The Strength of a Mind

Kiinrin lay in his bed, darkness surrounding him, listening to the voices that spun circles in his head. None of the other boys even noticed the distress he was in- they could not see his silent screams. They did not realize that the consciousness of uncounted souls resided in the mind of a twenty-year old.

Where have they come from? One of them whispered. Where are they going? Why do they always appear when one of us falls?

Kiinrin grasped his ears, trying with all his might to will the voices to stop. Had Aia explained to him exactly what being his vessel would require of him, he would have run out of that cave as fast as he possibly could. He did not want these voices; he had never wished for them. And now he had them.

Sins I have committed. Whispered a terrified masculine voice. Atrocities I have not. Who can say whether one trumps the other?

Kiinrin could not predict when a comprehensible voice picked its way out of the cacophony that existed in his brain. He could only wait in his bed for the voices to cease. They always seemed to do so when morning came. It was almost as if… they lived with the sky. They always intensified the brighter the night sky was, or if he turned his eyes to it. The light seemed to govern them.

Blood on the door, blood on the walls. A woman’s voice shrieked, much louder than any had before. Blood in my heart, pumping to the beat of their blades. Why must there always be blood?

The sound of the morning trumpets pierced the air, silencing the voices for the moment. Light from the phantom sun streamed through the windows, and all the boys awoke from their sleep. Kiinrin flung his feet over the side of his bed, anxious for the day to begin. He felt no fatigue, despite being awake for the greater part of the night. Refreshed would be the word to describe his mood right now.

“How did you sleep?” Nyrin asked, yawning and walking up beside Kiinrin.

“Terribly.” Kiinrin whispered. He wasn’t keen on having the entire boys’ dormitory know that voices whispered in his head. He had been mad once; he had no desire to be mad again. “They kept whispering all night. I barely slept a wink.”

“It makes sense.” Nyrin shook his head. “I still do not understand why Aia would place such a burden upon you.”

“He said something about doing it for Jiriinii.” Kiinrin said, thinking about their conversation with the god of Oaiao. “I think I possess what she had so that she doesn’t have to bear it.”

“He appears to have much faith in you.” Nyrin said with a raised eyebrow. “I do not believe any other man of our age would be able to bear such a thing.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to bear it either.” Kiinrin sighed. Every night the whispers came, speaking of strange and disturbing things. Always about blood, always about death. Many of them spoke about some unknown aggressor that came in the night, punishing sinners. The word “atrocity” was used frequently. What atrocities were they speaking of?

Kiinrin sighed again and pushed away thoughts of the voices. He needed to be able to focus on his studies and training, and worrying over a gift from God would not help him in the least. He stood up and stretched, massaging the fatigue out of his bones. Today felt different for some reason, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Have you heard?” Nyrin said, snapping his fingers and grinning. “Have you heard what lessons the masters have for us today?”

“I haven’t.” Kiinrin said, confused. “Is it something different from normal?”

“Something very different.” Nyrin laughed, clapping Kiinrin on the shoulder. “I have heard rumors that, today, we shall learn to fly like birds!” Nyrin whooped and nearly skipped out of the dorm on his way to the washroom. Kiinrin stood dumbfounded at the foot of his bed, slowly turning the words over in his brain. When the impact of Nyrin’s words finally reached his exhausted mind, he sprinted after Nyrin, narrowly dodging around sleepy boys and bedposts. As it was, he nearly bowled over Quinlix, the inquisitive Quasexan boy. Nyrin was getting dressed in his training clothes when Kiinrin reached him, heaving lungs trying desperately to retrieve the air they had expended in their journey.

“Fly like birds?” He gasped. “Do you mean like the Jods?”

“The Jods fly better than any bird I have ever encountered.” Nyrin laughed. “It may take many years to reach their level of skill!”

“But we will learn how to fly?” Kiinrin said quickly. “With our own wings?”

“If what the rumors say is true.” Nyrin cautioned, holding up his hands in defeat. “I myself cannot confirm nor deny the Jods lesson plan for the day.” He turned to the mirror on the wall to inspect his wispy facial hair and the mop on top of his head. With a sigh, he grabbed a razor and a bar of soap. “Perhaps, before we do anything, one should change out of his nightgown, eh?” Kiinrin looked down in dismay to see he was still in his sleeping clothes. Cheeks blazing, he went to the laundry shelf to retrieve the day’s clothes.

