Welcome to [i]Red[/i], an [i]A Mage Reborn[/i] side story!

*page_break

Shadows move across Arvanand, deadly-silent as they unfurl and plunge deep into the soil of nations. Like dusk falling over distant mountains, it looms and grows and creeps ever forward, an engulfing black sky bereaved of its stars. All across the land, the lord and the farmer alike feel its shockwaves roiling underfoot, watch as the world they know shift slowly but surely out of its axis.

In the kingdom of knights, a nobleman shivers as he receives news of his brother-in-law's passing. The former earl was a lifelong knight, wielded a blade better at sixty-five than most soldiers in the king's employ. And yet he is found dead in his own training grounds, silver armor donned and grip still tight around his blade—a puncture in his heart the only mark his murderer left behind.

(Another border lord found dead. How long until he is next?)

In the city of merchants, there is a disruption in the flow of trade, like ripples across still water. Rare herbs and magicked minerals, purchased at record prices and smuggled out in the dead of night—never again to see the light of day. Merchant-princes and trade guilds alike pour their resources without measure in search of the phantom buyer, and always to no avail.

(Who wields the wealth of kings, and slips away like a gutter thief?)

In the Grand Duke's domain, the honored nobles are plunged into a whirlwind of hearsay and scandal. Even the most informed, the spymasters and the lords, have nothing to say of the specter that hangs over their court—they know not the hand which has sealed their doom, or to whom their venom should be leveled. The most they ever perceive is the aftermath: their plans laid bare and torn askew, like tattered sails in an unforgiving storm—cruel and methodical, in a way that can only be intentional.

(But when the whole of the Duchy has been thrown into chaos, who is it that stands to benefit?)

*page_break

Only the enlightened so much as thinks of the spires of Isha's Seat, glimmering like pearls even in supposed disrepair. A realm of ancient magic and pillaged knowledge, with hidden secrets as black as its grudge. Those who survived encounters with its envoys number few and far between—and what they know, they never speak of, for fear of the violent repercussions.

(But it haunts their dreams still, the triad of masked mages who held their lives within their palms. What human should have the power of gods at their behest? Who is there to blame for provoking their wrath?)

A tamer of the demon snake, whose speartip glints like the flash of dawn as it descends.

A purveyor of life and death, who wields blade and strange healing both with equal mastery.

And perhaps most formidable of all: the fox-masked mage with hair spun from raging flames, upon whose orders tempests erupt.

What name do their allies whisper, when their guard is lowered and the masks cast aside?

*choice
     #Yusuha
        *set gyusuha "male"
        *set yhe "he"
        *set yhim "him"
        *set yhis "his"
        *set ytheirs "his"
        *set yhes "he's"
        *set yvar 1
        *set yusuha "Yusuha"
        *set ym "young master"
        *set genderset true
        *goto red
     #Yurui
        *set gyusuha "female"
        *set yhe "she"
        *set yhim "her"
        *set yhis "her"
        *set ytheirs "hers"
        *set yhes "she's"
        *set yvar 2
        *set yusuha "Yurui"
        *set ym "young mistress"
        *set genderset true
        *goto red
         

*label red
The world crescendoes to its climax, poised for a transformation fit to shake the doors of heaven.

But before the execution pyre flickered to life, before the king is slaughtered and his subjects scattered to the four winds, a young mage sits upon cushions of threaded gold. $!{yhis} smile is ever bright and benign, but ${yhe} hides an inextinguishable darkness in the recesses of ${yhis} heart.

This is ${yhis} story.
*page_break

"Yuhai, how strong do you think I am?"

The words catch her off-guard, as it is the first time she's ever heard them from her ${ym}'s mouth. The child must know as well as anyone that ${yhe} is one of Yotai's premiere magical talents, even had ${yhe} not wanted to. As ${yhis} governess, she had been present as compliments stagedive off of tutor's tongues and are repeated in hushed whispers by the Quarter's servants. That ${yhis} potential outstrips even that of the [i]kugen[/i], is rivaled only by ${yhis} cousin in this generation.

She purses her lips and looks at the child curiously. Gangly limbs splayed over arithmetic tables, a gaze kept at once on her and something intangible in the distance. "It's unlike you to be vain," she says softly. "You know full well of the potential you hold."

