Chapter 11

Nyx

Chapter 11

            The room was freezing, but Nyx didn’t care. She was nestled under her blankets, wrapped in the warm embrace of her dreams and ignorant to the world around her. Sunlight streamed through the open window and reflected off the snow that covered the floor. Glittering ice crystals covered every inch of the room, sparkling in response to the rising sound. Birds chirped outside, greeting the new day with a melody of sounds. The lovely chorus was accompanied by a rather undignified groan coming from her slowly rousing roommates.

            A screech echoed through the room, no doubt originating from some vile morning creature. The bird’s chirping silenced at the intrusion of this new voice, offended that it had thrown off the delicate tempo of their symphony. 

            “What the- IS THAT SNOW?” the creature screamed. Nyx burrowed deeper into the covers, intent on ignoring whoever was making the racket. Her dreams returned in a smooth flow; the wind fluttering over her feathers as she danced a ballet to an unknown song in the sky. She would dive and rise as the currents commanded it, following the autumn leaves that flipped and tumbled in the wind around her. The scenery changed, and Nyx found herself strolling under the red and gold trees, fallen leaves crunching underfoot. A crisp chill was in the air and the scent on November scents tickled her nose. She knew not where she was going, nor what would await her when she arrived, but this was unimportant. All that mattered was the present, she realized as she stood gazing at the sheer beauty that nature was showcasing for her.

            “SNOWBALL FIGHT!!!” The outside world once again made a grab for her attention. A whimper escaped her lips as she fought the pull of consciousness. It was hopeless; the dreams had escaped her grasp. Nyx cracked open one eye to see what was making all the racket.

            “I swear if you throw that-” She heard the sound of a muffled impact, shortly followed by a high pitched girly scream. “I’m going to kill you!” Someone else in the room yelped.

            “Where did all this snow come from?” Autumn asked.

            “Questions later, I need to kill Lyric first!” Whise growled.

            “It was Nyx!” Lyric was dashing around the room, several snowballs in her arms, and trying to stay away from Whise. Nyx was still curled in a ball, the covers wrapped like a protective shell around her, keeping the cold at bay.

            “How could it be? She’s still asleep. GET BACK HERE!” Whise said. Lyric launched several snowballs at Whise as she continued to elude her. Nyx let loose a loud yawn, drawing the attention of her roommates.

            “About time you woke up.”

            “Come join the snowball fight!”

            Nyx grumbled and closed her eyes, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep. Autumn peered up into the top bunk, and poked Nyx on the nose. “Hey, wake up.” Nyx groaned and opened a single eye.

            “No…s’cold… sleepy.” Autumn was having none of that and pulled the covers off of her.

            “You can be sleepy later. There is snow on our floor.” Autumn said, crossing her arms.

            “Oh… whoops…” Nyx forgot to put her daggers in their scabbards last night. When she had finally made it back to the Academy, she was so exhausted she just discarded the naked blades on the floor next to her boots. The Everfrost imbued in the blades must have frozen the floor overnight. The scabbards she had canceled out the effects of the Everfrost, but when left uncovered, whatever it was touching would usually freeze.

            Autumn narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean whoops? What did you do?” Nyx quickly explained that her new daggers were imbued with Everfrost and she left them on the floor. “Well get up then! We need to clean all this up before classes.”

            The morning drudged by at a snail’s pace. They worked hard to clean the snow out of the room, listing to the nonstop grumbling from Whise. Classes also failed to hold Nyx’s attention. She sat there idly flicking her pencil around the desk, bored out of her mind. She didn’t even know what the professors were lecturing about that day, but it must have been unimportant, since half the class was sleeping.

            The bell rang, and Nyx was out the door in the blink of an eye, escape clear in her mind. She broke into a sprint, a grin on her face. Finally she was free, the smith would be waiting, forging feather blades for her. She made it two steps when a hand grabbed the back of her coat, causing her to choke and stumble back.

            Behind her stood Autumn, Whise and Lyric. “Where exactly do you think you are going?” An annoyed frown graced the older girl’s mouth.

            “I was uh-” Nyx began.

            “Yeah, no. I can see the lie on your tongue. Why do you keep running off? You disappear pretty much every day for hours on end.” Autumn crossed her arms, going into overprotective mom mode.

            “Are you meeting up with a boy?” Whise asked, grinning wickedly.

