The Price of Passion [Solo]

[Elhaym]

The Master: "Your return was not an easy thing, I know. How did you find yourself handling yourself?"

The Student: "There were good days, and bad days. Some days were very bad."

The Master: "Tell me of your first day."

The Student: "It was very bad."

The Master: "I cannot help you if you insist on being cryptic, Acolyte."

The Student: "I felt like a toddler dressed in sky blue. Out there I had been important, depended on, needed. Here I was just another maybe. Weak and pitiful and inept. It was hard to stomach."

The Master: "Did you handle it well? Were you able to restrain your anger and irritation, to subdue your frustration?"

The Student: "No."

The Master: "So you failed."

The Student: "Of course."

-----

The 71st Day of Winter, 511 AV

Three crude iron daggers and their even less impressive scabbards were piled in her hands. They were junk, castaways from the armory that were no longer fit for service even as simple tools rather than weapons, yet they would serve her well enough here. Elhaym's thick hair swept across her face as she studied the three straw targets placed in front of her and to either side. She wore her simple Acolyte's garb, a mixture of blues and whites that would have been the perfect camouflage were she hiding in the sky. Yet in the sky she was not, rather in the well trod training grounds of the Shinyama Pavilion. It was a small circular grounds, dirt and dead leaves swirling about her feet as an icy wind slapped at her face and battered her clothing.

The targets were freestanding wooden and straw contraptions that made a silhouette of half a man, a thin beam buried in the earth replacing any attempt at legs. She worked a sheathed dagger into the straw of the first as if it were held in a belt, and did the same for the other two targets. Elhaym nodded to her faux attackers, satisfied with their weapons. She went back to her position in the middle of the three, steeling herself for the task she had set herself. She was apprehensive, but her astral body yearned to test it's limits. She shuddered as her astral soul shed it's skin, pulling itself from her fingers, hands, wrists, and finally left both of her arms limp at her sides. She clenched her fists and felt them grow taut, yet there was nothing for her eyes to see. They were there and not there, the wonder of projection.

A simple test really, or so she thought. She'd done it once before to great effect, and it had saved her life. She intended to draw the daggers from their sheaths, and plant them inside the dummies bellies in quick succession. Without hesitation, she lurched her astral arms to the side and wrapped a ghostly hand against the grainy leather of one dagger's hilt. She wrenched it free easily enough, but the blade wobbled visibly as she awkwardly maneuvered it from the sheath. She had not moved, so her astral arms were bent awkwardly to the side as she managed to slide the rusty blade into the torso of the straw man. With one hand still grasp around the hilt, she maneuvered the other to the small pommel of the dagger, and in unison gave the dagger a fatal twist.

The target wept straw, and a mortal blow had been delivered. Elhaym exhaled heavily for her effort. Her arms slid back to her sides while the odd yet familiar sensation of their movement cascaded her senses. She was aware of them as much as any arm, but the strange things she could do with them went against everything her body told her the appendages should be capable of. She cocked her head to the side, now thrusting her arms forth for the same purpose to the dummy on her other side.

After a few seconds of intense concentration, the dummy on either side of her both stood with a dagger planted firmly in their bellies. Elhaym's brow was slick with sweat and her jaw was clenched tight. Even now she could see the beginnings of hazy blue outlines snaking around her body. She had gotten more comfortable with performing more useful tasks with Projection, but her stamina was still pathetic. A third target remained, and her arms wavered as they made their approach.

She fumbled with the dagger, this time having to press one hand to the sheath to steady it as her other pulled the blade free drunkenly. The air shimmered blue and silver as her arms worked feverishly to puncture the straw solidly, but even that proved too much. She retracted her arms with the dagger hanging halfway from the straw, perilously close to pulling itself free and falling to the earth. Elhaym gritted her teeth together in irritation as her projection slithered up her arms and settled on top of her skin. Failure stung more than anything.

