“I told you, Unlahney. I told you this would happen. They were not strong enough. They were weak. Inferior. Of course they were going to give up.”
Kayel ignored the Thraki flying around him. He remained where he was, hovering above the tree tops, floating on a pair of black, psionic wings.
“You knew this would happen. You knew your friends would not have the mindset to deal with the intricacies of magia.”
The Thraki, adorned in gold armour, kept on talking. Kayel continued to ignore him.
“Your kind are weak. You may be connected to the element of light, but that doesn’t automatically make you good at this. You have no strength. You are reliant on your telekinetic powers. Lazy little Rethan children.”
Kayel grunted. He was tired and angry. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to argue. He just wanted to be left alone. He was hoping the solitude would help him plot his next course of action, but this Thraki was pissing him off.
“Like I always said, Undead One. The Panvok races are weak. Especially you Rethans.”
Finally, Kayel snapped.
“Will you shut the fuck up, Vokulunax? Do I fault you for being unable to properly write with pen and paper? Do I mock you for your inability to use modern technology, being wholly reliant on your basic magics? No. I don’t. Because I am a decent being. Now shut up and fuck off.”
Vokulunax tutted, hovering around some more. He flew up in front of Kayel.
“Admit it. You failed.”
“I’ll have failed when the rest of them give up. But Ksiel, Veeyel, Zitel and Thitel are all still with me. The others may have decided they want an easier life, but they haven’t.”
“Half your team left.”
Kayel growled. “And now many Thraki still follow your traditions, hm? All of them? I doubt it. Half of them? Not quite. You told me yourself that only a quarter of Thraki follow Magia-based traditions, the majority just living on their own or practising variants of your religious ideas. Have YOU failed, Vokulunax?”
The Thraki hesitated, then flew off, before circling around and coming back.
“You are a dick, Kayel.”
“No, you are. You insulted me then realised you couldn’t take it back.”
“I am right though. Rethans are soft and lazy.”
Kayel sighed. Vokulunax had no idea what he and the rest of the L-Class had lived through. Pain and suffering and torture. They had worked hard their entire lives, always doing their best to protect others. They’d saved an entire city from being destroyed. Even without Kayel leading them, they’d continued their duties as tireless guardians. Now though, they were getting older. They’d made it past the age of fifty, and that was a small miracle by itself.
Really, Kayel wasn’t angry at his friends. Part of him wanted to accept Ayvee-En’s offer. It would have been great going back to the old days. But it would have been empty. Effortless. He would have gone insane. And Veeyel, well, he would have lost his mind too. He already was losing his mind, all that time stuck in a hospital with no external stimulus was getting to him.
“You should admit it, Kayel. You are over your head. They will not learn. They will never be able to use magic.”
Suddenly, a blast of ice and water shot out from one of the trees below them, clipping Vokulunax’s wing and causing him to lose balance. He panicked and flapped his wings, trying to reorientate himself.
The words “FUCK OFF YOU CUNTING DRAGON, SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO STUDY!” echoed across the treetops, as Vokulunax blinked in confusion. Below them, Veeyel was standing on the balcony of their tree house, a simple staff in one hand, a heavy, leather-bound book in the other.
Kayel crossed his arms and smiled smugly at the Thraki.
“You were saying?”
Vokulunax sighed, then flew off, unable to form a decent comeback.