#the one that i saved from malice in the snowy mountain

[callilouv]

god, a botw vid just came up on my yt recc and suddenly i am taken back to when id spend hours on the game just doing quests, runnning around, and enjoying everything,,,,,,,,

[pop-goes-the-sneasel]

froslass please!

Froslass!!!!!! The Snow Land Pokemon!

An Ice/Ghost-type and a branching evolution of Snorunt, Froslass is absolutely lovely. It’s based on the Yuki-onna, a well-known and frequently-dangerous youkai that appears as a woman in a white kimono on snowy nights that does things like freezing people to death and taking the livers out of children. There’s lots of differing accounts, though, and I suggest reading the Wikipedia article on them if you wanna know more! I feel Froslass captures the vibes of them perfectly, both aesthetically and in its dex entries.

The conceptual idea behind Froslass is that a woman once died on a snowy mountain, with her regretful soul then possessing an icicle and forming Froslass. As with many Ghost-types, the veracity of this is somewhat questionable, particularly given it evolves from the non-ghostly Snorunt – but it’s an incredibly neat idea nonetheless. It freezes pokemon and humans it’s fond of, then displays their frozen bodies in its den, with a particular focus on handsome men. It also eats frozen souls, apparently, though I’m not sure how one freezes a soul. Its most common victims are hikers, though on nights of particularly severe blizzards, it’s also known to come down to human settlements – with the dex warning not to open your door if it knocks. It’s all very cool, and a lot of it seems derived from actual Yuki-onna legends! We actually see one example of its behaviour in the Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers games, with a famous Scizor explorer having been frozen in ice by a Froslass for decades before being saved by the protagonist’s team.

Anyway!!!! The design! Froslass seems humanoid at first glance, but like Glalie, it’s actually mostly just a head. What appears to be its body is nothing more than a hollow appendage, and its sleeve-like arms connect directly to its head like hair. The “mask” of ice it wears subtly evokes a skull, and its expression has a slight hint of malice that seems appropriate for such a dangerous pokemon. Being based on Yuki-onna, its shape is also clearly intended to evoke a kimono, which it does quite well – it’s anatomically odd, yet still feels quite natural overall. The red band around its center, resembling an obi, is the only part that doesn’t really “match”, but it’s also some pleasant contrast.

The shiny is overall the same, with a slightly different shade of blue and a soft fuchsia band instead of red. Although it’s not a dramatic shift, it actually looks much nicer, integrating the band much better into the design due to the consistent cool tones throughout. Normally I’m not a fan of shinies that barely change anything, but such a subtle change actually goes a long way here, and Froslass is actually one of my favourite shinies as a result!

But yeah, I positively adore Froslass. It’s kinda tied with Sneasel itself as my favourite Ice-type. It’s a rare case of a pokemon that seems actively dangerous – most pokemon, despite being clearly formidable, usually aren’t characterised as a direct threat to people’s livelihoods. The fact it displays its victims adds an additional dash of macabre, and I really can’t get enough of this spooky ice lady.

Would feed my soul to/10.

[dacreshoney]

vikings series 1 part 1

so this will be the first part of the vikings series list I am creating, I will go into a little summery about the character in which will have a name but I can also include Y/N imagines /alongisdebeside the characters name. 

warning: introduction, may be some swearing

(I do not own images/gifs or condone any violent behaviours)

intro more than anything this part

800 A.D 

summary: you are the Norse goddess Freya the daughter of the Great Norse god Njord of the wind wand waters and sister to Freyr/Yngvi the god of peace, fertility and rain. Freyja is the goddess of love, warfare, sex, fertility, death, beauty, magic, and witchcraft which has brought you many troubles in your life, you took form as your human self and lived among humans in which your father did not approve. You set your sights on Scandinavia, on a certain family, the Lothbrok family, you had foreseen in a vision with Frigg that this family would need your help in either saving the world or destroying it. You had grew close to Ragnar in his younger days, even his wife Lagertha adored you along with his brother Rollo, though it never took them long to believe you were the goddess freya. You would often come and go from their lives, watching over them. You made it clear you could not stay long, you overdid that already. your place was in Asgard, that was until you saw another fate beside the one where you would protect the lothbrok��s, this one would tie your destiny with one of Ragnar Lothbrok’s children, Ivar the Boneless. You were to be his saviour or you would join him on his bloody reign. Only time and the gods would tell what both of your fates would be. 

freya art: below

series 1 part one: an old and dear friend. 

you had foreseen another vision, you practiced magic and witchcraft often with Frigg, who was depicted as a Volva/seidr as well as yourself, this time the vision was dark and empty. Something was wrong, you felt desolate. The vision had foretold that Ragnar Lothbrok was dying o the would die by the hands of someone close to him, Frigg had foresaw a vision with his wife Aslaug plotting behind Ragnar's back with the seidr in Kattegat. 

“she plots, she wonders if there will ever be a woman ruler of Kattegat�� Frigg implied, her hands over your Brisingamen necklace and a golden cauldron, your blood boils at the thought of Aslaug betraying someone you love so dearly, how could she turn her back on him after everything he has done for her you thought to yourself. 

“how dare she, she will never rule over Kattegat, over my dead body will I ever let her get her hands on everything Ragnar has achieved” you raised your voice in anger, turning harshly on your heal to look over at the rainbow bridge of Asgard, placing your hands on the railings, grasping so tightly you could easily break them. Frigg walked over to you, placing her hand on your shoulder, her fair touch easing you ever so slightly as she turned you to face her she spoke softly, “ there will be a woman rule one day over Kattegat, but it won't be Aslaug, that you will have to wait and see my dear one” 

“ I don’t see your fascination in these viking mutts freya, surely you could just kill them all and all your sorrows would be dealt with, or I could help you slaughter them all” Tyr followed, laughing, he was the god of war and a halfwit at that, he had no emotion or care for anyone other than himself. you edged away from Frigg aiming your sights at Tyr, raising your fist to grab his throat. “one more word from you tyr and I'm shoving the seat golden spear of your up your giant a ss ho...” Frigg interrupted, “now freya, now is not the time, you know where you need to go” 

You knew what you had to do, it was time to go back to Kattegat, a place you said to yourself you would never go back to, you told yourself you would watch and protect from afar to abide by your fathers rules and to conceal your feelings deep inside. But there was always something that would draw you back, back to them. you nodded your head to Frigg and a beam of light shown around your whole body as you teleported to Kattegat. 

As you overlooked on top of the snowy mountains of Kattegat, taking in that icy fresh air you so missed into your lungs, you set your sights on the great hall of Kattegat in the far distance. Using your sight see what was going off and where everyone was, but Ragnar was not there. Then you spotted Björn, a man now, tying your dearest Floki to a wooden pole. Speeding down to the front of the harbour at 100 miles an hour, you headed to the flock of people surrounding the Floki, throwing rocks at him. You made your way through the crowd, barging your way to the front, picking up a rock fro the floor, your eyes catching Floki and Björn’s who stood their in shock as you spoke jokingly,

“my dear Floki, what have you done now” you teased, playing with the dirty rock in your hand as Björn walked your way, embracing you in a hug, shooing off the crowd of people. “freya, my god, how I've missed you” Bjorn laughed as his arms wrapped themselves around you, then turning round to Floki, “and him, your dear friend has murdered a christian man out of malice” you laughed at Bjorn as you went to unchain Floki and spoke “a christian man I say, surely you could of dealt with this privately Bjorn, what would your mother say” you winked , helping Floki out of his chains as he embraced you also. 

“my mother, would be proud of me, for being a man” Bjorn answered back

“there are other ways to prove your a man bjorn and what would you father say, hmm, did he approve of this?” you questioned, walking towards Bjorn, heading towards the great hall. 

“no, he does not know, but I do not need my fathers approval freya” Bjorn spouted off in a huff as he followed you. 

You continued to laugh at Bjorn, making a joke out of the situation. Heading into the great hall, everyones eyes turned to you, pacing their eyes up and down at your beauty, Aslaug forcing a smile on her face at your presence, beside her 4 boys you had not seen before in person, but visions. Bjorn was about to speak up and announce your name, but you stopped him, one rule in Asgard was to not let your presence know so often, in which you had already broken that rule a long time ago, you preferred to keep it on the download this time. your gorgeous strawberry blonde locks blustering softly in the winter winds at the doors as you entered, those piercing golden eyes scouring the room, until you found those beautiful blue eyes of a man, well a man to you, a cripple to others, you locked his eyes as he crawled beside his mother Aslaug, mesmerised by your beauty. Bjorn, Floki and yourself headed towards where aslaug was sat on her thrown, you tried to keep your anger inside after foreseeing her thoughts. You stood proudly informant of her, your posture proud. At least you both could agree on something, you both were not happy to see each other in the slightest.

“Aslaug.. pleasure to see you again, and with sons, Ragnar must be so proud and.. happy, where is he may I ask” you spoke plainly, still never leaving her gaze, placing yourself on another seat beside Bjorn and Floki. She sneaked at you, knowing you'd know exactly what she was thinking, she tried her best to block you out, it never worked. 

“pleasures mine, freya.. and yes, he is proud, legitimate male heirs to the Lothbrok throne.. and as for Ragnar he is out, I'm sorry you missed him” she said sarcastically, digging at Bjorn and yourself. The other sons of Ragnar, questioning who this freya was, eyeing up each other still, looking for answers from their mothers face, Ivar’s sky blue eyes still never leaving your face. 

“no matter, I am here to stay for a while, I hope you don’t mind, myself and Ragnar have some things to attend to, I am sure you won't keep him from me for too long” you forced a smile, aiming for a reaction, she was good. Before she could answer, a familiar step headed towards you, you could smell his scent from miles away, that familiar scent you familiarised with home and family. 

“hello old friend, been a while” Ragnar spoke happily as you turned to face him, eyes beaming with joy to see him okay and alive, you embraced each other, aslaug jealousy was very much on show for everyone to see. 

[creators-novel]

Back at their home, Red and Koto were taking it easy. Straus was a little late getting back but they didn’t worry about it too much since they knew if it were an emergency, they would have known about it by now. Until Koto felt a stinging sensation within her very soul, the same that alerted her to Synthis’ presence. “Ow-...”, she looks around at the Worlds and everything seems ok, “That’s…odd.”

“Koto?”, asks Red.

Koto grips her shirt and looks scared, “…Red, please look after everyone. I think Straus in is trouble!”

“Wait what-?! Um- ok-! … (…he’s lucky to have family like her around…)”

“I’ll be back soon!”, Koto summons a portal leading in the direction Straus went, “Let’s see…I guess if these jolts get worse, I’ll know I’m going in the right direction.”

           Koto can’t help but feel a weird sense of nostalgia, finding her way around the Multiverse looking for Straus reminded her of her mission to make it back to her original home. During her time with Straus, the two have made attempts at finding it, but they either get lost or get tired from traveling too far and have to go back. Before she has time to dwell on it all, she feels another sharp pain in her chest, more intense than before. “Gh-! I must be getting warmer. His last location must be right under my- “, she trips on a World Orb that was on the ground, “OOF-…nose.”