Prepare yourself, my prince. A calm, gentle voice whispered in Kiinrin’s head, causing him to nearly drop the bundle of clothes in surprise. He looked around desperately in a vain attempt to confirm the voice was a person, not one of the Aether’s apparitions. Today you will find your place in the world.

Kiinrin’s face paled, more by the implications the voice brought than the prospect of flying. This was the first time one of the voices spoke to him in the day, and it was also the first time one had spoken to him directly. Could he talk back?

Who are you? Kiinrin asked in the confines of his mind.

I am you, Kiinrin. The Voice said, amused. Look in the mirror. Kiinrin did so, turning towards the large looking glass attached to wall. This time, he did drop the clothes in his hands.

Staring back at him was not his own reflection- far from it. The face that stared back was perfect, flawless, beautiful. There were no blemishes on the face that smiled gently back at him. The skin was smooth, white, and lustrous. The hair on its head was beautifully blonde, golden in the light of the morning.

As Kiinrin stared, he began to realize that the face was very similar to his own. It may have even been his, if perfection had magically found its way to his body. The cheekbones, the hair, the mouth all were his own. And the eyes that stared deep into his were the same sparkling blue eyes that he normally saw in the mirror... With one difference. These eyes betrayed the wisdom of someone who has seen everything, known everything. It was the face of immortality.

I am you, Kiinrin. The Voice repeated, and the face in the mirror spoke at the same time. Indeed, the reflection was the Voice. I am the perfected you, the unblemished you. I am what you would have been if you had been chosen to be Aia. The face smiled, a warm gesture that seemed to inject happiness straight into Kiinrin’s heart. My name is Nirnik.

Kiinrin almost responded with a flurry of questions. He was so confused, and this… apparition was only giving him a mountain of questions to add to the ocean of ones he already had. His knees nearly buckled as his brain focused completely on trying to find answers.

“Kiinrin?” Nyrin asked apprehensively, his razor frozen in his hand. He was staring at Kiinrin with confusion in his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“I…” He stuttered. “No, Nyrin. Everything’s fine.” Nyrin shrugged and went back to shaving. The perfect face stared back all the same, never ceasing.

What do you want? Kiinrin asked warily in his head, hoping the apparition would hear.

Nothing at the moment. Nirnik replied with a smile. I am merely here to observe. You need not fear, Kiinrin. I will not hurt you.

So you’ll see everything I do? Kiinrin blurted. That seems a little invasive.

Naturally. Nirnik said offhandedly. Do not worry, however. I will not be present always. I will only speak to you if there is a mirror present. There is no other way.

So, Kiinrin said slowly. You’re saying that if I leave this room then I don’t have to listen to you?

Precisely. Nirnik nodded. You can even do it if it makes you feel better. Take your clothes and change somewhere else if you do not wish to hear the sound of my voice.

Kiinrin nodded, and dashed out of the washroom as fast as he could. He, once again, nearly ran Quinlix over again on his way out.

“Watch it!” Quinlix yelled as he brushed himself off. “Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you can bully the rest of us!”

“It was an accident!” Kiinrin called behind him, his legs never slowing. “I’m sorry!” Quinlix grumbled and shook his head, but he seemed to be satisfied. Kiinrin didn’t stop running until he reached the dormitory.

“Whoah there, brother.” Jiriinii said, glancing at his red face and windswept hair. “Some might think that there’s danger around if you keep running around like that.”

“I just had to get away from someone.” Kiinrin said evasively, sitting down on a cot to catch his breath. Jiriinii shrugged and continued to put on her clothes. Though Kiinrin vowed to change in here because he wanted to get away from Nirnik, Jiriinii changed in the boy’s rooms (after they had left, of course) simply because she wasn’t comfortable near the other girls. They seemed shallow and cruel to her. Only Ilyira was different, and she seemed too absorbed in her own thoughts to want to talk to Jiriinii.

Kiinrin blushed as Jiriinii took off her shirt and stood in only her shift. She seemed to not be aware of the changes in her body, and Kiinrin blushed even further as he turned away from her in an attempt to keep some level of comfort between them. He didn’t want to know that much about his little sister. He didn’t even want to think of her as a grown woman; though, inevitably, that was what she was becoming. Kiinrin couldn’t stop it.

“Hey,” Jiriinii said, putting her hand on his shoulder. He turned around gingerly and sighed in relief when he saw she had her clothes on. “Is something wrong?” Kiinrin gaped at her for a moment, confused as to how she did not know the answer to that question.

