Before the sun even began to rise, the forest already stirred. Rows upon rows of torches, swords, glaives and the like, all fiercely shined in the eyes of the gathered knights, all marching on toward the valley's grand entrance. There they stood, in front of the giant tunnel, filled to the brim with all its bramble...like it stood a chance against the ire of man.

At the very head of the charge, a woman draped in long feathered robes came and approached the vines. She raised her torch high above her head, illuminating the strange veil that covered her face. The woman turned toward her brotherhood and raised her voice.

“Knights of the Natural Order,” Talia called. “We are gathered here by decree of our great King Kopernicus to extract a heavy toll. Let it be known that we mourn for this valley.”

“We mourn,” the knights all declared in unison.

“We mourn for the souls who are trapped within, whose struggle continues with each passing day, whose suffering is perpetuated by falsehoods and perverse ideals.”

“We mourn.”

“We mourn those led astray by the Daemons, those born of the afflicted, who whisper their false promise of paradise.”

“We mourn.”

“We mourn the mothers who have lost their daughters, the fathers who have lost their sons—familial bonds, once thought invincible, now shattered.”

“We mourn.”

“Raise your heads.”

A wave of shuffling sounds filled the air as the army looked upward.

“What is your creed,” Talia asked.

“To free the unholy from their tainted flesh. To bring purity to this world and to mankind, back to their divine design. To restore, the natural order, and define the line between man and beast once more. To purge wickedness and filth from the world. Every beast will be subservient to man. Every man will be above beast. This is our purpose, our holy creed; that every man be a man, and every beast be a beast.”

“We will cleanse this valley and free its people,” Talia said. “Let this become a place of rest for the many who suffer.”

The knights behind Talia begin to douse the vines in gasoline. The woman approaches with her torch and leans over.

FWOOSH.

Even amidst the light rain, the clouds beginning to roll in, the bramble is engulfed by the raging fire. No little drizzle was going to be putting it out any time soon. The monstrous plants shriveled and shivered under the heat, releasing a disoriented dance of sparks into the darkening night sky. The poisonous smoke that slithered up from the burning bramble was thick and pungent, carrying with it a scent of unnatural life scorched into ashes. Several knights removed their face plates and donned gas masks.

“Knights,” Talia's voice echoed through the valley, overpowering even the crackling roar of flames. “Forward!”

They advanced towards the tunnel entrance, every step echoing with unity. Each knight bore a steadfast look. There was no fear lingering in their gazes, only fervent resolve to bring about their twisted ideals of justice. The resounding clanging of their armors drowned any remaining echoes of the forest. The night’s subtle symphony succumbed to humanity's cacophonous march of war.

All was not totally quiet within the forest's bounds—on the other side of the bramble blockade, tens if not hundreds of Rangers stood at the ready, weapons drawn, nostrils flaring—if it was a war these Humans wanted, it was a war they would receive, a war they would not soon forget.

The consuming fires continued to devour the settlement's outer shell. The knights continued to march forward.

Just as soon as they had breached the other side, all hell broke loose.

It began with the Scouts, no more than six, assaulting the knights from behind—the Rangers figured they could create a choke point, trap the knights in the tunnel, then move in on both sides like a vice.

Blood was spilt. Men cried out to their gods. A ballet of blades was danced to the death for the many in armor, their forces quickly lost to magic and trickery. The roots of the earth erupted from the ground, eating some alive; others, less fortunate, were engulfed in fire-breathed infernos.

The Humans were overwhelmed—all for but a moment—for only when she was certain did the veiled woman take hold of her weathered charm.

Talia held a rough amethyst gem, one that glowed with dull magenta light. The jewel itself was held inside a golden locket, custom fit for its containment, with wavy engravings circling the center. As Talia clutched the locket close to her chest, gripping onto it tight, the power inside began to dramatically swell—the woman was surrounded by a bright violet, the light pulsating around herself. Her free hand, twitching with cosmic energy, grasped for her weapon—something like a sickle on a chain, mounted at her hip—and the weapon was imbued with the same energy.

The chains unraveled, floating, hanging in the air around the woman, suspended by the magic. Looking to her right, Talia saw her men being run through with swords, their skulls being clobbered by warhammers, their feet being caught in traps…each fatal strike felt like a punch to the gut for the woman, especially with what came next.

