Vigor Mortis

My roommate and I each stare at each other in horror, for vastly different reasons. Neither of us has the courage to break the silence until eventually the burning agony of my question becomes too much to hold onto.

"...You know Fulvia?" I ask breathlessly.

Gina takes a while to register my words, for her eyes to stop staring at me and actually focus on me. I don't blame her. I know what I am. What I don't expect is for her to dart a hand underneath her pillow, pull out a knife, and start backing towards the door.

My eyes zero in on the knife without my input, and as time seems to slow I can feel them dilate. Threat. Food. Kill. My ears shoot upwards, pointing her way after one briefly swivels towards the door, double-checking for threats outside. Heart hammering, adrenaline pumping, memories of fighting and killing blade-wielding hunters playing vibrantly through my head, I carefully, carefully do not bare my teeth or move from my seat. There is no food here. There is no danger here.

And if there is danger, let it take me without resistance.

I refuse to move until Gina makes it all the way to the door, flipping the latch unlocked. Then and only then do I let myself act, since I need to place my helmet back on my head in case she opens the door.

"You're dead," she hisses. "She said you were dead. If even half of what she told me is true—"

"Then I deserve worse than death," I finish for her, strapping my helmet back into place. "I know what I did. Is…"

The words catch in my throat. I don't deserve to ask them. I don't deserve to know. I'm too weak to just shut up and hold my tongue, though.

"...Is she okay?" I whisper.

From the midst of her panic, Gina manages to give me an incredulous look.

"Is she okay? Is she okay!? She was on my team for a whole fucking year before she could actually talk about why she would wake up screaming in the night. We had to pretend it just didn't happen, since otherwise she might get kicked off the team. But after hearing why I sure didn't fucking blame her, you sick shit."

I flinch, nodding slightly. Well, it sounds like Fulvia is still alive, and… at least doing well enough to continue being a hunter. That's good to hear. Gina, meanwhile, has managed to quickly stabilize her shaking and settle into a combat stance, her knife still pointed my way. If I had any food handy I would offer to let her stab me if that will make her feel better, but as-is it would be too dangerous to let myself get injured. I might hurt her instinctively if I start bleeding enough.

"Please put that away," I ask her. "I won't hurt you, and I can't let you hurt me."

"Oh, fuck you," Gina hisses. "You act like you're so damn invincible. You've got no room to jump around in this tiny-ass dorm though, do you? A knife is pretty damn scary here, isn't it?"

Scary? Gina is slow. Everyone here is slow. A single slash of claws to her knife-holding wrist and she has nothing. The door opens inwards; backed up against it like she is, she won't be able to escape the teeth that follow. Even if she somehow stabs me, it won't matter. The knife will gouge my flesh, slick with black blood, and then the wound will vanish as my teeth tear into her body and soul.

So sure, the knife is scary. But not because I'm afraid to get hurt.

"Gina," I say evenly. "How many vrothizo have you killed?"

She snorts.

"My team has taken out nearly twenty of you bastards," she sneers.

"Okay," I continue, "and how many have you taken out? Alone. With nothing but a knife."

I stand up slowly. I'm hoping what Lady Vesuvius said is right, and all I will need to do is remind her what I am and she will back off. But I guess I underestimated Gina's courage, or maybe her stubbornness. She has been very annoying, and while I understand that I deserve this harsh treatment, if it is for the sake of getting her to put her weapon away I will try Penelope's suggestion.

I don't have to, though. The moment I start to stand up Gina grabs the door handle, yanks the door open, and sprints out of our dorm like she's on fire. I take a deep breath, close and lock our room back up, and remove my helmet, remaining inside.

Then I curl up on my bed and start to cry.

I'm stupid. I'm so, so stupid. Why did I think this would be a good idea? Of course it's just going to make everything worse. Of course it's just going to make everyone hate me more. I deserve it, I know I deserve it, but it doesn't make the terror or the hate any easier to swallow.

“I don’t remember,” the loud one whispers, its voice odd.

“What? Fulvia?” the beautiful one turns its head to look at its companion. “What don’t you remember?”

