Yelena
"Lena!" a woman’s voice cried into the fading light of spring. "Lena! Come home!"
In the deep valley, wreathed in twilight, a single apple tree was on the eve of blossoming; here and there amidst the shadowed boughs one flower had opened early, rose-colored and white, like a faintly glowing star. Down the orchard isles, in the fresh grass soaked by constant rains, Yelena ran for nothing more than the joy of running. Upon hearing her mother's call she did not come at once but made a long circle before she turned her face towards home.
Her mother waited in the hut doorway and watched her daughter’s tiny figure run and bob like a bit of thistledown blown over the darkening grass beneath the tree.
As the child approached, she waved to her father, who had been chopping wood by the henhouse. He laughed as she almost tripped over the stray twigs and brambles that lined the pathway to their home.
As the child reached the porch, her tiny feet trailed mud and dirt across the wooden floorboards, much to her father’s chagrin. But the mother only laughed and scooped her up in her arms, kissing the child’s fair blonde crown.
"Mama gives the best hugs!" the child cried, nuzzling into her mother’s chest. In the light of the warm hearth burning inside, she saw the glorious amber glow of her mother’s hair and giggled as it brushed gently against her, tickling her cheek.
"Is that so?" her father chuckled as he strode to the pair. "Well then, why did you run away from her?"
The sun slowly faded, eclipsed by the descending dark of dusk. A glowering penumbra was cast over the child’s face as it looked up in sudden confusion and realization: Its mother’s flesh had begun to melt under its hands.
The skin of the mother’s face slowly began dripping from the woman’s bones, her plastic smile still unwavering, pieces of flesh being sucked in between the holes that had formed in her teeth. The little girl felt herself fall to the ground, seeing a new world now rise before her.
"You ran," the voice she knew as ‘father’ said from somewhere distant. Its timbre was like a blade being drawn across the small of her back, raking it with fresh scars.
"You ran, and you let your mother die."
"Daddy, no…" she stuttered, watching the shadow of night possess his face as he materialized before her. His eyes glowed with the lambent evil of crimson twilight, and the orchard behind him no longer looked on with its neutral gaze; now, its branches burned with a fire that was consuming the entire valley.
"Always excuses," he growled, swinging his bloody axe coated in chicken viscera in his hand. "Is this the thanks I get for raising you, nurturing you, providing for you? You, who killed your mother to come into this world? Who made her suffer so? Who laughs at me every day behind my back? Admit it – you’re laughing now, aren’t you, you little brat? Aren’t you?"
His voice became a scream that cut through her perception of reality. She held her head in her hands as tears stained her cheeks and splashed onto the dying grass below her.
"Daddy, I’m sorry. I – I’m…"
"You, you, you – always a selfish little creature. Spiteful and vile. That’s why you deserve to be alone."
As he said it, that word was punctuated by the snapping of the orchard’s branches and the sickening pop of fruit.
"I’ll make sure you stay that way," Daddy said. "You’ll learn to respect me; pain will be your teacher."
She cried out as the gout of flame brought down the tree and crawled towards her. Daddy’s cackling face immediately disappeared, and she closed her eyes and let the fire take her.
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She woke to the cold stone of the monastery’s ceiling and the sounds of wet sniffing in her ear.
Immediately, she threw off the threadbare covers and assumed a battle stance, realizing too late that it was Dimedrious inspecting her with his canine nose.
"Rise and shine, buttercup," he said with a huff.
She sighed, wiping the sweat that had gathered on her brow.
"Di," she said with the weary croak of one roused from a deep slumber. "How often do I have to chase you away from my bedside?"
"So callous," he said, feigning insult. "And that’s Captain Di to you. Your commander thought he’d come here to make sure his number two is ready for the day."
"That’s the only reason?’" she chuckled as she got up, opened the simple dresser at the side of her quarters, and then tossed a patchwork ball towards him. He caught it in his mouth on instinct, his tail subconsciously wagging at the back of his armored legs.
At the smile the impulse brought from her, he spat it out immediately.
"Now look, there’s no need for that," he said, hairy cheeks blanched with rouge while his tail flapped relentlessly behind him. She giggled as she slipped into the grey fatigues that the acolytes of Caer Argent wore proudly – attire as resolute and neutral as the tundra that surrounded them outside.
Dimedrious turned away promptly and gave a fierce cough. "You know, teasing your commanding officer is grounds for summary discipline."
"Who’s teasing?" she said as her blonde threads popped through her shirt. She straightened herself out in her room mirror, illuminated only by the glow of the single, flickering candle that glimmered by her bedside. Her deep blue eyes stared back at her under the light – two shimmering gemstones affixed to a face as pale as the endless snow falling outside the window.
"Hmpf," Dimedrious snorted. "At least explain why you didn’t report to breakfast again."
At this, she grew silent. Dimedrious had expected a curt reply from the youth. Instead, he raised one hairy eyebrow as her shoulders seemed to sag under the question's weight.
"I had that same dream, Di," she said.
"Hmpf," he snorted again. "Third time this week?"
