The stone in the republic was hard. Everything was hard in this place. The earth, the sparse trees, the people who weathered the dangerous climes beyond modern civilization. Rough and untamed in a way that was hard to find in the civilized world. Tyr worked that stone now to the best of his ability, pushing the spellbreakers to their limit in compensation of his weak talent for the earth.

Through experience, he'd felt the elements, all of them. Air was fairly easy, for the little things, earth was moderate, and water was difficult. More than a stream of it and he was out of luck, maybe due to the incompatibility of his prime element.

But Tyr wasn't sure.

The system of magic was built around the prime element of the user, and everyone had one. Some were equally skilled with two, but people like that were irregular. Like Sigi, for example, a person who was simply built different from birth. Even in Tyr's wildest bouts of arrogance he's never claim that never of talent, and he couldn't. Fire was all he had, casting 'spells' with any other element was impossible, all he did was bend them to his will otherwise.

Every human who could use magic should be able to use all of the elements, but there was always that one talent that came easy. Rather than it being an inborn element, Tyr felt it must be some component of the soul. Personality, and attunement with the arcane or spiritual worlds.

Fire was hot and passionate, whereas Tyr was cold and distant most times – but he shared its indiscriminate nature. Its violence. Even it's will to protect those who tended to it. He didn't know, but he liked speaking to them. Feeling the elements caress his soul when he called out, always answering nowadays. Like they were his friends, in a way, all of them were so gentle and intimate with him in a way living things couldn't be. Except for Okami, nobody could possibly challenge the bond a man had with his pup.

They all have their own flavor, almost thoughts. Wishes and wants. Earth was hard and unyielding at first, but when presented with a greater force than itself it moved in a way that the other elements didn't. It yearned for stability, and control. Earth was stubborn, but for those capable of speaking its language it was loyal, protective, and steadfast. Just like the gods who belonged to the house of the same name.

Father Bumi on his iron mountain who protected all lands from the sea, gave men what they needed to arm and ward themselves against the threats in the night. Swords and axes cast from his lifeblood deep beneath the earth. Freyja who loved all living things and was their mother, nourishing them and softening the unyielding rock until it became fertile earth. Aran the warden of the forest, and Duma of the soil who blessed the harvests and made them whole. Calling the sun itself to her side to feed the masses and see their bellies full.

Water, the element of spirituality, and a duality in temperament. As inconsistent as Tyr was as a person, he had the least compatibility with it for whatever reason. Perhaps he was more simple than he appeared, water was complex – it flowed and changed.

Air, adaptive and free, Tyr felt this element keenly and had no problem using it – the issue being that blowing air on things rarely did much in the way of resolving an issue.

And finally, fire. The element of passion, rage, heightened emotions of all kind – but also love, compassion, and the need to nurture. Tyr... Contrary to calling it to his side at all times, he understood this element the least.

“That turned out better than I thought.” Okami said, impressed. “You have a fine hand for this sort of thing. Sculpturing?”

“Sculpting. I'm sure that in this context, both words work.” Tyr shrugged. He'd been at it for a week straight, no sleeping, and it was finally finished. Staring up at the truly massive reliefs of Benny, Abe, and Xavier. Their faces carved into the side of a mountain, larger than life. He don't know why he did it... He just did. People could forget, if they wanted to, Tyr accepted that – but he never would. “They were part of me, I just hadn't seen that yet. And now they are gone, so I'll make sure they live on as long as I can. I wish I had said more... Spent more time with them. I can't allow myself to continue taking these things that make and shape me for granted.”

“It's a fair rendition if I remember them correctly.” Okami said. “It is, as the two legs say, very romantic – I think. They would have been proud.”

“There is no romance in honoring our dead, Okami. Paying them their due. They saved this world – quite literally, and nobody will ever thank them for their sacrifice. They will be forgotten just like all of the rest. No medals, no awards, not even a funeral. It's haunting, isn't it? That dawning existential dread that fills you when you realize how temporary and insignificant you are.”

