Viridia is a world of unmatched savagery.
Thousands of seasons of accelerated evolution due to six Genesis Storms have ensured nature reigns supreme. In this primordial world, the Feralian elves face extinction with every changing of the moon cycle, and every drop of emerald rain shifts the balance of power further to nature’s side. Twisted monstrosities and foul nature spirits are kept at bay through extreme magic, and a relic of immense power: The Witchbreaker. An organic weapon of living tissue, it is powered by the life force of the wielder, capable of granting overwhelming power at the cost of the user’s blood. Eight trees across the feral landscape have evolved to produce a substance known as Xyla, usable as elixirs or to enchant items. Within the sentient forest of Silvion, the very bark of the trees is a gift to those that would undergo the excruciating grafting procedure. Despite their heightened capabilities, many believe the end of all time is at hand, as nature’s never-ending fury erases all vestiges of humanity.
These are tales of Viridia, legends brought forth through the aeons. Tales of paragons and butchers, witch doctors and shapeshifters, titans and spirits, heroism and sacrifice. In this barbaric realm, nature gives nor expects mercy, and evolution always wins.
Thousands of seasons of accelerated evolution due to six Genesis Storms have ensured nature reigns supreme. In this primordial world, the Feralian elves face extinction with every changing of the moon cycle, and every drop of emerald rain shifts the balance of power further to nature’s side. Twisted monstrosities and foul nature spirits are kept at bay through extreme magic, and a relic of immense power: The Witchbreaker. An organic weapon of living tissue, it is powered by the life force of the wielder, capable of granting overwhelming power at the cost of the user’s blood. Eight trees across the feral landscape have evolved to produce a substance known as Xyla, usable as elixirs or to enchant items. Within the sentient forest of Silvion, the very bark of the trees is a gift to those that would undergo the excruciating grafting procedure. Despite their heightened capabilities, many believe the end of all time is at hand, as nature’s never-ending fury erases all vestiges of humanity.
These are tales of Viridia, legends brought forth through the aeons. Tales of paragons and butchers, witch doctors and shapeshifters, titans and spirits, heroism and sacrifice. In this barbaric realm, nature gives nor expects mercy, and evolution always wins.
The Butcher's Blessing
Age of Awakening - Season Cycle 7554
Primus: her first blade. The cleaver that flayed the greasy scalp of Oriodon the Foul. An arm-long edge of unending sharpness, capable of hewing stone. No single blade in Feralian history bore responsibility for more death, save the second.
Altus: her second blade. The cleaver that brought forth a torrent of putrid blood from the throat of Mercilla the Vile. Due to material shortage, Altus was a pebble of weight lighter than Primus, and one fingertip shorter, yet no less deadly, the imbalance of the blades brought into symmetry from centuries of perfected barbarism.
A combined ocean of blood, innumerable deaths, and countless legends between them, yet only one was their master, resulting in a title earned through merciless decimation.
The Butcher.
Consumed by memories of chronicles past, Kronia Duskstrider’s cobalt eyes wrenched from her twin blades at the knock sounding outside her home. She shifted in her chair; the action causing a decrepit creak which she wasn’t sure emanated from the wood, or her ancient joints. Pressing to her feet, she staggered across the room and threw open the door, revealing the warmaster, Torgarr Moonfury, Lignum Magnus of the Feralian elves.
“For god’s sake, Kronia, put on your armor, you’re late again,” he said, his crimson and emerald chromatic eyes raking over her wrinkled frame, only covered by a faded violet robe.
Despite her advanced age, iron muscles rippled and jagged scars contorted as she tied her robe. “I need no fashion advice in my own home, Moonfury,” she said, placing a drop of venom on his name. “The only one I gave that honor to is long since gone, so if I care to flounce around nude I will do as I please.”
Torgarr raised a crooked eyebrow as he stepped inside, his immense physique brushing against the frame, while a candle cast a burnished hue over his hazel skin. He scanned the home, a dilapidated mess of grimy pelts, tattered clothes, and cracked wood. With one exception: the pair of twin war cleavers leaning against the wall maintained a polished shimmer along their edges. He leaned against the wall, gripping the hilt of his own blade, the legendary crescent sword known as Mooncleaver. “Silvion, a malacha if you please,” he said, addressing the sentient forest that grew not only their fruit, but the home in which they stood. In response, a nascent bloom emerged from a crack in the wall, and sprouted a delectable crimson fruit. He plucked the ripened specimen, and the branch receded into the wall.
“I have a mission for you, Kronia,” he stated, chomping into the fruit. “Silvion, a seat please.” At the request, gnarled timber emerged from the floor, spiraling upward and coalescing into an ornate chair which Torgarr took without invitation.
"Oh yes, just have a seat, I don’t mind,” Kronia said, sweeping back her shorn ashen hair before taking a seat herself. She crossed her legs, revealing the charred scars covering her alabaster skin. “You stopped sending me on real missions long ago, what is the problem now, is a vaeryx cub stuck up a tree?” She asked, her eyes flicking over to the twin cleavers leaning against the corner.
A slight grin emerged at the corner of Torgarr’s lips. Finishing the malacha, he tossed the core over his shoulder, and upon striking the side wall, the core dissipated, reconstituted into the wood. “I apologize, no one informed me you retired, although it appears you have, at least in your own mind.”
Kronia snorted. “You know as I do that I could trounce any ten soldiers you could muster. My skills are not what they were two hundred seasons ago, but I still have… fangs,” she said, baring her teeth, revealing the gruesome points she’d filed them into many seasons ago.
Torgarr nodded and stroked his bristled ebony beard. “Fair enough. Then you’ll have no problem executing this mission.”
“Out with it then, what trivial matter would you have me address?”
A devious smile touched Torgarr’s lips. “I want you to take Atraxia out into the wild.”
Kronia’s eyes flashed ice, and her weathered face soured. “You’d have Kronia the Butcher on babysitting duty? With the Dawnwalker girl?” She asked in disbelief.
“That’s correct.”
Kronia bit her lip, drawing a rivulet of blood. “You stain my legacy with each passing day, Moonfury,” she growled.
Torgarr’s genial features hardened. “You have done that yourself, Kronia. I have allowed you tremendous latitude, and everyone knows it. Were you anyone other than Kronia the Butcher, I would have shattered their skull for the insubordination and disrespect you’ve shown.”
Kronia’s lower lip trembled with suppressed fury as a crimson haze threatened to flood her vision. “You treat me as a decrepit crone, only fit for menial duty,” she said. “So why this? She is being trained by Kynex, why do you need me?”
Torgarr cleared his throat, and gripped the arms of the chair. “Not that I need to explain my reasoning to anyone, but this time I will. Several reasons, one: Kynex is heading to Archaia Lake with Rhaegon, two: she idolizes you, three: I said so, four: she is special,” he stated.
