A Green Sun Illuminates the Void
Chapter 1: And then, all was unfamiliar
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The sun shone down, from on high, down onto a field in Tristain. The chill of the morning was still barely present, although rapidly departing, and the faintest hint of dew was still present on the grass, which made the shoes on the feet of the gaggle of students and their teacher squeak slightly. But, still, it was a lovely spring morning, and the clarity of the sky above declared that it was only going to get more pleasant. There were birds on the field, tiny sparrows in the sun and a number of large grey cranes in the nearby pond. It was a lovely day for getting close to nature.
"Urgh," one of the boys said, staring down at his feet. "I think I've trodden in something."
"Well, then, Guiche, perhaps you should look where you are going, and not at the other girls then," the girl beside him, blond hair in ringlets, replied acerbically.
"Aww, Montmorency, my love, you know I only have eyes for you."
And, indeed, the gentle warm wind, when combined with the sun above, the hints of dew, and the rich earth below gave the perfect elemental correspondence for this day. It was the first day of spring, and thus, for the prestigious Tristain Academy of Magic, it was by some reckonings the most important day of the year. Today was the day when each student in the second year summoned their familiar, just as Brimir had, long ago, just as every mage did, just as had been done by every student before them.
Or, at least, every mage who had not dropped out of the Academy in utter ignominy. And for one Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière, this was a noted fear. It should have always been easy for her. Her bloodline was impeccable. Her genealogy could be traced back 600 years, and contained no commoners, none of the magic-less plebeians who might leave her weaker. Her family was one of the wealthiest in the nation; indeed, in the whole of the known world, rivalled only by the rumours of the decadent fortunes of the elves and of the strange lands, further east. Her mother was Karin, of the "heavy wind", and that alone spoke volumes of the skill that she should have. Only the royal lineage, carrying the blood of Brimir himself, held more potential.
And despite these things, despite every advantage, she was a failure. A weakling. A zero, as her classmates called her, lacking any skill at magic. They could fly; she could, at best, irregularly generate explosions, no matter what she was attempting. In a more normal family, there would have been the tag of 'bastard', but it was her mother who was the prodigy, and the family resemblance was clear. There could be no accidental swaps at birth, no adulterous affairs, nothing to explain what was so wrong with her.
It was just her. The failure.
The zero.
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Louise subconsciously shivered, and wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. She hated this, hated doing it in public. Why was it necessary to do it in front of others? Why couldn't they carefully take each student out on their own, give them time to get the summoning right, and then let them get to know their familiar? Certainly, she knew that others were afraid of getting something weak, inferior, or ugly. She envied them. They didn't seem to worry about nothing happening. Of course not. They didn't have to worry about what Mother would say or the look on Father's face or the slight sneer that Eléonore would have, or... or...
No. She took a breath, and steadied herself. Maybe she should have gone to bed earlier last night. But she'd stayed up so late pouring over the ritual, staring at it until it seemed that it was burned into the back of her eyelids and that she could see it with her eyes shut.
"Watch where you're going, Zero!"
Louise opened her eyes again, despite her desire otherwise. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she could pretend that everyone else had failed too, and she was going to be the first to succeed.
But, no, as student after student paraded through, with their incantations and their successes and their... okay, what was the thing with the eye? Well, maybe she didn't want one of those, thought it would be better than nothing, but, still, she would like something like...
... she gritted her teeth. Damn that von Zerbst and her large-breasted ability to summon a salamander. It was probably a male salamander, wasn't it! Men and their stupid ability to fall for that Germanian... Germanian... argh!
Louise was aware that this was not the
most rational chain of thought she had ever had. It certainly wasn't jealousy... well, it was.
"Miss Vallière. It's your turn," her professor, Colbert, said. He was a good teacher, he was. She'd asked him so many questions in the run up to this, run over the procedure time and time again with him. He... he didn't treat her as some kind of magicless Germanian noble, who'd bought their way into a title, like some of the other teachers did. It wasn't anything overt. If it had been overt she could have done something. Anything. But it was just the glance out of the corner of an eye, the way that they pushed her away from further study when she really, really wanted to know, the faint sighs when she answered something correctly, as if they felt that this knowledge was going to waste by her having it.