            Nyx turned bright red. “WHAT?!? N-No! I’m just-”

            “Stop stuttering Nyx, its unbecoming.” Whise told her, still grinning. Nyx was at a loss of words. She had no idea how to act or what to say. The smith’s warning came flooding back to her. It wasn’t if they found out, it was when.

            Nyx wasn’t ready to be spilling the details of her secret life just yet. “Hey look, it’s snowing!” Nyx yelled, while pointing out the window. It was, in fact, snowing, and this time it wasn’t her dagger’s fault. All three of her roommates turned to look out the window, and Nyx vanished around the corner.

            Through the corridors and down the stairs she ran, bursting through the front door and sprinting across the snow covered grounds. She could hear the sounds of her roommates perusing her as the forest closed in around her. The second the trees were overhead, Nyx snapped open her wings and blasted deep into the forest.

            The snow fell in big flat flakes, batting against her face as she zoomed through the forest. Everything was quiet, and a sort of peace filled the dangerous woods. It seemed as if even the monsters had stopped to enjoy the first snow of the season.

            Nyx glided effortlessly through the trees, which had taken on a black and white appearance due to the snow piling on their branches. By the time that she arrived at the marketplace, a thick blanket of the cold white stuff covered everything. She watched as some younger kids shoveled the snow, hoping to earn a bit of money.

            The smith was in a poor mood. Saying he didn’t like the cold would be an understatement. His tribe of dark skinned faunus haled from the hottest parts of the southern deserts, and was not used to such cold climates. She took the weapons he gave her, and got to work selling them.

            There were not many customers that day, due to most seeking shelter from the cold weather. The work was boring, but Nyx was giddy with happiness. Unlike the smith, she loved the cold. Her family had come from the farthest reaches of the northern mountains, and snow had always reminded her of home.

            The day’s trading was all but done when the smith called her into the tent, handing her two more feather blades. For the next several hours they spent training with them. He would show her the uses and advantages of each blade. When to throw them, and when to use them for slashing attacks.

            “Remember to never block with them. They are not strong enough to deflect a blade, and would most likely injure you. Dodge or block with your daggers.” While they trained, he would regale her with tales of his life. Sometimes he would speak of his family back home, other times he spoke of his adventures while trading.

            Nightfall arrived, and she bid him a good night, flying home under the light of the shining stars. Her roommates tried to pry her for information but she ignored them and collapsed into her bed.

            Time passed in a blur. Days turned into weeks, Fall turning to Winter. Every day was the same. She would go to class, vaguely pay attention and await the end of school. The bell would ring and she would make her hasty escape. Several times her roommates had tried to follow her, once even being so bold as to lay a trap for her. It never worked though, the second she entered the forest, they would always lose her.

            Trading was like the sea. Some days it would be calm and boring while other days would be filled with countless orders, repairs and purchases. At the end of each day, for a few hours, the smith would instruct her in the use of her blades. The training was grueling, countless amounts of time spent on increasing her dexterity with the feather blades, learning the different forms and attacks with them. It was hard and at the end of each practice, she felt ready to pass out.

            It was the time after the training that she looked forward to the most. The smith would make her hot chocolate while grumbling about the cold, then would sit her down and tell her more stories. The topics usually centered around her Faunus heritage, since the smith had decided her knowledge in the subject was lacking at best.

            Night would fall, she would fly home, and the process would repeat itself. One Saturday morning, she woke up bright and early, catching the first rays of sunlight to pierce through the horizon as she flew into town. Snow covered the forest and she could make out the animal tracks in the deep snow drifts. The town was just beginning to wake up when she strolled into it. A new boat had arrived the day prior with fresh traders and goods. Usually she would explore the new wares, but not today.

            This morning, she was drawn right to the smith’s stall and hut, a growing sense of dread unsettling her stomach. She walked around the corner, and there was his tent. It was different than usual. His armorer supplies were packed up, bundles of fresh weapons were tied together and ready to be moved. The familiar ring of his hammer was absent. Suddenly the air seemed much colder and she pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they pulled her in the direction of the tent entrance.

            There he sat, among boxes of things ready to be moved. His eyes were centered on two white feather shaped blades. They glinted in the candle light, the only source of illumination within the tent. His face was absent of emotions, but she could see the sad glint in his eyes. He was leaving. She had known deep down that he would have to leave eventually, but she had tried her best not to think about it.