Kronia crossed her arms and tipped her chair backward, leaning against the wall. “Special? What does that mean? She’s just another Initiate. And a Dawnwalker at that,” she said with a practiced sneer reserved for the Radiant clans.
“I don’t believe that to be true. Her aptitude is well beyond most, even at her young age. She trains obsessively, even more so than my sons. She studied every one of the over five hundred Chronicles written about you. There’s little doubt in my mind she will be Lignum Magnus one day, perhaps even Clan Mother.”
Kronia chewed one of her nails and spat the shard across the room before focusing a frigid glare at Torgarr. “You want me to train my replacement,” she stated. “You think this girl to be the next Kronia.”
Torgarr cocked his head and allowed the statement to linger for a moment before locking eyes. “Yes, Kronia. Just as Sylare and Rhaegon will be my replacements. You and I, the old guard, are on borrowed time. I wish we all aged as slowly as Kynex, but that isn’t reality. You, frankly, are well beyond the age of most, and it’s astounding you remain the warrior of legend so many grew up idolizing. I want our most ferocious combatant to mentor the next generation’s prodigy. Will you help me ensure these Initiates can protect their people?”
Kronia closed her eyes and sighed, realizing he had a point. Her time was almost over. She’d outlasted every one of her contemporaries, most of whom were dead, or too ancient for battle. She stood and walked over to the leather armor hanging on the wall, its spicy ancient aroma a small reminder of the hundreds of battles she’d waged. Running her hand over the gnarled chest plate, she nodded. “Send the girl to the western gates at dawn. I’ll give that child the lesson of a lifetime, pray she can keep up.”
“Thank you, Kronia,” Torgarr said. “This is the nature of children. If we do our jobs correctly, they will grow beyond us all.” He stood and stretched, his own skin leathery and cracked with age. “And please don’t kill her,” he said with a smirk as he departed.
"Well, the least you could do is have Silvion remove this chair,” she called out. “Silvion, get rid of this,” she said, kicking over the chair, then watched as it dissolved into the floor. Refocusing, Kronia traced her fingers over the ragged scars adorning her face, each representing a story for the ages, and a lifetime of primal combat. Her gaze hardened as she stared at the Duskstrider clan sigil on the leather chest plate. My time is ending, she thought. And I haven’t done enough to ensure they can replace me, and that these children can preserve our home and people. A new determination etched across the ancient lines in her face. “That changes now. I will see what this girl is made of.”
The Next Morning - Dawn
Kronia strode down the promenade of Silvion’s path, watching as the forest dissolved the violet bioluminescent mushrooms used for illumination during the night. She’d woken early enough to loosen her stiff joints and muscles, since tedious processes such as warmups were a requirement given her advanced age. She’d be able to rely on elixirs and her Graft, but only up to a point given the side effects of the xyla elixirs and the limited uses of her Graft. She tightened her belt, ensuring both cleavers were secure, and smoothed the coarse fur adorning her scuffed shoulder armor.
She rounded the corner approaching the gate, and came upon a solitary figure standing at attention, as though carved from stone. Atraxia Dawnwalker faced the outer gate, her lithe physique forged of iron, the dawn’s rays bathing her chestnut skin in early morning light. A dark emerald mohawk swept the length of her head, and a pair of twin swords crossed her back. She turned and faced Kronia, the picture of military precision, every inch of ornate leather armor polished to a pristine shine. The Dawnwalker sigil on her chest, a golden sun blazing behind the boughs of a colossal oak, mimicked the reality of the morning sun piercing the mighty semperion oaks overhead. Her emerald eyes widened at Kronia’s approach and her mouth moved wordlessly.
"Kronia, Initiate Dawnwalker reporting for duty,” she said, a quiver at the edge of her voice.
Kronia rolled her eyes, and several barbed scars twitched. “Dispense with the protocol girl, and for the sake of the gods loosen that back before you hurt yourself.”
Atraxia relaxed, her sharp features softening despite the jagged war paint adorning her face. “Yes ma’am,” she said, reaching up to fidget with a solitary jade feather dangling from her ear.
"Let’s get this out of the way, girl. You have read my Chronicles. You of all people should know I do not stand on formality. My name is Kronia Duskstrider. I realize I have ten different titles but just… Kronia.”
Sweat emerged at Atraxia’s brow and she shifted her stance. “I will, Kronia, but may I ask a quick question about why you passed on the title of Ferrum Regina? No one used the Iron Queen title in a hundred seasons…” she began.
"Shut up girl, I passed on many titles because I wanted to remain a soldier, not sit atop the Order of the Iron Branch or the Savage Throne giving orders for others to follow. I wanted to be in the thick of the blood,” she said with a brutish smile, revealing her legendary fangs.
Atraxia blinked and stammered, “Yes, about the fangs, I’m ready to file my own and…”
Kronia cut her off. “First, a rabid little girl who needed to feel special fashioned these fangs, so stop being a clone of me and forge your own way,” she stated. “Before we depart, let me have a look at you.”
Kronia stalked around Atraxia as though surveying her next meal. Despite her doubts, she had to admit this girl possessed an extraordinary physique, every rippling muscle the equal of her own. “First things first. Don’t polish your armor. Ever. The sun’s glare will betray our position to every monstrosity on the continent. Keep your armor dull. Second, who thought up this elixir selection? Who needs eight combat elixirs? Do you not plan to eat? How many wounds can you heal with this set of concoctions? What of lures and traps?”
“I, uh…” Atraxia began.
Kronia lurched to a halt at Atraxia’s left arm, and smirked at the shard of bark implanted on the girl’s upper arm, the wood fused with skin and muscle. “I see you copied my Graft,” she said, flexing her own arm and watching as the muscles contorted and flowed around her own fragment of bark.
“Your strength is legendary, I read about the Siege of Empyris and how you…” she said.
“Did you read any stories other than mine? If you had, you’d realize the value of the other Grafts, particularly the Second Sight. I’ve regretted not having that one many times, would have prevented some of these scars...” Kronia said, tracing the outline of a gruesome scar on her cheek. “In any case, let’s get moving, I’m sure I’ll find much to fix while we’re out.”
“Are we not taking a vaeryx?” Atraxia asked, referring to the immense mutated cats they used for travel.
Kronia laughed. “No, I want to see what kind of condition you’re in, and gauge whether Kynex and Torgarr are doing their jobs properly,” she said, and abruptly sprinted toward the gate, watching as Atraxia charged forward to catch up. At her approach, the oaken trellises and barbed brambles at Silvion’s border evaporated, creating an opening to the Viridian frontier.
