With a little more cheer in his demeanor, he continues explaining. “It was called Hawkwing, and a Master of it could use the cunnin’ nature of a Fex, the raw strength of a Bear, and the speed and precision of a Snake to devastatin’ effect. It was the most dangerous and feared of all the old Impie swerd styles, and only a real master of it could utilize the principles to their fullest capabilities.”

As she listened, a question probed her mind. “And you mentioned there were no Masters left?” She pries further and asks, “Why?” he nods, and his face adopts a somber look as her words hit a nerve inside of him which she probably didn’t mean to hit in the first place.

Taking another deep breath, he confesses, “Cause, me little fex, I helped yer Aunt kill off the last of them. Back around the time ye were bern.”

At first, she is stunned by his words, processing what he had just said before cautiously asking him, “Wasn’t he your friend, though?”

A single tear rolls down his cheek, as he recalls how he and a gang of recruits had surrounded him and cut him down, remembering the only way he could beat him, was to utilize unfair tactics. “He was no friend of mine, just a damn bloody traiter,” Turning his head to look at her, “And don’t ye dare feel bad fer him; he was the very monster responsible fer yer parent’s murder.”

Ilina’s eyes widen, as the realization of the gravity of the topic and revelation takes hold on her. Looking away from him and toward the ground before her, she becomes consumed by her thoughts. Her Aunt would rarely speak about her parent’s murder and only ever told her about their fate once, saying that bringing up the topic caused an emotional strain on her.

As the story goes, according to her Aunt, there was once a Royal House to the north of their lands. The nobleman who had led that House betrayed the Empire and the other Royal Houses, something about funding the Hohenite rebellions in the west. When Ilina’s father and Aunt went with the Imperial Army to bring the traitorous House to justice, the nobleman’s wicked son, a miserable man according to her Aunt, killed Ilina’s father before escaping himself. He returned a few years later and killed Ilina’s mother when she was in her Aunt’s care; in the aftermath, the nobleman’s son took his own life.

Her Aunt never mentions anything beyond that much, and in the past twenty-six years, whenever Ilina pressed upon the issue, wanting to learn more, her Aunt would become rather livid, sending her away. She has never even seen a painting of her parents because the nobleman’s son had defaced or destroyed every portrait of them on his way in.

As Spook appears from the bench and ascends toward Ilina’s face, he mockingly says, “Well, this feels kind of awkward now.” Glaring at him, she does her best to ignore him while attempting to process all the information Arnold has opened her up to.

“The man left scars on all of us. That whole cursed family did. They’re the ones that should be blamed fer the Ash. After all, their castle is where it first appeared and has been allowed to fester.” Arnold states, lifting his shirt to reveal a single horizontal scar across his lower abdomen. “Bastard gave me this the last time I saw him, and if ye ask me, we’re better off without the lot of ’em.” Standing up, he spits on the ground to further prove his distaste for the people he is speaking about. As he gathers the training supplies, he looks toward her with tears. “I think that’s enough fer today, me little fex. Ye best go and prepare yerself fer breakfast. We’ll pick this back up some other time. Maybe after the channelin’s are through.”

As he walks away from the tense atmosphere he created, tears fall from her eyes past her knees, lightly staining the stone she is sitting upon. With her mind reeling, it does its best to process the information that has caused a surge of emotions to overtake her. Taking in a few breaths, she composes herself, wiping away the tears.

A maelstrom of unexplained anger, sorrow, and fierce determination swirls within her. Turning to her ethereal companion, who is floating beside her head. “Did you have any knowledge of this?” She accuses.

“Alright, first off, mind your tone.” He retorts snidely, pausing briefly before responding properly, “And secondly, for the first time since I’ve been acquainted  with that man, that is the first time I’ve ever caught him in a lie.” He turns away from her and follows after the man before returning his full attention to Ilina.

Perplexed, Ilina looks at him and asks, “What do you mean by that? What lie did Master Arnold tell?”

“That can wait until later. Let me think on it while you go and prepare for breakfast.” Spook evades the questions, not entirely sure what was a lie and what was the truth, but he knows both were present in Arnold’s recounting of events. Dismissively, he floats away from her.

