The Hybrid: Chasing Destiny

Ava bent over the market stall to examine the rows of dolls. She had always enjoyed playing with her bow and dagger outside with Minervin’s conjurations to make her adventures exciting. Dolls were never an option and had never been a thought in her mind. But seeing them all lined up with their elegant lace dresses and shiny curls, she had to admit they were all terribly pretty.

She reached for the prettiest one and her hand bumped against a tiny one. The child standing beside her started at the sight of Ava. But, as the general shock wore off, she stared, tilting her head from side to side as she examined her curiously.

Ava gave her a toothy smile, half expecting the child to run off in fear. Surprisingly, the girl returned it with a toothless one of her own.

“You’re really pretty,” the girl exclaimed.

“And you are adorable,” she responded, taken aback.

The girl beamed as her cheeks flushed red.

“Do you want one?” Ava asked, pointing to the doll they were reaching for.

The girl's eyes sparkled, and she nodded vigorously. She fidgeted with her fingers excitedly and bounced up and down.

Ava fumbled with her satchel, reaching into it for the coin pouches. A shadow fell over her vision. She blinked and looked up to see a woman grab the girl's arm, glaring back at her as she dragged her child away from the marketplace.

“Mama, wait!” the girl whined as they disappeared into the crowd.

“My apologies. I suppose it is for the best. The mother would have taken it away as soon as she learned where she got it from. People are so silly,” Gretchen grumbled angrily.

“I suppose so. I would not worry about it as long as they are not attacking,” Ava responded, absent-mindedly.

“Were you attacked a lot in Spectermere?” she gasped.

“Not attacked. I have been robbed a few times, but most of the time people wanted nothing to do with me.”

“It must be a nice change in pace then. You have caught the eye of a Prince, and now everyone who matters treats you like royalty,” Gretchen muttered with admiration. “So, to the armorer’s as planned?”

Ava nodded. A change of pace indeed. She could not move without a bevy of guards, seen and unseen, following her around. She could not understand how any royal could stand it. At least she had only Ser Derric this time. She much preferred his presence to those other ones.

The armourer sat in the corner of his store, polishing a steel pauldron on his lap. He raised his eyes quickly to take them in and they dropped back to his work.

“I ain’t serving you,” he stated dismissively.

Ava’s back straightened with annoyance, and she felt her frustration boiling over once again.

“What do you mean, you won’t offer me service? I have gold.”

“I don’t want your gold, demonkin. Now get out of my shop before I call the guard.”

The armourer seemed ready to yell when she felt Ser Derric enter behind her.

“Ser Derric, it’s been a while. Your visit honours me. This customer was just leaving, how may I assist such an esteemed royal knight?” he said, putting the pauldron to the side to stand and tilt his head in respectful welcome.

“It is alright, Master Pietr. The girl is an Imperial guest,” Ser Derric replied. “I only ask that you assist her.”

“Ogch! I didn’t realise. Of course, she’s looking for archery gear judging by how she holds herself. Boiled leather for maximum protection without sacrificing agility. Don’t usually make armour for her frame, but I can give even the finest elf smiths a run for their money,” the armourer gushed.

“No, thank you,” Ava said, turning on her heel with a sniff. “I’ve changed my mind and will take the honour of my business elsewhere.”

She marched back into the street, attempting to control her increasing irritation. It is far too hot.

“Master Pietr is considered one of the best armourers in the Empire, that smite will linger with him for a while. Are you alright? Your tether seems shorter than usual,” Ser Derric asked as he exited behind her.

“I’m fine, I apologise. I thought a trip to the market would put me in a better mood,” she responded, regretting her rash actions. She needed that armour. She needed peace, away from guards and the fiery spirit squatting in her head.

Something was wrong with it. It tried to hide it, but she could feel its restless panic.

“Should we go back and come another day?” Ava asked.

“Oh wait, there is a dress shop I have been dying to show you,” Gretchen burst out excitedly, pulling her arms. “Come on, do not make that face. You will love them.”

Ava begrudgingly allowed Gretchen to drag her through the meandering streets. The handmaid’s excitement was contagious as she rambled endlessly about skirts and ribbons.

“Wait,” she heard Ser Derric command from a distance.

She turned and searched for the knight. He was nowhere in sight. There was no one in sight. The street was not just empty, it was abandoned. Strange, compared to the busy market streets they had come from.

Her gut squeezed in trepidation, and she stopped, pulling her arm from Gretchen’s easy grip. The girl rambled on, oblivious to her growing dread and carried on down the street.

“Gretchen! Come back!” she whispered desperately.

“Come on, it is just this way,” the handmaid responded, skipping as she turned a corner.

Ava stepped back, torn between wanting to drag Gretchen back and finding Ser Derric. Her gut told her not to go any further.

“Gretchen, come back to me. I will go no further,” she whispered again.

She turned back to find Ser Derric, cursing herself for not bringing her bow. Ava had left it behind to avoid becoming a threatening and suspicious spectacle. She buried her hands within the flaps of her cape and fingered her dagger. It will have to do.

She walked through the streets, hoping she could retrace her steps back to the knight and turned back to call for the handmaid again.