           Meanwhile, from atop the mountain, two cloaked figures watch as Straus flies over the city, causing destruction in his wake. The promise to himself to never kill didn’t matter right now, he felt as though this was right. He was avenging not only his mother but the life he lost due to the humans’ malice. The figures see Koto land on another part of the mountain. “Ah…there she is…”

“Do you think she alone can help him?”

“…I might have to step in…that poor child…”

           “This place seems interesting…”, Koto ponders. She looks up to see a winged monster terrorizing the city below, “That must be what’s attacking Straus!” The fiend charges and fires a laser from its mouth, shaking the ground. As Koto catches her balance, one of the cloaked figures appears next to her.

“Er- hi there? Have you seen my brother?”

The cloaked individual points towards the winged beast.

“Huh-? I know the fellow up there has to be stopped but I’m here on a rescue mission so- “, upon closer inspection, she realizes that the person causing all of this chaos is the person she came to save. “…Straus? No- No he wouldn’t do something like this!!”, in a panic, Koto takes off running down the mountainside with the person in the cloak trailing close behind. The person speaks, “There may be things you don’t understand right now, but this is our home.” Koto skids to a halt as the other person continues to run, “…Our? What is going on today!?”

           Straus continues to bring havoc upon the human city. Firing barrages of magic and striking down anyone who tries to take a shot at him. The humans meanwhile are in a state of panic. Most white-souled people were dead or in hiding these days; they also didn’t know they could grow to be this powerful. In their minds, this was the whole reason they wanted them dead in the first place. Such a danger to their society should be put down, right? Why try to assimilate them or welcome them when they could pose a serious threat? Who cares if they’re innocent bystanders when any one of them could have become this powerful? What they did was right.

To them anyway.

           When humans are threatened, they don’t care what lengths they have to go to feel safe again. Even if that means killing their own kind. The white-souled people, the Devils, they were people too. They cried out for security and justice and just an ounce of safety in this cruel World they were born into.

But humans

Never

Listen.

           “Is this what you were afraid of all along? Or is this what you all deserved?”, Straus looms over the city and starts to charge one final attack. Suddenly, the hooded figure reaches his position. She ran so fast that a gust of wind followed her and almost blew Straus out of the sky. Straus shakes his head as he regains balance, “mmf- who…?” Koto catches up and calls out to him, “STRAUS!”

He backs away from the two, “G-…go away…! I’m…doing justice…!”

The hooded figure calls out, “What you’re doing is a massacre! Please calm down and we can talk this out.”

Straus gets defensive, “No!”

“Hurting these people won’t change how they about your people, Straus. And killing them isn’t going to help your mental state. You’ve learned that lesson, haven’t you?”

“They MURDERED me! You don’t know anything about this place!”, Straus charges at the figure but in a swift motion, she catches his hands, disabling his weapons. The figure’s hood falls, revealing a woman with long, white hair. Straus tries to continue fighting but she pulls him in and hugs him. “Gh-! Let me go! Let me g-“, at that moment, his Devil form deactivates; but instead of raven black hair, it returns to a snowy white.

“Easy now…it’ll be ok…”

Straus feels the gentle embrace as if he knows this comforting presence. For him and the woman, one last memory comes to light.

           A mother is helping her son get home from school. The son is holding an action figure of a cyborg and the mother has a bandage around her leg. She narrowly avoided an encounter with humans on the way to pick him up, but not without a few scratches.

“But, Mom! What if one day they get you!? I wanna know how to help you!”

The mother pulls her son into a gentle hug, “Easy now…it’ll be ok…”

           Straus is overwhelmed with sadness, “…wh-…what in the Multiverse is this…?”

The woman looks at Straus with newfound recognition and tears in her eyes.

“…Hello again, my son.”

“Mom...? But you-“

“I know…I thought the same thing about you. But I guess miracles do exist, right?”

“This life…it wasn’t fair…”, Straus holds on tight to his mother as he too begins to cry.

“I know…I know…”, she smiles at Koto, “But it looks like you had some friends to help you out.”

“She’s more than a friend to me. Right sis?”

Koto smiles and nods, “Right!”

Straus hides his face, “I’ve missed you…I didn’t think I’d ever see you again after what this World did to us…”

His mother holds him close, “I kept holding onto the hope that I’d see you again…and here you are!”

           While this touching reunion was happening, any surviving humans began to close in around the small family.

“Disgusting…”

“What a hideous display…!”

“…No monster deserves redemption, especially this one!”

“We should KILL them while their guards are down!”

           Koto didn’t quite understand what happened to Straus and his mother, but at that moment it didn’t matter; her instinct to protect her family kicked in. Her Supernova form flares up for a moment as she casts a barrier and shouts, “GO AWAY!” The humans back up a few paces, having never witnessed something like that before. “We should leave now.”, says Straus, “I think this place is toxic to us…” “Right!”, says Koto as she opens a portal home. “By the way Mah- er- ma’am, may I ask your name?” Straus’ mom chuckles, “Of course, dear. My name is Pandora.”

           Pandora and Koto step through the portal together. Straus takes one more look at his HomeWorld and the people living in it. He points to his eyes then points back at all of the people.

“…Filthy humans.”

He then jumps through the portal back to the safety of his Space.

[seawatersavior]

Roma - Enchanted Tailor

If you were to count Roma in the order of who joined the SV Mercenaries first, she should of had the #1 spot. However she reluctantly takes the #3 spot. Roma met Titus when she was still part of her original clan, she was a noble with only one task, produce heirs to establish diplomatic relations. Her husband was stern, cold and distant. She lived the majority of her life hidden away in a silver pagoda, deep in the castle grounds, far from where anyone could reach her. She was banned from leaving and could only step out of her prison at night, when the guards weren't watching her. They weren't there to keep anyone out, just to keep her in. At night she would sit in her window looking over the palace walls into the dark forest that lay beyond. She would do this until one day, a pair of eyes would stare back.

Roma was a little stunned, she clearly noticed a pair of eyes, but she only saw them for an instant. After waiting and watching, she did not see them again. She would continue to watch every night, a little excitement would do her good, and so she never let her husband know. Winter was fast approaching, and as the trees began to loose their leaves Roma became discouraged. With no foliage she couldn't pretend like that creature was still there, the white snow made it clear that nothing was there. She sighed and went to close her window when she caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye. She snapped to look but there was nothing. But she knew she saw it! She wanted to find it!

Roma wanted this more than anything, and without thinking jumped out on the edge of the window, while the pagoda stood higher up, there was a few ledges that protruded outwards. She shimmied closer to the edge, gripping the hem of her night gown in one hand and the wall with the other. And then she fell.

The ice beneath her feet had given out, try as she might she couldn't revert to dragon form to spread her wings. Her tears lingered in the air as she fell, was this it? Is this how she would die? Before she had the chance to scream, she felt a pair of hands wrap around her and they crashed onto an open room. She lay stunned on the floor, the air had been knocked out of her. She looked over at the person lying next to her, he was a mess of blue hair, rather thin and seemingly just as winded from the fall. The sound of foot steps rang out as the guards were alerted to the noise. Upon hearing their clamoring the boy shot up, he was young and lithe in appearance, his face covered in hair but unable to hide the secrets his right eye contained. That eye was dark. Dark lines spread on his face, all spreading from that point. She couldn't discern much more as he ran and jumped out the window into the snowy storm.

The guards burst in and found her laying there, instead of asking if she was alright they picked her up and tossed her over their shoulder. "She finally tried to escape!" they laughed heartily as they threw her back into her room. "Don't try that again little lady, the lord instructed us to kill you if you ever make the attempt to escape, consider this your last warning." She lay there on the floor, at least the floor was padded with many rugs, so she didn't hit it too hard. But she was certain she saw her curtains shift. She pushed herself up, arms weak and cold but the warmth of her room was beginning to thaw her. She had curtains, tapestries, quilts and throws scattered all through out her room. She walked over to her pile of blankets and gave it a poke.

A quiet, but started "ow!" rang out when she met something in there. She yanked off the top blanket to uncover the young man from before withing. He was covering his eye in pain, whoops.

"Ah I'm sorry!" she exclaimed as she sat down next to him and patted his back. "Are you OK? You're barely wearing anything and it was terribly cold out there."

The boy retreated into the pile and smiled, "Well these blankets of yours are pretty soft, so I hope you don't mind the company. I am in fact freezing," he reached out a hand in greeting and said, "my name is Titus, I've always wanted to meet you after seeing you peek from your tower."

Roma smiled sheepishly, "So I wasn't insane, I knew I saw something peeking through the canopy." The pleasant thought energized her and she stood. "Lets dress you up I can't have you freezing on me." She walked over to her closet and pulled out a trunk hidden within a mountain of linens. "I may be a useless trophy wife, but he can't stop me from sewing!"

The boy shimmied over in what can only be called a blanket burrito. When she opened the trunk a little gasp escaped his lips. "Did you make these?" There was an assortment of apparel of varying sizes and shapes, for children, for adults, for something remarkably tiny. She pulled out some varying pieces and pulled him aside. "Lets get to dressing!"

Time passed like this, Titus would come and visit her pagoda, Roma would dress him up, and he would hide whenever anyone would come for Roma. But it would seem that his presence would not go unnoticed.

Roma's guards came today strangely more polite than usual, Titus had taken his usual hiding spot in a pile of plush sheets and pillows. He could see through a small gap between the pillows, but he could not be seen. As Roma stood by the door she quickly dropped to her knees in a bow. "My Lord, how kind of you to visit this humble wife." She lifted her head with a smile on her face, "How may I be of service to you today?"

A tall figure entered the room, his presence making the air suffocating. "Where is he."

Roma was too good at playing her part, "Forgive me my Lord, but whatever do you mean. The familiar you provided for me has long withered away.

"Bull Shit." With a snap of his fingers the guards began tearing apart the room. They had no mercy, and used their swords to pierce each pile of downy material into scraps.

Roma scampered to her feet and pulled at the mans robe, "Stop! Stop! Why are you ruining my room!?" She was roughly pushed back onto the ground before she could inquire further, but she didn't need to.

The Lord stomped on her hands and pulled at her hair, "Tell me where he is or who he is or I will break these sinful hands of yours! How dare you frolic with another while I provide you everything!" He pressed down hard as she screamed in agony. "There is no one! My Lord there is no one but my thoughts to spend time with me!" Tears rolled down her cheeks, but these seemed to enrage him further as he puller harder. "My Lord I assure you, please, do not destroy the only happiness I have."

"Then how dare you defy me! There was no trace of magical prowess on you before, but now here you are before me, exuding magical essence to anger me!" He removed his foot from her hand and let her head drop to the ground when he released her hair. He grasped her bruised hand squeezed, the pain was intense, but Roma could only focus on the cyan aura radiating from her hands. Magic.

She wasn't supposed to have any, in order to keep her obedient, her powers should've been sealed as a child. She had never been able to use them, so how could she even understand when her magic began to surface? She couldn't control it.

"ANSWER ME!" he yelled as his boot rushed towards her face, but it never made contact. Dark tendrils wrapped around his leg holding it back. They glanced back to find the source and found that none of the guards were moving. Their eyes were dark, a malicious mana poured from their orifices as they began to hit the ground.

