The Hybrid: Chasing Destiny

Ava was not sure what she expected when they found Minervin’s cabin. It was smaller than the one they had shared in Spectermere, but ramshackle it was not. Sure, some upkeep was needed, and the cabin was largely overgrown with vines, but it looked as if it had faired the times well. It was strange for a long-abandoned cabin, and she doubted that it was Hestrin’s doing, judging by the state he kept his inn in.

She struggled to get the key in the lock, the excitement making her fingers fumble. Prince Caeden loomed behind her, his hand held her shoulder firmly and the other gripped her sword at his hip. He was poised and ready, waiting to face whatever magical trickery he thought lay beyond. She tried to keep his trepidation from making her nervous and unsure. The mark on her arm glowed brightly when she turned it.

She opened the door and was greeted by an utter mess. Everything in the cabin’s interior was tossed and picked over. What furniture she could see was either scattered and broken or aged beyond use.

“Gods dammit Hestrin!” Guard Captain Naetin hissed over her shoulder.

Ava stepped over the threshold and instantly felt the warm weight of the prince’s hand disappear from her shoulder. Ava looked back to see what had happened. There was a glowing archway before her. Through it, she could see Prince Caeden staring at her. His brow creased in confusion, blind to her presence before him. He reached out his arm and it disappeared beyond her sight. He and the guards drew their swords and entered the cabin, all disappearing from view and reappearing at the doorway again a short time later. He became engrossed in a discussion with Guard Captain Naetin, who indicated to his forearm and shrugged nervously.

Disoriented, Ava took in her surroundings. The mark had teleported her elsewhere. The room she was in currently opened to a quaint veranda overlooking a vibrant and colourful forest and had no visible exits besides the portal she entered through.

It was comfortable with a cool breeze flowing through occasionally. Its furnishings were luxurious and consisted of a huge bed in the centre, a dining table, and an unlit fire pit. Every table and every shelf were filled with books, scrolls and arcane curios. There were no weapons, she noted with disappointment.

The Frost Spirit floated from the satchel and transformed into the woman. She had changed. Underneath the frost and wind, there was something more. Something that Ava could not see before. Filaments spread across her form all coalescing into a single core at the center of her chest. It flickered and shone like a bright star. A star she could reach out and touch.

The Spirit floated along the room’s edges, inspecting it, though Ava doubted it was what she was truly looking at.

“The wizard wielded powers far beyond any mortal’s capabilities,” she said.

“What is this place?” Ava queried.

“A spirit domain, an element of creation magic that should be known only to the spirits. It is an affront and we should tear it down,” she raged. “But it will suit our needs.”

“What needs?”

The Frost Spirit simply ignored her and floated away, the winds rustling the furniture as she passed.

“I am talking to you. You are not helping me by keeping me in the dark. Let alone using me as a voice piece to threaten princes!” Ava yelled.

A blast of wind blew her back, and although the ice still bit her skin, the wind itself was not as powerful as it was before. Was the Frost Spirit getting weaker or was it holding back for once?

“And I help no one by telling you everything. You will be whatever we need you to be! Archaicron teeters on the brink of destruction and I will not risk its fate to spare your or that prince's feelings! Ah, it is here!”

Ava reeled at the sudden shift in the spirit’s mood. It floated over to the desk of curios and hovered before a large tome placed on display. It was covered in dark wrinkled leather and its edges and spine were rimmed with gold. The aura it radiated was strange, neither malignant nor benign, but was threatening enough to make her wary of it.

“Open it,” the spirit ushered. Her tone seemed uncharacteristically light and friendly, and it unnerved her.

“Are you sure? The tome feels hostile,” she said staring at it, expecting it to grow fangs. Ava wished she understood the nuances of magic, but like everyone else, she only had her gut instinct, and it told her not to trifle with it.

“Open it,” the spirit repeated in the same tone.

After a moment of hesitation, Ava turned the tome’s leather-bound cover over. She caught sight of the scribbles on the first page and quickly averted her eyes, turning her back to it. It was just a glance, but it was long enough for the ache to pound between her brows and her stomach to turn. She recognised Minervin’s hand in the writing.

Minervin wrote in the ancient script! Minervin understood the ancient script! How was that possible? Ava's mind raced as the spirit paged through the tome using a light wind behind her. By all accounts, he should have gone mad or died from the attempt.

“I am satisfied, you may close it,” the spirit declared, oblivious to the turmoil of its Keeper’s mind.

