Blood Bond

The dirt compacted easily under my fingers. An earthworm squirmed through them, making me giggle. Meris would surely disapprove.

"Treasure, that's a weed. You should pull it out. But carefully, the roots might be tangled with that Winter's Breath." Father placed his hands over mine and together, we reached past the thorn edged leaves to grab the weed by the stem. Slowly, we began to pull it out.

Father brushed away the crumbling dirt with his large fingers, and inspected the root's veiny, fibrous mass.

"Father, why did you get mad at Theron?"

His light blue eyes met mine, and a gentle smile creased his lips. "I know he means well Treasure, but we can't just take and uproot every misbehaving noble."

He tossed the weed aside and gently patted in the loose soil near the budding plant beside it. "We are High Royals. We lead by example, and virtue. We do not take, else we become the demons themselves."

—

I awoke to a ceiling with a painted tapestry. It was the scene of a hunt, a prairie spreading out to the distant horizon, deers and gladeharts bounding about, a lion lurking in the tall grass, and the back of a hunter with bow drawn, aiming his arrow at an enormous bear rearing up upon its hind legs. I recalled the stuffed gladehart in the study, and then looked at the mirror standing from floor to ceiling. Had they given me the manor lord's room?

Relief filled me as I sat up, rubbing at my chest. The hunger isn't there.

I had gone back and forth all night. Then, just as I was about to relent and surrender to sleep, I made the decision: I would counter the chemo. It wasn't hard: all I had to do was to will my blood to form "keys" that'd fit against the crystals pouring out of the metal, needle, maw. In an instant the torrent was dispersed, the crystals shattered into dust.

I had to do it. I didn't relish the idea of being forced to fill that hunger again. The cancer? Well, I will have to find another way, maybe Blackwood will actually help.

A soft knock, and Meris entered, her usually composed features immediately clouding with concern as she approached the bed. Her gaze dropped to my nightgown, and I didn't need to look down to know what she'd seen. Another ruined garment.

"Your Highness…" she began, her voice tight with worry.

I glanced down. It felt like forever ago, but it was only three days past when there had been that massive cavern in my chest, left behind by that wide blade. The open flesh, split apart like the petals of some mangled flower, the mist of blood spraying forth—all that remained now were a few dried-up dots of red on the cloth. On the right side of my chest, however, where Jarlen's ice spike had impaled me, there was a larger, angrier splotch of red, still wet, as if the wound had wept through the night. These injuries, they refused to let me forget.

"It's alright, Meris," I said, trying to keep my voice even, like my mother always did. "It's just something I have to deal with now."

Meris's lips thinned. The wrinkles upon her forehead deepened, but she said nothing more on the matter. Wordlessly, she helped me from the bed, assisting me with a basin of warm water and a soft cloth to towel my chest clean.

When the darkly stained cloth had been peeled away, it once again revealed my unblemished skin, pale and smooth where at least a scar should be. Meris' scowl deepened even more. Her dark green eyes looked at me and I returned her gaze, holding it. A breath, deep and heavy, escaped me. This is what I am now.

Wordless, she finished wiping me clean and helped me into a fresh, simple, dark blue dress. Then a comfortable silence settled between us as she went through the routine of brushing my hair. The only sound being the steady, rhythmic pull of the comb's teeth through the long strands.

My thoughts turned to Kael. That wound on his stomach—had it finally stopped bleeding? Would it be forever tied to me? In any case, why isn't he here? My eyes drifted over to the empty spot where he should be standing.

With Meris a shadow a few steps back, I left the room, and made my way towards the manor's courtyard in search of Kael. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. Stonehand's men were already hard at it, their morning drills echoing with the rhythmic clang of steel and guttural commands. Their intensity matched that of the recruits I had seen training under Master Steffan, except that kind of fervor was usually reserved for the ramp-up to Soul Seeding day. Do they train this hard everyday?

One of the men leading the drills turned to me. Tall and ash-haired, with a scar slashing across his right cheek, I instantly recognized him as one of the officers flanking Stonehand last night. He grinned that wry, twisted grin of his at me again. This time, I decided to just incline my head, to which he surprisingly responded with a salute of a fist to his right chest and a half bow. He then turned back to his men.

The ground shuddered with such force that it threatened to knock me off my feet. It was a familiar sensation and none of Stonehand's men reacted. A sharp clang of metal against metal rang out from a far corner of the courtyard, followed by another, and then a rapid series of them.

The sound drew me in. It was a familiar din of violence, the same percussive, forceful rhythm I'd heard when Astrid and Cassian had sparred in the temple courtyard—flashing steel, hers wreathed in flame and his in shadow, clashing against each other. Even from this distance, I could make out Stonehand's mountainous figure, his fist raised before slamming onto the ground, sending another shudder rumbling towards us—Earthquake, his Earth Juggernaut skill. Below him stood a much smaller figure, facing him defiantly even though he was just a dot from this far: Kael.

