Migyn

Long may I run through the wood, my ass! Migyn thought as she pulled her hood over her hair and hugged her pack to her chest. Running through Avheia is hard enough! Death was supposed to be simple!

Her memories delighted in using dreams of the doomed future to remind her of who she was, but she’d rather they didn't. What good was it to be Astus Incarnate when she could neither tell anyone, nor use her powers freely?

The sun hadn’t quite sunk beyond the hills yet. The combination of the rising mist and dim, silvery light of dusk offered the perfect shroud for sneaking about. From shadow to shadow she moved, careful not to get caught by the hunters on patrol or those who were finishing their festival preparations.

If even one person noticed her, word would have gotten out and her plans would have ended early.

Nine years ago Migyn had started having dreams about the difficult life of a young woman who referred to herself as “Astus, God of the Wood.”

Migyn’s parents were beside themselves each time she ran into their room in tears, telling them horrible stories about things a young girl like her didn’t even have the words to explain. They hugged her and told her it was just her imagination—but somehow, no matter how much they consoled her, Migyn knew better.

Full awareness hit her around thirteen. A shared memory of Avheia from Astus’s eyes and her return after escaping the Stag Mothers were enough to make her wonder, but seeing her parents' faces and the faces of her friends and siblings told her the rest.

Of course, the idea of being reborn and returned to the past was still absurd, but a pressing sense of urgency had Migyn spending every evening she could with her nose in books about various related phenomena.

She studied dreams and prophecy and found old religious texts from the Cult of Astus and religions that bloomed in this part of the world before the Vaendaelian Church took prominence—but one word always stood out in Astus’s mind:

Incarnate.

Migyn could feel Astus’s confusion about Incarnates swirling within her. Told she was god, but lacking a god’s power, Astus was constantly in doubt of herself, constantly confused as to who and what she was.

Outside of that existence and influenced by the maturity rebirth lent her, Migyn saw how the Stag Mothers used Astus’s lack of knowledge against her. Even when it came to Vaendael, framed as a power-hungry god out to get her and all she cared about when they were the ones pressing the charge against Easalan.

But Incarnates were not, in fact, gods. They were nothing but people born with an Aspect of Magic that made the people around them believe them to be gods—or at least the gods reborn.

Vaendael of the flames, Astus of the forest. There were a dozen others, but the most important thing was they all had one thing in common: Every hundred or so years, an “Incarnate” of those gods was born—one who wielded certain powers at will.

But that was all there was to them.

The Astus in her dreams found that out too late to fix her life. Though she had gained some clarity in her later years, free from the designs and manipulations of the Stag Mothers, she could not escape the path she was set upon.

There were some records of Incarnates having the ability to foresee the future, but it was a rare occurrence and Astus certainly didn’t know anything.

She had died reclaiming the name of “Migyn,” accepting her fate, and hoping for a better future. It was a blessed end to her life of torment.

So why is it that I'm reduced to sneaking around and chasing ghosts of her past?! Migyn cried internally, slipping between the shadows of the houses.

She kept to the walls as much as possible as she crept toward the eastern defense tower of the fort that contained Avheia's inner town.

It would be nice if she could just grow a vine ladder to climb over the walls whenever she wanted. Through her memories as Astus, Migyn mastered enough Incarnate magic that she had something to fall back on in emergencies, but Migyn had yet to fully solve the problem of how the Stag Mothers had found her in the first place.

By her account, she had about a year left until they came for her. If they found her because of her magic, magic—particularly forest-related magic—was going to be off limits until either she had a proper contingency plan firmly in place or she had no other options.

Until now, the changes she’d been able to make were limited to her immediate surroundings. Stuck in the castle and with an appearance that stood out from everyone around her, there wasn’t much she could do.

Migyn planned and took notes, wrote journals, dreamed of freedom, and debated what sacrifices she’d make for the life she wanted—a life where she wouldn’t need to worry about Avheia, Astus, Vaendael, or the threat of war.

But what could a girl do about war?

Fortunately, while her memories were too hazy to give her exact details of history, she wasn’t entirely powerless—and there was one person who might just take her seriously if she approached them in the name of Astus.

And that person was supposed to be coming to Avheia for the festival that was starting this very night.

Vaendael, himself, was coming to Avheia.

