sealed shut—and a bundle of twigs, twisted to vaguely resemble a knight. Turning the dragon figure to face him, Tenya sits back and takes in the strange gathering. He sighs, feeling the exhaustion of the day fall around his shoulders like a heavy cloak. He reaches up and touches the dragon on the head.
"I welcome you, forgotten one," he says softly. "You'll fit right in."
His helmet, sword, and shield sit next to his head, easily within reach—but these are the only pieces of his armor that he is willing to remove. As Tenya lays back, the flour sack is barely full enough to support his head. The curvature of his backplate won't allow him to lie flat, digging into the gaps between the bones of his neck and lower back. He lets the small fire in the corner burn out, the dim flames consuming the paper he had torn out of the treasure hunters' journal. The embers glow in the eyes of the family of owls roosting above the door. Sometimes, the scratching of their talons wakes him up, when he yells in his sleep and startles them. Rest has become a rare luxury for Tenya; closing his eyes at the end of the day now a gamble with his mind. The humming follows him into his dreams.
He sees fighting and fire. Swords clang sharply, and his brethrens' shouting fills the air of Ironlace Keep. But Tenya isn't fighting—he's searching. Shadows of the enemy are converging on him, but he is too engrossed in his own hunt to notice. He feels like he's running through molasses, limbs heavy and slow. One by one, the figures of the paladins around him disappear, shadows winking out against the smoke and smog of destruction. Tenya finally turns, drawing his sword and standing firm against the legion of hostile shades. He's surrounded, though, and lashing out will do nothing when he knows the battle is already lost.
Before the shadows reach him, somebody calls his name, echoing through the smoke. A hand shoves Tenya hard in the chest, and he falls backwards onto the floor. An enormous bang echoes in front of him and he is cast into darkness, the outline of the closet door illuminated by the fiery-orange light of hellfire.
Tenya wakes up to the first light of dawn. His hands are shaking. His throat is raw.
The southern rampart provides the broadest lookout point. There is only one way to reach Ironlace Keep, a sheer drop and narrow edge guarding its northern face. Of course, that also means there is only one way out. Tenya sharpens sticks into arrows and fletches feathers onto the shafts. He can see the whole courtyard from up here, and walk over to the western rampart to look over the valley, but the mist that drifts down from the higher mountains hides the land below in a ghostly veil. Only on particularly warm days does the air clear and let the warm sun renew the earth. It's the beginning of fall, however, so there will be no rejuvenation in the near future.
A small sound cuts through the mist—the humming—and Tenya's thoughts. He pauses, ears keen and alert for anything; but there is only silence. Reluctantly, he returns back to the knife and wood in his hands. He's hardly knotted one feather when that same noise echoes up the hill once more. Setting his arrows aside, Tenya places his hand on the pommel of his sword. There's another, longer pause, a lulling stillness in the shrouded world. Tenya's ears fill with nothing but the distant howl of wind from the valley and the soft whine of blood rushing through his veins—and the humming. Beyond the mice and the owls, there has never been a lot of wildlife around these parts. Songbirds are few, but not uncommon.
This is definitely not a songbird.
Tenya snaps his head toward the noise, leaning over the rampart, peering through the mist. Time passes, seconds that seem to stretch to eternity. The mist remains undisturbed, but the sound is constant now, and unmistakably human in nature. It's the sound of a pack shifting across a person's back, and there is more than one.
As the figures finally dissolve out of the fog, Tenya spots the curled loop of a mage's staff, twisting a nerve in his gut. He can't see any recognizable weapon on the others. The small band struggles up the soggy hillside, distracted from the looming silhouette of the keep creeping closer with each step. Tenya ducks below the lip of the rampart, collecting his arrows and dashing into the nearby atrium. He has to move quickly if he wants to prepare for his unwelcome guests.
Two men and a woman. The girl is the one with magic, a citizen of the enchanted people of Be'leauvoir by the signature cut of her robes. She looks around the courtyard, brown eyes wide and sharp like a hawk's—but she comes off as harmless. It's the boys that might pose a problem. One is a wild-haired lad, carrying a claymore across his back. The sword is huge and looks ridiculous against the boy's lithe frame. It's difficult to believe that such a slender man could wield such a blade—Tenya knows, though, not to underestimate people. The other boy must be a foreigner. Tenya cannot tell where he might be from, though, since he bears distinctive traits from two nationalities. He's split right down the middle, one half has the iconic pale-hair of the Eunolan people in the west, and the other half displays the icy-blue eye color and red-hair of the Nashat in the north. Even his eyes are different shades. He carries a sword and shield, like Tenya. His face is marred by a burn.