[Elhaym]

She made a sloppy job of rejoining soul and flesh, and both her arms buzzed in irritation for it. The feeling of ten thousand needles plucking at her flesh greeted her as she clenched her mortal fists. The movement only furthered the irritation, and soon her fists were so taught the skin was going white. She was not used to feeling weak, or helpless, or unskilled. Amidst the other Acolytes it was more bearable because they were of similar strength. Some stronger, some weaker, but more or less the same. Alone though, the only references she had were her memories. Memories of being both strong and weak, and one of those tore at her mind and painted a scene over the dusty training ground and clear blue skies. It was as if a waking dream.

A meaty hand tearing into the soft skin of her throat, gnarled and strong. His face was filthy, and he was missing his front teeth. It made his smile wicked as he killed her. It was dark, and his face and rusty mail were illuminated by spastic light from a nearby campfire. Very near. She could feel it's heat on her face, and it burned. It was hard to see. One eye was swollen shut from the blow that had knocked her to her back. No breath left, but a glint on his waist caught her eye. There it sat, perched in a prison of leather and begging for release... and so she obliged it. A final gift it was, to free this lonely prisoner. She watched with a single eye as the blade slipped from it's binds and gave the brute another smile on his neck. This one was bright red and messy and beautiful. His eyes widened and for a moment his grip was so tight she thought he had killed her, yet he fell upon her and she continued to breath. His dying wheezes were grotesque, and the feeling of his life's blood pouring onto her chest and pooling under her hard leather armor and in every crevice of her body was sickening. Yet she lived. She was stronger.

She was not stronger. She blinked several times as the memories dissipated into the brightly lit courtyard and that damned straw man laughing at her. For just an instant it had two missing front teeth, filthy long hair and smelled of vomit and filth. Elhaym's arms still burned, but she lashed out and struck the dummy with a bare fist. Tufts of straw scattered into the wind and whipped at her face. Suddenly she was on the ground, the wooden beam that had supported the target snapped and jutting from the earth as it's former burden lay beneath her. Her hands moved clumsily and viciously, pumping up and down as she smashed what used to be it's head into nothing. Straw and dirty and leaves and blood... she stopped when she realized she was striking the earth, and the buzzing in her arms had given way to a burning in her fist. Crimson gushed forth, so like that night when she gave that son of a bitch a smile that suited him.

A meek sound snapped her back to reality, a feminine voice clearing her throat. Elhaym's chest heaved up and down as she towered over her fallen straw enemy on her hands and knees. She rose with what little grace and dignity she could muster to face the voice, but the face that presented itself was soft, young and without a hint of ridicule or mirth. A young initiate stood meekly before her, a pristine white cloth hanging from her forearm. Elhaym wanted to snap at her and tell her to go away and let her brood. Yet this young girl was simply doing her duty... and doing a far better job of it than she. Elhaym took the cloth and wiped the blood away from her hand. Before she handed it back, she pressed her clenched fist and it's bloodied rag to her heart and bowed. The young Initiate returned the favor, and when Elhaym thrust the rag forward she took her wounded hand at the wrist. Her moves were deft, and a stinging ointment was applied before Elhaym could resist. Before the stinging subsided, the Initiate was walking away to a waiting master. His sash was telling, and she heard their low voices fade to nothing as they vanished out of sight down the halls of the Pavilion.

Elhaym turned back to face the ruin of her failed exercise in projection. Anger welled up in her again, as it had only briefly subsided out of habit to save face in front of the others. To fail at something so pathetically easy, and then be doctored by an initiate like some blubbering novice? Her body reacted to her frustration in the only way it knew; it lashed out. Her right leg smashed into one of the remaining dummies in a vicious arc that split it in half at the chest. Straw and dust mites filled the air, and Elhaym's body spun as the momentum of her kick carried her full circle. She could crush and protect and kill and save and murder and yet, she could do none of those things in the way they required her to. Her fingers dug into the shoulders of the last standing straw man before she realized she had even approached it, and with a snap she tore it in half with a downward yank. She roared and she ripped and she smashed it apart over her knee before tossing both halves aside. The air was saturated with golden flakes and glittering dust. She stormed to the slick wall of stone and skyglass that marked the border of the courtyard and pressed both hands against it's slick surface. She could see a thousand reflections of herself in that wall, her face staring back at her in every hue she knew existed. She saw herself seething.