“Their names!” my meal moans. “I don’t remember their names!”

“Whose names? Fulvia? Fulvia, listen to me! Look at me, please!”

I remember how I felt back then. Fulvia... no, 'the loud one' in my memories, was barely better than any other annoying food. Favorable because she was flavorful. Nothing more, nothing less. I remember every scream, every cry, every single time she begged for the release of death. I didn't understand her words at the time, but I know I wouldn't have cared even if I had. Before my mistakes and the careful words of a wise man shoved how wretched I truly am into my face, that is all I was. And the worst part is that's not just in the past, it's not some other monster in my body who thought that way. It was me. Sometimes, in flashes, it's still me. Gina can be a frustrating bully, and in moments of weakness I find my thoughts tempted towards the emotionless self-interest that summed all I was before I knew August.

It would be so easy to eat everyone here. If I just cast off the armor holding me back and let my teeth rip free, I could… I… dang it! Just like that, I'm already thinking about it. Imagining it. Wishing for it. I squeeze the side of my bed, gauntlets straining against my grip. Why do I have to be this kind of monster? Why did I hatch as a literal nightmare from the forest rather than as a real person? What does the Watcher want with me? Why does this trial have to be mine?

The tears continue to flow, my body shaking as my mind is wracked by memories. Blood, combat, joy. Pain, injury, loss. Friendship, betrayal, realization. My whole life plays itself back in front of me at rapid speed, taunting and tormenting me at each mistake. I have to get up, I have to move and distract myself from this or it will never stop. But I don't have the will. I can only spiral lower and lower, desperate for something, anything to grab onto and make it end.

So for the first time in nearly two years, I start to sing.

“This is a Lark’s story,

“Content yet seeking more.

“The Lark flies far for she

“Loves naught but to explore.

“From islands high she sees so far,

“Searching still for something new.

“But the Lark can’t fly above the sky,

So down and down she flew.”

Over and over, I stab myself with Claretta's lullaby, a painful but comparatively tolerable memory. The words don't sound very good on my first verse, nor my second, but I remember exactly how they are supposed to sound and I never make the same mistake twice. I sing and I sing and I sing, letting the simple task of vocal mastery distract me from my tears, my regrets, and my mistakes.

Then, when I finally believe I can manage it, I curl up with my arms clutched around my head and force myself into torpor.

Before I know it, day has passed to night and back again. It's time for classes, and Gina still hasn't returned to the dorm. I hope she's okay, and I suppose the best way to find out is to go about my business. Strapping my helmet back on, I wander out to the courtyard for combat class.

Under my breath, I find myself still humming the song.

I'm first to the courtyard, as usual, but the others quickly learned the consequences of showing up late. (Having to run a bunch more is apparently unpleasant for humans, which is one of those things I just had to ask.) As such, it isn't long until Melik and Harvey show up, then right after them is Gina, Xavier, and Bentley. All three of whom are rather pointedly staring at me. No one speaks as all of us line up and stand at attention, waiting for the instructor to arrive. It's a bit of a tense situation, but after yesterday I'm too worn down to be particularly affected by it. I suppose that's one advantage of being haunted by the past.

"Well, we've gotten the bullshit out of the way," the instructor barks as he walks onto the field, apparently deciding to waste no time before starting the lecture. "I know how you idiots all fight. I know exactly what nonsense you need to unlearn. Which means we can finally begin the main purpose of this course: teaching you degenerates how to not embarrass yourselves with a sword."

He paces back and forth in front of us as I frown to myself. Combat class has quickly become my least favorite over the past tenday, and weapon practice is unlikely to endear it to me any more than it was before.

"Specifically, a one-handed blade and a fucking shield. Even you mistbrains have surely noticed by now that is the standard issue weaponry for the Templars. Why? Because while any idiot can pick up a spear and stab monsters with it, a sword takes effort. It takes practice. It takes skill. It is a symbol of superiority, and superior is what Templars are. That, and if you walk around town with a fucking eight-foot polearm all the time, you're going to have a damn bit of trouble getting through doors. Spears are a weapon for war, but you are as much peacekeepers as you are warmongers. When you draw your weapon you'll want it to be one that you actually have the room to use on a crowded street."