They raced outside the gate and sprinted over the hills heading to the west. Kronia pushed the pace, not revealing she’d ingested a tiny droplet of endurance elixir, a combination of the Chloro and Altus xylas, designed to ensure she could run indefinitely. As they passed several hills and circled around a herd of verasaurs, dodged a revarian flock, and avoided hedgestalkers, Kronia slipped a furtive glance over at Atraxia to assess her condition. To Kronia’s surprise, not only was she not fatigued, the girl appeared to be barely exerting herself at all to keep up. Unless she had consumed an elixir, Atraxia’s conditioning was remarkable. Keeping herself to Atraxia’s left side, she tapped into the power of her Graft, fortifying her leg muscles. A surge of energy rippled through her massive thighs, restoring the prime of her youth. She increased her pace, which Atraxia matched, without the use of her own Graft. After running half a day, Kronia pulled up to a halt, signaling Atraxia to stop several paces from Thornbriar Valley. Her lungs afire, Kronia suppressed the desire to huff with exertion, incredulous that even despite the aids she’d used, not a bead of sweat appeared on Atraxia’s brow, as the girl appeared to have only taken a light stroll.
Atraxia stopped and peered into the foreboding woods. “I’ve not been to Thornbriar, are we to visit Reaver Hill?” How many luspina wolves do you think we will see?” she asked, making no effort to hide her excitement.
Facing the opposite direction and gulping mouthfuls of pristine air, Kronia nodded. “One of the most dangerous regions in Viridia, without question. We will see what sort of training Initiates possess these days,” she said, staring into the twisted brush and distorted trees of Thornbriar Valley.
Atraxia shifted her gaze further southwest, watching as the leaves and vines of the Severed Coil writhed and twisted in hypnotic motion. “Can we visit the Coil? I know they forbid it, but you could make an exception…” Atraxia said.
"Never.” Kronia said, shoving a finger in Atraxia’s chest. “Trust me, I’ve been there before, and your blades mean nothing to the Coil.”
"It possesses sentience though, much like Silvion, correct?” Atraxia asked, as a colossal spider comprised entirely of swirling leaves and vines skittered at the edge of the Coil.
"Nothing like Silvion. Its sentience is pure instinct, it cannot respond, nor will it grant requests as Silvion does. All it knows is intrusion and response,” Kronia said, a shiver racing down her back recalling the few times she’d been forced into the Coil. “And I assure you, you want no part of that response, girl.”
Kronia set off toward Thornbriar with Atraxia in tow. The animals they’d passed earlier presented a challenge, but she needed an extreme level of difficulty to test Atraxia, and she knew Thornbriar would oblige. She passed through the brush, careful of the arm length thorns emerging from the brush. Pressing forward, the spined brush thickened, and the compressed canopy stretched skyward, as both Feralians unsheathed their blades and hacked forward into the region.
“Um, are you sure we aren’t making too much noise?” Atraxia asked, her eyes probing the brush ahead.
Kronia glanced back, an icy gleam at the corner of her eye. “Why, yes, we are, my goodness, I wonder if any monstrosities will hear us? Also, let me do the hacking, your blades will dull against the thicket, my cleavers will not.”
Kronia knew the region well, she’d slain hundreds of beasts, humanoids, and even aggressive plants over the seasons. Granted, it had been numerous seasons since she’d visited, and even though Viridia adapted, she was satisfied they’d be able to handle whatever the region produced. As she chopped, her mind drifted to the time she’d beheaded Oriodon, the blasphemous witch doctor and fed his disgusting scalp to a revarion. Or the time she’d decimated a pack of the supposedly immortal luspina wolves. She’d earned one of her ten titles, Fera Archos, the ruler of the wild, after taking down three of the vaunted viganion boars. Despite the threat, she was sure they could handle any of the region’s denizens, except for the carnivorous bitercress plant.
As they plowed ahead, the brush gave way to the Thornbriar interior. Just as Kronia was about to test Atraxia about the origin of the colossal thorns emerging from the ground, a faint snort reached the end of Kronia’s ears. Her eyes narrowed and probed the region, yet the forest stood too thick to penetrate for any distance. “Did you hear that snort?” Kronia asked, thumping Atraxia on the arm.
Atraxia leaned forward and arched an eyebrow. “I did. Viganion boars?” She whispered.
“Correct. I’ve dealt with them in the past, and they are no trifle. However, I want to see what you’re made of, so let’s find it.” Kronia eased forward, gliding her finger over a smooth thorn bulkier than her leg, and after a short while kneeled in the dirt. Disturbed soil, where the boar was no doubt looking for roots. Easing forward, she stopped with a jolt.
"What is it?” Atraxia whispered.
"You tell me, what’s wrong with this print in the soil?”
Atraxia knelt and gasped. “This print is enormous compared to the boar prints I’ve studied.”
"Correct, this specimen is a colossus,” Kronia said, placing her palm in the center, her fingertips nowhere near the border. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think this to be the print of Irontusk the Zealous…,” she said, referencing the Viridian boar titan associated with Ferocia, the goddess of the Verdant Moon.
Atraxia’s eyes widened. "No one living has ever seen it. Kynex saw Moraghul the Leviathan long ago, but appearances by the titans are exceedingly rare.”
A sly smile edged at the corner of Kronia’s lips, and she flicked her tongue over the sharp edges of her fangs. “Even if this isn’t a titan, it is by several orders of magnitude the largest boar I’ve ever seen. Let’s move.”
They skirted through the forest tracking the monstrosity, following the telltale signs it left in its wake. Judging from the ravaged brush and tracks, this was the largest boar ever recorded. Perhaps she underestimated the speed of Viridia’s evolution…
"There!” Atraxia said.
Kronia peered from behind a tree, and her jaw dropped. She’d seen drawings of the original wild boars before Viridia’s accelerated evolution, and they rarely stood past her waist. The boars she fought before were larger and more feral, but nothing like this. The behemoth stood well past her own height, sporting colossal tusks entangled with thorns and vines, each as long as her own body. Petrified wood covered the length of its back, with moss chunks growing throughout, acting as earthen armor. The monstrosity snorted and shoved its drizzling snout back into the water, slurping giant gulps from the watering hole. Kronia’s mind raced, analyzing the situation. Attacking was a risk, as this monster could break either of them in one strike, so any mistake would be fatal. On the other hand, she longed for the rush of mortal combat, and the thundering blood surging through her veins, a feeling they deprived her for too long, to say nothing of witnessing what fury the girl could bring to bear.
As she debated the merits of attacking, the issue resolved for her. A squeal emanated from behind, and Kronia spun, whipping her blades free. Another boar, every bit the equal of the first, pawed the ground, its giant hoof sending waves through the soil. She glanced over and Atraxia shrugged.
"Well, you wanted to see what I was made of, I suppose it is time to find out.,” she said, unsheathing her swords.