The small group enters Ironlace keep without much ceremony. Tenya watches them from the shadows of the cloister. Through the gloom of the ever-lingering clouds, their footsteps echo with shocking volume across the flagstones of the courtyard. They talk softly to each other as they slowly advance within the keep.
"This definitely seems like the place." The foreigner looks up to the towers, eyes squinting against the backlit sky.
"I'm still not sure about this, Todoroki." The swordsman looks anxious. "Was it wise to take the word of those two men? They didn't seem like the honest type."
The witch manages an uncertain smile. "Don't tell me you're afraid of ghosts, Midoriya."
The swordsman scowls deeper, saying nothing as he casts a weary glance to the scorched stone walls.
Tenya thinks back to the treasure hunters. It's only been a few days since they ran screaming from the keep. This isn't the first time that he's heard visitors refer to him as a ghost—through his endeavors to drive people away, he's developed a bit of a reputation. Sometimes, Tenya wonders if they tell tales about him in the tavern of the nearby village, words of terror and warning for any newcomers or daredevils that may want to test their skills and bravery. But these visitors aren't testing, aren't seeking or hunting or breaking. Tenya feels his core coil as he realizes.
"Adventurers," he groans.
Those souls who were too wild and restless to stay in one place, those people untamed by society's rules, seeking the thrills and dangers of life's greatest challenges. He's dealt with people like this before—people who handle risk and uncertainty for a living. These adventurers are about the same age as him, though, and carry no scars or burdens. They lack the time-worn personage that most marauders gain in their travels. They didn't carry themselves like legends—yet.
But even vagabonds needed to make money. Chances are, they were commissioned by someone to check out the keep.
Tenya huffs and sits back, his well-laid plans withering like leaves in autumn. Sooner or later, they would realize there was nothing strange about Ironlace—apart from it being abandoned—and that whatever they had heard was superstitious nonsense. They would leave, their contract unfulfilled, and move on. Though slightly disappointed, his best course of action is to do nothing. But he needs to keep an eye on them. The last thing Tenya wants is for these strangers to find his skeletons.
"Could we get some light please, Uraraka?" Midoriya asks.
With a flick of her wrist, the mage sparks a ball of flame into life, tongues of purple fire that carry no heat. It hovers just above her palm, illuminating the courtyard. Tenya has heard of witchfire before, but never seen it in person. The girl, Uraraka, immediately becomes his main concern. Kneeling to the ground, the foreigner examines faded gouges in the earth. Tenya leans forward, eyes locking on the crest of the other man's shield. It's a crest that he's not familiar with… but, unless his eyes are deceiving him, part of the crest is emblazoned with a flaming crown encircling a heart. His brother's teachings reverberate through his memories, clear and harsh. A crown of any sort on a crest can only mean one thing: royalty. Tenya's never seen a prince before. He looks… normal.
"There was a battle here," Todoroki declares. "But it's strange that there aren't any corpses."
"Maybe they've all rotted away," Midoriya offers. "This place does seem rather ancient. We may be dealing with an anile wraith."
He's wrong. Not about Ironlace Keep being ancient, but about the corpses. There were no bodies left to decay; it had been a bloodless battle. An echo of clanging swords rings through the corridor behind Tenya. He spins, hand on the grip of his blade. There's nothing there.
"I don't think that's it."
The two men look to the witch, but her eyes are locked on the burned banner still hanging from the ramparts. The sigil on the banner is marred beyond recognition, the blackened cloth fluttering in the slight breeze that runs through the castle. Her eyes are cast far away, head cocked as though trying to listen to something she couldn't quite hear.
"What is it?" Midoriya turns to her, his brow knotted with concern.
"I... I'm not sure yet." She tears her eyes away from the banner. "I can sense trace amounts of magic here, but it's very faint. I think… it might be blood magic."
Midoriya and Todoroki share an uneasy look, their hands finding their weapons. Tenya's skin crawls, too. He doesn't know anything about magic, but he doesn't need to in order to understand that "blood magic" is bad. But… the paladins didn't practice magic. So if it wasn't the paladins, then who…?
"But do you sense any spirits?" Todoroki asks. The witchfire flickers in Uraraka's hand.
"No."
The party stands in a triangle for a minute, wordless and contemplative. Tenya watches, hoping that they will silently decide to leave. Uraraka's eyes stick on something over Midoriya's shoulder, and she moves into the halls of Ironlace Keep. The swordsman and the prince, with some reluctance, follow after her.
Cursing under his breath, Tenya pushes away from the wall and takes the shortcut behind the stables to the upstairs corridor that runs alongside that hall. The humming becomes a buzz.