He keeps talking, and I am fairly certain I pick up the gist of things. I've seen and fought people that use sword and shield, although most of them are slightly different from the Templar standard. Norah used a shield almost as large as she was when we fought, which made it relatively easy to get into her blind spot. That was a deceptively double-edged advantage, however, because it turned out to be less of a boon that I could blind her and more of an issue that I had to blind her if I wanted any hope of getting at her more vulnerable allies. Likewise, Alan used a two-handed sword instead of a sword and shield, but I understand what the instructor is talking about.

Eventually, the instructor hands out practice blades and we spend the next two hours practicing drills, which is another one of those things that's helpful to humans but mostly a waste of time to me. After confirming with the instructor that I'm doing the drills correctly, it doesn't take much time before I can speed them up close to the limit of what I'm comfortable with, in either hand. Harvey and Gina seem to be fairly comfortable with the practice swords, but most of the others are still struggling to get the drills right at all, let alone get them up to my speed. I wonder if maybe the Watcher gave me a body and mind that learn quickly because he doesn't intend for me to be in this world very long. That would be nice.

After class, I try to immediately move towards our next class but I'm intercepted by Xavier and Bently. Which isn't really unexpected, I suppose. They have both removed their helmets, since for other people it's not required to wear the Templar armor outside of combat practice. Bently seems confused, a bit hesitant. Xavier smells worried.

"Um, hey there, Lark," Xavier says, scratching the back of his head. "So, um, funny story. Gina sort of insisted on sleeping in our room last night."

"Sorry about that," I answer blandly. "That's my fault."

Everyone else continues to the next class, Gina included, leaving the three of us in relative privacy.

"It's not your fault, Lark," Xavier insists. "But is it okay if we ask what happened?"

"Isn't it weird to claim it's not my fault if you don't know what happened?" I mumble.

"Gina seemed really scared," Bently murmurs. "Is she okay?"

"I suspect so," I say. "Other than the fact that she's scared, I mean."

"And she's scared because…?" Xavier prompts.

"Because I decided to show her what was underneath my helmet," I explain.

Xavier and Bently share a look for a brief moment before turning back to me.

"You know, um, Lark…" Xavier begins hesitantly. "We're all Templar trainees here. We aren't… well, Bently and I certainly aren't going to judge you based on what you look like. And, forgive me if I'm being rude, but I've been picking up on some hints that you might not be totally human…?"

"Which is okay," Bently promises. "Really!"

"I appreciate that," I answer, though I move to step past them both. "But taking my helmet off last night proved to be a pretty big mistake. And I'm still not actually supposed to, so if you'll excuse me…"

"Right, right! Sure, I get that," Xavier says, getting out of my way but immediately rushing up to walk in step aside me. "I don't know, it's also just… we know Gina has been really hard on you. And Gina is nice, like, she's a really cool person but if she's going to escalate her little rivalry thing with you by telling rumors that maybe aren't totally true we want to… you know, get your input on that. Because otherwise that's… not fair."

I stop walking.

"…Gina told you what she saw?" I ask.

"Well, yes, and I think she said she was going to tell the others too, but the thing she said was kind of… you know, a bit crazy? And I mean, it's okay if it's true, I just… you know."

I frown. I guess that's it, then? For some reason I never really thought about the fact that she might go and tell everyone what I am. That's kind of frustrating… but it's also kind of relieving. The secret is out, now. Open and free, where it belongs. Surely I won't get in any more trouble than I'm already in for now, right? Slowly, part of me panicking but most of me just too done to care about the consequences, I start undoing the clasps on my helmet.

"I owe you an apology, Bently," I say. "I pretended I didn't know you back when we introduced ourselves. That was wrong of me."

His eyes are already starting to go wide with recognition before I pull the helmet off, but once I do, shaking out my eternally poofy helmet hair, his jaw just about hits the floor.