"That's not what I'm asking," ${yhe} pouts, disappointed. "I don't need to know how well I'll do twenty, thirty years from now. [i]Now[/i], Yuhai. How strong am I [i]now[/i]?"

Privately, she wracks her brain for whatever could give rise to the question. What use might a fourteen year old noble have for power, that ${yhe} is so desperate to be told ${yhe} has enough of it? "I am a theurge, ${ym}, not a combat mage. I would not know where to begin measuring," she finally says, though the frown on her charge's face lets her know her lie had been marked as such. "But might I ask—why the sudden concern?"

The young mage blows air between the folds of ${yhis} lips. "You refuse to give me an answer, yet expect one for yourself," ${yhe} says. "How unfair, Yuhai."

"Very well, very well," she relents. "I will tell you in what terms I can, if you promise to tell me what piqued your curiosity. Know that the answer will be vague, for this is far from my discipline of learning."

The child perks up visibly. "I don't need a thesis, just an apple-to-apple comparison. You can do that, right?"

"A comparison?" she says, cocking her head. "Yes, I suppose that should be little trouble."

"Compare me to Shiraya."

Ah, a friendly rivalry, then. The @{yvar boy|girl} had never been particularly partial to the idea of taking the [i]kugenate[/i], but ${yhe} did regard ${yhis} cousin as some manner of mountain to scale. It is only a matter of time before the two would be put to spar against one another, but it appears the child's curiosity could not bear the wait. She feels the tendrils of worry clutching her heart begin to slowly relax as she considers her words.

"Shiraya has you soundly beat in the fields of alchemy and theurgy, though she has an unfair advantage in the latter—unlike you, she's had her Ascendance already, and is likely to be recommended into a cleric position," she says at length, keeping a measured glance at the @{yvar boy|girl}. $!{yhe} nods in agreement with her every word, appearing to accept ${yhis} shortcomings with much grace. "Your enchantments are roughly equal in standing, if of different disciplines. But were you to come to a full-blown fight, I believe you would come out on top, for your command over thaum is far better than hers, and your casting speed would render most of her arts inaccessible."

"You do yourself too little credit," the child grins, crossing ${yhis} arms in satisfaction. "That was most enlightening."

"I'm sure you think so," she sighs. She knows it was exactly what ${yhe} wanted to hear—not that any of it was a lie. "Will that be all? Will you hold up your end of the bargain now?"

"Just one more thing," ${yhe} says, and the governess nearly balks as she witnesses the shift in the @{yvar boy|girl}'s eyes. A glint of something she can only describe as [i]red[/i], thick as blood and bright as flames, redder still than the shade of ${yhis} hair.

*page_break "Now compare me to my father."

She has known Miya since they were children, but every time she beholds the woman she is struck anew by her beauty. The gently sloping planes of her face, a contrast to her sharp, intelligent eyes. Flowing hair that looks nearly aflame in the morning sun, a burning cascade over her pure silk garments.

In her every waking moment, Miya looks as if she'd been dreamed up by a court painter, and she would be equal parts jealous and enraptured had they not been the best of friends.

And now that friendship is what she must rely on to convince her of the threat at hand—her very own child, gangly-thin at fourteen.

"Madam, this is not something you could just gloss over," she says, insistent. "${yusuha} may have designs against your husband. There is a real threat of your household's dissolution."

Her friend's smile remains calm, beatific. "Come now, Yuhai. There is no need to jump at shadows so." She shakes off her concerns as if they were the dew of dawn, and she the flower blossoming in the field. The sight of it frustrates her to no end. "You are ${yhis} governess, I understand, but you see in ${yhim} a monster where there is but a fledgling bird. Me, on the other hand—I know my child, and I know ${yhe} would never do such a thing."

"But Madam—"

"There will be nothing to worry about. Of this, I am sure," she says sweetly. "${yusuha} is a well-behaved child, and wise beyond ${yhis} years."

"I know this just as well as you," she protests. "But I am a warrior first and a governess second, and I can recognize bloodthirst when I—"

"Thank you for your concern," the madam interrupts. "I know it springs from worry for me and my @{yvar son|daughter} both. But will you not trust ${yhim}, as I do? You are ${yhis} governess—if ${yhe} does not find support with you, where will ${yhe} find it?"