Tenya dashes from one grate to the next as the adventuring party wanders through the halls. The acoustics are just right, so he doesn't need to be standing right next to them to hear what they're saying, though the iron bars between them make it difficult to see. The purple glow of the witchfire pulses as Uraraka leads the way. The two men behind her are drawn into her stupor, almost bumping into her when she suddenly stops.
The young witch looks around to the dark stone walls and lifeless braziers. "Something terrible did happen here," she mutters. "Todoroki was right about that."
"Can you sense something?" Midoriya's hand hasn't left his claymore.
Shaking her head, the party slows as they approach a door. The prince is the one to test the knob. Locked. They move on without fanfare, but Tenya lingers, peering through the grate. That door leads to the kitchen. The cook, Sir Trevor, had always been protective of his stocks. Tenya and the other esquires used to get into all kinds of shenanigans stealing chocolate or dried meats. They were always caught, but the cook's rough personage was betrayed by a kind heart. Trevor was—no, is a kind man that looks after the younger recruits like sons. Without him, Tenya never would have learned true compassion.
The buzz gets louder.
To catch up to the party, Tenya moves back out to the courtyard via the stairs by the tower. From here, he can stick to the shadows of the eaves and remain out of sight, continuing his watch of the party as they stop at another door. He's barely missed anything. Tenya's always been fast; his brother and the other paladins always said so with varying degrees of admiration and jealousy. Over the years, he has perfected the ability to move quietly despite wearing heavy armor. He never thought that he would use such a skill for spying and espionage.
"Doesn't this place seem a little too … I don't know, clean?" Midoriya mumbles to the party. Todoroki and Uraraka look to him, skeptical. "I mean, there's no rubbish, there's no rats—there's not even cobwebs. If I didn't know any better, I would say that there were people living here."
The prince and the witch, looking around themselves, realize that he has a point. Tenya grimaces, annoyed that his own need for tidiness is working against him. What was he supposed to do, live in squalor? He might be a disgraced esquire, but that doesn't rob him of his dignity. Besides, if the others … no, when the other paladins return, they can come home to a beautiful keep. He will not apologize for his habits, and his guests have long outstayed their welcome.
Tenya, abandoning his initial plan, reaches over and opens the door next to him. A hollow rush fills the corridor, like the keep itself is taking a deep breath, and a thunderous bang explodes from down the hall. The party all but jumps out of their skin. Weapons are in their hands in the blink of an eye. The jewel embedded within Uraraka's staff shimmers like water. The claymore that Midoriya wields with surprising ease gives off a faint, celestial glow. The party rushes off toward the direction of the sound, but Tenya does not rush after them. Reaching two fingers underneath his helmet, he massages his temple, trying to stave off the building headache. The sound of clanging swords from earlier is back, along with the crackle of burning wood.
Something was wrong. Something was about to happen.
Always trust your instincts, his brother had taught him. You know more than you think you do. Right now, Tenya's instincts are telling him to go back to his closet, lock the door, and wait for the intruders to leave. His pride, though, would never allow him to do that. So he sighs, closes the door to the armory that they left open, and follows after them.
He finds the adventuring party investigating a door that leads to the empty casemate, flung open by the back draft Tenya created. There's nothing supernatural about the keep at all, truthfully. Knowing the ins-and-outs of the castle, it didn't take long for Tenya to figure out how to use the quirks of Ironlace to his advantage: open a particular air shaft just the right amount, and the entire structure would echo with ghostly moans. Things like that. All he had to do was set the atmosphere, and let fear and paranoia handle the rest.
"I think it was just this door." Todoroki shuts the door, wincing as the rusted iron hinges shriek in protest. "Nothing else."
"Doors violently throw themselves open all the time, right?" Midoriya grits, his claymore no longer glowing, but still vibrating in its wielder's grip.
"I still can't sense any spirits," Uraraka cups her chin in thought. "If there is something going on here, then it has nothing to do with ghosts."
Todoroki sheaths his saber. "We can't know anything for sure. Let's keep going."
Tenya struggles to keep himself from groaning and slamming his head against the wall as the group continues down the corridor. He watches the purple witchfire dim around the next corner before stepping out of the shadows. Maybe these adventurers were too brave for their own good, but that didn't change the fact that they were inexperienced. Maybe he could use that to his advantage; it was time to take the offensive.
The spiral staircase of the northeast tower is narrow, and unfortunately for the adventurers, not large enough for them to wield their weapons effectively. Tenya beats them to the top barrack, nimbly scrambling across the catwalk from the northwest tower. Climbing on top of one of the bunks, Tenya hoists himself up into the rafters and patiently waits.