“You feel that dread, partner?”

“No.” Tyr replied calmly. “I will live, and I will continue living. All I can truly hope for is being a hero worth remembering, but I have a lot of work to do before I'm worthy of that sort of honor.”

Okami didn't respond, just staring on. Beasts of the forest did not bury their dead, even the sentient ones. Some would burn their corpses to eliminate the chance of offal attracting competition to their territory, but that was all. There were no funerals, only memories. And one day, even memories return to the earth, as all things were meant to. Deep beneath the sod and soil there were a billion bones of the forgotten, to believe oneself worthy of more memory than all those beneath was not natures way.

“Why here, then?” Okami finally asked, after a long moment of contented observation of this new addition to the mountain range. They had traveled quite far, crossing the length of Leygein, Tyr had arrived at Aurora before abruptly turning back. One village after another, but he never stayed, always walking through. Rarely eating in the last few weeks either, until Okami forced something onto him. “What about this place in particular?”

“I wanted to see a forest again, but this isn't much. The land is too rocky here, the trees don't take and they end up as thin things. All of the forests seem to be near the coast or at the center of the nation, and I'm not interested in walking that far. Mostly, though, it's because I want to keep moving. To see new things and keep my mind occupied.”

“You miss her. I understand, brother.”

“I did not realize how important she was, having her around. How relieved and safe I felt in her company, I took her for granted too. Yes, I miss her. But most of all, I feel a vague foreboding and anxiety when she is not within view of me. Jura is not strong in magic like the others are, and I am worried as any man would be.”

“Not upset anymore?”

“I'm certainly upset.” Tyr snorted, scowling. “I'm too selfish not to be. I'm going to camp in this area a while, I think. The mountain range is nice and flat, I might even do some forging. Go on ahead and see if you can find anything interesting.”

Okami gave him a halfhearted 'you sure?' - but the wolf liked to run and play. Tyr was not capable, physically, of keeping up with him. It was better to let him range a bit like the great beast he was, rather than enforcing proximity at all times. And Okami didn't argue – he could feel what Tyr felt and knew that hurt sometimes required solitude to mend. A lot had happened of late, and Tyr was all twisted up inside and confused again. Forcing an issue would only crack that glass he seemed made of these days.

“Call if you need me.”

“I'll do that, partner. But I wouldn't count on it, I doubt there's anything in these woods that could bother me.”

“That's true.” Okami chuckled. “You are a small thing, but you are mighty. I am proud of you.”

“Stop licking my face, your breath stinks!”

“Does it?”

“No. You always smell good to me, brother. But please go, I need to be alone right now.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“I will. And Okami?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you. You should know that.”

“I love you too, partner, and I always have.” Okami replied with his wolf 'smile', bounding off into the forest and howling all the way. To run and play as the wolves did, and greet his kin, as great a beast as he might be – like Tyr – he was still just a child. Not a pet. Not a servant. Part of him in a way he could never properly articulate to anyone else.

–

There were few things more pleasant than the crackle of crisping flesh against the scalding hot surface of cast iron. Technically speaking, Tyr could effortlessly cook things with his bare hands. All he needed was some sort of reference for temperature and it'd be perfect every time. But it was hard to infuse proper flavors in things when he did it like that. Butter, herbs, it's not like he could hold these things in his cupped hands. Good food always required time to get the flavor and the crust just right. Even if the cook time wasn't exactly perfect, that was hardly the most important part of a meal.

A bear lumbered into his line of sight, a hulking beast with gray dappling on its black fur. Standing even at the shoulder with the crown of Tyr's head. Truly massive, a tremendously beautiful animal with intelligent eyes – but they all felt like that. Even the birds. Humanity liked to describe these creatures as 'dumb', lacking in intelligence, but Tyr knew. He always had, they were evolved and developed for a purpose and the fact they still existed was proof they'd achieved that.