“How much do you remember of what happened the other day?” Kiinrin blurted out. “The day you collapsed?”

“I-” Jiriinii stammered, taken aback by the suddenness of the question. “I’m not sure. I remember fighting with you, and getting really angry that you were winning. I remember rushing to attack you, and then…” She trailed off for a moment. “I remember the whispers coming and almost splitting my head in two. I remember Ventoros coming and picking me up, and something in him quieted the voices. After that,” She shook her head. “Nothing after that.”

Kiinrin breathed raggedly, turning the issue over and over in his head. Dare he tell his sister what happened in that cave? Dare he tell her that he met their God? And dare he tell her what God asked of him?

No, Kiinrin. Nirnik said forcefully, and Kiinrin jumped. His eyes swivelled about in search of a mirror. There, lying sideways on one of the  cots. The perfect face had a stern look as it stared back at him. You cannot tell her. To do so would be to give up what Aia has given you, and your sister cannot do it yet.

“Why do you ask?” Jiriinii said, quieting Nirnik for a moment. “Is there something I need to know?”

“No.” Kiinrin said quickly, going with his instincts. Nirnik was right. Kiinrin could remember clearly what Aia had told Ventoros: Jiriinii was not able to handle what the Aether was doing to her. Kiinrin had to bear it by himself for now. It was the only way. “I was only worried if you were still hurt from that.”

“I’m fine.” Jiriinii replied with a dazzling smile that sent fear into Kiinrin’s heart. He would have to beat back the other boys with his knives if she kept flashing that around in the halls. He might not even be able to stop them. “Really, Kiinrin, I am. In fact, I’ve felt better than I have for the entire time I’ve been here.”

“That’s good.” Kiinrin said, smiling himself. Seeing his sister happy and unburdened made his heart leap for joy. This kind of feeling made it easier for him to bear his own burdens.

Do you really consider them burdens, Kiinrin? Nirnik whispered. You have been given a task set directly from the lord of Creation himself. What part of that seems to be a burden?

Just because it is a holy duty, Kiinrin snarled, doesn’t mean that it is any less cumbersome.

That is truth, Kiinrin. Nirnik said in praise. You are already learning to be wise. Soon you will surpass even your father, the wisest king of them all.

How do I shut you up? Kiinrin snapped, exasperated beyond the point of frustration. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.

Turn the mirror over. Nirnik instructed, and the very fact that he told Kiinrin made Kiinrin rethink the apparition’s intentions. Why would it willingly tell him how to get rid of it? The mystery notwithstanding, Kiinrin walked over to the mirror and turned it over. A feeling of emptiness washed over him, almost causing his hand to turn the glass back. Something about Nirnik leaving made him feel like a part of himself was missing. Indeed, if what Nirnik had said was in the least bit true, then he was missing part of himself.

“Just think, Kiinrin!” Jiriinii squealed in excitement, one of the few tendencies left over from her days as a little girl. “Today we’re going to learn how to fly!” Her eyes glazed over as she thought of the prospect. Kiinrin even allowed himself a small smile as he thought of the joy he had felt on the flight to Valanal. He couldn’t wait to experience that again.

Kiinrin sighed and pulled off his sleeping clothes. If he wanted to get to the lesson, he would have to be dressed for it first. It annoyed him slightly that Jiriinii didn’t react to his own state of undress; maybe it was just him that thought it was uncomfortable.

“Come on.” He said as he pulled on his shirt. “Let’s go be birds.”

Jiriinii smiled and followed him out the door.

* * *

“Alright, initiates.” Valynor said, pacing between the assembled ranks of students. “I’m sure many of you have been greatly anticipating this day. Are you all ready?”

They stood on the wooden platform the Jods had arrived on, and they all shivered in the cold. The clothes they had been instructed to wear to this lesson were thin and fluttering, and every shirt had a large slit on the back that let frigid air in against their skin. Many could find no purpose for it and were consequently frustrated with the Jods.

“Sir?” Quinlix said, raising has hand quickly. During his days in Valanal, his shy demeanor had given way to a confident young man with a quick wit and sharp mind. “How exactly are we going to learn today?” He gestured to himself. “I’m almost certain we don’t have wings.” Many of the students laughed, the humor taking some of the edge off their anxiety.