At that, the boar squealed, the high-pitched racket alerting the second. Churning dirt and soil, it barreled toward the Feralians. A crooked smile crossed Kronia’s face as she girded herself for battle. As the boar plowed forward, both Feralians cast themselves to the side, dodging the mammoth beast. The boar skidded to a halt next to the first, and both animals charged again, spraying dirt and mud against the tree line. One diverted toward Kronia, and she went low, rolling to the side. As she hit the ground, she fired her Graft, causing the shard of bark to erupt into an emerald flame. Halting her roll with a thigh made of steel, she swept both cleavers low, her infused musculature powering the swords through the legs of the titanic beast, severing them as though made of thread. A geyser of blood erupted from the hacked stumps, and the beast skidded through the dirt, thrashing and squealing. Kronia flipped backward, her prodigious strength propelling her over the beast, and upon landing, buried her cleavers in the monster’s throat. As her blood thundered and a killing haze settled in, she glanced up to find Atraxia in trouble. Her swords couldn’t penetrate the hide, and the girl had shattered one of her blades. Kronia almost laughed at the obvious rookie maneuver.
“Go for the belly, girl,” Kronia screamed. For a moment she considered helping, but then shook her head, dispelling the primordial need for conquest. This was the girl’s problem, so she propped against a tree and observed. She watched Atraxia dodge and twist, avoiding certain death with every movement. Kronia raised an eyebrow as Atraxia ducked to the left under a tusk swipe and buried her sword into the boar’s belly before vaulting over the beast and landing behind with a smooth thump on the forest floor. Amazingly, she was showing incredible restraint at not using her Graft, as though an attempt to impress Kronia with her skill.
A crooked grin crossed Kronia’s marred visage, and she clapped her hands. In retrospect, she wished she’d prolonged her own fight. Her grin vanished as another snort sounded from behind, and then another. The forest exploded in shards of wood and thorn as six more of the titanic boars crashed through on an intercept course. Kronia’s jaw dropped, and the hesitation cost her. She fired her graft and pulled her cleavers, but it was too late. As the Graft hardened her body, the lead boar crashed into her chest, sending a sickening crunch across the glade, flinging her into a mud hole. Kronia’s breath stuck, realizing every bone in her chest shattered before the Graft took hold. The blazing inferno fortified her body as she surged to her feet, knowing only moments remained before her crushed body failed. She rolled forward and slashed, her blades shredding through the throat and spine, spraying a torrent of gore across nearby thorns. As the bones in her chest disintegrated, she called out with the last of her breath.
“Atraxia, take these,” she screamed, and hurled her cleavers in Atraxia’s general direction. The girl planted her foot on a charging beast, and leapt skyward, catching the blades and emerging in a roll. With that, Kronia collapsed into the mud, her breath escaping in ragged gasps. A dirty haze of soil and blood enveloped her vision as she struggled to watch her failure play out. The girl had no chance against six of the titans, and Kronia grimaced, realizing she’d cost her people not only an existing warrior, but a bright future one.
Yet, she’d given up on Atraxia too soon.
Atraxia slid east, diverting the boars from Kronia’s prone form. Kronia watched as the girl dodged one, two, then three boars in rapid succession. Atraxia dropped a cleaver and wrenched a gray elixir from her belt and ingested the swirling xyla compound. Powered by her own skill, a flaming graft, and now the elixir, Atraxia bared her teeth and stalked forward. Boars charged and Atraxia deflected them as one might swat a fly. One animal charged in, and Atraxia slid to the side, and unleashed a kick that vaporized its skull. Atraxia surged forward, sliding under another set of tusks and eviscerating the beast, sending its bowels cascading over the forest floor. She pivoted and split the back armor of another, severing the spine. Now the unbreakable fusion of warrior and blades, Atraxia slashed upward, shredding through jawbone and brain, showering the area in chunks of brain and skull. Through Kronia’s fading vision, she watched as a boar charged toward her, preparing to trample her broken body. As the beast stampeded forward, she closed her eyes and prepared to meet the gods. At the last moment, an incredulous squeal sounded, causing Kronia to glance upward through her ragged vision.
Atraxia stood covered in blood, her graft roaring with an emerald flame, holding the beast by its tusk only a hairsbreadth from Kronia’s face. Atraxia bellowed a feral roar and grabbed both tusks with an iron grip. As the beast struggled against her pulsing veins and flexing muscles, she wrenched, ripping the beast’s head in two, spraying torrents of blood across the forest floor. As Atraxia refocused to finish the fight, Kronia disappeared into a black abyss.
Kronia awoke later to a gentle bobbing motion. Her eyes cracked open to see thick grass rushing past and heard ragged gasps for air. She groaned, realizing she still lived, and that she was being carried home on Atraxia’s back. Glancing down, she realized sweat poured from Atraxia, likely from the beginning stages of elixir sickness coupled with the day's exertion. Kronia coughed and spat blood onto a mound of grass.
"Stop,” she croaked.
Atraxia came to a halt, and leaned Kronia against the withered stump of a nearby oak before collapsing onto a bed of thick grass, heaving deep breaths.
Soaked in blood with her vibrant hair matted to her head, her eyes flitted over to Kronia. “You’ll live,” Atraxia said through labored breathing. “I administered elixir, though the damage was significant…”
Kronia hadn’t shed a tear in dozens of seasons, but the embarrassment of being saved and carted home by an Initiate was almost too much to bear. “I’m sorry… I,” she stammered.
Atraxia shook her head and flicked away a chunk of gore lodged behind her ear. “Kronia, we are sisters in battle, I am sure it will be you that will save my life at some point.”
"My reactions, hearing, agility, and even power are not what they once were…” she said, clenching her eyes shut. Before Atraxia could respond, she opened her eyes and locked them onto Atraxia. “But yours are. You are everything Torgarr claimed, and more. Everything I was in the past, you are in the present. And that’s why I’m giving you those,” she said, nodding toward her dual cleavers that now resided at Atraxia’s waist.
Atraxia’s eyes flickered, and she averted her gaze, stroking the handles of the legendary weapons. “No, these are yours, you have many seasons left…”
Kronia blew out a labored breath. “No, I do not. I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ll not have my feelings or ego stroked. This day has been coming for some time, yet I have been too stubborn to acknowledge it. They gave me the only miriconite weapons our people possess, because other than Kynex, who already had the Witchbreaker, I was the best. That is no longer true. My chapter is at an end, and I would see them pass to someone worthy.” Atraxia shook her head, but Kronia cut her off. “And I will hear no dispute in the matter, girl.”
Atraxia stroked the blade of the left cleaver. “Thank you, Kronia,” she whispered.
"Do not get emotional now, girl. I’ve set a lofty standard with those blades, and I expect you to draw oceans of blood. Is that clear?”
"Yes, Kronia… it will be done.”