Just a bear, a normal one. It approached him curiously, sniffing at the air and drooling onto the ground. But it didn't come too close, staying at the edge of his makeshift camp and flashing him beggars eyes. He noticed that animals did that to him quite frequently. There were times that a doe or other skittish prey animal would just look at him before returning to their grazing. If it was just Tyr, they wouldn't always run away. Sometimes they would even come lick the salt from his boots while he was wandering, rubbing their heads and necks against his legs. This bear was similar, but it was also afraid. Maybe it saw another predator who had violated its territory, but inherently recognized him as the superior lifeform in a potential conflict.

It didn't want to hurt him, or be hurt. The healthy golden brown of the bears eyes burned into him, it was afraid - perhaps its instinct making it aware that Tyr was something monstrous. But it needed to eat.

Tyr had no interest in bringing harm to begin with. An animal was just an animal, they didn't deserve abuse of any kind. Anyone who would hurt one of them without purpose or a need to feed was below filth in his mind, one of the worst possible crimes. All men were sinful by nature, they'd all – each and every one of them – done wrong. An animal couldn't. They were pure, like children. Like Okami.

He cut the haunch of the elk clean in two and lay a platter of it on the ground. He'd cooked a bit more that he'd need anyways, planning to save the rest for the following days lunch.

“Go ahead, big man.” He said to the bear. “I won't hurt you, and I'm not some delivery boy about to bring you a free meal. Come and get it for yourself, you fat shit.”

It snuffled in the air a bit before approaching, it's brown eyes looking about, doglike snout cautiously taking in the scents all around. Waiting for the bite of a hunters trap, or tugging of the net that had caught it as a cub.

Humans weren't the only ones to suffer these days.

Predator animals too strong to be targeted by weaker monsters, and too slow to catch them were all were near starvation. They'd hunted all of the larger prey in the region, and most herds had fled. This bear was a victim, living off berries and what fish it could catch from the modest rivers to survive. Making it, but it was in dire straits – fall would come soon, and then winter. It's coat of fat was much too thin for the cold season.

“Ah...” Tyr sighed with a shake of his head. “Not a 'big man' after all. My apologies, mother.”

Whether the bear could understand him or respond at all was irrelevant. He had always thought animals could understand people, they just couldn't answer in tongue. If not the words, then intent. Smarter than humans gave them credit for. This time, two stumpy and very adorable cubs came barreling out from beneath their mothers legs, sniffing at him in delight. Their eyes naturally gravitated toward the plate of meat and vegetables, chomping away as the mother lifted a paw in the air, looking prised to take Tyr's head off.

She could, if she'd wanted to – this one was close to awakening. Problem was, his would always grow back.

But eventually, after a time where he remained calm and languid in his motions, she relaxed, allowing her children to finish the meal in lieu of herself.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“You're a good mom.” Tyr smiled, handing over the rest of his supper. The bear made a sound and a creasing of the eyes that might insinuate a frown, or some sort of confusion. “I have plenty more, go ahead.”

She did, though, able to read him as something who wasn't a threat. Smarter than humans gave them credit for. So engrossed in her meal that she didn't notice the elder-spirit pack up and leave. Dropping two horse carcasses and a pile of apples on the ground as he went.

Enough for the winter.

There was a haunting sadness in it, a loneliness seeing those cubs running with their mother. Tyr wanted that. That... Family? He couldn't ever possibly put a word to the gnawing sort of mourning in his soul when he saw that simple, practically thoughtless contentment.

He was going to find it.

By any means necessary.

A wolf needed a pack. Tyr was nothing without his, but he was still very much afraid - unable to reconcile the way his aspect influence people around him. He'd never be able to trust humans. He'd never be sure.

–

The world was an unfair and harsh place. To surrender oneself to the will of a god was to stare that inequity in the face and kneel before it. That's what Lina thought, shipped off to the monastery before she could so much as read or write. Sorted into the house of water based on her prime element, and finding as comfortable a home as any in the service to Nyx.

Paladins liked to talk about their god or their house so intimately, as if they were the true chosen of one divine or another. Lina felt Her still, but when she called out – she rarely received an answer.