She cursed the day she had ever set foot back in Lhavit.

[Elhaym]

The Master: "You are a weak and pitiful thing."

The Student: "I know."

The Master: "Good. Tell me of your second day."

The Student: "It was better than the first."

The Master: "Must you answer me so?"

The Student: "I found my strength was not without use. I helped someone."

The Master: "How did that make you feel?"

The Student: "Like a fool. This person was strong beyond measure, someone I could only hope to be. Yet he was angry, and when I looked into his eyes I saw myself tearing at straw dummies and bleating like a spoiled child."

The Master: "I fail to see how that made you feel a fool. If anything, he sounds just like you."

The Student: "No, he was nothing like me. He had a reason to be angry. I did not."

The Master: "Good. Did you help this man? Did you help him overcome his anger?"

The Student: "Of course."

-----

The 72nd Day of Winter, 511 AV

Elhaym grunted under the weight of her pack. It was situated on her back and bulged with bags of grain, fruit, and other foodstuffs. Without a master to dote over, she had no real direction for the rest of the day after her training like the other Acolytes. Idle hands are not long idle within the Shinya however, and she had been given a task. The kitchens in the Monastery needed resupplying, and her back was plenty up to the task... or so they had said. Now she marched up the unrelenting stone steps to the Monastery, breathless and weary. This was her sixth and final trip, and she was exhausted. Every muscle in her body yearned for a rest, just for a minute... but she would not stop. If she stopped she knew she wouldn't make it back to the Monastery anytime soon, and she would likely be sent down for yet an other load for her tardiness. The thought was unbearable. One foot touched the stone, and another the next, and so she climbed.

She was in a trance when she stumbled, and the weight of her pack combined with her unsteady legs nearly sent her plummeting down the steep steps. Her hear froze and seemed to crawl up her throat into her mouth, but her wheeling arms and thick legs found a reserve she had thought long lost to steady herself. Elhaym bent forward with her hands on her knees, her chest heaving up and down. She spotted a slender shape on the step and shook the hair out of her face for a closer look. A staff, or walking stick. It was banded and braced with steel with several ornate patterns etched into it's surface, and it was well worn. Elhaym snatched the staff up and leaned upon it, bracing her weight with it and thanking every god she could imagine for their timely gift. After a few minutes of relentless climbing, even her wondrous gift seemed inadequate. She stopped as she set foot on one of the small squares where the stairs changed directions. They were places a visitor could stop and rest, well suited for the task by two stone benches one either side of her. Her neck burned so badly she didn't even bother stealing a glance. The prospect was simply too tempting. Then she heard something. A whimper, or a moan.

Elhaym turned awkwardly to the bench to her left, her body sagging under the weight of her pack. An old man sat on the bench, his features ablaze in a flurry of color from the two waist high pillars and the light of their torches housed in skyglass. She took another step, and his whimpering became louder. His face was buried in old withered hands and his skin seemed as thin as parchment. She could see a myriad of veins and liver spots on his arms, exposed by the robes that seemed far too large for him. Robes. A black sash and four white stripes. This crying old man was a Master rank Shinya?

"Excuse me, Master. Are you... okay?"

The old man did not answer. He only wept with his head buried in his hands. Elhaym spoke again, but he did not respond. For a moment the weight of her pack was gone, and she was genuinely confused. It startled her when his head snapped up and near snarled at her.

"What do you want little girl? Come to laugh?"