Kronia turned her gaze, trying to hide a solitary tear emerging at the corner of her eye. A legacy in ruin, sure to be the talk of the grove for some time. Despite Atraxia’s obvious talent, the old warrior carried out by an Initiate would be a laughingstock for the remained of her life. As these scenarios played out through her mind, the girl spoke.
Atraxia stared over the horizon. “No one will ever know of this, Kronia,” she said, as though reading Kronia’s thoughts. “We will stay out until the elixir finishes mending, and you can walk in on your own. We will come up with another excuse as to why I have your blades.”
Kronia blinked and her lower lip quivered. “What? Why?”
Atraxia, still not meeting her gaze, wiped the edge of her new blade on the grass. “Because your legend is more important to our people than me slaying pigs. You are an icon and an inspiration, and I’ll not sully that by hauling you in over my shoulder.”
Kronia choked, but managed a raspy, “Thank you…”
Atraxia locked eyes with Kronia and smiled. “There would be no Atraxia without Kronia. Your legend will live on to inspire others, and I will do my utmost to carry it forward into a new generation. Now, let us rest… old woman.”
The End.
Atraxia will return in The Witchbreaker Saga, coming soon.
Age of Awakening - Season Cycle 7554
Primus: her first blade. The cleaver that flayed the greasy scalp of Oriodon the Foul. An arm-long edge of unending sharpness, capable of hewing stone. No single blade in Feralian history bore responsibility for more death, save the second.
Altus: her second blade. The cleaver that brought forth a torrent of putrid blood from the throat of Mercilla the Vile. Due to material shortage, Altus was a pebble of weight lighter than Primus, and one fingertip shorter, yet no less deadly, the imbalance of the blades brought into symmetry from centuries of perfected barbarism.
A combined ocean of blood, innumerable deaths, and countless legends between them, yet only one was their master, resulting in a title earned through merciless decimation.
The Butcher.
Consumed by memories of chronicles past, Kronia Duskstrider’s cobalt eyes wrenched from her twin blades at the knock sounding outside her home. She shifted in her chair; the action causing a decrepit creak which she wasn’t sure emanated from the wood, or her ancient joints. Pressing to her feet, she staggered across the room and threw open the door, revealing the warmaster, Torgarr Moonfury, Lignum Magnus of the Feralian elves.
“For god’s sake, Kronia, put on your armor, you’re late again,” he said, his crimson and emerald chromatic eyes raking over her wrinkled frame, only covered by a faded violet robe.
Despite her advanced age, iron muscles rippled and jagged scars contorted as she tied her robe. “I need no fashion advice in my own home, Moonfury,” she said, placing a drop of venom on his name. “The only one I gave that honor to is long since gone, so if I care to flounce around nude I will do as I please.”
Torgarr raised a crooked eyebrow as he stepped inside, his immense physique brushing against the frame, while a candle cast a burnished hue over his hazel skin. He scanned the home, a dilapidated mess of grimy pelts, tattered clothes, and cracked wood. With one exception: the pair of twin war cleavers leaning against the wall maintained a polished shimmer along their edges. He leaned against the wall, gripping the hilt of his own blade, the legendary crescent sword known as Mooncleaver. “Silvion, a malacha if you please,” he said, addressing the sentient forest that grew not only their fruit, but the home in which they stood. In response, a nascent bloom emerged from a crack in the wall, and sprouted a delectable crimson fruit. He plucked the ripened specimen, and the branch receded into the wall.
“I have a mission for you, Kronia,” he stated, chomping into the fruit. “Silvion, a seat please.” At the request, gnarled timber emerged from the floor, spiraling upward and coalescing into an ornate chair which Torgarr took without invitation.
"Oh yes, just have a seat, I don’t mind,” Kronia said, sweeping back her shorn ashen hair before taking a seat herself. She crossed her legs, revealing the charred scars covering her alabaster skin. “You stopped sending me on real missions long ago, what is the problem now, is a vaeryx cub stuck up a tree?” She asked, her eyes flicking over to the twin cleavers leaning against the corner.
A slight grin emerged at the corner of Torgarr’s lips. Finishing the malacha, he tossed the core over his shoulder, and upon striking the side wall, the core dissipated, reconstituted into the wood. “I apologize, no one informed me you retired, although it appears you have, at least in your own mind.”
Kronia snorted. “You know as I do that I could trounce any ten soldiers you could muster. My skills are not what they were two hundred seasons ago, but I still have… fangs,” she said, baring her teeth, revealing the gruesome points she’d filed them into many seasons ago.
Torgarr nodded and stroked his bristled ebony beard. “Fair enough. Then you’ll have no problem executing this mission.”
“Out with it then, what trivial matter would you have me address?”
A devious smile touched Torgarr’s lips. “I want you to take Atraxia out into the wild.”
Kronia’s eyes flashed ice, and her weathered face soured. “You’d have Kronia the Butcher on babysitting duty? With the Dawnwalker girl?” She asked in disbelief.
“That’s correct.”
Kronia bit her lip, drawing a rivulet of blood. “You stain my legacy with each passing day, Moonfury,” she growled.
Torgarr’s genial features hardened. “You have done that yourself, Kronia. I have allowed you tremendous latitude, and everyone knows it. Were you anyone other than Kronia the Butcher, I would have shattered their skull for the insubordination and disrespect you’ve shown.”
Kronia’s lower lip trembled with suppressed fury as a crimson haze threatened to flood her vision. “You treat me as a decrepit crone, only fit for menial duty,” she said. “So why this? She is being trained by Kynex, why do you need me?”
Torgarr cleared his throat, and gripped the arms of the chair. “Not that I need to explain my reasoning to anyone, but this time I will. Several reasons, one: Kynex is heading to Archaia Lake with Rhaegon, two: she idolizes you, three: I said so, four: she is special,” he stated.
Kronia crossed her arms and tipped her chair backward, leaning against the wall. “Special? What does that mean? She’s just another Initiate. And a Dawnwalker at that,” she said with a practiced sneer reserved for the Radiant clans.
“I don’t believe that to be true. Her aptitude is well beyond most, even at her young age. She trains obsessively, even more so than my sons. She studied every one of the over five hundred Chronicles written about you. There’s little doubt in my mind she will be Lignum Magnus one day, perhaps even Clan Mother.”
Kronia chewed one of her nails and spat the shard across the room before focusing a frigid glare at Torgarr. “You want me to train my replacement,” she stated. “You think this girl to be the next Kronia.”
Torgarr cocked his head and allowed the statement to linger for a moment before locking eyes. “Yes, Kronia. Just as Sylare and Rhaegon will be my replacements. You and I, the old guard, are on borrowed time. I wish we all aged as slowly as Kynex, but that isn’t reality. You, frankly, are well beyond the age of most, and it’s astounding you remain the warrior of legend so many grew up idolizing. I want our most ferocious combatant to mentor the next generation’s prodigy. Will you help me ensure these Initiates can protect their people?”
