5 November 2023

Their little campfire burned low, barely enough to cook on. Considering how deep they were into demon territory, it would probably have been better to do without completely, but none of them really pushed the issue.

Caldwell was telling them about some yearly festival they had back in his hometown, but Kyra was only half listening. Instead, she watched Gavin and Fera carefully. There was an odd tension between the two. Gavin’s jaw had been clenched all evening, and he didn’t sit next to Fera like he’d been doing. For her part, Fera shrank into herself, and she couldn’t stop fiddling with the engagement ring Gavin had given her. It was the exact opposite of how Kyra expected them to react after Gavin finally popped the question.

She knew Caldwell had been trying to ease the tension in his own way but it didn’t seem to make a significant difference. So as soon as there was a lull, she interrupted his story. “So what the hell is going on with the two of you? You’re acting like someone died, not like you just got engaged.”

“Actually, I… I turned him down.”

Kyra blinked slowly. She looked down at the ring Fera was fiddling with, then back up to her face. “What.”

Fera’s shoulders curled in even tighter. With no small trace of bitterness in his voice, Gavin said, “Tell them. They’re your friends. They have a right to know.”

At his words, Fera’s hands clenched tight. Kyra’s own stomach twisted,, but she never took her eyes off of Fera. For several long moments, no one spoke.

When Fera finally did speak, her voice cracked. “I… Even if everything goes well, I… I won’t be coming back. Even if the demon king dies, he’ll just come back. We have to seal him up, and to do that, I… I have to seal myself in with him.”

By the time she finished speaking, tears dripped down her cheeks. Despite that, still, she smiled, small and soft.

Kyra couldn’t tell if her thoughts had frozen in place, or if she was thinking so many things at once it all bled into nothingness. Once she’d started to calm down, her thoughts flickered to a desolate homestead, long ago. To the bloodied face her her dear husband, Roylan. To the immobile bodies of her two sons.

It was happening again. She’d finally healed enough to reach out to other people, to care about other people again, and she was going to lose them. And once more, there was nothing she could do about it.

She barely noticed the roar of anguish that tore through her throat, or the crack as she hurled one of her prized axes into the nearest tree. By the time her mind cleared, her own cheeks were wet, and she collapsed to her knees.

Kyra thought back to the bastards at the church, the ones sitting pretty on their thrones, while they sent a young girl–barely even nineteen–to give up her life for them. “Damn them. Damn them all.”

3 November 2023

I really struggled when I tried to participate in Nanowrimo for 2023. It didn’t go well, as you will see.

Three hundred years.

Three hundred years.

Kyra shouldn’t have been surprised; she’d known the seal was supposed to last a long time. She’d known all her friends would likely be dead if she ever got out. But then again… she hadn’t actually thought she’d ever get out, had she?

But she hadn’t died like she was supposed to. Instead, here she was, alone, again. And this time, the world itself felt foreign.

Kyra felt this keenly when Brinja pulled out a small, black tablet with shaking hands. She tapped on it a few times, then held it up to her ear. Considering everything the girl must have been through, she was holding herself together fairly well; Kyra was impressed.

The tablet produced a ringing sound, and then a woman’s voice emerged. “This is the Krotlin City Police Department. What is your emergency?”

Kyra jumped at the voice, but before she could react, Brinja replied, “H-hi, yes. My name’s Brinja Sonorak. I… I was kidnapped by some demon cultists, but I… They… they’re all dead now.”

There was a pause. “I see. Do you know your location, Miss Sonorak?”

“I-I’m not sure, but I think they took me to the demon king’s seal.”

“Okay, we have people on their way. Are you alright? Are you injured in any way?”

“N-no, I’m not injured. The person who rescued me stopped them before they could hurt me.”

“Is that person with you now?”

“Is that person with you still?”

“Yes. U-um…” Brinja shot a glance at Kyra. “She said her name is Kyra. And… and I think she’s probably the Kyra.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Could you tell me exactly what happened, Miss Sonorak?”

So she did. The more Kyra heard, the less she regretted killing the lot. Seriously, had nothing changed in that three hundred years she’d been sealed?

Then, she heard a series of roars and squeals, accompanied by blaring red and blue lights racing toward them. Kyra stepped protectively in front of Brinja and readied her axe, right as three white beasts raced around the corner. Then they opened, and Kyra realized these were some manner of carriage. Men and women in dark uniforms poured out, pointing some sort of metal object her direction. One of them, a tall, burly man, called out, “Lower your weapons and put your hands on your head!”

