The woman was promptly knocked aside as the appendages slammed into her. The monster advance, driving Aya backwards. Before it could fall upon her, two further men stepped from the shadows, steel glinting as it rushed down.

The thing spun to bring its lashes all of which missed or were sent flying away into the woods. Ducking and dodging the pair hacked away at it, driving it to its knees as it wailed. Finally it pitched into the forest floor, a bubbling rattle escaping from its head as it lay still.

The woman that turned to help, had skin so dark that she practically vanished against the night. Her blades where long, thin things, like over-sized needles, their polished surfaces slick with blood. She hauled the downed knight to her feet with ease, then Aya.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her accent warm and infectious.

“I-I think so,” she said, not entirely sure. The pain was far from gone, still reaching up her elbows with a voracity. It was almost as if it was trying to reach into her chest and pluck out her heart, as the mist was.

The soilder, as Aya was sure she was, was strange in her way. Past the standard armaments of steel,leather, and cloth, she wore gold chains, with brass studs echoing over plate and mail. Her movements were far more graceful than any she’d seen, more like the stories of the Karkosian dancers.

“You best come with us,” she said, “it’s not safe here.”

She looked between what one could see of the trees. No creature was approaching to accost them, so, after confirming with her comrades she nodded her head southeast.

“Come, we’ve got a main party somewhere back there. Gonna be hell finding our way in the mist, but staying here’s asking for trouble.”

As they pulled her along, Aya found herself struck with the bizarre thought that the black beast of metal and cloth had lead them here. She decided that it was unlikely, and merely a stroke of luck had brought them these saviours.

The abject terror of the morning, or evening, Aya wasn’t entirely sure which it was, began to fade. Behind her, the sounds of men grunting, flesh tearing, and the screams of dying monsters. She even felt a glimmer of safety, where before she had none.

It was in that moment that she remembered her mother, and felt guilt at not having thought of her. But before she could so much as attempt so communicate her concerns, something sailed out of the mists. It, whatever it was, rolled on the ground, before it came to a halt near them. It shuddered, making some last gurgling sound, and lay still.

The woman that strode from the mist was tall and broad, wielding a sword as tall as Aya was. Her dark hair was tied up in a voluminous pony tail, the front strands secured to her sweat soaked face. Her eyes were of a blue so pale they practically glowed in the light of her lamp-barer.

At the sight of her, Aya realized who she was. The guard from the village that accosted them, and had let them go.

“It’s you?” she said as her eyes fell upon the girl. Her voice was surprised, presumably from the repeated meeting.

“It’s… me?” Aya responded, not entirely sure what to say.

“Yes, well, your… father, I assume. He bade us find you, after you left the-”

The woman’s sword fell to the forest floor with a muffled thump. Aya immediately flinched, assuming that one of the pale beasts had snuck up on them. But the soldiers around her did not so much as move. When she glanced back up at them, they were either sweeping the trees, or looking just as confused as she was.

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“How? What- what did? How could it-” stuttered the woman as she stared at the younger girl. Her previous calm, if surprised, demeanour had become completely flummoxed.

“It’s you,” she said, putting a hand to her head as if to faint.

Aya understood that the woman meant something very different than before. She wondered at what had brought on the change. The expression of the soldiers around her indicated that this was not a common sight. This was compounded by the emergence of a second armoured figure beside the woman.

“Lillian, we’ve dealt with them on the western edge, but there are several that escaped. For all we know, there may be an entire legion coming down that hill. It’s best we retreat.”

Before he could elucidate further, the woman, Lillian, pointed at Aya. The man went dead silent as his eyes narrowed, sweeping the girl. His jaw dropped when he finally got to the hands

“Wha- That- That isn’t… what?” he seemed aghast at the sight of the light pouring from within.

The woman, now unfrozen from whatever stupor she’d occupied, bent to pick up her sword. She sheathed it, and approached the young girl. Aya thought for a moment that there was reverence in her steps.

“That- that can’t be. There’s no way,” said the man as his own sword lowered, utter disbelief in his words.

“But it is,” said the woman, taking hold of Aya’s hands firmly, examining the scars despite her backing away.

“No. We can’t have merely… stumbled upon her. Not when they’ve been searching for sixty years.”

