Shadow of the Abyss

The look Ashara had garnered from her Master nearly turned her bones to water as he dropped from his carriage. She could have kicked herself for listening to Gremory for what discord she had caused between Altair and her. Two Months. For two months, he had not touched her, but he had that hussy Elena, whose cunt was probably dryer than a desert. She surely couldn't compare to her. A Lilm.

'So why?' the thought came harder each day. 'Why not me?' she forced herself to smile her most elegant gesture and bowed. "My Lord."

"Ah, Tasha," he said in that flat palatine accent. She doubted he was even aware of how much his mannerisms were shifting. The man certainly had the bearing of a king, more so now than he did a few months ago. "You'll be my acting Sword Maid for the time. You are not to move unless Raven instructs you to."

Ashara lifted a brow. It had been a while since she acted in any formal position other than his receptionist. Perhaps this was a way to get into her Lord's good graces. She had betrayed him, she had realized, or at least the closest thing to it. Still, she never thought he would be so… petty. It wasn't as if he didn't know she served two masters.

She had pretty much said it to him before. Even if she was his, both in body and Soul, she had no choice when it came to Gremory.

"I will not fail you, my Master."

Hefting Atelia from the carriage, Altair glanced to the third carriage and beckoned to his two Forsaken, Annya and Ilva. "Go purchase some wine for my Master. She likes bold, rich flavors. Find a vendor and purchase all that you can. Then pick up some sweets for Medusa and Atelia."

"I'm fine, your grace," Medusa said demurely, though the woman certainly looked pleased.

Altair ignored her, "And if you find something you like, get something for yourselves." Finger to lip, he grinned. "Just don't tell the others."

The two forsaken women flushed like two little girls learning to torture their first demon, bowing their heads as they ran off with the Sigil of House Nier.

Refastening the strings of Gram to her sword belt, she fell to Altair's heel, a perfect ten paces away. If he needed her closer, he would signal for her.

The Calmardian Academy was grand for a mere school outside the heart of the Dutchy, waving bright, crisp colors as the draw bridge opened to welcome them. Across the portcullis, the Dutchess walked smoothly with the Old Duke, unable to hide the excitement in their step.

Ashara couldn't understand their excitement. The familiar binding of a family made as much sense as the dung eaters in the hells. In the hells, the linking of blood is only related to one's position. There wasn't any obligation to love their progeny. If anything, many of the Kings and Princes held them to a higher standard.

The defeat of anyone with royal blood at their hands, those who held no such blood, meant a true death. Such a dishonor simply couldn't be accepted. And would not. That was a rare occurrence, of course, but it had been known to happen.

Love for one's progeny was not unheard of but extremely rare. Some often called it a myth. In all her time in the hells, Ashara had never seen it before, nor did she want to.

"Headmaster!" The Dutchess said in a smooth voice once they had been led inside the massive castle, acting like an academy, to his office. The interior seemed very well lived in. Hundreds of pictures of children, finger art of those, Ashara was sure the parents would consider talented when, in fact, it was random scribbles rested along the wall.

It took an effort not to throw up in her mouth. An even greater effort to keep her facial muscles still.

'Would it not have been better to burn the pictures to show the children their lack of talent? I see why women aborted their bloody bastards. If I had to look forward to this, I'd do the same.' Of course, her child with Altair would not be so pathetic that they would bring home such… filth. Of that, she was sure.

The headmaster was a young man who carried an ethereal look that suggested they were older than what most could perceive. Ashara herself was a little older than two thousand years old. A youngling by any estimation.

"Dutchess," The Headmaster bowed. "And if it isn't that old bastard, Elgar. How've you been, old friend? You look like shit, by the way. How long are you going to keep up the old man act? Huh?" He glanced at Altair.

"Is this your grandson? I'd heard he'd fallen a few levels in cultivation, but heavens… are you sure? I can feel his power. He's at least an eighth circle, possibly ninth."

"You flatter me, Lord Symar."