The Lord quickly took his sword and sliced through the dark tendrils, and watched as they retreated into a pile of pillows.

"What sort of monster have you been rolling around with?" the man exclaimed, but he couldn’t speak for long as a blast of water magic shot at him the pile. Titus emerged then, his markings spreading more and more, reaching out as if trying to find something to hold onto.

Suddenly Roma remembered what he had told her once, he wasn't entirely dragon, and it took a lot of his energy to keep his malice sealed in. In the midst of the chaos she had almost forgotten she had been trying to help him! And now he was trying to save her with the very magic he tried so hard to contain. She scurried over to her storage chest and began to dig while trying to avoid being blasted with magic. She had hidden something in there, something she was certain would help him! Finally her fingers felt the cool smooth surface she was looking for and pulled it out. Her eyes went wide when she finally saw its condition, the sealing mask her mother had worn and handed down, it had broken in half! She wasn't certain it would still work, but she had to try! She held the mask in one hand and looked at her other, she needed to try and use her magic! Sure enough a few sparks danced on her fingertips and she glanced at the two fighting behind her. The Lord was a light dragon , his attacks blast of light mana there was no "residue" to his spells, but Titus's water spells left puddles everywhere, that was her chance! Magic can't be so hard right? She just needs to unleash a strong concentrated surge, that should be enough.

"Titus!" she yelled, "Catch!" She threw the broken mask at him while grabbing onto the Lord's arm. Sure enough Titus was quick to catch the mask, and Roma did the only thing she could think of, she released a surge of magic from her hands, the lightning quickly took its form and coursed through the water on the ground. Titus jumped back as far as he could, avoiding the potent wave that could surely take him out. The Lord however, was being tightly gripped by Roma, his eyes white as the current ran through his body, the pain numbing his body and mind. As Roma stopped her haphazard spell she let the Lord fall, she herself had suffered no repercussions from the spell, physically at least. Mentally she was drained, her mana having been almost entirely released from her body. She staggered over to the window and stepped over any puddle, just in case. "We uh, need to go." And once again, she fell.Barely conscious she felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around her as she passed out.

When Roma awoke she was in a humble bed in a cramped room. A soft warm light came in through the windows lighting up the area. She was alone it seemed, but a plate of fruit was on the nightstand and a jug of water was there as well. She tried to stand, but her nerves were extremely sensitive, so she stayed in bed eating fruit. Night came and the door opened, waking her up from her sleep. She knew that blue hair all too well and she sat up as Titus walked in and closed the door behind him. From here Titus explained that she had been out for a few weeks, and he had taken her to a distant territory where he hoped her husband would not find her. She had depleted so much magic her body had gone into a state of shock it seems. In those weeks Titus had discovered that the mask did indeed work for him, but it had taken a lot of damage when she fell and he dropped it trying to catch her. But he came with good news! He was putting a small clan together in the hopes of trying to accomplish his goals of being a strong leader. While his current line up was currently seeking a good base of operations, he had returned to her every night to feed her his own mana. Due to her sleeping in she was now technically the third to agree to travel with him. What a shame, after all she would have been #1 had she been awake!

[poemsfromearthsea]

Not Entirely Unfamiliar

The wind had gathered itself into great gusts, swooping blue-black around shaking rafters, and the distant complaint of thunder hinted that rain would soon start to plummet over the mountains. The house stood in silhouette against a fading sky, and it wouldn’t be long before the only light would be the warm glow from the windows; even that might soon be obscured by the storm. Six windows on the upper floor were empty, invisible in the night. The seventh had flickered to life half an hour ago and stayed that way, lighting its solitary occupant in whatever she was doing apart from her fellow travelers.

    Lightning flickered, and the six downstairs pointed and looked and murmured among themselves. The house was not maintained by any staff or sponsor, but its aged facilities were kept clean and intact by the guests who wandered through like lost souls. Few planned to arrive, but any who did pass through cleaned and repaired and left the place looking as it did—or better than it did—when they found it.

These six had blown in from all directions that night, stumbling through the doorway one after another, fleeing the clouds congregating on the horizon. They all loved a storm—all but one—but they had long miles to travel, and shelter was welcome as far as they were concerned. From the fireside in the big room downstairs, though, the bolts sending their broken fingers down over the mountains made a pretty picture.

    “More cider?” asked the old woman in black, whose snowy hair tumbled like clouds or seafoam down her back. The child sitting at her feet shook their head, setting their empty cup carelessly to the side. They were not hers. They were not anyone’s. This made everybody slightly concerned.

    A moment later they looked up with eyes that flickered, green-gold, green-gold, in the firelight. “Tell me a story,” they said, staring across the room at the dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark-skinned man in a top hat and tails. He had arrived in a gust of wind—no one knew how—possibly he had flown out of the sky.

    “Pardon?” he asked. He had been looking out the window, but he felt the child’s gaze was directed at him and turned around.

    “A story,” they demanded. “I know you have one.”

    The man chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “I have many,” he told the child, who nodded encouragingly, shadows playing over their face like children in mourning running across white sand.

    The man raised his eyes to the room at large. They were black, or possibly deep blue. “Who would like to hear a story?” he asked in a clarion voice.

    The journeyers glanced at one another, at the man, at the child who had started the whole thing. Some nodded in mute assent. The grey-haired boy in the corner shrugged.

    “If you’re telling a story,” said the broad-shouldered man, holding his wife’s hand in his own weathered one, “why not call the other down?” No one doubted who he meant by the other. Firstly, because there was only one other; secondly, because you could not help but think of the person who had not so much as stopped in the doorway before heading upstairs as “the other.” They had all heard the retreating footsteps on the stairs outside, and the slam of the wooden door.

    The man in the top hat shook his head. “No,” he said simply, idly twisting his goatee round a spindly finger. “I think she wants to be left alone.” 

    “Could be a he,” muttered the grey boy, “or a they.” But no one paid him any mind.

    “So—a story?” asked the fellow jovially. And, greeted with no disagreement, he began to tell.

₼

    “There was a child,” he began, “and there was a tree. The tree was white as moonlight and tall enough to almost touch the source, and its leaves whispered things to those who listened. The boy listened.

    “He learned the ways of the forest, and of the meadow; he learned how to tie a snare and make a trail and which flowers he could eat. But he was not satisfied, so he listened harder.

    “The tree, whose bark had begun to split here and there, told him the secrets of the mind. How to solve any problem. How to write a poem of perfect form. It whispered the great philosophical questions in his ear so that he might ask instead of answering some things in the ancient halls of knowledge. It taught him why things fall, and why they move, and where they go. But he was not satisfied, so he listened harder.

    “The tree’s bark had split further, inky black beneath. And it told him the secrets of the heart: how to stave off loneliness, homesickness, heartache; how to befriend the ones he wished, and drive off the others; what made envy, and love, and lust for riches or power or flesh stir the emotions; and who he should trust; and who he should not. But he was still not satisfied, so he listened harder.

    “The leaves of the tree had turned a dingy black. It told him the secrets of life and death—how to live and why to live and what came after life, knowledge whispered in a voice dry and cracking. Still, he was not satisfied. He listened harder.

    “But the bark had all fallen in skeletal curls from the dry dark trunk of the tree, and the leaves were the color of night and dropped pieces like ash into the wind, and it had no voice left with which to speak. All its knowledge had gone to the boy.

    “And, unsatisfied, the boy walked away without a glance behind, and entered the world.

    “In the world, the boy suffered. He knew how to make his way in comfort, and he knew how to solve anything he set his brain to solve, and he could read the ways of other humans like a book, and he knew how he ought to live and for what he was waiting.

    “Poor boy, he knew too much—for all he knew made it so that he could never settle into one thing. It was too easy, and too mundane and monotonous, and he flitted like a bat from job to job and home to home and person to person. The only knowledge which did not manifest just as the tree had said was that of life and death. Instead of making life as predictable and regular as any job, this knowledge drove him wild because it was impossible to act upon. He knew how and why he ought to live, but the world and its wiles would not allow it in practice.

    “Some things cannot be understood, even when they are known, and some things cannot be cheated, like death.

    “The boy, now a man, stumbled from the city, and as he cried, his tears turned to bark, and his hair to branches, and his body to a cold dark trunk—and a thousand thousand leaves whispered the secrets that could not save him to the wind.”

₼

    There was rapt silence. The ebony-skinned woman who sat with her hand in her husband’s looked enthralled, and he looked shocked. The grey-haired boy had raised a skeptical eyebrow. The woman with hair like clouds nodded quietly, and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. The child grinned a broad grin, wild, hungry, untamed.

    “Tell me more,” they breathed.

    “There is no more.”

    “There must be more!”

    “Why must there be more?”

    The shadows drew curtains over the child’s eyes, and when they slid away, the eyes had calmed. Thunder sang its rumbling song, coming closer still.

    “I can tell a story,” said the wife. The child turned golden eyes on her, and her husband looked up in surprise. The other travelers glanced at her in expectation. “It does not, perhaps, have the good structure”—warned she—“of Mr.…?”     “Sylvansen,” said the man with the goatee. Her husband drew in his breath, but a howl of wind obscured the sound.

    “Mr. Sylvansen’s,” she continued, “but it is an old story that my family has kept for years. We call it Rosalie.”

₼

    “They say that Rosalie was a happy child from the moment she saw the sun. Pink and healthy like a summer apple she rolled the hills, singing with birds and leaping streams, covered in dirt but crowned always with a wreath of pink peonies.

    “One day, she met my great-great-great grandmother. She—my great-great, that is, not the girl—was lively, quick to speak and quicker to sprint, hair cropped short to avoid burrs, feet bare and calloused by forest ground.

    “Rosalie said to her—to Clara, that was her name—did she want to go look for ladybugs? And Clara agreed. They roamed meadows of wildflowers together, and when night fell, Rosalie took her by the hand and dragged her into the forest, where they ran between the trees and snatched at fireflies, giggles filling the dark.

    “Ah—I forgot—Rosalie’s laugh was infectious, sweet, and light. But some say they heard malice underneath.

    “The girls grew up together, fell in and out of love, stayed friends. Rosalie was changing—everyone said so, except Clara, who didn’t notice. Rosalie had found one lightning bug too many, they joked in town, and it had told her something nobody wanted to know.

    “This may have been right, I don’t know. Probably it wasn’t. Probably, Rosalie saw for herself the dark, and figured it out herself. That’s what I think, anyway.

“My point is, Rosalie’s pink had turned dusky, and she looked out of tired eyes and seemed hateful. Upon a kiss one day—well, some said it was a kiss and others say, only a look—she devoured something out of Clara. After that Clara was quiet, and she shook, and Rosalie left laughing into the hills.”

₼

    “Was that the end?” blinked Mr. Sylvansen.

    “Well—Clara married another woman, a surprise because she made a strange, quiet wife, and no one thought anyone would have her. But she got pregnant through a spell—the couple wanted children—and raised a family, and they lived, if not happily, then at least untroubled ever after.”

    Sylvansen shrugged approval of this end, and the woman’s husband held her hand tighter. They grey boy had leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The child looked confused.