Ava reached behind her to shut the book before turning and facing the spirit.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A thread. One we thought he had abandoned in his quest for the Artifact.” The spirit shrunk before her, turning its form into that of a girl.

The Artifact? Ava started, and the terror-filled memory came into focus. The same artifact Azael was looking for? Was Minervin connected to all of this? Did he tell her something about it that she can no longer recall?

Ava looked at the tome, uncertain if she would find answers within. What was the point of leaving behind something she could not read or use?

“It is a thread, but not yours,” the spirit answered.

“Then what must I do with it?” she asked in frustration.

“What you are destined to do,” it replied cheerily.

Seemingly bored with the conversation, it frolicked over to sit at the edge of a small, wooden pier overlooking a brook. It swung its legs over the edge, the balls of its feet touching the water with every movement. Thin sheets of ice developed at the contact and floated downstream. The tome had put the accursed spirit in a good mood, but she was not planning on divulging any more information on the matter.

Ava moved to lie on the edge of the bed, needing to find her bearings. This place felt like one of Minervin’s conjurations, beautiful but sad and lonely. If he were still alive, would he tell her anything if she asked? He was never forthcoming about his past before.

She thought she knew her guardian better than anyone, but out of his long life, she only knew about the years he had spent in Spectermere. Was Minervin not the man she thought he was?

She shoved those morose thoughts away and focused on the bright side. At least, Beast and I will have a place to come back to once this business with the spirits is all over. He could run around in the woods. Ava looked at the sky and wondered how time worked here. Did it become night after a while? Would I see Casimir, the leader who united the warring human kingdoms into one mighty Empire in the stars here? Or Tekkhan, the first and only orc king? Or Frikka? Or Solstein? When I die, will I be included among them?

Beast would hate it here. At the errand thought, the tears Ava had kept from spilling for an age burst forth like a flood. She pressed her fingers to her eyes to stem the flow but found she could no longer stifle them. There was nothing for them here. When this all ends, the prince will return to his empire and she and Beast will have this spirit domain.

It would not be fair on him. She would have to let him go to find his place in the world. She had no meaningful place or future to offer him. My place, my home and my future died along with Minervin and Malgorn in Spectermere and it was all that accursed shade’s fault!

Ava sat up and touched the scar on her shoulder. That is right! I have a score to settle!

Resolved and dry-eyed, Ava heaved herself off Minervin’s bed and searched through the remainder of his things. She started collecting the things she thought would fetch a good price and shoved them into her satchel when her eyes fell onto one of Minervin’s curios.

It floated mid-air in a red jewellery case, the light emanating from the box causing the curio to dazzle beautifully. Ava looked at the floating jewel and recognized it as diamond-crust obsidian, covered in runic symbols. The piece was enchanted in some way. A tiny flicker at its frosty center made her examine it more closely.

She recognized the familiar light and the filaments that danced around it. Similar in shape and feel to the Frost Spirit’s core, only much smaller and much weaker. A mortal soul.

Ava closed the floating jewel into its box. The words ‘My Heart’ were lovingly engraved in elvish on the cover. Minervin had an elven lover? Her brow creased in perplexity as she shoved the box into the satchel, unable to formulate a good argument against taking the jewel with her. At the very least, she could ask Oswin if there was a way to free the soul from its cage. It did not seem right to keep it trapped inside.

The tome was another conundrum. There was no scenario she could think of where it would end well for her should it be found in her possession. A hybrid in possession of a hostile tome filled with ancient script written by an Untouchable? No, it will need to remain a secret to keep this refuge safe. She could always return for it later.

She called the Frost Spirit forth and placed its crystal form back in the satchel. With a deep breath, she walked through the portal to the world outside.

Caeden sat on the floor above the cabin steps, reflecting light from his gauntlet onto the ground for Beast to chase after. He stopped as she suddenly appeared and seemed to want to say something biting but decided against it when he saw her face.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” was what he settled on.

“You asked me once why I was doing this?” Ava asked, watching Beast twist and writhe on his back and grunt pleasurably. He was happy here. Free.

“Yes, I recall the conversation. You have yet to give me a satisfying answer.” His tone was haughty, but his brow furrowed slightly. He was worried about where this conversation was heading.

“Vengeance, that is my endgame. Azael, the Shadow King stole my life from me, now I will take his from him. Does that answer satisfy you, Prince Caeden?”

The prince smirked, the cold calculation returning to his green eyes. “Yes, that is indeed something I can use.”