It would be not inaccurate to say that this scion of the Vallière family was not the most happy person, from her constant litany of failures.
Colbert cleared his throat. "Miss Vallière," he prompted again, as above his head, a flock of birds cast a momentary shadow down across the field.
"Oh. Yes." She cleared her throat, and drew her wand. "Thank you."
"Zero attention span, too," someone said from behind her, and her knuckles whitened around the stick.
This was it, she thought, as she deliberately placed one foot after the other on the still-drying grass. This was it. Her last chance to do well. Her last chance to make Mother proud.
She took a deep breath, and knelt down with the chalk and the knife... knife... knife... aha! She ignored the giggles, and picked it up off the ground, where it had fallen out of her pocket. Carefully, slowly, laboriously, she marked the circle into the ground, taking it slowly and checking that all of the elemental correspondences were in place. And then she checked again, lips pursed, resisting the urge to scream, hide, whimper, or, more meaningfully, play with her hair. She ignored the flapping noise of something taking off from the pond; this was everything for her.
She began, with words that she had drilled herself on, over and over again. Each word was enunciated perfectly. Her wand motions were mechanical, drilled, elegant. This was the culmination of her life, her last change.
And all she got for it was another explosion. Not even a very large one; just a wispy shudder, that filled the air with dirt. An explosion, and the shriek of an injured bird.
Louise coughed, wiping her sleeve against her face, and recoiled at the thing before her. A large grey crane was spread on the earth before her, clearly in pain from the noise it was making. From the noise it was making one, maybe both of its wings were broken. But still... she had succeeded! Maybe not a manticore, like Mother had, or even a salamander, but a crane was a much better familiar than... than a frog, like what Montmorency
the Flood had! It was beautiful, controlled, a symbol of grace and elegance!
Quickly, as if this were a dream, she knelt down, and, calling upon the elements, wand in hand, she blessed her new familiar, sealing the contract as was customary, with a kiss to its head.
Nothing happened.
And the broken-winged crane lashed out at her, thrashing around on the floor, only hurting itself more, savaging her leg with its beak and sharp feet. She leapt back with a squeak, blood seeping from her torn leg, to land heavily on her behind, and scramble away in an undignified way that left both her hand and bottom wet and muddy.
There was laughter from behind her.
"Miss Vallière." She looked up, to see Colbert looking down at her with pity in his eyes. "That's... that's one of the school birds."
"B-b-but," she stammered, "I summoned it, right?"
He shook his head, slowly. "No. It was flying over, and... well, the explosion knocked it out of the air."
The laughter only grew louder, as she sunk down, tears welling up. No. She wouldn't cry. A Vallière didn't cry.
"Bird-kisser of zero!"
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with bird kissing!" snapped a boy, with a red face, his new starling familiar sitting on his shoulder.
"Yeah, but it's not her familiar. It's just a random bird."
"Maybe she just likes it."
Of course, a Vallière was also a proper mage, not some... some useless plebeian commoner like her who couldn't even do the most basic summoning. Welling deep in misery, she just stayed slumped down, tears running down her face. She knew she should do something. She knew that she should pull herself together, get angry, acknowledge the fact that Colbert was being nice, and telling her that she could try again when everyone else had their go.
It wasn't going to work. She knew it.
And after she had tried, again and again and again, after they had moved the poor, crippled bird from the circle and let her redraw it, after the morning dew had dried up and the auspicious signs had ended... well, even Colbert had given up.
The laughter had stopped. It had stopped being funny when the Zero couldn't even seem to be able to make her customary explosions, each time she had to restart the incantation because she broke down part-way through.
She would have taken their laughter if it would have just meant that she had succeeded.
"That's... that's enough," the teacher said, gently lowering her wand arm, after nothing had happened yet again. "Miss Vallière... please. I'm sure you'll be able to stay, and... certainly, your theoretical marks are good, and you can certainly put in the effort. And... well, maybe you'll be able to try again next year."
