(Please note that this is the second chapter of a book that is currently being edited and is in the final editing stages. Changes can still be made before the final release.)

Warning: Genre is Dark Fantasy- Horror/Thriller, swear words can be present. Take this as your warning.

Chapter Three
The square training room had wooden weapons racked on the sides. The floor was soft sand. It was strange to walk in because the sand automatically smoothed itself any footprints. Today was a one-on-two match. I chose one side of the room while Genevieve and Sword stood on the other.

“I’m so glad we are done with the whole learning, reading, and lecturing thing.” Sword tested the weight of the wooden sword in his one hand.
Genevieve held two shorter swords that could easily be passed off as daggers.

“Today we are starting with combat training. There is a real possibility that you might teach me a thing or two.”

“So, you’re going to use your powers?” Genevieve studied the sand that shifted into place, erasing her tracks. “Or are you going to let this Library do everything for you?”

Sword grinned and readied his weapon before him. “Except that one time when I walked in while he was bathing and the door slammed shut so quickly, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the Library.”

They shared a laugh.

I lifted an eyebrow as I removed a large wooden staff from it. “There are many fighting styles. Demon-inspired are excellent for killing humans but always end up sup-bar against a demon. Angel-inspired is aimed at killing demons, but they allow you enough time to stay your weapon if you face a human. Cloak-inspired is deadly in killing demons, humans, or witches. The witch’s style can be grouped with those originating from the gods. These allow the fighter to draw and manipulate their environment through Alhalma.”

I gripped and released the staff before leveling my gaze on the two of them. “Over the past months you revealed your obscure version of fighting styles. You now have all the knowledge you need to understand how I operate.”

“The traveler’s style, Ikulme.” Sword took a few steps closer and Genevieve did the same. “I read about it. It’s by far the most unpredictable style but often the least efficient.”

I encouraged him to continue.

“Because the traveler has so many endless possibilities, the three who existed before you each favored a limited number of attacks. Because they often won with those, they were often beaten by skilled warriors.”

The grin on my face widened as I planted the staff in the sand before me. “Good, now that you know that. You should have no problem defeating a traveler like myself. I am, after all, according to the books that you studied, without imagination when it comes to fighting.”

Genevieve peered over at Sword and slowly shook her head. “No, you grew up in harsher circumstances. The first traveler was revered and treated like royalty. The second was trained with angels and kept with them. Hawk’s an example. There isn’t much human interaction skills you learn from that. The third kept to herself. They were not without imagination but lacked the training to survive. Seth, however, had to survive throughout his life.”

Sword gave a mock attack which I dodged. “That gets me all excited as I have fought…an older you.”

He sprung to attack, moving as fast as the sand would allow him. He only changed his weight and footing when he was close enough to strike a blow. The energy inside of me slowed time, enough for me to move back and drive my wooden stick toward his chin. I change my top grip and forced the staff down from his chin to his chest. With a push forward and stepping past him, I used my hip to throw him off balance. The man fell backward over my knee with my staff on his chest.

“If I call upon fire now, your brains would be fried,” I mocked them as Sword propped himself up with his arms.

Genevieve dipped to her knees, her blades a flurry of attacks that were aimed at my vital spots. She caught me off guard. I slowed time again, giving me a chance to calculate and catch an opening. I had to be careful not to make my body move faster than expected as I rolled over my staff. My grip was wrong, and the staff slipped from my grasp. Genevieve used Sword’s chest to launch herself at me. The man got to his knees after acting as a spring board for the woman. With my mind working faster than theirs, I watched her sail toward me. A mistake on her part when I used Ikulme to push her. She slid over the sand to the other side. I summoned the staff to my hand and stood up with it pointed at her across the room. In the corner stood the being that haunted me whenever I used the power of Alhalma. I swallowed some spit and stepped back.

“That’s enough,” I commanded and watched the figure in the corner vanish.

“What is your secret?” Sword picked up his blade.

“What do you mean?” I played dumb, wanting to see if they could figure it out. “You studied how the unseen powers work, how demons, angels, and witches use Alhalma to shape the physical to their will. How do you think I did it?”

