Nevermore: of Ryn and Reese

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  • Published: 30 Oct 2016
  • Updated: 19 Nov 2016
  • Status: Complete
Reese has grown up in the world of the aftermath of a devastating war, raised by what used to be the enemy of humans: the Scintulla. Now, though, someone wants to finish off the scarce Scintulla, as revenge for the decimated human race. (endfic comp)

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3. Claramet

"Well, well, well," says a raspy voice. "Look what we have here." Ryn and Reese's eyes fly open.

Ryn's black hair flames, casting menacing shadows upon the enemy. Many of them gasp and step back.

"Fools!" yells the leader. "Compose yourselves!"

While Reese's hand goes to a special dagger; the handle made of white stone with Scintulla markings. The blade is an eight inches long, made of silver, bathed in the holy waters of the Scintulla's homeland. She wields it, holding the blade over her hand.

"I see the girl wields the demon magic," says the leader. "Claramet."

"It's not demon magic," says Reese. 

"Don't respond," says Ryn, sounding strained.

"And has one of those knives," says the leader, licking his dry, cracked lips. "One of those very nice, expensive knives."

"Meta knife," mutters Reese.

"Shut it," Ryn says urgently, still irritated. 

"It's been a while," says the leader loudly, "since I've seen a Kirin."

Ryn grits his teeth.

"He's not..." begins Reese, but restrains herself.

"Or are you one of those horse things?" taunts the leader. "Icky-nus?"

"Equignis," murmurs Reese. Ryn glares daggers at her.

"Anyhow, it doesn't matter. That knife and the capture of whatever that creature is are sure to make me rich!"

Reese brings the blade down slowly to her hand, and cuts her calloused hand. The blood runs red, with silver mixed in, from the Meta knife.

"Qikeg uj peklx, suzavw zexler qa, ju lerjav qy juaw fox rux orxu jaixl."

"She uses Claramet!" screams the leader, stepping back. "Attack!"

Reese's blood glows silver, though, and the blood that runs to the ground races towards the enemy's feet. As they race, the blood glows silver again and then turns red. It solidifies and all their feet are stuck to the ground.

"Unbind us at once, witch!" yells the leader. "We will have our revenge on you! You dare not harm the chosen of Targaten!"

Reese walks up to the leader, and smears blood over his mouth and murmurs, "Juop faiwx, juop wsizr uj Xivkixar, e ju wu qina xly qoxa." He tries to speak again, but has been rendered use by Reese's magic.

Ryn snarls, and the fires die a bit.

"Let's go," says he.

Ryn and Reese walk away.

After a while, they speak.

"'Foul beast'?" asks Ryn. "Really? 'Magic of light, powers within me, do hinder my foes but not unto death.'? 'Foul beast, foul spawn of Targaten, I do so make thy mute'? What are you from, the Dark Ages?"

"I don't know exactly what that is, but no. They're the first words that came to me, Ryn. Old fashioned, yes, but I don't care." Ryn shrugs.

"And you shouldn't have used Claramet. It's dangerous."

"It's what I know how to do, Ryn. And I only use it every now and again. Mostly for defense, and sometimes just for practice."

"How long has this practice been going on?" asks Ryn, suddenly incredulous.

"You always blow everything out of proportion, Ryn," sighs Reese.

"And since I was twelve, after, you know..."

"Do not bring it up."

"I'm not gonna. But after that, I got rusty and practiced. I'm decent at it, Ryn. It's what I know how to do."

"But you use blood, Reese. Use too much and you could die."

"I know that, and that's another reason I only use it occasionally."

"But why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you'd tell me to stop."

"Yes."

"But I don't want to stop, Ryn." Reese has stops walking and turns to face Ryn. "It's a part of me now. I've been learning and refining since I was six years old, Ryn. I can do it. I'm able to heal myself after I cut. No scars! I bleed to do magic - minimally- and then I heal myself. I haven't felt dizzy since I was fourteen, Ryn. Fourteen!"

"That was two years ago. You're by no means a master."

"I know I'm not a master, but I'm not a novice, either!"

"Intermediate isn't good enough."

"Good enough for what?" exclaims Reese, frustrated with Ryn.

"You're sixteen, Reese. You're a child."

"No, a child is someone or something with a childhood. Scavenging forests for food and learning to cut yourself for magic isn't a childhood - that's survival. But you know what? I'm grateful for that. Because I know how to survive. With Claramet, I can build a fire, protect myself, even if it is mediocre."

"Then why don't you just leave?!" bellows Ryn. His hair burns white hot, and shoots several feet up before returning to a red flicker. "Then why don't you just leave, if you think you're so grown up?"

"Because you're my family, Ryn," says Reese, her heart breaking a little. "At least I thought you were."

"We haven't been family for four years, Reese. We've been travelling companions, and nothing more."

"Well, I didn't know that. Thanks for clearing that up." Reese turns on heel, as the tears stream down her cheeks.

She runs away from the last of what she thought was her family.

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