Karna Short Story

Hello Everyone!

Here is the first ever short story. I'm sure as time goes on, I'll make more elaborate ones, and if you have an idea of what you'd like to see, don't hesitate to reach out. I want to make these more fun in the future! Or at least things that people really enjoy seeing. I've even toyed with upping the maturity rating (since these won't be in books, and it's only for Patreon peeps) but I'm not as certain on that one.

These stories are meant to be fun, show some sort of interactions between characters I can't show in the Frith Chronicles books themselves, or something you all would find interesting.

Thank you for supporting me! <3 - It means the world, and hopefully you guys enjoy the insight!

Karna

Wearing another person’s face was liberating.

I didn’t have to be me.

The Stardrop Inn, located on the northern end of the Moonlight District in Thronehold, had an obsession with mirrors. The hallways, the rooms, the lounge, and the dining area were filled with antique mirrors, the type made of silver and framed with ornate metalwork. I saw myself wherever I went, and as long as I wore a new face, my dread thoughts wouldn’t return.

I waited in my “work room” for the next guest to our luxurious vacation house. The Stardrop Inn wasn’t for people looking for a warm bed and stew—it was a place for local arcanists to spend a night away from their families and responsibilities. Vivian would book me “appointments,” but there was also this downtime in between that I disliked.

Being alone with my thoughts bothered me.

I glanced down at my hands, my fingers trembling.

My palms, nails, and wrists were perfect—soft and spotless. Some would even say elegant and beautiful. But I knew the truth. I had stolen my appearance from the many people who visited the inn. Well, steal wasn’t the correct term. I never took anything, I just borrowed their looks as my own.

My blonde hair came from a woman bonded to a mermaid. She treated herself and made sure her locks were perfect, no matter the season or occasion. Once I had seen her hair, it had been easy to duplicate it with my magic.

My skin came from a singer who performed on stage. She said she had rubbed fish oil on herself for years. It kept her fresh and healthy, despite her age.

My eyes came from a child of a nobleman. The deep blue of her irises was unlike any other. The moment I locked my gazes with her, I knew I had to have them.

But when my magic faded, when I lost utter concentration… that was when reality came crashing back. It had taken me years of training to maintain my magic no matter the turmoil around me. Now, even when I slept, I could maintain my form. My doppelgänger magic only failed in the worst of situations.

I exhaled, and allowed my magic to leave me, one ounce at a time. My fingertips, my hands, my arms…

Slowly they became me.

Dark spots—irregular freckles, all varying sizes—and blue vein “stripes” marked my thin skin, but not as badly as the scars. Many years ago, and more times than I wanted to count, I had tried to take my life. For whatever reason, I wasn’t so good at killing. My stubborn heart refused to give up. It beat no matter how many times I slit my wrists or cut into my things.

I had wanted to escape everything, even life.

My disgusting hands and arms were just the beginning. I stared at them, my vision narrowing as the darkness crept into my sight.

Without warning, a pair of hands wrapped around mine. I flinched and glanced up, happy to see my closest friend in the world.

Karr, my eldrin. My doppelgänger.

When we were alone, like right now, he didn’t bother wearing his disguise. He stood before me like he was—a scarecrow made of hay and flesh. His skin had been stitched together like a poor man’s doll, each patch a slightly different shade of gray than the last. The hay in his body poked through at the seams and around his hands, feet, and neck. The golden complexion was marked with scarlet blood, as though the skin had been pulled tight over the hay while it had still been bleeding.

Karr’s stitchwork-mouth opened wide when he smithed, revealing a darkness within that most couldn’t stand to glance at.

He had no eyes, so where else would anyone look?

But no one ever saw Karr’s true appearance. Just like no one ever saw mine.

He squeezed his cold hands around mine, gently pulling me from my mire of depression.

“That isn’t you anymore,” he whispered. The rough hay of his body seemed to interfere with his speech.

With a deep breath, I augmented my appearance again, shifting my shape and eliminating the unsightly taint that still lingered on my body.

“It’ll always be me,” I replied.

