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Garden of Silk Ch13: Onyx Thread
🕑 Added 2025-10-13 04:49:45 +0000 UTCI bit down on my tongue to stifle any response.
“So, what did you do?” He circled me, looking up and down like he had some idea of what he was doing. When he poked my cheek, I jolted, barely avoiding biting down with teeth that should not have been there.
“Smooth skin, hmm. You don’t really look First Ring.”
Let him form his own conclusions. I huffed and looked away with averted eyes. The warring mess of instincts and training were giving me enough of a headache that I didn’t need to feign discomfort.
“That’s it, isn’t it!” He smiled wickedly; I couldn’t see it, but I could feel that haughty expression bearing down on me. “You’re not actually First Ring; you just found something to fake it! I must admit, Brother, that is a devious plan. But how do you know Father doesn’t keep track of every last elixir and scroll stored in the vault?”
I very nearly gave the game away when my lips twitched. Elixirs and scrolls? Does he still think our vault is full of them? I thought we’d grown out of that mentality a decade ago, but… Well, Shale had never been allowed into the vault.
He didn’t know it was less “Great Uncle’s Stone-Shattering Fist Technique” and more “Great Uncle’s Stone-Carved Vase.” Which worked excellently well for me.
When I turned to look from wall to floor, a shiver ran down my spine and my phantom legs twitched. Caught in my web.
“You know I don’t have to tell Father, Slate. I’m sure we could work something out.”
As if half the household won’t “know” by morning. It’s like he doesn’t realize the servants gossip.
“I-it was just a stepping stone!” The faux panic in my voice slid out like I’d spent years practicing theater. “A-and I’m First Ring now, really!”
“Oh? Show me.”
“Inside? Right now? I’ll damage something… I don’t have control yet.” I fixed my gaze on a part of the floor tile’s immaculate pattern and looked at him in my periphery. He wore a look of pity just as fake as my panic and shrugged lazily.
Please believe my stupid excuse.
“The servants can take care of that.”
At that, I lifted my head. “No. Father and Mother would be furious if I lost control and damaged something precious. I will show Father when he returns.”
“And I’ll make sure he knows what you took.”
“All that matters are results, Shale. I’ve achieved what is required of me as heir.” I straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath. “Thank you for your concern.”
I turned to walk away, but Shale jogged after me. “I’ll tell him. I really will!”
“Alright.” I didn’t look at him.
“You’ll get in trouble.”
“For accessing a vault I am allowed to utilize?” I side-eyed him.
Lower the value of the secret; leverage his impatience.
“W-well… If you spar with me, I’ll keep quiet!”
There it is. Both of my eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you will? Well, I suppose it would save some face. Very well.”
“Great!” He grabbed my arm.
Two things happened at once. Reflexively, I very nearly yanked my arm free. I also very nearly ripped my fake face off and bit down into his neck. Instead I spasmed, then swallowed.
“I’m tired, Shale. And scared of hurting myself or the estate. We can spar at dawn tomorrow.”
“Dawn?” he whined.
“Yes dawn, or would you prefer to wait until I’ve spent the day catching up on my work and speaking to Mother? Perhaps after I’ve had a long discussion with Father?”
“I guess I can get up at dawn.” He looked down at his shoes, and for just a moment, I saw my kid brother.
My partner-in-crime for sneaking rolls from the kitchen and climbing trees in the garden. Who thought I was strange for wanting my hair long and my robes soft, but hadn’t yet grown to judge me for it. The person who used to be my best friend.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Shale.” I turned and against all better judgment, pulled him into a hug.
“H-hey!” He put his hands on my shoulders, but didn’t push hard as he moved away. “We’re not kids anymore!”
I smiled sadly and walked away. “I know.”
“You’d better be there!”
I waved over my shoulder as I turned the corner to the hallway that led to my chambers. The rest of the walk, I schooled my face into a familiar sort of neutrality. The few servants I passed made note, then went back to their tasks.
Unlike Slate, I’d done a good bit of work to ingratiate myself to the estate’s staff. It only made sense to construct a good working relationship with the people who arranged all the elements that let my day-to-day move smoothly.
This also meant that when I asked to be alone upon entering my chambers and confirming the bath had been drawn, I was reasonably certain I would actually be alone. Well, that and I’d investigated and locked the spying passages in this part of the estate years ago. I wondered briefly if the inner sects had something similar, with cultivators spying on each other through cleverly disguised holes in the molding.
It felt wonderful to be back, with a steaming bath behind me and a silken bed awaiting in the next room. One little knot of anxiety wouldn’t abate, and it was staring me in the face. In my face, specifically, on the other side of this mirror.
I moved my lips, and the mirror image complied. Drawn tight and pale, they lurked under shaded eyes. My guise could even replicate the haggard look of someone without sleep. I ran a hand along my chin, feeling the unnatural smoothness as though through a thin glove. The jawline was different; just a little bit. My neck was smoother too, and there wasn’t a single hint of hair outside my brows and head.
