Chiri yawned. Night patrol was not only a lengthy undertaking, it was tremendously dull. Serving time for her rogue actions, Chiri had walked the Alliance campus for weeks. Akin to a vengeful spirit she loitered its halls, lawns and perimeter throughout the darkest hours. During which time, the only highlights of note had been limited to a handful of tasks: including collecting snails from the grounds, moving equipment, and delivering notes to and from various persons.
Leaning against the grey stone of the battlement, Chiri watched as the sun crept over the horizon. The rays of its ascent lit the trees far beyond the Ineset boundary. Their leaves taking on a warm glow, which hinted that the season’s eminent change was nearing. Rustled by a crisp breeze they swayed on the backdrop of a pink morning sky. Signaling that her duties were drawing to a close, she paused briefly to acknowledge the view.
Completing a final lap of the perimeter wall, Chiri descended the rickety wooden stairs of the watch tower. Creaking underfoot, each step spiraled downwards. Every second level connecting with different offshoots. They lead to the covered levels of the outer wall, aerial walkways into the observatory or upper levels of the main building and continued to descend, until they eventually hit upon the guard quarters and holding cells. Passing through a curved doorway, Chiri treaded across an expanse of short manicured lawn. Before, entering a passageway connecting the training facilities with the Twilight gate and main building.
Moving with all of the grace and elegance expected of a person of noble birth. Chiri’s long confident gate was punctuated by the sound of her heeled boots as they clicked decisively. The noise echoing from the high ceilings, it travelled through the marble corridors announcing her approach.
People just beginning to commence their day tried their best to ignore Chiri whenever they came across her. Scuttling past, veering away, or even completely retreating in the opposite direction once they recognized her. It seemed as though to cross paths with her was an ill omen, one which they sought to desperately avoid at any cost.
There were relatively few who did not know of Chiri Krane within the Alliance. Once, the upcoming genius of the Day Gate, Chiri Crouse, her fall from grace had been legendary. While many versions of her downfall circulated the Four Gateways Alliance, the most popular amongst them remained: Driven mad by an insatiable desire for power, Chiri Crouse, committed a crime so heinous that her natural gifts had abandoned her completely. Some even went as far to say she had exchanged her soul to surpass human limitations, others preferred to say that she stole them. However, all were just as terrifying in nature.
Although, choosing to adopt dark magic was deemed an appropriate excuse for social banishment within the mage community, it was not illegal. It was actually the technicality of sacrificing her family name in order to wield said dark magic that made her a criminal. Names holding such great significance in the summoning abilities of mages, to conduct the practice of magic without a full name was dangerously unstable. Therefore, for obvious reasons ancient law mandated it to be a considerable offense to attempt or even plot to cast a spell if you were not in possession of both a given and surname.
Punished severely by the Elder Mages, Chiri carried the brand of a Dhryzic and was imprisoned for over a year by the Alliance. A sentence that would have been served for life; had she not been taken in by Cazer. Here, in the main halls of the Alliance, she was a walking cautionary tale, causing people to look on in horror as she roamed its halls freely. In the Night Gate she was their disgrace, spitting and cursing her presence was commonplace amongst their ranks. However, their opinions were inconsequential to Chiri, she had come to accept that abhorrence was simply easier for them.
Nearing the end of another hallway, but still further than she preferred from bed. Chiri felt a telling crackle of static envelope her. The air becoming warm and tense, to the point where she could almost feel it on her fingertips. Chiri’s body still remembered this power all too well. The nostalgic pulse of energy excited her blood. Her heartrate quickening in anticipation.
A sudden streak of lighting alleviated the pressure building in Chiri’s chest. Flashing in a fit of fractured bolts the attack had struck the tiles barely an inch from the scuffed point of her shoe. Her course halted by the spontaneous assault, Chiri remained poised. Back and head perfectly straight, she stood unmoving in the center of the hall. Gaze calmly fixed ahead, the phenomena seemed as insignificant to her, as one might find a passing breeze.