The door opens and purple light floods into the room. Tenya can't help himself from hunching against the wall, though he knows he is well hidden in the shadows. His hand twitches on the rope tied off on the wall next to him.
"This is the last room," Midoriya says as he follows the other two into the barrack. "Nothing so far."
The party splits up and starts searching. They find the remnants of his lost comrades, trinkets of the only true ghosts of Ironlace. Uraraka picks up an old book—Sir Hozu's journal—and scans the pages.
"Hey, I think—"
The rope snaps against Tenya's fingers. The cacophony of cracking metal and knocking joints create a wonderful prelude to the dummy in armor that drops into the middle of the party. The rope jerks around the dummy's neck, flinging black pitch from the limbs of the body that splatters across the whole room and its occupants. The witchfire goes out. Tenya perks his ears for the sound of screams and fleeing footsteps.
The room below him is illuminated by a burning light, emanating from Uraraka's staff. The dummy goes stiff, as if gripped by a large, invisible hand. The prince and the swordsman move in sync, one going high while the other goes low. The claymore cuts cleanly through the midsection of the dummy at the same time the saber disconnects the head from the chest. Flashes of fire and fighting jabs painfully behind Tenya's eyes, and he nearly falls from the rafters. Darkness returns as the staff dims. It only takes a couple of seconds for the mage to summon her flame once more, and the three adventurers converge on the mutilated practice dummy.
Tenya's mouth falls open in shock. The buzz in his head rises, deafening.
"Is this … some kind of joke?" Todoroki's voice is tight, on the verge of rage as his sword pokes the torso of the dummy. "Because it's not funny."
"What the hell is going on here!" Tenya can hear Midoriya gritting his teeth in frustration. "Please tell me that this isn't the Ghost of Ironlace Keep? They're not going to pay us for this!"
"Is this mud?" Uraraka mumbles as she wipes a smudge of black from her cheek.
"Where the hell did this thing—"
Another clang from a different door somewhere else in the keep bursting open cuts off the prince before he can finish the thought. The swordsman and the witch both swear as they jump, and all three of them race out of the room to chase after the noise.
Only when the purple light is completely gone does Tenya drop down from the rafters, slowly approaching the fallen mannequin. Nobody had ever fought back before. These adventurers… they really were too brave for their own good. Tenya doesn't realize that he's clenching his fists, or that his body is shaking. He can't think straight with the buzzing in his mind and the fire behind his eyes. All he wants is to be left in peace, to look after Ironlace Keep till the day the paladins return. Yes, they were going to return some day, because if they didn't then that would mean—
That would mean that the other paladins—
That would mean that his brother—
A snarl bursts from his lips as he kicks the dummy's detached head. Why couldn't people just leave them alone? What gave everyone the gall to just waltz into their castle and do whatever they wanted? Take whatever they liked? To attack without reason?
Enough is enough. It was time for Tenya to take matters into his own hands.
He's done sneaking around. Searching through the castle, Tenya's sword and shield are already held before him. He lost track of the intruders when they left the tower, but it didn't take long for him to find them again—standing before the doors to the southwest tower. His heart seizes with terror.
"I think it's coming from here," the mage says. She's anxious as she reaches for the door, like she doesn't want to know what's on the other side, either. "The magic, it's getting stronger …"
The snap of Tenya's visor shutting down over his face rings like a foreboding bell down the hall. The intruders spin towards him. Tenya steps out of the shadows, already low in a fighting stance. The two men draw their weapons once more, but the witch only stares at him, puzzled. She doesn't reach for her staff. Tenya doesn't plan to attack her either—for now.
"So this is the ghost," Todoroki mumbles.
Midoriya looks equal parts scared and angry. "I guess it's not a wraith."
It doesn't escape Tenya's attention that the prince is eyeing the crest on his shield, and it sparks familiarity within him. Good, he thinks. The crest of the Ironlace Paladins will be the last thing these adventurers see. Tenya says nothing as he advances on the group. His heart is pounding loudly in his ears, rivaling the buzzing. He needs to do something to quiet all the noise. Something to make them go away. A roar tears from Tenya's lips as he raises his sword and charges. Uraraka's eyes go wide.
"Wait!" She cries out and grabs Todoroki. But she only has one free hand, and Midoriya ignores her plea.
He rushes forward to meet Tenya, blessed sword glimmering in his hands. The sharp sound that cuts through the air is the first time Tenya's heard swords clash since the night the keep was attacked.