    The white-haired woman, who had given her name as Percival when she had stumbled in out of the wind, bearing a too-heavy pack, was nodding more firmly now, and a frown marred her soft features.

    The grey-haired boy stood, a smile twitching nervously on his face. “T-tired of stories yet?” he stammered.

    Oh, no, they had only just begun. Heads shook round the fire, illuminated for a moment by a brighter light as lightning flashed closer to the house. Thunder followed only five seconds after. The storm was closing in.

    “Right,” said the boy.

₼

    “My name was Adelaide, but I don’t have a name anymore.

    “When I was a child, I loved that name like anything. Still do really, but not in the same way. Adelaide. It’s musical, I say. And when I was a child, I’d accept no nickname, no short name, no other name. It was Adelaide or nothing.

    “The name kept me bright and happy. When I was discouraged, I’d call myself Adelaide—Cheer up, you’re the great Adelaide, I’d say. If I was bored, I’d think, surely Adelaide is the name of a genius! When I was shy—oh, how can they resist a boy called Adelaide?

    “You know, I poured myself into that name and I made myself out of that name. I had a hundred fantasies, too. Adelaide was a pirate or a journeyer or a blacksmith or a king, beloved by all his people. Damn, yeah, I did love it and I could do anything, anything, with a name like Adelaide.

    “But—hell, I dunno, maybe I was a bit too self-assured, or a tad too charismatic, or maybe Fate just had it in for me—I met the wrong woman.

    “Not like that. She was at least ten years older than me…or she looked that way, anyhow, I’m not sure in retrospect…gold hair, going white, blue-green eyes. She called me Adelaide and I called her Danica, though I’m certain that wasn’t her name.

    “But when she called me Adelaide…I dunno, it was like she was hungry or something, and she ended every sentence with it. ‘How are you today, Adelaide?’ ‘That’s good to hear, Adelaide.’ ‘Do you want some cocoa, Adelaide?’ ‘See you tomorrow, Adelaide.’

    “And—call it witchcraft, say names have power—every time she used the name I liked it a little less. Like she was bleeding it dry. And one day I asked her to call me Adi.

    “On that day, she cackled—there’s not another word for her laugh, it was a cackle—and told me she had taken my name. I was scared, I scoffed, I ran in half-disbelief, but she was honest.

    “No one knew my name anymore. No one would call me Adelaide. And the name, it didn’t feel like a part of me any longer anyway.

    “You know, my hair used to be a really beautiful auburn. And my eyes were bright blue. People called them ‘piercing.’ I saw them fade to grey. A lot of things are grey now. Life isn’t very interesting when you don’t have a name, especially when your name used to be something like Adelaide.”

₼

    He stopped unceremoniously, cast his eyes down, and for a moment the moon, piercing through the clouds, made his hair stand out in a bright silver mist around his head. Percival’s eyes were wide and she leaned forward in her seat. The child gnawed their lower lip anxiously. The couple looked at one another in concern and Mr. Sylvansen had raised both eyebrows.

    Rain began to hit the roof in intermittent drops. They were on the edge of the storm, and it was fully dark outside. Twilight’s aching fingers had been dragged down below the horizon, and cloudy, starless night had swept over to take their place.

    “Speaking of names,” said the broad-shouldered man, “I think I have a story to tell.”

    By now, the room was captivated, and they turned to him without hesitation.

₼

    “My mother hated the man who she called my ‘scoundrel of a father.’ And that was on a good day. She was a good woman, my mother, but overworked, and her patience had been tried to within an inch of its life. Indeed, it was amazing that she didn’t curse him more often than she did. As it was, she managed to abuse his name at least three times a week, though sometimes quietly and out of my hearing.

    “For many years, I didn’t question this. I had never known this man who gave me life, and I didn’t miss him and didn’t have any particular desire to know him. If my mother said my father was a bastard, it didn’t mean much to me.

    “But almost any teenage boy starts questioning his identity as soon as he’s old enough to start wondering about life and where it comes from. So, when I was fifteen years old, I asked my mother about this lost father of mine.

    “And this is what she told me: That my father was a man who blew into her life with an air of vague dissatisfaction when she was in her mid-twenties. That he loved her (or said he did), and made love to her, and then he left her. 

    “That my father knew many things—many things—and that made him bored and never satisfied with anything. That he sometimes railed at night that life was not what it said life was—whatever it was.

    “That, when my father vanished, she called out into the night, and then, more sensibly, into the local office of law. He had left behind only a note, which stated what he wished me to be named, when I was born. She didn’t even know she was pregnant yet. She did soon, and she ignored the name he wanted me to have.

    “The law followed my father’s trail fairly accurately. Apparently my mother’s story was not entirely unfamiliar to them. Several women before had come to them, complaining about a no-good lowlife who had left them with child and nothing else. There were rumors, too, of other women who had not come forward about the same thing.

    “And they had all described the same man. Anyway, this time they got on the case fairly early—other women had waited longer than my mother for his return, but she was an impatient woman—they got on the case, I say, early; but when they followed him out of the city where we lived, they saw not hide nor hair of him.

    “They did note one thing, though. My mother always mentioned it as a curiosity, but…well, judge for yourself whether it may be more than that.

    “Directly outside the city limits, they found a white tree--fully grown, but unfamiliar--and the name my father would have given me was Alistair Sylvansen.”

₼

    Mr. Sylvansen’s eyes grew wide, and his grin grew wider still. “Brother,” he murmured.

    “Half-brother, I think,” said the other man, rising and disentangling himself from his wife.

    “We do share some resemblance, perhaps?” asked Sylvansen, studying the other closely.

    “The hair, I think.” He ran fingers through thick black hair. “Certainly not stature.”

    They embraced. “What should I call you?” asked Mr. Sylvansen, when they broke apart. “Alistair is not your given name, you said?”

    “I am Trevor,” said Trevor.

    “And I am Harrien.” 

    They smiled at each other. The child clapped, and the nameless boy joined in. Trevor’s wife was beaming from the sofa where they had sat, and tears were in her eyes.

    “Our father…was a tree,” said Trevor.

    “Yes.”

    “How did you know?”

    “I was a curious child,” laughed Harrien. “And I dedicated several years to finding out the truth. They carried me all the way to the shell of the tree that told him his secrets so long ago.”

    Trevor shook his head in disbelief. “To think I thought my life mundane,” he muttered. And he and Harrien retired to a corner of the room to talk over their newfound kinship.

    Percival turned from them, her smile growing sad, and then vanishing in a frown. She glanced gravely at the remaining travelers. “I think it is my turn to tell a story, no?” There were nods of assent as faces sobered. This game had more hanging on it than they had realized before, and all were curious to see which way it might swing next.

    “Very well. I will tell you my story—the story of my childhood—and I think, perhaps, it will make several things very clear. I will speak quickly. We may have very little time.” Footsteps shuffled overhead, the rain outside redoubled in volume, and lighting and thunder split the air in tandem feet from the window.

    Percival began to speak.

₼

“When Percy was twelve years old, she sold her soul for a friend and an enchilada. Poor girl, no one had ever taught her how to barter well. Oh, she’d been trading for years--a lock of red hair for a leather-bound notebook, her sorrow for a blue dress, her childish innocence for an inkwell and a quill pen--but recklessly, recklessly, without any guidance or sense of negotiations. Really, it was lucky that she hadn’t traded away her soul (or her heart, or her mind) earlier.

“She’d grown up ragtag in the streets of Hadells, red curls flying and turning blacker and whiter with every bargain she made under the papel picado and the hellfire stars. This town obeyed no rules and followed no master. It was a dreamworld, some back alley of reality where all the strayaways and break-offs and damned souls went to barter and cavort. Persephone’s mother had left the girl in a cardboard box behind an Applebee’s, and a kindly frog-spirit had picked her up and carried her off.

“But even they hadn’t cared for her for long; the hapless child seemed doomed to a life without guidance or parenthood. Left to her own devices, she named herself Persephone, called herself Percy, and learned to find coins in forgotten corners and trade thoughts for food and dreams for shelter.

“She was happy, really, with her haphazard existence. She knew the best places to watch the conjurings, summonings, and necromancy dances. She knew where the salamanders sang with fire in their eyes while listless wraiths waltzed, almost imperceptible, in the air. Percy had lost count of the number of Impromptu Shakespeare shows she’d seen shouted from the rooftops by Saul Sebastien and His Aerial Acrobats. She ate falafel with precious gems baked into the center and slept in hammock hotels overlooking all-night song circles.

“But she had no guidance. No one told her this is safe, this isn’t, go here, but stay away from there. No one watched her barter with a questioning eye. Nobody looked at her askance when she came home with fire in her eyes and blood on her shoes and a bright new dress.

“She didn’t know what to do or how to act. She met with those she chose, and bought what she wished—all of which is fine until it drives a person over the edge, until they place their foot on loose gravel and fall.

“Percy was twelve years old, and it had been half a decade since she had a friend. Her last friend had been a girl called Clara, a young woman who had humored her for a while when she was seven. Clara had been quiet, unspeaking, and she shook. And one day she got a determined look in her eyes, bought Percy a loaf of bread, patted her orange curls, and left.

“Percy decided, then, that she wanted a friend. Now that she was twelve, she thought, she ought to have one. But friends in Hadells were shifty and shady—difficult to come by and harder to keep.

“‘Excuse me, but where could I find a friend?’ asked Percy of a stray wind.

“‘Not here,’ it hissed, and flew away.

“She put the same question to an ugly lizard vendor, who frowned and waved a hand vaguely, as if to say, damned if I know. Damned anyway, actually.

“She asked a tall woman with emerald curls, who smiled, snakelike, and told her to come and see. Percy may not have had guidance, but she knew enough to run.

“Finally, she asked a small, wide-eyed creature with red leather for skin and a tongue like white fire. It hopped deep, deep into the fog of a side alley, and Percy followed.

“She followed it into a mossy cave, where—of all things—was a dilapidated street cart selling hot enchiladas. ‘Buy an enchilada,’ said the creature, ‘get one friend for free. The only price is…’ and its eyes narrowed and it gave her a glance as though it were reading her, white tongue flicking over leathery mouth. ‘The only price, my darling, is your soul.’”

“And Persephone’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed, but more in debate than suspicion. Was it worth it?

“She had no sooner decided that yes, it was worth it, than she lost her soul, lost it to the little red creature; I found myself standing in the street above, holding an enchilada in one hand and the hand of a smiling girl in the other, hair shocked white, and my name no longer more than halfway suitable.

“I named myself Percival and never called myself Percy again. The girl didn’t have a name either, so I helped her choose one. She called herself Len. Len had short blond hair and clever grey eyes, and we were friends for many, many years. 

“But the creature had gifted me a friend who was not soulless like I was, but real and human, and she died, as humans do. Without a soul, I found that I could not.

“It has been many years since then, and, like our friend Mr. Sylvansen, I have spent my years in pursuit of knowledge about the one who made me. I know very little.

“I know that it can be anything and anyone. I know that it has taken many things from many people. I know that nobody it meets is ever the same after.

“And I know that everyone in this room has been affected, one way or another, by the creature that took my soul.”

