Wielding
Aura

"Sashta! Saaaashta!" Urgent bellowing of my name reached me, bouncing between mountain rock and the smattering of brick-block houses, but from where...?

Moonlight glinted off the blade as I turned. Keeping my body calm from teeth to toe, I opened my mind, absorbing all sounds, smells, and shadows.

The air was cold and dry; if I remembered the textbooks correctly, sound could travel far in this environment. Red, help me, will you? I said in my mind to my blade.

Straightening like a pillar, extending my arm, sword-pointing like a compass. I rotated steadily, and a soft glow appeared before a thin, fleeting beam of light shot forth.

That way! Towards the ruins! The chill night air whipped over my bare arms, slipping through my baggy sleeves, but the bands around my shoulders held the tunic closed, stopping the cold from reaching my core.

The soft earth, littered with palm-sized, razor-edged rocks, felt treacherous under my boots but still gave me enough grip to sprint. "Falling would eliminate that smattering of facial hair," the ponderous blade's echo sang through my mind. Shut it, Red!

On the opposite side of the gorge, about a third of the way down the sheer wall, was Roguer, another Wielder. What was he doing this far from the capital?

Instead of being bathed in the darkness of night and shadow, he stood illuminated at the edge of a tunnel, an abrupt exit from the underground ruins. A light emanated from the bottom of the gorge — his weapon!

From the darkness of the tunnel, the ghouls had amassed. So many — more than I'd ever seen in one place. Claws outstretched as far as the darkness allowed.

Flicker. The glow disappeared from the gorge for a moment. Then again.

The weapon's aura was fading!

Too far to jump. Time was running out. "Sashta!" Roguer's voice barely carried through the chaos, more of a grunt than a shout. He hadn't seen me yet.

I cupped my hands to my mouth. "Here!"

Roguer turned, just for a second, batting away a talon with his bare hands. His eyes found mine, relief washing over his face as hope returned. He swiped at another ghoul, keeping them at bay, their claws just out of reach of his face. "My boy! Help, would you? They've got me at an impasse." The words were half-shouted, half-laughed as he swung with renewed energy.

I wiped my palms on my baggy trousers, eyes scanning the chaos below. "Red's incoming! Watch your head!"

Ready for flight? I thought to Red, bracing for the familiar sensation whenever the blade spoke in my mind. As much as I had built a bond with it, I looked forward to a few minutes of peace once it left my side for a spell.

"Blood will be shed."

I took a deep breath, lifted the glowing sword high, and hurled it toward Roguer. The light trailed behind it, cutting through the air.

Adjusting my stance, holding the sword with both hands. The tip pointed to the ground, glowing faintly — one more breath. A yell of strength — I hurled the sword toward Roguer. For a heartbeat, everything seemed still — too still — the weight of Red leaving my hand as light burst from the blade and cut through the air, trailing behind like a promise of return.

THUD. The screams of ghouls pierced the air. Roguer crouched, crawling toward the sword's half-buried hilt, impaled into the ground, light bouncing around the cavern. The ghouls sizzled and fell, their bodies wilting as they staggeringly approached the tall man.

I hopped to a sitting position on the edge of the gorge, waiting in anticipation to see the Master Wielder in action. "As long as he didn't drop him too!" I chuckled uneasily.

Kicking my feet casually over the drop, I let my eyes settle on the hypnotic movements of Red being spun in elegant bright arcs of brutal sharpness. Despite the sweeping strokes of light blinding and causing the ghouls pain from its proximity, they still tried their onslaught, and they fell by the dozen.

It's odd that they're still heading towards the light.

"They must have something worse behind them."

A chill rippled down my spine, making my legs and arms stiffen with shock. I spun my head quickly to check around me and back to Roguer in disbelief.

Red?! You're still in my head?! But you're not in my hand! Not by my side!

The last ghoul fell at Roguer's feet, but even so, he backed up to the tunnel's edge hesitantly. Why was the sword's aura fading? He glanced over his shoulder at me, confusion flickering in his eyes before he turned back quickly.

Why were my hands glowing? I hadn't noticed when that started.

A giant ghoul, its face as large as the tunnel itself, slithered its way along the narrow passage, squeezing through the remaining space. The bodies of the smaller ghouls littered the floor, but they were no longer still. A forked tongue slid out, collecting debris and corpses, dragging them into its gullet with horrifying efficiency.

The light around Red flickered, barely holding, as the massive face drew closer. Maybe six feet from Roguer now.

He glanced at me again, desperation mixing with shock as his eyes widened. My hands were glowing steadily.

The aura around Red blinked out completely. Darkness engulfed the tunnel, except for the faint, eerie glow from my outstretched hands. Horror welled up inside me, and my arms stiffened as I held them out, willing for more from them.

"I thought you called me Blade in irony, knowing the weapon I am."

Roguer turned to me, his expression resolute. Noticing my glowing hands, he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, mouth slightly open as if about to question — but the creature was inching closer.

He laughed. Laughed.