“All in good time, Quinlix.” Valynor said with a smile. “In fact, I was just about to get to that.” He looked out over the crowd. “How many of you are annoyed by the little slit near your back?” The entire mass of students raised their shivering hands, Kiinrin included. “Do any of you know what it is for?” All of the hands went down except one.

“They’re for wings.” Ilyira said matter-of-factly. A few glares from the other girls showed their contempt for her brain. “What’s the point of having them if your clothes get in the way?”

“I suppose I should have asked a non-native to answer.” Valynor said with a laugh. “But yes, Ilyira, you are correct.” Valynor turned, displaying his large white wings. The students were delighted and nearly broke rank trying to get glimpses of his wings. “I’d either have to go shirtless or rip unseemly holes in all of my clothes.” He heaved a heavy, fake sigh. “And we haven’t even mentioned armor yet!” The students laughed again, and another inquisitive boy raised his hand.

“So, you’re saying we’ll all get actual wings?” He asked in disbelief. “My pa always said that was impossible.”

“Did your pa ever meet a Jod?” Valynor said with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “I would certainly like to meet the man who thinks that I am impossible.” The students laughed yet again, much to the chagrin of the inquisitor. Face beet red, he lowered his head.

“It was just a question.” He said in a defensive manner. “None of you needed to laugh.”

“It’s alright, Ylixiir.” Valynor said soothingly. “It was only a jest, nothing more. You did have a good question, however.” He smiled broadly. “I am glad that I get to be here to give you your first wings.” The eyes of every single student brightened, and hopeful looks appeared by the dozen. “If you will all wait here, then we can begin the process.” He walked off the platform onto the path leading to the palace.

Kiinrin waited anxiously next to Nyrin, both excited and apprehensive about the whole business. What if it didn’t work out? What if he wasn’t able to fly? What if, somehow, he did so badly they would send him away? His mind was filled to bursting with “what if” questions, and nothing he tried to think about could send them away.

“Calm down there, little lord.” He heard Ilyira whisper. “There’s nothing much to worry about.” She had made her way through the throng of mingling children and was sidled up between Nyrin and Kiinrin. She had a mischievous grin on her face as she poked Kiinrin in the ribs. “You’ll probably do the best out of all of us.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Kiinrin scoffed. He was silent for a moment, but then he remembered something that Valynor had said about Ilyira. “What was Valynor talking about when you said something to him?”

“What do you mean?” Ilyira cocked her head to one side in confusion.

“He said something about how he should have asked a non-native.” Kiinrin recalled. “What did he mean by that?”

Ilyira gawked at him. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“I was born here.” Ilyira said, smiling and elbowing him. “My father is one of the guardsmen on the northern mountains, monitoring the Barabak Wall.” Kiinrin gaped at her.

“Wait, your father is a Jod?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Ilyira said with a shrug. “So what? It isn’t anything big. There are a lot of us here.”

“There are?” Kiinrin said, eyes wide. He looked around wildly, trying to guess who were the ones Ilyira was referring to.

“Of course.” Ilyira said, looking at him strangely. “What did you think? That the Jods were as celibate as Junarian monks?”

“I don’t know what I thought.” Kiinrin said, his mind still trying to accept the idea. For some reason, he had imagined the Jods as aloof, emotionless beings that protected the world with incredible power. His mind didn’t seem to be able to cope with the idea that Jods could actually fall in love, settle down, have families.

As he thought about this, he looked back at Ilyira to ask another question, one that would hopefully calm the confusion in his mind. However, his words caught in his throat as a ray of phantom light pierced through the cloud cover and illuminated Ilyira’s hair. It almost looked red as it glowed with a radiance that made Kiinrin’s knees strangely weak. He obviously was staring with some sort of confused abandon, for Ilyira looked at him and blushed before turning away without saying anything. Kiinrin continued to stare, as if looking at Ilyira for the first time. He drank in her features, illuminated so beautifully. Her eyes dazzled him with sparkles, and Kiinrin thought that he could stare into them for hours on end, completely unaware of his other surroundings. Her slender yet strong body had the grace of a bird before flight, and her pale skin seemed almost divine to Kiinrin’s eyes.

“Ah, little one.” Nyrin whispered in Kiinrin’s ear, startling him out of his reverie. “I had hoped that you wouldn’t be smitten with the disease that sizes the heart of almost every man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kiinrin said hastily, his cheeks betraying his true feelings with their flaming hue.

“I think you do.” Nyrin said, highly amused. “I supposed it was only a matter of time. I myself have been trying to fight off the effects of the malady, but alas, I have been unable to triumph.”