"Yeah," Kirche von Zerbst, said, any customary antagonism gone. "Maybe... maybe you're just a late bloomer. It doesn't mean that..."
There was a hate-filled glance, directed at the Germanian's chest. "Shut. Up."
"I didn't mean it that w..."
"Shut up!"
Drying her tears on her sleeves, Louise marched off, ignoring those of the others who tried to talk to her.
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She returned that night. It was going to be one of her last nights here, she knew. There was no way that she could stay here, not when the ignominy of her complete failure to even summon a familiar was taken into account. Before, at least, she had been able to keep going with the promise to herself that she would manage to get a familiar, to show them all. It was what she had orientated the last year around. And now... nothing. Just a vast, gaping void, a Vallière without magic. She would probably have to return home, to face Mother and Father and her sisters, and look forwards to a life as a noble without magic, like... like some Germanian. What could she even do?
That was why she had snuck back. The ceremony of summoning a familiar was never to be done at night; that was one of the single great rules. The elements were utterly out of balance, for the Fire of the sun was gone, and the Void of the night sky dominated, the mystical power that was not truly understood throwing the summoning out of synch. But she didn't care. They called her the zero, the nothing, the useless one. Well, let the Void take her, then! This life was akin to death, so why not take the chance that she might get a familiar? Why not.
Bending down again, like she had so often today, she began to mark the elemental pentagram in, in green chalk. She had the book, borrowed from the library, open in front of her, and she would make it perfect. You weren't meant to have the book with you, but... she didn't care. The people who'd put that rule in obviously didn't ever have to face the fact that their magic only blew things up, when it even worked.
It was ready. Under the light of the two moons, high above, she carried out the summoning.
And...
... nothing. No fire. No explosion. No creature from beyond tearing her apart.
Just... nothing.
Louise fell to her knees, staring into the night, and stayed that way for quite a long time. Even when he came to her senses, she barely retained the state of mind to smudge the chalk, which would blend in with the other circles.
She somehow felt that it would be appropriate for it to start raining, leaving her drenched to the bone, but the world wouldn't even give her that. It just stayed clear, calm, with a slight nip in the air from how early in the season it was.
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Her mood had degenerated into being truly vile by the time that she had made her way down to the kitchens. At this point, she hated the world almost as much as she hated her failures, so she was not exactly polite to the commoners down there, and the stammering, dark-haired maid who actually bought her the platter of food she demanded. Technically she wasn't meant to do such things, but the staff knew better than to argue with a mage and a noble who looked like that, and obviously the news of how much of a failure she was hadn't reached them yet. It was just as well. She should take advantage of the food here, which was, really, truly good, before she had to leave. And she was hungry; she had skipped lunch and dinner.
Knuckles white around the tray, she headed back up to her room, and...
"Hey, Louise, what're you doing with all that food?"
... after shooting a hate-filled glare at a darker-skinned Germanian, she stepped into her room, slamming the door behind her. And then she turned, grabbed a nearby piece of parchment, scribbled "DON'T EVEN KNOCK!" on it, and folded it over the door. 'That should show them!' she thought, as she locked the door behind her.
It was dark in her room, and with a frown, she put the platter of food down on the side, and clicked her fingers, bringing the magical light to life. And then she yelped. Because sitting, no,
lounging on the bed was... something. Something pink-skinned and hairless. Something with large dark eyes that left her feeling slightly hot under the collar. Something most definitely female, by the level of shockingly indecent levels of flesh exposed, and yet not human.
She yelped.
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"Now, please don't be like that," the thing said, rubbing its legs together sinuously, and propping itself up on its elbows. "I'm not going to hurt you." It grinned, a wicked little smile that revealed teeth made of brass. "Quite the opposite, actually."
"Wh-what are you," Louise barked, once she was sure that she wasn't going to collapse. She had her wand out, levelled between its eyes, with a hand which, to her credit, was only shaking a bit. She might not be able to actually do anything, but this thing wouldn't know it. "Own up! Who's painted themselves pink!" She glanced down at its chest. "Kirche! Get out of my room!" she hazarded.
