“Savina Frost, in beautiful Safehaven. Who woulda ever thought it?”

Savina strode into Safehaven with an audacious swagger that announced her dominance to the world. Her soldiers followed her in a ‘V’ formation. Not because it presented any tactical advantage. Just because Savina thought they looked funny that way.

She could sense their barely-hidden loathing of her. And their fear. She singled out a pair of them, who were so upset about being under her command that they were considering abandoning the Order altogether. One of them believed he was only feeling a little restless, and was not yet fully aware that he was considering such a thing. That one Savina would have to keep an eye on; his eventual realization that he was actually contemplating leaving would likely hit him like a bolt of lightning, out of nowhere. Which made him unpredictable.

Still, who really cared if this one little soldier left the Order? Not her. That dullard Enek’Chok might. But who really cared about that guy, either? The only one Savina cared about in this whole thing, the only reason she stayed involved with the Order at all, was Malphor. And he might care. Or at least be disappointed in her if she didn’t at least try to control the man.

She didn’t want to deal with the hassle or drama the soldier might create, she decided. So she simply erased the line of thinking from his mind entirely, replacing it with a violent urge to hurt these pathetic Brightholme sheep. That might disappoint Malphor as well… but there was a limit to the amount of compromises she was willing to make.

Still, Malphor’s thoughts and wishes mattered to her. It was even possible she actually, legitimately cared about Malphor. But it was hard to be sure. When it came to emotions like caring and love and concepts like friendship, Savina had always found herself lacking. She understood emotions mostly from peering into other people’s minds, but was often baffled why those same people allowed themselves to be controlled by them.

Malphor was a mentor to her, for sure. But not a father figure. Ugh. That concept, which she knew many in the Order shared, had always made her want to vomit. He was more powerful than she was, by far. And wiser, in a way she conceded she would never be, or care to be. Yet he had always treated her like an equal, something he didn’t need to do. She had formed a unique bond with him somewhere along the line, which Savina attributed to his complete acceptance of who—and what—she truly was. He didn’t judge her, try to change her, or cast her out. Instead, he had made her a Master, regardless of whether she chose to follow the path of Ascension or not.

Her regiment was now at the northernmost edge of Safehaven, having made the trip on horseback as soon as the Godknight had taken his leave. That part of the mission had been accomplished to perfection. The next stage, for her, was rejoining Enek’Chok’s main legion and begining clean up duties. As in, cleaning up any Brightholmians stupid enough to still be resisting.

That was assuming the fight with the Godknight was over. Judging by the raging fires and smoke billowing into the air, Savina guessed it wasn’t. ‘Cool,’ she thought, rather gleefully. She still might get there in time to watch the pompous ass get crushed.

The sun had begun to peek through the overcast skies as the storm continued to move steadily away. The apex of Godknight Tower was not yet visible, but Savina thought it might be soon. She had passed through the city once when she was still very young, but the weather had been worse than it was today, and she had been unable to see the tower. And the Godknight had made no special appearances, either.

Today she was making up for that. She’d see both.

The scene in the streets around her was chaos. There were people clutching babies and running out of the city. Bleeding men and women, leaning heavily on their friends or family, limped along after them. The crowd was thick but disorganized, people smashing into each other and crying out in panic. Savina watched as an elderly man tripped and fell to the ground, and smiled widely as the out-of-control crowd nearly trampled the poor old fool.

But she was left disappointed when the people halted long enough to help the man to his feet before continuing on. Hmph. What a shame. And a waste. The simpleton would be dead of old age soon anyway, she thought, so why even bother?

Stolen story; please report.

Soldiers of the Order started popping up behind the fleeing citizens, grabbing who they could at random. Savina counted only a dozen or so soldiers, which likely meant they had just begun to spread out away from the center of the city. Once the city was secure, Enek’Chok would start sending out contingents of soldiers to begin the longer and more tedious task of taking over the smaller towns and villages. The soldiers would be given orders to offer those “lucky” people the chance to join the Order instead of being murdered on the spot, a tactic they had utilized in previous invasions. All of which held no interest to Savina. Hopefully there would be some high ranking “Elder” or something who they needed information from and couldn’t get. That interested her. Ripping though resistant minds always interested her.

The fleeing citizens steered clear of her and her Tools, which created a path through the oncoming herds that Savina strolled right through. One of Enek’Chok’s soldiers brushed up against her while in pursuit, and Savina shoved him away.

“Hey, watch it, fella. I’m with you guys. Don’t you see your fellow tools behind me?”

The soldier glanced at her and her Tools and grimaced. “Sorry, uh… ma’am.”

“Eh, get on with it then.”

“Could you guys, maybe—” the soldier started.

“Help you?” Savina interrupted. “Seriously? Like I don’t have more important things to do?” She implanted a thought deep in the soldier’s subconscious that he should always remember her and how awesome she was and wonder what he could do to make her life better.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “Of course I shouldn’t bother you with stuff like this. Please forgive me.” He turned his attention awkwardly to another random fleeing citizen. “Hey, you! Get back here!”

Savina scoffed and chuckled. Idiot. So many idiots in this fucking Order. But they didn’t have to all be smart, she supposed. So long as they were loyal.

She continued her way towards the middle of the city, passing through a park where some kind of resistance looked to have taken place. Bloody bodies lay strewn in the grass, propped against trees and leaning against benches. A heavy stone fountain was on its side, half shattered and spitting water.

She looked over her shoulder at her Tools. “Hey, you guys want to take a break in the park? We can sit around, have a picnic, maybe have some lunch?”

The Tools tried to hide their distaste, with varying degrees of success. Apparently “relaxing” among dead bodies wasn’t appealing to them.

“Puh,” she huffed. “Whatever.”

Savina’s thoughts returned to the red haired girl, as they had continuously since the two had parted ways. She attempted another cursory search for the girl’s mind but gave up after a few seconds. They were farther away now, and Savina was busy. When she had a chance to stop and take a few minutes… well, then they’d talk. She was looking forward to that talk. And their inevitable reunion.

Savina wasn’t sure where Enek’Chok would be sending her next, but she hoped it would be back up north. She would suggest it, for sure. But he was a stubborn old goat, one whose mind was all but closed to her. She’d have to convince him with spoken words.

She was much better with unspoken ones.

When she did get the chance to head up north, she knew where her first stop would be. She had picked up an interesting detail from the fringes of the girl’s subconscious on one of her scans, but had been too far along towards Safehaven to turn back and act on that juicy little tidbit.

As it turned out, Savina had been mere inches away from Ayla’s most prized possession, tucked away in the hollow of a tree trunk. A cloak of red the girl had crudely stitched together with patches and discarded material. The girl regretted leaving without it—it was that important to her—and wanted it back desperately.

That was a wish Savina felt certain she could fulfill.

That poor little thing. So sweet. So nice. And probably generous enough that she wouldn’t mind one bit if Savina borrowed her pretty little cloak. They were similar in size; the cloak would probably fit Savina just right. Heck, maybe once the girl saw how well it looked on Savina, she’d just give it to her!

A gift! From her Little Flower. How wonderful.

And what could Savina possibly have to offer in return…