Yet I feel I am obligated to speak of the ill effects that power brings, so you have all the information possible in order to make the best decision for Etheria in the long-term.
...
That night, Micah levitated, jumping between the bulbous spires of Bright Moon Palace until he reached a balcony at the very top of the enormous structure. Queen Angella stood on the balcony as Micah grabbed hold, climbing over and dropping the levitation spell. Out of breath, he bowed before her, grinning. "Your Majesty."
Angella bent down slightly and kissed him on the cheek. "Hello, Micah," she said softly. "How did this evening go?"
"Terribly," he said, smile enduring. "We met a strange lady typing on a holo-pad, but I didn't have enough evidence to investigate her."
His fianceé smoothed her white skirts, frowning slightly. "I see. And what was her name?"
"I don't know," Micah said, leaning back over the balcony slightly. He'd grown used to heights since perfecting his skills with levitation, and now the ground below didn't seem so overwhelming. "She was mute. Nell knows how to talk to nobles better than me – we handled it fine."
"Did you access the holo-pad, by chance?"
Micah nodded. "She was typing a report explaining what a party was. I don't know why."
Angella's eyes darkened at this news, and she brought a gloved hand to her chin. "That is strange. Who was she explaining it to?"
"Some sort of 'lord,'" Micah sighed. "It was the strangest thing."
"Not if her leader came from another world…which I'm certain Hordak did," Angella said, sighing. "Stars, now we have a dark sorceress to deal with on top of everything else."
Micah crossed his arms, forcing himself not to dwell on recent battles. In the past month alone, the Horde attacked many villages on the edge of the Whispering Woods – Thaymor, Lorayna, Adatha…
Illuras had undergone an attack seven years ago; Micah had been part of the rebellion force, along with Light Spinner. But the lack of attack – or even scouting – in the golden city worried him. What was the Horde planning?
"I'll stop her," Micah said. "I have to."
Angella nodded. "But don't work yourself too hard, Micah...you have two lives. The general, and the man. Do not forget the latter, my love."
Her rosy skin was tinted by blue moonlight, and her long pink hair waved over her shoulders in the gentle breath of the wind. Micah didn't care that she was immortal – he loved her. Whereas she was drawn to the scrappy, funny man who'd grown up a pauper on the shores of Tropicilas, he found her quiet elegance to be irresistible.
Micah inched closer to her, kissing her. Angella's skin always smelled of jasmine; her lips were warm against his. When he had first met her as a young teenager, he never dreamed he would end up as her fiancé once he became an adult.
Some people are worth growing up for, he thought, mind lost in bliss.
...
Carmen sat on the floor, brushing Catra's hair. Felinetta fur was right difficult to groom, and her daughter's caterwauling hurt Carmen's overly sensitive ears. It was all she could do not to cringe, to cover her ears till the din subsided.
But by golly, she loved her kit. Catra was a miracle child, with a stillborn twin; Carmen had named her sibling Salam. Peace. She never knew the baby's sex – felinettas had to develop for a little longer after birth before one could tell. The name was all Carmen had of the other kit. That, and her baby Catra. The merciful gift from Raiya in the midst of that hellish year.
She finished brushing Catra's hair and tucked the kit into her crib, wondering how long it'd be before Catra stopped screaming at everything. Carmen wouldn't complain – she loved her baby – but between her screaming and Li'l Miss Adora's, it was a wonder she wasn't deaf yet.
Shads entered the room, exhausted, and took Adora from her crib. The human baby cooed softly as she was reunited with her mama, and Shads lay on her bed, Adora's chubby little body on her breast. They always shared a bed; Carmen couldn't fathom how one did that, what with the threat of screamin' next to her ears. Raiya forbid!
She cleared her throat, walking over and sitting on a stool. "How was it?"
"Disgusting," Shads said bluntly, patting Adora's bum. "Carmen…tell me a story. Please."
"A story?" Carmen echoed. "Well...I don't read much, my lady."
"You have a holy book," Shads said. "Don't those have interesting tales?"
"I ain't allowed to read it," Carmen said. "It's prideful."
"Then how will you know the truth?"
"The priests tell me, my lady."
"And what if they lie?"
"They'll stand before Raiya for that," Carmen said with a shrug. "My lady, with respect, I know you're an atheist. Would'ja please respect my faith?"
Shads was quiet for a moment. Carmen winced; she had no right to demand respect from her masters. Adora stuck her meaty fist in her mouth as Carmen's lady shrugged. "Very well. Tell me about the creation of the world."
Carmen swallowed. "A'ight. So at the beginning, there was this big ol' god named Raiya."
"Rhea?"
"Rye-a," Carmen said, saying the word slowly. "He's all-knowin', all-lovin', all-powerful…"
"Religious scholars call those the omni attributes," Shads murmured, closing her eyes. "Go on."
Carmen nodded. "Long time ago, he created lots'f different races on this planet. Kryteya's its namesake, but we've never been able to dig up what the actual place was called." She frowned. "But then...there was a war."