The creature stood up, almost slithering off the bed, and smiled wider. Louise squinted. Was it... was it shifting in shape? Becoming taller, more muscular, more masculine.
Yes. Yes, it was.
"What are you?" she whispered, for a second time.
"I?" the now-male thing, still alien in colouration and features asked. Its accent, the way it pronounced the language of Tristain was exotic, foreign, formal, and oddly lyrical. "I have been given many names. Marisalon, Two Peaks, You, It, Thing." It paused. "I like Marisalon," it admitted. "One of my former masters gave it to me, and I liked her. But..."
"Masters." That one word sunk into Louise's head. "You're... you're a familiar!" she blurted out, her mind suddenly afire with hope and possibilities.
"I have been in the past," it... no, it was really a 'he' right now, said placing a hand over his right breast. "And," he looked down at her, "please, sit." He gestured her over to her own seat.
"You do not get to tell me to sit," she responded, pulling out the old Vallière imperious manner.
"Fine," the man-thing said, running a long-fingered hand over his head. There was something subtly wrong about the hand, Louise felt, with a shudder. Nevertheless, on reflection, it had been a long day, without enough food, and she was starting to feel faint. Slowly, in a manner which she hoped would convey that she was not doing it because she had been told to, she sat down.
"Sit!" she commanded, and indeed, the pink-skinned man obeyed, somehow managing to lounge on hard, cold tiles. Putting her hands to her face, she rubbed tired eyes, and retrieved the food. "So... you
were a familiar," she said, taking a drink, and trying to obscure her interest.
"Yes. Not at the moment, but I have been summoned before," the main replied, his dark eyes locked on her, in a way which felt... well, it felt adoring. Louise thought back to those nights, and those dreams of Viscount Wardes; there was more than a certain bit of him about that face. It wasn't anything she knew for sure, nothing concrete, but... she took another drink. Why, it was certainly getting warm in here. And that smell, that... she couldn't describe it, but it was
incredibly pleasant.
"Then... why are you here?" she asked, barely daring to ask the question.
"You called me," he said, simply. "From the depths of the Eastern jungles, where I was searching, drawn by... potential, I was called to you."
The pink-haired girl dropped her cup, with a clatter. It was a sign of the emotional conflagration within her that she did not even try to pick it up. "I... summoned you," she whispered. "I... it worked! It actually worked! I... I thought it had failed! I thought it was just another failure, that I was going... going to be..." she trailed off, taking a deep breath, and reasserting control. It wasn't done to show such weakness to a familiar. "The east?" she asked. "That would explain why you took so long," she remarked, trying to put this...thing onto a back foot. "I haven't ever heard of a familiar being called from beyond the lands of the elves."
"Perhaps." He shot a brass-toothed grin at her. "I do not pretend to be an expert on summoning."
"No. Of course not." Louise sniffed. "I'm the one who summoned you, of course. But," she said, a little more forcefully, "what are you? You don't look like anything I've ever seen before, and I looked through a lot of the summoning books, for previous familiars."
"Ah?" Two hairless brows rose. "That is unusual... ah, but of course. I suppose that your people are repressive. They keep you down, force you to comply to terrible expectations, that no... human, especially one as fair... no, beautiful... as yourself should have to follow." He shook his head, the long gold ear-rings jingling like bells. That was something that Louise had noticed; the man... woman... thing, on what fabric it had, was covered in small, noise-making things. It couldn't move without jingling. "Well that does not matter."
Straightening up, he fell down into a position of supplication.
"Respected one, I am of the neomah, who descend from the Weaver of Voices, the Indulgent Soul of the great Ligier,
fetich of the King, Malfeas! We are the crafters of flesh, the artisans of new life, and," he shot a gaze up at her, and she blushed, "we are the bringers of pleasure. For six hundred years I have lived, since I was crafted myself, and I have ventured unto Creation many times. I have served many of the children of the Dragons, and been the... familiar spirit of Cynis Saliza herself! I have gained rank, for the priests of Cecelyne judged me to be worthy of the rank of citizen, and I am
very good at what I do, fair lady."
