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Capture (1)

Author: Aricka Allen
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-01-18 06:39:25

Hunter moved quickly and surely, avoiding some, giving signs of himself to divert others from his true objective, and when he had been trapped, every arrow that had landed he had felt their pain as a palpable blow, but he would not allow that empathy to overwhelm him.

He wanted to scream his frustration, cut the ache from his heart. He had come to honor the discipline and teachings of the School, the values it espoused, its objectives and goals for the New Land. Now, all that was now lost to hi
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  • Foundling   7 Getaway (2)

    Hunter arrived at the Armory. The bow was not there. From Master Philip’s memory, he thought they would be. His calmness and focus made him unemotional. (The Beast snarled.) His emotionlessness, however, did not mean he did not care, and the absence of his bow almost broke that calm, made him indecisive. He could not remain, could not stay, but he would not leave without the bow, and if he stayed to retrieve it, there would be a fight, and in that fight, there would be blood and worse. The decision to be made was obvious, easy, and he took it along with a sheathed rapier.A moving shadow captured no light as it flowed through the corridors from cornices, across walls, along ceilings. Suspicions were not roused at its passage, no mind incited to investigate. It was as if neither he nor they existed outside the bubble of their own presence, and inside shadow, the implacable deadness of his features were hidden.The Beast mocked, whispered: Give in. Be unincumbered by the shallow regard

  • Foundling   7 Getaway

    When the alarm came, Poe was still in the Magister’s quarters. They were the first ones at the cell. Master’s Philip’s body was rigid from the cold touch of the serpent, his hair had turned white, and his eyes were wide on some horror only he could see.Poe placed his hand against his chest, and the frown that came to his lips deepened the cragged lines of his face.“There is no wound, but the cloth above his heart is wet. There is also no residual ki anywhere to be found in his body.”In the cell, every surface was covered in a watery sheen. Poe squatted to examine the metal fragments littering the floor. They were hard, brittle. Maybe, with enough force of will, and strength of body . . . just maybe?“What is left of his chains?”“Yes.”The Magister cast his eyes along the lines and face of the cell, to the bolt where a chain had once been fixed.“The room is also depleted of ki,” Poe said.“Has the twin talent awakened?”“He has never shown those qualities.”“Many things he has nev

  • 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

  • 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 despa

  • Foundling   4 Prisoner

    Hunter sat on a cold stone bench in the corner of a cold stone room. Small, ill lit, barred by the locked, thick bolt in the heavy, banded oaken door with a Mage standing duty just beyond that. He was still chained but had better learned to manage the weight of the dangling shackles now attached to

  • Foundling   3 Deliberation

    From most of the Magi in the stalls, there were only hard-eyed stares and very little sympathy. In a few, there was compassion and consideration. In others doubt and uncertainty, but would that uncertainty outweigh the pressure to find Hunter fully accountable. There had to be a full consensus, and

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