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5 Memories (2)
publish date:
2026-03-25 02:37:20
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Foundling 6 Breakout (3)
It was stark and clear as if he lived the moment. But how could he, being but a babe and no more aware of the whole of the world than a newborn could be.It made him angry that such remembrances had been barred from recollection; and there were still more. But that was not a concern he could dwell on. His time was growing short. What was happening within the cell cold not long remain unnoticed by the Master outside.Mind ticked like a clock from moment to memory to emotion. Muscles taught, a spring ready to explode. He had no more time Huner stood as if the shackles at his wrists or the weight of the chains were no account. He stepped forward and the chains, held by the bolt in the floor, snapped tight. He leaned into it, curling his arms forward, getting all the leverage he could.The creeping frost edged beneath the cell door.Hunter relaxed, then surged forward, shocking the metal. It chimed. Rime fell away. Fractures quickened its length, widening into cracks. Iron fragments clatt
Foundling 6 Breakout (2)
While Hunter’s body trembled and muscles strained, his mind remained still. As ki was consumed, the force he had unleashed grew stronger and tried to escape from the hand that checked; and the crystal serpent grew; and the frost crept forward to coat everything in the room.Hunter struggled to halt its advance, and in that struggle another door to memory opened.How far to go? How much travail until they became lost to rival ambitions which had invaded her world, her cities, here home. They counseled fleeing to the edge of shadow. the unknown, the Dark from notice became lost from the could no longer be found, until he could not be found. Many lives had been sold in their flight. Moving between worlds, battling fiends and foul beasts as they fled, and resting when they could.They had been traveling for days, weeks, and there had been no more attacks. They had reached beyond or lost those who pursued them. According to the World Walker, they would be there soon, but fatigue had overta
Foundling 6 Breakout
Returning to himself, he knew what he must do. It was only a partial memory, and there were many more, fuzzy and unclear. Things he needed to know. But the beast fought back, concealed them behind a whispering, inchoate drone like that of a beehive. He ignored it and settled into stillness. He tapped the beast’s boundless rage, its hate, its fear, its longing. its loss: his rage, his hate, his fear, his loss, his longing. When had it become like this? When had they become split? Strangely, he found succor with those feelings; a place to brood with the beast away from more nurturing (even to think the word was distasteful) concerns.Hunter shook himself and settled deeper into stillness to purge those distracting affections, but also, willfully, looked to the nurturing love his mother had gifted him. He wanted to give no sustenance to the beast. From the root, cold began to spiral. However, it did not spiral out but in. Cold, blue fire licked across the surface of things, and drew
Foundling 5 Memories (2)
She cherished these days away from the realities of war that would someday find them. She knew it, steeled herself for it, trained him for it, but her immediate concern was for his wounds. His lacerated side had stopped weeping blood, and the wound between the fleshy part of thumb and forefinger already closing. Satisfied, she led him back to the house and sat him on a stool at the entrance to the house while she went inside.The stool, as with the table chairs, and bed, she had made. All were roughly hewn, but sturdy—as was everything crated by her hand. Spying from the shadow of windows and lanes, she had learned the necessary skills or had taught herself. She had carved spindles, legs and seat, bored the holes to fit. With no other recourse, everything within and without the cottage she had made or thieved. Her son waited outside, fidgeting, focusing on what was in front of him while his mother moved about inside. He knew what she was doing; opening lids on boxes; pouring tin
Foundling 5 Memories
Jealousy, hate, envy, anger, and the other emotions and shadings in between, Hunter experienced. They were stark, comprehensible, invigorating. They fed him and the whisper grew louder. It was not something separate from himself. It was more as if something deep within was welling up, crowding out Hunter’s own thoughts and desires, filling him with . . . hunger, rage.Hunter recognized the erratic, rambling, distorted specter, the cold dispassionate droning, as the rage, suppressing all reason and compassion, that used to overwhelm him before he arrived at the School. He did not need unreason and rage, however. He needed a clear and precise focus, a mind unencumbered. Secreted within that hunger were glimpses of possibilities and insights he had never dreamed of. Accessing those possibilities, however, would mean succumbing to rage and letting the rage rule, but the whispers delivered a seductive message unencumbered by any moral constraints, freeing him to be ruled only
Foundling 4 Prisoner (2)
Everything Hunter had attained was all for naught. He was once again that strange, fey youth of the soulless eyes, different, a great unknown synonymous with the mystery and opportunity afforded by this land.“You are none of those things.”“How am I not, Master Poe?” The sadness and hopeless despair in Hunter’s voice became light, nostalgic. “You are the closet to being able to share, to feel the heart of a thing.”“Only through you Hunter.”“No. I think that is who are. Have ever been. Tete once shared the thought of it.”That struck them both. It was the first time Hunter had spoken of his den mate in several years.“A useless gift.”Hunter knew his Master did not mean it. It was a jab at something beyond them both.“No gift is useless. So it is said.”“If used to appropriate ends.”“So it is preached.”Contrary to the note of despair permeating every vine of conscience and unconscious thought, the mood had shifted to something light, less daring.“I did not think it to end so soon
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