The birth of a city is a bloody, ghastly affair. Towering constructs of stone burst forth from the ground, rending the earth apart as it inches closer eon by eon to taking its first breaths. It is up to those who likewise are ripped from the churned soil to then, brick by brick, aid in the bringing of life. Even as the rain falls to cleanse the cathedral steps of the blood spilt in its name there is yet more pouring from the rips, tears, and cuts unbidden. The sire of the fair city yet hides its face, perhaps it is from its fetid bloated corpse that our fair city feasts upon.
Such is the nature of the great cycle. Just as the mother moon our fair city it dies and is born again and again. The waxing and waning of civilizations built upon each other’s bones. The marrow of our ancestors still connects us to the deepest levels of our world, for as long as women draw breath and hearts beat there will forever be a city. A city that was first germinated in a valley along the fertile soil of the riverbank, sprouting and overtaking all until there were simply no more room for them to grow in the valley. Pushing the world to its limits. And when the last blade of grass was captured within the embryo of stone and steel it was then that the real growth could begin.
Women like Sol, had to be able to feel the flow of the city. Feel its pulse as moonlight fell like ribbons into the street. She turned her collar high as the rain pelted her coat. Mother moon was full tonight, and that meant that once again the Cathedral closed its doors to all. The only ones who dare left those hallowed halls were women like herself. Taking a deep breath she steadied herself. This wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last time that she had left the warm embrace of its fires. Flicking her gaze up towards the ever towering pathways and buildings she saw the faint flicker of lights from other hunters all making their way on their patrols.
“At least we aren’t alone.” She said softly, fussing with her scabbard. “Our sisters yet walk the night.”
She had her lantern at her hip, soul flame flickering gently as she walked. Sol didn’t really need the light. The moon more than provided at least to her hunter’s eyes. Streams of moonlight causing the cobblestone streets to glitter everywhere they fell, stained glass shining from all the fires warming whatever citizens that had gone to shelter. Very few were still out, most were huntresses like herself, or the women who found themselves huddled in the darkness together were all hiding from Sol and her sisters.
The heels of her boots clicked against the cobbles as she walked, her free hand resting on her blade. Distantly she could hear the scratching of claws against stone. Something was skittering just at the edge of her hearing. She turned her head to face an alleyway, narrowing her eyes as she pierced the veil of darkness that swallowed it. There, that’s where the sound was coming from. Too large to simply be a rat no, no this was her quarry. Her sword sung as she pulled it from its scabbard, feeling its heft as it glinted under the light of Mother Moon.
Sol stepped lightly, praying that she could at least get the drop on it. It wouldn’t take long for it to catch onto her presence. The skittering became scratching and she lunged. Sol lashed her blade out and while she didn’t see what it had hit the roar of pain and rage that followed was more than enough for her to know that she found her target. Now that she’d gotten its attention and angry wasn’t even the beginning of what it was Sol knew she needed to get out of the cramped alley. In the back of her mind she could hear the Sisters, and even the Matron Mother, scolding her for turning her back on a beast but what choice did she have? There was simply no room to fight here.
Running back out into the street she looked around, nodding with satisfaction when she didn’t see anyone else out but her. Surely they’d heard the noise, no doubt they wanted to put as many streets between themselves and the beast. It growled and snarled at her rushing out of the alley with foaming wrath dripping from its maw. She barely managed to side step it when it came flying out of the darkness, her blade barely cutting its hide at all.
It would be easier for both of us if you just died, she thought bitterly.
The beast rose up to its full height, part of Sol ached for it. The creature before her was once a woman, full of life and love. She likely had sisters, and daughters. She was someone’s sister, someone’s daughter. And now all that was left was a wolfish horror. Caught somewhere between woman and animal. Fangs sharp enough to rend flesh and jaws that render armor worthless, and as such Sol never wore anything more heavy than leather. If she were to die to their bite she may as well focus on maneuverability. Thick course fur had grown all over the woman’s body, winter was coming of course, but the thought was fleeting for Sol as she desperately dodged the creature’s claws. With a little pirouette she narrowly managed to avoid much more than scratching her leathers before returning the favor with her sword. The whirling blade carving into the flesh of its arm as it howled in pain.
“May you find peace in the light of the moon.” Sol recited dutifully to the Beast, advancing on it while she still had a chance, “May your pain end and you find your place among the sea of stars.”
The Beast backed away from her, its hand barely hanging on but it wasn’t about to give up that easily. Frantically it searched for its own opening to bring her down. Limping as it circled her in the street the Beast snarled with ferocity and hate. Sol lept back desperately, barely dodging its claws. When she tried to parry it simply knocked her away. The force of its blow causing her blade to fly out of her hand and land with a heart shattering clatter. Sol looked up with dread as time seemed to slow, her heart beating like a drum she prayed. She prayed for deliverance, for salvation, holding her hand up as if it had a hope in hell to stop lycan’s assault.
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Krak-dbew!