The claymore lands heavily against Tenya's broadsword. His weapon is almost knocked from his hand by the force of the impact. But he's trained to fight many types of foes, and knows to use his shield to support himself. Growling in effort, Tenya shoves the sword back at its wielder, arching his own blade in a deadly strike. Midoriya is quick, though, and knows how to handle his claymore. Using the momentum of the heavy blade, Midoriya twists the sword to arc over and quickly block Tenya's blow. The blades collide so hard, sparks fly. Tenya knows that he can't fight this man for long—his hand is already starting to hurt from gripping his sword so tight—but if there's one thing he remembers from his brother's lessons about combating warriors with two-handed weapons, it's that they can be easily knocked off balance.
Midoriya hefts the claymore over his head with a massive shout. The blessing on the sword begins to glow brighter with golden energy. Tenya knows a finishing blow when he sees one, but the swordsman left himself wide open. Grunting between his teeth, Tenya lifts his shield and lunges. The paladin's shield hits Midoriya square in the chest, knocking him completely off his feet. The claymore skitters across the stone tiles, blessing fading. Midoriya looks up in time to see the shield drop, a broadsword taking its place in a deadly surge towards his chest.
His jab is knocked aside by a saber. Todoroki, having shaken himself from Uraraka's grip, flicks the thin, curved blade up to engage Tenya. He narrows his mismatched eyes at the esquire seconds before the sword snaps at the narrow gap of Tenya's visor. Tenya barely evades in time. With that one move, he can already tell that besting the prince is going to be a much bigger challenge than his companion presented.
The prince fights with the speed of a striking snake, and it's all Tenya can do to move his sword and shield in time to keep the saber from slipping between his armor. As irritating as it is, Tenya is impressed. The prince hasn't even taken up his own shield. Todoroki is clearly highly educated—trained by masters to use his weapon from a young age. But so was he. It doesn't take long for Tenya to see the rhythm of Todoroki's technique. Locking blades with the prince, Tenya grinds his sword down the length of the saber, sharp edges screaming towards the prince's hand. Todoroki breaks the lock, his saber going wide. Tenya's helmet hides the manic smile on his face as he plunges his blade for Todoroki's stomach.
But Tenya has broken his cardinal rule—to never underestimate anyone.
He can almost see it happen in slow motion. Todoroki lets go of his saber, and for a split second the blade hangs in the air as the prince changes his grip from underhand to overhand. His fingers close around the hilt of the saber once more as Tenya realizes that he's about to lose this fight. The saber sweeps through the air towards his helmet, the thin blade glinting with witchfire as it thrusts towards his throat.
But the blade changes direction, and Todoroki brings the force of the saber's pommel down onto Tenya's unprotected sword arm hard. Tenya's hand goes limp, pain exploding through his bones up to his shoulder. The broadsword slips from his fingers. Too stunned to anticipate what comes next, Tenya stands frozen as Todoroki spins on one heel, bringing the other foot up through the air. The heel of the prince's boot connects solidly with the side of Tenya's helmet. Knees giving out beneath him, Tenya crumples to the floor, falling back on his elbows as the world spins around him. When he looks up, the needle point of the saber advances, shining like a reaper's scythe. He freezes, and waits.
He's strangely calm—almost serene. Tenya closes his eyes as the saber comes closer. Maybe now, he and his brethren might finally be reunited.
"Wait! Don't kill him!"
Tenya snaps his eyes open to see Uraraka beside Todoroki, a pleading look in her eyes as she grips his sword arm. Midoriya, winded and recovering, carefully draws air into his shocked lungs. Todoroki doesn't take his eyes off of Tenya, nor does he lower his sword.
"I wasn't going to," the prince mumbles. "But why shouldn't I?"
Uraraka looks to Tenya. Her honey-brown eyes can see straight through him, he realizes. Moving away from Todoroki without answering, Uraraka kneels down next to Tenya. His instincts are screaming at him to run, to fight, to do something—but he doesn't. Uraraka lifts up her free hand toward his face. Fear spikes like a lance through Tenya, audibly sucking in a breath. She pauses at the sound, and her eyes turn soft. The purple witchfire casts her appearance in a lavender shade that Tenya is strangely enchanted by.
"It's okay," she says lowly, moving her hand once again. "I won't hurt you."
She curls her fingers under the edge of Tenya's helmet, the cool pads brushing against his heated skin. Gently, Uraraka lifts the helmet from Tenya's head, revealing his sweaty face and disheveled dark hair for all to see.
"That's … not a ghost," Midoriya grumbles.