Yet something still twisted in my gut when I looked at myself. A dull, familiar sort of pain that had only grown sharper these past few days. No compliments could sway it, no smooth chin could loosen that feeling and let it slide away.
When I finally tore myself from the mirror and slid into the rose-scented water, I very nearly tore my guise right off. In my own body, or close as I could make it, I couldn’t really feel the water. It felt like I was bathing in a skintight, waterproof suit.
Rather than look down at myself, I stared up at the patterned ceiling, following the steam as it drifted up and away. That same sort of haze followed me into bed.
Exhausted, Surrounded by satin, walled off by curtains, and staring up at the autumnal mural on the canopy roof, sleep refused to come for me. Worse, that interminable hunger crept its way into the back of my mind, begging me to tear free of this silken prison and hunt.
Left no other choice, I slipped back into my Garden and while away the hours arranging the flowers until I finally drifted away.
The soft knock of a servant woke me with a start. I’d already slashed through the canopy before I caught myself.
That will be difficult to explain.
“Thank you,” I called to the door.
“Young master?”
I coughed, realizing my voice hadn’t quite been my voice. “I’m still a little tired. Please inform Shale I will be at the training ground shortly.”
I waited until the footsteps had left my hall and the door out of my chambers had clicked shut before I released the breath I’d been holding. My hands were a little torn where black nails had punched through.
But my chest was still flat and broad, and a look in the mirror showed only what it ought to. Years of putting up with my insistence of self-dressing meant I was blessedly alone as I wrapped myself in a durable training outfit. Tighter than robes, it showed a bit more pinch in the waist than I remembered; I must have gotten thinner post-transformation. Looking at myself in the gray of my family, my thoughts drifted back to a too-small outfit tucked away in the back of my expansive, mostly empty closet.
But now was not the time—I’d slept long and would not dare keep Brother waiting.
Father hadn’t yet returned, and I’d heard nothing from any of Mother’s servants, so I remained unaccosted on my walk across the estate. Far above, clouds strolled by, tripping over the distant mountains to form what looked to be the season’s first snow. Cold, crisp air helped me focus my mind.
The single most important part of this spar was to lose. But it wasn’t that simple; it had to feel close enough to threaten, but not so close that it could have gone another way. Ages ago, I’d had some experience with this, but as Shale approached the age where forming his First Ring wouldn’t stunt his growth, I’d quickly found myself truly outmatched.
There was a secondary goal today as well: I had to demonstrate an external vitae technique. Not just that, I had to demonstrate an external vitae technique fitting for a Graystone. Rock, earth, perhaps gemstones if I’d inherited from Mother’s side.
Silk? No, that wouldn’t work as such.
But a fibrous mineral? It would fit my aesthetic of soft power. Something fitting to have practiced, learned, and honed at the Shimmering Shadows Sect where I’d trained with Azalea.
Truthfully, I’d not gotten so far as specific techniques, and there was nothing to say someone was bound wholly to an affinity or element of their choosing. Specialization was expected, but not at First Ring. To simply move a rock, or create a thread that plausibly fit the aesthetic of a cutting ore? That would do.
When I arrived at the training ground, Shale was already there. Unusual of him to be timely, let alone early. He must have been terribly bored these past few weeks; perhaps Father restricted him to the estate again.
“Slate!” He called out to me from the sandy ring as I lingered in the doorway.
“No training weapons?” I asked.
“You can have one,” he shot back.
I considered the rack just inside the door. Each would be able to withstand the forces at play, and each was dulled appropriately. My favorite sword lay in its holder, and I took it, the blade seeming a bit longer than I remembered. But it had the same balance, the same familiar weight in my hand.
Outside, a simple stone wall surrounded us, marked and chipped. More than my brother, the person who took my attention was sitting alone in the small seating booth. Mother had returned.
Garnet Graystone’s brilliant crimson hair was done up into her usual bun, with two thin trails framing her forehead, and she wore a refined-looking, dark-toned dress. She studied me with equally brilliant red eyes and a sharp chin, leaving no doubt as to her namesake.
“Mother returned early this morning, and when I told her, she immediately decided to watch,” Shale called, his voice bitter.
Her gaze drilled into me like it never had and I realized a similar feeling to when I’d fought Kobel, though this time I had a moment to process it. Too strong to be prey. Deceive, evade.
“Are you awake, Brother?”
I forced myself to look back at him, instincts bristling at the thought of ignoring something that could squash me. “I am,” I answered tersely.
“Ready?” He grinned wickedly, dropping into a fighting stance.
I nodded and matched, feeling suddenly unbalanced. “Yes. On your mark.”
I’d spent the morning anticipating how to intentionally lose to my brother and keep my facade intact. That line of thinking had been entirely unneeded, for one simple reason.
Shale had months of practice with his power; I didn’t.
At his go, he whipped his hand forward and ran at me. A spear of rock, more a bludgeon than Kobel’s blades had been, threw forward. In an instant, I had to choose between dodging and losing time to his incoming fists or trying to block.
