Eventually, she was led into a hall filled with the scent of roasted meat, frying oil, and aromatic herbs. Yuriko licked her lips as her tummy growled loudly.
Virgil and Marron waved from a table near the service area and Yuriko hurried to them after a quick wave at the militiaman.
Virgil pushed a plate heaping with sliced roast and a basket of dinner rolls. She was about to grab the food when Virgil coughed gestured towards the tray of hot towelettes and the small bowl of scented water.
With a sigh, Yuriko scrubbed her hands on the nearly scalding cloth and dipped her fingers in the bowl before she grabbed the bread and transferred the beef onto her plate. Marron had his mouth full but that didn’t stop him from smirking.
She ate quickly, with barely restrained grace. She ate enough to take the edge of her hunger and then, with a supreme act of will, she stopped. Yuriko sighed and pushed her plate away.
“You’re a growing kid,” Marron continued to stuff more meat in his mouth. He chewed carefully then swallowed. “You need to put on more weight, you’re scrawny,” he continued with a pointed look that turned into a grimace of pain when she stomped on his toes.
“As you will,” Virgil said with an indulgent smile. “Marron’s right though.”
“I don’t want to become fat,” Yuriko muttered.
“You won’t if you keep up with your training.” He piled up a few slices more of meat on Yuriko’s plate. “Eat, it will help you recover your Animus.”
Yuriko sighed but ate the remaining slices quickly. “What are we doing next?”
Virgil chewed noisily while he demolished his heaping plateful.
“The Inquisitor sent back word that they’ve found tracks,” Marron answered.
Yuriko’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“Are we hunting?” She leaned back in her seat. “Do we have enough time?”
She had to return to Faron’s Crossing before dusk otherwise she would miss the Ritual. It was an annual event held during the Ninety-First, the last day of the Season of Earth, under the silvery light of the full moon. Thirteen years old was the minimum age to attend the Ritual and she had her thirteenth birthday in the previous season.
“We’ll go on a patrol,” Virgil decided. “If we don’t find a Wyldling, it's no loss.”
“It could help shape her Heritage though,” Marron observed. “I managed to slay a Wyldling on my Ritual day. I got one from three hundred paces away.”
Yuriko’s hands clenched under the table. “I hope we find one.”
“It's up to the Threads of Fate,” Virgil said placidly.
An hour later, father and daughter were riding their shuttle back towards Faron’s Crossing. The flame inside Yuriko had recovered somewhat, less than a third of what she had this morning. It was barely enough to power one shot of the Plasma Caster.
“You have to use up all of your stored Animus before the Ritual.” Virgil reminded her. “While it wouldn’t be dangerous, any remnant can do strange things. Better be safely empty than hope for a wildcard.”
A patrol pattern was projected on a screen in front of Virgil on the shuttle. Yuriko craned her neck to look around her father’s bulk. If she read it right, they would be sweeping the nearby farms for a couple of hours before they head back.
“Don’t focus on looking for Wyldlings,” Virgil said, “you don’t know what you’ll miss.”
It wasn’t anything Virgil hadn’t said before so Yuriko answered absently, “Yes, Da.”
For the next few minutes, she looked around vigilantly, her head swinging left, right, up, and down every few seconds. Virgil chuckled quietly in front but didn’t say anything. After half an hour, Yuriko’s vigilance was rewarded--by a crick in her neck.
‘Next, Da will say something like patrolling is boring but necessary, and that I’d eventually get used to it.’
“You’ll get used to it, Yuri.” Virgil glanced back at her then turned his gaze towards the front, just as Yuriko rolled her eyes. “It’s when you’re bored during a patrol that things inevitably happen.”
“Yes, Da,” she answered in a flat voice.
The farmlands blended into each other and she couldn’t really tell where they were at the moment. Oh, there’s a field of wheat that looks much like that field of wheat over there, except this one was a bit longer on one edge than that perfect square over there.
A lack of farmsteads due to the inherent danger of living away from town meant that there was little to break the monotony of the fields. Nearly every longstride from the town to the Watchtower had been converted to grainland and it was only the dirt and cobblestone paths between the fields differentiated the plots of land.
Orchards were more common closer to Faron’s Crossing but the trees there weren’t that big compared to the ones in the Tidelands or even the unspoiled forests of the Shillogu Woods up north. The Zarek Mountain Range was to their right, which meant they were flying towards the north now. The sun was long past its zenith and was halfway down to sinking into the Tidelands’ mist.
