9/ Latent Emergence

Avira peeled open her eyelids to the sight of a plain field alongside a bordering wood. Cotton-like clouds dwelt high on the bright blue sky as the sun shone its rays onto the earth. The pop of green in the forest was fresh and lively, a cool inviting hue. Somewhere nearby a bird answered the call of its mate with a shrill cry. The vast expanse of nature took her breath away. Avira drank in the peaceful landscape with eager eyes. She felt the urge to spread out her arms to embrace the cool refreshing wind and lounge to the bright rays.

Yet, deep inside, the surreal view seemed too breathtaking. Too serene.

Finally some part of her voiced her fears. This isn't real. The thought rocketed her from the beauty before her. Only then did she realize that the sunlight didn't touch her skin with warmth. She couldn't even feel anything but the chill of the land. The leaves remained motionless as the lazy wind blew against it. Everything was still. The heavy silence felt pregnant with anticipation. Her eyes widened. This is an illusion.

As though triggered by her thoughts, a swift roar echoed through the land. Her gaze shot upwards only to see a dark wave of arrows arching to the sky. She stiffened at the sight, unable to process the danger immediately. It looked like a flock of ravens soaring for the sun. Suddenly the arrows veered downwards and came hurtling for the earth. 

Her senses kicked in. Closer they came, ready to plunge deep into her flesh, as she shifted into a defensive stance and clenched her fists, drawing her power from the pendant. Just as they were a few feet above, her hands shot outward to the oncoming tide before slicing the air, as though parting the air around her. Arrows sank deep into the soil all around her, leaving her unmarked. She glanced at the field of deathly shafts before fixing her gaze on the wood. The distance seemed to have lengthened in-between them.

The heavy footfalls stamped on the ground as soldiers charged at her with drawn weapons. She didn't think. Whisking her arms skyward, she formed an invisible wall between her and her attackers. Those at the first line of attack crashed into the barrier with a force that drew blood from their noses. More hit against it while others slowed, confused at the sight of their bewildered comrades. Finally they realized there was a partition before them blocking their path. Before they could attempt to go around it, she visualized two more shields on their sides and one behind them, efficiently trapping them in a large transparent box. Immediately they banged against the enclosure, as though the attempt would free them.

Avira stared at them. Men and very few women glared back at her with a ferocity that made her heart clench. Of course they hated her. They saw the Arcane as a curse among men, a disease from the depths of Efrir that plagued mankind. They looked at her as a monster, a danger to all.

She didn't want to— it was the last thing she wanted—but even in the illusion, Avira could feel the expectant gazes on her back. It wasn't what she desired, but when had she ever done anything of her own free will?

Avira called upon her magic and flexed her fingers. The effect was instantaneous. One by one the soldiers crumpled to the ground, streaks of blood running down their eyes, noses and ears. Instinctively, she raised her arms and focused on her victims but the effort sucked on her strength. 

Her hands shook. She was using more of her power than she had in her life on these many people at once. There were almost two hundred present, maybe more. Extending her reach was straining and the effort was digging hard at her. Her vision wavered for a moment and the wall to the back disappeared. Those who felt the barrier evaporate rushed out of the confinement to hide in the trees. Avira swallowed hard. Gathering her strength she steadied herself and reached out to the escaping assailants. She grabbed at them and forced them to the ground with a might strong enough to break their spines and paralyze them instantly.

The walls crumbled into nothingness as she propped her arms on her thighs. Her breath came heavily through parted lips. Her muscles were shaking in sync with her mental weariness. She felt her magic drain at an alarming rate. The urge to collapse on the spot was overbearing while her vision blurred with each passing second.

In the midst of her weakening state, her thoughts drifted to King Brannon. She knew he was watching her falter. Already she could sense the barely leashed rage fill his gaze, and if he were visible to her, he would be giving the order to Maester Enzar. Her heart jumped in a panic. The wages of failure was punishment. Even now she endured the cursed blade running upon her skin, digging into her flesh, scorching her blood like acid in a wound. 