“You only used your powers once when you flung me across the room.” Genevieve strolled toward me while fixing her hair.

I glanced at the corner, making sure the being was gone. Sword frowned and followed my gaze. I would have to be more careful.

“The most dangerous attack is the one you don’t foresee,” Genevieve said. “I don’t see how you beat us.”

“I can use the Alhalma to my advantage. When I first learned I was a traveler, two demons attacked me. They wanted to…take my youth. When they chased me, I created a bubble that suspended them in the air. Time froze everything in that bubble. With a snap of my fingers, everything around me erupted in flames. I slipped into Alhalma. But I used too much power for my physical body and collapsed after that. When I came to, the forest was burned. The demons were ash.”

“Time, shit, that’s obvious.” Genevieve’s brow furrow when she stole a glance at Sword. “Imagine us training with blades but moving at a snail’s pace.”

Sword spat out the sand that had gathered in his mouth and cursed. I held my laughter when the sand spat his spit into his face. He grumbled and wiped his face.

“The Library doesn’t like spit on the ground.” After a good laugh, I faced them. “Think of the nature of the thing you’re fighting. Humans are strong with their physicality. That’s all they can rely on. Demons thrive on the grotesque and evil. Expect that, horror and shock. Angels, even though they’re on our side, they fight with duty and honor. Witches want power, so assume flashy attacks. Travelers, well, we weave through time in our dreams. We should have mastered that and space in our fighting. Big words aside, the nature of things reveal their weakness.”

“That’s how you beat me, you bastard.” Sword clenched the hilt of his wooden blade. “We learned how to fight, spar, and find weaknesses. The nature of something also gives it strength. We call it the double-bladed truth.”

I strode to the door. “Now, if you will excuse me, it’s time for Timothy’s reading lesson.”

I found the boy sitting with the book on his lap at a fire in the hall. He was reading on his own. A sad tightness grew in my chest as I watched the lonely child. The last few months were tough on him. He didn’t have friends to play with except for Hawk that would change into the form of a child so that Timothy didn’t feel too alone. This was at my request, but the angel had limited understanding of how human boys worked. I left it to Hawk to teach Timothy how to use a blade. The boy’s martial form was near excellent. It was the only time he had that resembled play. When I approached, I focused on his muttering words as he attempted the words on the page.

“Seth?” He closed the book and checked the large doors. “Can we visit the statues again?” He stood to grab my hand that I held out to him and tugged me to the doors.

“What did you learn about the unseen today?” I asked along the way.

“It has four different states and is called the Alhalma.”

“Five,” I said.

He peered at me with a furrowed brow. “No, there’s the light, the dark, the pure, and the evil.”

“There is also the neutral.” I studied the many painted faces hanging on the walls. I’d focused on his training in the unseen as quickly as I could. When we visit the city in a few months, I intend to return him to his mother. It is good for a child to train for a war he might have to face when he is older.
Training in a Library would only do so much. Without his mother, he wouldn’t learn the balance between joy and despair, love and hate and the reason for his fight.

The doors parted at my touch and revealed the hall with statues. The boy ran to Adam’s statue first. I joined him.

“To Sandra and Timmy, I love you.” Without glancing at the plaque beneath the statue, he read out of memory. He reached for my hand again. When I took it, he scuffled himself closer to me. His body warmed my right leg. No, it wasn’t good for a boy to grow up in the Library alone. When I take him home, he should be able to defend himself against any attacks from the Alhalma, and that was all I needed of him. If I closed the gateway, he wouldn’t need to fight.

“Will you be a statue too one day?” he asked me as he ushered me to the other statues. He would inspect each one with great interest.

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you wear your crimson cloak?” Another question Genevieve and Sword had asked.

“Well, it’s like this. Timothy. In my last battle, I lost a girl whom I adored. She died in front of me, and I’m still bitter about it. After that, I came here, and I challenged Ulhezaoi to explain to me why she had to die.”

His eyes widened. “Did It answer?”

