Ch 85: Begin
Lucien sat in his private study room. The bookshelves lined the corners and were filled with volumes both old and new. Books were arranged with the kind of quiet diligence that spoke of a man who valued order and discipline above everything.
At the centre of the room stood a desk with a single chair behind it, and before it sat two more chairs, just as they were arranged in his office room at the academy. But, currently Lucien was not in the academy building but was rather in his private villa that had been given to him by the academy so that he might remain within the academy’s walls and lend his strength in times of emergency. And, he had gladly accepted the villa despite the fact that his family owned a private mansion in the very Solarin city that housed the academy.
Beside the desk, near to the corner of the room, a pair of sofas faced each other across a small glass table, and behind Lucien hung one wide window, its glass panels pushed open to either side.
The starry night sky stretched through the open frame, and the air that drifted in was cold and sweet, moving gently across his neck and down the length of his arms, carrying with it the kind of natural ease that no A.C. from his old life could replicate. It was like the very air of this world was different from his old world’s.
And, he knew it was foolish to think that the very air of this world was different, and yet he could not entirely dismiss the thought when the cold pressed against him with such quiet comfort. He drew in a slow, deep breath, set down the book he had been reading, and rose from his chair.
Lucien walked toward the window and came to a stop just before its frame, his hands slipping into the pockets of his trousers. Above them he wore a black shirt, its sleeves rolled up to the elbows as he always preferred. He gazed out at the starry night sky, the stars twinkling with bright silver light while the moon hung above in the shape of a curved crescent banana, casting a faint and warm red hue across the darkness below.
Lucien narrowed his eyes and peered toward the northern mountains visible in the distance.
Lucien tightened his jaw. He had to go there without noticing anyone. The thirst that had been building inside him since the afternoon had grown restless and unrelenting, bubbling like a volcano inside him.
His fingers twitched at his sides, his breaths came shallow, and his lips had been dry for hours. It was difficult to endure this, more difficult than it had been on any other days.
On other days when the feeling crept upon him he would manage to suppress it, to hold it down through sheer composure and outlast it for days if he had to, but tonight was merciless. He had wanted, even in the full daylight in the afternoon, to slip away and cut down a beast or two, and only through will and force had he managed to hold himself back until now, waiting with rigid patience for the right hour to arrive.
Lucien turned his head toward the clock hanging on the wall. It read ten past ten. He looked one last time around his study room, then stepped up onto the window frame and leapt out, vanishing instantly into the night like a gust of wind that had no visible form.
***
Lucien came to a stop outside the outer walls of Solarin City. The walls rose high into the night sky, built from enormous white stone blocks stacked against each other, their height enough to stop a huge beasts from entering into the city.
Lucien had moved through quietly, and he was certain, with the surety of long experience, that no one had seen him pass.
Before him the mountains rose in a great unbroken line, peak after peak arranged like a natural fortress wall, separating the human settlement from the miasma beasts that prowled and festered on the other side. Their summits reached well above even the outer walls, looming like a vast and ancient barrier.
And yet, for all the confidence the higher powers placed in that natural wall, for all the assurance they projected to the rest of the world, it was not as impenetrable as they made people believe.
Lucien knew this with certainty. In the not-so-distant future the miasma beasts would find their way over those peaks and descend upon Solarin City, and when that day came, he would need to be prepared. He would need to limit the damage as best he could, carefully, without overstepping, without stealing away the stepping stones that were meant for main characters to grow and become familiar with each other.
The mountainside was draped in thick forest, the slopes covered in lush greenery, trees standing dense and tall in every direction, with patches of grass filling the gaps between the roots. And though the mountain range served as that natural fortress, it was no rare thing for a miasma beast to wander down to this side, drawn by instinct or aggression. For that reason, knights and guards were stationed along the outer wall, and patrols moved through the forest at intervals, searching for any signs of any miasma beast that might have crossed the mountain. Lucien hoped he would not cross paths with any of those patrolling knights tonight.
Lucien drew his sword Darkness from the dimensional ring on his finger. The blade's deep, absolute black colour did not pale against the night’s darkness, it was dark in a way that devoured the silver light of the moon and the stars both, swallowing it without reflection or trace.
Lucien raised the sword before his face and drew one finger slowly along its blade that had jutted out thorns.
"Tonight," he murmured, his voice low and certain, "I will bathe you in a river of blood."
The sword pulsed wildly against his grip, thrumming with a joy that resonated into his palm. Though beneath that thrill, Lucien could sense the sword's faint and buried resentment at being wielded by someone who was not its original master. Lucien did not dwell on it any longer than it was necessary.
What mattered more was the sword's hunger, because that hunger matched his own. He felt his blood begin to boil. His throat, which had been parched since the afternoon, now craved to have that dryness broken by the act of killing, by severing the heads of beasts, by letting violence do what patience could not.
His whole body understood that the thirst would soon be quenched.
His tongue, tasteless and dry for hours, began to pulse with a rush of sensation, filling his mouth with warmth. His heart was hammering hard against his ribcage, not with fear but with the sharp ecstasy that preceded the act of cutting something down. His toes were restless inside his boots, pressing and twisting against each other, urging him to blur past the tree line, cross to the other side, and begin. His shoulders trembled faintly with anticipation.
Lucien did not make his body starve a moment longer. He shot into the forest, blurring past the trees at a speed even greater than before. He vaulted through branches, threaded between trunks, and leaped cleanly over the roots that sprawled across the ground like traps set by the earth itself.
Tonight, he would not return until the thirst was completely gone.
***
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