The Weave

"You've got to be bloody lying," Zariel said incredulously, shaking his head at the transformation. He met the two round almond-shaped eyes glared up at him, holding his stare. He shook his head. " You seem nearly human." 

Aurelia puffed her cheeks. She had finally allowed herself a bath but still felt wronged. It had taken nearly two hours of constant shouts of Zariel constantly berating her before she had been allowed out of the icy waters. 

Snow white skin that bore a healthy flush seemed to radiate from off the surface of her body. Despite being too skinny, a child-like beauty encompassed the little girl so much so her eyes seemed to glow with a glamorous light. 

But she wasn't glaring because of that. She was glaring because when she had finally gotten out of the water, she had found Zariel burning her clothes. 

"I've left them to the hells," he solemnly said before she charged at him. 

And for the second time, Zariel found his laughter return. For an entire hour, Aurelia had attacked before she gave up. She had tried everything, but not once had she gotten close to him. 

She sighed, looking up at the grey skies, "What am I gonna do now?" Aurelia finally asked when she felt something warm brush against her naked chest. She looked, finding a small fur tunic made out of a bear he'd killed. 

"How'd you do that?" She asked him. "It takes days to—" She stopped noticing the deer fur he was wearing. Now that she had thought about it. How was he able to create clothing so quickly when it takes days for the furs to dry naturally? 

"I'm an Arcanist. Were lazy by nature." He explained to her. "Drawing the blood out of something to help it dry out faster is a simple task. Now get dressed. I'm not a nudist like my brother." 

Aurelia tilted her head. "What's a nudist?" 

Defeated by her innocent stare, Zariel sighed. "It's almost nearly evening. So, we'll officially begin your huntsman training in the morning. So I want to ask you. Do you know how to read or write?" 

She shook her head no. 

"Then, starting today, I'll teach you how to read and write." He explained, releasing a yawn as weariness had begun to overwhelm him. "Now, before we start anything… I've only one rule. Never. Ever. Touch my sword without my permission." He had an icy coldness that made Aurelia shudder. "Clear?" 

"Clear." She answered. 

"Good. Then let's eat, and we can begin your education." 

In the following weeks, Zariel had found himself busy, more so than he was before his Fall. Aurelia had been quite a genius in her own right. Aside from her inhumane strength that towered over most grown men, Aurelia's ability of comprehension had been quite remarkable. It had only taken her a day to master the art of reading and writing before she began learning the various runes and glyphs Zariel imposed on her. 

In the morning, Aurelia Morningstar would always wake with the rising of the sun. To which she'd learn the footwork of a sword alongside how to wield one. That had been her favorite, especially when she got to spar with Zariel. Though the battle usually ended in her swift defeat. She was slowly getting better in his eyes. A feat not many could say. His elder brother and Little sister outright refused to spar with him on account of his lack of control, nearly leading to them losing a limb or an eye on many occasions. 

Aurelia never once complained. She merely winced and soon after showed that silly smile of hers until noon arrived. That was when the hunt began. Afterward, it would be a quick bath in the river before she'd eat and begin her runic lesson. 

During these three weeks, Zariel didn't sleep, though not for a lack of trying. Thick, large bags had gathered beneath his eyes as insomnia festered through his mind like rot. He contemplated having Aurelia knock him out. But quickly rejected the idea. God knows what she'd do if he fell asleep before her. 

Regardless, Zariel spent most of his days and nights creating a new cultivation system to help refine the Arcana. 'A timely process,' he thought, missing his old lab back on Genesis. 

He sighed and reached into himself, seizing his spirit. He channeled it into his eyes, and from his vision, it came. Weaving and twisting an endless array of lines and nodes reminiscent of how neurons might communicate with one another shone like endless clusters of stars and stardust. 

The Weave was reflected through his pale eyes. 

What it was, Zariel couldn't say. For a thousand years, it had followed him, and seven Hell Cycles later, it had been by his side within the Hells. 

It had been the Weave that had shown him the Path to escape and the Weave that allowed him to tear his bloodline apart, in turn destroying his genetic makeup. He was only alive today due to the sword forged from his old bones, alongside his soul, that held him together. 

'It was necessary,' Zariel thought. High-tier bloodlines did not exist in the body but in the soul, allowing those who reincarnate to remain blessed even in death.

He had to destroy his bloodline to escape. The day he did, the Hells nearly tossed him out, unsure if his soul was the one it craved, allowing him a chance to escape. 

Suddenly, he frowned at a particular snow-white string threading into the forest. 'Intent,' he thought, standing up. "Come out," he demanded, fixing his gaze not on the person but on the string. 

