The War at Home...

The blizzard persists throughout the night...

Only late dawn brings reprieve...

Things are already behind schedule...

"Fucking hell, I'm freezing my ass off..." Ryn chatters while profusely rubbing her arms. She feels the chill of winter through her thick furred coat and pants, and even her well-maintained boots. Bits of snow cling to her fair-featured face while bluish eyes wince at the rising sun. She stands on the patio with Marcus; the man glances at Ryn's backside with curious green eyes, then shakes his head. The messily-haired blonde speaks with a joking voice.

"No, your ass is still back there. You probably just never had enough to fee-" he expertly sways away from Ryn's telegraphed swing at his face and cackles. "Whoa!" he laughs. Ryn's eyes lock onto his when she talks.

"Bitch, don't test me," she calmly threatens, though her lack of further aggression implicates her lack of anger at his quips. Marcus snorts, submissively holding his arms up and apologizing.

"No, you're right. I'm sorry," Marcus lowers his arms and crosses them, tilting his head a moment in thought before a grin creases his lips. Ryn stops him before he says anything, her tone nonchalant while her eyes stay forward. Her power of discovery was her favorite ability.

"Actions and words have potential consequences, Marcus..." Ryn chimes, flexing her fingers as if examining her nails while threatening the man without a glancing look. "Like playing with fire and ice..." she snaps a flame to life in one hand and a burst of frost in the other simultaneously, then slowly drags her unamused gaze toward him. "For example..." she pauses, looking the man in his eyes for the longest time. Marcus quickly fixes his face and corrects his posture.

"I get the message," he assures, crossing his arms and looking out at the village from the deck of the dinner hall. The vibe shifts when he speaks, his tone serious and to the point. "Have you gone to see your parents yet? They'll wanna know the discovery you made," he says, and Ryn quickly dismisses him as she leans her upper half over the snow-covered banister, lazily burying her chin and a mess of black hair in her palm.

"Nope," she curtly responds. Marcus flashes his annoyance.

"Are you guys still at odds?" he asks, and Ryn promptly replies without remorse.

"Yuh," she says with a weird twist on the word, drawing Marcus's disappointed eye.

"You know that they had no choice, right?" Marcus asks.

"Yeah, they did," Ryn replies, clearly disinterested in the conversation. Marcus persists, however. Ryn thinks it's his most annoying trait as her friend.

"You know if something happened to either of you, you'd all be devastated, right?" he asks, and Ryn pauses this time before still replying...

"I won't be," she shrugs. Marcus tilts his head in both disbelief and mild awe.

"Are you really that petty? Ryn, one of Trinity's Fated?" he asks in sheer disgust and disbelief, hoping the woman snaps out of her childish antics. Ryn, however, glances his way with that same disinterested look in her eyes. Her look is enhanced as she clicks her tongue for emphasis before coldly answering.

"Yes, I am..." Ryn says without a hint of remorse or regret in her features, and Marcus falls quiet. Ryn, however, snaps; she's tired of this conversation. "I will never forgive them, Marcus..." She steps toward him, her tone intensifying along with her cold and piercing stare.

"You say they had no choice, but they did..." She stops and stands a mere foot from him, looking slightly higher into his eyes with a scowl that fought back rage. "That choice was ME! All they had to do was have some trust. IN. ME!" she barks at him, unable to contain her rage at that very last moment. Marcus steps back in genuine shock but keeps his calm when he replies.

"Easy..." he raises his hands, showing he's no threat and meant no harm. "I understand you, Ryn. Believe me, I do..." he slowly approaches her, and Ryn remains still. She stands there as a bottle about to burst, a cyclone of roused emotions circulating through her spirit over what should've been a harmless conversation.

"But, there are some people that you just cannot save..." Marcus responds, reaching and resting his hand on her shoulder. Ryn twitches, but stays still. However, she never makes eye contact from hereon with him. "They were trying to save you and the villa--" he never gets the words out as Ryn shoves him back with enough force it staggers him. The woman's physical strength naturally enhanced from being a vessel of magical potential.

