Birth of a Soulwielder
43rd of Frost, Year 384 of the Age of Sundering
Veriel had been staring at the ceiling of her bedroom for hours. Her eyes started to water, both from the lack of sleep and the anxiety building inside of her. Instead of resting to prepare herself, she spent the night imagining a thousand ways the initiation might go wrong. To make it worse the price for failing was not death, but rather to have her soul eternally trapped in a sword.
As the sun started peaking through her window, the siltori pulled herself out of bed and cleaned. Her thick black hair was pulled back into the neatest bun she had ever made and she dressed herself in black clothes that fitted to her body. With Iratallin strapped to her waist, Veriel made her way through the streets.
Her roommate, Chaya, was already gone by the time she woke. The orkhan was probably already at the armory, seizing that head start as always. They had been told to gather there before everything started. Four other people will be initiated today with Veriel, including Chaya. All of them were ones she had trained with these past two seasons. They would go one by one at the arena. If they were lucky, everyone would succeed and by the end of it, they could share drinks. Unfortunately, failed initiations were not an uncommon occurrence.
As she had predicted, Chaya was already rifling through a pile of steel boots when Veriel entered the armory. She was a striking sight as always, with ash-blue skin and bright red hair. Upon hearing the siltori’s approach, the woman looked up and grinned. “Veriel! You came early. I didn’t want to wake you up because you slept so late last night.”
“Barely even slept,” Veriel admitted as she walked over to the rack of leather armor, looking for a set that seemed about her size. Her stomach growled and she realized she had forgotten to get breakfast. “Can’t help thinking if it will be the last night of me with a mortal body, you know. Maybe by tomorrow, I’ll be trapped in this forever.” She rested her hand on the hilt of Iratallin.
The orkhan let out a hearty laugh. She barely looked worried. “You’ve been training the hardest out of all of us. You’ll be fine.”
The young siltori smiled a bit as she strapped a leather bracer on her right forearm. “That’s because I’ve been here the longest. Everyone that first arrived with me had already been initiated already.”
“It just means you have more time to perfect everything.” Chaya waggled her eyebrows at her as she finally picked up a pair of old steel greaves and shoved both of them on her feet. Besides, you have a secret weapon and there’s no way you’ll fail.”
Veriel raised an eyebrow at her companion. “Secret weapon?” She reached for the leg guards and started putting them on too.
“You think I don’t know that when you sneak out, you were getting trained by a certain winged sergeant?”
The siltori blinked in surprise. She didn’t realize anyone had noticed. They always practiced deep into the night and mostly away from common areas. While it wasn’t a secret, Veriel figured that the fewer people knowing would give her an edge somehow. “Were you following me?”
“You weren’t exactly the stealthy type,” Chaya pointed out as she folded her arms, inspecting the rows of axes in front of her. “It’s a little bit concerning how you didn’t notice a six-foot orkhan was tailing you. Definitely don’t join the pathfinders. Anyway, once we’re done, promise me you’ll tell me what that’s about.”
Veriel waved a her question. “There’s nothing to tell you. I think he took pity on me so I basically forced him to train me.”
“Well later tell me a story about that then.”
As Veriel helped the woman put on her chest plate, Chaya sighed. For the first time, she saw that the orc was indeed nervous. “Do you think I’ll make it?”
“If anyone is going to survive this initiation, it will be you, Chaya,” Veriel reassured, nudging the other girl with her shoulder. Even a novice like her could tell that her friend was naturally gifted in combat. “Every teacher we have couldn’t stop raving about how good you are with everything. It’s really annoying honestly.”
Her friend laughed as she in turn helped Veriel finish putting on her leather armor.. “I better hope they’re right then.”
That’s when more people started coming into the armory, the rest of the initiates and some knights, probably to give support. Chaya decided to approach them while Veriel opted to sit back on a bench. She didn’t have the strength for conversations right now. Unfortunately, that also meant she was allowed a moment with her thoughts and they were not the most encouraging.
She wouldn’t call herself someone who voluntarily prayed a lot, but Veriel clasped her hands around the sheathed blade and closed her eyes. She prayed to Akrivar for strength, to Lyren for wisdom, and to Drimera to save her.
It was only when she heard a familiar voice that she opened her eye.“Veriel.”
When she looked up, she was greeted with the sight of Endrik Shiryo clad in full dawnmartyr armor. It was the first time she had seen him in it and it suited him well. On their midnight training, the avialae always looked so casual so the sight of him for put together was rather jarring. His short blonde hair wasn’t messy, but rather slicked back to perfection and his eyes were a brighter blue than she had ever seen them. His gray wings were extended behind him, the pair of them colored like storm clouds. In his hands was a familiar-looking paper bag. Behind him, Chaya gave her a knowing smile before turning to talk with the other aspirants.
“Ryo,” Veriel exclaimed as she jumped to her feet. Looks were thrown their way after her outburst, so she cleared her throat nervously. “I mean, knight-sergeant. What brings you here?”
“I’m wishing my one and only pupil good luck, of course,” he said with a smile that made her stupid heart flutter. This really wasn’t the time for her to be swooning over a man, but her body refused to listen to her brain. “And I brought you breakfast. Maybe not exactly breakfast food, but I don’t know what else to bring you. You mentioned that you liked it before.”
The elf took the paper bag from him and as soon as she opened it, the warm and sweet scent wafted into her face. Inside were at least a dozen fried sesame balls. She did bring some to their training a couple of weeks before to share with him. It was such a considerate gesture that Veriel couldn’t help but laugh in surprise.
They then talked briefly about his experience getting initiated. This wasn’t the first time but listening to it hopefully would help her. Ryo started to remind her of the tricks and techniques he had shown her. But most of all, he said never to let her sword go.
“Do you know who I’ll be fighting?” the siltori finally dared herself to ask. She wasn’t even sure if knowing would make it any better.
He shook his head apologetically. “No, but it doesn’t really matter. This fight is you against yourself. As long as you can hold on to yourself, that’s a win.”
“Even now, I don’t know what that means,” Veriel grumbled.
“You’ll see what I mean once it begins and you’ll succeed.”
“What makes you so sure?”
He shrugged and grinned. “Because I have a really good feeling about you.”