“Oh, really?” Kiinrin scoffed. “And what unlucky strumpet has been targeted with your affections?”

“I would be careful with such titles, my friend.” Nyrin said. “You may be bestowing them on ones who do not deserve it.”

“Show me.” Kiinrin challenged, and Nyrin nodded to Kiinrin’s right.

“Right there.” He said wistfully. “Drink of her beauty, her elegance. And that doesn’t even begin to describe her marvelous mind, her skill with a knife, and the perfect way her eyes alight when speaking!” Nyrin appeared to be on the verge of bursting into open verse, but Kiinrin was confused.

“Where is she?” He asked, craning his neck. “Is she behind Jiriinii?” He shook his head. “I cannot see her.”

Nyrin looked at him with a confused look, then burst into gales of laughter. “Are you that kind of man, Kiinrin, that you are blind to the feelings of your blood?”

“What are you talking about?” Kiinrin snapped, still trying to locate the girl Nyrin was referring to. “Where is she?”

“She is right in your path, Kiinrin.” Nyrin said gently, stopping Kiinrin’s head with his large hands. “You just need to accept what you see.” Kiinrin continued to stare at his sister uncomprehendingly.

“I don’t understand.” He said, immensely frustrated. “What are you…” He looked back at Nyrin and then to Jiriinii. Truth dawned on his mind. “Oh no. Not her.”

“I’m going to assume that isn’t a blessing?” Nyrin said with a sigh. “I thought as much.”

“Jiriinii?” Kiinrin hissed, not taking his eyes off of her. Jiriinii remained oblivious, peering off into the distance as thoughts circulated through her head. “You’re interested in Jiriinii?”

“Interested is not a strong enough word, Kiinrin.” Nyrin sighed, looking for all the world like a sad lover. Indeed, that was what he was at this moment. “Obsessed? Infatuated? Utterly intoxicated? Those words would be the best to describe the feelings I have at this moment. For truly, I want for nothing in this world but your dear, sweet sister.”

“Aia above.” Kiinrin said, eyes wide and jaw down near his toes. “You’re a poet. A hopelessly romantic poet.” Kiinrin pretended to gag. “How did I ever get mixed up with you?”

“Indeed, that is the question.” Nyrin laughed. “But, in all seriousness, not a word I have said is untruth.”

“How?” Kiinrin asked. “When? For that matter, why? What’s so interesting about Jiriinii?”

“What isn’t interesting about her?” Nyrin sighed again. “The perfect way her hair cascades down her shoulders reminds me of the beautiful waves of the ocean. Her eyes threaten to turn my legs to jelly every time, no matter the situation. And her voice, Kiinrin! No angel could ever have the same gorgeous, melodious sound as her words.”

“This is disgusting.” Kiinrin scoffed. “I don’t want to hear any of this.”

“Oh, but you must.” Nyrin said, clapping Kiinrin on the back. “As her father is absent, the task falls on you for the blessing of a marriage.”

“Marriage?” Kiinrin choked, staring at Nyrin in horror. “She’s barely more than twelve years old!”

“Ah, but Kiinrin.” Nyrin said, wagging a finger in scorn. “We cannot count years as Jods. Our bodies grow faster than a human’s ever would. You cannot object to a union between us on the grounds of age. She is at least my equal in age, if not slightly older.” He stared at Jiriinii a little longer before letting out a another, heaving sigh. “I suppose you shall have to think about it for a little while yet.”

“A little while?” Kiinrin said, his mind reeling. “Give me a year or so. Then maybe I’ll have a few ideas about how I can answer.” Nyrin was about to offer a witty retort, but at that moment, the clanging sound of a bell echoed across the crowd of children. All eyes turned toward the source of the sound, the doors to the palace. Valynor had returned, and he was not alone.

He was trailed by a large line of Jods, about twenty in all, each carrying a large silver bowl filled to the brim with milky white liquid. Kiinrin couldn’t help but stare; the bowls were filled with the Aether. What was going on? Valynor himself carried a large silk sack, and it appeared to be filled with many small trinkets.

“Soon we shall begin, students.” He announced dropping the sack on the ground and rubbing his arms. “Each of you shall receive a bowl from one of the Jods.” The bearers began to filter through the throng of children, each handing their bowl to one of the students. Kiinrin received his and held it reverently in both hands, staring into the white depths. Unless his mind was playing tricks on him, he thought he could see an iridescent sheen of hundreds of different colors over the Aether .