1 May 2023

I’ve always found fae fascinating. Deals, exact words, true names… I don’t know that I’ll do much more with these characters; perhaps finish this scene/short story, and leave it at that. But who knows? We’ll see.

The clank of a blacksmith’s hammer rang over the homestead. Fynn didn’t recognize the old man, though something did seem familiar about him. After looking around for a bit, Fynn finally found David. He called out to his old friend, with just a touch of suggestion laced into the words; he needed David’s help, and on the off chance he was still sore about what happened last time, a little… persuasion could go a long way. “Good day, old friend! How goes the farm?”

To Fynn’s surprise, the magic found now purchase in the young man, sliding right off him like water from a leaf in a rainstorm. The young man turned and gave him a puzzled look. “Do I… know you?”

Concern tickled at Fynn’s heart, but he hid it behind a jovial laugh. “Come now, David! Surely there are better times for games!”

Behind him, the clank of the hammer stopped. The blacksmith spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “Leave my son out of your schemes, Fynnelion Summerchild.”

Fynn was rocked to his core. Those words carried power, especially with the use of Fynn’s true name. What’s more, Fynn realized why the old man looked familiar. He spun slowly to face the blacksmith. “David?”

26 April 2023

This was fun. I think I do intend to do more with these characters at some point in the future. That said, I would like to focus more on Hanako and Majesty for the time being…

There are definitely some spots I’d tweak in this scene, though. The biggest one is that I’d like to have Kyra have a bit more banter with the cultists; give her a chance to actually confirm things are what they look like, and make it a more ironic twist for them before she kills them in some way. Also, without knowing the rest of the story (both Kyra’s past and where the story goes after this), it’s hard to set timelines, so all that may change.

Notes

Brinja (pronounced brin-ya) trembled in fear on the altar. She struggled against her bindings, but the ropes were too tight for her to break free. With tears in her eyes, she watched as the cultist raised a dagger to plunge into her heart.

Just before it fell, there was a sharp crack, and the seal on the great evil split. An eerie red light beamed from it, and the seal crumbled to pieces, revealing the figure of an eight-foot-tall humanoid monstrosity with horns on its head.

“My lord!” All the cultists, including the one holding the dagger, turned and knelt before the figure. 

For a long moment, the demon didn’t move. Then, slowly, it tipped forward, landing face down on the floor, and slowly disintegrated into dust.

From behind it, a tall red-headed woman in scarred leather armor stretched. “Oh, it’s good to be out of there. I hope Fera won’t mind that I went ahead and killed the thing… if she’s even around anymore, I guess.”

It was at that point she and Brinja made eye contact. There was something fierce in the woman’s eyes, and Brinja trembled even harder.

The woman’s gaze flickered over the cultists around her, drinking in the scene. Before she moved, the lead cultist gathered their wits and shuffled toward her, head bowed. “My, my Lady! Long have we awaited your return!”

With narrowed eyes, the woman simply said, “Have you now?” With a motion so smooth Brinja almost missed it, she spun one of the axes from her belt into her hand. A moment later, the axe-head blazed with an infernal violet flame. “Then I’d better give you the reward you bastards deserve.”

She launched herself toward the cultist, bringing the axe back, and Brinja squeezed her eyes shut. She had no way to block her ears, however, so she heard every thud of the axe, every scream and shout, every interrupted spell the cultists tried to cast before they were cut down.

Things were quiet for several moments before Brinja felt warm, rough hands working on her bindings. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see the woman tenderly untying her.

“Even who knows how many decades–maybe centuries–later,” the woman muttered, “and crap like this is still happening?”

Soon, she’d released Brinja, and the young girl stood shakily on her feet.

“Are you alright? Any injuries?” The woman looked over Brinja with concern.

With a shake of her head, Brinja replied, “No, I-I’ll be alright. Thank you!” She bit herr lower lip, then asked, “U-um, I hope you don’t mind, but… W-who are you?”

The woman relaxed. “I’m Kyra. What’s your name?”

Brinja’s head went blank. Kyra? The Kyra? The goddess of battle that sealed herself off with the demon lord to keep him from escaping [three hundred years ago]? A little awed, somehow Brinja managed to spit out, “It… it’s Brinja.”

“Right. Good to meet you, Brinja. And, er… Sorry if this seems strange, but by any chance, could you tell me what year it is?”