“You’re not the same scared and abused girl from before. It’s okay to move on.”

We had had this argument a million times in the past. I would’ve had it again, but a soft tap on my door altered me to someone in the hall.

“Your next guest is on his way,” the soft voice said.

Ah. Right. I had to entertain someone tonight.

With a sigh, I slid off the silky bed and headed for the vanity. The Stardrop Inn had a theme of water, tranquility, and the tides. The walls had been painted a dark blue, and the sheets were a seafoam green. The silver vanity mirror reflected the many paintings of fish on the opposite wall, making it seem like there was more color in the room than there actually was.

I took only a moment to “freshen” myself. My doppelgänger magic made things like makeup irrelevant. If I wanted my cheeks to be a shade of rose, they were. If I wanted eyeshadow, I would shift my eyelids in hue until I had what I desired.

Most men didn’t care. What they wanted was someone young, excited, and willing to do anything.

I glanced back down at my hands. Some men wanted the worst of activities. On those nights, it was easier to retreat into my memories than live in the present.

“You’re doing it again,” Karr said.

His body shifted and twisted until his patchwork skin had become human, and his face had grown eyes and soft lips. He wore no clothing—doppelgängers rarely did—and once his body had formed, he hurried into the attached washroom and slipped into one of his many outfits.

“Don’t get that way with the guests,” he called from the washroom.

“You needn’t worry,” I said. “I won’t.”

“I’ll be outside if you need me.”

Karr left out the window. He would stand on the outside ledge of the building, hanging onto the window until I was done with my work—or if I called his name. Then he would leapt back in and help me with whatever situation had arisen.

I wished I didn’t have to live in Thronehold. The Moonlight District and this way of life was all I knew, but I still wanted away from it all.

I would’ve applied to the guilds, had they not failed me in the past. Once, long before I had bonded with Karr, a man had left me for dead in the woods, after he and his cruel friends had had their way with me. I tried to get the guilds to do something, but in the end, nothing happened.

Why would I trust them? Why would I be part of their ranks?

But maybe… anything was better than waiting here.

Once prepped and fresh, I smoothed my silky shirt and skirt. They weren’t the most revealing clothing I owned, but they didn’t cover as much as they promised, either. Every detail of my skin, right down to the goosebump, could be felt through the thin material, and I wore nothing underneath—not for my benefit, but because men would rather stare at certain parts of me while we spoke, rather than my lips.

I returned to the bed and draped myself on the end of it, like I had been resting here for hours. I took the time to arrange my hair so that it fluttered outward on the bed, a beautiful “mess” for anyone who walked in and “caught” me lying on my back, stretching from a long nap.

Right on cue, the door opened with a creak.

The man who walked in wasn’t like my other guests. The others wore fine vests and trousers, some decorated with feathers and chains. Some wore robes and medals and sashes—all declaring their wealth to the world through material means.

This man wore a tricorn cap, the type adored by sailors. His weather-beaten trousers, well-worn belt, and ragged button-up shirt all told the same story. He had sailed the oceans and seas, and probably only owned one or two outfits through it all.

The arcanist mark on his forehead made it clear he wasn’t any sailor. He had bonded with a roc—the gigantic birds who favored pirates.

With a feigned yawn, and a quick bat of lashes, I sat up and frowned. “Oh, my.” I carefully slid off the mattress, mindful of how my clothing draped around my curvy body. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

The man shut the door. When he glanced in my direction, it wasn’t with lustful eyes. In anything, he seemed… melancholy.

His dark hair went to his shoulders, and he kept his beard trimmed neat—a chinstrap beard that lined his jaw. He had a holster on his belt, but the Stardrop Inn had a policy against firearms and blades. The holster was empty.

The man waited by the door for a long moment as he observed our surroundings. The simple room was spacious—to allow for whatever kind of activity—with only a bed, a vanity, and a table for incense. Four mirrors, one for each wall, finished off the decorations.

“You can call me Devlin,” he said as he hesitantly stepped forward. “So, how does this work? The siren arcanist on the first floor said I should speak to you about the specifics.”