As I closed in on them, I realized Stonehand was wielding Grief-Giver! Thankfully, no fire or lightning raged along its fearsome blade, which I desperately hoped meant its two powerful and enigmatic runes were currently inactive; but the axe still gleamed sharp and deadly under the glaring sun. Kael met him with his own longsword, wisps of white vapor rising like chilled breath from the crystalline layer of ice that coated its length.

Stonehand surged forward, a spinning whirlwind of axe blade, fist, elbow, and pure, brutish momentum. Kael, however, planted his boots firmly, sword ready in a defensive slant across his chest. As the Juggernaut charged, serpents of ice erupted from the earth beneath Kael, snaking around his legs, up to his chest, encasing him in shimmering, translucent armor.

I was connected to the thrum of my blood flowing within both of them. Their blood was rushing toward their Soul Seeds, which began to glow as they drew essence from that blood--Stone's green and Kael's blue. The blood kept rushing in until their Soul Seeds became blinding. They were going all out!

As if compelled by an unseen force, I stepped forward to stop them, but a bony set of fingers gripped my shoulder firmly. "Let them hone themselves, Your Highness," Meris's voice stated flatly from behind me, her grip pulling me back. "They both know their limits."

CHASM! ICE PLATE! GROUND SURGE! BLADE SWARM!

The names of abilities reverberated out of their Soul Seeds in quick succession. The crystals pulsated, each call of a name sending out waves of magical energy, and then it'd darken, drawing in another rush of blood essence before exploding again with the call of the next ability. Stone shattered ice, sending black frost into the air. It fell upon us like glimmering, dirty snow.

Meris pulled me back a few more steps as the intensity escalated. I watched their fight with rapt fascination, observing from both outside, with my physical eyes, and inside, through my blood in them. I could hear the names pulsating out of their Soul Seeds, yet I didn't truly know these abilities. I hadn't plumbed the depths of their minds to take them, nor did I wish to.

Stolen story; please report.

But I had done so with the Air-affinity Assassin, the pale blue-eyed elf who I'd killed. I had dug through his mind and taken his skills. I had experienced the knowledge of abilities through him, and known them as if I were him.

Stonehand roared, Grief-Giver shrieking through the air. A dome of jagged ice erupted before Kael, deflecting the axe with a sharp, resonant THWAP that sprayed glittering shards everywhere. Kael swept around the edge of his dissolving barrier and hurled an ice spike that exploded into white powder against Stonehand's armored forearm.

Shroud Step. I focused on my—his—knowledge of that ability, recalling with an eerie clarity all my days of relentless training to perfect it—the punishing runs up sheer mountain paths, the endless repetition of movement forms I had to master until they were instinct. Then I focused on the name, the way he had focused his thoughts when calling it forth from his Soul Seed.

Shroud Step.

My blood rushed toward my own aberration of a Soul Seed, that none crystal—the deep red sphere. It glowed darkly red as it drew essence from the incoming blood, and then: release.

All over my body, muscles spasmed and contracted in strange, unfamiliar sequences, jerking my limbs this way and that. My body didn't know this ability, even if my mind did.

My hand cranked upward on its own, the muscles of my palm cramping violently, pulling my fingers inward into a claw-like shape.

"Your Highness!" Meris cried out in alarm, her hand tightening on my shoulder. But I wasn't paying attention to her. My focus was on my clawed hand—its outline, for a breathtaking instant, had just blurred.

Before Meris could say more, a deafening CRACK echoed across the courtyard, yanking my attention from my now fully solid hand. I looked up just in time to see Kael flying backward, the translucent armor around his torso shattering into a thousand pieces as Grief-Giver finally connected. Kael landed hard in the dirt, sprawling on his back with a pained grunt, his sword rolling with a clang a few feet away.

The drills of the other soldiers faltered, all eyes turning to the spectacle. Stonehand stood over Kael, breathing heavily but looking no worse for wear, his axe resting on his shoulder. He let out a short, gruff laugh. "Good hold, boy. You lasted a while, but you still got a ways to go."

Kael pushed himself up onto his elbows, a grimace of frustration and dirt on his face. He stared at his empty hand, then at Stonehand looming over him.

"Yes, thank you for this bout." He slapped the ground once with his palm before getting up.

The officer with the scar barked an order, and the sounds of training resumed in the background.

My eyes fell back down to my hand, still tingling from its brief blurring, and then to my chest, where blood had splotched in the morning. My power is strange and powerful, but it doesn't keep me from getting hurt. That's two times now where I should have died. The thought was a cold, hard stone in my stomach. I gently removed Meris's hand from my shoulder and stepped forward, approaching the two men as they caught their breath.

"That was impressive," I said, choosing my words carefully. Both men turned to me, surprised. I nodded to each of them in turn. "Your strength is undeniable, Lord Stonehand. And Kael, your skill and technique are remarkable, as always."

