Chapter 13: Lost Wind

Chapter 13: Lost Wind The sky became slightly clouded over Castaway Valley, the roads darkened, and Lucen glanced up, hoping it wouldn’t rain. There was still so much he had planned for today. Liam glanced sideways at him and asked. "What the hell are you?" Lucen ignored him, this wasn’t the first time Liam asked the question. "Haaa, ignored again," Liam sighed. "It’s just strange, I’ve only ever seen you smile or laugh like twice—and it was at the Farrowmount." "That unfortunate creation is the funniest-looking thing I’ve ever seen," said Lucen evenly. "Do I get a prize for smiling all the time?" "No, but you’re too gloomy. If I were as rich as you, I’d smile in my sleep." Lucen considered his words, they stung somewhere inside. He always had everything he needed since the day he was born—in two lives. "Crack a good joke for once, and I may smile." "Oh, don’t be sulky," Liam teases, looking over his shoulder at three girls staring at them. "Good-looking and rich, life really gives the best shit to the most ungrateful sods." Lucen grabbed the back of his neck and made him apologise. Once they were back to walking, the thought that people were actually looking at him made his walk feel awkward. Like his legs weren’t straight. Lucen had seen himself in a mirror. He had Selene’s flowing blonde hair and Mesthor’s regal golden eyes. He sometimes felt so comfortable and handsome, but most of the time it was like he could still feel the oil on his skin and see his old self under the skin. Suffice to say, he avoided mirrors. They never helped anyone. "What?" Liam grinned. "Do their stares offend you?" "Follow the person’s eyes, not their hands," Lucen recited. "Follow the person’s logic, not their actions. Stares are never as simple as they seem." "I asked for how you feel, not for a Highcraft lesson." "You’d be less shit if you listened," Lucen growled. "They may just be standing there, but if they could, they’d chuck me out the gates. You might not mind a half-blood, but others do." Liam stared over the crowd and pursed his lips. "It doesn’t matter what they think." Lucen wished that was true. ■——■ The Sage’s was eerily normal. The low stone walls and brown thatched roof—nothing seemed to scream magic to him. Till Liam knocked on the door. His hand barely touched the door, but it swung open like it was waiting for them. The door opened soundlessly to an empty hall with multiple doors. A simple painting hung over a cheap wooden table, and the floors and objects were clean and spotless. But the smell was daunting, like dead animals and sulphurous poison. Liam and Lucen looked at each other once and began to turn back when a voice called out to them. "Are you going to turn back after taking so long to find me?" A short, cleanly dressed woman said, walking out of one of the three doors in the hallway. "I don’t know, ma. This feels like a death trap," said Liam politely. She shook her head, exasperated. "Courage must have been destroyed with their heart. Men no longer have any bravery." "Are you truly selling magic art?" asked Lucen straightforwardly. She simply waved them in and walked back through the door she came out of. They looked at each other once, Liam’s silent pleas and Lucen’s casual resolve. ■——■ The sage’s living room was simply decorated with straw chairs and a polished coffee table that she used to serve them tea. Lucen and Liam exchanged looks as she dropped the cups of black tea and decided to get right to business. "We have a modest amount of money," Liam explained, "so rather than settle down, we’d like to talk about prices first." Lucen let Liam, who was dropping most of his savings and had more experience haggling, do the talking. The loan from Liam still irked him, but he was a knight now; a few hunts would be enough to pay him back. It was still unpleasant, however. The witch sat down and took a sip of her tea, savouring the scent. She opened her eyes and said. "Some things need to be done in the right order, of course, skipping steps is fun. But I’d like to start with knowing your names." "Lucen Lightcloak," he answered immediately. "I’m Liam—Hosewits, Liam Hosewits," his friend said, more scattered. "My name is Lost Wind. I am from the Mirrored Lakes and served under the great demigod, Thallor the Last Sight." They both sat up; Lucen became more excited. "Um... we’re just knights. Well, I’m a knight, he’s a bum." Liam punched him but kept his eyes on Lost Wind. "So why did you come here, to sell your magic arts, Miss... Lost?" "Call me Windy," Lost Wind said blankly. "Ok..." they both said, a bit taken aback. "In the Eshara, there was a prophecy among the War-readers of a chosen champion that would repair the heart." She paused to take another sip of the tea. "Lord Thallor believed this prophecy had been cut short and managed to learn the rest. It was to be a Lightcloak of the same name as their founder, Lucen." "The King of Elaris is a man whose name is unknown. He is simply called the Veiled King. All that is known about him is that he was chosen by the Halo and Menian court. But among the demigods, most of them even support this stranger." Windy stared deeply into Lucen’s eyes. "There is something happening that a select group of people were allowed to know. Lord Thallor did not submit to this king because he wasn’t told." The air turned colder. Lucen reached to control his mana, but Windy continued. "I have no problems with you, Lucen," she explained, "I don’t really even trust the prophecy. I think by now you should understand that what you know may never be fully complete." Lucen nodded slowly. "You believe the prophecy has been tampered with?" "There are many prophecies. Most may never happen because they aren’t known. I have a simple test for you. If you can complete it, I will give you a high-rank spell of wind magic." "I don’t want get caught in the middle of a feud between demigods," Lucen said, standing up to leave. "Then in three months, you’ll most likely be dead," she said, sipping from her tea once again. "I don’t trust prophecies much, but I can see a thunderstorm coming when the sky turns dark." A crack of lightning came from outside, followed by the sharp sounds of rain falling against the roof. Lucen had been still for a while. He returned to his seat and asked carefully. "What do you want from me?" Windy’s wrinkled face and grey eyes were steely and calm. "There’s a thief in this town, holding on to a spear he stole from the capital treasury. I will give you two minor spells. Bring him to me. Alive, please."