It couldn't be helped. Ashara had to look at Altair. Symar Alivatar was the old hero of Almore, one of the True Demi-Gods, half a step into the realm of Deva. Even with her ability, Ashara wasn't sure she could escape if he were to suddenly turn on them. So why hadn't she been informed? Had she lost so much of his favor?

"Hardly." Symar continued seamlessly, turning an eye towards her. And a cool wave passed through her body, turning her ligament to ice. She frowned, pushing away his Divine Sense with a push of her soul, lest he learn something he shouldn't.

If Symar were perturbed, his counterness did not reflect anything but his formal smile.

"Do forgive my Tasha," Altair cut in flatly. Despite his neutral voice, he did not seem pleased. "She's a rather private person."

"Of course," Symar said, though he made no apologies. Instead, he began to drone on, "So you've come for Noct? The boy is certainly remarkable. He just broke through into the Second Circle just the other day. And is capable of casting second circle spells…"

Ashara welcomed the knock that echoed on the door. She could feel a flicker of killing intent. A flicker of something hateful that was hidden so quickly it seemed like nothing. No one else had seemed to notice, not even her master. Perhaps he was not as sensitive to killing intent as she was.
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As the door opened, Raven ushered the stranger in with a cold expression. A somewhat handsome man with a cold look on his face. The ice, however, melted at the sight of Symar like it never existed. On his heel, a little boy of no more than four. A small little thing. Noctis De Nier.

"Brother! Mother, Grandpapa!!!" The boy flew into a run, leaping one to the other like a Hell Leach, planting a kiss on each of them. The Old Duke practically melted, hugging the little man tightly.

"How are you so strong? And Second Circle! At age four. That is practically unheard of.." The Old Duke exclaimed. "And a little concerning."

"I thought so, too," Symar said smoothly. "But it would seem he obtained enlightenment in the Dao of Darkness."

Ashara had to look at the boy deeper. Darkness was a very noble Element if it could be considered an element. Her Master himself hadn't much interest in Heavenly Dao, focusing on the Mortal Dao of the Sword, but he had a very high affinity for darkness. The highest Ashara had ever seen. Though, now that she thought of it, most of his spells had been related to the element of darkness.

Perhaps he was comprehending the Dao of Darkness. If he could integrate his knowledge of that particular dao into his swordsmanship or, god forbid, his spells, then he'd be unstoppable in his realm.

The thought made her loins hot and her eyes fiery. And then sad that her Master had refused to touch her. 'Perhaps he'll forgive me if I give him my true name.' she shuddered to think of such a thing.

"And this is," Symar was saying, "Professor Adel, one of our finest. It was he who recognized Noctis' talent towards the Darkness. One of his lessons seemed to sing to the young master that he suddenly started glowing, and boom, he awakened, climbing to the peak of the first circle. I, of course, helped him grind some monsters. Nothing hard or too bloody that would scare the boy's psyche."

"Ah! He's pretty!" Atelia pointed out. She hopped from down Altair's arms and stood a head taller than Noctis. "And short!"

"I am not short!" Noctis retorted. "And who are you!"

"I'm Papa's daughter!"

"Well… I'm his little brother!"

"Then that must mean Atelia is your Aunt! Call me, Aunty!" The little kitsune said with open defiance. Clearly, not aware of what it meant to be an Aunt. And it seemed like none of the others had the heart to tell her the truth.

Noctis snapped his small face to Altair. "Big brother, is that true! Is she really your daughter? Do they grow so quickly!"

"I watered her very well," he explained it, and Atelia nodded.

"Atelia is like a flower. That's also why she's prettier too!"

None of the adults could back their smile. Even the dutchess had to chuckle at that one. She had taken up a liking to Atelia despite her dislike of Altair.

"Medusa. Can you take care of the kids? I'm sure they'd love playing outside." The serpentine woman bowed, pulling the two babes out of the room despite their sudden protest. When the room was silent again, Altair turned to the Professor with a noble smile, offering him a hand. "From house Nier to you, we'd like to thank you for all that you've done for Nox. Enlightenment is no easy feat."

"It was my pleasure," Professor Adel said, accepting his palm.