Sure her men were down, but their assailants were now nice and lined up. It didn’t matter if the others were still in the way—they were not going to survive their wounds to begin with. It was best to put them out of their misery—avenging them in the same fell swoop.

Talia began to swing her chain all around herself, picking up speed with each overhead rotation. The sickle at the end seemed to get heavier and heavier as it gained momentum. With one last swing forward, Talia released the chain, creating a wide arc of destruction in front of her. The magenta energy burned brightly, scorching both grass and flesh.

For many of the Rangers gathered on the front lines, it was the last thing they would ever see.

A thick poison clouded the sky. The wildlife despaired. The earth was in pain.

Hardly a soul was left among the scorched remains—nothing beyond the now-molten piles of men.

Talia had fallen, helped back to her feet by two fleeing soldiers. The hand, no, the entire arm she used to power the jewel was scorched and blackened. Pieces of her crow-feather garb flaked away, tiny embers burning, the bitter smell of toasted hairs and sizzling skin overwhelming the senses.

The destruction would buy them some time.

“Quickly,” she gasped. “Into the woods!”

The knights did as they were told, helping Talia along with the hoard of retreating men. Most of them dipped out of view, further into the woods the monsters called their home. As they did so, Talia was set on horseback, and as fast as their legs could carry them, the militia of monster-hunters searched for cover.

Reaching a shallow cave, Talia and the knights took a moment to recuperate. They imagined they would not be able to stay in one place for long. Talia’s bag of trinkets spilled out onto the ground as she took a hastened seat.

“My lady,” a medic came and knelt at Talia's side, tending to her wounds. “Gods above, are you alright?”

“Aye,” Talia said. “I simply exerted too much at once.”

The medic examined Talia's burns and began to apply a medicinal spread. The coolness of the salve gave some relief to the pain, but the damage was already done. Blackened skin, scorched to the very bone in some parts. No blood oozed from these holes—their only methods of escape had already been long-since cauterized. It was a miracle Talia had not died of shock.

“What manner of sorcery did this?” The medic asked.

“Cosmic, pure and radiant. It burns like the sun, but cleanses like water. Every use is an exchange. To know, one must forget; To destroy, one must sacrifice.”

The medic pondered. “With utmost respect, that seems incredibly dangerous, my lady.”

“It is,” Talia said, clutching the locket still in her corroded hand. “Which is precisely why I cannot allow it to fall into the enemy's grasp.”

The medic eyed the hand, then went back to bandaging her up and applying the necessary salve. Another knight ran up to the group, eyes dancing between Talia and the medic—she turned to Talia and bowed her head.

“My lady, Kessler requests your presence at once.”

“Martin?” Talia asked. “He is here?”

“It would appear so, my lady.”

“Very well, bring him to me.”

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The knight dashed away. The medic frowned. “My lady, are you sure you are in the condition to—”

“I am sure, do not fret. We mustn't let this inconvenience slow us down—there is a human life on the line.”

Martin approached quickly, straightening his belt and rubbing a finger under his nose. He had to coughed pretty hard before he could get a word out.

“Hey, uh,” Martin tipped his hat. “...The boy got away.”

“I am well aware by now. How did you find us?”

“Just followed the smoke,” Martin said. “Most of 'em mutants cleared out after you was finished. Wasn't hard to sneak past. I joined in not too long after y'all started runnin’.”

“I see.” Talia winced and shifted in her seat. “...So he really is gone, then.”

“Not quite. You still got that fancy gem?”

Talia weakly raised her injured arm and forced her curled fingers open. There the jewel sat, in all its brilliance, soft glow illuminating the palm which held it.

“What do we need to do?” Martin asked.

“Using the orb for its sight, we may be able to get a vague approximation of your son's location,” Talia explained. “In exchange for a memory, the gem can amplify the user's latent psychic abilities.”

Martin didn't understand a word of it. His lips puckered.

“Just a memory, then? And I can see my son?”

“Is that a sacrifice you're willing to make?” Talia asked.

Martin hesitated, considering the damage done. There was no gain derived from dwelling on the past. What did he have to lose beyond a few precious moments?

The old man was slow and delicate as he took the gem into his own hand. Immediately after it touched his skin, the voices came flooding in like crashing waves in his head. Wincing, gritting his teeth, Martin reached out to Talia with his other hand.