"I, uh, also owe you an apology for biting out the back of your knee," I add hastily. "And the claw wounds. Sorry."

A continuation of Bently's—and now Xavier's—intensely dumbfounded stares is my only response. I glance away, an invisible black blush blooming on my cheeks as I distract myself by stretching and flicking my sore ears.

"Y-you're... a lot taller!" Bently eventually blurts.

I blink in surprise.

"Er, yes?"

"Wait, you two know each other?" Xavier asks.

"We tried to kill each other a few times," I mutter. "Thankfully, I never succeeded."

"So, you're really a vrothizo, then?" Xavier asks, awed.

In lieu of a verbal response I just flash a macabre grin at him, pulling my lips back as far as they'll go to reveal the full extent of my curved, black teeth. To my surprise, however, Xavier doesn't flinch away but instead leans towards me and lets out a low whistle.

"Wow," he says, seeming legitimately impressed. "Them's some chompers."

I… have no idea how to respond to that.

"Gosh, I can't believe you're the same Lark!" Bently chuckles to himself, scratching his cheek. "I feel kind of silly. We all thought Vita killed you!"

"You are both weirdly calm about this," I say. "Bently, you saw what I did to people. You know what I am."

"I mean, you already told us on day one," Xavier answers dismissively. "You joined the Templars to atone. So… good for you!"

"Yeah, I mean, you're not eating anybody," Bently agrees awkwardly. "And I, um… I forgive you for eating me that one time! Really. I'm glad you're nice now!"

"Th-thanks?"

"Does Bently taste good?" Xavier stage-whispers, sidling up next to me.

I flinch, completely unprepared for that.

"I… what!?" I sputter. "I mean, all humans taste good, I guess?"

"Hmm," Xavier mutters thoughtfully. "That's kind of a weird answer."

"It was a very weird question!"

"I'm just… y'know," Xavier gestures vaguely. "A simple yes or no would have sufficed. But it's cool! It's cool, you do you."

The two of them actually enter the next class with me, acting like it's totally normal that a vrothizo wearing Templar armor is walking between them. Which I'm really, really thankful for, because I think it might be what prevents our law teacher from drawing a weapon.

Our law instructor is a retired Templar, and if I recall correctly (that's a perfect memory joke) her retirement was about a year ago, meaning that there's a high chance she knows people that have been killed by vrothizo. So I don't really blame her for giving me a mild death glare. Likewise, former-soldier Harvey initially looks like he's about to prepare for a fight, but after a brief moment looking me over he seems to quickly calm down, returning to his default state of ignoring everyone. Gina stares with fear and incredulity, as she did last night, but Melik out of everyone gives me a gaze of the most open hatred.

Honestly, it's nowhere near as bad as I feared. Nobody attacks or kicks me out, the teacher treats me with sharp professionalism despite her obvious dislike of me, and the classes are almost entirely boring because I've already read ahead. I even take my boots off halfway through class, although the instructor yells at me to quit distracting everyone after I start flexing my talons, to which I mutter an embarrassed apology. The boots are just not comfy! At all! I decide to carry them around along with my helmet rather than put them back on after class ends.

"Holy shit, that's so cool," Xavier says, bounding right up to me. "Can you grab stuff with your feet?"

"Language," I mumble. "And… probably? My thumb toes are opposable, but I imagine that would make it very difficult to walk."

"Are you okay, Lark?" Bently asks. "I saw you were getting a lot of really mean looks."

"Oh yeah, it's okay," I assure him awkwardly. "I'm used to it."

What I'm not used to is getting fawned over. Even my friend Eun made a point not to talk very much about my inhuman features, and frankly I liked it that way. It's nice to not be hated, but… having attention drawn to what I am makes me uncomfortable. The obvious solution is to put the armor back on, of course, but then I'd… well, have to deal with the armor again. So I'll try to enjoy this while I can.

"Trainee Lark!" snaps a gruff voice.

I turn and immediately stand to attention as I spot the Templar captain who barked at me. They are in full uniform, so I don't have the slightest idea who they are other than the fact that they don't smell familiar.

