Annalise – 19th Harvestwatch 1383
Wolvsbane, Trifectorate Confederacy
168 Days until Cloudbreaker's wrath
"True power isn't inherited. It is not granted. It is taken. Seized by those with the will to tear it from the world's throat. The weak worship mercy because it makes them feel safe. They dress their fear in words like 'justice' and 'honor'. But those are just illusions. Pretty lies whispered by the powerless. But the strong… they know the truth. And that truth is that power decides"
- King Corsair, King of the Pirates
Running. Falling. Rising. A hand grasped the back of my collar, hauling me up as a swarm of bodies pressed against me. The hallway was crammed as grim faces passed by without thought, heading to the wall, heading to their doom.
"Annalise! Annalise, you have to get to the teleportation circle!" A deep voice called from behind me. My bodyguard, Roger, his large grey form towered over the heads of the orcs, kobolds, and goblins alike. I had to escape them, I had to escape this. This wasn't me.
As he moved to make space before me, I turned, ducking into the crowd, becoming one with the faces around me. Roger's voice faded, melting into the clash of rising calls from the mass of people.
Above distant rumbles could be heard, a storm breaking against the city of Ironcliff, a vast fortress upon the wall, each stone inlayed with steel, forged by countless of hands over countless of generations. A wind that howled deep within my bones caused the structure to tremble beneath my feet. Around me, people fell to their knees and feet, the stone scraping at skin.
Amos, the general, my father, where would he have been? His study, researching the incoming wave, the courtyard, rallying the men, or the wall, to be the first to face the tide?
My feet turned as I darted into a servant's corridor. It would lead to the third outermost wall. Perhaps I would be able to see him from there.
It felt as if time had slowed, as if every step took me no farther as I ran. Suddenly, the wooden door I had used to sneak out into the night since I was a mere eleven years old came into view as I barreled forwards.
As I pressed, my shoulder screamed, the door buffeting against the winds outside; sticking my foot through, I finally managed to slide outside.
The wind streamed around me, drowning out the world as my eyes watered from the force. Above me, a cloud as black as night boiled. Lightening flashed, highlighting a singular figure standing on the outermost wall, sword drawn, shoulders held broad in defiance.
"No, no, I need him." I stepped forward, closer towards the edge of the wall as an arm reached around my waist, yanking me back.
"Annalise, what are you doing out here! You have to evacuate before the circles burn out!" Garrick's voice roared into my ear as he pulled me back, yanking me off my feet as I reached out with a singular clawing hand.
"No! Amos! Father!"
Another flash of lightning turned all to light, burning my retinas.
"Father!" I screamed, the sound ripping from my throat. But the thunder didn't come. Only silence. And the sting of… sunlight? I shuddered, my eyes flying open. The stone wall of Ironcliff melted away, replaced by the rough hewn planks of the ceiling. My heart hammered against my ribs, a war drum echoing the storm that was no longer there.
I shut my eyes once more, savoring his face. I had never known my mother's, and despite trying with all my might, I could not recall the first time I had learned of her death. It was all my fault, and equally, part of who I was.
Bringer of death. The words echoed in the back of my head, a voice horribly familiar.
I took a deep breath. Then ten more.
The others, I could not let them see me unraveled. The group was tense enough. If I lost my use... I had to be the one to keep them together. They were already at each other's throats. What they needed was to feel useful, and if that meant being the one to make the foolish decision, then I had to be the one to make it.
I shook my head, thoughts ringing inside my own ears, a small voice chiding my reaction the day prior. Cloudbreaker, he was there at Ironcliff, I knew it in my heart. No, the howl, I knew it in my bones.
Amos would never have backed down. He had never left a fight unfinished. If Cloudbreaker was here... I pressed my eyes shut tighter. He would never have flinched at the thought of finding his wife.
And yet, I could not help but feel a deep pressure within my heart. Which should I find, which should I save? What if the answer was neither?
"Get it together Annalise, you are the daughter of the great Amos Kane." I muttered, rubbing my eyes. "You are to be the greatest performer in the world, the greatest song writer, the greatest adventurer. You are the brave one, not me."
I paused, "I am the brave one, I am the brave. I flinch at no task." I reminded myself, forcing a smile upon my face.
I let it fall loosely, shoulders drooping with it. "Leoni, you get it, I have to be what the group needs."
My satchel hanging on a nearby chair shifted, the notebook I had purchased from the Archivist Maxim, wriggled outward, six curved protruding legs skittering it forwards.
"Leoni, come," I called, opening the bedside drawer and pulling out a handful of sweets.
The little mirror skin crawled out of the satchel, swiftly crossing the floor to my side in a matter of heartbeats.
"Leoni, freeze!" Mid step the creature paused, its multiple eyes blinking widely at me.
"Open wide," and its maw flapped open, showing three rows of daggered teeth.
I tossed the handful into his mouth, watching the small book wriggle with excitement, my lips curving into a small smile.
"Now hide yourself Leoni." The living leather stilled, once more becoming indifferentiable from that of an average book. Yes, I could do this; I could be what my friends needed. Just as Leoni could adapt, so could I.
I turned, slowly pushing myself up and out of bed, reaching to grab the bottled dark red liquid on my bedside table. Adrastos had dropped it off last night to help with my throat. I had cast magic with song and violin before, but never so frequently at such vigor.
I braced for the taste and the pain; healing was no pleasant experience on Duskmere. But surprisingly, the taste was that of fresh strawberries. The pain on the other hand was searingly present as the skin of my throat began to knit back together.
With a deep breath, I picked up Leoni, placing him carefully into my bag. A smile returned to my face, and I opened the door to my room to face the day.