I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling then to him. “Yes. When I was younger, Ulhezaoi would often appear to me as an animal with three heads. It told me that this was my tale and that questions like those are the reason we have to suffer, to learn.”

“That’s not a proper answer,” Timothy groaned.

I gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I guess not. Anyway, It told me that was the last time It would appear to me. It was time I lived this life along with other humans.”

“Were you not living with them?” the boy asked.

I shook my head. “I lived among them, but I would run to the forest whenever I could. I’d search for the Maker there believing that people were a waste of time.”

Timothy tried to hide a sniff before his eyes glazed over as he stared at the distant wall. He often wore this expression after hearing the tales of the heroes.

A frown deepened the shadows on his face. “Isn’t that what you did in the years you were locked in here with an angel?”

I took a moment to process the question. He was right, but I wouldn’t have put it in those words yet. There was a moment of silence before I glanced at him then went down on one knee. I admired his darkened skin and blond hair. He had Sandra’s dark blue eyes. I ruffled his hair before trying a smile.

“Keep that kind of thinking and you will be wiser than most men.” I paused for a while. “Travelers too, but with only four of us, there’s not much competition.”

His eyes got teary, and he jumped in to my arms, his hands worming their way into a hug. I was taken aback before returning the hug and lightly pressing my lips to his hair. I hated caring this much. It summoned memories of Lucy, who died much younger than him. The tears welled in my chest. I wanted to push the boy away, but his hug tightened. I was frozen. I remembered her last smile when she gave me a little weed crown to wear, her freckled face and curly red hair, the warmth of her eyes.

“Timothy.”

I recalled her little body against mine as she wormed in next to me at night when she was alone or the joy in the way she ran with a skip in her step.

“Timothy.”

The song she used to sing carried on stray breezes while I made food for us. Her squeals that had cut through the air when I’d swallowed the fish’s eyes while gutting them. What haunted me was her lifeless body in half, a clean cut from a demon, from the top down. The two halves lay open, spilling her insides. The lively girl was dead. I tried knitting her together with Ikulme. So much blood coated the ground, my clothes, my hands when I held her, as if she would magically become whole. I couldn’t line up the face quite right, but that hadn’t mattered.

“Seth?”

My head hurt when my cheeks twinged with my jaw unlocked. The images continued, Cindy stood a bit off with her dark Vuloptian skin and her copper-red hair. Her eyes were filled with sorrow, as if she wanted to say sorry. I gave up at that moment. I bowed, removing my cloaking as Ikulme inside of me went wild, trying to knit or heal Lucy. I threw the cloak over her and allowed myself to hold her while sobbing into the fabric. Tears and blood mixed when I tried to wipe the wetness off my face. A glow yellowed the bright red of her blood. When I turned to see where the glow came from, Adam, in pure golden light, was in the air fighting against a giant of a demon wielding a black bow. Adam won.

“Seth?”

I whipped my head up. Timothy stood before me. My knees were on the cold floor, and tears streamed down my face. I had to pull myself together and force my aching legs to move.

“Your mother told me we won. She was crying too. She asked me to stay and help care for you. I couldn’t.” My lower lip stung when I bit into it. The child’s face was frozen with thin lips and wide eyes.

I took a breath and flicked the tears aside, checking for blood mixed into them.

I tried a smile again and ruffled his hair. “Sorry, kiddo, I haven’t been hugged in quite some time.”

His face relaxed. He peered past me at the Library. “I can see why.” Then, as if in an afterthought, he asked, “Are you okay?”

I thought about the being that appeared and challenged me whenever I used my Ikulme. “Yeah, you fighter. I’m fine. Adults shouldn’t lose their cool like that in front of kids. It can be quite scary, am I right?”

He took my hand. “Now, I know what you are feeling.”

He left me in the hall with the statues. Heroes who had fought and died by the golden glow, the Azortilmu. Heroes who’d abandoned us, the living, with the pain and suffering in the aftermath of the battles. Who was more blessed, those who’d survived, or those who’d died?
When I returned to the Library, Timothy watched me while the books flew around the room.