A rifle’s bark shattered the spell her heart had over time right about when Sol saw the top half of the Beast’s head vanish into a red mist. She knelt on the ground trembling not quite believing that she wasn’t dead yet. Her body had yet to remember that it could breathe, that it was more than just a corpse.
“I expected better of you Sol.” An old crow spoke, Sol looked up at her. Another huntress in leathers similar to her own. Piercing black eyes and skin pale as the moon. “Is this truly what has become of my student?” She asked as she picked up Sol’s sword and carried it over.
“No,” Sol said softly, quickly correcting herself when she remembered her station. “No, Huntress Niamh.”
“None of that.” Niamh said as she handed over Sol’s blade. Her voice was smokey, near the color of amber to Sol’s ears. “So long as you draw breath the night will continue, but I will not see one of my daughters perish to some lowly beast.”
Sol looked up at her as she took her blade from her teacher. Mother was a tricky word among the Church, it was rarely literal. So much so that when one tracked lineages they would rarely see “mother” as the connecting line between themselves and the woman that had birthed them. Instead it was usually Dame. Niamh wasn’t Sol’s dame, but she was her mother.
“Now tell me. What did you do wrong.” Though it was phrased like a question, it rarely was with Niamh.
“I wasn’t fast enough.” Sol said bitterly as she got to her feet.
“And?” When Sol didn’t answer Niamh looked pointedly at her, her gaze carving into Sol’s soul with the same precision as her rifle. “And?”
Sol hesitated before answering, “I underestimated it.”
“Don’t do it again.” Her mother nodded and turned away. “The night is long, and our vigil longer.”
“So long as the Beasts rule, the night will continue unending.” Sol said with the kind of weary exhaustion that came from well-trod lessons. “I know, Huntress.”
Dusting herself off Sol looked around, only to realize that Niamh was gone. She sighed deeply, on her own once again. Only Mother Moon would know where she remained. Cleaning her blade she sheathed it once more and continued down the street. The body of the beast wasn’t hers to claim, and as such Sol was going to leave it right where it was. Here she was looking forward to being able to turn in some ears that were entirely her own.
I’ll just have to get some of my own, she thought with rekindled determination.
The sounds of battle often scared away the smaller threats, women who were on the verge of transforming but had yet to or traitors who had been ousted and left to the Hunt. Other lycans however? The noise would be a dinner bell to them. Nothing was sweeter to the pack than a huntress, either they would feast on a wondrous meal or they would gain a new member. The only risk was their lives. It didn’t take long for Sol to find another. Though this one did give her some pause. She expected a woman in tattered rags, just enough to cover her shame before leaving her to one of many deaths but she didn’t see that. She expected perhaps maybe a smaller lycan, she did hear from her sisters that they breed. How else would they still be struggling against them to this day? No what she saw was someone familiar.
She was a laundry maid. Sol couldn’t remember her name for the life of her, but as she stood there darkened by shadow watching the maid she didn’t think she could forget her sobs. From all appearance she was a normal woman, her dress may be a little dirty and her hair a mess but that is to be expected when out during the Hunt. Sol could see that something was obviously wrong but anything further was obscured by the woman kneeling on the ground, leaned against a fountain for support. As if the saints depicted would offer any more support than the cold stone that she rest against.
Just as the thought flitted through her head to approach and ask what had happened she heard it, a sickening snap followed by the maid’s sobs turn to cries of agony. Once it had started it didn’t stop, one by one her bones shattered and reformed. Healing just as fast as they broke. Blood poured from her mouth and nose as she fell to hands and knees. Sol was frozen as she watched, her hand unconsciously going to her mouth to stop a scream. The poor maid let out a bestial scream, just barely Sol could make out the desperate pleas for it to stop. For it all to end. The sounds of bones breaking were getting faster now, the lycans curse working its way through her faster and faster the deeper its claws sunk into her. She couldn’t take it any longer, she may miss out on the credit of the kill but her heart couldn’t tolerate it a moment longer.
“May you find peace in the light of the moon.” She said as she approached the writhing mass of flesh that used to be a woman, holding her sword above her neck. “May your pain end and you find your place among the sea of stars.” Their eyes met for only a moment. Hate, pain, regret, and gratitude all flashed through the maid’s eyes as she screamed. But she did not fight. Sol brought the blade down and it bit cleanly through her.
All at once there was silence in the square. Sol looked up at the saints. One gazed towards the east where one night, her namesake would rise. She couldn’t bare to break the silence with another prayer, not even within her own heart. As such she looked back down to the woman’s body with a heavy sigh. Removing the lantern from her hip she knelt down, grabbing a little scrap of what remained of the maid’s skirt and touched it to the soul flame. She would lose credit for the kill, but she would rather that than allow her body to rot until the morrow. It was as close to a funeral she was going to get.
“I’m sorry,” She whispered as she stepped back, watching the flames slowly consume the remains of the girl. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”
And so she watched. She watched the young woman burn until there was nothing left to recognize. The flames of Sol’s soul coloring the square in unrecognizable ways, she watched until there was nothing left of her soul flame remaining.
“I will be faster, for our sisters.”