Yet something warned her that the dagger was not the only torment he could inflict on her. Something unraveled within the darkest corners of her mind. A memory, a dream, a nightmare, an illusion, her imagination? She didn't know and wasn't left any time to ponder. Immediately the vision overcame her.

Waves crashed down upon her, massive black waters swirling around her. The currents roiled hungrily as they forced their way into her frame. She choked on it as they filled her every limb and suffocated her. The darkness was so overwhelming that all she could do was get tossed along with its violent dance. They surrounded her, squeezing against her till she could feel the chill of death clinging to her back...

Avira's eyes snapped open with a gasp. Icy chills sank their teeth deep into the marrow, pumping through her veins with her blood. Her mind was swept into a cold haze unlike any she had ever experienced, leaving nothing in its wake but a fierce hunger. She shivered, though it wasn't due to the ice flooding her arteries. Her throat went dry. She parted her lips as she inhaled deeply. Feeding on the air, on the soft breeze laden with blood and sweat and fear. As the coppery tang coated her tongue, a razor-sharp smile cracked her dry lips.

She thirsted for death, craved for blood.

And she would get it.

Her eyes pierced the first breathing man she saw. As still as the wind, she sent her power into him, threading the magic in winding twists around his body. Three things happened simultaneously: he was jerked upright into the air, he let out a skin-crawling shriek before his arms and legs were ripped from his body and flung to the ground. Blood spurted from the openings and deafening screams arose. Avira's smile widened, letting thin films of blood trickle down from her cracked lips.

More blood. A skin-crawling voice whispered to her. More pain. More death.

Avira relented, slaughtering more people as the voice urged her on with an inhuman whisper. One by one, the soldiers were torn apart, slowly sweeping over every conscious person. Her eyes grew wild with sadistic glee, losing herself in the bloodletting. A tiny voice echoed her morality's conscience but it was overcome by the ferocity of the demanding susurration. Kill. Kill them. Kill them all...

Everything vanished.

Avira collapsed onto the cold stone floor in a heap. Her legs curled to her chest as her body spasmed and shook. Her lungs clenched tightly, preventing any intake of breath. They pinched harder in her chest that it became painful to move. Her heart thumped erratically against her ribs. Lips parted to suck in air but only a harsh croak arose. Her vision faltered and blurred at the edges as the lack of oxygen took its toll. She fought off the growing darkness before finally relenting.

This is it. After all the harm she had brought onto people, the Spirits were finally enacting vengeance for the lives she had taken. It was her time to pay the debts she owed to them. A strange sense of peace subdued her mind. She didn't care if she lived. Someone like her deserved death, and she welcomed it with open arms. Life seemed meaningless if she was to obey a ruthless man's commands and kill for food. Better her life ended than she lived on. Despite the pain in her ribcage, a small smile formed at her lips. May death

Distantly, she felt long slender hands rest atop her chest. Warmth pooled beneath those palms and it blanketed her body. Her muscles stopped convulsing as her heart tamed. Instantly her lungs relaxed. Her eyes shot open as she sucked in a lungful of air before choking on it. She sat up and coughed violently into her hand. Wheezing, she slumped against something while she fought for composure.

Her muscles shook with overbearing exhaustion, making her go limp against whatever she was reclined upon. Her limbs became bags of water, sagging flaccidly beside her. Eyelids bowed and her breath came in heaving gasps, as though she had run for miles. Slowly her eyes shut, making her rely on her hearing.

Whatever she leaned on shifted. Mind jumbled, it took a while to realize she was slouched against a person. They held her close before standing up, carrying her in their arms like a child.

"What just happened?" a nearby voice asked. It sounded familiar but Avira couldn't recall his name through the fog of fatigue,

"It was her Shayan power." The cool voice belonging to whoever was carrying her instantly earned a face in her mind's eye. King Brannon.

"Have you ever encountered that before?" After a mental struggle, Avira realized it was the Aserian King.

"No." His voice held a tint of awe as he replied. "Never. This is its first outburst."