His voice was so full of malice that Elhaym was taken aback. His face was gaunt and pale, and what little hair he had poked up in stray patches of white. He looked sickly and pale, and broke into a fit of wheezing and coughing after he spoke. His fit became so violent that he appeared in danger of doubling over and falling off the bench, so Elhaym reached forward to place a steadying hand on his shoulder. Considering his words, she was not so shocked when he started swatting at her thick arm pitifully. Yet she stayed her hand, and gently eased him back when his fit subsided.

"Why are you sitting out here alone Master? Do you gaze upon Zintila's grace?

[Elhaym]

She'd heard of older Shinya doing just that in the twilight years, so it seemed the right thing to say. It wasn't. This time, the old Shinya truly did shock her.

"Pah! Zintila's grace! Do you see anything graceful here girl? I'm her faithful servant, and look at me. Pah! There's no grace in these parts. Only a dried out husk and sky full of dead promises. That's what... what it..."

He erupted into another violent fit, and Elhaym slipped her arms from her pack's straps in time to catch the man as he began to tumble forward. The contents spilled everywhere on impact, bags of grain torn apart as the winds took hold and scattered them and bags of fruit rolling in every direction. Elhaym went to a knee and held the man as his body shuddered violently, clutching him tightly until it passed. She was shocked at how thin he was. The robes hid it well, but he was bones and skin and no more. His head come to a gentle rest upon his shoulder.

"Leave me girl. Let me die. I can't even walk the steps to my own home. No one would care if I never made it back up, you know. I was going to jump, but I couldn't even manage the strength to throw myself over the edge."

His voice quivered when he spoke, so deeply etched in sadness and pain that Elhaym felt an unbidden tear run down her cheek. The Shinya were a brotherhood... how could someone so prestigious feel he was so alone? A thousand questions and reassuring words flashed through her mind as he began to wail into her shoulder, the blue fabric muffling his cries and growing saturated with tears and snot and spittle. Yet all she could do was stare out over the bench to the mountains beyond, and the shear drop below that he had so desired to plunge into. For several minutes she knelt and held the old master until his wails subsided into sobs, and finally to nothing at all. His breaths came easier at last. She knew the supplies she had hauled up were probably scattered halfway down the stairway now, but she paid it no mind. She had another burden to bear.

"Leave me. Leave me. Leavemeleavemeleaveme..."

"Quiet you crippled old bastard. I'm taking you home. You aren't going to fly tonight."

With that she hooked an arm under his legs and hoisted him up, struggling to her feet and holding him close to her chest like an overgrown and withered old baby. His face was mere inches from hers, and it was unreadable. She thought his eyes were pale blue, but it was hard to tell with the skyglass's treatment of the fire's light. He said nothing, but he gave the slightest of nods as she turned for the stairs. He was so light, yet in her state he may well have been the pack she'd been carrying earlier. She took the first step slowly and began her ascent with the old master in her arms. For several minutes they climbed in silence together before he finally spoke.

"Crippled old bastard... yes, yes that's me. It's good... good to hear someone say it. You're so regal Master, let me change your clothes... You look so strong Master, here, let me wash your back... Pah! I can't tolerate anymore liars. Why can't anyone just tell me the truth? I'm a dying, spent old man."

"Sounds about right to me. You've still got a set of lungs on you though. I think you woke up half the Monastery with your yelling." Elhaym said with a grunt, but her lips curved into a smile as she said it. She had a feeling this old Master's ego wasn't as fragile as his body.

"Good! I hope it woke up the lot of them. Serves them right, you know. I sit in my room all day, with no one even bothering to come talk to the old husk who needs to die. Oh I grant you they send those younglings in to shove that crap they call food into my mouth and clean me up when I piss myself, I'll give you that. Don't you laugh girl, you'll be old one day too. The first time you piss yourself in front of your colleagues is the day you die inside."

"I don't know about that, I pissed myself my third day here. And I was twenty-five."