Shaking his head, he raised the hilt of Red to his forehead in a final salute. Jumping to my feet, I finally found my voice. "Roguer. No." The creature's talons caught on the man's loose clothing.

Then, without hesitation, he twisted, shouting a battle cry — "Shine in darkness!" — and plunged the blade into the giant ghoul's face. The metal hissed and steamed, and the sword melted away with no aura to protect it.

The hilt was all that remained in Roguer's hand as he flailed, the talons clasping him fully. The creature's tongue lashed out, wrapping around his waist and pulling him effortlessly into its throat. The reverberating scream bounced around the gorge.

The silence that followed was worse than the screams.

"I am your aura, of course."

I gasped for breath, forcing my hands outward at the monstrous head. The light from my palms wasn't enough to do more than slightly agitate it. The creature shuffled backwards, retreating down the tunnel, but the damage was done.

NO! NO! Roguer... Red... Voice! What have you done?!

"You've been training with me all these years, and you do not know? Pity. We have a lot to do, you know."

Sobs still wracked my body with every step, but I forced myself down to the bottom of the gorge through the cliff paths, twists and turns. Roguer... Red... Their names echoed in my mind. The journey took hours, but time barely registered.

There it lay. Red's cousin, Scarlett — Roguer's blade — sliced clean through a granite rock where it had landed, point down, its aura still flickering faintly.

Why was my aura not in the sword?!

No response. No quip. Nothing came to me from the internal aura's voice.

I crouched and tentatively grasped Scarlett's hilt, pulling the blade free from the earth. I inspected it carefully. It was nearly identical to Red, except for the sigils near the guard — ones only those who had trained would recognise.

Roguer should not have been here. What was he trying to do? A foolish, reckless plan, no doubt. He always thought he could handle anything. I had accepted my fate here — why couldn't he.

I took a deep breath. Time. That's what I needed. The old sailor wouldn't know the difference between Scarlett and Red anyway.

When the sky began to lighten, I returned to the small mountain settlement. The village was already alive with its early morning bustle, my mind elsewhere.

The old sailor would be my first stop — convincing him to make the trip to the Capital wouldn't be easy. But he didn't need to know everything. Promises of ten times his fare would be enough.

"How are you gonna keep the ghouls away?" he asked, squinting at me as I approached. "Looked like you had a rough time last night, eh?"

I forced a smile. "The blade reached full aura. The ghouls are dealt with."

"That so? We haven't had that in a few decades. Difficult was it...?" His elderly face looked at me with sad, drooping eyes, reading into my dirt and tear-stained face the wrong conclusions.

"The aura's glow will be visible from the peak tonight — and every night for the next year," I confirmed for him.

The sailor smiled and nodded slowly. "I look forward to seeing that when I return. You are right; it best be straight off, or those capital rats'll be put out, won't they?"

I turned and left the sailor to make his preparations, trying to hide my unease at sending him into that nest expecting a happy recipient of his parcel.

I made my way toward the cliff's edge. There was no point in wasting time. "Aura," I said aloud, "let's begin."

Performing the kata without wielding a sword was like walking without toes — each step unstable, the absence glaring. A part of me was missing.

Each swipe, lunge, and arc felt foreign without the snap of metal ringing in the glowing aura air. Everything felt wrong. Even my breathing was off-kilter.

Thirteen years of focus on building Red's aura had been cut short. If I couldn't focus fully and conquer this aura, this would certainly be my last few days in the realm of the living.

Light defeats the nest ghouls, not blades.

My hand closed into a fist where a hilt should have been, but the air still shimmered with a golden glow trailing my punch-line. My arm ached for the sword's weight as I adjusted each movement to strike without it — but still build the Aura.

I may have had everything wrong. Maybe all Wielders did. But I needed this power to find the answers before the Capital went a step beyond my already tenuous half-exile to this forgotten place.

Dawn's mists shrouded the form-shifting human silhouette on the cliff's edge. The ocean spray didn't reach the jagged rocky heights, but dew-soaked leaves, falling from the steepled peaks above, sparkled as they danced towards our wake.

Steering the small rig along the coastline, I could still see his face in my mind — blank, save for a few tell-tale signs. The slightest crease between his brows, a fraction of pursed lips. "He's holding it down. It won't do no good." But the sea breeze did not reply.

The choppy waves jostled the boat and my aching joints as I steered into the wind, the cargo of a canvas-wrapped body and its metallic treasures bumping and jingling with every swell.

"We'll get you home, don't you worry," I murmured, crouching down to stroke the deep red sword case beneath the seat. My wrinkled fingers idled over the embossed sigils. Glancing back at the silhouette, I grumbled, "He thinks I don't know who yer are. But he needs help if he's given me that ol' rogue's blade. That pup was a nuisance in my day."

Face drooping, sadness welled up in the old sailor.

Ensuring the twine was pulled taut over the case and that no light was eking out. With a heavy sigh, I refocused on navigating the next bluff — and heading very far away from the capital.