Ryckel had known of the tales he'd always heard other waste collectors tell whenever they were bored.
The Attuned were special people who could bend the elements on a whim and also had some pretty unique and special powers.
Ryckel had always fantasized of himself being an Attuned, being special and getting picked up and then earning so much Barcas that his mother wouldn't have to work anymore and Lyra could have anything she wanted.
But alas, the fact that he was still here, meant that he was not.
Surprisingly, all this talk about the war made him think back to simplier times. Where his father was still alive and children didn't treat him like literal shit.
They had always played a game called Breach-the-Dividing-Sea. The goal was to hold the line, which symbolized the Dividing Sea, no matter what. Just like their land had done for four hundred years against the damn invading Vascals.
One problem they always had was finding enough people for the teams. They weren't always enough men.
They weren't always enough men…
Damn… so they need more people? But then how is someone like me going to help?
Ryckel scoffed at himself.
"Okay, let's just get this over with…" A Hussar said, knocking Ryckel back into reality.
Shit!
Soon, more Hussars rolled into the group of people, yanking them without warning. Some are dragged off to separate corner and stabbed to death.
Others were slit at the throat, figdeting as blood gushed out. And some unlucky few were burnt to death quite literally at the flaming hands of some of the Hussars.
Now came Ryckel and his family's turn.
"Mother!" Lyra's voice was so thin, so fragile. "Mother!"
Ryckel's brain went into a panic.
Think. Think! Why is my head dying on me now? If this were a game. I'd be a freaking genius!
He saw the knife come out. It was a dull functional thing.
I wish dad was here... he'd know how to fix this.
Then, pain exploded.
Someone yanked his hair so hard it nearly blinded him. Ryckel was dragged backward, his head snapped up, his throat bared to the cold steel.
His mother and Lyra were torn away, their screams lost in the roar of the street. Blood, smashed produce, and broken wood were everywhere.
No, not like this! I can't die here! I just wanted to be an artist. I wanted us to be happy!
Is that too much to ask?
Then something just... clicked.
"Wait! Wait!" Ryckel shouted. "What if there's another way to pay? Something of equal value. More!"
I can't believe I'm doing this…
The Hussar paused and actually laughed. The blade bit into Ryckel's neck just enough to draw a bead of blood, but the grip on his hair loosened.
"Speak," the Hussar said, his voice low and curious. "What could a brat like you possibly offer?"
Ryckel swallowed. His mouth felt like it was full of dust.
What did I just do?
The silence pressed down on him, heavier than the sword at his throat. He forced himself to look the guy in the eye.
Just like Breach-the-Dividing-Sea…
"Yes," Ryckel said, his voice finally cooling down. "I have an offer." He looked toward his mother while the screams of the dying rose up like a choir of the damned. "You're short on men. The Northerners are breaching the sea. Your resources are being drained. You need every blade you can get."
The Hussar tilted his head. A dangerous rumble started in his chest. "And what are you suggesting?"
Ryckel breathed in a lungful of ash. "I offer myself. I'll join you."
The other Hussars exploded into laughter.
But Ryckel didn't flinch.
"Enough," the Hussar snapped. The others went dead silent. "You're a child," he said flatly. "Not an Attuned, no skills that'll be helpful. You'd just be a waste of space."
"Doesn't matter. I've heard you guys have enlisted kids," Ryckel shot back. "I won't be the first, and I won't be the last."
"Ry..." his mother whispered, looking dazed. "What are you doing?"
He gave her a soft, apologetic smile.
"Sir Syrion---" a younger Hussar started.
"Silence," Syrion said. He never looked away from Ryckel. "Give me one reason I shouldn't end you right now. What can you actually do?"
Ryckel's eyes drifted to a crude drawing on a wall nearby, two stick figures with wooden swords.
Father...
Then he thought of the mists. The Red Dark. He remembered how it wrapped around a dying body like a lover.
"I've been sneaking out during the Bleeding Hour since I could walk," Ryckel said. "The fact that I'm still standing here is proof."
More mocking laughter.
"You said you stopped!" His mother cried out, her face twisting with horror.
I'm sorry, Mom. It was the only peace I had after Dad died.
Syrion raised a hand, and the air suddenly felt heavy. "Shut them up," he said coldly. "The hag and the girl are irritating me."
"What did you just---" Ryckel struggled, but the grip on him tightened.
His family were beaten. His mother looked back in pure terror, but Lyra... she just stared at him with these wide, wondering eyes.
Then the Hussars stopped. Ryckel's mother crying while she protected Lyra with her body.
A hot swirling feeling forced its way around Ryckel's body. Though, he called himself. Being angry and lashing out wouldn't benefit anyone now.
Why was he doing this? He's just going to give more worry to his family moments before they die.
That's if his efforts are pointless and they do die…
But if they don't… They'd finally be free. His mother would be able to handle herself and Lyra more efficiently even though Ryckel would be gone and so would the extra source of income.
But that also meant reduced cost of living in Ryckel's aspect.
Syrion turned back, and all the amusement was gone from his face. His eyes looked like empty stars.
"Now," he said softly. "Tell me about the Bleeding Hour. Tell me about the Red Dark. How do you dance through the mists while grown men are busy soiling themselves?"
Not to also mention that, his family would be alive… living a more stable life as Ryckel would bare the burden of everything.
He gave out a gentle smile.
"It's true," Ryckel said.
"And do you have any proof?" Syrion chuckled.
Ryckel lowered his head. He had nothing.
"There's only one kind of proof, kid," Syrion said, almost conversationally. "A corpse. You either die to a Zhenren... or you stay in the mist long enough to become one."
Ryckel thought all was lost… Syrion had backed him into a corner. He's failed his family… failed as a man of the house…
Right then, in the middle of all that smoke and death, these white flames birthed across Ryckel's vision.
It was fire, sure, but there wasn't any heat to it. Instead, there was a list of words, floating in the air like a fresh sketch propped up on a stool.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Name: Ryckel
Race: Human
Synapse Grade: [Ignited]
Glyphs: [10/500]
Compilers' Hearth: [Not eligible]
Greater Will: ---
Marks: [Exalted] [Mist walker]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He stared at them as the words hovered in the air.
Synapse Grade. Ignited. Exalt. He didn't have a clue what half of that meant.
But he had a feeling that all these had to do with Attuned.
He had a million questions, a mountain of them, but he didn't have the time to start climbing.
Ryckel gave his head a quick shake, and the white fire vanished. He had his family to worry about, but then his eyes went wide as the reality finally sank in.
I'm an Attuned...
The weight of the situation shifted. He wasn't just a kid begging to be taken anymore, not exactly.
He finally had real leverage.
---The End of Chapter 2---