He had a laugh about that, and Elhaym laughed too. He had a wonderful laugh now that she heard it, almost infectious. The old man was chatting her ear off before long, seemingly oblivious to be carried like a sack of oats as she labored up the steps. She heard all about his children and grandchildren, about his glory days and triumphs and failures, his loves and his dreams. She laughed often and nearly cried as much, but in the back of her mind she feared her promise had been empty. She couldn't make it up those steps carrying him like this.

Yes she could. Elhaym's body was spent, but there was a way. She felt it deep within her then, a faint and weak thing but there none the less. She reached for it greedily, a pulsing reservoir that swelled in tandem with her heartbeat. She need let it out, and so she did. Power flowed through her like a river, crashing in waves through her body and sending a warming sensation through every extremity. She was suddenly aware of every ache and pain and scrape and bruise and cut, but none of it mattered. She felt it not, and her pace quickened as the Flux burned bright inside her. She moved a bit faster now, but the important thing was having the weariness washed away. The Flux could bring great strength, but her understanding of it was minimal.
Elhaym was relishing her renewed vigor when she realized the old Master had stopped speaking. She met his gaze, and he must have seen something in her eyes. He winced and looked away.

"The Flux is dangerous, child. It gets you drunk, worse than any wine. It tastes better, I'll grant you, but the aftertaste is foul. I can see it in your eyes, the Flux. You look drunk. You should lock it away and never touch it again. Take it from a broken old man."

"I... I can't. I'll drop you."

"Not right now you idiot."

Elhaym couldn't help but laugh, and soon the two of them were walking through the Monastery gates still laughing like lunatics. The Initiates who came to see what the commotion likely thought they were drunk. The two of them made a massive fuss over taking the old Shinya to his chambers, but he would have none of it. Elhaym felt horribly awkward holding him there in her arms as he chastised them to the point of meekness. The two Initiates bowed and scuttled away, and Elhaym was once again trudging forward into the Monastery. With his direction she found her way through the maze of halls and corridors until she came to a door he claimed as his own. It was high; she had been forced to climb a series of stairwells once more and she had groaned audibly at the prospect. Yet she made it, and as she swung his door open with her foot and shuffled in she stood in awe. His room was stuffed with treasures.

Trinkets and Weapons, suits of armor from every corner of the world and strange and exotic things she couldn't describe. He had lived a full life indeed... and there in the center of everything stood an intricate table with a strange set of game pieces littering it's surface. She passed it by as she swept into his bedchambers, laying him gently upon the cushion of his bed.

[Elhaym]

"Ah... well... here I am. Back in my bed. The old corpse returns to his kingdom, Hear hear!" He groaned, going into another fit of coughing as he slumped down against his pillows.

Elhaym gently removed the old Master's shoes and removed his robe so that he lay in only his trousers. She gently pulled the thick blanket up to his chin to shield his frail body from the cold.

"Well, I brought you home. You shouldn't go down to the city alone anymore Master. Call for help if you need it, okay?"

He grumbled and turned onto his side, facing away from her. The laughter and happiness he had achieved during their climb was dead. He suddenly looked a hundred years olders than he had, so pale and withered...

"Do you remember the rules to that game?" Elhaym asked suddenly as the notion came to her.

He didn't reply right away, instead rolling onto his back and looking at her with those pale blue eyes. "Yes... Yes I do." His voice was quivering and hopeful.

"Good. I'll be back tomorrow so you can teach me. I love games." Elhaym said with a smile as she reached down to pat the old Master's shoulder. He let out a breath and smiled, nodding to her before falling asleep. His ordeal had been plenty enough to tire him, but the smile didn't fade even as he drifted off into dreams. Elhaym slipped from his chambers without a sound.

---

Out in the dark and descending the steps of the Monastary, Elhaym felt a sudden spasm in her right arm. She ignored it, but It shuddered again and Elhaym was forced to reach over and clutch it fiercely to stop the sudden onset of shakes. She peeled back the sleeve of her robe to reveal the muscles clenched tight and trembling.

"Oh gods."