“You’re a roc arcanist?” I asked, ignoring his question. “It must’ve been difficult to bond with such a powerful mystical creature.” I sat back down on the foot of the bed and leaned back.

When he strode into the room, his steps were slow and methodical. It was like he assumed a sneak attack would spring from the floor or the ceiling at any moment. His eyes—likely enhanced with roc magic—darted from one corner to the next.

“My roc is a gentle bird,” he said as he reached the foot of the bed.

I giggled and stared up at him through my lashes. “I know little about rocs.”

In reality, I knew quite a bit, but I found it easier to feign ignorance when around my guests.

“I don’t have much time.” Devlin took a seat next to me, his hard-set gaze locked to mine. “So, how does this work?”

“You don’t want a little conversation first?” I asked as I leaned myself onto his shoulder. “Or perhaps a few questions to get to know each other better?”

“Can I ask you for anything? Or are there limits?”

I really didn’t like it when those were the first questions.

With a forced smile, I replied with half a shrug. “No limits, darling. If you’re in a hurry, why don’t you just paint me a picture of your preferred fantasy?”

Despite the fact we had incense in the room, Devlin smelled of smoke and salt. Not from the ocean, but the smoke and salt that gushed from the chimney stacks of the factories around Thronehold. Was he some sort of worker? No roc arcanist would work such low position jobs…

“I was wonderin’…” Devlin turned away from me, his muscular shoulders tense, his breathing shallow. “If you wouldn’t mind if we just laid down.” He quickly gestured to the bed. “Just for a bit.”

“Lay down?” I repeated, one eyebrow raised.

Devlin nodded once.

It wasn’t uncommon for men to want to hold me, but that was typically after some other activity. Or perhaps this odd pirate-man wanted to slowly warm up to something else? I didn’t mind. It was more pleasant than what I thought he was going to ask.

We scooted down the bed, and Devlin rested his head on one of the giant pillows. I crawled to his side and rested next to him. For a short moment, neither of us did anything. Then Devlin took a deep breath, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pulled me across the silk sheet until I was flesh up against his side. He radiated warmth, and when he held me, I had no use for blankets or sheets.

Then Devlin closed his eyes and exhaled.

I placed my head on his chest, right where it met his arm, cradling my temple in his armpit. He had more of an odor than most of my guests, but his was a masculine scent that I enjoyed.

He held me close, never moving—never escalating.

Finally, I asked, “Are you taking a nap, darling?”

“Maybe.”

I motioned to the two lanterns in the corners of the room. “Should I snuff those?”

“No. I need them.”

I glanced around, like I would find a murderer who had been stalking him. “What do you need them for?”

He scrunched his eyes closed harder. “This might not make any sense, but… If we’re in the dark, I’ll think of other things. This way, with the lights on, I can’t picture nothin’ but this moment.”

I grazed my fingertips along his thick chest, admiring his power. “What’re you afraid you’ll remember?”

“My wife,” he said under his breath.

I stopped my touch and almost pushed myself from his grip. When Devlin didn’t move, I relaxed a bit. “She’s… no longer with us.”

Devlin said nothing.

Ah. This made more sense. Poor sailor-man missed his wife and wanted company for the night. I held him a little tighter, nuzzling into his side and soaking up all his warmth.

A long while passed and I almost fell asleep. Why not? Might as well enjoy the break.

“Grace and my daughter,” Devlin muttered, his attention on the ceiling. “Three years ago, this day, I lost them.”

With slow motions, I moved my fingertips over his chest a second time. “Pirates?”

“A flood,” he intoned.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to say.”

He was probably right. A natural disaster wasn’t something that someone could seek revenge on. The flood had no malice toward the people, nor did it have goals or desires. Sometimes terrible things happened.

But Devlin clearly wanted something to hate. He glared at the ceiling, as though he wanted to slit its throat.

This was the Stardrop Inn. Helping arcanists relax was my job.

I raked my fingers through his hair, scooping off his tricorn cap. “Are you a member of a guild?”

