Dual Wielding

The snow crunched beneath the woman's feet as she staggered through the darkened streets. A few lamps cast a soft warm glow over the streets, where winter had fallen in uneven patches on the ground. She was panting, her face tight, looking as though she would collapse at any moment, but something drove her forward.

She looked back the way she'd come, her breath fogging. The streets of Liresil were quiet, and there wasn't anyone near.

Wyn waved his hands in front of her face, but she didn't acknowledge him at all. It was odd, but he couldn't feel the cold. When he took a step, he made no sound, and when he breathed, the air didn't fog. He thought it must be some sort of dream, and yet it was stranger.

Which meant he was probably on the right track.

"Why?"

Suddenly, a man was beside him, and Wyn's breath caught. Though the man himself was someone he didn't recognize, he had the same golden glow in his eyes that had possessed Wyn's father back in his first dream.

"You're Haoma, aren't you?"

But the man offered no reply, looking instead at the woman, who was struggling onwards. She stumbled as her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto the street.

"Answer me Nasrin, why would you do this?" he asked again. "After everything, you betray us now?"

Wyn's eyes widened. Nasrin? As in Sepal Nasrin? He looked at her again, and could faintly see the resemblance to her sister even through the years. Her skin was sickly and pale, and her light blue eyes, which might've once sparkled like the surface of a lake, were dulled and weary.

She looked up at Haoma, and regret flickered on her face for a moment, before it was replaced with a look of contentment.

A dry chuckle escaped her lips. "Don't pretend to be so foolish Sir. You may not… be human…but you surely understand."

Haoma's face was stolid, but beneath his feet, roots cracked up through the stone, growing with unrelenting force. "If a traveler comes seeking the lantern, you know what will happen."

"No," she shook her head, then glanced once more the way she'd come. "They won't find her, I've made sure of it."

"Have you forgotten I am here?"

"Of course not," Nasrin coughed. "But you'll tell them I sent it off beyond your reach."

"And why would I do such a thing?" Haoma's voice carried genuine curiosity.

She just smiled up at him softly, then rolled onto her back, eyes growing dimmer. The snow fell, catching the lamplight. She reached one trembling hand up as if to touch the flakes as they tumbled down.

"It's beautiful… isn't it?" she whispered. "A gift that I could only appreciate at the end. Only as I gave it away."

Haoma's gaze was unreadable. "It was not yours to give. You forsook your oath for a fleeting, selfish desire."

Nasrin closed her eyes, but a single tear escaped, running down her pale cheeks. "No. It was a wish, and a hope…"

"And if the consequence of that wish is the world's doom? That is what you would have me risk. I will speak the truth when they ask, and this folly of yours will be corrected."

Nasrin didn't answer. Her breaths were shallower now, white mist rising from her lips in an uneven rhythm. Finally, they parted just a little more, moving silently, and Wyn was only able to make out a few words.

"... you will live…"

The last of her strength left her, and the sepal's body grew limp.

Wyn couldn't bring himself to speak, and he found his own eyes damp. He watched as Haoma stood there, staring down at Nasrin's body, as though all the time in the world could pass, and he could remain rooted to that spot.

"People often think of humans and spirits as distinct. But in truth, it is you who shape us, breathing life into formless energies so that we can begin to develop on our own. It is no surprise then that some of us would take on the same characteristics of our creators."

Wyn spun around as a voice spoke behind him. Haoma's eyes once again greeted him, though this time in the form of his own father.

"At least, that's what someone said to me once, a long time ago. I thought he was wrong then, but now… I am not so sure. Hello Wyn, it is good to properly meet you."

Wyn glanced back at the dream behind him, only to realize that the world seemed to have stopped around them, even the snowfall was frozen in the air. He turned back to Haoma, gathering himself. This was why he'd done this in the first place.

He bowed. "Great one, would you be so kind as to change forms? Seeing you as my father is… disconcerting."

"Ah, so that is how I appear to you?" His form broke into shards of green-gold light, then pulled back together a moment later, this time taking on the form he'd used in the dream.

"Thank you, great one." Wyn bowed again.

"I imagine you have some questions? You humans always do."

Wyn swallowed, trying to adjust to the strange atmosphere. He hadn't known what to expect when trying to contact Haoma. "What is this?" He gestured to the world around them.

Haoma glanced around, the glow in his eyes diminishing slightly. "A memory."

"I don't understand, this feels different from the last time."

"So it is. The solstice grows closer, I am more awake, and our bond is stronger than before."

"Sepal Nasrin…" Wyn looked back. He thought of the guildmistress. "What happened to her? Did she really betray her duties?"

Haoma stared at him for a moment. "Is my sister well?"

Wyn frowned. "Iillia? I believe so, why?"

"You don't know as much as you should."

"My time with her was limited. She said she expended a great deal of energy?"