"They didn't give a damn about my brother!" She snarls. "The moment they discovered my gifts they changed, Marcus. That's what you don't fucking GET!" she angrily smashes her left arm against the banister, fracturing it. "You keep trying to be this righteous and morally correct son of a bitch sometimes and it makes me want to set you on fire!" she grasps her hair and loudly groans, walking away from the man before blowing an even bigger fuse.

"I'm just trying to help yo-" Marcus starts, signing his grave as Ryn snaps!

"You can't help someone that never fucking asked to be helped, Marcus!" Ryn sighs then suddenly pauses and breathes. This happens several times before the young woman holds her hands up, dropping the subject and looking at Marcus's way again. The broadening rays of the rising sun alter the shadows they cast against the wall by the second.

"We need to get this schedule planned out and get the materials to spruce up our armory. When is the mining party going out?" Ryn politely asks, and Marcus exhales in surrender before answering her question.

"In roughly an hour. We're doing some routine gear checks and then the sled dogs are taking off," he speaks with frost and vigor in his words. He cracks a sly smile, remembering some good news. "The Turok family decided to work with the Yagyu in making these new weapons. We're going to be getting some of those eastern blades around here soon with silver-dust flair," he chuckles, and Ryn eye rolls.

"I'll stick with native forging techniques, thanks. But, the more variation we have, the better," Ryn declines, blowing a puff of air into her chilled palms, then glancing his way. "I'll need a couple of pouches of Stardust before my next trip into Boreal Forest. I caught that Lycan off guard last time. If I encounter another one, odds are they know I can use magic..." she reminds, and a question pops into Marcus's head.

"Actually, I want to know more about your encounter with that Lycan," he says, earning Ryn's curiosity through her lofted brows. Marcus folds his arms but keeps one free for gesturing. "Your story at the tavern implies you only saw one, right?" he recalls, and Ryn nods. Marcus cups his chin now.

"What if that's the last Lycan? That's probably why he called out to you. He might've thought you were like him. I mean..." he pauses, chuckles, and gestures toward the Boreal Forest. "Who else wants to live in that but a vicious beast?" he argues. Ryn confidently shakes her head.

"He's not alone. I promise you..." she pauses before correcting herself. "At least, he's not the only one now..." she says, and Marcus huffs.

"What's the story behind the Fated Trinity, again?" he asks while gesturing toward her eyes. "Your eyes are magical and give you special powers, or some bullshit?" he curses as a joking dismissal of it all, and Ryn deadpans.

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"It's not bullshit if I'm living proof it's real, dumbass..." she retorts, now answering his question. "I can't tell you the whole legend because I don't know it. All I know are fragmented pieces. Humans weren't much for writing back then when they were fighting against extinction. Anyway," she catches her rambling.

"From what I've pieced together, I am a Descendant: a direct ancestor to Adam and Eve. Don't ask what that means beyond my ability to use magic, or as one of Trinity's Fated because I can't answer. All I know is that my eyes are capable of seeing fragments of people's futures and the outcomes of certain, life-changing events. But, that's all it does so far: show me. It doesn't tell me when or where it happens, but I see the final moments of that event. However, I am always capable of changing or letting it happen in the end. I've tested it multiple times..." she answers, and Marcus goes silent. There's a long pause before Marcus asks another question.

"So, you can see the forks in the roads of life-changing decisions in other people's lives? Is that the gist of it?" he inquires, only speaking after Ryn affirms. "What about your own? Can you see things that'll directly affect yourself?" he asks, and Ryn pauses. She slowly shakes her head after some hesitation, and Marcus asks another question.

"Are you fated to change the world? Is it written in stone?" he asks, and Ryn shakes her head again after hesitating for longer this time. She knows what Marcus is doing, and she is powerless to stop him every time he does it. The blonde man inflicts another introspective question. This one wounds Ryn's ambition the most.

