Journal Entry
Date: 03/02/7500
Author Name: Blake Justinian Margrave
I write this now with my hand and wrist bruised. A Cavlar scout and me had a little one on one fight.
What we had thought was a simple fight with some poachers had escalated quickly.
I had called Rayland, my brother, in front of everyone. It was a mistake. When we arrive home, father will hear of it and might do nothing of it. But my brother would press the issue.
I was supposed to stay with Venula, a Knights Ranger, and protect our three snipers. And instead I chased after a Cavlar man. Securing a hostage and proof that House Cavlar was coming to our world and stealing and poaching from us.
But my brother is more worried about making it clear I am lesser than him. I have gone years being second. Being fine with my books. But I can't stop it now. I love the feeling of a sword in hand. It feels natural. I feel like I can breathe. Like all that loneliness of years just vanish.
I did something however that was not right. I might be a True Blood. I had been far behind the man I was after. One second I was behind him. The next I blinked and I was beside him with embers around me and pushed him down. I might have flame walked.
But what if they try to make me join the True Bloods and their order. It would bring great prestige and pride to my family. But what if I fail again. Like I failed in my research to find a cure for my mother's illness.
Spellblood crystallization.
A rare thing where an injury does not heal right and the Spellblood cools just enough to become a crystal again. And it grows endlessly as a crystal.
It meant that with these tiny crystals within, growing slowly, they would damage the veins. The organs. And yes, even the heart. And eyes even. Spellblood healed these tiny wounds easily and quickly. But over time it would exhaust the body. Ruin blood flow.
And the worst was the sudden pain that could come from anywhere. As the crystals grow, they would do more damage until eventually internal bleeding could not heal in time and would kill. I had hoped to be the first to find a cure for this. But failed.
I failed as a son to learn to fight as a kid and now was being forced to learn from a mercenary. A Knights Ranger. But by far the worst, I have failed myself. I gave up. I did not struggle enough to climb my family and their ranks.
Now they all saw me as a burden instead of a threat to their positions. Maybe to be seen as a threat was better. At least that gave respect. How I dread going home. The cold skies. Wet skies and dark blue ocean and jagged cliffs. It would feel nice if it was not here.
Too many times have I learned you can hate and love something. And that was what hurt the most. I loved the cold air. The feeling of open lands. Of little sunlight under grey skies. I regret this hunt. I hate these rare sandy beaches. And I...
Journal Entry End
Date: 03/02/7500
Author Name: Blake Justinian Margrave
I looked up from my writing. I was sitting on a tree branch, and below I saw something I had not thought I would. A male gilled lion. The top of its back a dark blue. So dark it was nearly black. And the bottom where its paws and underbelly was a shiny white. The mane at the top was black and turned white at the bottom.
But on all fours it stood at least five foot eight inches tall. And along its neck were the gills. They breathed on land and underwater with those gills. Open and close with each breath. I was maybe ten feet from this thing. Its pelt shined under the sunlight between the trees.
Its eyes were unlike any I had ever seen. Gray. Not boring gray though. Like gray flames. Like a sun where instead of red or orange was gray. And this pelt, so beautiful, could tank a full metal round. Could brush off dozens of shots.
Only the special rounds our snipers used with the spellblood powdered could get through it. Or a plasma gun. I realized I could not make myself move. And yet I had to. It could kill me. Instead I had a stupid book in my hand. Then that voice, the same voice that told me to kill, was kinder somehow.
"Be still my son. He is interested is all. Show him what you hold." Full sentences. And it was the same voice. Cold and smooth. And why had it called me son. I don't know why. But I moved the book slowly.
And the gilled lion looked at it. Sniffed the air. And then roared loud. I felt my eardrums ring within. As this cat made me understand true power without even having to attack. And yet it just turned and padded away across a small stream.
How could I ever live with so much strength like that. That just being seen close was enough to scare one. That it could cause both pride and fear. My father was like that. He was like the gilled lions. Adapted to this world and life. Maybe I should do the same.
Maybe I needed to make my move now. The board was set. My brother the enemy king. My father was the board with his ability to end it and start it. My mother would be a queen then. Waiting until end game if used right. I had to stop caring.
Had to stop fear. Stop thinking. I needed to allow myself to be like when I held that sword. And this time not leave that state. I smiled. The game is set. I will take the Praetor title. Make my brother and sister bow this time.
I was done. Something was changing and I was loving every second. I would relish this. One world at a time. But one question was left. Could I win with my own strength. Or would I depend on being True Blood if I was one.