Vengeance Through Passion

Aricia stood speechless, her mind racing with what had just happened. The mages had left as quickly as they had arrived, disappearing into the night without so much as a word of explanation. The remnants of their battle with Darius still lingered in the air-the raw power of magic, both light and dark, seemed to cling to the space around her.

Freya stretched out in the corner, shaking her head, her usual nonchalant expression firmly back in place. "Well, that was intense," she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Aricia didn't respond right away. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" she asked suddenly, her voice quiet but filled with urgency.

Freya blinked in surprise, turning to look at her friend. "And then what?" she snapped, her voice sharper than usual. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"

Aricia's heart was pounding now, her concern overpowering her hesitation. "They'll kill him," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

"And I'm sure there's a good reason for that," Freya shot back, rolling her eyes. "Wait, are you serious this moment?" She stood up, her full height making her even more imposing, her expression incredulous. "He's a sorcerer, Ricia. One of the worst. Did you see what he was doing? You can't be thinking about helping him!"

Aricia opened her mouth to respond, but before any words could form, her feet were already moving. Without thinking, she bolted toward the door, her breath catching in her throat as she threw it open. The cold air hit her like a wave, but it did nothing to clear her head. Her heart was still racing.

She stopped just outside the cottage, frozen by what she saw.

Arthur was dragging Darius away. The sorcerer's body was limp, his cloak dragging behind him in the dirt as if he weighed nothing at all.

The scene struck Aricia hard. Bystanders-villagers-were gathered, watching in hushed silence as Arthur pulled Darius further away from the village. They didn't step forward to help. No one dared intervene.

Aricia's breath hitched. Her eyes followed Arthur, watching his broad frame disappear into the shadows of the trees at the village's edge. She took a step forward, then stopped, frozen by doubt and fear.

She just stood still without uttering a word further.

***

A few day had passed since the workmen from Ysadora had last visited the cottage, their final repairs now a fading memory etched into the walls and floors. Aricia, standing outside, let her eyes drift over the quiet surroundings.

As she set off toward the blacksmith's shop, the village slowly came to life around her. Merchants began setting up their stalls, mothers called to their children, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery. Yet, Aricia's mind was focused on her destination. Her steps were purposeful, though there was a slight nervous energy in the way she moved.

The blacksmith's shop came into view, and as she neared the forge, the familiar clang of metal filled the air. Sparks flew as Raeneth worked the bellows, stoking the flames of the forge, while Ser Azariel stood overseeing the progress.

"Oh, look who it is. The lady knight," Ser Azariel called out, his deep voice rising above the sounds of the shop.

Aricia smiled faintly as she approached. "I'm not a knight yet, Ser Azariel," she responded, stepping into the warmth of the forge.

"Aye, but soon to be," he replied, wiping his hands on his leather apron. His bearded face broke into a smile, and despite his intimidating figure, there was always a warmth in his eyes when he spoke to her. "I'm sure of it. This time will be different."

Raeneth, barely pausing from his work, called out from the back of the shop, his voice laced with teasing. "Isn't it your eighth time?"

"Ninth," Ser Azariel corrected, with a hint of amusement. "But nine is a lucky number."

Aricia chuckled softly.

"This is it," he said, lifting the sword with care. "Made with the finest bronze in all of Athame."

Aricia's fingers brushed over the hilt as she took it from him. The balance was perfect. She unsheathed it slightly, catching the glint of the blade in the light before sliding it back into its scabbard.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, looking up at Azariel. "I will remember this."

He chuckled deeply. "You can pay me back by becoming a knight. Make it worth the bronze."

Raeneth, glancing over at Aricia, frowned slightly. "What about your gloves? Last I remembered, you always had them on. It's very cold in the upper city, and you'll need a good grip."

Well, that's what everyone believed.

Aricia flexed her fingers, feeling the tight bandages around her palms. "The bandages will do, Raeneth. I'll manage."

Ser Azariel handed her the sword carefully, his eyes softening as he spoke. "Take it, child. And may this be your last journey to the upper city."

With a grateful nod, Aricia slung the sword over her back, the familiar weight settling against her as she turned to leave the blacksmith's shop.

She stepped back into the now-bustling village streets, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

After a short walk, she arrived at the carriage station on the outskirts of town. The station was modest-just a few benches under a weathered wooden awning, and a small stable where the horses were hitched. The sounds of hooves on stone and the occasional creak of leather straps filled the air. Travelers milled about, some preparing for long journeys, others bidding farewell to loved ones.