Now, she realized why the paladins and priests were so devout. This world would chew you up and spit you out if one didn't find a way to cope with all the bleakness. Lina had always been surrounded by strong men and women, playing at the idea of being a servant of the gods. Alone now, for the first time ever, on her 'pentinent crusade'.

Her last chance to avoid being expelled wholesale from the church and rejected. The darkness that pervaded the world wasn't something romantic. There was no antagonist, only the breaking down of order amidst calamity. People turned on one another, their tight knit communities falling apart at the drop of a hat, stealing and murdering.

Village after village she'd traveled to, responding to petitions for aid all across the republic. At least half of them were butcher shows. Every time she saw the red paths between their ruined houses she felt something in her strain until it felt like it was going to break.

It was a lesson, one that she'd learned slowly – but inevitably. It was no wonder some of the strongest warriors in all the lands were so irrevocably cracked in the head.

She'd come here to hunt monsters, as the gods desired, and found more monsters in man than in the creatures haunting the periphery. Left wondering what the point of it all was. There was no great victory to win... To usher in a golden age of peace, everything was evil and would continue to be so long after she perished. Adventurers broke their oaths, killing, raping, and stealing – slaughtering whole towns when their ransoms were not paid. What kind of gods allowed such a thing to happen?

And the world? The churches? They could care less, all part of the status quo and doing the bare minimum to maintain their influence. She'd encountered the lantern bearers of Stenn, and the path of flame followers of Astarte and Agni, but that was it. Dozens of gods and their followers had all retreated back to protect their respective monasteries.

The few that ranged across the land continued battling, but not with any pure intention. All the flame priests wanted was a good fight, and the bearers who walked alone would not kill a human no matter how far they had fallen. Law, they said, existed not to give them the authority to become judges and executioners.

Neighbors killing neighbors over scraps of bread for the first time in generations. In this era, people didn't starve, it just didn't happen. Magic saw to that, but that was only in an orderly society. She had seen how the republic maintained the ability to deactivate the wards preventing dimensional mages from crossing the country – but they hadn't.

Even when a hundred thousand souls or more went hungry, requests for aid fell on deaf ears. She did not understand. And her goddess wouldn't answer.

Willis had once said they called alcoholic beverages 'spirits' because the godmancers and benders of the elements before the official foundations of the church had been laid would drink them until they were blind drunk. To come closer to their spirits, or the gods, in an era long passed. Something about relaxing the inhibitions of the human mind, relieving themselves temporarily of wants and worries – allowed them to 'hear the voices of the world' with greater clarity.

No matter how much she drank, though, no great clarity or voice came to her. Which altogether wasn't surprising, Lina had never seen a drunk she'd have declared a prophet. All she felt was a cloudy static in her head, and a rumbling stomach. It had its uses though, that was for sure – where before she had felt despondent and lost, unable to get those imagines out of her mind... Now, all of that had been replaced with jittery anger.

Enough of this. She chided herself.

People needed her, and when she liberated them from their fears – Nyx would hear her and reply properly this time. Standing and walking, or more appropriately lurching toward the door, the grim faced men in the wayside inn guffawed at her attempts. Saying things about women and their tolerance for alcohol, and worse.

Unsolicited comments on her figure, even a few had the gal to call out 'where is your god now?'. But Lina didn't spare them a glance, her mind was full of the same exact question. Inappropriate thoughts for a paladin, and she hated herself for it, but she was as fallible as any other man or woman.

Stumbling, weaving through the streets, something that would've been easier if it were daylight. This was a small frontier outpost on the northern border of Leygein before the towering mountains split this state from the next. Her hand hit the pillar holding the roof of an open walled stable and she immediately vomited. She'd never had more than the communion wine on her rare visits to the house of light, or a sip here and there from a wineskin.

Lina was very unfit for drink, feeling it now. The bitter tang of hot watery filth scratching her throat on its way out, in a torrent that left her gasping for breath only to choke her again. Leaving a pile of unmentionables on the ground, she began to sag and sob, until a strong hand steadied her shoulder, the other holding back her hair.