She nodded. She did not turn to face him but stared at her white knuckles gripping the table under the candlelight. Her eyes lingered on the simple chain necklace that lay there - the glowing orange gemstone at its center reflecting her look of anxiety. She picked it up and fastened it around her neck more out of duty than desire.
Then, she was surprised to find the firm but soft paw of the great hound place itself upon her shoulder.
"Lena," he said softly. "It was not your fault."
She sniffled and let her head fall.
"How many times do you have to tell yourself something before you start to believe it?"
She felt his grip waver, and she let her hand fly to meet his just before it left her skin.
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"But thanks, Di," she whispered. "Sometimes it’s nice to hear someone else say it."
"Whatever," he said as he turned away, concealing his blushing cheeks. "Look, training’s at midday, so you’d better get your ass into gear."
Now, she finally turned to look at him, eyes sparkling brighter than the sole illumination in the room.
"You mean..?"
"Yeah," he said, flashing her his toothy smile. "Today, you’re my sparring partner for the newbloods. Show the rabble down there why you’re my second in command, yeah?"
She threw her arms around him in joy. "Thanks, Di!"
"Alright!" he barked back, brushing her off gently. "Keep it professional, ok? And don’t embarrass me or nothin.’ I got a Captain’s reputation to uphold."
She nodded enthusiastically and then whipped around the room in a mad rush to ransack her closet for her armor. He stayed for but a moment before he realized that he was practically invisible to her at this point. So, with a slight chuckle, he left her to her labor and closed the door behind him.
He couldn’t help but linger outside amidst the dimly burning braziers that lined the monastery’s dark corridors. He could still hear her bustling about like a worker ant. Even though the human piece of his soul mourned for her struggles, the animal part of him giggled at the thought of a teenager so excited by the thrill of combat.
"But then," he said aloud. "She does have one hell of a teacher."
And he made his way downstairs with a smile on his lips.
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Caer Argent’s cold embrace barely nicked Yelena as she marched down its ancient stone corridors towards the Training Hall.
She ignored the stares of the various hybrids she passed on her way – Brothers and Sisters in arms who barely moved to let her through. The looks of even the most neutral warriors turned to, at best, downcast stares of anxiety as they looked upon her blonde locks and pale skin. She didn’t have to look back at them to feel their scorn. Canis, Tigran, Tilonxeel, Jilae, Yok’ra…what did the differences between the races matter if not one of them would ever consider her part of their family?
She: a Firvak. A creature born of the dark.
She shook the thought from her head almost as soon as it entered. Already she was succumbing to the greatest weakness Lord Jael had always said a warrior must be guarded against: self-doubt.
She resolved to remember what family she did have: her squad. Dimedrious, the bulky hound; Agathae, the mischievous Tigran; and Cynthia, the skittish Tilonxeel. They were the true allies against the wall of hate and suspicion she constantly ran up against. For her, that was enough.
She kept this thought in her mind as she pushed the wooden doors open to the indoor training circle and stood a moment, resplendent in her stitched training leathers, bracers and silvered blade in its sheath. She quickly read the climate of the room. She was getting good at that.
Ancient columns of grey stone held the roof above the circle that had stood longer than Yelena or all the other monastery members had lived. The pearl white light of Averix’s frozen Northern hemisphere streamed through holes in the aged roof beams, and Yelena breathed in the slight chill that dominated the air. She cast her eyes around the chamber to see the various wooden weaponry arrayed there for their use, and once again, she was reminded that it had taken her this long to become as proficient as she was with but one of these tools. It could take the rest of her relatively short life to master the rest.
Warriors danced between the pillars like prancing marionettes spinning in perfect rhythm – with the occasional stumble that spoke to their inexperience. They barely regarded her as she walked past them, but there was the odd glance now and then that she had to brush off. She fingered the hilt of her blade absent-mindedly as she pinpointed Dimedrious’ location at the end of the room.
He wasn’t alone.
"Lena!"
A crimson-hued amalgamation of feline and girl launched herself at Yelena before the latter barely had time to register her friend's face. The Tigran girl giggled as Yelena struggled to free herself from her powerful yet warm grip.
"Agathae!" she gasped. "You’re gonna cut my brain off!"
"Were it so easy," another voice perked up from behind the Tigran – a voice calm, cool, and so collected that it could only belong to one girl: the Tilonxeel Cynthia, mistress of marksmanship.
"Aww," Agathae pouted, hanging by Yelena’s neck and feigning sorrow. "Don’t worry, I got plenty of affection for you too, Cynth."
"I’ve had just about as much of it as I can take!" Cynthia retorted, protecting her fluffy tail from Agathae while the latter tried scratching at it with her free hand. Cynthia’s whiskers twitched in dismay, and it was all Yelena could do to hold in her laughter. All these years, the squirrel-human hybrid’s mannerisms never ceased to bring a smile to her face.
"Honestly, Lena," Cynthia continued. "Control this kitten before she makes a nuisance of herself again. We all remember what happened last time we trained in here."
"Oh, what’s a little light thievery among friends?" Agathae said as she continued cuddling up to Yelena.
"It’s not light thievery when you plant a Sister’s prized heirloom on a member of a rival squad. Especially if it’s their Captain!"