She had never stopped drawing from the Flux from the time she began. It had been almost a bell. Far too long. That was the danger... Flux hid it's own symptoms by burying them in bliss. She had felt too good. She should have known. Stupid stupid stupid! She stumbled down the steps quickly, clutching her arm and unsure of what to do. Her skill with the Flux was no fine thing, and she had yet to master the techniques to disperse the accumulated djed in her body efficiently. She had always simply shut it down abruptly, and let the djed run it's course. A painful sensation similar to what she experienced with a sloppy handling of reattaching her astral body, but ever so more painful. This would be worse. She had never gone so long in drawing the Flux that she had become unaware of it. She knew what that symptom meant.

She stumbled down the steps onto a flat surface, and saw a familiar sight. Her pack was still there unmolested, it's contents spilled out everywhere. Even the old Master's walking staff was where it had fallen. This was as good a place as any to confront misery.

She stood there amidst burst sacks of grain and fruits of various color and shape, preparing herself for what was to come. She found herself hesitating and unsure, but deep down she knew every second she delayed would make the pain that much worse. She did herself a courtesy and unhooked one of the leather straps of her pack, folding it over and placing it in her mouth. She'd likely break her own teeth if she didn't have something to bite down on.

And then her body roared. The Flux was a river, and she dammed it so suddenly that it was if the river itself grew confused. It flowed it's course for a few seconds, but seemed to become bored with the beaten path. That's when the pain came. The flux tore through her in every which way it could, and Elhaym bit down so hard on the leather strap she thought she might have broken a tooth anyway. She was on the ground then, curled up in a ball and screaming into the leather pitifully. Only a muffled half yell penetrated into the night. Her body spasmed and grew taut, her fingers curling and straightening as her hands contorted a hundred different ways. It was scary to watch, and her whole body began to follow her hand's example. She spasmed and shook, and she only managed to lunge on top of her pack before it overtook her. Her head wretched up and down, smashing on the pack and flattening the food inside. The djed in her body seemed unwilling to dissipate, and without her guiding hand she was helpless as the pain of it's power unchecked. Suddenly the leather was gone from between her teeth, and she howled into the night.

[Elhaym]

She felt something slapping her face, and her eyes twitched open. She wished she hadn't. Her body was on fire; it hurt so badly, as if she had run for twenty miles without stopping... or breathing. A hand went behind her head, and she knew she was weeping. She felt soft fabric on her face and an arm around her shoulder. She smelled onions and garlic. It was the Shinya who had been in the kitchens directing the Initiates as they cooked, the one who had ordered her to fetch all the supplies.

"The guards at the gate told me you they saw you carrying Old Hahn up to his room. When you didn't come to the kitchen with the last load, I was going to check if you were then when I heard the screaming."

"Ughh... hurts..."

"I know. This will hurt worse. For that I am sorry."

She cried out as he lifted her, and every step he took up the stairway to the Monastary was agony. She slipped from consciousness before long.

---

When she awoke, she was laying in a scratchy bed with a wool blanket thrown over her and a goose feather pillow under her head. Thankfully, she was still clothed down to her shoes. She rose slowly, immidietly putting a hand to her forehead as if that would ease the pain that lingered there. Initiates were milling about, and she assumed she had occupied one of their beds in the Monastary for the night. She felt awful when she saw a thin blanket and a lumpy pillow laid out next to her bed; whomever's bed she had taken had not rested at ease that night. None of the Initiate's seemed cross with her though. In fact, they all greeted her warmly. Some offered her tea or black coffee, which she kindly refused in favor of cold mountain water. She didn't make it five steps out of their chambers before she passed a familiar face and forced herself to a stop.

"I owe you a giant sack of food Sir, I know." She said solemnly. She did not know the Shinya's name; some of the ones in the Monastary rarely came to the city.