“Just let it out.” The voice of a man said, soft and friendly. “Better out than in, I always say. Had a bit too much to drink, happens to the best of us. Aye men?”

“Aye lass, no shame in it. No need to weep.”

“Oi, she looks familiar. Where do I know her face from?”

“Dunno, kinda dark eh? Silver ranked adventurer, must be in the archives. Blue Rose by the looks of her.”

Someone chuckled at that. “All the pretty ones are always Blue Rose. Always puzzled me how that arrogant lot managed to scoop so many of 'em. Lucky...”

“Behave, Rolf.”

Lina turned, steadied by the hand of a large, pale man. He had wild chestnut hair all tangled up in testament to a rough time about it on the road a ways.

“Thank you.” She slurred, her eyes so watery that she couldn't make out much more than their silhouettes in the dim torchlight.

“Och, it's our pleasure – lady knight. What are ye doing out here? Where's your party?”

“I am alone.” Lina said, leaving out the fact that she was of the pentinent. She didn't want to see scathing looks from people she felt genuine gratitude for. Finally, some friendly faces after a sea of glares and glazed stares. “Who are you?”

“Dynasty, reckon.” The leader, based on the way the others crowded around him, said with a smile. “Why don't you come with us?” He asked. “We'll take good care of you, and you can leave in the morning.”

“I'm sorry.” Lina stumbled on her words again, feeling that strong, powerful arm aiding her. These were good people and she appreciated the brotherly sentiment, but she was supposed to walk her path alone. A paladin on crusade was only supposed to communicate with others of the various churches, godsworn like themselves. An unspoken rule designed to prevent any questions or temptation against faith from clouding their purpose. “I can't do that, I have places to go and I am only here for the night. Thank you for your assistance, but I'll take it from here. I have already done enough wrong by drinking during my travels, I need not find more distraction.”

“That's too bad.” The stout man with the heavy inland accent said from behind his boss man. A twang in his voice and a clicking of the tongue. “Easier when they--” There was a thud and a crunch, the man's skull caved in with the heel of an iron shod boot. A clicking sound of bones slamming against one another.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a phantasm shrouded in a voluminous cloak and buckled leather armor had fallen from the sky.

'Look out!' Lina wanted to cry, to turn and address this new threat. But all she could do was retch again.

“Oi!” The leader yelled, scrabbling for the hatchet at his waist. All in vain, the lower half of his jaw swiped clean away by a silver hammer. Leaving a sickening, bubbly whistling as the mans body failed to process the fact it no longer had a mouth. His tongue half torn away by the force, twitching and wriggling like the fleshy blood worms fisherman used to reel in larger catches. It only took her a moment to recognize the figure, a mask too burnt into her memories to ever forget.

“Tyr!” She shouted, nearly vomiting again when left lurching on her own two feet with no support. Six men arrived, and six men died. He was fast, that man, a bloody handed murderer with the body of a gymnast well capable of slaughtering a grown man with a slap.

Lina stepped forward and punched the air with all her might. “Aqua lance!” A meter long barb of pressurized water slammed into his midsection, eliciting a muffled groan to greet the satisfying thump.

“Winter's bloom!” The water sank into his gut, expanding, doubling and then tripling in size. Opening his torso up like forceps, a half meter diameter of half frozen flesh plucked away by the roots, and blossoms of a crystalline construct of thorny roses. Filling his body and freezing his blood.

It was one of the most painful spells she knew, the 'Blue Rose' weren't called such because they were athletic, fashion forward women. They were called that because they had been founded by an ice mage who had excelled at punishing men for their various transgression in the most painful way possible. The blue rose, named after the Oresund native flowers that melted in more southern climes. Yet rich nobles would pay for them anyways, just to stare, to hold such tremendously rich water mana in their hands. But you never touched a blue rose directly, those roses liked the blood.