She sees the stubborn set to her old friend's jaw, the eyes that plead for her queries to stop. She feels her shoulders sink in defeat. "Will you truly not heed my warning, Madam? ${yusuha} is nearly as powerful as ${yhis} father now—I fear I can do little to stop ${yhim}, should ${yhe} live up to my worries."

"You will find no cause to do such," she smiles. "Do you trust me, Yuhai?"

She sighs and purses her lips. She can never win an argument against her childhood friend, always finds herself giving way under that immovable smile. The words are sour as they fall from her lips, but they do so all the same.

*page_break "Always, Miya."

Having walked away from the conversation with nothing to show for it, the governess would spend her every waking hour observing the movements of her red-headed charge.

When the @{yvar boy|girl} would wake up at the crack of dawn, she would watch ${yhim} wash ${yhis} face behind the sill of her window. When ${yhe} goes to ${yhis} outings beyond the Quarter's walls, she would be a shadow that trails behind ${yhim} mere paces away. When the child pries into her past, thirsts openly for combat arts and spells best set aside for wartime, all her teeth would give ${yhim} a smile, and that is usually enough to stay ${yhis} queries.

She had been very, very wrong, in the end.

It is not the child she needed to fear, but ${yhis} [i]father[/i].

*page_break

Red is all she can see.

Red is the hilt of the blade as he pulls it from the wall, the bell-strings ringing where they dangle, hollow as a funeral bell.

Red is the flutter of robes as Miya begs for mercy, knees crashing against the floor, sweet promises a river on her trembling tongue.

Red is the splatter of ichor against silk and velvet, the squelch that resounds as she slumps forward.

Red is the sheen of the blade as it is drawn and plunged, drawn and plunged, until the body goes still and the screams die out.

Red is the very air as she gasps for breath, reaches for the child who has seen what no child should see, fruitless hands struggling to pull ${yhim} away.

Red is the crest of mana that swells and bloats and builds, until it looms like a beast in rage, sends her crashing against the walls.

Red is the furious blaze that follows.

Red is all she can see.

*page_break

She sneaks the @{yvar boy|girl} out as fire towers over the Quarter, past swarms of courtiers and attendants that miss them for the chaos, and descends like a madwoman down the rain-slick steps. She fears a fatal tumble with every step she takes, but her warrior's reflexes serve her well and see her safely arrive at the base. She runs through thickets and down side-streets, past curious gazes that linger for but moments before they return to the smoke-painted sky.

Through it all the child weeps quietly in her arms, weak enough that she fears ${yhe}'s due for the worst. But she knows deep in her heart that the worst is all what awaits the child should ${yhe} stay, and so she continues to run, to deny ${yhim} the aid that would see ${yhim} dead all the same.

It takes her all of her slowly accumulated favors, throaty pleas and soles that chafe and bleed against the ground, but she finally finds a man willing to take the child across the mountains, the gold with which to buy his silence. They are upon the docks as the search party descends on Kyuhan City, and are long since taken by the night when they throw her body over the pier.

*page_break

*set povchange true
…

*page_break

A flash of thunder in the distant sky, a cloudy sky bereaved of the stars, waves that roil and crash violently against the shoreline.

Everything about the sight reminds ${yhim} of that fateful night, when ${yhe} had thrown everything ${yhe}'d known into a cascade of flames, and been rescued from the clutches of certain death.

$!{yhe} would later learn the price that ${yhis} savior had paid, and wonder what good it did the world, to have him snuck away into the night whilst Yuhai sank to the bottom of the sea. Surely it would have been better, [i]fairer[/i] for her to survive? A warrior who had fully matured into her powers, saved countless people by the sweat of her own brow. How many more would she had saved, had she been the one to make it instead?

Every beat of ${yhis} heart rings hollow. Tonight more than any other night, ${yhe} wishes ${yhe} could barter ${yhis} life.

"I should've known you'd be brooding out here."