"You owe me nothing. Master Hahn was abuzz this morning talking about you, shuffling down the corridors yelling for his stick and dragging Initiate's around by their ears before setting them down and telling them all about the young Acolyte who saved his life. Apparently you're a hero. Who knew? I guess that make's me a hero too, since I saved the hero."

They both had a chuckle at that, and he took a stride beside her as they walked. The Shinya finally offered an arm for support. She took it gratefully. Her head was pounding and her body was weak, but the memory of the Flux's betrayal made it seem insignificant. As the entered the open morning air of the courtyard he stopped, and Elhaym relinquished the support of his arm.

"I know of you, Acolyte. You are Elhaym Vormav, of the Furuma lineage. The apple didn't fall far from the tree with you. As reckless and kind as Sooyun ever was if the stories say it true. You will make a fine Shinya one day. But not today. Return to the Pavilion Acolyte, and if they question your absence... just tell them Master Hahn got a hold of you. They won't risk coming up here to ask him, I'll tell you that for certain."

His grin was sly, and Elhaym returned one of her own crooked smiles. She started to ask him his name out of respect, but he waved her off. "Oh no no no, you see. Old Hahn they won't question, but I promise you they'll have me meditating on the risks of sending Acolytes up and down those steps with sacks of food on their backs for a hundred bells if you slip my name in there."

"Maybe that's not such a bad Idea, Sir...?"

The Shinya's face screwed up for a second before he let out a sigh and conceded. "Maise."

Elhaym nodded, and placed her fist upon her heart as she bowed deeply. She owed the man greatly.

"I'll be sure to give you a glowing reccomendation, Sir Maise."

"Yeah, yeah..." He said as he pivoted on his heels. He chuckled as he walked though, and Elhaym knew he felt no ill will towards her. When she turned to leave through the Monastary gates, she heard him call out.

"Did I say cruel? Reckless, kind, and cruel!"

[Elhaym]

The Master: "You are an odd student. I often wonder if you really hate yourself so much? You never allow yourself to rest or heal from a wound before imposing something even more harsh upon yourself."

The Student: "I assumed that was what made a good student."

The Master: "Just so. As I said, it is odd. Tell me of the day you broke your fast."

The Student: "I was-"

The Master: "Do not say you were hungry."

The Student: "Very well. I was extremely hungry."

The Master: "Very cute. For truth, what made you eat?"

The Student: "I realized I didn't need to hurt anymore. I have nursed wounds for years thinking they would never heal. Holes in my life that could never be filled. I had no close friends and no family. I felt like a shell, and empty shells have no need of food."

The Master: "How very dramatic. Yet you no longer feel this way. Why is that?"

The Student: "I realized I had lost one brother, but gained a hundred."

The Master: "I see. You have finally accepted the Shinya as your family then?"

The Student: "Of course."

-----

The 78th Day of Winter, 511 AV

Hunger ripped at her insides like a beast's clawed hand. It roared and moaned, but she denied hunger's tantrum. Elhaym sat cross legged, simply clothed in the sky blue robes of an Acolyte among one of the cleared training grounds the Shinya used. Her hands were steepled into a tent, and her head was bent forward just so the tips of her fingertips brushed her forehead. She had not taken a meal today, nor yesterday. It was not punishment, nor was it demanded of her. It was no punishment; it was a battle.

Elhaym's mind dampened out the pains of hunger, washing away the discomfort to replace it with a starry sky. In her mind she sat cross legged on the peak of a mountain, the stars so close she could reach out and touch them. Here her mind settled, and the comfort of this place kept her worldly pain at bay. Yet soon even a thousand torches in the night could not shield her from the hunger, and her mind sought refuge in the past.

---

It was overcast and cold, a bone chilling wind slicing through their uniforms and gnawing their flesh to the bone. Elhaym could scarcely feel the heat of the fire she crouched in front of on account of the wind at her back. Yet even that could not compete with the pit in her stomach. The caravan had been attacked, and one of the wagons bearing the majority of their foodstuffs had been cut loose to sate the the greed of the reaver's who had been pursuing them. A wagon load of supplies was more valuable than silks and furs, and they had relented to enjoy their feast. The caravan and it's Shinya guards however had to make due with little to nothing. The Lhavitian merchants made due with the little, and the Shinya made due with the nothing. They were protectors; their charges came before them.