The adventurers surround him, not sure what to think. Tenya's mind is racing, but his thoughts are a jumbled, incoherent mess. His vision wavers, crimson webs ringing the edges of his sight. It feels like every fiber of his being is trying to go in a different direction. Heated pressure pulses across his ribs, restricting his breathing. Past the infernos in his gaze, the faces of the adventurers ripple from confusion to shock. The buzzing in his head pours through the cracks of his resolve, his ears stuffed with the rapid beating of his heart and the clanging of swords and the crackle of fire and the screams—
A small hand lays on his bicep, and a warmth that Tenya hasn't felt in a long time floods through his body. The tightness in his chest eases, and he can breathe again. His heart stops pounding, and although the buzzing doesn't completely go away, it fades back to a low hum that he can easily ignore. He feels weightless and free, his burdens cut loose. Closing his eyes, Tenya gasps as the warmth fills him to the brim, and then slowly recedes.
Opening his eyes, Tenya meets the waiting stares of the adventurers. His vision is clear once more, maybe even better than before. The details of the world around him are crystal clear, as if a foggy film has been peeled away from his eyes. Slowly turning his head, he looks to Uraraka. The palm of her hand is still faintly glowing pink with her enchantment. Tenya gapes at her, and for a while, the two simply stare at each other. Todoroki has lowered his sword at last, but still keeps it in a firm grip.
"What—" His own voice chokes in his throat. It's been a long time since he's spoken with something that wasn't an object or an owl. "What did you do?"
Uraraka smiles at him. "That was my Heart Light spell. You like it?"
"I… yes, I like it very much… thank you."
"Who are you?" Tenya looks back up at Todoroki. Midoriya is standing behind him, claymore in his hands once again. They glare down at him, coiled and ready for another attack. "And what was that magic you were using?"
Now it's Tenya's turn to be confused. "Magic? I don't—"
"It wasn't him." Uraraka stands and faces her companions. "Not really. I can't say for sure, but I think … I'm sorry, what's your name?"
"Tenya," he says without thinking. "Tenya Iida."
She smiles at him, welcoming like an old friend. "It's nice to meet you, Tenya. I'm Uraraka."
"I know," he blurts. Her spell seems to have done more than drive his madness away. Uraraka continues with her earlier explanation without pause.
"Do you remember the blood magic that I sensed earlier?" She points a finger back at Tenya. "I'm pretty sure it's coming from him!"
There's a long bout of silence as everyone takes in her words. None of them are more shocked than Tenya. It's not possible. He knows next to nothing about the craft and its disciplines. Magical powers were not suddenly gained, not without intensive training—training Tenya had never even touched.
"I-I have…?" Tenya lays a hand on his breastplate, almost expecting to feel the power through his armor.
Uraraka sees his worry. "Sometimes, when magic is used against its nature, it leaves traces of malevolent energy. These traces can cling to objects and people. So the magic isn't in you, it's more like it's … on you."
"Can you remove these traces?" Midoriya asks. The witch frowns and shakes her head.
"This isn't my specialty, and this blood magic is strong." She looks to Tenya. Her gaze seems almost sad, something grim hidden behind her eyes as she watches him. Uraraka extends her hand to help him up. "All I can do is lessen the effect it has on you for a little while."
"What happened here?" Todoroki cuts in. "The sigil on your shield… I've seen it before."
Tenya contemplates not telling them anything, or making up some extravagant lie that will get them to leave the keep. But he's never been good at lying. His eyes flick between the faces of the adventurers, waiting. They want nothing from him but information—to help him or to hurt him, though, he's still not sure. His brother's lessons can't help him here. Through the amethyst light of Uraraka's witchfire, Tenya feels a kindling of meliorism settle on his shoulders like a familiar blanket. Perhaps, in a strange stroke of fate, the Gods brought these adventurers here for a reason.
"It is the crest of the Ironlace Paladins." Tenya looks down at his shield from where it had slipped off his arm. "For generations, we have protected this land from evil and despair. We were a beacon of hope for many, trusted and reliable. At the height of our power, we were a hundred strong."
"Wait, I've heard of you guys!" It's Midoriya that interrupts, the suspicion in his features turning to wonder. "The Ironlace Paladins are supposed to be the greatest paladin order in all of Ascya."
Tenya, to say the least, is surprised. "We were, once. But not anymore."
"But why?" Uraraka asks.
"Years ago, we were betrayed." The memories rise to the front of his mind like oil on water. "A recruit left the order on bad terms. I was just an attendant at the time, so I didn't know the man or why he was forced to leave. My brother, the commander of Ironlace, never told me. But whatever the reason, that recruit never forgot what happened—and never forgave."