Kronia closed her eyes and sighed, realizing he had a point. Her time was almost over. She’d outlasted every one of her contemporaries, most of whom were dead, or too ancient for battle. She stood and walked over to the leather armor hanging on the wall, its spicy ancient aroma a small reminder of the hundreds of battles she’d waged. Running her hand over the gnarled chest plate, she nodded. “Send the girl to the western gates at dawn. I’ll give that child the lesson of a lifetime, pray she can keep up.”
“Thank you, Kronia,” Torgarr said. “This is the nature of children. If we do our jobs correctly, they will grow beyond us all.” He stood and stretched, his own skin leathery and cracked with age. “And please don’t kill her,” he said with a smirk as he departed.
"Well, the least you could do is have Silvion remove this chair,” she called out. “Silvion, get rid of this,” she said, kicking over the chair, then watched as it dissolved into the floor. Refocusing, Kronia traced her fingers over the ragged scars adorning her face, each representing a story for the ages, and a lifetime of primal combat. Her gaze hardened as she stared at the Duskstrider clan sigil on the leather chest plate. My time is ending, she thought. And I haven’t done enough to ensure they can replace me, and that these children can preserve our home and people. A new determination etched across the ancient lines in her face. “That changes now. I will see what this girl is made of.”
The Next Morning - Dawn
Kronia strode down the promenade of Silvion’s path, watching as the forest dissolved the violet bioluminescent mushrooms used for illumination during the night. She’d woken early enough to loosen her stiff joints and muscles, since tedious processes such as warmups were a requirement given her advanced age. She’d be able to rely on elixirs and her Graft, but only up to a point given the side effects of the xyla elixirs and the limited uses of her Graft. She tightened her belt, ensuring both cleavers were secure, and smoothed the coarse fur adorning her scuffed shoulder armor.
She rounded the corner approaching the gate, and came upon a solitary figure standing at attention, as though carved from stone. Atraxia Dawnwalker faced the outer gate, her lithe physique forged of iron, the dawn’s rays bathing her chestnut skin in early morning light. A dark emerald mohawk swept the length of her head, and a pair of twin swords crossed her back. She turned and faced Kronia, the picture of military precision, every inch of ornate leather armor polished to a pristine shine. The Dawnwalker sigil on her chest, a golden sun blazing behind the boughs of a colossal oak, mimicked the reality of the morning sun piercing the mighty semperion oaks overhead. Her emerald eyes widened at Kronia’s approach and her mouth moved wordlessly.
"Kronia, Initiate Dawnwalker reporting for duty,” she said, a quiver at the edge of her voice.
Kronia rolled her eyes, and several barbed scars twitched. “Dispense with the protocol girl, and for the sake of the gods loosen that back before you hurt yourself.”
Atraxia relaxed, her sharp features softening despite the jagged war paint adorning her face. “Yes ma’am,” she said, reaching up to fidget with a solitary jade feather dangling from her ear.
"Let’s get this out of the way, girl. You have read my Chronicles. You of all people should know I do not stand on formality. My name is Kronia Duskstrider. I realize I have ten different titles but just… Kronia.”
Sweat emerged at Atraxia’s brow and she shifted her stance. “I will, Kronia, but may I ask a quick question about why you passed on the title of Ferrum Regina? No one used the Iron Queen title in a hundred seasons…” she began.
"Shut up girl, I passed on many titles because I wanted to remain a soldier, not sit atop the Order of the Iron Branch or the Savage Throne giving orders for others to follow. I wanted to be in the thick of the blood,” she said with a brutish smile, revealing her legendary fangs.
Atraxia blinked and stammered, “Yes, about the fangs, I’m ready to file my own and…”
Kronia cut her off. “First, a rabid little girl who needed to feel special fashioned these fangs, so stop being a clone of me and forge your own way,” she stated. “Before we depart, let me have a look at you.”
Kronia stalked around Atraxia as though surveying her next meal. Despite her doubts, she had to admit this girl possessed an extraordinary physique, every rippling muscle the equal of her own. “First things first. Don’t polish your armor. Ever. The sun’s glare will betray our position to every monstrosity on the continent. Keep your armor dull. Second, who thought up this elixir selection? Who needs eight combat elixirs? Do you not plan to eat? How many wounds can you heal with this set of concoctions? What of lures and traps?”
“I, uh…” Atraxia began.
Kronia lurched to a halt at Atraxia’s left arm, and smirked at the shard of bark implanted on the girl’s upper arm, the wood fused with skin and muscle. “I see you copied my Graft,” she said, flexing her own arm and watching as the muscles contorted and flowed around her own fragment of bark.
“Your strength is legendary, I read about the Siege of Empyris and how you…” she said.
“Did you read any stories other than mine? If you had, you’d realize the value of the other Grafts, particularly the Second Sight. I’ve regretted not having that one many times, would have prevented some of these scars...” Kronia said, tracing the outline of a gruesome scar on her cheek. “In any case, let’s get moving, I’m sure I’ll find much to fix while we’re out.”
“Are we not taking a vaeryx?” Atraxia asked, referring to the immense mutated cats they used for travel.
Kronia laughed. “No, I want to see what kind of condition you’re in, and gauge whether Kynex and Torgarr are doing their jobs properly,” she said, and abruptly sprinted toward the gate, watching as Atraxia charged forward to catch up. At her approach, the oaken trellises and barbed brambles at Silvion’s border evaporated, creating an opening to the Viridian frontier.
They raced outside the gate and sprinted over the hills heading to the west. Kronia pushed the pace, not revealing she’d ingested a tiny droplet of endurance elixir, a combination of the Chloro and Altus xylas, designed to ensure she could run indefinitely. As they passed several hills and circled around a herd of verasaurs, dodged a revarian flock, and avoided hedgestalkers, Kronia slipped a furtive glance over at Atraxia to assess her condition. To Kronia’s surprise, not only was she not fatigued, the girl appeared to be barely exerting herself at all to keep up. Unless she had consumed an elixir, Atraxia’s conditioning was remarkable. Keeping herself to Atraxia’s left side, she tapped into the power of her Graft, fortifying her leg muscles. A surge of energy rippled through her massive thighs, restoring the prime of her youth. She increased her pace, which Atraxia matched, without the use of her own Graft. After running half a day, Kronia pulled up to a halt, signaling Atraxia to stop several paces from Thornbriar Valley. Her lungs afire, Kronia suppressed the desire to huff with exertion, incredulous that even despite the aids she’d used, not a bead of sweat appeared on Atraxia’s brow, as the girl appeared to have only taken a light stroll.
Atraxia stopped and peered into the foreboding woods. “I’ve not been to Thornbriar, are we to visit Reaver Hill?” How many luspina wolves do you think we will see?” she asked, making no effort to hide her excitement.
