components; stones, rods, and metals. An
experienced Nightwalker can imbue stones with his or her
essence.
He skipped ahead, quite aware of the
general definition of a Nightwalker. As the passage began to delve
into the mental effects of magick, he found himself caught up in
the words again.
Their minds can be warped
by the magick they possess, rendering the mind feeble and weak.
Magick is said to addle the brain so profoundly that Nightwalkers
are more susceptible to psychiatric disorders such as dementia or
psychopathy. A growing number of mages have been confined to
lunatic asylums where they are closely monitored.
Reportedly, scientific
studies have been conducted to “remedy” the patients. Procedures
designed to deprive a man or woman of magick have proven widely
unsuccessful because no one can pinpoint the source of magick.
However, all studies indicate that magick damages the brain of the
host, much like a parasite. Crime has become increasingly prevalent
in their kind.
Arxu’s eyes continued to scan the text,
hungrily devouring the pages. One word flickered before him that
sent him clawing through the book for answers.
Excommunication.
The word leaped off the page, striking
a cord in him as forcefully as if he walked into a wall.
The ritual of
excommunication is performed in the presence of Umbra, the matron
of the Nightwalkers. The exile is subdued with a combination of
opium and mandrake to reduce pain.
The mention of drugs brought a flicker
of attention to Arxu. He vaguely remembered the smell of opium, but
he couldn’t recall where. Furthermore, he wondered what “pain”
exiles were subjected to. He turned the page.
Only the most scorned and
criminal exiles are summoned to the lunar sanctuary to be
“branded.” The individual’s hair is dyed with blue indigo, and
their skin is imbued with a similar pigment.
Arxu reached for his sleeve and slowly
pulled it past his elbow. His white skin gleamed in the faint
light, exposing the markings that snaked like tendrils across his
arm. He tenderly touched the discolored skin as if he expected it
to hurt. He lowered his gaze to the page once more.
A Nightwalker is subject to exile
for— the book slipped from Arxu’s fingers. The ancient tome
slammed against the ebony tiles, dozens of pages exploding from its
weak frame, spilling over Arxu’s feet. He gawked at the empty space
with a dreamy expression. He stepped away from the book as though
it would rise up and assault him.
—for murder, torture, or
rape.
He swept away. He couldn’t tell Nishka
about this.
No one could know the secret of his
past life. Perhaps authorities were searching for him to render
punishment for a heinous crime he couldn’t remember committing.
What kind of man was he before he died?
As he stole out of the library and
walked through the flaming courtyard, he wondered which crime
stained him.
Chapter 12
The night was dimly lit in the arena as
great braziers glowed above. Enormous tiers towered within the
amphitheater, devoid of audience.
Rafael, an elite ambassador, followed
his escort toward the center of the arena. His personal bodyguards,
two armed men recently discharged from the military, accompanied
him. Clad in scarlet robes and silver rings, Rafael looked out of
his element in the sand-blasted arena. Only the most abominable
creatures or criminals drudged through these sands before they
inevitably died.
He had never attended the amphitheater
games. He felt that the spectacles here reminded him too much of
his childhood home. Rafael smelled something pungent near him, and
he stepped over a body in the sand. Disgusted, he tried to block
out the stench and focus on the task at hand.
A hooded figure adorned in a cloak
stood in the sands of the amphitheater, patiently awaiting. He was
said to be the battlemaster of the arena. His prowess was often
discussed with great praise by soldiers and commoners, reputed to
be one of the most skilled combatants in
experienced Nightwalker can imbue stones with his or her
essence.
He skipped ahead, quite aware of the
general definition of a Nightwalker. As the passage began to delve
into the mental effects of magick, he found himself caught up in
the words again.
Their minds can be warped
by the magick they possess, rendering the mind feeble and weak.
Magick is said to addle the brain so profoundly that Nightwalkers
are more susceptible to psychiatric disorders such as dementia or
psychopathy. A growing number of mages have been confined to
lunatic asylums where they are closely monitored.
Reportedly, scientific
studies have been conducted to “remedy” the patients. Procedures
designed to deprive a man or woman of magick have proven widely
unsuccessful because no one can pinpoint the source of magick.
However, all studies indicate that magick damages the brain of the
host, much like a parasite. Crime has become increasingly prevalent
in their kind.
Arxu’s eyes continued to scan the text,
hungrily devouring the pages. One word flickered before him that
sent him clawing through the book for answers.
Excommunication.
The word leaped off the page, striking
a cord in him as forcefully as if he walked into a wall.
The ritual of
excommunication is performed in the presence of Umbra, the matron
of the Nightwalkers. The exile is subdued with a combination of
opium and mandrake to reduce pain.
The mention of drugs brought a flicker
of attention to Arxu. He vaguely remembered the smell of opium, but
he couldn’t recall where. Furthermore, he wondered what “pain”
exiles were subjected to. He turned the page.
Only the most scorned and
criminal exiles are summoned to the lunar sanctuary to be
“branded.” The individual’s hair is dyed with blue indigo, and
their skin is imbued with a similar pigment.
Arxu reached for his sleeve and slowly
pulled it past his elbow. His white skin gleamed in the faint
light, exposing the markings that snaked like tendrils across his
arm. He tenderly touched the discolored skin as if he expected it
to hurt. He lowered his gaze to the page once more.
A Nightwalker is subject to exile
for— the book slipped from Arxu’s fingers. The ancient tome
slammed against the ebony tiles, dozens of pages exploding from its
weak frame, spilling over Arxu’s feet. He gawked at the empty space
with a dreamy expression. He stepped away from the book as though
it would rise up and assault him.
—for murder, torture, or
rape.
He swept away. He couldn’t tell Nishka
about this.
No one could know the secret of his
past life. Perhaps authorities were searching for him to render
punishment for a heinous crime he couldn’t remember committing.
What kind of man was he before he died?
As he stole out of the library and
walked through the flaming courtyard, he wondered which crime
stained him.
Chapter 12
The night was dimly lit in the arena as
great braziers glowed above. Enormous tiers towered within the
amphitheater, devoid of audience.
Rafael, an elite ambassador, followed
his escort toward the center of the arena. His personal bodyguards,
two armed men recently discharged from the military, accompanied
him. Clad in scarlet robes and silver rings, Rafael looked out of
his element in the sand-blasted arena. Only the most abominable
creatures or criminals drudged through these sands before they
inevitably died.
He had never attended the amphitheater
games. He felt that the spectacles here reminded him too much of
his childhood home. Rafael smelled something pungent near him, and
he stepped over a body in the sand. Disgusted, he tried to block
out the stench and focus on the task at hand.
A hooded figure adorned in a cloak
stood in the sands of the amphitheater, patiently awaiting. He was
said to be the battlemaster of the arena. His prowess was often
discussed with great praise by soldiers and commoners, reputed to
be one of the most skilled combatants in
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