“There.” Virgil’s quiet voice cut through Yuriko’s musings.
He was looking towards the mountains and, when Yuriko followed his gaze, she couldn’t really see anything. The shuttle slowed to a hover and turned around, presenting its port side to the mountains. Virgil’s dominant hand was his right and though Yuriko could use either hand equally well, she had copied his shooting form.
“Do you see it?” The purple glow coming from Virgil’s eyes painted his cheeks luridly.
“Where?” Yuriko gulped.
“It’s nearly a league away.”
“I can’t see that far, Da,” Yuriko muttered, exasperated.
“Oh, you’re right.”
Virgil sheepishly turned the shuttle towards the east; every now and then, he adjusted the shuttle’s heading. Nearly ten minutes and four longstrides later, Yuriko could finally see… something.
The figure was strolling down the wheat field. There was a wide trail of trampled grain that meandered to the southwest. The shuttle moved closer.
By this time, Yuriko had managed to channel her Animus in her right eye and she could finally see more than a grayish blob.
This particular Wyldling was large, maybe as wide as the shuttle. It was covered in greyish carapace and walked on its hind legs. It had two pairs of upper limbs, the lower set was slender with small hands while the upper set was thick and muscular and, instead of hands, they ended with a pair of scythe-like blades. Its head was almost comically small and shaped more like an ant’s head than a human’s.
Every now and then, the Wyldling swung its scythe limbs and cut the unripe grain. Those scythes could easily reap lives should they foolishly come close enough.
Virgil and Yuriko were approximately five hundred paces away and approaching from behind but, because of the Wyldling’s compound eyes, it had noticed them. The Wyldling froze for a moment then it roared. It was frighteningly fast, bounding dozens of paces in a few blinks of an eye.
“Do you have a shot?” Virgil asked quietly.
The Plasma Caster was already in Yuriko’s hands, barrel aimed at the Wyldling’s core. She pulled at the warmth inside her, channelling it down to her left hand and into the red jade studs on the forestock.
As soon as a trickle the Animus seeped out of her palm the rifle sucked nearly everything out of her. The barrel lit up with golden light, but it trembled in Yuriko’s hands. She gritted her teeth, ignoring everything else but the monster she needed to kill, and empowering the weapon necessary to do it. It took two full breaths before her aim was steady and, at that point, the Wyldling had halved the distance between them.
Th-thud. Th-thud. Click.
She pulled the trigger. The Plasma Caster didn’t have a noticeable recoil but she felt the barrel tremble ever so slightly.
A bolt of golden light flashed from the muzzle. It took less than a blink of the eye to reach the Wyldling, but just a few inches before it would have hit its shoulder, its Field activated. It manifested as a pane of glass and when the bolt laden with Yuriko’s Animus struck, it cracked.
The plasma splashed, most of its power diverted by the Field, but a remnant of the bolt managed to pierce it. The Wyldling ignored the shot, at least until the remnant drilled into its shoulder, leaving a pinhole that spurted thick, bright blue blood. The wheat behind the exit wound burned.
“Wyld leavings!” Yuriko cursed. Her reserve of Animus wasn’t enough to fire another shot with any certainty of piercing its Field.
“Language,” Virgil grunted. His own rifle was already trained at the creature’s head.
“Sorry...” Yuriko muttered, frustration thick in her voice.
“No matter, bad luck in encountering a Wyldling with a strong Field.”
The monster was close, only two hundred paces away but Virgil talked as if he had all the time in the world.
A purple plasma bolt left the muzzle of his Plasma Caster, streaking across the sky with a muted roar. The Wyldling, perhaps sensing the difference in the attack, jumped to its left, crossing a dozen paces in one leap. It didn’t matter.
The bolt curved and unerringly struck.
Ping!
The Field shattered.
It roared, but even before its mandibles could fully spread open, death had come.
In the next blink of the eye, the Wyldling’s head was gone.
Virgil didn’t burn the wheat field behind it either.
With his rifle holstered in a smooth motion, Virgil moved the shuttle near the body and dropped a beacon beside it.
“There.” Virgil said with some satisfaction, “Let’s go back home.”
“Un.” Yuriko grunted with a depressed sigh.
“Don’t worry so much, little flower, nothing is determined yet.”
They flew back to Faron’s Crossing but, this time, Yuriko wasn’t in the mood to enjoy the scenery. It didn’t help that her Animus was nearly empty and the familiar warmth in her chest had turned cold.