Shuffling around the edge of the last house between her and the eastern tower, Migyn saw Hunter Vosyn’s patrol heading in her general direction. With careful steps and bated breath, Migyn edged around their line of sight.

“Do you think it’s true?” Hunter Tael was asking as they came into earshot.

“That Ervalis has the prettiest girls in all of Easalan?” Vosyn asked.

“No, idiot, the Sun Lord.”

“I thought it was a woman?”

“It was a woman,” Tael said. “Two hundred years ago. The Goddess Vaendael is a woman, and the first Incarnate was a woman, but Incarnates have never been tied to gender.”

“Regardless, they’re saying it's a man this time. One of the Xenris lordling’s ilk,” Hunter Cox said.

“I heard it’s an old man with hair like fire, skin like leather, and gems for eyes,” Tael said. “All creepy-like.”

“A bloody lot of nonsense, if you ask me,” said Vosyn. “Whoever he is, he’s a lucky bastard; probably had every woman he wanted in every town he’s been in.”

“Would you please not be so disrespectful!” Tael exclaimed.

“Plus, if he is an old man, I’d rather not have that image in my head, thanks,” Cox said.

“You’re only like that ’cause no girls are interested in you,” Vosyn teased.

“Isn’t the Saint supposed to, you know, remain pure?” asked Tael.

“Don’t be stupid,” said Vosyn.

“Why is it stupid? It’s the rules of Vaendael’s church!”

“That’s exactly what makes it stupid. Who follows the rules?”

“I do!”

“Which makes you even more stupid...”

Gods they are awful, aren’t they? Idiots. Migyn cringed as she listened to them banter. Moving slowly around the corner, she stuck her head out to see if anyone else was coming.

“It would have been much more interesting if the Saint was a woman,” Vosyn said in a loud, whiny voice. “Did you see the girl in that dancer troop from Vallis?”

“They’re from Gryfall,” Cox corrected. “And I don’t think the Saint’s gender is relevant. Man or woman, they’ll do Vaendael’s bidding just as well.”

“Say’s you,” Vosyn scoffed.

“Perhaps the Festival of Night’s Fall is not the time to have this conversation,” Tael said wearily.

“Who cares? Not like any foreigners are gonna be in the castle grounds proper, anyway. Forget our worthless patrols—you know how many guards Lord Verdyn stationed at the western gates. I wonder if the little minx slipped her guard yet.”

Migyn’s ears perked up as the topic shifted. The only “minx” they could be talking about was her, and knowing the western gates were so heavily guarded could affect her plans.

“You’d better hope she hasn’t,” Tael said gravely. “We’ll have double training sessions till the end of our lives.”

“I’m surprised you have any hope,” Vosyn said. “She nearly escaped last year, and she might well be successful this year. Let’s hope you find a good girl this year who will make the pain more bearable…”

The hunter’s voices faded from earshot. Migyn tsked.

Seems like Lord Verdyn has shuffled the guards’ routine early. It was probably on purpose. He’d likely noticed her paying more attention than usual to the changing of the guard and the patrol routes. If they would just let me leave through the front gate, they wouldn’t have to deal with it!

Once she’d dealt with Vaendael, they would be safer without her anyway. That was the whole idea.

With her gone, Avheia would be a safe and normal little castle town and everyone could do whatever they wanted.

But she couldn’t leave just yet. Astus or no Astus, Migyn wanted some assurance that Avheia would be safe.

In either of her lives, Avheia was her home. For all the pain of her childhood, Avheia welcomed her, and Avheia died for her. Even if it meant trading her life and freedom for it, she would repay that.

Migyn’s eyes dashed side to side before setting back onto her target.

Due to the crumbling status of the castle, the towers and rooms of the curtain wall surrounding Avheia were almost all closed off. The Easarians controlling the castle after the war had taken great lengths to seal the entrances properly, but that had been nearly a century ago, when an Astus Migyn never knew fought a war of their own.

Migyn was hardly the first one curious about the outlines of the out-of-place white mortar, and the former doorways had had more than a few holes poked in them over the years.

Holes that troublesome children like her had taken advantage of.

Behind the bushes and overgrowth at the tower’s base, following the line of the sealed-off door, was a hole just big enough for a small person.

Migyn checked once more to ensure the patrol was out of sight, then bolted across the road. Diving into the thicket, she shoved her bag through the hole before sliding through herself. With a great deal of satisfaction, she grinned and ascended the stone steps within.