Something special…..

Words, simple with their statement, yet carrying a spark of excitement. It was the way he had said them that had captured me. Talen was not one for expressing himself with emotion. The child warrior was one of cold detachment or explosive rage. Sometimes, and rarely, he would show something else. Something akin to joy.

I loved and hated Talen, as he loved and hated himself. It had been nearly a year since I had left my life to follow him, and My Lord became that moniker. He was just as cold as ever, just as hard to read and harder to like. Sometimes I wondered about his time with the Ixian Knights. I knew that he wasn’t always so cold. He never spoke of it without sadness in his words, and those were few and far between.

So when we headed to the Citadel with those words, something different leading us forwards, I was hesitantly curious.

* * * *

The Citadel was as imposing as always. Large grey stones locked together to form the huge walls that rose into the sky as a symbol of man punching the heavens.

“Ana, come on,” said Talen with a flicker of impatience.

I tore my eyes from the impressive structure and followed Talen through the large double doors. Stepping into the inner hall my eyes adjusted to flickering candle light and what little sun streamed through the large stained glass windows high above me. Hundreds of humans and dozens of the other races were walking or waiting as the monks sorted through the huge numbers. Today seemed like it was busier than normal and I had to force my way through the press of bodies after My Lord’s small frame as he darted nimbly forwards.

I burst out of the crowd and paused to adjust my cloak that had been nearly pulled off. Talen had made his way towards one of the many corridors that continued the fighting rooms. I followed, and soon we found ourselves through a door and suddenly outside. I was never quite sure about the magic of the Citadel. Perhaps we were still inside trapped in some reality bending illusion, or perhaps we had been transported far from the Citadel.

The arena was relatively simple. A large sandstone platform sat bathed in mid-morning sunlight and surrounded by high public viewing seating of the same stone. I say relatively simple, as the platform was ringed with a large body of water that formed a clear blue iris to the platform’s pupil.

I took a seat in the stands, a lone black figure cast against the yellow stone. Talen walked along a small wooden bridge that had been lowered to allow the fighters to get to the platform. My Lord had dressed in his usual black t-shirt and pants and his pale skin and dark attire seemed out of place bathed in light. Like the child he was, his messy black hair caught and flicked across the light breeze. His face carried a smile, and I could almost believe it was real.

Show me, I thought, what’s so special?