A weathered carriage, painted dark green with scuffed wheels and worn leather seats, was waiting near the station's entrance. The driver, a grizzled man in his fifties with a thick salt-and-pepper mustache, leaned against the side of the carriage, chewing on a piece of straw. He looked up as Aricia approached, his sharp blue eyes scanning her quickly.

"Off to the upper city, miss?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

"Yes," Aricia replied, handing over a few coins for the fare. "To Unagi."

He pocketed the coins and nodded. "Hop on, in then. It'll be a long ride. Only a few more passengers to go, but we'll make good time if the roads stay clear."

Aricia climbed into the carriage, settling herself into one of the worn leather seats near the window.

A few other passengers were already inside-an older woman with a child on her lap.

After a few moments, the driver clambered onto the front of the carriage and snapped the reins. The horses, strong and sturdy, began to pull the carriage forward, and they set off down the dirt road that led out of the village.

As the carriage rolled along, Aricia looked out the window, watching as the familiar sights of the village. But it wasn't long before the village disappeared behind them, and the landscape began to change. The road wound through thick forests, the trees casting long shadows across the path as the sun rose higher in the sky.

The ride was quiet for the first hour, the steady creak of the carriage and the soft jingle of harnesses providing a comforting rhythm. Occasionally, the driver would shout a command to the horses, but otherwise, there was little conversation among the passengers.

Eventually, the carriage reached a small clearing where the driver slowed the horses to a halt. The woman with the child stepped down, her young boy looking up in awe at the towering trees around them.

"This is as far as I go," she said to the driver before turning to her son. "Come along, now."

Aricia watched as they disappeared into the woods, then leaned back in her seat, her thoughts drifting to the upper city.

As the road grew steeper and the forest gave way to rocky hills, the landscape around them changed once more. In the distance, the towering gates of Unagi came into view, a fortress-like city nestled high in the mountains. The white stone walls gleamed in the sunlight, the banners of noble houses fluttering in the breeze.

The driver slowed the carriage as they neared the city gates, which stood tall and imposing, guarded by a pair of armored soldiers. Aricia felt a surge of excitement and trepidation as the carriage came to a stop.

"Well, here we are, miss," the driver said as he opened the carriage door. "The upper city. Good luck with whatever business you have got here."

"Thank you," Aricia said, stepping down from the carriage and looking up at the imposing gates of Unagi.

The upper city was a realm of privilege and luxury, far removed from the earthy, hardworking people of her village. Here, the streets were wide, the buildings tall and imposing, and the air seemed crisper.

The high walls glistened with the sheen of polished stone, and the smell of incense and rare spices lingered. Merchants lined the streets with colorful stalls, offering wares too costly for someone like Aricia. Their gazes slid over her, judgmental as ever, some with a hint of lust. She could feel the weight of their stares, the quick flickers of their eyes as they assessed her worth-or lack thereof.

The men looked at her with a mixture of disdain and curiosity, as if her very presence in this part of the city was an offense to their sense of order. To them, she was an oddity.

She had never stepped foot in this part of the Water Clan's territory before. The people who lived here-citizens of wealth, status, and power-seemed worlds away from her humble life. Their silken robes and adorned faces gleamed in the morning light, showing no sign of the struggles. But Aricia was not here to marvel at the upper city or the way its people lived. No, she had a singular purpose.

Since the age of fifteen, Aricia has taken the warrior exams. The instructors knew her by now, some ridiculed her persistence, while others pitied her. Nine times she had faced them with the same hunger in her heart, her legs always faltering.

Some called her ambition reckless. "Too much for a girl," they whispered, sometimes loudly enough for her to hear. For Aricia, it was more than reckless-it was madness, especially with the condition of her legs.

A childhood illness had weakened them, leaving them frail, prone to collapse if she pushed too hard. Each step was a calculated risk, each fall a reminder that she wasn't like the others.

As a child, she had watched her brothers train in the yard, their bodies becoming strong and capable with each passing year. They fought with a fierce resolve that she had come to admire, even when the bruises and blood showed their failures. Back then, she had wanted to be like them-to wield a sword.

Now, though, her reasons were different. The dreams of childhood glory had shifted.

It was not admiration that drove her, but something deeper. She was going to join the Water Clan's army for a different reason.

She had seen the war firsthand, felt its breath in the wind that swept through the Spirit Clan. The world around her was changing. While others had the luxury of ignorance, Aricia knew too well what was at stake. She wasn't chasing some childish dreams. She was preparing for something bigger.

The Academy's gates loomed before her now, taller than she remembered and without waiting a second longer, she strolled in.