As I walked downstairs the smell of roasted meat and herbs hit me first. Then the silence.
Adrastos, Qapla, and Velyan all sat around the table. Velyan was already there, her hair a wild tangle, tearing into a chuck of meat with her bare hands. Qapla was watching her with an expression torn between concern and disgust.
The air in the room was thick and cold, as if the fight from last night had frozen over them. No one was talking.
Adrastos turned, "May Yaelin's light shine on you, Annalise. Qapla made breakfast again."
"Qapla you ought to show me how to cook sometime, with the journey ahead we'll need you on the map more than a fire ." I said flashing a smile. And yet, in my heart it felt untrue, always untrue.
Qapla just grunted, his gaze fixed on his plate. He motioned to the empty seat with his chin.
I sat down, the silence stretching. This was it. This was the moment I'd dreaded. They needed me to fix this. I cleared my throat.
"Listen," I hesitated, my palms growing damp. "I don't know how you all are feeling about last night , but Nox can't control whose blood she shares. Regardless of where she came from, she's choosing a different life than the one she was given."
Qapla's head snapped up.
"We can either blame her for trying to change the circumstances of her birth and drive her away, or we can accept the fact that, like any of us, she is not perfect." I let my eyes settle on Velyan, before moving to Qapla, "She is only looking for a chance to choose differently this time around, I'm sure we all have moments we wish we could go back and change. "
"Annalise." Qapla's voice was a low growl. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "She could have trusted us. She could have come forth and warned us. We would have helped instead, we were caught unprepared."
"How was she to know how you would react ?" I shot back. "You see the world. There is a literal god wolf on the prowl. Cloudbreaker himself. People are dying, begging to find a reason to blame something." I paused, looking at my group. "Don't let that be Nox."
Adrastos spoke up, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "Qapla, I know you think what I see in her is just faith." He paused, setting his fork down.
"But to have faith is to believe without requiring physical proof . What I have in Nox is trust. It is earned. She has been gruff, yes, but underneath there is kindness. She helped us when she had no reason to."
"Adrastos filled me in on what went down while I was unconscious." Velyan said, her voice flat. "She's a variable. An uncontrolled variable,"
She continued, "That's the problem. I don't care if she's a hellborn, a changeling, or a baker. What I care about is that her brother – the literal right hand of Lucifer apparently – can walk into our house, unopposed, and make offers. It means we are on his ledger and it means he can do it again."
She leaned forward, all pretense of eating forgotten. "This mission to get the stone was already going to be near impossible. Now we have Hell involved?"
She snorted, "How do we trust Nox, with knowing her brother is watching her? How do we know his angle? What does he gain? What does he lose ? This isn't about 'trust' or 'blame' here. It's about risk. And she," Velyan nodded toward the stairs, "just brought a mountain of it to our door."
"Exactly," Qapla snapped, pointing at Velyan. "That's the problem."
"She's right."
Nox was halfway down the stairs, fully equipped, with her hands resting on dual sword hilts. My stomach dropped. She had heard.
She stepped onto the main floor. Her eyes met Velyan's, then Qapla's. "It's a risk. I can't promise you my brother won't be back. I can't promise you he doesn't want more ."
"Then what can you promise?" Qapla's voice was hard.
"I can promise that my brother and I are not the same," Nox said, her voice low and even. "He offers deals to those who can't refuse him and expects absolute obedience. I am offering my sword. He wants to control you, while I am choosing to defend you."
"I can't earn back your trust with just words in a room. I know that. I can only do it out there." Nox nodded towards the window and the looming city wall in the distance. "But I promise you this: when he returns, he will find me ready. And he will regret it."
Qapla stood there, his jaw working. He looked from Nox to Velyan, then back to Nox. "You've saved my life once," he said gruffly. "I can't forget that, no matter how irritated I am." He ran a hand over his braided hair . "I was stressed, angry… and I failed to consider what you were saying."
"What he means is he was scared." Velyan echoed out from the table.
"He was?" Adrastos asked.
"He was." Velyan said with finality
"I wasn't—" Qapla sighed deeply. "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry." He glowered at Velyan.
He stiffened, as if the admission was a physical pain. "What I'm trying to say is… I'm sorry."
Nox's expression, usually a mask of indifference, faltered. She looked genuinely taken aback.
"…It's all good," she finally said.
Qapla nodded stiffly. "I'm going get kitted up. I think we should head out to the guild as soon as possible. Get whatever information Helena has for us."
With that, he trotted upstairs and disappeared. The frozen air in the room finally began to thaw. "Well at least one of main points of contention has been solved, now to the rest," I turned to Velyan.
She was rubbing her temples, her eyes squeezed shut for just a second. The mask of the pragmatist wavered, replaced by a flash of genuine pain before she composed herself.
"How are you feeling?" I asked gently, "What happened yesterday?"
"Honestly." Velyan said, "After the deal, and the mist I don't remember anything. But my sense of smell and hearing has been going haywire all morning."
"In a good way or a bad one." Nox said as she pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Both." Velyan looked over at me, a flicker of dry amusement in her eyes. "The smell of the fire starting up for breakfast woke me up." She leaned in just a fraction. "But I can also smell that Qapla didn't bathe last night."
Nox, who had just taken a bite of bread, choked on it, pounding her chest. I couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. It was a real one, this time, sharp with relief.
Nox finally swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Gods. It's a curse, then. Not a gift."
Adrastos spoke up, "Now you know how I feel."
I laughed even harder, feeling the last of the icy tension in my shoulders melting away. It wasn't fixed. Not really, but the rest would come later. A joke here, a nudge there, and the group would rebuild itself.