₼

The silence had turned icy-cold. The rain drove itself furiously into the ground, heedless of the lightning splitting its frantic assembly. Somewhere close by, fire had begun to flicker, doused but never quite extinguished by the deluge.

The child’s green-gold eyes were wide and rolled slightly. They stood, face twitching spasmodically between a grimace and a mad grin. In the fire, their hair, shocked straight out from their head (By electricity? By some freak of nature?) glowed a shifting, burning orange. They looked like a live little flame, hovering a few feet in the air.

They began to speak in a terrified sing-song voice.

The eater eats your soul and sprite, the spirit trapped within!

The eater eats your heart and mind, it wants your secret sins.

The eater dwells in forests and in cities’ clouded air!

The eater dwells on mountains, and she’s waiting—right up there!

The child jabbed a desperate finger at the ceiling, over and over, like a puppet.

The eater eats us all someday no matter how we flee!

The eater ate young Adelaide and now it’s come for me!

The eater’s feet are shuffling along the wooden floor.

The eater’s claws are grasping, and they’re heading for the door!

There was no flash of lightning, no clap of thunder. The rain didn’t even hush to provide a dramatic silence. There was simply a knock—a polite, quiet knock—barely audible over the sound of the storm.

Six faces looked at one another in heavy terror. Breath came labored, slowly. Percival stood, white hair glinting in the low illumination. She looked each person in their eyes. “Come in,” she whispered. A whisper was all that was necessary.

The door opened. The figure standing in it was that of an old woman. Silver hair pulled back in a bun—slightly hunch-backed—wearing a pink shawl. Kindly eyes. She smiled broadly, and her eyes fixed on the child.

“Darling!” she said, bustling in and shutting the door against the gale. “Oh, my child. You have no idea—I’ve been looking for you for years—my child, my grandchild!”

Frightened faces turned to look at that of the child. A moment before, it had seemed the most afraid of all. Now doubt flickered across the wild features—doubt and longing. The child desired more than all to belong to someone, to lose the independence that had forged them into something not-quite-human, the independence that had carried them over this mountain. The independence that, last night, had set them knocking at the door of a carriage, where a young and beautiful witch had seen their face and gone into paroxysms of grief for the creature she saw waiting for them just the next night. 

“Come home with me, sweetheart,” said the old woman. “I’ve missed you so.”

The child swallowed deeply. Percival’s eyes flashed. In the shadowed corner, Harrien had snuffed out the candle, and he and Trevor were on their feet, tense. The grey boy was cowering, and Trevor’s wife looked bewildered.

“Stand down, old friend,” said Percival. “I know you.”

The woman’s eyes swung to her, and something in them clicked in recognition.

“I know you, t-too,” stammered the boy, arms flung up to shield his head.

Another glance, another click.

“Our father knew you,” said Harrien, and Trevor took his hand and nodded, mute and stunned.

“And my,” said the wife, still disbelieving, “and my great-great-great grandmother too, I think.”

Warm eyes gone cold scanned them all and the eater, faced with something it had never encountered before, met with familiar faces, nodded grimly. Something rippled under its soft skin.

“Stand down,” Percival repeated.

The eater’s eyes rolled angrily. “But Percy, darling, they are mine.”

“It’s Percival. They belong to no one.”

The shape by the door let out a hiss unfamiliar to the tongues of grandmothers. “Exactly.”

“S-stand down; they — they aren’t yours to t-t-t — to take.” The boy’s stutter was worse than ever.

“Adelaide, Adelaide,” sang the eater, and he covered his ears with his hand.

“What do you want?” asked Trevor. Harrien had opened his mouth to say stand down, but he closed it and looked curious.

“Them.”

“Their soul?” asked Percival.

“Their n- their name, whatever it is—” the boy said quickly.

“Spirit?” queried Trevor’s wife.

“Curiosity?” asked the Sylvansens.

“Them.”

“My freedom,” said the child very quietly.

“You,” said the eater, hungrily.

The child drew a hand furiously across their crying eyes. “You can’t.”

The eater could have whatever it wanted. It shook off the form of the grandmother and became something else. A bright orange knit sweater fell to the floor and coiled there, becoming a chain and lock briefly, and then vanishing to some other plane.

The eater lunged.

In the same moment, Harrien Sylvansen, seeker of lost knowledge and trained sorcerer, beckoned a hand to the fire encroaching upon the mountain outside. As the fire leaped, he shouted run! and six faces, briefly confused, saw his meaning as the house went up in flames.

Trevor gathered his wife into his arms and ran with Harrien out the door, the grey-haired boy at their heels. Percival, who had gathered the child into her own arms, ducked to avoid the eater and scrambled toward the exit, not in time.

The eater’s substance twisted, and so did the house, bursting wide and sending flaming boards in all directions. The mountain was alight.

The family of three huddled with Adelaide, and a few feet away stood Percival, white hair flaming momentarily and then put out by the wind and rain, the child huddled in the thick folds of her skirt. Ash fell from her hair, shorn to her shoulders, white gone cindery and black.

The eater crouched in the remains of the fireplace.

There is no time, they heard without sound, and there is no space. The rain will not stop for you and the mountain will not move. The stars never ceased their dance for the life of a human.

The child knew they were not human, and the words registered.

Slowly the folds of the skirt pulled aside, and their pale face and bright eyes flinched at the storm. “So,” they said. “Take me, then.”

I will devour you, said the eater.

“Oh, yes,” said the child. “I imagine you will.”

Percival muttered something quiet and desperate, but the child had tilted forward suddenly out of her grasp, sprinting across the remaining distance to the thing that wanted to eat them.

The child, too small, struggled forward against wind and rain, and met their hunter.

Black nothing consumed them, swallowed them. They forced their mouth open, forced their eyes to bear stinging a little longer. They began to speak again in their frightened sing-song.

I know something you don’t know,

I know something you don’t know,

I know something you don’t know,

They sang and they swallowed nothing and everything, lost souls and lost courage and forgotten names. They spit and coughed and kept singing.

I know something you don’t know,

I know who you are

I want that which you desire,

Swallow me, a star.

The eater swallowed them. They spat out the last of the things that choked them, and felt something tightening round their chest and neck.

You’ve been looking long and hard,

That is what I know.

Searching for yourself, I guess,

Everywhere you go.

The rushing in their ears stopped. The eater was listening.

Trevor’s father wondered things,

Clara was vivacious.

Grey-boy’s name that was his own,

Percy’s soul so gracious.

Clever child, said the eater. You know what I want.

And they both lunged for it at the same time, grasping for the same thing inside one another. But the eater was old and tired, and weighed down by the things it had eaten, more than a lifetime of full meals. It didn’t know what it sought, and it didn’t realize that many of the things it ate, it had already.

The child knew what they wanted, and the child won. “You’re mine now,” they smiled, feeling the rush of release. 

They stood in the storm, the eater curled at their feet, independence gone.

The other travelers stared.

“I don’t think it can give back what it took. Sorry,” shrugged the child. They were young and selfish and didn’t particularly care whether the others got their dues, as long as they were safe. “I don’t want it here, either,” they said ponderously. They were also old beyond their years.

Harrien disentangled himself from his newfound family and pushed forth against the rain and wind. “I can unbind it,” he said. “But….”

“What happens then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell it a story,” shouted Percival across the noise of the downpour.

Harrien smiled his crooked smile. He bent to look more closely at the eater. “Come with me,” he said, fingers twitching in the air nearby. “Let me help you understand something.” 

The eater disengaged itself from the child, who ran weeping to collapse against Percival. Harrien and the shadow disappeared behind the last standing wall of the house.

Everyone else stood heedless of the pummeling rain, breath held, waiting. 

Something flapped away, barely visible in the humid air, over the scorched wall and into the clouds, which swirled briefly around its retreat. Harrien sauntered out from behind the wall. 

Six strangers on a burning mountain—not entirely human, not entirely whole, and not entirely unfamiliar anymore—sat huddled together to wait out the storm.

[the-desolated-quill]

The Keys Of Marinus - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this serial yet, you may want to before reading this review)

Oh poop!

The Keys Of Marinus was written by Dalek writer Terry Nation at the last minute to replace another serial written by Malcolm Hulke, which was deemed problematic by script editor David Whittaker. It speaks to Nation’s talents as a writer that he was able to come up with a compelling premise at such short notice, however the execution leaves a lot to be desired.

The TARDIS arrives on an island of glass in the middle of a sea of acid. Okay. Stop right there. I’m already sold! What a great location! Sure the 60s production values hamper the vision slightly, but that opening wide shot of the glass temple and the tranquil sea really is breathtaking. I really wish New Who could be as imaginative as this.

So anyway, the Doctor and co quickly run across a monk named Arbitan who is protecting a machine called the Conscience of Marinus from a group of invaders called the Voord. The Conscience has the power to remove evil from the minds of the planet’s entire population, but requires five keys for it to operate effectively. So it’s a race against time to find the keys and stop the Voord before it’s too late.

What really frustrates me about this six part serial is that there’s a really good idea at the centre of it that Terry nation fails to capitalise on. A machine that effectively brainwashes an entire planet, eradicating evil from the minds of the population. This opens so many questions that could have been fun to explore. Why would people willingly allow justice and morality be dictated by a machine? What gives Arbitan the right to decide what is and isn’t moral? How does the Conscience even know what’s moral considering that morality isn’t absolute and is often contextual (for example killing someone out of malice versus killing someone in self defence) or comes down to an individual’s point of view (for example abortion)? Is our free will and individuality what allows evil to exist in the world? if so, would we be prepared to give it up for the sake of peace or would that be too high a cost? It’s an excellent premise and yet the story does absolutely nothing with it. The Doctor doesn’t even comment on the ethics of such a machine until right at the end with a little throwaway line about how man shouldn’t be ruled by machines, which is really baffling to me. Sure the First Doctor isn’t quite the noble do-gooder his future incarnations would be in the years to come, but he still takes a moral stand. He still holds firm beliefs on matters such as freedom and personal autonomy. So to have the Doctor not comment on this rather fascist machine seems wildly out of character.

The main problem this serial has is its plot structure. Rather than taking the time to expand on the initial concept, each episode of The Keys Of Marinus plays out as its own mini-adventure with its own settings and challenges. By far the best episode of the six is the second one, titled The Velvet Web. The Doctor and co arrive in the city of Morphoton in search of one of the keys. Morphoton is initially presented as a perfect utopia where the TARDIS crew are waited on hand and foot, but over the course of the episode it’s revealed that everyone is being hypnotised by a Mesmer field and that the city is really a dirty, filthy squalor. This episode stands a cut above the rest for several reasons. The most obvious is the premise itself. (Honestly I think it’s good enough to be its own serial). It’s incredibly dark and genuinely unsettling. The hypnotised Altos played by Robin Phillips was especially creepy in particular. It gives Barbara a chance to shine as she’s the only one that manages to break free from the Mesmer and has to save everyone. But most importantly of all, it’s the only episode of the six that actually connects thematically with the central premise of the entire story. The idea of people giving up their free will for peace. If the entire serial was like this, I wouldn’t have much to complain about, but sadly that’s not the case. Before we can learn more about how the city came to be like this and what’s the deal with those brains in the jars, we’re suddenly whisked off to another part of the planet to find the next key.