The low, gruff voice is accompanied by a heavy plop at ${yhis} side, and a lily-wreathed umbrella that perches itself overhead. It pelts away the rain like cobblestones across the seawater, and the @{yvar boy|girl} finds ${yhim}self wishing ${yhe} could be as one with it. Sand dances between ${yhis} fingers as ${yhe} digs ${yhis} fingers in. $!{yhe} wishes to be anywhere else right now.

"Good of you to join me, Ligai," ${yhe} says instead, keeping ${yhis} eyes fixed on the stormy seas. "Finally got bored of the brothel?"

"I'll not have you badmouthing the good Madam," he says, grinning as he shakes his head. "But I suppose I can let it go for tonight. You're always out of sorts when a storm hits."

The @{yvar boy|girl} scoffs in distaste. "Am I? Not very vigilant of me, to have become so predictable."

The man sighs at ${yhis} words, tentatively places a hand against ${yhis} back. He's always radiated the tired, rough-edged sort of kindness, the kind ${yhe} didn't deserve. He'd took ${yhim} in at the ferryman's request, and wept in private when he'd heard his sister had passed. Took in the brat she'd given her life to save.

"You don't need vigilance anymore," he says. "The [i]kugenate[/i] gave up on looking for you months ago."

"That's what they'd want me to think. The [i]kugenate[/i] never gives up on [i]anything[/i], least of all people who've done them wrong."

"I suppose you'd know better than me," he relents. "Still, it'd be a right shame for you to do aught but look over your shoulder all the time."

"Maybe so, but I—"

"I know that's not the reason you're like this," the man interrupts, firm but not unkind. "And I hope you can be kinder to yourself. You keep beating yourself up over that night…that's not what Yuhai would have wanted. She didn't lay down her life so you could waste yours away. She'd have wanted you to live. [i]Truly[/i] live."

The @{yvar boy|girl} finds ${yhim}self stunned into silence by those words, ${yhis} mind wandering towards the image of ${yhis} strong, fearless governess. $!yhis} deliverer, who parted from ${yhim} with a smile when the dinghy would only fit two.

What would she say of the pathetic @{yvar boy|girl} that ${yhe} had become? Or would she have found wisdom and mercy for ${yhim}, as her brother had done?

$!{yhe} realizes then that despite all Yuhai had given ${yhim}, ${yhe} scarcely even knew the woman. She had been a kind, patient tutor despite her rougher edges, but they spoke of arithmetic and theurgy more than they did about their dreams and their past. What could ${yhe} infer about that ghost of a woman? How had ${yhe} become so convinced that she'd want ${yhim} to languish in grief and guilt?

All ${yhe} can do is to trust the only person who'd known her from the womb, the only family she has left behind—the man sitting beside ${yhim}, bushy-bearded and kind-eyed, who has told ${yhim} to [i]live[/i].

$!{yhis} lips part as if gasping for air, gasping for words that carry meaning, and ${yhe} finds that ${yhe} comes up short. What could ${yhe} say to a man that had shown ${yhim} wisdom and grace, when ${yhe} had only ever given ${yhim} pain?

"Mm," is what ${yhe} finally says.

"Damn, that's all?" the man laughs, and the sound of it echoes in ${yhis} very bones. "That was supposed to get you riled up and everything."

The @{yvar boy|girl} manages a shaky chuckle. "Oh, it did. This is how that looks for me."

"That so? I'm glad to hear it," the man guffaws, digging his knuckles into the @{yvar boy|girl}'s hair. "No need to rush to pull yourself back together, you hear? One foot in front of the other. Just as long as you keep moving forward, it'll be good enough for now."

The man pushes the lilycover into ${yhis} hands and stands up, locks of black hair greeting the heavy rain. "You take care of yourself, now, you hear?" he says, smiling over his shoulders. "It's what she would have wanted."

Ten sand-dampened steps that echo through the night, and the @{yvar boy|girl} finds ${yhim}self compelled to stop the man. "Wait," ${yhe} calls out.

A full-bodied turn, burly hands that sweep hair out of his eyes. "OI?"

"I'll do you one better, old man," ${yhe} grins, feeling for the first time in a long time like ${yhe} means it. The words taste sweet and foreign on ${yhis} tongue, but ${yhe} says it with all the conviction ${yhe} can muster—

*page_break "I'll take care of you, too."

This is the end of [i]Red[/i]. Thank you for playing!