Written campaign entries - Arcus: Eventide Ring, ch3 - fake it 'til you make it - 769 words

The Eventide Ring Campaign

chapter 3

Prompt #2 - The Sundogs

769 words

 

    Her shoulder blades dug into the moss covered wall behind her as she backed up. Arcus glanced at her sides - Qilen on the right, Izre on the left, knocking down the corrupted sundogs one after another, as they kept rising back to the fray whenever one fell. The wyfex would have pinched her eyes shut if she had any. She clenched her fists. She had to move. Her options weren't as many as she had hoped - her shotgun had been confiscated on the gate, as soon as she had portaled in. It made sense, even though she didn't like it, but getting it back when she'd be leaving did not help now. That weapon was all that she had for so long - she was lost without it. The fact gnawed at her rib cage from the inside.

 

    Do something, anything.

 

    She was limited to the knife strapped on her hip. Arcus swiftly pulled it out, only to end up staring at its broken blade. Of course it was broken - of course she knew it was. Qilen hadn't paid her back from the one... he somewhat broke. Arcus blamed him, in a way. - in many ways. But in the end, she did not even expect a compensation. Her nonexistent eyes lifted to the beasts before her, their very being howling in pain, long in the past, twisted and distorted by the corruption in their timelost enchantment.

 

    Suddenly her body relaxed. A familiar voice filled her head.

 

    "Fake it 'til you make it!" A light, slightly synthetic sounding voice of a wyfex echoed on the alley's dirt-ridden walls. Arcus groaned near silently. Again with the riddles. She didn't see the other creature.

    "So are you faking it now, huh?" She spoke upwards.

    "Well", a voice stated from behind her. Arcus turned on her heels, her grip tightening around the strap of her bag. Another wyfex stood before her, their long, colorful mane lying unnaturally peacefully on their shoulders. Karmen kicked up a fiberglass staff, partially wrapped in light strips of cloth. They let it spin in the air before grabbing it, spinning it for another round or two between their fingers. The wyfex chuckled as Arcus' ears pinned downward. Karmen gently tapped her horns with the staff, creating a hollow knock. The other fumbled backwards, grasping for the damned stick for a second before giving up as it was pulled away from her reach.

    "Not right now", Karmen let out a sound that resembled a click of a tongue. "But whenever I'm unsure." They shook their head gently and let out another amused chuckle as Arcus' head tilted in a voiceless question. Karmen's earrings chinked against each other, their sound echoing in the alleys silence. They set the staff on their neck, holding it with both hands.

    "You're lost and afraid, right?"

    "...uhh."

    "As an example."

    "Ah, right."

    Karmen put their arm on Arcus' shoulder, letting the staff fall with their other hand, circling right at her side, and continued: "You look at whoever's making you feel like that and say to yourself, or who am I to not tell that right at their stupid face:

 

    You can't tell me what to do or be! I can do this, and you cannot stop me!"

 

    I can do this, and you cannot stop me.

 

    It felt like her whole being caught fire. Izre's attention shifted to the new light source, and for a heartbeat she watched the wyfex's roaring magic, mane ablaze, flickering and glowing like a wildfire. There it was - the spark Arcus had needed for so long.

    She never cared for having magic running through her being, but didn't complain either. It felt unnatural, yet, it was a useful tool for many occasions. Back at "home", there barely was a thing called "magic". She didn't know if Icarus had gotten his powers through Goliath, or through jumping worlds and portals in an attempt to shake off any hunters.

Arcus inspected her hands, then her entire arms. She felt it all burn, but it wasn't exactly uncomfortable, for a lack of a better word - the sensation was difficult to explain. Her gaze lifted again - the corrupted beings unfazed by the flames crackling around her, spinning in wisps of degrees unknown. She threw her broken blade into the air, caught it as it fell, and spun it around between her fingers for a circle or a few. Her grip tightened around its handle, and the chains around her forearms, glowing white from an impossible heat, started to uncoil without a momentum to kick them into gear. The wyfex sneered.

 

    She'd make it.