            “These are the last two feathers to your set.” He said, still not taking his eyes off the feather blades. “I have taught you all the basics in their use. It is up to you to continue training.” She stayed standing in the entrance, at a loss for words. He was leaving. The reality of it crashed down upon her mind all at once. He was the only person she could be around without pretending to be someone else. With him gone, her life would return to the bleak state it had been a little over a month ago. She would spend her time staying under the radar, trying to forget all that she was and replace it with a false alias.

            He finally looked up at her, offering her a sad smile. “Today I board the ship and begin the journey home.” She said nothing, and the silence between them stretched for an infinite amount of time. The smith stood, taking the two feather blades and pressing them into the palm of her hand. “You have learned a great deal since we first met. I still wish you would find your own people, but I understand your desire to remain here.” He took her by the hand and led her to the bench, making her sit down next to him.

            There on the table next to them was a small leather tube and a blue stone box. Her eyes were drawn to the box. It looked old. Runes were carved into the exterior, and the once rough edges had been worn smooth through the ages.

            “I have two gifts to give you.” He opened the box and pulled out a long silver needle. “You never received the mark on your eleventh birthday. I can give it to you now, if that is your desire.” She glanced up at the black feather tattooed under his left eye. “It will forever mark you as one of us, and other Faunus will recognize you for what you are. The downside is it will make hiding your true identity much harder among the humans. Most will not understand the significance of the mark, but there are still quite a few who will recognize it immediately. You must choose.”

            Nyx didn’t know what to say. The smith was right, she could list several teachers who would be able to recognize the mark at the school. This small little tattoo could be the cause of much trouble… and she honestly didn’t care. She was going to try her hardest to keep her secret, but this mark just felt right. In all honesty, she couldn’t begin to describe the feeling, but she knew deep down that she needed this, consequences be damned.

            Nyx swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes.” A hint of a smile crossed over the smith’s face. He reached into the box and withdrew two vials. One was filled with a inky substance as dark as the night sky. The other was the purest of white, taking on the appearance of fresh snow.

            “Black is used on the southern tribe, white on the northern tribe. While the color may be different, the mark is the same for both.” He opened the white ink, dipping the long silver needle into it, and holding it to her face. “This will hurt at first, and will take a long while. Hold as still as possible.

            The needle pierced her skin, causing her to wince a little. She relaxed her body, willing herself to be still. Again and again the needle punctured her skin. She kept her eyes focused on the smith as he concentrated on his work. While small, the feather pattern was incredibly complex, and took several hours. After a time, her face grew numb, and she could no longer feel the bite of the steel as it stabbed her face. Morning had come and gone, the sun resting in the center of the sky.

            The smith leaned back, cleaning the blood off the needle. He placed the supplies back into the stone box and closed it before inspecting his work. She could not see the result, but he seemed proud with the result. The smith took a damp rag and lightly wiped at her face, then placed a small bandage over it.

            “Keep that on for a few days.” She lightly touched the bandage, wincing as her face throbbed in pain. He swatted her hand away. “Rubbing it will just irritate the skin and prolong the healing.”

            “Sorry… Will you come back?” There it was. The question that had been plaguing her all morning was finally in the open. The smith looked away, lost in thought or memory. Once more silence filled the tent. Nyx began to fidget, her cheek itching something awful, but it was nothing compared to her desire to know his answer. 

            “I don’t know. I have been away from my family for several months. I don’t plan on traveling for a long while once I return. It is always a possibility I guess, but I can’t make any promises. I can however give you something better.” He reached for the leather tube, and removed one of the end caps, pulling out its contents. Within was an old rolled piece of parchment. The smith spread it out across the table, showing her a map of the southern deserts.

            “This shows the location of my tribe. If you ever are in the area, we would welcome you with open arms.” He flipped over the map, showing another. This one was of the northern mountains. “This was the last recorded location of the tribe your family came from. I don’t know if it is still there…” He left the rest unspoken. When her family had left the tribe, the local human population had turned violent. She could return and find everything well and good… or she could return to find broken and burnt ruins of a once peaceful people.

            The smith stood and strode out of the tent, carrying the last possessions left in the tent. Crew members of the ship had come and taken his belongings to the ship while she was getting her mark. The smith shrugged the pack over his shoulder and wrapped her in a tight embrace. His strong arms blocked the outside world from view and Nyx couldn’t help but remember the hug her father had given her in the dream.

            “Thank you for everything.” She whispered into his chest, giving him one final squeeze. He released her and took a step back, smiling.

            “Be safe hatchling.” With those three simple words, he turned around and walked out of her life forever.