"Captain!" I acknowledge.

"Your casual dress will be tolerated within the base, but under no circumstances are you to allow anyone outside the Templars to see you out of uniform. That includes any public areas of the base. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain!"

"Don't press this any further, Trainee," the Captain orders, then walks off.

Huh. I really expected there to be more consequences than that. What you have been told to do and what you will be allowed to do are two different things.

"Lady Vesuvius was right," I mutter.

"Wait, you've talked to Penelope?" Bently asks excitedly. "She was on my hunter team!"

I stare at him blankly for a couple seconds, trying to figure out if he's serious.

"I know," I eventually supply. I nearly murdered the woman, for crying out loud!

He blinks, then scratches his cheek with embarrassment.

"Oh yeah," he says. "Sorry, it's really easy to forget. You're just so… different now! It's like you're a completely new person!"

I flinch, pressing my ears flat.

"I… really?" I ask quietly.

"Oh yeah, definitely!" Bently confirms, nodding jovially. "Like before you were all 'Nya ha ha! I'm going to lead you into web traps and eat you! Humans are tasty!' but now you're all shy and quiet and polite all the time. It's nice! You're not scary at all!"

I glance down at the floor, shaking slightly as I try to fight against the tears I feel welling up behind my eyes. I want to deny it, tell him no, I'm the same as I always was. I'm still that malevolent creature that enjoys the hunt and the taste of blood. I still feel that way, the need to eat and kill singing in my bones. The things I do to make me look like a person… it's nothing but an act. I need to tell him, to make sure he knows it so he won't ever let his guard down and get hurt.

"Thank you," is all I actually say. His words make me too happy to articulate anything else.

"Yeah!" he answers cheerfully, all joy and goofy grins.

I can't help it, I smile back. As wide as I can without opening my lips. The tears start to flow then, but I no longer care. Xavier gives Bently a friendly punch in the shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows as the three of us continue onto our ethics class. The instructor gives me an odd look as we enter, but he seems more surprised than anything. Melik and Gina break off from a hushed conversation to glower at me.

"You boys better not be making anyone cry," the ethics instructor chides.

"N-no!" I manage to choke out. "No, it's good."

He watches me carefully as we all head to our seats, eventually giving me a curt nod and starting the lecture as normal. At our magic lesson, the instructor takes almost too keen an interest in me, like a mix of all my least favorite parts of Lady Vesuvius' and Xavier's attention, but it's mostly ignorable as I spend the entirety of the class trying and failing to learn to channel. I passed the cancel command test a few days ago, but I've been stonewalled at the supposedly 'easy' step. Which is okay, I suppose. I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually.

It's a very short day today, so it's dark by the time classes are over. It's not really a big deal, though. The entire barracks is lit with temporary kynamancy inscriptions, casting an eerily pale light over everything that's more than enough to see by. Although, I suppose for all I know it's dark to humans; I would be able to see just fine without any lights at all. I meander a bit before returning to my room, following Bently and Xavier as they chatter with each other. I'm not really part of the conversation, but it's still nice to be there, to feel like I'm with them without being unwanted. Eventually, however, I have to break away to retrieve my package of mice and gulp them down in the bathroom. Afterwards I return to my room, intending to torpor until classes start tomorrow. To my surprise, however, when I open the door I feel that same magical tingle I did at Galdra's front door. Not as powerful, but certainly dangerous.

My pulse rises, my quills twitch, my spinnerets flex. Someone has laid a trap for me.

...Or for Gina, I suppose, but that seems less likely. I should still make sure she doesn't walk into it, though, so I opt to stand and wait outside the doorway until someone walks by. It's possible that Gina will refuse to return to our room today as well, but if I don't see anyone for an hour I suppose I'll just curl up and torpor outside the room. Thankfully, it's only ten minutes before Gina pokes her head around the far end of the hallway and scowls at me.

"All right, I give up. What the fuck are you doing?"