"Detach your mind from your body, Elhaym. Much like your astral body separates from your physical body, a sound mind can overcome even the most horrible worldly pains."

She didn't know which of her Shinya brothers had offered her those words of wisdom, but they rang true. She was merely an Acolyte; she did not have the practical experience the other full fledged Shinya guarding the caravan had. She needed to be reminded every now and again. The rest of the night had been tolerable as Elhaym's mind had retreated from it's mortal coil's plight.

---

She did not know how long she sat there, her hunger crashing against the ramparts of her mind uselessly. It could have been minutes or hours or years, it made no difference.

Her eyes snapped open as a she felt a delicate tap on her shoulder. She rose from her seated position under the power of her legs alone, smoothly turning to meet a fellow Acolyte who stood before her. She did not know him, nor he her. His face was kind however, and more so the gift that he had brought her. A simple meal really, plain but warm biscuits and a pewter cup of water and lemon. He must have noticed her not eating, and without a sponsor to directly oversee her training for the time being must have took it upon himself to see to her care. Elhaym nodded, taking the humble offering with a bow. The young man met her bow precisely, but lingered when she rose.

When she retreated to her seated position and began to eat her first meal in days, the nameless Acolyte sat down beside her in the same cross legged fashion. They did not speak. She ate slowly, nursing the hunger she had defeated twice now as he closed his eyes and fell into the same trance she had put herself in moments ago.

Elhaym had thought for a long time that because she had lost so much of her family she would never find anything to fill the void. Her brother, her uncle, her mother, even her father to some extent. Yet here, a brother sat beside her. A brother who's name she did not know, but a brother who did her kindness and would share in her hardships without question.

The Shinya were her family now. Her family was as massive as Lhavit itself, filled with those who loved her. From nameless Initiate's who doctored her wounds or slept on the ground for her, to cantankerous old men who simply wanted someone to talk to. They were cooks and tricksters, stern masters and giggling girls. They were those who simply cared to be there when no one else had thought to. They were her. The thought brought a smile to her tranquil lips as she ascended back to the top of her mountain. The stars seemed to burn even brighter now. A thousand stars, for a thousand brothers and sisters.

[Elhaym]

The Master: "I think i finally understand you, Acolyte."

The Student: "I will change tomorrow. Enjoy it while you can, Master."

The Master: "I will. That is part of my understanding."

The Student: "I see. Have I become so stale to not challenge you?"

The Master: "Oh quite the contrary. You are the most passionate student I have ever encountered. It's your upbringing, I think."

The Student: "No one has ever called me passionate."

The Master: "But if you are anything, it is passionate. It is your passion that fuels your rage when you feel you have failed. Your passion that lets you take a broken man and help put him back together. Your passion that lends itself to discovery of self. Your passion is all you are. Yet there is a price."

The Student: "Then I am in passion's debt, as I seem to have run short on Kinas."

The Master: "You jest, but I know you understand my meaning. Passion is a dangerous thing, and within the ranks of the Shinya it will cause you endless suffering."

The Student: "I cannot change who I am."

The Master: "Nor would we ever ask that of you. You will make a fine Shinya one day... but you do know it will be your passion that dooms you. It will be your undoing."

The Student: "Of course."

-FIN-

[Hermit]

Thread Award

An excellent bit of insight into Elhaym's nature in three acts.

Flux 3
Meditation 3
Body Building 3
Projection 4
Unarmed Combat 2

Fasting
Mind Over Body
Honoring One's Elders
The Price of Flux

Thanks for another enjoyable read. I am sure there are many more to come. Should you have any questions or concerns, you know where to reach me.

Hermit