“Banshee!” cried a young man’s voice from behind her.Chiri sneered. To be yelled at so blatantly this early in the morning, and by such a vexing nickname at that, was beyond irritating. ‘Banshee’ was the pet name the Alliance had given her. Although alternative forms of address were not rare within the Alliance, they typically sprung from war stories or acknowledgement of magic prowess, rather than necessity. Coupled with Chiri’s physical appearance and reputation, she had earned the alias before even having been adopted by the Night Gate. The label rose in popularity exponentially as gossip about the former Chiri Crouse became widespread among members of the organization.
Usually undisturbed by names or slurs, it was not the form of address which bothered Chiri. Rather, she was annoyed to hear this person in particular call her such a name. It was unnecessary for her to turn in order to confirm their identity. The voice, so much like a ghost from her past it was too deeply engrained in her memories for her to ever forget it. “Banshee! Look at me!” He shouted again. Distress beginning to reveal itself in the uneven notes of his broken tone.
Chiri did not want to see his face. Not with it twisted into the same look of contempt she received from others. It was impossible they should never set eyes on one another again. Still, Chiri was unwilling to come to terms with this eventuality for the time being and remained stubborn in her lack of acknowledgement.
Taking another step forward, her progress was obstructed again by another bolt of lightning. Producing a loud clap as it cut through the thick air with a thunderous bang. The sound resounded through the corridor. Inevitably, attracting the attention of a small group of trainees. Barred from their morning classes by the display. They found themselves unexpected bystanders to the impromptu clash.
Concentrating on the currents of uninhibited electricity beginning to multiply. Chiri, merely noted their proximity. Not accounting for who might be amongst them. Considering their arrival to be potentially problematic, she refrained from any additional movements that might provoke another volley of lightning.
Becoming rigid as soon as a girl stammered fearfully from among the group. “H-Horus?”
“Butt out Morose!” The boy barked at her angrily.
Finding the Witch at the center of another confrontation, Allen looked on in fascination.The first he had seen of her since entering the Alliance, her appearance was even more striking than recalled. The Witch’s long white hair, tussled by the night breeze, was messily scattered over her shoulders. Cascading all the way down to her waist it caught the soft morning light as it filtered through the tall windows. Her impassive expression remaining unchanged. The natural slant of her eyes and curved lips lending themselves to the constant suggestion of her cunning nature. Allen, although prejudice towards her, thought the Witch seemed less callous than before as she stood calmly facing them.Back turned toward her aggressor. She refused to regard an angry young man. A cautious distance, they were separated by almost 20-feet in the narrow corridor. The floors checked with large slabs of black and white marble. Scorched and cracked, they already bore evidence of
Chiri entered the foyer of Night Gate. Supported by gothic columns, the high ceiling arched upward like the hull of an overturned ship. Furnished extravagantly with sofas and chairs all upholstered in a deep royal purple. It lacked the natural light of the main building.Benefitting from a single west facing stained glass window. Its rounded frame dominated the space between two staircases. Hovering just above where they converged, their steps sloped onto the glossy black marble floor. Where, candles and glowing crystals cast a wavering light on its polished surface.Lacking the patience for another ill-timed encounter. Chiri was relieved to find the popular conjugation place to be presently unoccupied. Though, this was hardly surprising as the Night Gate had few early risers within its ranks. Her cells still scattered, she felt as though a million tiny ants were weaving their way in confused courses under her skin. Electrocution, while always
Chiri tapped on the door to Director's office lightly with the back of her hand. Receiving no reply, she entered without an answer.The empty leather desk chair he usually occupied left askew, papers and open books lying in wait for his return. Curtains drawn across the windows there was only the feeble light from a few sconces to outline their forlorn pages. Cazer's absence immediately apparent, Chiri skirted the room idly running a finger along the spines of a few books displayed.The room was square in shape. Wide on each side, it was able to accommodate floor to ceiling shelves, a sitting area, and the workspace. A parlor table and chairs were even provided to partake in simple meals to the left of the door. Stacked with reference books, this area was mostly wasted on Cazer. If he did eat, it was usually done so unceremoniously hunched over his desk out of necessity rather than enjoyment.Positioned to the right was a solid door connecting into a space