The word ‘random’ comes to mind when I think of this serial. The entire story feels incredibly disconnected because there’s nothing that seems to link all of these mini-adventures together. After Morphoton, we head to a screaming jungle that’s growing rapidly out of control. The episode after that takes place in the snowy mountains where the TARDIS crew have to contend with a hunter, some wolves and frozen zombie knights (I... I don’t get it either). Then at the final key, Ian gets framed for murder and we get a courtroom drama. Quite a bizarre change of scenery, granted, but it could have worked. After the jungle and mountains tested everyone physically, the trial could have been more a battle of wits, serving as a nice contrast to previous episodes. Except it’s really not done very well. It’s the really boring kind of trial where the baddies hold all the cards and where the law seems to cater solely to the prosecution’s side for the sake of plot convenience. Also it opens up a slight plot hole. If the Conscience of Marinus dictates what’s right and wrong, what reason is there for a courtroom or a judiciary to even exist? And if all evil has been eradicated from the planet, why is there law enforcement? Surely the Conscience would make that redundant considering that crime shouldn’t be a thing anymore, right?

What it all boils down to is this. How does this world work? And the short answer is... I haven’t the foggiest idea. And that’s the problem. All of these episodes and scenarios are wildly different to the point where they don’t feel like they’re part of the same story. They don’t fit into any overall theme or connection. It just feels like a bunch of random concepts shoved together. What would have helped immensely is if the Voord could have played a bigger role in the entire serial. They only appear in the first and last episodes (in fact, to be honest, I actually completely forgot about them until they showed up again). We never learn anything significant about the Voord other than they’re bad guys who want the keys to use the Conscience and, again, Terry Nation doesn’t take the opportunity to properly connect them to the overarching plot. What if, instead of evil invaders, the Voord were actually Marinusians(?) who had somehow broken free from the Conscience’s influence and were trying to sabotage it to set everyone else free? Wouldn’t that be more interesting? You could even have the Mesmer in The Velvet Web episode serve as a microcosm of what happens later in the serial. But no. They’re just generic baddies who want to take over the world because the script said so. Sigh.

It’s so frustrating. Given more time and a couple of rewrites, this could have been something really special. It has one or two really strong ideas at its core that’s just begging to be explored. Sadly, while it does have its moments, The Keys Of Marinus just feels like a wasted opportunity.

[botwriter]

Rewritten, Chapter 15: The Runes, Part 2

Read this on Fanfiction.net or Ao3  ➜

♪

With a deep breath, and far more confidence than previously, Link set off up the mountain. He had spent some time cooking various elixirs and meals, all with spice and heat in them to keep him toasty up on the mountain; plus he figured he would be needing the energy. As he reached the tall stone pillars that gated the entrance, his feet sunk into the snow, and he realised it would be somewhat slow going from this point on.

After a few minutes of walking he came across a lake. He paused, staring at the waterfall at the end; it was beautiful, but there was something ominous about the waters. The sight of his own breath as he stopped had scared him, for just a moment; he jumped at the steam leaving his lips, but then sighed in relief. Heat filled his cheeks, and the tip of his nose. He was happy to be wearing the warm doublet.

A raft sat on the lake, and there was a tunnel across that led underneath the waterfall. Even though Link could see that he could traverse around the lake, it would take longer, and the curiosity as to what lay under the waterfall was too much to bear. The only problem was that the dock which the raft rested upon was broken halfway; how could he reach it? The water would be way too cold to swim in, and his clothes would be soaked after; there’d be no recovering from that, not as the sun had past noon.

Glancing sideways, he spotted a woodcutter’s axe left carelessly within a pine tree. Approaching it, he rested his hand briefly on the handle of the axe, and then looked up the trunk of the tree. It was a good size; if he could get it to fall just right, he’d have a bridge to walk to the raft with.

With a grunt, he pulled the axe out, surprised at the weight in his hands. Breathing deeply, he swung it towards the tree, keeping his hips squared towards the lake. The pine shook, and needles and pinecones fell silently to the snow below, along with a giant leaf. It almost didn’t look like it belonged to a pine tree, but Link tucked it into his belt nonetheless, figuring it would help him sail the raft. He hit the tree once more. The deep crack of breaking wood shook his eardrums, and the pine toppled, the trunk flowing in the lake ever so slowly to replace, however small, the dock that had been broken.

Tentatively, Link stepped upon it, and then ran the rest of the way, clambering onto the dock at the end. His heart was racing. He sat for a moment, cross-legged, watching the waterfall crash mercilessly into the lake at the far end. He had been born into this world, and spent, supposedly, seventeen conscious years in it, but it felt increasingly unforgiving. Had he really lived in Hyrule, the kingdom that was destroyed? Why was just he alive? Was it just him, the Old Man, and the voice in the castle? Who was he really saving?

He stood then, feeling somewhat depressed, eyes resting on the raft ahead of him. A loud cry pierced the silence, and he jumped, looking up in surprise to see an eagle soaring overhead. It dove, plunging into the frigid waters barely five feet away. Talons penetrated the surface, feathers wet with droplets, and the bird effortlessly pulled a struggling fish out of the water before lifting away. Link hadn’t noticed his mouth dropping open in awe. Something other than the cold temperature gave him a chill to his bones, and he stared at the bird as long as he could before it disappeared. He smiled then, just a little, and pulled out the giant leaf he had taken from the tree. With a yell and a strong hit forward, the raft moved, wind lifting its tattered sail. Link staggered backwards, a little breathless and excited at his new endeavor, and continued.

The lake wasn’t even that big, but sailing across it felt like an expedition to someone who had spent 100 years laying down. When he reached the end, he jumped a gap in the water, new confidence filling his heart. Sword drawn, he entered the cavern behind the waterfall, and found treasure, not monsters, as his reward. A bow, special arrows with tiny explosives tied to the ends, and a sword leagues above any he had found so far.

With new perserverance and gear, he began climbing the snowy mountain. Daylight hours became hard to tell as the powder fell, and each footstep was much harder than it would have been in grass, or at least without the proper footware. But when he reached the shrine atop the mountain, he realised he’d made better time than he’d assumed. It was yet to reach evening. Hurriedly, he entered the trial.

When he left, somewhat wet and chilly still, he came out with the power of Cryonisis. He knew, already, it would come in handy, and was becoming increasingly curious what the last shrine would grant him. Taking out one of the Boko shields from earlier, he jumped and landed on it, shredding down Hylia mountain towards the other end, as well as the old man’s cottage. It was good timing.

The weather became more tolerable as he descended from the mountain, but the shrine was in somewhat of a hard to reach area. Carefully, Link lowered himself down the cliffside, trying to stay patient as he knew he was so close to receiving the paraglider. When he finally reached it, he found a treasure chest buried by a boulder too heavy to push; frustrated, he left it, and entered the fourth and final shrine of the Great Plateau.

It gifted him with the power of Stasis, an interesting power with uses Link was sure he’d discover as he traveled, and immediately he knew how to reach the treasure. Locking the boulder in place, he pulled out a sledgehammer he had picked up and hit it as many times as he could muster. As the stasis faded - the time limit was maybe about twenty seconds, if that - the boulder lifted from the ground, dirt and bugs falling from place, as it launched into the air and towards a completely separate mountain range. A smile stretched across Link’s lips. He felt… like he could do this.

The Old Man greeted him then, flying down from who knows where, on his paraglider.

“Hoh - well done, courageous one. A deal is a deal. Meet me on the map where the four shrines intersect… draw an X between them, and meet me there. I will… be waiting…”

As he finished his speech, he disappeared, not with the paraglider and not like a blink! but in slow, blue flames. Link’s stomach sank. So - he was a ghost, after all? Or a spirit, of some type, but not human, not completely. Despite this, he was real, and Link bit his lip while pulling out the Sheikah Slate. Where the four shrines intersected, if there was an X between them…

With a surprised gasp, he looked up to see the Temple of Time, the ruined building the old man had pointed out previously. Confident he could make it before nightfall, Link began his descent further down the cliff, chopped a tree to use as a bridge to cross to the other side - with much less hesitance, despite the unending canyon beneath - and ran, as fast he could, towards the temple.

As he arrived, he could hear the old man yell again; “up here.”

Clambering up to the top via a ladder, he tip-toed carefully across the broken-down ceiling of the temple, finding the man standing in the front tower, blue flames around him.

“Well done, young one,” he chuckled. “Now then - the time has come… to show you who I truly am. I was King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule.”

♪

Link stared. King? This was not some old fool who lived in a cottage and forgot that there was seafood in a seafood dish. He resisted the urge to kneel, but seeing as Rhoam was a former king, he stayed standing. It didn’t feel appropriate in the moment.

“I was… the last leader of Hyrule. A kingdom which no longer exists,” he said with a depth and sadness to his voice. Blue light took over his body then, and the tattered clothes and hood and lantern cane disappeared, replaced with a man, undoubtedly the same, dressed in full royal attire. A crown sat upon his head, his beard white and clean and full, with a posture stronger than Link could ever hope to achieve. He floated ahead of him, and demanded respect.

“The Great Calamity was merciless… It devastated everything its path, lo, a century ago. It was then that my life was taken away from me,” he explained, and his eyes at this point were not giving much away. He seemed less saddened by his own death, and more guilt-ridden.

“Since that time, here I have remained, in spirit form. I did not think it wise to overwhelm you, while your memory was still fragile,” he explained, turning away from Link to pause at the stoney edge of the tower, broken away and giving out a view of Hyrule Castle.

“”So rather than that, I thought it best to assume a temporary form.” The King turned, ever slightly, to face Link. “Forgive me.”

Link had nothing to say. He could not be angry at the man. He was finally getting the answers he wanted.

“I think you are now ready. Ready to hear what happened, one hundred years ago.”

He turned to face Link now, and he steeled himself, taking a deep breath and nodding solemnly. The King narrowed his eyes momentarily at him, and then began.

“To know Calamity Ganon’s true form, one must know the story from an age long past. The demon king was born into this kingdom, but his transformation into Malice created the horror you see now. Stories of Ganon were passed from generation to generation in the form of legends and fairy tales. But there was also… a prophecy. The signs of a resurrection of Calamity Ganon are clear, and the power to oppose it lies dormant beneath the ground. We decided to heed this prophecy, and began excavating large areas of land. It wasn’t long before we discovered several ancient relics made by the hands of our distant ancestors. These relics, the Divine Beasts, were giant machines piloted by warriors. We also found the Guardians, an army of mechanical soldiers who fought autonomously.”

Link gasped, just a little, then, under his breath; was that what had fired at him before, by the second shrine? It had certainly been mechanical.

“This coincided with ancient legends, oft repeated throughout our land. We also learned of a princess with a sacred power, and her appointed knight, chosen by the sword that seals the darkness. It was they who sealed Ganon away using the power of these ancient relics.”

Questions raced through Link’s mind. Too many to keep track of. If the Guardians fought autonomously, whose side were they on? Who was the knight? The King seemed to sense the look in Link’s eyes, and looked at him more steadily. It was clear his answers were coming.