Shads perked up; Carmen loved when her lady showed interest in things, rather than the sad apathy that seemed to radiate off of her. Carmen swallowed. "Most'f us sided with the enemy, y'see. As punishment, Raiya said we had to become his auto...auto…"
Damnit. Don't know the word in Kriesges. "Robots," she tried. "We couldn't think, couldn't have free will, couldn't feel. One of our leaders, the Intercessor, went an' talked to him. Said we would willingly subject ourselves to servitude, in hopes'f escapin' the fate'f losin' yourself."
"How...sickening," Shads murmured. "And you believe Raiya is good?"
"'Course," Carmen said. "We disobeyed." Clearing her throat, she shifted on the stool. "But the Intercessor broke the deal. He took about five thousand'f us to Etheria. Raiya destroyed our planet, renderin' millions'f people dead…" She bit her lip. "And then the stars burned out. We saw what happened to our home. We saw, an' we changed. The Kitab Al'aqdas is our book – we obey it, live by it. And pray Raiya's anger won't find us."
A moment of silence. "That's dreadful," Shads murmured. "I love it."
"Whatcha mean?"
"Religions always have the most interesting fairy-tales," she explained. "The Seraphites have many of their own." A chuckle. "Thank you, Carmen. You may retire."
Carmen nodded, although she wasn't sure why her lady discounted the Kryteyan stories. It was only natural – karma was how the world worked. Carmen had hidden her womanhood from her previous master. A master whom she'd thought loved her. 'Cause of that, Jibril had forcefully – terribly – deflowered her in his own cell.
How else could Carmen make sense of the world? If she had been better, it wouldn't have happened. It was freeing, in a way, to know that she had control over her circumstances. That way, she could ensure they didn't trap her again.
She lay on her cot, curling up on her stomach and dozing off with this in mind.
...
The story I seek to tell is about a foolish young woman. You may think that she was a simpleton for pursuing power. Indeed, that is an aspect of this tragic tale of naïveté.
...
Micah was barely awake in his tent the next day when Zeka's voice reached his ears. "Micah! Darling, you must join me – the Horde has attacked Thaymor!"
Micah shot up, mentally picturing the town of happy Vernish immigrants near the eastern border. How did they get past the Whispering Woods? It recognizes dark intent! Sighing, he threw on the right clothes, stuffed a mint leaf in his mouth, then chewed on it as he met Zeka outside.
The shifter, as usual, was dolled up in her usual body – that of a tanned young woman with thick brown curls and green eyes. Her war uniform did not mesh well with her two pounds of makeup – not that Micah cared. They had other things to attend to.
It was too far to get to Thaymor through teleportation – Micah could transport across the city, but that was the extent of his abilities – so they had to use a mirror. Luckily, one was stuck in the ground not too far from here. Micah took his sorcerer's staff and grabbed Zeka's hand. "Take us to Thaymor."
The mirror obeyed, shimmering and allowing them through. Micah, keeping a hold on Zeka's hand, stepped into the In-Between. He would never get used to the cramping pressure surrounding him on all sides in the mirror; he dared not look back to see how Zeka fared. However, he had gotten better at the method of travel. The first time he'd tried, he'd gotten stuck, and almost suffocated before Light Spinner rushed in to save him.
A pang of sorrow accompanied her name.
Micah, how could you?
Tears were streaming down her face. Tears mixed with blood, her bedraggled hair crusting with sticky liquid after the Spell. All because of him.
Micah blocked out the thoughts. It seemed that he was most vulnerable to distraction when he was in danger. Steady, now, he thought, biting his lip and nearing the white window to exit. He stepped out of the In-Between, pulling Zeka along with him. When Micah turned around to survey the wreckage, he gasped. The Horde was already here. And they were burning the city.
The village of satyrs, normally peaceful, was in shambles. Black smoke strangled the area, and the bright flags and shops were ablaze with fire. Micah had to stop the torchers before they hurt anyone else. There were no other options.
Micah had taught himself how to fight with sorcery; Light Spinner had been good at her job when they defended Illuras seven years ago, but she was far less powerful than he was. People told Micah he was a living weapon, more of a force of nature than a mere source of manpower.
So, he lived up to that title. Propelling himself forward with a flare of levitation, Micah's boots crashed into a Horde soldier's helmet. The man toppled backward, stunned, as Micah struck with his staff. A blast of evocation magic shattered his foe's helmet, slicing glass into his eyes.
He would live; that was how Micah found the strength to hurt the soldiers, who – for the most part – had not joined the Horde willingly. As he turned to the others, he clenched his teeth. It's time.
With a blinding mess of levitation spells, Micah soared through the air, turning their attention onto him. He flung a push toward the soldiers, intending to slam them against the other building. But instead, he was yanked back as though by an invisible string.
Micah collided into the opposite wall; the impact knocked the wind out of him. Gasping for air, he registered what had happened: he had been flung back. Had another sorcerer dealt him a blow just before he pushed?
He shook his head. I'll try a different route. Micah grabbed a rather large tree branch with kinesis magic – the power wasn't limitless, but one could lift up to twice their own weight – and accomplished the same purpose, driving the soldiers back.