Kael's face looked even more sour at the compliment. He wiped sweat from his brow. "Your Highness, I—"

"I want you to teach me," I stated, cutting him off before he could launch into a formal protest. My gaze went from him to Stonehand. "Either of you. Or both. I need to learn how to fight."

Kael's flustered look immediately morphed into one of alarm. "Absolutely not, Your Highness," he said, stepping forward as if to shield me from the very idea. "My duty is to protect you. You need not ever raise a hand yourself. That is my purpose."

Stonehand, who had been watching our exchange with an amused glint in his sun-flared eyes, let out a deep, chest-shaking laugh. He gave me a long, appraising look, his gaze taking in my simple dress and my half-raised hand, now closed into a fist, before it locked onto mine.

"No, girl," he snorted, as he crossed his thick arms. "You're scary enough as is."

—

The refusals from both Kael and Stonehand still stung, but that didn't change what I needed to do. Mother and Father, Astrid and everyone else, they are still in danger. I need to get to them. I found Stonehand near the stables as his men made their final preparations to depart, his massive form a stark silhouette against the rising sun.

"Lord Stonehand," I called out, my voice clear, cutting through the morning bustle. "We need to talk before we leave. A council, if you will."

He let out a short, gruff sound, half-laugh as he strapped a leather pack to his mount. "Oh yes, that thing you were so insistent on last night." He gestured with his chin towards a quiet, stone-walled alcove away from the noise of the main courtyard.

Without waiting for me, he simply strode to the spot and leaned against the cold stone, crossing his thick arms over his chest. Meris followed behind me as I walked over to him. He merely glanced at her before setting his eyes back on me.

"I know what you want to say to me, girl, but let's make two things clear." He held up two thick fingers. "One, you're coming with me to the Keep no matter what. And two, I'm not turning back on the path we've taken."

A protest was on my lips but he held up a hand.

"It's not just a promise to the boy. But you can help at the keep. Don't you wish to see your parents again, and the Chosen, your sister, yes?" There was something in the way he looked at me that I didn't quite like. "You needn't worry about the others. You'll be in my charge. No one will touch you, not even those elves. After all, the forces of Ironfell rival those of Rodinar. We're the two largest armies in this campaign."

He watched me, letting his words sink in. "Just hear out the boy, Princess. You can do what you will afterwards."

That's not the problem! I wanted to scream at him. Tears and desperation weighed upon my eyes. "You won't turn against the usurpers? What they… what you did isn't right!"

Stonehand's eyes lit up as he towered over me, and Meris stepped in front of me. "Right?!" he boomed. "Is it right for Aethelgard to stand idly by while the world around it burns?"

"We can't force all the kingdoms to stop! That isn't our purpose!"

"No? I remember surveying the remains of our last war—village after village, all razed to the ground. All but one building. Do you know what it was?"

I clutched at my chest as a tightness gripped my heart.

"The temples of Aethelgard," Stonehand answered, his eyes still burning with fire. "From here out to the furthest reaches, there is a temple in every settlement, from soaring cities to rundown villages, each holding a shard of the Wardstone. None would raise a hand against them. Because how else would people get their Soul Seeds? Everyone needs their abilities and their spells."

He stepped up toward me, causing Meris to back into me. "Do you see the problem here? You all hold in your hands the key to bringing all the realms in line, and yet, you did nothing but watch as village after village burned. You are the center of the realms, but you just sit here and squander the power that is your responsibility to wield. That is what we will rectify." He slammed a fist into his palm, the meaty smack reverberating in the quiet alcove. "I will see it through, no matter the cost."

I won't back down, I can't. "And what of afterwards? Don't tell me it will all be peaceful once everything is settled. You all are enemies, are you not?"

Stonehand's lips twisted into a slanted grin. "I'm under no illusions, girl. Debts will be settled, especially with those elves, and moves will be made. After all, there is a lot of power to be had."

His eyes, I suddenly realized, were the eyes of a predator—not wild, but cold and cunning. Behind the loud, boorish words, the rumbling laughter, and all the drinking was a calculating mind, moving pieces on the board with an unseen hand: I was one of them.

"But one or two flames still beats having the entire field alight. And after that there will be one to keep the peace." He finished as he straightened up. Meris's body seemed to sag in relief.

"Power corrupts, And absolute power corrupts absolutely," I repeated the saying.

My mind flashed back to the garden, to Father's words as he patted down the soil. Then, another set of images, harsher, from a history of my other world: Napoleon, bringing order from revolutionary chaos only to crown himself Emperor. Tokugawa, unifying a warring nation through an iron-fisted, absolute control. Caesar, crossing the Rubicon to save the republic, only to bury it and birth a dictatorship.

"We rule by example and virtue, or else we become the demons ourselves!" I repeated my father's words.

Stonehand's head snapped back to me, anger flaring in his eyes again. "Tell that to those refugees you were staring so pitifully at before. Tell that to the dead in their burned-out homes. They cared not whether it was demon or human hands that wronged them. There are limits to virtue, Princess."