“Are you seeing this?” He hissed at Nyrin, who looked at his own bowl in confusion.

“No.” He answered shortly. “What am I supposed to be seeing?” Kiinrin shook his head and went back to staring at the colors, completely dazzled. It was one of the most amazing sights he had ever seen, second only to the beautiful light he saw as Vilkanai had healed him.

“Do you all have your bowls?” Valynor asked, looking over the crowd. The students nodded in affirmation. “Good. I will now begin passing out the second thing you will need. I ask that you remain calm and breathe deeply. Some find these items… disturbing.” He held up as his hand as the children gasped. “Be comforted; they are necessary for your ascension.” He began to pull white objects out of the bag, passing one to each student. As he moved through the crowd, Kiinrin craned his neck to see what Valynor held. Frustratingly, he could not see until Valynor handed him one and continued down the line.

Even with Valynor’s caution, Kiinrin almost dropped the object in disgust. It was a Bloodblade hilt, carved from bone and spiked at the tip. He turned it over in his hands, and he began to marvel at the workmanship despite his discomfort. The spirals on the hilt were masterfully made and dizzying, curling around the bone in incomprehensible patterns. The only flaw in the hilt was a small, square socket in the center of the hilt. The place where the Outlet went.

“Does everybody have a hilt?” Valynor asked, and, once again, everyone nodded. “Very well. Now, I need every one of you to think about something.” He stared each student directly in the eye. “You all have taken classes from me about the workings of Bloodblades and, more importantly, the types. I need you all to think in your hearts about what kind of Blade you wish to wield. Think well and hard, for you will not be able to change your decision once it is made.”

Kiinrin thought long and hard about what kind he wished for, taking everything into account. His thought process, his fighting style, the way he solved problems. As he thought, a greater question came up, one that he rarely thought about and had not yet answered.

Who was he?

* * *

As Kiinrin went through his existential crisis, Jiriinii was thinking very quickly along the same lines.

It’s funny, really. She thought, chuckling to herself. A month ago I wouldn’t have been able to stomach even the idea of wielding a Bloodblade. She looked around at all the other initiates and smile. And here I am choosing which one I want.

She absentmindedly pulled out her silver knife and twirled it in her hands. The real question was, if she chose a Bloodblade, would she still be able to practice Jijiiku? In her study of the style, she had begun to grow close to it, incorporate it into her everyday life. Jijiiku felt more than a fighting style to her; it felt like a lifestyle. Would she have to give it up?

Another difficulty in choosing a Bloodblade was this: which sense did she want enhanced? Which ability would help her fighting the most? She had no idea; they all appealed to her. The touch from Fishmonger would allow her to feel her opponents as they moved, an excellent enhancement for a fighter who waited for her opponents to move first. But, on the same note, Wolfsbane would allow her much the same with enhanced hearing. She supposed she could rule out Falconeyes and Viperbite; neither matched her style at all. Viperbite was much too big and bulky to use with the smooth, graceful movements of Jijiiku, and Falconeyes got rid of her ability to use the silver knife altogether.

Which did she choose? Who was she?

For some strange reason, her mind turned back to her sister and began to wonder what Inalla would choose. Inalla, her sweet, insecure sister who wanted desperately to prove herself to a father she loved. Jiriinii chuckled ruefully as she remembered their little quarrels and fights, recalling fondly the stern words her father and mother gave to them quickly after each encounter. Inalla would almost certainly have been able to choose quickly; her mind simply worked that way.

As Jiriinii thought, she began to be saddened as she realized that she and Inalla had been growing apart before Jiriinii was taken. They had fought more and embraced less, love failing between the two. Jiriinii felt tears well up in her eyes as she thought that she would never feel the warm embrace of Inalla, and even her family, any more.

And suddenly she knew which Bloodblade she would choose.

“Has everyone chosen?” Valynor called, and the children bobbed their heads in response. Jiriinii was surprised to see tears in the eyes of some, though they quickly moved to wipe some away. How deep had their self-reflection penetrated?

“Master,” One of them called in a trembling voice. “What’s going to happen now?”

“I was just about to tell you.” Valynor smiled. He nodded at the Jods surrounding the group, who each produced an ivory box from the folds of their clothes. They each went to one of the students, holding the box reverently. An unknown face came up to Jiriinii and did the same, staring her intently in the eye.

