"You've got to be bloody kidding me!" exclaimed Veythar, shaking his head at the transformation. He met a pair of round almond-shaped eyes glaring holes into his scull. He shook his head, "You seem nearly human."
Eosira puffed her cheeks, she had finally allowed herself to take a bath but still felt wronged. It had taken nearly two hours of constant nagging from Veythar until she was allowed of the icy waters. Despite being too skinny, a child-like beauty encompassed the young girl, making her eyes glimmer brightly.
Her silvery-gold hair fell down to just below he shoulders in soft waves. He pale white skin bore no blemishes but had a healthy tint to it. She continued glaring at him through gritted teeth.
She had just finished her cold bath when she came to find that Veythar had burned her clothes.
"Leave them to the hells." he said before she pounced on him.
And again, for a second time, Veythar had found his laughter after an eternity of suffering and anguish. She had attacked him for an hour before she gave up. Each time she was about to get him, he slipped away, always just beyond her reach.
She sighed and turned to look at the darkening skies. "Haa... what am I going to do now..." she said before she felt a soft warm sensation brush against her naked skin. "How... how did you do that?" she asked as she looked at the set of furs in her arms.
She could not believe it, these were the furs that they skinned off the bear just hours earlier. It normally took days to prepare and dry furs to be fit for wearing.
"I'm an Arcanist, we are lazy by nature." Said Veythar plainly. "Draining the blood out of the furs makes it easier to dry. Now get dressed, I'm not a nudist like my brother."
"What's a nudist?" Eosira asked tilting her head.
Veythar shook his head at her innocence.
"Since it's too late to teach you the art of swordsmanship and the arcanes, we'll start tomorrow morning." He said as he glanced at the setting sun. "So I wanted to ask, do you know how to read or write?"
Eosira shook her head as she sat next to him.
"Then starting today I'll officially teach you how to read and write." He explained, releasing a yawn as weariness began to overwhelm him. "Now before we start, I've only one rule. Never... ever, touch my sword without my permission." The iciness in his tone made Eosira shudder. "Clear?" he asked.
Eosira gulped before nodding. "Clear."
"Good, then let's eat and we can begin your education."
In the following weeks, Veythar had found himself busy. More so than before his fall. Eosira had been a genius in her own right, and it was not just her monsterous strength that towered over most grown men. It was her comprehension that was quite remarkable. It had taken her only a day to master reading and writing, before she moved on to the glyphs and runes Veythar imparted on her.
In the morning, Eosira would wake up at the crack of dawn. To which she'd learn the footwork of a sword and how to wield one. It had been especially her favorite when she got to spar with Veythar. Even though it always ended in her swift defeat. She was slowly getting better in his eyes. His elder brother and younger sister outright refused to spar with him on account of his lack of control, which more often than not led to nearly loosing an eye or a limb.
Eosira never once complained, she would wince then bounce back up with that silly smile on her face until noon. That was when the hunt began. Afterward, it would be a quick bath in the river, and after dinner, she would start her runic lesson.
During these few weeks, Veythar didn't sleep, though not for lack of trying. Thick large bags had formed under his eyes as insomnia festered through his mind like rot. He had contemplated having Eosira knock him out but dropped the idea as he tried to imagine what the girl would do if he slept before her.
On his now routine sleepless nights, he spent all his time creating a cultivation system to help refine the Arcana. 'A timely process,' he thought, missing his lab back on Technis.
He sighed as he reached into himself, seizing his spirit, he projected it into his eyes. And in his vision, it came. Weaving and twisting into an endless array of lines and nodes reminiscent of neurons communicating with each other like endless clusters of galaxies linked by filaments of dark matter.
The wyrd reflected from his pale eyes.
What it was, Veythar couldn't say, for a thousand years, it had followed him, and nine Aeon cycles later, it accompanied him in the Hells.