Facing the opposite direction and gulping mouthfuls of pristine air, Kronia nodded. “One of the most dangerous regions in Viridia, without question. We will see what sort of training Initiates possess these days,” she said, staring into the twisted brush and distorted trees of Thornbriar Valley.
Atraxia shifted her gaze further southwest, watching as the leaves and vines of the Severed Coil writhed and twisted in hypnotic motion. “Can we visit the Coil? I know they forbid it, but you could make an exception…” Atraxia said.
"Never.” Kronia said, shoving a finger in Atraxia’s chest. “Trust me, I’ve been there before, and your blades mean nothing to the Coil.”
"It possesses sentience though, much like Silvion, correct?” Atraxia asked, as a colossal spider comprised entirely of swirling leaves and vines skittered at the edge of the Coil.
"Nothing like Silvion. Its sentience is pure instinct, it cannot respond, nor will it grant requests as Silvion does. All it knows is intrusion and response,” Kronia said, a shiver racing down her back recalling the few times she’d been forced into the Coil. “And I assure you, you want no part of that response, girl.”
Kronia set off toward Thornbriar with Atraxia in tow. The animals they’d passed earlier presented a challenge, but she needed an extreme level of difficulty to test Atraxia, and she knew Thornbriar would oblige. She passed through the brush, careful of the arm length thorns emerging from the brush. Pressing forward, the spined brush thickened, and the compressed canopy stretched skyward, as both Feralians unsheathed their blades and hacked forward into the region.
“Um, are you sure we aren’t making too much noise?” Atraxia asked, her eyes probing the brush ahead.
Kronia glanced back, an icy gleam at the corner of her eye. “Why, yes, we are, my goodness, I wonder if any monstrosities will hear us? Also, let me do the hacking, your blades will dull against the thicket, my cleavers will not.”
Kronia knew the region well, she’d slain hundreds of beasts, humanoids, and even aggressive plants over the seasons. Granted, it had been numerous seasons since she’d visited, and even though Viridia adapted, she was satisfied they’d be able to handle whatever the region produced. As she chopped, her mind drifted to the time she’d beheaded Oriodon, the blasphemous witch doctor and fed his disgusting scalp to a revarion. Or the time she’d decimated a pack of the supposedly immortal luspina wolves. She’d earned one of her ten titles, Fera Archos, the ruler of the wild, after taking down three of the vaunted viganion boars. Despite the threat, she was sure they could handle any of the region’s denizens, except for the carnivorous bitercress plant.
As they plowed ahead, the brush gave way to the Thornbriar interior. Just as Kronia was about to test Atraxia about the origin of the colossal thorns emerging from the ground, a faint snort reached the end of Kronia’s ears. Her eyes narrowed and probed the region, yet the forest stood too thick to penetrate for any distance. “Did you hear that snort?” Kronia asked, thumping Atraxia on the arm.
Atraxia leaned forward and arched an eyebrow. “I did. Viganion boars?” She whispered.
“Correct. I’ve dealt with them in the past, and they are no trifle. However, I want to see what you’re made of, so let’s find it.” Kronia eased forward, gliding her finger over a smooth thorn bulkier than her leg, and after a short while kneeled in the dirt. Disturbed soil, where the boar was no doubt looking for roots. Easing forward, she stopped with a jolt.
"What is it?” Atraxia whispered.
"You tell me, what’s wrong with this print in the soil?”
Atraxia knelt and gasped. “This print is enormous compared to the boar prints I’ve studied.”
"Correct, this specimen is a colossus,” Kronia said, placing her palm in the center, her fingertips nowhere near the border. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think this to be the print of Irontusk the Zealous…,” she said, referencing the Viridian boar titan associated with Ferocia, the goddess of the Verdant Moon.
Atraxia’s eyes widened. "No one living has ever seen it. Kynex saw Moraghul the Leviathan long ago, but appearances by the titans are exceedingly rare.”
A sly smile edged at the corner of Kronia’s lips, and she flicked her tongue over the sharp edges of her fangs. “Even if this isn’t a titan, it is by several orders of magnitude the largest boar I’ve ever seen. Let’s move.”
They skirted through the forest tracking the monstrosity, following the telltale signs it left in its wake. Judging from the ravaged brush and tracks, this was the largest boar ever recorded. Perhaps she underestimated the speed of Viridia’s evolution…
"There!” Atraxia said.
Kronia peered from behind a tree, and her jaw dropped. She’d seen drawings of the original wild boars before Viridia’s accelerated evolution, and they rarely stood past her waist. The boars she fought before were larger and more feral, but nothing like this. The behemoth stood well past her own height, sporting colossal tusks entangled with thorns and vines, each as long as her own body. Petrified wood covered the length of its back, with moss chunks growing throughout, acting as earthen armor. The monstrosity snorted and shoved its drizzling snout back into the water, slurping giant gulps from the watering hole. Kronia’s mind raced, analyzing the situation. Attacking was a risk, as this monster could break either of them in one strike, so any mistake would be fatal. On the other hand, she longed for the rush of mortal combat, and the thundering blood surging through her veins, a feeling they deprived her for too long, to say nothing of witnessing what fury the girl could bring to bear.
As she debated the merits of attacking, the issue resolved for her. A squeal emanated from behind, and Kronia spun, whipping her blades free. Another boar, every bit the equal of the first, pawed the ground, its giant hoof sending waves through the soil. She glanced over and Atraxia shrugged.
"Well, you wanted to see what I was made of, I suppose it is time to find out.,” she said, unsheathing her swords.
At that, the boar squealed, the high-pitched racket alerting the second. Churning dirt and soil, it barreled toward the Feralians. A crooked smile crossed Kronia’s face as she girded herself for battle. As the boar plowed forward, both Feralians cast themselves to the side, dodging the mammoth beast. The boar skidded to a halt next to the first, and both animals charged again, spraying dirt and mud against the tree line. One diverted toward Kronia, and she went low, rolling to the side. As she hit the ground, she fired her Graft, causing the shard of bark to erupt into an emerald flame. Halting her roll with a thigh made of steel, she swept both cleavers low, her infused musculature powering the swords through the legs of the titanic beast, severing them as though made of thread. A geyser of blood erupted from the hacked stumps, and the beast skidded through the dirt, thrashing and squealing. Kronia flipped backward, her prodigious strength propelling her over the beast, and upon landing, buried her cleavers in the monster’s throat. As her blood thundered and a killing haze settled in, she glanced up to find Atraxia in trouble. Her swords couldn’t penetrate the hide, and the girl had shattered one of her blades. Kronia almost laughed at the obvious rookie maneuver.