He jerked his hand away from my grip and then tossed it to the floor. “No. Never.”

“Such anger,” I whispered into his ear, my voice husky. “No need to get upset.”

“The guilds never follow through with what they say they will.”

I chuckled, allowing my lips to caress the shell of his ear. “Well, we agree on that, at least.”

“They were supposed to handle the flood. They were supposedto be there. But they weren’t. Everyone died, thinking the arcanists would solve the problem.”

The venom in his words shook me. I leaned away, trying to think of ways to soothe his rage. Then I moved in again, a laugh on my breath as I said, “In this world, sometimes the only thing you can trust is your own strength.”

The words sunk into his thoughts. He turned to face me, his hardened expression a bit softer.

“Did you want to change your request for the evening?” I asked.

Devlin exhaled and then returned his distant gaze to the ceiling. “No. I originally came here looking for someone, but I just couldn’t get the answers. Now that… it’s today… I can’t focus.”

“Who were you looking for?”

“Rumors say men go missing around these parts. Men who visit the Stardrop Inn. An assassin, or something. I figured it had to be one of the women.”

I held my breath, waiting for him to continue.

“But I can’t find her, because no one will talk.” He exhaled and shrugged.

“Are you trying to bring her to justice?” I asked, my voice soft.

Devlin genuinely laughed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I wanted her for.”

His words and actions intrigued me. Not many men would forgo a night in my arms—not even to mourn their dead wife and daughter. Yet here Devlin was, so distraught by old thoughts of the past, they haunted him in the present.

“Try me,” I said. “I want to hear.”

“I’m looking for arcanists,” Devlin muttered. “I have this airship, and she needs a new crew. I already got work lined up, but it’s unsavory, and involves killin’.”

An airship? That explained his smell, and also why his roc was more on the gentler side. My heart fluttered and twisted as I imagined riding through the sky like a bird in the wind.

Had word of my exploits really gotten around? I thought I had killed those men without leaving a trace, but—like I said—I wasn’t that good at killing. It seemed as though I wouldn’t be able to stay at the Stardrop Inn much longer…

“Does your crew need a doppelgänger arcanist?” I asked, nuzzling even closer to Devlin. The man hadn’t even taken off his boots—most in Thronehold would consider him a barbarian—but he was my favorite guest of all time.

“A doppelgänger?” Devlin turned his head and his unfocused eyes finally saw my arcanist mark. “Ah, lass… You have magic?” He sat up, almost tossing me aside. “I… I apologize. I haven’t even asked your name.”

His sudden realization and lack of manners disturbed him? I couldn’t help but actually snicker.

“You can call me Karna,” I said.

A fake name. I never wanted anyone to know the “real” me. The one that was dead. The one who had tried to kill themselves.

“Karna… I see.” Devlin snatched his cap off the floor of my room and then pulled it back atop his head. “Look, I’ll be back tomorrow night, all right? When my head is on tighter.” He stood from the bed and exhaled. “You’ll be here?”

“Of course,” I purred.

“And we can talk employment?”

I fluffed my blonde hair. “I look forward to it.”

Devlin stood still for a moment, like he wanted to ask me one final question, but never did. He did glance over his shoulder and offer me a smile, though. Then he walked to the door, his gait a bit uncertain. When he left, he shut the door with enough force to make the wall mirror shudder.

An airship…

A mercenary who hates guilds…

Life had a way of giving people signs. I glanced back at my hands and wondered if this was worth the risk. It was. Staying here—it was the past. I needed a new future. Something to strive for. People to… bring to justice.

Just like all the terrible men I had met in the inn. The ones who thought human life wasn’t worth anything once they had paid for a portion of her time.

Invigorated by purpose, I leapt from the silk-covered bed and headed to the vanity. I willed my doppelgänger magic to fade completely and then stared at the ratty copper-haired person in the mirror.

The past had led me here.

Just like the past had led Devlin here.

Then I resumed my doppelgänger magic and shut off my feelings from that time period. I was a new person now. I was “Karna,” an assassin.