Haoma nodded slowly. "The five of us are bound by our pact. Much as I am restricted most of the year, so too are the others limited in their own reach. Even now, this conversation drains me. We do not have long—the energy I spend here only weakens me against his corruption."

"Can I purify you?" Wyn asked. "Spirit fire… if I give you some—"

"Impossible." Haoma's refusal was flat. "This connection is too tenuous. The tree is something like a shell. The poison infecting me is insidious, reaching for the deepest parts of my soul. If you reach the sanctum, then perhaps."

"And where is that?"

"You'll understand when you wake from this dream. For now, there are more important things we must discuss, aren't there?"

Stolen novel; please report.

Wyn tilted his head. "There are?"

"Spirit fire. I'm certain you must have questions if my sister was unable to tell you much."

That's right, Wyn realized. He'd almost forgotten the whole reason he'd been searching for Haoma in the first place.

"This blessing of mine—it's not a normal blessing is it? My bond seems to think it's special, having a purpose, and that we must keep it secret. So tell me Haoma, what is the truth?"

Haoma stood still, looking at Wyn for a long moment. "Truth is an ambiguous concept. Humans—no, even we spirits—often speak of truth as an absolute good. However, there are some truths you cannot know, Wyn of Straetum, poisoned truths that even your blessing cannot purge. Then, there are the truths I cannot speak, for to do so would break oaths of my own. No… I can no more tell you everything than a gardener can tell his tree how to grow. You are a sapling, one that must be watered and nurtured, and left to grow on its own."

"So you're saying you won't tell me anything?" Wyn crossed his arms. "Why'd Iillia even send me to you then?"

"Because amongst those many truths I cannot say, are the seeds of those I can." Haoma waved his hand, and the scene around them vanished, replaced by another.

The branches of the tree still hung overhead, but they were much smaller now—a mere sapling compared to the tree that he'd grown used to. The city had vanished too, replaced by a small few wooden buildings and a worn footpath leading up the hill. The ravine to the south was nowhere to be seen, and a massive sword, larger than a tree, had been rammed into the ground nearby, its blade caked in rust. Wyn wondered what could have possibly wielded such a blade.

A man and woman walked up the hill, laughing about something as they approached. The man towered over her, though his frame was quite boney. The woman had flaming red hair, speaking of heritage in the burning isles, but Wyn had no idea who either of them were. They carried with them three items—a large golden wheel with eight spokes, a silver mirror, inlaid with amethyst gemstones, and a bronze lantern with a glowing green flame inside.

"Your blessing is one of three," Haoma said as the scene played out, devoid of sound. A man rose from the ground to greet the two travelers—Haoma himself, though in a different form again. "Three blessings, each entrusted to a different host. Spirit Fire, Spirit Walking, and Resonance. Each created with a singular purpose."

The scene changed again—the cavern from his first dream—lit by its unnatural golden sky. In the middle was the same small tree, surrounded by a shallow pool of water. The past-Haoma laid the three artifacts into the water, which somehow swallowed them up despite its lack of depth.

Present-Haoma continued. "Later, three artifacts were created, each to empower one of the hosts. The Eightfold Wheel, The Traveler's Lantern, and The Mirror of Self."

"Empower the hosts?" Wyn asked. "Why was that necessary?"

Haoma turned towards him. Suddenly they were in the streets of Liresil again, a corpse splayed out on the ground in front of them.

Wyn's eyes widened. The scene changed again.

A man was on his knees in a field at the end of some terrible battle, countless spears driven through his body.

Another. A woman's head on a pike.

Another. A child's body, limp at the bottom of a tower.

Another another another anot—

Wyn covered his mouth as he gagged and looked away. "Don't show me that!"

The scene returned to the tranquil countryside of the past. The man from earlier posed atop the giant sword, and the red-haired woman sketched him in a book from below.

"The criteria for selection means that most candidates end up perishing early in life, especially wielders of spirit fire. The artifacts were created to help remedy this problem, though they brought problems of their own."

Wyn's body shook. He grit his teeth to prevent himself from shouting. "I saw children. If being a host is so dangerous… how could you give these blessings to a child?"

"For the furtherance of our goals, I would do whatever was necessary. However…" Haoma turned his golden gaze to Wyn, and for the first time his expressionless face cracked, showing the barest hint of remorse. "It's true that spirits are born of humanity, but we can never represent your extremes, either in your propensity for good, or for evil. We underestimated both the malice and foolishness of man, and they suffered for our mistake.

"Resonance will never be given so lightly again, and you were the first child to inherit spirit fire in over a thousand years. I would imagine Iillia deemed it acceptable due to her isolated nature. And it seems she was correct, as only now do you encounter the rot which has slain so many of your kin."

"Only now?" Wyn's breath caught. "You mean—?"

"The servants of the enemy. Those who poison my roots with his blood at this very moment."

Wyn's head began to spin. "The cult… why are they trying to poison you in the first place?"