"I...see," said Louise, who didn't. She knew that it was possible to get intelligent familiars, of course, but ones this... this human, yet obviously not so, and so
flirty and
attractive and... she hastily reached for her drink, only to find it on the floor.
"You bought me here, my lady," the pink-skinned man continued, "called me. And so I am filled with desire to help you, to aid you. I was called before the Endless Desert herself, the Lawgiver, and so was honoured to be sent out to find a worthy! Because," and he straightened up, to stand, and softly pad on bare feet over to her, running one gentle hand across her jawline. Louise just stared at him, much like a mouse before an oncoming tiger. "Because, I can help you so much, fair lady. I have met others like you. I have seen you, followed you, since you called. There have been others like you, others who despite their bloodlines and their education, do not, and cannot live up to the expectations that their families place on them, through no fault of their own."
"There... are others like me... in the east?" Louise said, slowly.
"Yes, in even the highest houses of House Cynis there are those who lack the gifts of their bloodlines." He sighed, languidly. "It is such a waste," he added, running one hand along her one, smaller, and less pink one. Now that she looked closer, she could see what was wrong with it; there were too many joints in the too-long fingers, and the nails were brass, just like his teeth.
"Stop it," she protested, and he immediately backed away, to kneel again. Louise began to feel more confident. Even without the familiar bond, it seemed that she had some control. Pushing her chair back, she stood, to look down on the figure. "Listen to me," she said. "You say that I summoned you?"
"You called me, yes. I was drawn here, by the burden of duty that I bear."
"And you have served as a familiar before? What happened to your previous masters?"
The man paused. "Ah. There have been many. Often, I have only been called for one night, or for a short time, to aid in the crafting of a child, and so I was dismissed at the end of the summoning. But my longest mistress, who I was... familiar with for one hundred and thirteen years, and who gave me the name Marisalon, she died when putting down a rebellion in the Scavenger Lands. Then the servants of the stars whirled me away, back to the great city in which I was made, to ply my trade ones more. I miss her, in truth, for she was," and the face and body shifted, becoming more feminine, as did the voice, "very fond of me."
The pink haired girl flinched slightly. "So..." she swallowed, "you have never murdered," she forced the word out, "any of your masters?" Part of her hated herself for saying that, was terrified that it might be offended and leave. But there were always tales, ones which Mother had told off Eléonore for telling her, of foolish, non-noble magicians calling up ungodly familiars, which then turned on them.
The now-female thing looked shocked. "Of course not," she said, sounding shocked. "I... I am of the neomah. We cannot break our binding, and nor will we, of our free will, engage in business which would lead to the death of one of the participants. That is not our way." It cleared its throat, bouncing slightly. "But, fair lady," she said, again, "listen to me. Accept me, and we will become closer than lovers," she rolled the last syllable, "closer than even a Sesseljae to that which is cleanses. I will give you power, fair lady. I watched, unseen, while I was too weak, while they tormented you. I watched them as they mocked you. And yet you can be strong. You know that, do you not? With me, they will never call you 'zero' again. All you have to do is make Creation right again, restore the ancient order. And that is not a wrong thing to do, is it? It is good."
The archaic formalism of the creature... of the neomah's speech called to her. "Yes," Louise said, jutting out her jaw. "And... you
want to be my familiar?"
"That and more, fair lady," the neomah said, the two dark eyes staring up at her.
Louise stared down, eyes narrow. "Then, yes. Just wait for a moment," she said, fumbling in a pocket for her wand, "and I can complete the contr..."
Her sentence was cut off, as the neomah leapt to its feet, in one flowing motion, and locked her plump lips onto hers, wrapping her arms tight around the girl. Any attempt at protest was muffled, as Louise found herself pressed up against the creatures scantily clad, and very warm, body, a sweet-tasting tongue forced between her lips.
And then the neomah came apart, its pink purple flesh suddenly no longer solid, and like a viscous fog, it solidified around the girl. Solidified into a cocoon, a chrysalis which resembled a nautilus shell, and seemed to be made of brass and fire.
The light in the room went out.
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