"You sensed me," Came the startled voice of Livius, strutting towards the campfire. Covered in soot from head to toe, he looked as if he had bathed in ash.

'Did I not channel the Mirage correctly?' He wondered, lowering the hood of his cloak to reveal his deep rusted orange hair. "My name is Livius." He said, expecting an introduction, but none ever arrived. He frowned. " I'm an initiate at the Arcane College of Trinity." 

Again, he was met with silence. 

"My fellow Initiates and I are investigating a strange phenomenon that happened about a month ago." He continued trying to glean some sort of insight from the boy's expression. But all he saw was a wall of stone. "Might I ask what you can recount that day?"

Zariel looked up at the starry skies and down to the Initiate. "It's midnight." 

Livius looked confused. "What's that got to—" 

"Don't you know it's rude to barge into someone's home in the midst of the night demanding information? Especially when I found you skulking around like a rat." 

"I'm sorry, but this is a pressing matter," Livius said, scrunching a brow. 

"To you, not to me," Zariel told him, returning to his resting spot beside the fire. "Go away. I've no information for you." 

"But you were here when it happened, were you not? Surely you, a practitioner of the Arcanes, ought to—" 

"Leave me alone," Zariel said, closing his eyes at the popping of firewood. 

"Then what about that girl? Surely, she must have seen something. " Livius exclaimed, snapping his eyes to the sprawled-out Aurelia sleeping with a face full of bruises. Behind her was the shadow of a cottage Zariel and Aurelia had been creating. "Wake her up and—" 

"Are you stupid?" Zariel seriously asked him, observing the string of intent turn shades of red. 'Aggression,' he thought, frowning. "I told you we know nothing." 

"Do you have any idea how long we've been stuck in this forsaken place?" Livius spat. "It took a week to get here. And we've been here an entire month! This mission was only supposed to take at most two weeks." he reached into his cloak to the hoister on his hip. "Now wake her up before I—" 

"Before you what?" Zariel fired back, unimpressed. "Kill two children? Have you ever killed before?" he narrowed his eyes, holding Livius in his gaze. "If not, then piss off."

Livius lowered his palm, deterred, and tried to recompose himself. "Look. Just tell me what you saw that day, and I'll leave." 

Zariel was beginning to lose his patience. He stood up with something heavy in his silvery eyes. 

Aurelia stirred then, opening her eyes, her vision still murky, as she rubbed them, yawning. "Big Brother… what's going on?" 

"You there, girl! What happened the day the lightning fell." Livius demanded. 

As fast as he spoke, he barely glimpsed the bright flash of emerald iridescent light, so radiant it nearly seemed blinding, shrieking through his shoulder, carving through trees and grass like water. He froze, looking down at the arm that slipped off his shoulder.

And it came: A cry so deep it echoed from his depths hounded the night, gnawing at the back of Livius's throat, snapping all who heard it awake. 

Beneath the Four Moons, thick slivers of blood painted the moss-green grass a deep shade of red as Livious thrashed back and forth, clutching his missing arm. 

"My Arm! My arm! Ahhh! My Arm! My Arm!" He wailed, unbothered by the warm liquid piss spoiling his trousers. "Give it back! Give it back!"

"Homebrew Zero Spells are indeed the best," Zariel mused to himself, approaching with a wisp of emerald light twirling around his two fingers. He pressed his foot over Livius's head and said. " Now, I'm torn. Do I kill you or let you live." 

"No!" Livios pleaded, his voice hoarse. "Don't! Don't! I'm an Initiate!" He cried, aching a coldness that reached his bones. 

"At least have dignity when you die," Zariel told him, wondering if there was any worth in killing this man beyond his earlier insolence. 

"Please…" Livius whispered, his voice weak with blood loss. "I… I don't… I don't want… to… Die." 

"As my sister would say, sounds like a personal problem." He said, cutting down his finger when Aurelia caught his wrist.

"You can't!" shouted Aurelia.

Zariel's expression turned pale, and in a single motion, thick, chunky brown vomit spewed from his mouth and onto Livius. He jerked his arm away from her hold. 'Don't touch me! Did you wash your hands? Hells! I'm dead." 

"You saw me, wash up before bed," Aureila snapped, feeling wronged. Every time she'd touch Zariel, he'd either puke or turn green. The only time it was fine was when he initiated contact. 

"... but did you use soap?" 

"What?" She wondered if he was getting worse. "You Big Dumb Dumb! Are you really going to kill him?" 

Zariel grumbled. "Why not? He invaded my home and threatened me," he argued, rinsing out his mouth with a wooden flask of water.

"Seems quite reasonable to me."