A pathetic opponent, Isca thought. Standing there unknowing, speaking to one who has lived ten thousand and more -- and never lost a fight in her life. And what had this character ever lost? Their freedom? Their love? Their family?
Ten thousand years and more...
Isca's thoughts turned, unbidden, to her childhood. Laughing, splashing in the surf off Okkara with her sister. Running games on the sand. Who could swim fastest, skim a stone farthest? Little Isca always lagged behind, but she laughed with the others.
When she began to win, it was a novelty at first.
But she could never lose.
The games ended soon after. But life was good. Her sister married a blue-lipped boy who hung on every word of her philosophy. Children were born, and swords were forged in ceremony, for their old use was long done with.
Then the demons came, and one island became two -- the number of the fall. Of the self and the shadow self. And Isca won every battle -- carving her personal swath through the demon army.
She could never lose.
Her efforts brought Annihilation to the gate with whispered words for her sister, that appealed to Genesis' ideals - her dark dreams of what Arakko could be. Temptations that were heeded.
She remembered feeling the shift inside her -- when there could be no winning -- and it had felt like nothing at all. It was not she that had changed but the world around her, the perspective flipping so completely that there was simply no choice to be made. No choice at all.
She could never lose.
So she left her home behind and walked into Amenth, to the demon lands, to join the First Summoners and fight for their cause. And she took one, bone-white and lean- a genomic mage with a quick, cruel wit and the devil in his eyes -- to be her lover.
Together, they were conquerors and prison lords, bending the proudest to their will, and the calls of "traitor" and "oathbreaker" were as easily borne as summer rain on her skin. Until the world shifted again. Until she turned again.
For she could never lose.
And -- after the great victory she joined so late - her people despised her, and her family was lost to her, and all her love's wit and cruelty was spilled onto the dirt with his brains, while she watched. And that too was in some way because she could not lose-- for there was cruel wit to be found on Krakoa as well.
And then the world had shifted again, and shifted back, and she had never had a choice.
So there was no freedom for her either, even now. How could there be?
How could she understand loss?
Isca remembered a laughing girl running along a beach. She fell to her knees.
One second had passed.