Ava started, stifling a scream when Gretchen appeared before her. The girl reached for Ava’s hands again.

“Come on, silly. We are almost there,” she echoed with a smile.

She pulled her hands through Gretchen’s ethereal ones, stepping back from her specter. Dread gripped her chest in a crushing vice.

The girl looked at her transparent palms and her brow creased.

“What just happened?” Gretchen asked, confused. “How? I – I think there is somewhere I need to be.”

Ava turned and ran, looking back to watch the girl reform into a mortal spirit ball and float toward the Sapphire Sea. There was a weight on one of her filaments. Guilt.

She fled through the streets, each looking more and more familiar. Almost there! She turned the street corner and spotted Ser Derric, sitting against a wall. He gurgled as he tried to stem the flow of bright red blood gushing from his throat.

Panicked, Ava rushed to his side, pushing his head down.

“Keep your chin against your chest,” she said desperately. She needed something to stem the flow of blood.

Ser Derric lifted a hand to her face, blocking her view of his injury. He mouthed something, but only moans and gurgles came forth.

“Shh, don’t talk,” she ordered desperately. She moved his hand out of the way before she saw a handkerchief nestled within his grip. “Yes, this will work!”

She took it from him and worked it between his chin and chest.

She tried to tie it at the back of his neck. But before she put the knot into place, a hand tangled in her hair, pulled her head back and smashed it against the wall.

Her vision blurred and she pressed her hand against her head. Warm blood trickled down her face. Confused, she moved back to Ser Derric to finish tying the knot.

A hand gripped her shoulder painfully, pushing her down. She gave willingly. Ser Derric pulled the man's arm as she dragged him with her to the ground. Her attacker fell onto his side, and she twisted around, unsheathing her dagger. The bandit’s eyes were surprised when she jammed it into his neck with all her strength. Blood spurted from the wound as she ripped it out.

Once she straightened, another man ran into her out of the corner of her eye. The impact of his charge threw her off her feet and her dagger careened from her grip. Her head pounded from the collisions. Ava crawled toward the struggling knight. If I could get the knot in place quickly, I could deal with these attackers afterwards. The man flopped on top of her. Ser Derric reached out to her, lifting his chin from his chest. He seemed unconcerned about his own well-being and was solely focused on helping her. Why? Why? Why!

“Get off me!” she screamed, clawing forward along the ground.

The knight’s hand dropped to the ground, his eyes glazed over, and his body fell to the side.

Ava’s heart skipped painfully, and tears stung her eyes.

“Aw, looks like you couldn’t save the pitiful knight in time,” the man taunted above her. He pulled at her pants, laughing.

Coldness coated her breaking heart, and her breath misted as she groaned from the loss. Spinning her hips, she turned and gripped the man’s face, her nails digging into his skin. The muscles in her arm strained and stretched as frost spread from her hand.

A half scream died on the man’s lips as he stiffened into a frozen statue above. Her arm fell limply onto her chest, pale and blistered. She pulled herself out from under the man.

She had barely wobbled to a stand when another man was on her. She ripped herself from his grasping hands and called the magic again from her other hand. Ice spikes consumed the man before spreading along the path to destroy the house behind him. Her hand trembled and tingled as it fell numbly to her side. Light snow and wind surrounded her, but the Frost Spirit was nowhere in sight.

A hand spun her around violently and she felt a dagger blade rip into her belly. The hulking man pushed her down and she fell to the ground, her arms too numb to break her fall. She grunted against the wound in her abdomen.

“Curses, she said the girl would be fierce, but the Spirit would be inactive! I knew that brainless harpy was crazy,” she heard another man comment behind the man with the bloody dagger.

“Watch your mouth!” her attacker bit out. “It does not change our mission here.”

“If you want to test a spirit’s patience, go ahead. But no favour and prestige will make me carry that bag back…”

She could see something. Barely visible, it wavered in and out of her vision. A tattered, smouldering tapestry with a single frayed thread floating just beyond her grasp. Was this the end of her miserable destiny?

“Treacherous, hateful and mercenary. Their honour sold and bought for a trifle while their world crumbles around them. One good decision millennia ago cannot change who these humans truly are. They seek chances but refuse to be better,” the Fire Spirit rumbled. “Allow me to help. We must burn it down and start anew.”

The image of the girl she met earlier flashed in her mind, then Naetin’s, Oswin’s and – Prince Caeden’s.

“No, there are some still worth saving.”

“Who is she talking to?”

“How must I know? Just kill her and let us be done with this devilry. Leave the bag if...” the man gurgled mid-sentence and dropped to the ground, clutching his throat.

His cohort turned in alarm to search the area. He switched the dagger to his left hand and reached for the sword on his hip. A small dagger flew into his throat before he fully unsheathed it. A blur moved above her, invisibility fading to reveal the crimson armour of Castle Caedence’s royal guard. Long, gold-dusted ears pointed out of the masked helm. His vivid amber eyes seemed to peer into her soul.

The elf picked up the fallen man’s dagger, sniffed it and chucked it away. He knelt beside her and pulled a syringe from his belt, stabbing her with it. Ava flinched from the sharp pain.

“You have been poisoned with an unfamiliar toxin. This will slow it down until we can get it treated.”