"Hello, Gina," I greet her. "I think there's a magic trap here, so I wanted to make sure you didn't run into it."

She stares at me for a while. I stare back.

"You set the trap, didn't you?" I eventually ask.

"Fuck you, Lark!" Gina snaps. "Fight me!"

"I don't want to hurt you," I answer flatly. Even if she is making an incredibly strong case for it.

"Well, we want to hurt you," a male voice insists.

It's Melik. He steps into the hall as well, glowering furiously at me.

"I have had more than enough monsters pretending to be people in my life," he snarls. "Your face looks very human, after all… and vrothizo look like whatever things they manage to eat alive. You do not deserve to be here."

I shrug lightly. I agree with him, but it's not my call. The gesture only seems to make him narrow his eyes further, though.

"I'm not going to fight," I say simply. "I don't want to hurt any of you."

"You should, though," says yet another new voice, this time from behind me.

Harvey walks into the hall from behind me, and now I'm suddenly surrounded. I don't know much about Harvey, as he seems content to make himself mostly forgettable. The quiet older man was apparently a 'tactical officer' before joining the Templars, whatever that means. He doesn't seem aggressive, at least, but I'm not really sure what he's talking about.

"I should want to hurt them?" I ask him incredulously.

"No, of course not," he grunts back. "You should fight. You really think you'll never be expected to fight someone as a Templar? That's half our job. If you keep half-assing the combat classes, you won't pass."

"What the fuck are you doing here, Harvey?" Gina snaps. "You said you didn't want to be involved."

"I don't," he answers flatly. "But unfortunately it's an adult's job to oversee squabbles between children."

"Fuck you! If you want to stop us, then—"

"No, feel free to kick each other's asses," Harvey grunts. "Just do it in the courtyard, not the hallway. If you stay here you'll break a lot more than each other."

He starts walking in that direction, and I start to follow without really thinking about it. What I am thinking about are his words: fighting is half a Templar's job. It won't just be against monsters. It will be against criminals, soldiers, and—if I'm to get any meaningful practice in—each other.

"Don't worry too much," Harvey mutters quietly to me. "They're both angry, but neither of them are dumb enough to actually try to kill you. And if they are… I'll stop them before it goes too far."

I shrug.

"That's not really something I'm worried about," I answer.

He smirks, just the slightest bit.

"Then I'll stop you."

I size him up, taking in the scent of his strength. He's pretty tough, I guess. A lot stronger than most people, anyway, but there's also only one of him. If I lose control and actually try to kill him, I doubt it would be that difficult.

"The sentiment is appreciated," I say noncommittally.

Unlike the rest of the barracks, the courtyard is mostly dark. Melik and Gina follow behind me as I walk out towards the center of it, trying to decide what to do. We stop twenty feet apart from each other, give or take. Gina has a sword at her hip, and not one of the practice swords we were using earlier today. A real chitin blade. Melik, on the other hand, just pulls out a small container and opens the lid. To my surprise, some kind of shiny, reflective powder floats out of it and starts moving around him in the arcane patterns. Whenever the strange dust clumps together in a certain way, I feel the telltale tingle of another trap buzzing into existence somewhere behind me in the courtyard. That's so interesting! I've never seen anyone cast spells like that.

"So, how are we doing this?" I ask. "If you're both really this set on sparring…"

"It's not a spar," Melik sneers. "We are fighting a monster. Nothing else."

I tilt my head. Hunters versus monsters all over again, huh?

"Sure," I say. "I'll take the first turn playing as the monster."

"It's not a fucking game, you… ugh. Forget it."

"Hey, Gina?" I ask slowly as Melik continues to set up more traps on the battlefield. "I was wondering. Are you going to tell Fulvia that I'm alive?"

She flinches, looking away.

"I haven't decided," she grunts. "It'll hurt her to know. But she deserves to know."

"Yeah," I agree. "Sorry to put you in that position."

Gina gives me a calculating look, apparently not quite sure what to make of that.

"Let's just make it a moot point," Melik mutters.

"I don't really understand why you're here," I admit to Melik. "Do you want to beat me up? To kill me?"