“I always knew you were a monster! Murderer! Scum!” She shouted, letting the stems and thorns reach deeper into his body. Every ounce of her frustration and self deprecation lending power to her violent assault. Lacerating his flesh all over, emerging in some places. Lina wasn't cruel enough to use this on anything but a monster. Unfortunately, contrary to her expectation, Tyr didn't seem as incapacitated as he should be. A near imperceptible gritting of the teeth and some bloodshot in the eyes, and that was all. He remained still throughout, a scarecrow caught in the grip of winter. A marionette made bouquet. “You're the one killing those villagers...! Why? Even for you – this is sick! Demented. I will put you down, right here and now!”

“Get down.” Tyr growled. Odd that he could speak, his lungs should be flash frozen dust under such intense cold. There had been no wards, no defense against her spell. He had even let his armor recede around his midriff and simply accepted it. But why...? Lina was well aware of his unique ability, and his ability to resist pain. But it was more than that, the magic was slipping through his body as if he were barely there at all.

That didn't mean it didn't take its toll – but dragging himself by force from the equivalent of frozen barbed wire was insane. A mockery of mans limitations.

“What are you do--” He stepped through the ice, tearing his left arm in two and ignoring the barbs flaying him like a fish. It wasn't just physical, either. The blue rose was a specialty, an incapacitating spell designed to be so painful one would cease attempting to move. Mages wouldn't dare chant a spell or activate an artifact when it had them. What emerged was a half-skinned mockery of a man, with a face flayed of flesh, grinning eternal. Tyr grabbed her by the neck, gently, but wasn't so gentle with the spine popping force by which he slammed her into the ground. She could feel his weight on top of her, the wormy skin of his face knitting back together with a liquid sound. How his muscles slurped and squelched to bind the torn pieces of him back together.

He was so close to her so she could smell his breath. It was warm, faint undertones of chicken broth and bay leaf. It wasn't unpleasant, though the situation may be. Tyr was denser than she'd thought he'd be, forcing her beneath his weight and pinning her arms and legs to the ground with his own. Wheezing excitedly all the while, an indescribable sort of hunger in his eyes.

She felt his pelvis sink between her thighs, smearing blood all over her as his tongue flicked out and licked his new pair of lips. A fel thing. An unnatural thing was he. And he was raping her. She could feel it, how it'd been described a dozen times over. How they breathed on you and stared directly into the eyes of the woman as they begged for mercy. She tried to stop it, but it had happened so fast. Before she knew it her breastplate was grinding against his own heart protector, and she was left helpless.

Struggling under the weight, unable to dislodge the lunatics strength.

Tyr jerked, shuddering in what must've been some ecstasy over the power he felt. Lina felt sick again, more sick than she'd ever felt in her life, his pelvis grinding against her own uncomfortable. Thrashing and biting at his throat before he went slack and she hoisted him off of her.

His back was riddled with a score of arrows, barbed tips, some of them enchanted. There was a javelin buried in his thigh and the broad blade of an axe lodged in his skull, but he was moving. He always did, like some kind of demon that refused its exorcism. The mythical beasts from the old tales in living color, evil things and nightmares made manifest.

Lina scrambled away, backing up on all fours until her back slammed against the fence of the stable, continuing on until she'd crawled inside. She didn't know where the weapons had come from, all those that had found their way into his flesh, but he was still coming. Lurching on all fours with a disgusting smile on his lips. Tugging her up from the ground and blown away by a kicking horse maddened over the scent of blood.

She stood to run before falling again, panting and wheezing to find her saviors. But all she found was a great while wolf covered in sticky blood, dripping at the maw, hair matted with it, a young boy standing at his feet. All around the two was death. Easily a dozen men torn apart by the beast.

That beast from her nightmares.

“Get away from there!” Lina shouted to the boy, pulling at her reserves in seeing such a young one in dire need of aid. This was her time, a gift from Nyx to prove her worth. She stood. “Tundra--” Lina shouted the spell. Would've done. If a heavy weight hadn't taken her by the back of her head and sent her into darkness.