"But what caused it?"

"I do not know. But we will have to find out. High Maester?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Ensure she gets to her chambers and rests. Tomorrow we will attempt to recreate the scene and see if we can trigger the power once again." Even with closed eyes and a hazy mind, Avira could picture the expression on his face just by the tone of his voice. Power-hungry eyes bearing excitement. A cold smile set on his lips. "After all this time, after all the exercises we have carried out, we are one step closer to uncovering the Shayan abilities. Once we do, we will have already won the war."

King Brannon's fingers tightened their hold over her unconsciously, making her wince slightly. Taking slow even breaths, Avira pried open her eyelids and found the King gazing down at her. His eyes sent cold dread coursing through her veins.

"Can you walk?" he murmured softly, his voice too gentle for a cold-blooded monster like him.

Avira didn't want him to hold her any longer than he already had. Nodding her assent, she braced herself as he lowered her to her feet with a tenderness she couldn't associate with him. The room spun for a few seconds, making her grip on his arm tighten momentarily. As her vision came into focus, her grasp loosened. The urge to move away from him forced her to shuffle away. In mid-step her legs quivered before giving way beneath her. Instead of falling she found herself propped upright by King Trestan. He motioned for someone then she was held up by two guards. After a quick glance, she saw none of the dead in the illusion were here, though she knew they had been real. As for where they were, she didn't know.

King Brannon's mouth opened before snapping shut. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, expression darkening. His jaw clenched as his lips pinched to a hard line.

"My lord?" Maester Enzar began before he was silenced by a single finger.

Avira watched in confusion as the King's eyes closed. The air around his frame glowed crystal blue, his aura pulsing to life. With a start, she felt his power bubble and grow before spreading outwardly. The feel of his power left an odd sensation akin to needles prancing about in her mind and body. Suddenly, the answer popped into her mind. He was scanning the castle with his presence. Something was wrong.

The Aserian King's face hardened. He, Avira supposed, had also sensed the problem. By his expression, it was a threat.

"Someone is in the castle," King Brannon finally informed.

A crease formed on Maester Enzar's forehead. "What do you mean, my lord?"

"I can feel an unauthorized presence within the castle walls," he growled.

The High Maester's brows shot up, uncharacteristically shocked. "But how? The place is surrounded by shield and barriers."

Avira could see the cold rage behind his eyes. "I don't know but they made it past the shields."

"I can feel him too," King Trestan added. "I don't know how I missed his presence."

"Nor do I." The Norlain King straightened. "But he will not make it out alive." Shooting a glance at Avira, he gestured to the guards. "Take her back to her quarters and stand guard at her doors. I've informed the Master of Guard of the situation. They are searching for the intruder as we speak." Turning to King Trestan, he told him, "Come, you Grace. Let us welcome our uninvited guest."

With that Avira was dragged out of the large room and into the winding maze. It took all her will power not to collapse. Weariness weighed in her shoulders, forcing her onto the edge of consciousness. After a long walk they finally approached her room. The promise of sleep was enough to drive her to the door.

A yelp made everyone spin around.

One of the four guards lay on the ground. Whether dead or alive, she couldn't say. Beside him stood a tall figure with a long dark green cloak draped over his shoulders. Through the fold of the hood she could see light brown eyes peering at them.

The guards freed their swords from the scabbard and two of them charged at him. Faster than she could blink, the hooded man dodged the oncoming attacks and swept the men of their feet before knocking them unconscious with deadly speed. The sentry beside her moved back uncertainly before mustering the courage to face his opponent. With a cry, he ran at him and slashed the air. The man swerved, grabbed his hand in a painful grip that forced the sword out of his hands before kicking him aside. There he lay, groaning weakly in pain.

Avira's green eyes widened as she supported herself against the wall. She shuffled back dubiously. She knew a swipe of her power could fling him away but she was too drained and weak to retaliate. It left her stepping away from the cloaked figure. Then he spoke.

"If you want your freedom, I suggest you come with me."