In the footprints
When she leads, she asks people to step where she stepped. It is not arrogance. She has seen too many people in a hurry to take a shortcut — one of them is still stuck in the same day.
Zero-Law Executor of the Null Covenant · Former tutor of the Moonshadow Conclave
“Walk in my footprints. Slowly is fine. …It has been a long time since anyone was willing to walk behind me.”
Spoiler-free
Since then her name has been forbidden inside the forest, and she herself went to an organisation most nations deny exists. Her work is the category ordinary courts cannot try: curses that rewrite a witness’s memory, formulae that copy themselves, Star Tower incidents that leave a city holding two histories at once.
She says very little. On an operation any word can become a spell’s medium, and after long enough, silence becomes habit. She has not stopped feeling things, though — she remembers the smell of leaves, which shoulder a student lifts too high when drawing a bow, the temperature someone likes their tea. She is simply not used to translating “I remember” into “I care”.
Walking behind her is very safe. Her staff comes down first, and then the sound around you stops.
She was the finest mage of the Moonshadow Conclave, and the previous queen’s closest friend.
She was also the first teacher of two children — twin sisters, one of whom became the queen and one the crown regent. She taught them for over a century, and consistently refused to teach Aethelind the high formulae, keeping her instead in places where no spirit answered, practising the bow over and over. That left a wound in Aethelind that has lasted a hundred and twenty-eight years. Sylvarine has never explained it.
In 859 ST came the White Crown Upheaval. She killed the previous queen and was declared a regicide and a deserter by the Conclave. She did not offer a single word in her defence.
Afterwards she joined the Null Covenant and became one of the very few field agents to master the Zero Law — a power that briefly severs a target’s connection to the current rules of magic. No sound, no light. Only a gap where something was.
When she leads, she asks people to step where she stepped. It is not arrogance. She has seen too many people in a hurry to take a shortcut — one of them is still stuck in the same day.
The green leaf-blade circlet at her temple carries no enchantment at all. It was a gift from the previous queen; the edges went blunt long ago and one section has been mended with old fibre. She repairs her staff. She has never replaced the circlet.
After every operation she writes two records. One is filed. The other is not — that one holds the parts she is unsure of herself.
“Walk in my footprints. Slowly is fine. …It has been a long time since anyone was willing to walk behind me.”
“Step where I stepped. Don’t complain about the pace — the last person in a hurry to take a shortcut is still stuck in the same day.”
“This cup is more bitter than yesterday’s. Did you change the leaves? …I’m not being fussy. I can taste it now, and I wanted to tell you.”
“There is only one route. I go first. …You stay in the middle. Don’t end up last.”
“Quiet. …From this moment, there is no magic here.”
“This page — blank.”
“Get up. …I said get up. I don’t want to watch anyone disappear in front of me again. Not once.”
“For me? …Why. …No. I’ll take it. Thank you. It has simply been a long time since anyone gave me anything.”
“It’s raining. …Rain on broad leaves is a good sound. Sound is the first thing the Zero Law takes away.”
Drawn from the KTM2 WorldDict. Only the public layer of each entry is published here.