"Micah, dear!" Zeka called from the roof. "I did a scouting trip, and there are no more soldiers around here."
"How's that possible?" Micah asked, taking a rough estimate of those trapped by the tree branch. Thirty. Gazing around the wreckage – buildings burning, seared grass, the Thaymorese safe beneath the village – he frowned. How had the Horde managed to do so much damage with such a tiny crew?
Of course, he knew the answer. Pacifism was a highly-respected mindset on Etheria. Micah had shared that philosophy, once. But he'd been a direct victim of the Horde's attacks twice. He couldn't afford pacifism anymore.
He sighed. "Put out the fires," he ordered Zeka. Going over to the soldiers, Micah cast a magic prison around them – a semicircle, something they couldn't escape unless they were skilled enough to hack protection spells. He would get the rest of his crew out here soon to strip them of armor and send them to Dryl for interrogation.
What are they planning? Micah wondered, picking up a rock and absently running his fingers over it. But as he pondered this, his eyes caught a dark silhouette moving through the Whispering Woods.
Micah dropped the rock and dove into the Woods, riding a kinesis spell.
Micah darted into the thicket, strange feelings in his gut. He didn't know why he was following the shadow – it simply seemed like the right thing to do at the moment. He pushed off of several violet-leafed trees, giving him height as an advantage.
The shadow chased him in circles. Just when Micah thought he had it, it bounded away from him. The Whispering Woods were said to harbor ancient creatures, intelligent animals that could communicate with the sentient species through magic. Micah wasn't sure how many of those stories he believed, but one thing was for certain: the Woods were magical. And they were difficult to cross if one was a being of darkness.
He flitted off a vine, swinging until he had enough momentum to careen into the shadow, but it teleported away before he could reach it. Micah crashed onto the ground and gasped, out of breath. His sweaty hair stuck to his neck, and sparks swam in his vision. The shadow had given a good chase.
Hissing sounded behind him. Rattlesnake, the pauper inside him thought with dread. His father had been bitten once and almost died. The key was not to antagonize it, not to make it more inclined to strike…
Micah turned around slowly, but there was no snake. Instead, a woman stood about ten feet behind him, cloaked in streams of darkness. She wore a dark pink uniform with a flowing skirt, her boots reaching to her knees. Walking with a stately demeanor, the soldier watched him curiously...with the same mask he'd seen at the dinner party.
Micah gazed down at her feet. With each step she took, the grass died in a foot-wide radius.
"It's you," Micah whispered, panting. The figure studied him. Her ebony hair billowed around her head, and one of her pointed ears twitched slightly.
Micah swallowed, coughing; his mouth was as dry as a desert. The masked woman tilted her head. Then, to his surprise, she began to walk toward him.
Shadow Weaver watched Micah stiffen as she drew close, pulling out her own canteen. She'd come into the woods to refill it in one of the streams. Not only was the water cold, crisp, and clear – but it tasted slightly sweet from the sheer amount of magic flowing through it.
Micah looked at her suspiciously. Perhaps it was warranted – Shadow Weaver's apparel wasn't exactly welcoming, and surely he recognized the cold, sleepy touch of dark magic. She pressed her canteen to his lips, and shocked, he drank. "Thank you," he croaked, then took the canteen and squeezed water into his mouth.
Shadow Weaver said nothing, studying him. She had come here to toy with him, yes – to see how his skills were, chasing a sorceress. She felt a grim satisfaction that she'd managed to tire Micah out. Talent was one thing; experience was another. And Shadow Weaver's strength exceeded Micah's in this regard.
The young king-to-be handed her the empty canteen, water running off his beard. Shadow Weaver pocketed it; she could find more water. Micah frowned at her Horde badge. "Why did you help me? You saw what I did to your soldiers."
Shadow Weaver didn't answer. How could she? She had sworn to keep her identity a secret from Micah for his own protection. You were thirsty, my dear. Isn't that reason enough?
Micah sighed. "Why am I talking to you? You can't even reply to me." As he stood, Shadow Weaver stayed immobile, trying to appear relaxed. The best way to ensure that your enemy underestimated you was to put him at ease.
She learned that long ago, when she had gotten Norwyn to leave her for the last time.
Shadow Weaver snapped, getting Micah's attention and nodding her head in respect. Then she teleported away, leaving him alone in the woods.
...
Did you know...
- Originally, Carmen and Shadow Weaver had a tenser relationship. However, given that I didn't want to make the conflict seem contrived and boring, I cut this and replaced it with something better. Keep reading to find out what it is.
- I had a tough time figuring out where to place Micah and Angella's relationship, but ultimately decided to place it at "engaged", even though Micah is very young when this is taking place. I aim to portray him as someone who "grew up too fast", so I think it still works, even if it wouldn't be ideal in real life to marry so young.
- This chapter title has existed since the first draft of Starwalker. I just love the idea of a young, scared ruler having a mysterious and morally ambiguous ally in the midst of it all.
Tell me what you think...
- What stands out to you about Kryteya?
- Do you think Shadow Weaver's attitude toward Micah will remain? Why or why not?