Chiri felt well rested. Cazer leaving shortly after she had fallen asleep to carry out his responsibilities as Director and no one had daring to enter the room without his express permission; she had been permitted to sleep the entirety of the day away in his bed completely undisturbed.Chiri and Cazer kept separate rooms, befitting of their statuses. Chiri sleeping in a room, which had formerly been a broom closet. She favored the floor over the lumpy mattress with aggressive springs that jutted into her sides on most occasions. Instead, it served as barrier against the draft from the narrow-slatted window. The mattress leant against the wall, like the misplaced half of a tent. Wrapped in a meager covering, Chiri would occupy the little space, between it and the cold stone wall.Due to these conditions, nights were usually filled with erratic spurts of sleep. Eventually, it was abandoned more often than not, to read whatever book was on loan to her from the Director&r
Chiri moaned. Lying in the mud body throbbing. Rain fell around her as she gazed up at the open window. Unable to prevent the girl’s immediate decent Chiri had lunged forward after her. Both engaged in a perilous free fall. Chiri extracted a blade. Hurling it to the ground below them with all her strength. It hit the earth well in advance of them. Grabbing on to an outstretched limb, she clung on to the other woman. Finally, is a desperate stroke of last-minute inspiration, Chiri managed to teleport them the rest of the distance. Rolling her head to the side Chiri regarded the blade beside them vacantly. Half-submerged in the mud less than an arm’s length from them. It had been pure luck they had avoided being impaled by it. Her eyes drifted over the smear of blood across the flat edge of its face. Although capable of using other forms of dark magic, Chiri had the unique advantage of a shortcut wherever blood magic was concerned. Without the need for incantations or
Early that morning, everything was as usual in the mess hall. Forced from his sleep by Tristan’s unapologetically abrupt wake-up call. Allen and Tristan arrived in the canteen earlier than most other Hunter recruits. Morning drills guaranteed Twilight Gate trainees to be among the first to rise in the dorms. Training often running well into the early afternoon for Hunters, it resulted in the first meal of the day becoming a riotous free for all. Allen had unfortunately learned this lesson the hard way in his initial week. After discovering the canteen practically stripped clean on multiple mornings; he had suffered through drills, sustained on less than a glass of juice. Occupying their customary corner of the canteen, Allen was sipping a second cup of coffee when Morose entered. Waving to her from across the room he signaled for her to join them. Spotting Allen’s gesture, she made her way towards the two men. Gingerly shuffling past a burly group of Hunters ensconce
There was hardly a sound within the deepest levels of The Alliance prison. Only the echo of expensive leather shoes as they progressed along the winding corridors. Their determined gate stopping once they reached a dead end.Met with a fortified door, Cazer scrutinized it momentarily. Before placing a hand on its cold metal. His palm against the near microscopic carved sigils, there was an aggravated grating grinding and turning of gears opening the metal locks. Followed by a rapid scramble of symbols as several seals were simultaneously dispersed. After the physical and magical obstacles that barred his entry were removed, Cazer entered the cell.Having the large hollow interior of a cave. It was lit by large jagged crystals jutting from the ground like stalagmites. There dismal light, barely strong enough to cast so much as a shadow, they seemed to exist solely to complement the oppressive atmosphere. The air was thick within the cell. Frigid, it chilled every exhala
“The Banshee did that?” Lance Armistice said contemplatively from across the cluttered desk. The hard-nosed trainee captain, after listening patiently to Allen’s retelling of Morose’s story, roughly stroked the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. Although not the giant that Frank Brunes was nor as beefy as some of the other Hunters, Lance possessed an appearance of constant agitation, which made him difficult to approach. Anxiously reporting the incident with the Mare. Allen, Tristan, and Morose had arrived at the Captain’s office late within the afternoon. Standing in front of him now, they were made all the more uncomfortable by the fact that Captain Lance’s office appeared to be the obvious den of a hoarder. Crammed with curious objects, artifacts, and documents there was barely enough space to accommodate the four of them. The chairs occupied by his collection of oddities; all were forced to stand while they conversed. “You did well to report this.” Lance s