Ilina presses him for an answer, impatient and unwilling to let him completely evade his inquiries. “What? You can’t just make an accusation like that and provide no evidence to back your claim.” Ignoring her, he continues to float away toward where Arnold is heading. All the while, wondering if this had anything to do with the man in the basement the Queen had visited a few days ago. “Hey! Don’t you dare float away from me when I’m speaking with you!” 

Halting, Spook floats a little toward her, “It isn’t very becoming of a Princess to be shouting when other nobles are trying to rest.” Turning away from her once more, he continues to follow Arnold. “Also, I can barely recall my own pathetic life, let alone keep tabs on the others around me. It’s no surprise that I know nothing on the subject of your parents.” He resumes his course toward the castle without waiting for any further response.

Realizing she is beginning to look a little insane, she decides to stop screaming and instead glare at the ball of light as he drifts away.

Frustrated, she takes a few more deep breaths before swiftly retrieving her training gear and traveling back toward her chambers. As she passes one of the many windows lining the courtyard, she notices Oleras entering a room inside, near his tower. From her earlier exploration of the castle grounds, she recognizes it is the room where they were temporarily housing their guests while he worked on the solution for the kinks in his spell.

Coming to a sudden stop, she fixes her gaze through the windowpanes and into the room before the door entirely shuts behind the old man. “Hey, Spook?” She quietly calls out, hoping the spirit is still around to answer a question.

Appearing from the wall beside her, he begrudgingly responds, “What is it now, Lina?”

“Have you ever known Olears to have trouble with a spell?” she inquires, giving thoughts to yesterday’s conversation. Her tone is filled with confused curiosity.

“The old man?” He ponders, reflecting, “To my knowledge, not that I can think of. He’s a goddamn prodigy when it comes to that sort of thing.”

She nods, her suspicions deepening. “That’s what I thought. Besides, Anaka mentioned he performed this exact spell flawlessly the last time around. You know, when they summoned the realm-jumpers from the other world at my grandmother’s behest.” Memories of the old man’s words from their last conversation resurface in her mind, specifically when he mentioned not gathering the realm-jumpers from the same location and encountering a language issue.

“Your grandmother? I don’t think I’ve ever met her.” Spook says, drifting in circles.

“Yes, you have.” She replies, “If you recall, she was that incredibly terrifying ghost with the scar running down her face and through her eye that we saw when I was a child. She always had a look of disdain for me, and she made me feel uneasy.” The recollection sends shivers down her spine.

Her thoughts are abruptly interrupted when a nearby rooster begins crowing, jolting her and Spook back to the present. Realizing the sun is starting to crest over the nearby peaks, she quickly returns to the castle to prepare for the breakfast banquet. She swiftly makes her way back inside with a sense of urgency, eager to tend to her responsibilities in the coming ceremony.

Speeding through the corridors, her mind is bogged and preoccupied with thoughts of the old man, his mysterious actions, and whether his mistakes had been accidental or deliberate. Questions still linger in her mind, refusing to fade and leaving her in constant contemplation. ‘Why were her mentors all acting strange?’

Once inside her room, she heads straight for the washroom with purposeful strides. Undressing, she calls out to Spook, unaware of where he has ended up, ensuring he isn’t peeping in on her during her intimate moments. To her knowledge, he hadn’t ever tried to, but she knows someone can never be too careful. Satisfied with the absence of any spectral presence, she proceeds to cleanse herself, washing away the remnants of dust and grime from her early morning training.

Emerging from the washroom, she dons fresh attire, feeling physically and mentally rejuvenated. As she steps into the corridor, she hears two distinct sets of footsteps approaching. Peering down the corridor, she catches a glimpse of Anaka leading the woman with strange features, the same woman she had seen yesterday, down toward one of the rooms Oleras had prepared last week.

‘This must be one of the realm-jumpers.’ she thinks as she stares at the dark-haired woman. For a brief moment, they look into each other’s eyes, and Ilina’s heart skips a beat. She feels nothing but the utmost respect and admiration for her and a strange sense of familiarity. The same intrigue she felt yesterday when peering into Oleras’ vision stones is present. After Anaka and the woman pass, a tear runs down Ilina’s cheek as a profound longing begins inhabiting her heart.