"It isn't as complicated as you might believe. Our goals are diametrically opposed."

"Those goals being?"

Golden eyes flared as black cracks appeared on the edge of the memory, like the world itself was breaking apart. "The resurrection and destruction of that thing they call a god."

Wyn swallowed heavily. "A god… Then, they intend to resurrect it, but you intend to destroy it? Those don't seem to align, is this god dead or not?"

"Do not call it a god, Wyn. Even if your people do not understand the meaning of that word, do not give it power in your mind. It is the enemy of the world, a disease corrupting existence itself. And it is not dead. Because we could not kill it."

The cracks in the sky grew wider, and a darkness encroached on the edge of the memory. Haoma glanced up towards them, the glow in his eyes dimming.

"It seems our time grows short. If you have any further questions, ask them now."

Wyn clenched his fists. Don't forget why you're here right now. Questions can wait! "Form… Please form a bond with me! If I can draw on your powers, then surely—surely we can win! And if you can't," his voice trembled, "then tell me what I have to do so that we can."

"A bond…" Haoma repeated. "I've formed many bonds with humans before, and yet none have been so tenuous as this. It's only thanks to your blessing that you're able to meet me outside the sanctum at all." He held up a hand, inspecting his fingers as they slowly peeled away in thin layers of rot. "Though I suppose my own life is on the line—there is no better time to expend energy. It would do no good for me to wither away."

"Is that a yes?" Wyn held out a hand of his own.

Haoma clasped it, golden eyes locking with purple as spirit fire swirled around their arms. The world cracked further around them, but the spirit's eyes began to glow brighter.

"Become my sepal, Wyn. Bring your flames down upon those who would threaten this city."

Wyn nodded, and he felt something grab the other end of the bond.

"I won't be able to communicate with you outside this dream," Haoma said. "But I'll give you what power I can. The sanctum will open at sunrise. Prepare yourself."

"I have one last question!" Wyn shouted as the world began to collapse, shattering like glass. "Sepal Nasrin! How did she betray you? What did she do?"

Haoma's expression didn't change as he looked past Wyn into the cracking space around them. But his voice seemed just a bit softer than it had been. "Apologies Wyn. It seems I'm proving her right once more."

***

Sadirah listened to the pitter patter of the rain against the parasol, watching the sleeping boy beside her. Wyn's face was softer when he slept, better matching the warmth he gave off when he smiled. He was taller than her normally, and his frame was larger, but seeing him now, she was reminded he was actually younger than her—not that a single year meant much.

For some reason, she felt like she could relax, just by watching him sleep. She could bring herself to believe him, when he said everything would be alright.

"You'll heal them won't you Wyn?" she whispered. "If you heal them… then finally, I can—"

Until a true cure is developed, more children will wither, and more will die. Without you, I could not hope to make one so soon.

She clenched one hand around her arm. The bandages hadn't been changed since the attack had begun. Red had started to bleed through in some places, so she pulled her sleeves back down over them.

The first embrace she could remember was Father's—the first warmth she'd ever felt. "You're my hope, little one." He'd whispered the words with a smile as he held her, so so long ago.

Her head fell slowly. "I can't. I'm sorry Nilou."

The doorway in her chest thrummed, pressing against the locks she'd bound it with. They'd weakened, she knew. That was why her memories were returning, trickling in with the power that seeped through the crack.

If she let it open any more, she knew she would remember everything. She wanted to—she'd said she did, hadn't she? But each time she reached for the latch, the thrumming turned to pain, and she pulled back, afraid of what that meant.

She reached out towards Wyn's face. His long eyelashes fluttered as her finger brushed against his cheek.

Purple flames erupted outwards.

Sadirah screamed and jumped back, dropping the parasol as she tripped into the mud. Thankfully she came to her senses a moment later, realizing it was only Wyn's blessing. Though, the flames weren't going away?

Wyn's eyes shot open as the sea of flame lingered around them, and he looked around, a hint of confusion on his face.

"It's dark?" He muttered. His eyes caught hers in the flickering light of his blessing. "Sadirah? I thought you'd wake me after a few minutes?"

She stammered, her face warm. "I—I tried to wake you up! But I couldn't no matter what I tried! So I figured you must be exhausted, and well, you've been pushing yourself so hard…"

Wyn sighed. "It's fine. Seems there wasn't anything you could do." He stood up and walked over to her, smiling warmly as he held out a hand. "Thank you for keeping an eye on me."

She took it, letting him pull her up. His hands were so much bigger than hers. Couldn't she just trust everything to him?

"Did whatever you were trying work?" she asked.

He looked around at the lavender flames, and his gaze focused. They started to spread, creeping out across the ground, unhindered by the puddles of rainwater that had started to collect. Then, as abruptly as they'd appeared, they whisked out.

His smile widened as he flexed his free hand, opening and closing his fingers.

"Yeah. I got what I needed."