"This is starting to sound familiar," Midoriya mumbles. "Wasn't there a skirmish with some heretics? I live on the other side of this country. When word reached my village, some details had been lost."
"They were more like radicals." Tenya scowls. "And it wasn't a skirmish—it was a siege. That recruit had somehow managed to cultivate a following, poisoning the minds of a few with falsehoods that paladins were corrupted. When their numbers had grown large enough, they—"
Fire flashes behind Tenya's eyes. He's young again, too small for his armor as well as the sword he wields as he runs through the throngs of dueling warriors. He wants to help, wants to fight. But he's scared and he doesn't want to die and if he doesn't find his brother soon—
Tenya sees him. Tensei is locked in a fight with another man. The man's jagged sword crashes against Tensei's broadsword, stained black shield swinging through the air and pushing him back. Wide eyes, shining with pitch and hate, sweep across the battlefield. Tenya freezes as those eyes land on him, a predator sighting its prey. The man stalks towards young Tenya, sword raised to strike. But the blow never comes. The man falls to his knees before Tenya. Tensei stands in his place, his pommel still raised. The man is dazed, but not for long. Tensei grabs ahold of Tenya's arm and bolts away from the enemy, the two of them stumbling through the living forest of swords to try to find safety. Paladins fall to the dark invaders around him, beaten and bound. Glowing cuffs of malevolent magic around their wrists hiss with energy. His brethren scream and cry out, burned through their armor and will. The paladins are losing this fight—but still, the brothers run.
Tensei throws open a door and tosses his younger brother into the small space of the closet. Tenya lands hard on his hands and knees, twisting to meet his brother's stoic, wise gaze. He whispers a word to Tenya, confident and auspicious. The door closes, and Tenya is cast in darkness. The burning orange light of fire outlines the door like a gateway to hell. Tenya throws himself against the wood, but the door refuses to open again, locked or barricaded. All he has are sounds—sounds that grow fainter as the night goes on, and finally dissolve away by the next morning.
"The first scavengers came four days after the battle." Tenya draws his story to a close. "They were the ones to open the door and let me out. They were … startled, I guess, and didn't stick around for long. I've been here ever since."
The heroes are silent as they stare at him, absorbing his tale. Uraraka's purple witchfire waivers as if caught in a gust of wind. But the air is still.
"I'm so sorry," she speaks first. "About your friends."
Her words, although meant to be comforting, make him angry. "No, they weren't killed. They were taken."
"Taken for what?" Midoriya asks.
"I've been asking myself that for years."
"Why have you stayed?" Todoroki frowns at Tenya, lips curled like he's tasted something sour. "Why not leave? Go look for them?"
Tenya doesn't answer right away. He's thought about it; leaving the keep and seeking out his brethren, or perhaps abandoning the order altogether and starting a new life somewhere far away. But then what? He would most likely fail in any attempt to rescue them, or live out the rest of his life in shame and dishonor. Even if Tenya did somehow manage to save his kin, how could he stand before them when he had hidden from the battle like a coward?
To Tenya, it is a fate worse than death.
"Somebody had to protect the keep," He offers as an answer. "Keep everything tidy for when they come back."
It's obvious that none of the adventurers believe him, and Todoroki isn't having it.
"If you're not going to give us answers," the prince says as he draws his saber once more and spins towards the door leading to the southwest tower. "Then we'll find them ourselves."
As Todoroki raises the sword over his head, Tenya's muscles seize in terror.
"No, don't!"
The saber comes down on the handle of the door with a sharp clang. The door jumps open, and Todoroki impatiently pushes his way into the tower, out of reach of Uraraka's light.
"What is it, Tenya?" She turns to him.
Tenya gapes at the open door. He had been avoiding searching that tower for so long, and now…
"That tower," he starts, mouth dry. "Those are my brother's chambers."
Midoriya and Uraraka share a look. Todoroki calls out to them from within the tower, beckoning them to come in. The two adventurers hesitate only for a moment before following him into the tower. Tenya, terrified and aching, follows after them.
His brother's quarters are in disarray. Papers are scattered over the floor and his desk is overturned. Gouges in the floorboards and walls stand out like scars. The bed has been cut open, hay and feathers exposed. There's a dark smear across the blanket. But there's no body, no rotting corpse or any sign that anybody might have been killed in this room. For that, Tenya is extremely relieved. Todoroki is kneeling, inspecting the floor by the dim light of Uraraka's flame. When he stands, he's holding something in his hand—a scrap of cloth.
"Here," the prince says as he holds it out to Tenya. "Does this look familiar?"