I bent low, half-rolled and kipped up into a dash, tracing the ring’s edge as Shale swung at the tips of my hair. My blade clanged off his forearm.
He turned, gray rock coating his fists. “You just gonna run?”
Brute. He charged again and I spread my stance. One foot kicked dust, the other hit under his center of weight, and he rolled over me. Before I could pull away or strike, a rock-hard fist slammed me in the back and sent me rolling toward the middle of the arena. Shale teetered on the edge, but pivoted easily back inside.
“You alright?” He asked with a smile.
“Fine,” I responded as I stood up and checked my back. No tearing, good.
Already, I could feel the throbbing pain of his hit fading. And my vitae stores with it. If I could stop my body from wasting like that… We circled as I thought, and I dodged the few probing attacks he sent my way.
“Are you really First Ring, Brother?”
Shale charged behind his words, and I dodged again. This time, he caught me with a spike of rock up from the arena floor and I fell into a roll. In an instant, he was on me, raining blows as I struggled to get away, sword clutched in one hand.
For a moment, I slipped into my Garden.
Sustainability. Storage.
At the base of the hill, I imagined a pond, traced by a path and overseen by ancient, stooped willows whose flowered boughs trailed in iridescent water. The best my wilting Garden could produce was a puddle of muddy vitae. I stared at it, simmering rage and frustration at my own inadequacy warring with the hunger clouding the back of my mind.
This would suffice; it must. A reserve, a threshold below which I would not draw except in case of dire injury. Which would be likely crossed if my mind lingered here any longer.
I rolled when my mind surfaced, bending a little more than I could as a human to weave around the next blow. Shale expected the hit to his ankle, and he pushed off to one side as I took the other. We came up facing each other, and I wobbled when the bruises made themselves known.
“You’re certainly tougher,” Shale taunted. “Didn’t think you’d get up; I guess I should’ve hit harder.” As he spoke, the stone around his hands crept up his forearms.
The vitae around him kept shredding my focus. I tried to force my own outward, to create a thread of stone. Instead, I dodged to the side again, locking my jaws to keep them from splitting my silken face open.
Above, Mother had leaned forward in her seat, a slight frown playing across her face. Memories stirred unbidden, and I had time to think between Shale’s next heavy-handed strike. This wasn’t like me at all—she’d noticed.
Where was the meticulous Slate? Where was the heir apparent who could land a hit despite a gulf of power an order of magnitude wide?
I took a deep breath and rolled around the next hit. My blade strike was a feint, and my foot caught his abdomen. Shale stumbled, but in my weakened state he was just fast enough to block the blade and nearly knock it from my hand.
The clang echoed through the training arena. Then another, and another. We traded blows, and I kept my distance, the nimble bird to his ponderous bear. My little pond held, and the bruises from the few hits he landed began to stack up.
All the while, I was trying to solve the puzzle of a thread like gemstones. A flash of mother’s hair was my inspiration, though the thread I called forth from my offhand was onyx black. He must have felt the pulse of vitae, because he blocked with a rock-coated arm.
My thread nearly cut through, and his construct of vitae fell away to pieces as the technique collapsed. When I pulled, he stumbled forward even as the shimmering thread collapsed. I struck his side with my blade, realizing a moment too late that he’d gotten too close.
A rock-booted knee drove up into my gut and I saw stars as the world spun. After a moment of blackness, I jumped up only to see the ring of the arena’s edge between me and a grinning Shale. No words would come as I struggled for breath.
“Is that… it?” He panted. An angry red line was visible under his sliced training tunic. Rather than the slash I’d given Azalea, this thread cut like the teeth of a saw, but he clapped a hand over it before I could see more. “Just a little thread? Didn’t take you for a seamstress, Brother!”
“Do you take the Shimmering Shadows Sect for seamstresses then, Shale?”
I looked up at Mother. She stepped over the edge and descended on steps of shimmering jewels that dissolved to dust behind her.
“No, Mother.” Shale bowed. “But I won!”
“Despite your advantages, yes, you managed not to lose.” She side-eyed him, then looked at me with concern creasing the corners of her eyes.
I almost choked out a reply, but trying to defend Shale would only incense him. I watched as he frowned and stomped away.
“You look exhausted, dear.”
“Still… tired from… training,” I panted out between labored breaths.
“Until the end, I worried you’d lost your edge completely.” She motioned for me to follow as she walked out the way I’d come in. “I would like to discuss your results before your father arrives this afternoon. I will ensure you receive a proper meal as well; you’re pale as a sheet and positively gaunt.”
Comments
The_Eldritch_Vixen
Silk, hun, you need to do some introspection. That's, that's not a typical reaction to one's own reflection in the mirror. Maxine, you really nailed it with the pre-realization dysphoria. Fuck that hits.
Genebeep (LadyLinq)
Silk needs to find a way to get some vitae fast! Surely they can get a bunch of those vitae restoring potions, right?
