The weather is the harshest today. Outside, the alleyways and roads have been converted into marshlands. The rain is unyielding, and robs the sky of it's color.
But in the barracks it's soothing. I listen to the rhythm, from its fall from the ashen gray sky to the first seconds before the ground absorbs it.
Today I can't find the strength to stand.
"What is your name?" Kjorn asks.
I don't speak. I don't think it matters.
There is streaks of mud on the ground where she walks, it climbs her boots and settles on her ankles.
"What sect are you from?"
She is rash today, the questions pile from her mouth, one after the other. Behind her iron clad mask, her deep set eyes seem to hold a hint of madness.
She's in front of me now. "Your a tough one to crack, aren't you?"
It's starting again. I make sure to clench my teeth shut, and keep my tongue on the roof of my mouth. These are the worst moments, the seconds before it happens, the seconds I count before it's comes.
She walks back, and there's a couple feet of distance between us.
"Hildegard."
The woman who enters the room is tall, thin, and ancient judging by her old shriveled face. She wears a cloak, black as night and she has tattoos of writing on her temple. Her eyes are a honeyed green, similar to Kjorn's.
"Are you sure you want to stay General? The cover will help, but you know what they say, the scribes, once they see you, their bad luck will always find you."
She taps her mask. "I stopped listening to those tales when I was a child Hildegard. This is all I need."
The old woman nods, and begins her way to me. In a ring, she starts forming different shapes and lines. After the circle is finished, she flexes her fingers wide and grasps the ends of my face.
I try to pull away but the chanting starts.
It isn't long before my bones began to bleed with pain, and my mouth foams. There's something roaming my skin, piercing into my flesh and fighting to come out. It's inside of me.
"Enough Hildegard."
I slack to the ground, and the rope burns my wrists.
She is standing in front of me again. "What is your name?"
My throat is charred. "Lian Kenzo, My name is Lian."
She throws a side glance at the old woman.
"Again."
"Please—I swear to you! I'm not a Gilden, I swear!"
The old woman's face breaks, and she jerks her head to Kjorn. For a split second, her concern feels like it's worth something. It's not.
I want to badly to be in bed, I want to go back to when nothing was wrong. When I could close my door and nothing existed outside of my four walls.
"Again," she says impatiently.