"Do you want to die young?" Marcus asks. "Because that's what'll happen if you don't control your emotions and let your passion get the better of you. As you've realized through this questioning, you might be gifted, but you are not invulnerable. When you die, that's it," he enforces, and Ryn finally snaps, scowling at him like always every time she's had enough.

"I'm not stupid, Marcus," Ryn says, and Marcus agrees with her.

"I never said you were. However, power makes people feel untouchable. I just wanted to drop this knowledge on you," he snarks, and Ryn huffs in annoyance.

"You're fucking irritating sometimes. I don't know why I hang with you," she fights a laugh, getting dusting herself off and bracing for the day. "I should get going. I--" Ryn suddenly pauses mid-sentence and flicks her gaze to the side, squinting at someone darting off behind a shack. Marcus notices and tracks her suspicious gaze.

"Something wrong?" he asks, and Ryn's eyes shoot back his way.

"... No, it's nothing..." Ryn assures after a few seconds, brushing away bangs of hair from her brow. "I'm leaving now. Keep patrols tight and steady like you usually do, tough guy!" she flickers away and reappears in the street, jogging off toward the shack. Marcus watches her leave in silence, then sighs before donning his helmet and getting his day started.

"Stay safe, Ryn."

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A lanky-looking woman dressed in ragged furs slips through the backstreets of the snow-covered village. Her matted and brittle gray hair blended with the white snow draping her shoulders and head. Her eyes are sunken as if starving, her nose is wrinkled and splotchy like her face and skin, and her raspy breathing echoes in the air. She darts past unsuspecting passersby viewing her as senile, eventually coming to the outskirts of the village where she ascends a hill for cover and stops in its basin. The lady clicks her teeth, then shakes out her hands with excitement. This is the greatest day of her life. Neither the bone-chilling cold nor the freezing wind cools her newfound vigor.

"Ahhhh!" she trembles with excitement as she looks at her shivering hands, a toothy grin revealing prominent canines. "Praise Historia! At long last, she blesses me with her Gaze! For, I have found one of the Fated and confirmed the continued existence of those mongrels! My luck is nothing but a blessing! I shall ascend to be one of Them!" she giggles, struggling to contain ages of dormant glee and excitement for the slaughter she's long awaited! She's ecstatic!

"Soon, I'll no longer have to live with these weaklings! I won't need to feast on wild animals to satiate my imperfect hunger and keep my cover. Oh, I can't wait! I can't wait!" she exclaims, far enough from the village that nobody hears her sudden outburst. Or, she thought until Ryn rests her arm on the woman's smaller frame. The hag freezes as Ryn speaks in a rather cold, intense tone.

"For what?" Ryn inquires, her hand wrapping around the hag's shoulders and her blue eyes looking into the old woman's. They make eye contact, and Ryn points at the woman with her free hand. "You should've contained your excitement until you got away. If Lycans are still around, I knew it wouldn't take long until I saw one of you parasites," she sighs, slightly tightening her fingers on the hag's shoulder. The hag bears her stained teeth, her one remaining fang as nasty looking as the rest of her gumline.

"We are Vampires, you disgusting human!" the hag swipes at Ryn's face and misses as Ryn teleports a short distance away. The black-haired Descendant eyes the parasite with mild disgust, but slight amusement. The way she responds almost sounds like she's bragging in a sense.

"No," Ryn corrects, exhaling as she claps her hands together, sparking blue flames. "You are not one of them. You're a parasite: they turned you into a bare minimum supernatural monstrosity that still needs blood to survive because they need competent, but easily discardable fodder," she falls quiet, closing her eyes and laughing at it all. "Humans fit that criteria, I guess. But, I'm not like them," she reminds clasping her hands together, then stringing them as if drawing a bow with her fingertips. A flaming bluish-white arrow of coalesced magical energy whirrs in her grasp, its target the abomination in front of her.