“The orb, give it 'ere.”

Talia reached into her oversized cloak and produced the orb, handing it to Martin. The man's face continued to contort from the psychic pressure. Honing in on one voice, Martin managed to focus at last. The discourse in his head all coalesced into a choir.

"Martin Kessler—what is it you desire?"

…

There was a certain stillness to Black Peak that morning.

Most of its population had dispersed early on, lining up to face the hoard at the western gate. The few who remained did so more-so out of obligation than willful abandonment. Someone had to stay behind, tend to the place and keep intruders out.

The day was already drawing toward noon. The fires of the battle still roared high into the air.

Andy watched on, out the window, silent as a mouse. He considered what he could be doing at that very moment. He wondered if his father was among those who were fighting. He feared for what might happen should their defenses fail.

Most of all, however, Andy just wanted to get away from Butcher and his child. The boy felt nothing but a boiling rage and gnawing shame whenever he looked at the two—any time they were chattering, talking, playing, it made him feel sick.

He wanted so desperately to hurt Davis, but where would that get him in the end?

...Before he could finish his thought, Andy felt a tiny heel being driven into his ankle. He yelped.

Spinning around, he saw his assailant—the little girl, having grown impatient with him standing around, decided now was the perfect opportunity to strike—Davis was quick to pick her up.

“I'm sorry,” the pale man said to Andy as he carried the little girl back to his chair.

“...So are you gonna tell her I ain't the one who hurt her?”

“I'd say it doesn't matter at this point,” Davis replied. “You tried to.”

Andy scoffed. “Just spared your life, but okay.”

“Yeah, I was curious about that,” Davis cocked a brow. “You could have just shot me. Just as easily have helped them track me down after I got away. You could've gotten your justice. Why didn't you?”

“Because that wouldn't have been justice,” Andy sighed and looked away. “...That would've been murder. I still fully intend on kickin' yer ass up and down the sidewalk the second I’ve got the freedom to do so.”

Davis's mouth upturned. He let out a small laugh. “Do you?”

“Yeah. But, honestly, right now that ain't what I'm concerned about.”

“...What’s on your mind?”

“My dad, my friends, I dunno. I mean, knowin' dad, at this point he's just gonna try to charge right in here an' get ‘imself killed. An', my friends? Cici, or, or Vick? He'll wanna stick his nose in this, I'm sure. And he’s gonna die mad at me.”

“We have this valley surrounded,” Davis said. “Your friends aren’t going to die.”

“I dunno. You're s'posed to be this big important guy, an' you went down like,” Andy snapped his fingers. “...That,”

Davis pursed his lips. “I got jumped, three on one.”

“Just sayin'. Considerin' where I am right now, I don't got high hopes for local law enforcement.”

Davis nodded along, the smirk on his face peeling away to reveal a sober expression.

“...What's got your friends pissed?”

“That I sold out to their mortal enemies.”

“Ah. That'll do it.”

Andy sighed. “I just really hope they got home safe.”

“I'm sure they're fine. Scouts might've given them a little hell on the way in, but…”

The room quickly fell quiet. Not much to say between these two. Not many words to exchange that hadn't already been said...nothing beyond the sentimental, anyways. But there could be some value found in sentimentality, from time to time. Perhaps the reflection stirred by their isolation made the boy a bit more open minded in this regard—perhaps that's why he listened.

“...You remind me of him,” Davis said. “My son. “

“Yeah, well, I would rather I didn't.” Andy replied.

Davis lightly scowled. “It wasn't an insult.”

Hm. The boy felt a bit guilty now, insinuating that. What harm would it do to humor the man, he thought. What’s there to lose at this point?

“What was he like?” Andy asked. Davis cocked his head upward in thought.

“He was quiet...a bit rowdy with his friends but never much of a troublemaker. Just kept to himself mostly, writing about the birds. But—he had a good heart, cared a lot for the environment...Just a good, hard working kid...broke his heart when me and his mom split. He ran off and...got engaged to a Human woman. You can imagine how well that turned out—her father was a high ranking member of the Natural Order. As soon as he found out…”

Around then, Tanya entered the room and gave a signal to Davis. The pale man nodded and stood up, placing his granddaughter on the floor.

“...Well,” Davis said. “Guess that's a story for another time.”