The afternoon sun’s rays on her back helped, slightly.
By the time the two of them reached their home, Yuriko felt just a tiny bit better. It helped that her youngest brother, ten-year-old Rami rushed out and tackle-hugged her as soon as she alighted from the shuttle.
“Whoa, you’re heavy!” Yuriko gasped, barely keeping the rifle from falling off her shoulders. The side-blade’s handle dug into her ribs again, though. “Oof!”
“Sorry, big sis.” Rami grinned cheekily, obviously not sorry at all.
Yuriko ruffled Rami’s honey-coloured hair while she nudged him off her way with her hip. “Did you do your chores?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Uh-huh.” Rami nodded. “I studied on the console too. Oh, hi Da!” he waved when Virgil came over after he brought the shuttle into the garage.
“Come on, Rami. Help me make dinner,” Virgil began ushering him to the kitchen. “Leave your sister alone, she needs to meditate for the Ritual.”
“Dinner so early?” Rami whined, pointing at the sun that was still a couple of hours from touching the mists.
“The Ritual is at dusk. Can’t have your sister participate with an empty stomach. She’d rip the Celebrant to shreds.”
“No, I won’t!” Yuriko protested. “I’m not hungry anyway.”
“Have something in your stomach anyway. The Ritual will last until dawn. You can’t leave the temple until then.”
“Fine.”
Virgil took Yuriko’s rifle with him, while Yuriko trudged behind.
An hour later, after a somewhat relaxing hot bath, the three of them were at the table. Despite Virgil’s instructions, Yuriko barely ate anything. Her stomach was twisted in knots and the thought of eating made her want to throw up. She did manage to consume a single dinner roll with a slice of yellow cheese. The rest of the time, Yuriko spent pushing food on her plate around, while downing glass after glass of lavan juice.
Finally, “It’s time.” Virgil said.
“I need the bathroom,” Yuriko gasped as she ran off.
A few minutes later, the two of them were walking down the road. Yuriko had changed into more comfortable clothing: a wide-necked blue sweater, black tights, and light grey loafers. Virgil remained in uniform.
The town centre, unimaginatively named Faron’s Square, with the statue of the pioneer prominently displayed on top of a pedestal at the centre. The bronze statue was larger than life and showed Faron in a nearly archaic set of armour. His beard was neat and trimmed to a point, with his chin thrust out to the west. He held a longsword pointed in the same direction. His left held palm to the sky contained a stylized accumulation of Animus represented as dancing flames.
The Temple was on the east side of the square. The pink-veined marble of its edifice loomed over the gaggle of kids with their guardians.
A young lady, of the same age as Yuriko, shorter but with more womanly curves, stood near the entrance talking with a pimply, serious-looking young man. The girl waved to Yuriko as soon as their eyes met.
“Yuri!” Krystal’s voice was pleasant to the ear and it gave Yuriko an impulse to pinch her cheeks and pull.
“Krys.” Yuriko nodded restrainedly. “Are you ready?”
“Not at all!” the other girl chirped.
“Yuriko,” the boy, Mikel, intoned solemnly. It tickled Yuriko’s funny bone to see him try to act mature since he was inches shorter than Krystal, much less herself.
The three of them grew up together as neighbours. They attended Faron’s Crossing’s preparatory school and, now that they were ready for the Atavism Ritual, it was likely that the three of them would attend an Imperial Academy in Rumiga City together as well.
There were a few other participants waiting at the entrance. All told, there may have been a dozen of them. Faron’s Crossing wasn’t big enough to have more than a few children come of age every year, with the majority since the town’s founding already Awakened and the next generation were but babes in their swaddling clothes.
It didn’t take long before the Celebrant stood at the Temple’s main doors. He was an elderly man with greying hair, though with a smooth-shaven chin.
“It is time.” His voice boomed across the square.
Yuriko’s heart pounded anxiously. Were her preparations enough?
“What will come, will come,” Mikel intoned.
“Oh, give it a rest.” Krystal huffed, her arms crossing and pushing up the swell of her bosom. The tight-fitting blouse she had only emphasized her curves and drew Mikel’s eyes like flies to honey.
“Right,” Yuriko muttered. Her own body, aside from her height, was a little less developed than Krystal’s.
The three of them, along with the rest of the participants entered into the Temple at the Celebrant’s beckoning. The doors shut with a loud thud and then it was far too late to change the Threads of Fate.
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