"Before I kill you, I have a question..." Ryn says, but the parasite isn't listening and rushes her first. Ryn collapses the arrow into her palms and blows into them, spraying the burning magical energy like a dragon over the rushing monstrosity. The flames ignite the hag's cursed flesh, setting her ablaze. She screams in pain, but no sounds escape her burning lips. The roaring magical flames snuff out her noises of agony, an additional torturous effect created by Ryn's ingenious and spontaneous whim.

Ryn snaps her fingers and the fire stops, leaving the seared hag half-dead in the melted snow. The Descendant quietly strolls over and kneels near the parasite's head, close enough to softly speak but far enough to evade a surprise retaliation.

"I'm perfectly fine with standing out here and torturing you for as long as I need to. I don't need to scare my village by exposing you..." Ryn pauses, eyeing her hands as warm, purplish-black haze wisps through her fingers. "So far, I've mastered Spirit Energy, which is what I used on you," she tilts her head for emphasis. "It burns differently than regular fire when used on supernatural monsters like you, and the rest. It hurts more, the wounds last longer, and it stalls natural healing if it burns deep enough," she glances at the barely alive parasite staring back at her with a half-melted face twisted in terror.

"I'm learning to use a darker form of magic, though. If the history nut in me is right, this magic's a knockoff imitation of Their magic, but it's effective against weaklings like you," Ryn smiles and flashes her open and fully extended palms covered in a sickly, Dark Energy. The woman's smile is a little too convincing. "You're going to become an unwilling test subject for some practice if you don't answer my questions..." she beams, and the barely moving hag venomously spits at Human, the parasite's melting flesh falling off her bones. Humans turned by vampires were still unnaturally resilient monsters even if they scraped the bottom of the food chain.

"You'll get nothing from me but curses, you vermin!" the pompous, raspy-sounding woman scoffs. "That undeserved arrogance will have you flayed and your skull on a stick! We haven't been hiding like you foolishly believed. No, we were waiting!" she chuckles, and Ryn sighs before standing. The thoroughly burned parasite continues ranting and cursing, fueled with undeserved pride and sheer ignorance.

"We'll discover where those mongrels hide, and once we have their Fated exterminated! We shall crush all of yo-" The woman's speech cuts short, silenced with a refined blast of magic through her opened mouth. The corpse bursts into flames before turning to ashes, and Ryn lowers her hand with an annoyed grunt.

"Sorry..." Ryn chirps with a shrug. "I only like speeches when I'm the one giving them. Thanks for confirming there's more of you around and who your targets are, though. I'll be sure to plan accordingly. Cheers!" she two finger waves the corpse farewell before vanishing in a flare of magic. The woman always had suspicions that the world around her would change upon realizing her abilities. She didn't expect the dominoes to fall so quickly, though. It hasn't been forty-eight hours since her encounter with that Lycan, either...

Ryn returns to the village a short while later, quickly approaching a patrolling squad of humans dressed in fur and metal armor mixes, and carrying various melee weapons and bows. "Hey! Do you guys know if we have any garlic?" she inquires, and one of the soldiers quickly answers, almost too quickly.

"Yes!" he quickly chirps, making sure Ryn saw him answer her. He's a young man of similar age with a hardy, lithe stature and mature features and a conventional cuteness to him. "We keep staple stocks of them for cooking soups and stews," he says, clearly trying to keep Ryn's attention. The woman flashes him a thumbs up and a smile.

"Thanks! Where's the head chef? The dining hall?" she asks, and the soldier nods again. Ryn beams and waves while walking off, making sure to add a little flair to her departure as a gift to the man she saw right through. "Thanks, love! See ya around!" she says and vanishes again. The other soldiers side-eye the young man as they resume patrol, and the soldier can't help but quip.

"She most definitely thinks I'm cute," he cackles, and everyone else tells him to shut up.

If only they knew the seriousness of Ryn's inquiry...

Hopefully, she manages to keep them ignorant...

The discovery of Lycans nearby is enough scary news for a day...

Next Chapter: Foreboding Threats...