“What's going on now?” Andy asked.

“Release—we're letting you go back home. No reason to keep you cooped up.”

“Am I...even allowed?”

“I'll pull a few strings.”

The pale man winked, then folded his hands together. His head bowed slightly. The next part took a lot out of him to say.

“Earlier, you called me a murderer.”

“Figured you could do the math.”

“Your mother?”

Andy grit his teeth and looked away.

“Just 'got in the way,' huh?” The boy bitterly repeated.

Those small expressions again. Davis seemed troubled, conflicted. More than anything, though, he just seemed confused.

“Frankly, I...I don't remember.” he grunted with a shake of his head.

Andy looked back over, pupils shrinking. “Seems like a pretty major thing to forget.”

Davis cussed underneath his breath and rubbed at his temples.

“I wasn't…in control, Kessler. I should have been, but—our minds, they don't—they don't always synchronize. The other guy, he...doesn't always listen. All that mattered in that moment was to take you away from him—your old man. That was my goal, my instinct. Anything else that came of it…” The man’s hands fell to his sides. Andy chewed on his words for a moment. His own greatest fears about his condition were basically being confirmed right about then.

He’d have no control—none of them had that control. Any pleasant thoughts that he’d have a firm grasp on the situation were deemed irrelevant, now. Even then, he couldn’t help but be bitter. He couldn’t help but hate what Davis had done.

“So that’s it, then?” Andy asked, shakily. “You just couldn’t help yourself?”

Davis sighed. “I…never meant to hurt your mother. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well…sorry don’t bring her back, do it?” Andy turned away, sniffling, holding himself tight. What was he doing now? Was he going to cry? Was he going to scream? Was he going to let it all break him?

Sorry won’t bring her back…

“...Though I s'pose, neither will sulkin’ ‘round,” he said, getting back to his feet. “If I'm gonna be...stayin' here, I need to make some things right. If we're goin' home, would you mind if we took a little detour along the way?”

“What for?” Davis asked.

“Well first thing we need is to prove I didn't kill ya. Figure we can just pay my buddies a quick visit. Then—we're gonna negotiate the terms of your lock-up.”

The pale man tensed. “...Lock-up?”

“You said you were sorry, now you ought to act on it. Once the Order's been fought off, an' all this's settled, I want your word that you ain't gonna run off an' hide again.”

Davis's nostrils flared a bit. “You're making a pretty tough bargain. What's in it for me?”

“You want justice, don't you?” The boy's brows tightened. “This is justice.”

“...Elena, I can't—”

“I'm gonna guess that cat's already way outta the bag on that one. Ain't you got any trust in the folks you fight with?”

Davis didn't respond, he merely kept up his glare, his constant looks of indignation.

“If you're gonna be makin' excuses for 'em,” Andy said. “You might as well have a little faith.”

The pale giant crossed his arms and pressed his lips thin. A tough bargain, but one he couldn’t just say no to. The man would have to give it some thought.

“We'll see,” Davis huffed. “Let's just get you home first.”

“Right,” Andy grabbed the straps of his bag, lifting it off the floor and onto his shoulders. Nodding to Tanya, then to Davis, he stepped to the door—before the group could exit, however, Elena stepped in their way.

“Where are you going,” she asked. Davis knelt at her side and placed a hand in her hair.

“Just running a few little errands, sweetheart. I won't be gone long.”

The little girl pouted, looking fearfully at Andy one last time before she tightly wrapped her arms around Davis's waist. Her head was buried in his stomach.

“Promise you'll come back, Grandpa?” Her voice muffled against his shirt.

“I promise," Davis gave her a gentle pat on the back, then looked at Andy. Elena stayed in his arms for a few more seconds before finally releasing him. With a slight nod of approval, she stepped back to let them pass.

The trio made their way through the wooded halls of the barracks. Andy tried to keep his eyes forward, tried not to look upon the faces that watched him go. He caught glimpses of suspicion and distrust from the corner of his eyes—it was understandable, he reckoned. No one liked a traitor…though a point could be made he hadn’t been on their side to begin with.

Guided by Tanya, they ventured out onto the path, into the valley that stretched as far as he could see. The cool autumn air prickled against his skin and he shivered, pulling his hood up around his head.

Was it the cold that made him want to hide his face?