"Aw, come on, Cynth. Di patched that little mistake all up. Besides, this is Captain Arekis we’re talking about. I don’t like how he looks at me in the mess hall."
"But you’re fine with how the other guys look at you?" Yelena asked.
"And the girls," Agathae corrected with a wink. "Except you, of course, Lena. Even as you tease me with that hair and that shiny necklace, you just don’t give it up."
Yelena pushed her away with little effort as she and Cynthia shared a collective sigh. Truthfully, there were times when the three of them couldn’t see eye to eye. But Yelena knew that same tension kept them alive on the snowcapped battlefields of the North.
Dimedrious, watching the spectacle unfold with despair and childish joy, stifled a yawn as he rose and approached.
"You know I only need this one, right?" he said, pointing one hairy paw at Yelena. "You two can kiss and make up elsewhere."
"And miss this opportunity to show our squad-mate some love? Fat chance," Agathae retorted. "Where would Lena be without her adorable cheerleaders? Right, Cynth?"
Cynthia shook her head and grunted her assent, smiling despite herself.
"As much as I’d like the chance to go toe to toe with our illustrious Captain," she said. "We all know Lena’s the one who deserves this. The ‘Fangs of the Wolf’ wouldn’t be where we are today without her."
"Sisters…" Yelena began, suddenly unsure, off-balance. Like a kitten suspicious of kindness, she couldn’t take their smiles of adoration.
"Are you blushing?" Agathae asked.
"No!" Yelena stated, more firmly than she’d meant to.
"You are so blushing!" the Tigran squealed with glee. "Hold on, lemme take a mental picture of this."
"Alright!" Dimedrious cut in, loud enough for some of the warriors nearby to pause and stare up at him like they were awaiting some command.
Amidst the stifled laughter of his squad, he simply continued like he’d planned the outburst:
"Ok! New blood, file in! Form a ring, and let the pros show you a thing or two."
The Brothers and Sisters in the Hall immediately ceased their combat. They obeyed the command, for no warrior had come to Caer Argent without hearing the tales of Dimedrious the battle hound – bred for fighting, hardened by war. Every hybrid in the monastery looked up to him like an aged mentor.
Yelena was no exception. As he beckoned her forward, and she stood to attention beside him, she couldn’t help but smile again at the fact that he’d chosen her to be by his side on this day.
However, that didn’t keep her palms from sweating. Or her legs from shaking. Or her eyes from twitching slightly as they met the stares of the crowd of recruits that suddenly surrounded her – hybrids from all over Averix that had come here for one reason.
"Killing monsters!" Dimedrious bellowed. "That’s what you want, right? You’ve all heard the stories about the evils of the frigid North, about the scary boogeymen that crawl out from the depths of that great stinkin’ pit in the earth and try to suck the souls outta the children up here."
Hushed whispers began to meander around the crowd.
"What’s that?" Dimedrious barked, cowing the hybrid assembly into silence. Yelena stifled a smile. She knew by his bombastic tone alone that he was enjoying this little piece of theatre.
"That’s right," he continued, pacing around like a predator. "That’s the monsters you came here to fight. Those deep dark demons shat forth from the pit of hell itself: The Everloft."
At the mere mention of the great abyss, Yelena saw some members of the crowd gulp and tighten their grips on their practice weapons.
"We are the Line of Argent," Dimedrious went on. "We exist for one purpose alone: To shield Averix from the horrors that come from that infernal abyss. Usually, that means killing all those little demons that slip out and possess a host. And let me tell you a little secret…"
The crowd collectively leaned forward to hear him, his voice having dropped to a whisper.
"YOU AREN’T READY!" he bellowed, sending a wave of the newbies flying back in terror.
"A Voidspawn-possessed creature is lightning fast, agile, and way smarter than some little kitten swinging around their pa’s axe. A battle with a resident of The Everloft ain’t no farmyard scuffle or tavern brawl in whatever shithole you’ve crept up here from. Give ‘em one hint of weakness, one misstep, and you’ll find yourself stewing away in the stomach of some corrupted beast.
"That’s why you’re here today," he stated, suddenly straight-backed and regal, rising to his full height. "You’re here so you can learn from the best – and you’re lookin’ at them, right here."
He turned to smile at Yelena for a moment before returning to deliver the end of his serious, no-nonsense speech.
"So watch closely," he grunted. "As I – Sir Dimderious, Captain of The Fangs of the Wolf – and my second – Swordmistress Yelena – show you some techniques."
He moved to draw a wooden greatsword from its sheath at one of the weapon racks nearby. He threw a similar longsword to Yelena, which she caught with a bewildered smirk.
The eyes of the crowd were lingering on her now. She could feel them. But as she and her Captain assumed their battle stance in the middle of the arena, she shot him a look that said, Swordmistress? Really?
"Hey, I gotta call you somethin’ to big you up," he whispered back at her with an impish grin that displayed all his fangs. "You don’t like it? Match me blow for blow, and I’ll take it back."
She smiled as she drew her practice blade and spread her feet apart.
"You’re on," she mouthed back.