“One hundred years ago, there was a princess set to inherit a sacred power, and a skilled knight at her side. It was clear that we must follow our ancestor’s path. We selected four skilled individuals from across Hyrule and tasked them with the duty of piloting the Divine Beasts. With the princess as their commander, we dubbed these pilots Champions, a name that would solidify their unique bond. The princess, her appointed knight, and the rest of the Champions were on the brink of sealing away Ganon... “

Despite the King’s obvious and ominous tone, Link had hope, for the briefest moment. He knew it had been unsuccessful. He could see the castle from here, torn apart by malice and devastation.

“But nay…” the king sighed, shaking his head, “Ganon was cunning, and he responded with a plan beyond our imagining. He appeared from deep below Hyrule castle, seized control of the Guardians and the Divine Beasts, and turned them against us. The Champions lost their lives. Those residing in the castle, as well. The appointed knight, gravely wounded, collapsed while defending the princess… and thus, the kingdom of Hyrule was devastated absolutely by Calamity Ganon.”

He fell silent for a moment. Link stared at him. He was about to speak, but had no clue what to say to a king who had fallen with his kingdom. But Rhoam took a breath, and spoke again.

“However… the princess survived… to face Ganon alone.”

As soon as he had finished that sentence, Link once again heard the voice, but now it came to him faster, clearer, than before. Link… you are our final hope… the fate of Hyrule rests with you.

He shook himself out of the vision and stared back up at the King, who was facing away from him now, ashamed.

“That princess was my own daughter… my dear Zelda.”

Link could nearly feel the air leaving his lungs. He was breathless, shaking on his knees, and grasped the stone wall nearby to brace himself from the horrifying feeling he had gotten when hearing that name. He knew her. Eyes wide, he stared at the ground as the King continued speaking, unaware.

“And the courageous knight, who protected her right up to the very end…  That knight was none other than you, Link.”

The King seemed undisturbed by Link’s current struggle. He shut his eyes tight, trying, desperately trying to put the pieces together in his mind. He knew her. He knew Zelda. The name itself struck such a chord in his heart that it nearly stopped. Of course he was the appointed knight, he had to protect her - always - sworn to her, to keeping her safe, and now-

he looked up suddenly at the King, fighting the tears welling in his eyes and the look of guilt-ridden horror on his face. This was not just backstory of Hyrule. It had told him something awful about himself: that he had been unable to protect her. That he had tried, and failed, at protecting Zelda, the very daughter of the man standing in front of him now. 

“You fought valiantly, when your fate took an unfortunate turn… and then, you were taken to the Shrine of Resurrection. Here you now stand revitalized, one hundred years later.”

Why me?

“The words of guidance you have been hearing since your awakening are from Princess Zelda herself,” the King added, and those words alone let Link breathe a little. She was still alive. Of course, that voice, the light in the castle, belonged to her. But how?

“Even now, as she works to restrain Ganon from within Hyrule Castle, she calls out for your help. However, my daughter’s power will soon be exhausted. Once that happens, Ganon will freely regenerate himself and nothing will stop him from consuming our land. Considering that I could not save my own kingdom, I have no right to ask this of you, Link... but I am powerless here…”

The King’s hands clenched into fists. He hesitated to meet Link���s gaze.

“You must save her…my daughter. And do whatever it takes to annihilate Ganon. Somehow, Ganon has maintained control over all four Divine Beasts, as well as those Guardians swarming Hyrule Castle. I believe it would be quite reckless for you to head directly to the castle at this point. I suggest… that you make your way east, out to one of the villages in the wilderness. Follow the road out to Kakariko village,” the king explained, lifting his arm in gesture towards the two mountains which appeared as one, split down the middle.

“There, you will find the elder, Impa. She will tell you more about the path that lies ahead. Consult the map on your Sheikah Slate for the precise location of Kakariko village. Make your way past the twin summits of the Dueling Peaks… from there, follow the road as it proceeds north.”

Link was speechless. There was far too much to process from all that information, however grateful he was for it. He felt like his head was about to burst, and had nearly forgotten all about the paraglider when the King handed it over and disappeared with one last haunting message: Link, you must save Hyrule.

He slumped against the wall of the tower. The sun had nearly set now, and he felt it no use to leave for Kakariko in the pitch black of night, so he stayed and waited out the darkness. Sleep did not come easy, and Link frequently awoke to stare at Hyrule Castle, trying to see the light again.

He thought of his own reflection. Zelda, the princess, had trusted him with her life; that much was clear. He had fallen in battle. Some mistake he had made, some miscalculation, had cost him everything, had cost Hyrule everything. The guilt tore at him, and Link curled over, clutching his stomach. Was there no Champion more suited than he was, to be responsible for saving the Kingdom? The appointed knight was chosen by the sword that sealed the darkness, but he was sure he had no such weapon, nor any idea where to find it. He repeated her name over and over again in his head. Zelda. It was home to so many emotions he could not place, like a locked box he didn’t have the key for, but grief was the word that lingered on his tongue. For one hundred years, he had been asleep, his life given back to him, and she had been exhausting herself within the castle somehow holding back Calamity Ganon. What powers did she hold?

Link had maybe gotten an hour of real sleep when the sun began to rise, and pulled him from his slumber. He took one last look at the castle before holding out his new parasail, and jumped from the top of the Temple of Time, headed for the Dueling Peaks. It was time to go.

[returnerofthesky]

Okay, this is the first post I’m making as text-with-screenshots-embedded, mainly because this was such an incredibly cool moment that I absolutely do not want to spoil it on anyone that might be going into this game blind. If you want to play the game without knowing about any of its bigger surprises, don’t read this post!

Anyway, I ended up deciding to explore north of Hateno this evening, mainly because the painter in Kakariko had pointed me up towards Mount Lanayru to find one of the memories. I ended up taking the long route... mainly because I didn’t realize how quickly you could get there from the Great Fairy Fountain. Besides, this way I found some Korok seeds and other stuff and it was fun.

It was a long trip up to the mountains, and by the time I actually got up there it was late evening - it was snowy, it was storming, and there was a red-maned Lynel hanging about. So I snuck away from it, took out a red Hinox instead, and then went around it entirely. Gathered up plenty of Chillshrooms and Wildberries, and then after trekking through the snowstorm, it finally got so cold that even the warm doublet didn’t help. Thankfully, downing a strong Spicy Elixir I’d made a long time ago did. I guess the effects stack!

What ended up ensuing was equal parts a mess of a battle and beating a hasty retreat, since the trip up the mountain was a mess of Chuchus, Big Chuchus, and camouflaged Blue Lizalfos. I killed a number of them, either with spear or with a very powerful Guardian Sword++ I’d salvaged from an earlier major combat shrine, but overall I kept running away from them to save time - the elixir was only 15 minutes or something like that, after all!

It was slow going at times, particularly because of the snow itself, which seems to restrict movement somewhat? It was interesting, and I hadn’t noticed it before, but I imagine there’s probably snow-pants or something as an upgrade for it. I’d have downed a hasty tonic or something but I think it would have overridden the cold resistance.

So I finally make my way up to the peak of Mount Lanayru, headshotting the few hidden Lizalfos I could find and using up plenty of arrows along the way, and what awaits me at the top? A memory? Ore veins? Treasure...?

...oh, holy shit.

I’d expected a shrine, I’d expected a memory, but I hadn’t expected anything, anything, like this.

As it turns out, this is the Spring of Wisdom, and it was guarded by Naydra (who gives the Naydra Snowfield their name, surprise, surprise). Unfortunately, Naydra had been coated head-to-tail in Malice, and thus had been severely weakened and needed help. I’d heard about Malice before in other cutscenes, but this was my first encounter in gameplay proper, so it was an interesting task. In the end, I notched an arrow to the string, and shot the closest eyeball I could reach.

Then, Naydra left her perch and began to fly around, mainly circling around the peak. So, I ended up climbing up above the spring proper to get a better vantage point, shooting off two more eyes as it made a pass. It was actually surprisingly difficult to land the shots correctly, mainly due to Naydra’s speed and the drop distance of the arrows themselves. I went from, like, 80+ arrows before this adventure to 20 when I was done. Make of that what you will.

Either way, after nailing the two more Malice blobs and de-gunking them, Naydra made one last pass... but the eyes had closed and were invulnerable. Naydra didn’t seem to care - she just swooped down towards one of the lower mountains, leaving a massive updraft behind in her wake. I was a bit nervous, and pretty much running on “forget it, let’s give it a shot and see how it goes” at this point, but...

I moved back a bit, sprinted forward... and flew. And flew, and flew and flew, until I was above Naydra and could pull off a mid-air bow shot on another one of the Malice blobs. I ended up needing to down a stamina-boosting kebab in order to stay flying afterwards, but thankfully it helped more than it hurt, since then Naydra flew down to the snowfield itself.

I was almost there, and I knew it, so I glided down to her tail, where the last big, ugly eyeball was hanging off of. Dropping down, I took aim and fired - and that was that. I accidentally got swatted by her tail on the way down afterward, but thankfully I didn’t need to worry about the trip back up to the spring.

In the end, with the major Malice globules gone, Naydra was able to shake off the rest of the goop, returning to her former glory on the trip back up to the mountain. I ended up stumbling back to the shrine and being spoken to by the Goddess Statue, and then I shot one final arrow into the dragon’s body in order to get one of its scales. Then, I offered the scale to the spring as it instructed... and it turns out that there was a shrine all the way up here, all along.

And that was that. I got a Frostspear from the chest - it’s hanging in my house as a memento of the adventure. By the time I got the spirit orb from the monk the hyperfocus had worn off and I’d just realized what I’d pulled off, and so then I ended up swooping down from the mountain in excitement, flying my way down to and past the snowfields, all the way to the gate leading into them. And, as it turns out, that’s where the memory was after all.

...it was the memory of the moment Ganon awakened.

On a less dramatic note, it’s equal parts fascinating and indescribably exciting how cool this was to stumble onto. I 100% had no idea what I was in for, aside from the fact that I expected this to be a high-level area because of the Lynels hanging around the early bits. It was tough, but manageable tough, and in a lot of ways it kind of feels fitting that I made it all the way here after the past few days of doing smaller explorations and adventures.

The fact that the peak of the mountain housed another one of the Dragons, of all things, was a legitimate shock, and the fact that I was able to finish its “boss battle” was a triumphant moment that rivals only a few other moments I’ve ever had when playing games (the most recent comparizon was beating Star Magician when underleveled in Dark Dawn, back in 2014). It’s curious to see a boss like this in an open-world game, in all honesty, and it’s a great showcase of how good the game’s core mechanics are.

Most bosses in open-world games are either just tweaked versions of normal enemies (see: every bandit boss, draugr boss and all the other boring junk in Skyrim dungeons) or are just larger enemies running on extremely simplistic AI (see: Skyrim dragons). They rarely get any kind of really unique or memorable boss area, and it’s usually just like fighting any other enemy, just with more health and more spongeyness. It’s simple to program and set up, but just not memorable or interesting as a player. It’s hard to think of them as boss fights.