“Every one of you has chosen a Blade, correct?” Valynor continued. “I want each of you to tell the Jod next to you which Blade you have chosen.” He looked at the initiates. “Go on.”

Jiriinii, feeling somewhat awkward, gestured for the Jod to lean in close. Her decision still felt somewhat personal, and she didn’t want just anybody listening. The Jod complied, leaning close enough to obscure even Jiriinii’s lips from any onlookers.

“Fishmonger.” Jiriinii whispered quietly, fighting back tears of her own. She hadn’t realized just how much emotion she had been holding down, and how much emotion her self-reflection had brought back up. The Jod responded with a knowing smile and nodded, opening the box.

Inside, nestled in plush cushioned compartments, sat four little glass cubes, each filled with a different substance. Jiriinii was instantly able to recognize the objects after months of study: Bloodblade Outlets. The Jod deftly removed the Outlet filled with water from the box and handed it to Jiriinii, snapping the box shut again. Jiriinii took the cube almost reverently. The Jod bowed quickly and moved back to the outskirts of the throng of students.

“You have all been given an Outlet for the Bloodblade you have chosen.” Valynor announced with a smile. “You will now create your own. And,” He gestured to himself. “I will not be able to assist you in the making.”

“What do you mean?” Jiriinii heard Kiinrin say with a confused tone. “How are we supposed to be able to make the Bloodblades if you don’t tell us how to make them?”

“That is the inherent difference between Bloodblades and the Blades you are about to create, Kiinrin.” Valynor comforted. “Bloodblades are made by the power of men, and they require somebody to teach them. Aetherblades, however, do not require prior knowledge. If the creator is in tune with the words of Aia, he or she will be able to intuit the required Oaths to create the Blade.” Valynor looked up at the sky. “It would be best to begin. We do not want to lose the light.”

“But the sun has only just set!” Somebody called. “How long could it take?”

“Sometimes it has taken the initiates several days.” Valynor said, shaking his head. “And I would like you to become familiar with the effects of an Aetherblade before you have to deal with them on a day to day basis.” He waved his hands. “Begin!”

Jiriinii stood, hair flapping in the breeze, trying to understand what Valynor had been talking about. They needed to create their own Blades? How was that supposed to work? Did they wave a magic wand, say a few magic words, and the Aether just leapt from the bowl onto their hilts? It sounded like something a serf would believe in.

Do not judge, little one. A quiet, intense voice whispered in Jiriinii’s head. Sometimes the lowly are closer to the truth than they appear.

Who are you? Jiriinii whispered back, in a way that she didn’t fully understand.

Think, child. The Voice responded in amusement. You have met me once before.

Jiriinii racked her brains, thinking desperately about where she had heard this sweet, quiet voice before. Hours passes as she stood, but nothing happened. It was like trying to recall a small detail from a half-remembered dream, a needle in the haystack of her mind. Suddenly, as she thought, a memory began to surface from the sea of thoughts. A soft, white light, a powerful, kind face, and the feeling of joy such as she had never known before all burst through her mind, and Jiriinii could almost picture himself in a dark cave, staring at the face of her God.

There is no need to think of me as such. The Voice said kindly. I would prefer to be thought of as a father or friend. Children respond better to things like that.

What would you have me do? Jiriinii responded in the most formal way possible.

Fear not, little one. The Voice comforted. There is no need for such obeisance. I merely wish for you to repeat what I say to you.

A string of strange, unfamiliar words streamed through Jiriinii’s mind, the unusual syllables flowing haltingly off her lips. As she continued to repeat the words of Aia, a compulsion came across her to dip her the base of the hilt in the bowl of Aether, placing her Outlet in the square socket at the same time. She did so, unsure of the reason behind it, but trusting Aia enough to follow his orders. The second the bone touched the milky liquid, a shock jolted through Jiriinii’s arm, nearly disrupting her words. She pulled her hand back quickly, taking the hilt and the liquid with it. The Aether had attached to the Blade and was boiling and frothing like a pot set over a roaring fire. As Jiriinii watched, chanting all the while, the white liquid seemed to solidify and elongate into the rough shape of a blade, the point curving backwards into a wicked hook. After a few moments, she held a Fishmonger Aetherblade, warm and fresh from the process, aloft in her hands.

Excellent. The Voice said with finality, and Jiriinii stopped chanting. She took in a deep breath.