"Do I need a reason to hate vrothizo?" he counters.

"Well, no," I admit. "I also hate vrothizo. I've killed nearly two hundred of them, and every few days I visit First Lady Vesuvius and let her cut me up so she can learn how to kill us better. And I do it because we're all terrible, and we deserve to die."

"Fuck you," Melik snaps. "You think I'll buy that, you piece of shit? If you really believed that then you'd be dead."

"I guess that's fair," I allow. "Unfortunately, I'm also a coward. I've never actually succeeded at committing suicide."

Everyone seems to bristle at that, as if I said something deeply shocking. For some reason, I find that funny.

"Wait, this is a surprise to you?" I laugh. "Really? Weren't you all born with empathy? Yes, I'm a monster. You don't have to remind me! I robbed every shred of humanity I have with my teeth, and now I'm just expected to live with it!"

I drop my helmet and boots as I rant, peeling off my gloves. They want a monster? I'll show them one. Soon I'm gratefully flexing my black-clawed hands, removing my torso armor, and rolling my sore extra shoulders. My quills extend up through the already-shredded padded shirt I wear underneath the plate, and letting me reveal the full extent of what I really am to my former prey.

"I didn't ask to be chucked off of Hiverock. I didn't ask to hatch, or to get tossed into a cannibalistic free-for-all seconds after. I never asked to run into hunters, or to be smart enough to keep them alive. I never asked to learn what love is after it was already too late! I would gladly let you kill me if any of you had a chance of actually succeeding. But no, if I just sit back and let you flail around at me, it's more likely you'll only deal enough damage to make my body decide it has to bite back."

"Oh, is that it?" Gina sneers. "It's our fault if you happen to take a little nibble?"

"No," I snap. "It's my fault. My responsibility. But I don't know the right thing to do here. So if you really want to fight, if you really want to press this, then the best I can manage is to take Lady Vesuvius' advice on the matter."

"Well, we're fucking fighting, Lark," Gina insists, her body tensing to move. "So what was her advice?"

I lean over, crouching low, the claws of my talons digging deep into the hard-packed dirt of the courtyard.

"Establish dominance," I quote.

Exploding forward, I keep my body tucked in low as I leap towards them faster than the air can chase me. Multiple magical traps are in my way and I simply let them activate, passing over them so fast that most of them miss me entirely. The ones that do hit me singe my talons and ankles, raw mana tearing into them and burning me from the inside. None of it stops me. Gina swings her blade towards me, timing the strike to connect just as I get in range, but with one hand I bat the blade out of the way, snapping it in half immediately. The edge sinks into my fingers, carving a deep gash into my hand but failing to cut bone. With two other arms I strike at Gina and Melik simultaneously, as they had the poor sense to stand close enough to each other to allow it. I dig my talons back into the earth, gouging huge tracks into the ground to slow myself down before impact. With my fingers—carefully, so I don't claw them—I place a hand on each of their chests, cushioning the blow with my arms rather than adding force to it. Still, I feel ribs crunch, and by the end of my movement I've sent them both sprawling across the courtyard, each crashing hard on the ground before rolling to a stop.

The crack of furious wind then catches up, shaking the whole barracks as it thunders past. Gina and Melik are sprayed with stones as I skid to a stop, my toes burning. Behind me, the ground where I started my leap is utterly shredded, a wave of dirt having slammed into the building behind me. The whole pell-mell certainly brings people running, and if not for the fact that I still had my tassets and greaves on I probably would have been assumed to be a wild vrothizo and cut down.

Suffice to say, my superiors are furious with me. With Harvey insisting that he isn't the one who caused the 'kynamancy explosion,' I start getting earful after earful. It goes on for over an hour. Don't fight outside of class, don't break bones, don't cause property damage, you should know better, we were promised you had more self-control… it mostly washes over me. I just spend the whole time clutching my bandaged fingers and ignoring that little voice in my head that reminds me I'm still bleeding, so I should kill them all.

Humans are fragile, after all. Without Galdra to stop me, I could do it.