Naydra’s fight, on the flipside, felt like a completely new experience. Granted, you’re technically not even fighting it, but it feels very much like a “boss fight” all the same; it has multiple phases where it takes a couple hits and then the fight moves to a new arena (kind of reminiscent of MGR’s Mistral, actually), but in this case you actively have to chase it using the tools at your disposal, using the updraft and the wind it creates to get high above it and making sure you have enough stamina, or stamina-restoring/-boosting food, to pull it off.

Despite how much I’ve accomplished so far, I still felt very much “underleveled” (for lack of a better term) for this fight, and yet with some good luck and good aim, I pulled it off. Definitely another highlight for the record books, right up there with the Lost Woods. This game continues to surprise me with discoveries and adventures at every turn, and that’s something that I haven’t seen in a game in a long, long time.

What an amazing game this is.

[hikarilighty]

The Beginning of how I became one of the top Mages in this world.

Today is just a normal day… for normal people but not to me.

Looking in awe at the beautiful and tallest building that's in the middle of this town— Ice Nation, and which means, yes, it's in the middle of this tall snowy mountains.

I placed both of my hands in front of my lips and blew hot breath on it. It's really cold, even with my thick clothes, beanie, gloves and of course, scarf so my neck wouldn't be hurt by the cold. It's just September, and the start of enrollment to this Academy, the number one Academy of our country.

When I said it's the number one, what I mean is, it really is. All those famous people who are known as defeating evils are from this Academy. However, the passing rate of the entrance exam is only 0.97%, since the examination is divided by two: one for written, one for practical. I don't have knowledge of what the practical exam will be but I think I'll be able to do it, right?

I blew hot air on my palms again as I started shivering, yet I don't mind it. My dream Academy is right in front of me. And with this Academy, I'm going to reach my dream of becoming one of the top Mages in this country.

Don't mind the cold. It's always snowing here since it's located in the northern part of Earth. The only time it'll stop snowing is when it's summer, of course, but when it's December, you know it. No one could even get out without wearing thick clothes— I mean, thicker than what I'm wearing right now.

And yes, I wanted to become one of the best Mages. Who wouldn't? I wanted to save other people with the powers I've inherited from above… they say that I shouldn't just show this to everyone since it's really a very rare ability coming from our generation today. And also the reason why I couldn't really control it…

But yeah, I wanted to be one of the best Mages in this world. I wanted to be able to save people. I wanted to fight evil creatures and win. I wanted to learn—

I have pushed away when someone suddenly bumped into my back, and thankfully, someone prevents me from falling.

“Don't fucking get in my way, you dumb nerd.” Said by someone, I think the one who bumped into me. I don't know but I shivered at his words. It's too cold, yet his voice is much colder than the atmosphere. I looked at his back as he walked with his hands on his pockets as if he's the ruler of this Academy.

I never even thought that he will… someday.

“Hey! That's rude!” Said by a boy who catches me as he helped me to stand up again. I think he was just walking at the entrance of this school but then, he saw what happened. Or maybe… they're together since they're wearing the same uniforms.

He smiles at me and I saw how innocent and soft his face is. “Don't mind him. He's just so full of himself,” He said as if he knows him already, and he's assuring me with this one.

“Thank you,” I said with a small voice. He smiled at me before he turned his attention to the ash-blond spiky-haired guy— the one looks so delinquent. Unlike him who has a soft face and green hair, who looks like a typical boy next door

“Excuse me,” He said to me before he smiled again as he faced the rude guy again. “Kill! Wait!” As he runs toward the guy who didn't even stop as he continued to walk.

I sighed heavily as I fixed my uniform. It didn't take a while when I saw someone who stopped in front of me. I lifted my eyes as I was dumbfounded at her beauty. Gosh, does a woman like her even existing?

“Hello, I'm Yvonne. Are you new here?” She said so softly that I'm almost mistaken that she's an angel who fell from the sky. I blinked fast to wake myself up as I nodded before giving her a shy smile. That's when I noticed she's wearing a Junior High uniform of this school that my eyes widen in shock.

“I see. Come on, let's go together!” She said smiling and I thought she's just like a shy girl I've ever seen from our school, especially that she's from Junior High Department that I think, she'll also join the entrance class here since this Academy is treating everyone as equally as they are. Even you're from a high ranked Universities, you must still take the entrance exams as how others do.

But yeah, she's so talkative. She told me that she has many strong classmates that will enter thus Academy too, and when I heard strong, I instantly felt low. I don't know but… right, I don't even know how to control my ability, and being with the strong students… I shook my head. It's not as if I'm so sure that I'll pass, right?

I sighed heavily. I think she didn't notice it since she's walking ahead from me, but then, I heard her screamed. “Oh my gosh,  Dashiel!” as she pulled me towards the who faced us when he saw his name being called I think? That I gasped because right now, I'm looking at the man who has half silver hair and half red one!

The guy just looked at her as he nodded, before turning back his attention to the one he's reading at. At those actions, I could clearly see already that he's a snob. Well, having those face of him, even he's snob, for sure women will surely still line up for his attention.

But Yvonne couldn't be stopped. I hope she's aware that she's pulling me. “Have you seen the others? I want to see them now!” That's when her attention goes to me as she was kind of surprised— finally, she remembered she's pulling me! But it didn't take a while when she smiled sheepishly, before turning back her attention to the guy she called Dashiel.

“Dash, remember when you said your types are those who have baby blue eyes? Look at her!” She even pulled me closer to that Dashiel that finally, looked at me as I saw him looking at my eyes. “She's… wait, what's your name again?” Yvonne said that I sighed as I look at her. Yes, you didn't ask my name despite that I've been with you ever since earlier.

“I'm Artemis,” I said so short. I could still feel the stares of the man in front of me but I didn't fully think of it.

It was when we heard the microphone being opened— the sound every time someone picked it. And with that one, we already know that the examination will start.

“Please go to your designated rooms for the written exam. Good luck, future students!” A man behind it said and based on that, I think his ability is sound manipulation since I know everyone heard what he said as they increased their pace towards their designated room is.

“What's your room number?” Yvonne asked me, so I answered her.

“216, how about you?”

“Aww, mine's 209! Those are at the end of the stairways I think! I couldn't accompany you with this one,” She said, pouting. I was about to speak that it was okay when I heard the Dashiel guy speaks.

“We're in the same room. I got her, Yvonne.” He said that made Yvonne looked at him and swear, I think I just saw her eyes became heart-shaped or such, since right now, she's looking at us with malice, and I know that stares since my dorm mates back then had the same expressions when they're teasing someone from us!

Before she cleared her throat. “Okay, gotta go! See you both later!” She said as if she was so sure before she quickly disappeared in our sight that the awkwardness suddenly could've to be felt since I'm with someone I don't know!

“Do you want to stand there forever?” I looked at the guy as I noticed that he even started walking! Oh gosh, seriously… “Let's go,” he said and even his voice seems so cold, colder than our atmosphere, colder than anything.

I followed behind him as I slowly felt really, really low especially I could hear people's appreciation to him, that I learned which maybe he's one of those strong classmates that Yvonne was talking about earlier.

We were both silent, since of course we don't even know each other and I could say that he isn't the type of man who would speak over nonsense, so I just followed behind him and let him lead the way since maybe he knows what path to take, after all, he took Junior High from this Academy.

It didn't take a while since we reached the room, and what could've I say? I couldn't help but be amazed at how beautiful every room is! I know we've been living in the modern world as places here are really modern, clean and advanced. The door quickly opened when our presence was recognized that he entered, which I followed of course.

But since I don't have the plan to sit with him right now— I don't want to be called a thick-faced feeling close girl, I decided to sit at the other end opposite of him, followed by the opening of the door again as I almost gasped when I saw the familiar man earlier! The one with ash-blond hair!

Even from this distance, his scowling face could be noticed that I quickly lowered my head since I saw he's looking for a seat. I didn't notice the man he was with earlier so I just shrugged it, as I continue looking down at below, wishing he didn't notice me. Wishing that no one really noticed me.

But maybe I was entirely wrong when someone stopped in front of my deck as I slowly lifted my head before I felt my blood left my body since looking at me is the evil guy with piercing all over his face as he looked at me as if he belittles me. “Look who's here, a lowly student from that community school. Trash.” He said so harshly to me that I just quickly lowered my head since I came here to took my entrance exam peacefully.

I know that I came from community college, it was because I'm saving my money to pay for everything I'll be needing to pay once I passed my exam in this Academy. Of course, being the top school for Mages, it doesn't mean it's free to study here since there's a dormitory inside that you must pay monthly unless you become one of those who would be given privilege at their scholarship program where you don't have to pay anything. But of course, if ever that I don't become part of it but still pass the examinations, that's already enough for me.

But I think, my peaceful term was really destroyed, since the man in front of me just lifted my head through my hair that made me look at him again forcefully, and in pain. I accidentally closed my eyes tightly to divert some feelings on them. “Hey, I'm talking to you,” He said with an annoyed voice but I couldn't even open my eyes to look at him!

“Move. You're in my way,” We heard the voice, that's when I opened my eyes since the man quickly let go of my hair after hearing that.

As I noticed the man— a big man, is really annoyed as he glared at the man who's staring at him with the same annoyed expression as he is.

“And who do you think you are?” The big man with full face piercing said, that the guy just lifted his brow in proud, as he said those words proudly.

“The Strongest. Have a problem with that, trashed face?” He smirked, and I swear, I think I just saw a demon in human's face especially that I think his bright crimson eyes shined, just like the eyes of anime demons I've been watching.

But the guy's face turned into rage as I saw his hands changing, as there are some coming out of his body. “You—”

Just as when we heard a loud sound, that we all quickly looked in front as I saw someone… a foul-looking guy wearing gothic clothes.

“If you want to fight, don't do it inside the Academy's room.” He said so cold before his eyes turned to the man who used his ability earlier. “And we don't accept students who don't follow a simple rule.” Before he pointed at the words that are printed on a paper, as it is placed at the board, in which, the examination rules are on it.

And number one of it is, Do not use your abilities or you'll get suspended.

“Boy, go out. You're suspended.” He said so simply… and so bored. It was as if he was born when his mother really hates the world.

“But—” The full-faced piercing man said but then, I could feel the temperature changing, as true ash-blond spiky hair man walked as if nothing towards the vacant chair beside me, as I couldn't remove my gaze to the instructor when his eyes— black eyes became red as his hair slowly turning up.

“Or I'll take you out, what do you think about it?”

The full-faced piercing man quickly goes out of the room, as the instructor's face turned back before he started to distribute papers while explaining the rules in his own term.

“1. No use of the ability to cheat.

2. Focus on your paper only.

3. You have an hour and thirty minutes to finish these five hundred questions.

4. No talking.

5. Get out once you're done.

Now, get one then pass.” He said as before he looked around the place. “I'm watching you,” He said but then, he moved a swivel chair towards his back, sat down on it, and then closed his eyes and it didn't take a while that he's now sleeping. Seriously? Too good at watching us.

As I got the paper from the woman who smiled at me, as I started at my own paper as I sighed deeply. This is it. This is the first step towards your dream!

Now, aim high with chin high and smile, Artemis! Don't stop unless you're far from where you started.

As I started my own test, the path towards my dream, and to become one of the number one Mages of this world.