What were those words? She asked, thoughts coming sluggishly from her lack of air. What did you have me say?

Bloodoaths. The Voice responded. The divine words that create a Blade. The Voice paused. My work here is done. Be well, Jiriinii Galarin. We shall meet again.

But… Jiriinii protested, but she could feel the Voice leave her mind. She sighed. Things seemed to be confusing her even more.

She let the matter of Aia go and concentrated on her Blade. It was white and pure, and it glowed in the morning light. The milky texture had been replaced with a smooth sheen that made the Blade look more like pure white metal than of the liquid it had been moments ago. The hook on the end was menacing and beautiful at the same time, and the serrated edges only added to the effect.

As she examined the Blade, taking note of its every nuance and beauty, she began to feel as though the wind grew into a raging storm. Pricklings began to tingle along her exposed skin, and she very nearly dropped the Blade to scratch the itchings that began. The ground beneath her bare feet, which had been perfectly level before, began to feel like rolling hills along her skin, bumps perforating the stone.

Fishmonger. She realized, her eyes widening slightly. She immediately regretted the decision; the dust that was blowing into her eyes felt like of pricks of lightning tearing through her irises. It gives an enhanced sense of touch.

Her teeth rattled as vibrations seemed to permeate through her feet and shake her entire body, varying in intensity and frequency. She looked around to find what she thought was surely some monstrous weight slamming against the ground, but all she could see were the initiates shifting their weight as they stared dumbfounded at their own Blades. Jiriinii turned back, mind racing as several realizations coursed through her brain. One, that she was now an Aetherwielder, a full member of the Jods. And two, she could feel the vibrations of the movement around her. Could she use that to her advantage?

“I see everybody has been able to create their Blade.” Valynor said somewhat quieter than he had before. He looked out over the children, smiling slightly at the seemingly ubiquitous feeling of discomfort. “Fear not, little ones. You may feel strange for the moment, but it will pass. You will soon learn how to control your new abilities. And then,” Valynor smiled joyously. “You shall join us as the newest members of our force.”

“Excuse me, sir?” One of the boys, holding a thin white Blade that greatly resembled a tailor’s needle, said quietly. He was rubbing his ears, as though some unkind noise assaulted them. “Is it possible that we can put these away for the moment?”

“Of course, Elerek.” Valynor said with a bow. “In fact that is the next step in our process.” He held out his left arm. “I want you all to extend your arm, like so.” When everybody had done so, he continued, “Now, stab your Blade into your left wrist.”

“What?” Several of the children exclaimed, freezing in place. “That will kill us!”

“Children,” Valynor said gently. He held out his arm, the bone spike sticking out of his skin. “Have you not learned anything?” There were a few grumbles, but the children understood the message. This would not kill them. With confidence instilled in her, Jiriinii stabbed her Blade into her skin.

There was no pain, only a sort of tickling that occurred as her skin seemed to open invitingly for the Blade. It split apart with no blood or reaction, and the Aetherblade suddenly melted. What had been pure white metal a few moments ago now became the milky liquid again. As Jiriinii watched and time seemed to slow down, the liquid was drawn into her veins, as though it had a mind of its own. It squirmed and flowed into her arm, and it did not stop when it reached the hilt. Finally, just before the spike was to be drawn into her veins, it stopped. All that remained of her Blade was a small spike perfectly melded with her skin.

Warmth blossomed through every part of her body, a fire exploding through every vein. She began to glow with a strange light, and a few glances told her that every other child was doing likewise. The warmth and comfort seemed to course in endless rivers throughout her body; as she observed it, it began to concentrate on her back, right between her shoulder blades. Suddenly, pain like a thousand knives shot through her back.  An intense, strange pulling motion seemed to be coming out of her skin. It felt as if… something were growing out of her back. All the children screamed. At the precise moment that Jiriinii thought the pain would be too much, it stopped completely. Jiriinii felt shock and fear instead of relief, and she dropped to her knees. Her lungs and chest heaved, the ordeal still fresh in her mind.

She felt something caress her cheek tenderly, something soft and warm. The touch seemed to release the pent-up stress and emotion in her, and she breathed out a single, ragged sob. Climbing to her feet and wiping her tears, she seemed to feel a strange weight on her back. She gasped as she felt new muscles and strange feelings in her back. Gently, she tried playing around with the strange feelings, experimenting with the weight and muscles. Air roared around her as she began to flutter a pair of enormous white wings that had sprouted from her back.