It had been the Wyrd that had shown him the path to escape, it had been the Wyrd that allowed him to tear his bloodline apart, and in turn destroying his genetic makeup. It was only because of his sword, forged from his old bones and fused with his soul, that he was alive.
"It was a necessary sacrifice." He said. High-tier bloodlines were not housed in the body but the soul. It is what allowed reincarnators to remain blessed even in death.
He had destroyed his bloodline to escape. The day of his escape, the Hells had nearly spit him out, unsure if his soul was the one it craved, loosening his restrictions enough that he was able to escape.
Suddenly, he frowned at a particular blue string threading into the forest. 'Intent' he identified turning to a particular ordinary tree. "Come out," he demanded, talking not to the person, but the string.
"So you can sense me." Came the gruff voice of Willard, Seemingly coming from nowhere. Lifting his concealment spell, he eyed the young boy with cautious eyes. Strutting towards the campfire, covered in soot from head to toe.
'Did I not channel mirage correctly?' Willard silently wondered. "My name is Willard," he said as he lifted his hood to reveal his dirt-brown hair. He paused, expecting an introduction but all he got was silence.
"Me and my colleagues were sent here to investigate the lightning that fell a month ago." He said as he tried to get a read on the young boy, but his face was stone. "Could you tell me what you saw that day?"
"It's midnight," Veythar said as he looked up at the sky.
"So what if it's midnight? Why does that matter?"
"Don't you know that it's rude to invade someone's home at night and demand information?" Veythar responded turning his piercing eyes to the young man. "Especially when I found you skulking around like a rat."
Returning to his previous position by the fire, he closed his eyes. "Leave, I've no information for you."
Willard felt heat flush his face, how dare he, how dare he humiliate him. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he calmed himself. "What? You have no Idea how long we've been in this godforsaken place. It's been a month, it took a week just to get here and two weeks in we haven't found shit!" He said as he reached into his robe placing his hand on his wand holster. "Tell me what you know or else."
Veythar cracked open his eyes, watching as the string attached to Willard turn a faint red. 'Aggression' he thought. "Or what, you're gonna kill two children? Have you even killed before?"
Hearing the child, not even half his age, Willard deflated. He could not stomach such an act. "Wha-what about her? wake and ask her if she knows anything." He said pointing to Eosira.
Just then, Eosira stirred groggily siting up, "What's happening big brother?" She asked still rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes.
"You there! Girl!..." Willard paused as he saw an irridescent light flash in his vision. So bright it was, it seemed almost blinding. It carved through his shoulder, piercing through the trees and grass like water.
And then, it came, a gruttal sound so piercing it would wake all those who heard it. The moss-green grass underfoot turned a deep shade of crimson red. Willard collapsed holding the stump where his arm had been.
"My arm! My arm!?" Willard screamed, thrashing on the ground, not caring for the wetness pooling in between his legs. "Give me back my arm!?"
"Homebrew zero spells are amazing aren't they," said Veythar as he approached the writhing Willard, twirling a small irridescent light in his two fingers. Stepping on the latter's head, he asked "Should I kill you or just leave you be?"
"Please don't kill me! Please, p-p-please, I don't want to die!?" Pleaded Willard, tears and snot running down his face.
"As my sister likes to say, that sounds like a personal problem." He said with an indifferent expression. Suddenly he felt Eosira's hand grab his, yanking him off his opponent. He doubled over, his face twisting before his mouth erupted in a thick chunky cascade of puke, splattering all over Willard.
Quickly snatching his hand away from her grip, he gave her a death glare. "Why the fuck did you touch me? Oh fucking hells, did you wash those things Oh! I'm dead."
"You saw me bathe just after dinner!" Eosira huffed. She felt wronged, Every time she touched him he would either puke or turn green. The only time it was fine was when he initiated contact.
"Why?" he looked confused.
"Because it's wrong!"
Tilting his head, he wondered, 'is she stupid?'. "He invaded my home and threatened me." He argued, rinsing out his mouth with a wooden flask of water.
"Seems quit reasonable to me."