Tenya takes the scrap and spreads out the edges. There isn't much, but he can still make out the printed image of a sword with a jagged edge. He hands the scrap back to Todoroki, shaking his head.
"It's the crest of the Order of Stain." Todoroki watches Tenya carefully. "They came out of nowhere a few years ago, and have been gradually gaining power. They have no affiliation with any country or nation. If these are the people that attacked you, then they have bigger plans in the making. The paladins, if they were taken like you said, could be alive, but in danger."
"It's not just them, either," Midoriya says lowly, cupping his chin in his hand as he thinks out loud. "They've been causing trouble everywhere—entire villages have been destroyed by their forces. Kingdoms have tried to oppose them, but they can't be beaten. If they're left unchecked, who knows what they might unleash."
"All the more reason to go have a look. See what's going on." The prince crumples the cloth in his hand and drops it to the floor.
Tenya knows where this conversation is going before it gets there. Uraraka grips his arm once again, her eyes alight with excitement and anticipation.
"You should come with us!" She says, her witchfire flaring brighter. "We could help you find your brother and the other paladins!"
It's a strange feeling, that after all these years the danger of that night is still present in the world. Even stranger still that these adventurers did not dismiss his hopes, didn't try to persuade him that his brethren must be dead. There had been a part of himself, a part he hadn't even known about, that needed that validation. His doubts finally cast aside, however, he is left with only his shame. When he shakes his head, the smile falls from Uraraka's face.
"I can't." Tenya turns away from the adventurers. The hum in his head grows louder.
"Can't or won't?" Todoroki demands. "Do you honestly want to stay here? Waiting for your friends that you don't even know will return? Wasting away in this keep? Or do you want to fight for your brothers? To actually do something to honor what the paladins stand for?"
His words, though harsh, are undeniably true. "This keep is my home."
"The keep wasn't your home, Tenya," Midoriya steps forward, smiling for the first time since entering Ironlace. "The paladins were. Home is not a place, it's the people who make you feel safe. It's wherever you need it to be."
"Join us, Tenya," Uraraka speaks softer now, with more conviction. "Let us help you rescue the paladins. We could do it, if you're willing to try."
A strange sensation settles over Tenya, like the push of a river current. Maybe there wasn't a reason these adventurers came to his keep, no divine intervention or miracle path to converge his fate with theirs. But here they are, ready and willing. He would be a fool to pass up their offer. Tenya squares his shoulders. Todoroki is right—it's time he started taking control of his destiny.
"Alright," Tenya claims, a ghost of a grin on his lips. "Let's do it."
Returning to the armory, Tenya takes one of the packs left by the treasure hunters. Their bags are large and spacious, and the durable leather will keep its contents dry. Though tempted to retrieve some of the trinkets from the barracks and his brother's room, Tenya leaves them be, mementos waiting for their owners to return. His last stop is the closet that has kept him safe for many, countless nights. Tenya is almost sad to leave, packing the few belongings that lay scattered across the floor, but he's made up his mind. On a whim, Tenya puts the tokens he's collected in his bag among the essentials. Something tells him they might come in handy. Finally, with one last goodbye to the owls, Tenya leaves the closet door cracked and makes his way to the gates.
The adventurers are waiting for him there. Before they embark, Tenya takes one final look around the courtyard. So many memories, so many experiences, good and bad, witnessed by the high stone walls and the tall towers. Tenya became who he was within this keep, had found himself among the halls. But Midoriya was right—though the keep may have been a shelter, it was not a home. Tenya's home was elsewhere, and in danger. On his honor as a paladin, he would do whatever it took to free his brethren. So, Tenya hoists the pack onto his shoulders and departs Ironlace Keep. Not ten feet away from the fort and it seems like the mist is already clearing.
"Can I ask you something?" Midoriya falls into step beside him. "What was it your brother said to you?"
Tenya smirks, muscles that he hasn't used for some time, and takes a deep sigh through his nose. Somewhere, Tensei is waiting for him, and it's clear that he's kept his brother long enough. He turns to Midoriya, and for the first time in eons, he feels hope.
"Pervivo."
Midoriya stares, blinks, and blinks again.
"What's that mean?"
Looking up to the sky, Tenya feels warmth on his face as the mist begins to thin, the sun pouring through in thick rays of golden light.
"It means 'live'."
A/N: This story is actually different than the one you will find in the zine. The story that was published had unapproved edits in it as well as spelling and grammatical errors.
I do think it would be fun to make a little mini series out of this, but I won't promise anything. This was a lot of fun to write! The name of the country and nationalities are fictional, made up by yours truly.
As always, read, review, and enjoy!