“Look, Niche, look at them,” she said breathlessly, pulling away her gloves and exposing her hands. The man’s face slackened, at the sight, finally seeming to accept what his eyes told him.

“Then- Then it’s true. It’s true!” he shouted, tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

Aya by this point was almost as afraid of the pair as she had of the monsters. Before they could make any further proclamations, the knight with golden chains barged in.

“If you’ve found what you need, we should go. Last thing I want is to stay out here and get ambushed.”

“Right, yes, of course,” said Lillian, as she let go of Aya’s hands, “my deepest apologies, my lady, I got caught up in the moment. You must come with us. We can take you away from the horrible place.”

“My mother’s here,” Aya interjected, “somewhere, please. Find her. Save her. Save her and I’ll go anywhere with you.”

Lillian nodded at the woman, who set off with the other two.

“Of course,” she said, with a smile with a distinctly disturbing character, “we’ll find her. I promise. But now, you must come with us. We need to keep you safe, at all costs.”

Aya took the offered hand, and allowed herself to be dragged along. The pair set off with a spring in their step, swords raised and laterns held high. It wasn’t long before they came across a set of horses, guarded by other knights. With a few words, a horn pierced the mists.

Men and woman, all armed and armoured, some with torches and swords, some on horse back, straggled out of the mists. A customary count was conducted where upon it was remarked that they’d lost no men so far. The only ones missing where the trio that had set off, led by knight Damafelce.

The waiting in the cold and dark, even as the mists began to recede, was terrible indeed. Aya was trembling, though because of the cold, or the shock, or the worry for her mother, she could not say. Whatever it could’ve been, it was sharpened to knifes edge when she heard a call come through the forest.

Three figures emerged from the trees, helping along a fourth. Aya gave a cry, and raced to her mother, who nearly crushed Aya in her embrace. The pair hung there for a moment, Aya wishing that they’d never left the village, that none of this had ever happened. She wanted nothing more than to be back in the kitchen of that too-small house, cooking the day away as her mother told stories.

“Let’s go,” said the leading knight with gold chains, who must have been this ‘knight Damafelce’.

The pair was loaded up and paired with a rider, and they took off to the south. The woods and hours passed by in the murky mess. More than once, Aya looked back, just to ensure that they weren’t being followed. Fortunately, it appeared that the creatures were all dealt with, or had retreated far away from them.

Soon, they came across a camp, crude fortifications and tents arranged in concentric circles. The pair were shuffled off as the horses were taken for feeding and watering. They offered no argument or request as they were compelled into a large tent.

Before them was a table of moderate size, small barrels and a set of sleeping furs off to the side. A map of what appeared to be the valley, in text that Aya could barely read, was pinned carefully to it.

Behind the table, standing, eyes sweeping the map, was a man. He was of middling age, perhaps thirty or maybe forty, with a salt-and-pepper beard, with long black hair with a hint of blue in it. He was scribbling on a desperate page with a strange metal tube as the paladins cleared their throat.

His eyes, when he looked up, were of a blue-green. They widened in surprise as he recognized her, and she him. It was the man, ‘Naia’, who’d helped her back from the church. His simple worn travelling clothes had been replaced by a stricter uniform, a breastplate, vambraces, and a brassed shoulder plate.

“Who is this, Paladin Lillian?” he said, indicating the pair.

The paladin said nothing as she took Aya’s wrist, and showed him the scars. The light had died down for the most part, but faint glimmers could be seen. The man’s eyes drifted from her hand to her face, then to Lillian.

“I see,” he said, his words slow and dry, “well, that changes things. Considerably.”

Before any of the other adults could say another word, a pair of children, albeit older than Aya, emerged from a fold in the tent. They had fiery red hair, and muddy green eyes, but most striking was their scars, fully bared and practically identical.

The girl, upon seeing Aya, smiled a wide, joyful smile.

“Finally, we found you,” she said, her male counterpart staying silent.

“I’m sorry?” said Aya, feeling the urge to back away from the strange familiarity of these two, “I don’t know you. What are you talking about?”

The answer came not from the girl, but from the female paladin behind her.

“We are of the Church,” she said, kneeling down, and kissing Aya’s hand, “and you, my lady, are a Bequeathed.”