“Go for the belly, girl,” Kronia screamed. For a moment she considered helping, but then shook her head, dispelling the primordial need for conquest. This was the girl’s problem, so she propped against a tree and observed. She watched Atraxia dodge and twist, avoiding certain death with every movement. Kronia raised an eyebrow as Atraxia ducked to the left under a tusk swipe and buried her sword into the boar’s belly before vaulting over the beast and landing behind with a smooth thump on the forest floor. Amazingly, she was showing incredible restraint at not using her Graft, as though an attempt to impress Kronia with her skill.
A crooked grin crossed Kronia’s marred visage, and she clapped her hands. In retrospect, she wished she’d prolonged her own fight. Her grin vanished as another snort sounded from behind, and then another. The forest exploded in shards of wood and thorn as six more of the titanic boars crashed through on an intercept course. Kronia’s jaw dropped, and the hesitation cost her. She fired her graft and pulled her cleavers, but it was too late. As the Graft hardened her body, the lead boar crashed into her chest, sending a sickening crunch across the glade, flinging her into a mud hole. Kronia’s breath stuck, realizing every bone in her chest shattered before the Graft took hold. The blazing inferno fortified her body as she surged to her feet, knowing only moments remained before her crushed body failed. She rolled forward and slashed, her blades shredding through the throat and spine, spraying a torrent of gore across nearby thorns. As the bones in her chest disintegrated, she called out with the last of her breath.
“Atraxia, take these,” she screamed, and hurled her cleavers in Atraxia’s general direction. The girl planted her foot on a charging beast, and leapt skyward, catching the blades and emerging in a roll. With that, Kronia collapsed into the mud, her breath escaping in ragged gasps. A dirty haze of soil and blood enveloped her vision as she struggled to watch her failure play out. The girl had no chance against six of the titans, and Kronia grimaced, realizing she’d cost her people not only an existing warrior, but a bright future one.
Yet, she’d given up on Atraxia too soon.
Atraxia slid east, diverting the boars from Kronia’s prone form. Kronia watched as the girl dodged one, two, then three boars in rapid succession. Atraxia dropped a cleaver and wrenched a gray elixir from her belt and ingested the swirling xyla compound. Powered by her own skill, a flaming graft, and now the elixir, Atraxia bared her teeth and stalked forward. Boars charged and Atraxia deflected them as one might swat a fly. One animal charged in, and Atraxia slid to the side, and unleashed a kick that vaporized its skull. Atraxia surged forward, sliding under another set of tusks and eviscerating the beast, sending its bowels cascading over the forest floor. She pivoted and split the back armor of another, severing the spine. Now the unbreakable fusion of warrior and blades, Atraxia slashed upward, shredding through jawbone and brain, showering the area in chunks of brain and skull. Through Kronia’s fading vision, she watched as a boar charged toward her, preparing to trample her broken body. As the beast stampeded forward, she closed her eyes and prepared to meet the gods. At the last moment, an incredulous squeal sounded, causing Kronia to glance upward through her ragged vision.
Atraxia stood covered in blood, her graft roaring with an emerald flame, holding the beast by its tusk only a hairsbreadth from Kronia’s face. Atraxia bellowed a feral roar and grabbed both tusks with an iron grip. As the beast struggled against her pulsing veins and flexing muscles, she wrenched, ripping the beast’s head in two, spraying torrents of blood across the forest floor. As Atraxia refocused to finish the fight, Kronia disappeared into a black abyss.
Kronia awoke later to a gentle bobbing motion. Her eyes cracked open to see thick grass rushing past and heard ragged gasps for air. She groaned, realizing she still lived, and that she was being carried home on Atraxia’s back. Glancing down, she realized sweat poured from Atraxia, likely from the beginning stages of elixir sickness coupled with the day's exertion. Kronia coughed and spat blood onto a mound of grass.
"Stop,” she croaked.
Atraxia came to a halt, and leaned Kronia against the withered stump of a nearby oak before collapsing onto a bed of thick grass, heaving deep breaths.
Soaked in blood with her vibrant hair matted to her head, her eyes flitted over to Kronia. “You’ll live,” Atraxia said through labored breathing. “I administered elixir, though the damage was significant…”
Kronia hadn’t shed a tear in dozens of seasons, but the embarrassment of being saved and carted home by an Initiate was almost too much to bear. “I’m sorry… I,” she stammered.
Atraxia shook her head and flicked away a chunk of gore lodged behind her ear. “Kronia, we are sisters in battle, I am sure it will be you that will save my life at some point.”
"My reactions, hearing, agility, and even power are not what they once were…” she said, clenching her eyes shut. Before Atraxia could respond, she opened her eyes and locked them onto Atraxia. “But yours are. You are everything Torgarr claimed, and more. Everything I was in the past, you are in the present. And that’s why I’m giving you those,” she said, nodding toward her dual cleavers that now resided at Atraxia’s waist.
Atraxia’s eyes flickered, and she averted her gaze, stroking the handles of the legendary weapons. “No, these are yours, you have many seasons left…”
Kronia blew out a labored breath. “No, I do not. I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ll not have my feelings or ego stroked. This day has been coming for some time, yet I have been too stubborn to acknowledge it. They gave me the only miriconite weapons our people possess, because other than Kynex, who already had the Witchbreaker, I was the best. That is no longer true. My chapter is at an end, and I would see them pass to someone worthy.” Atraxia shook her head, but Kronia cut her off. “And I will hear no dispute in the matter, girl.”
Atraxia stroked the blade of the left cleaver. “Thank you, Kronia,” she whispered.
"Do not get emotional now, girl. I’ve set a lofty standard with those blades, and I expect you to draw oceans of blood. Is that clear?”
"Yes, Kronia… it will be done.”
Kronia turned her gaze, trying to hide a solitary tear emerging at the corner of her eye. A legacy in ruin, sure to be the talk of the grove for some time. Despite Atraxia’s obvious talent, the old warrior carried out by an Initiate would be a laughingstock for the remained of her life. As these scenarios played out through her mind, the girl spoke.
Atraxia stared over the horizon. “No one will ever know of this, Kronia,” she said, as though reading Kronia’s thoughts. “We will stay out until the elixir finishes mending, and you can walk in on your own. We will come up with another excuse as to why I have your blades.”
Kronia blinked and her lower lip quivered. “What? Why?”
Atraxia, still not meeting her gaze, wiped the edge of her new blade on the grass. “Because your legend is more important to our people than me slaying pigs. You are an icon and an inspiration, and I’ll not sully that by hauling you in over my shoulder.”
Kronia choked, but managed a raspy, “Thank you…”
Atraxia locked eyes with Kronia and smiled. “There would be no Atraxia without Kronia. Your legend will live on to inspire others, and I will do my utmost to carry it forward into a new generation. Now, let us rest… old woman.”
The End.
Atraxia will return in The Witchbreaker Saga, coming soon.