Chapter Text
Leytiri exhales softly as she walks towards the Zyon’s study. The path is familiar but not an easy one to take. How many times has she walked this way to go to the Zyon, complaining about what one of the other initiates had done to her? Or, more likely, what she had done to them. The old man had spoken sternly to her more times than she could count and had even spanked her on her most notoriously bad days.
And now… he’s dead.
The Zyon is dead, and she was the person to kill him. Leytiri should be feeling proud of herself, if not happy, but she wasn’t. The man had been a grandfatherly figure for her since she was three years old. And he put her in a position to get raped, all so he could gain access to her dagger. And put her in the position so that she’d have to kill Prentis, the man who always thought of as her father.
As for the daggers, Leytiri wasn’t sure what she was going to do with them. Two of them by rights belonged to her, but she didn’t ever want to touch them again. The only thing she would ever be able to think about while holding one is that she’d used one of them to end Prentis’s life. It was what he wanted, he accepted it, but she killed him.
They needed to be destroyed. Leytiri would never let what happened today happen ever again. No one needed that ultimate power the Zyon coveted. While Leytiri was no longer part of the Order, she would protect them from the daggers. Avulor had been a fool to keep the daggers, even though hidden. She would not make the same mistake that he did. How he could have created them despite his love for his Seven was beyond her.
The Zyon never loved his Seven. Leytiri did though. It hurt to see them in pain because of him. If there was any way she could fix this, then she was going to try her damnedest or die trying.
When Leytiri gets to the Zyon’s study, she knocks on the door. A soft voice calls out, “Come in.”
Leytiri opens the door and immediately spots Arella sitting in the Zyon’s chair, pale and weak, but alive. Miraana stands next to her with her palms facing Arella, a glowing, warm light escaping them as she continues to heal Arella. “Arella, are you going to be okay?”
“I’m fine. Shut the door,” Arella tries to lift herself further in the seat but falters halfway up. She sinks into the chair and closes her eyes as Miraana’s spell grows brighter. “I’m so happy the both of you are okay.” Miraana’s lips quirk up for just a second before she firms them again, continuing her spell. “It aches my soul to know that Prentis didn’t make it, and some of our initiates. They will have a grand funeral. Unfortunately, action will need to be taken about the Zyon.”
Leytiri frowns. “What action?”
Arella opens her eyes. “His body. He has done a great, lasting harm to the Order that we can never allow anyone to forget about. In the Order’s history, we take our enemies out into the trees and leave their bodies for the animals to feast on. It is a dishonorable funeral, ensuring that he will never see peace. Prentis and the rest will be burned and their ashes interred here in the temple.”
“I didn’t know the Order did that to their enemies,” Leytiri thinks about it for a beat before she nods. “I’m alright with it. As long as Prentis and the others are honored, I don’t care what happens to the Zyon’s body.”
“More action needs to be taken,” Arella hesitates before she says, “Leytiri, we are now leaderless. He was with us for so many years that I barely remember a time when he wasn’t part of my life. Prentis was the natural successor but now Prentis is dead. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”
Leytiri shrugs. “You and DarJi have both been in the Order longer than the rest of the masters. You’d both do well as the new Zyon. I think you’d be better because you’re more mature than DarJi is but don’t tell him I said that.”
Miraana snickers and Arella shoots her a look. “DarJi would be perfectly capable of being the Zyon. You put my name forward and DarJi’s, Leytiri, but why have you not put your name forward as candidate for the new Zyon?”
“Wait,” Leytiri stares at Arella, shocked. She expects Miraana to start laughing at her but she doesn’t. The older woman just continues to heal Arella and doesn’t offer any input at all. That confuses Leytiri. “The two of you actually… want me to put my name forward? What can I offer the Order? I’m not even in the Order anymore!”
Miraana finally stops looking at Arella and turns to face Leytiri even though her hands are still performing her magic. “What can you offer the Order? Everything. You saved us, Leytiri. All of us would be dead if you hadn’t discovered the truth about Avulor’s weapons and how to destroy the spell. Not only are you a skilled mage, but you’re also the Dragonborn. There’s so much that you can teach us, Leytiri.”
It was the longest Miraana had ever spoken to Leytiri, and the most heartfelt. Her eyes burn and she feels them start to get wet. “Thank you, Miraana. I still don’t think I’m the right choice though. My magic is alright but I haven’t used it as often as I did before I left. I…” She hesitates before she looks at Arella. “I fight with a sword now. My sword has saved my life against many enemies and my dagger saved my life against Tovarr. I’m not willing to give up weapons for the Order.”
Arella exhales loudly and nods. “I understand. Perhaps we have been too rigid in our rules. Would you consider rejoining the Order and becoming the Zyon if members will be allowed to wield weapons as well?”
Leytiri thinks about it for only a few seconds before she shakes her head. “I’m willing to rejoin the Order, someday, but I have no interest in being the Zyon. I want to be free to go on adventures and settle down in a nice cottage and maybe get married and have children. This was my home, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stay here often. I’ll visit but not live here.”
“Okay,” Arella smiles at her and reaches out a hand, which Leytiri takes. Pale, white skin is striking against her gold. There are liver spots on Arella’s hand, mixed with blue veins and a small mole at the wrist. They were so different from each other, but the same. “The Order will decide who will be the next to lead them. Are you sure you don’t want to be the Master of Illusion?”
Gods, Leytiri wanted that more than anything else in the world. She’d be doing Prentis right and following in his footsteps, but his footsteps were too big to fill. Slowly, she pulls her hand away from Arella’s after she squeezes it. “My illusion magic is pitiful now, I’m afraid. I’ve actually become quite good at conjuration and restoration.”
“Really?” Miraana surprises Leytiri by smiling. “It seems my teachings have rubbed off on you, for a change.”
“I just wanted to be like him,” Leytiri smiles back. “I respected all of you, even if I was… not the friendliest person back then. I wanted…” She chokes. “I wanted him to be proud of me.”
“He was,” Miraana shocks Leytiri by being the one to speak. Miraana lowers her hands and the glowing light disappears. She turns to face Leytiri. “I know we haven’t gotten on, but he was always talking about you. He was proud of you. He loved you. Just as,” A pained look crosses her face. “Just as I do.”
Leytiri throws herself forward into Miraana’s arms and begins to sob, barely registering a soft, small hand patting her elbow. Miraana’s arms incircle her body and holds her.
No matter what would happen, they would always be family.
