The nights began a cycle of rest, eat, and rest. To Sol it was all a blur. Occasionally she was awake long enough to share a few words with Rose, and rarer still Magnus. There was something there that made it difficult for her to catch the woman’s gaze. Sol wasn’t one to give up but she also could see when a fight wasn’t worth picking. Occasionally. Had she not picked the fight with that pack then she wouldn’t have met Magnus and her daughter.

With each passing night she felt herself grow stronger and frustrated with equal measure. Each bit of strength gained meant she could do just a little more, being able to sit up by herself felt like such a monumental accomplishment only to be immediately undercut by her trying to stand by herself and crumpling to the floor like a discarded tunic. Magnus helped her back into bed but she’d made it clear that under no circumstances was she to do that again without her help.

As Magnus changed her bandages again and checked the healing wounds and stitches she wondered if the church thought that she was dead. Surely they must, it’d been nearly a fortnight since she left on patrol and she never returned. Sol brought up the idea of contacting the church once, just to let her Sisters know that she was alive and recovering with the aid of a kindly woman, no sooner had the words left her mouth a bowl shattered against the floor. Rose stood trembling, tears pricking her eyes and soon ran freely down her pale cheeks.

“No!” She pleaded, “You can’t!”

Sol blinked, not expecting this reaction from the young girl, but before she could say anything Magnus got up and went to her side, pulling her into a hug.

“It's alright,” She said softly, gently patting the girl’s back. “She don’t know no better, it was just an idea.”

Sol watched the exchange, watching the older woman comfort the younger girl. That she had made a mistake was clear, there was no other real answer for such an outburst. Especially when such an outburst was met with kindness and compassion instead of derision. So Sol kept quiet, be it out of shame or respect for the duo’s moment she didn’t know. Filing the emotion away to pick apart later, assuming it wasn’t relocated to ferment as a fine wine. Magnus led Rose to the door, speaking softly to her before closing it with a gentle click.

“Has a Huntress wronged her?” Sol asked once Magnus had turned to face her, speaking softly just in case Rose was listening. She could almost see it now, her ear pressed to the door straining for each syllable. Or even her eye glancing through the keyhole, it felt strange to be on the other side of this for once.

“Has a huntress wronged her.” Magnus snorted derisively, looking sharply up at Sol. “Darling I couldn’t even begin to explain the wrongs that have happened at the hands of your Huntresses.” He spat the word like poison.

Sol looked at her, trying her damnest to hide the exasperation in her voice, “I have nothing but time.”

She huffed, dropping back into her chair and crossing her arms. Letting Sol sit in silence Magnus stared at her with a venomous gaze. She, however, could play this game. Silence wasn’t a punishment, or at least wasn’t the punishment that Magnus thought that it was. Maybe in years past Sol would be made uncomfortable, but the Sisters and even Mothers would not tolerate a word spoken out of turn. Silence seemed to creep at the edges of the woman, her hateful glare intensifying, daring her to speak. Each heartbeat that passed seemed to only anger her more.

“You think you have any right to ask that question when we found you surrounded by three bodies?” Magnus finally hissed.

“Yes.” It was a simple reply, it cut like a freshly sharpened blade. Sol watched Magnus bristle, her fist clenching so tightly that the already pale skin was going white.

Rage burned behind Magnus’ eyes, a lesser woman would be fearful but Sol simply stared on. She had faced proper lycans, and she was certain that Magnus was afflicted, there was no other explanation for her physique, and thus even in her current state the outcome was obvious to her. Either Magnus would last out and prove Sol right, or Magnus would restrain the beast.

“Your lot killed everyone that ever mattered to Rose.” Her voice was cold as the winter moon. “It might not have been you, probably wasn’t,” He laughed, but it was hollow, and the grin was more akin to a snarl than a smile. Bearing her teeth at her. “I found her in that apartment, shivering and frightful. The fact that she even speaks around you is an honor you don’t deserve.”

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“If her family was afflicted, then the Huntresses that attended to it ended their suffering.” Sol said evenly, as if it should have been self-evident to Magnus that this would be why someone would do this. “And as a show of gratitude towards you and your actions towards me, I would be willing to keep this-“ She gestured vaguely around the room, wincing slightly as she did. “Quiet. It will not save you, but I will not hunt you.”

Magnus choked with rage, leaping to her feet with such force that the chair she was sitting in slammed against the wall. “And you think that this is mercy?” She lunged for her, pulling Sol close by her collar.

“Yes.”

She felt Magnus’ grip tighten, pulling her closer to the woman whose face was flushed with fury. Sol did not fight her, she knew that she was right.

“Why?” A question that carried the weight of dawn. That ran red with the blood of lycans and woman alike. It was the cold steel of her sword and the burning embers of the hearth. “Why must they die?”

“Because they are no longer women, they are beasts.” Sol recited. Her own voice merely an echo of Sisters and huntresses before her. “And when they are beasts, they are violent. They put all at risk, afflicting others with their contagion.” She could see Magnus’ eye twitch but she continued on unabated. “To protect our sisters and to end the lives of those that have fallen.”

Something seemed to break in Magnus and suddenly Sol’s vision swam. Parts of it going dark as she tried to shake off the dizzying effect and put her hand against her temple where pain radiated from. She stared up at her, both women’s expression set. Both convinced of their righteousness. The silence that filled the room was a choking thing, Sol’s face burned as the fire in her heart ignited and smoke should be filling the room as she saw the blaze equally in Magnus’ eyes.

“If I could have left you there to bleed out on the street I would have.” Magnus voice rumbled through Sol’s bones. “Each time we speak you yet give me more and more reasons why not only should I have, but reason to tie you up and ring the dinner bell for the ferals. But Mother take me I will not abandon my mission, nor will I abandon my charge. As ungrateful as she may be.”

“I am not-“

“On the morrow we will be leaving the Eden district. You’re going to need more care than I am able to provide and you’re not in critical condition anymore.”

“Then take me-“ Sol tried to interrupt again, only to be interrupted again.

“The church will only put you down like a dog, better them think that you’re already dead.” She turned to leave, ignoring Sol’s protest.

The door slammed shut and left Sol in contemptible silence, Magnus’ footsteps leading away slowly and heavily. As if the anger that filled her would leave by stomping it into the floorboards. She grit her teeth, and tried to force herself up but though her body moved it didn’t have the strength to pull itself up. She glared at the door, Magnus should have left her to die out there. If this was what she was going to do then the best outcome for her was to have died in service of the Holy Mother.

A thought occurred to Sol as she raged against her weakened body. Magnus was taking her. The fact that Magnus was an intelligent afflicted, or somehow was able to keep the affliction in a sort of dormant state, that was useful. Something like that could bring a measure of hope to the district. Obviously the method isn’t perfect but the Matrons would know how to make it so. Sol rested back against her pillows. She thought about the woman by the fountain that she killed. That woman was in the Mother’s embrace now but if she could find the method that Magnus’ peers were using to keep not just them safe from her, but Magnus from herself, then maybe she could prevent more sorrow like that.

It was stupid to plan and start putting eggs into a basket before she’d even checked if the chickens were even still alive. Sol stared out the window, lightly tapping her fingers against the bedding. Margaux would be worrying about her. Soon she would be mourning her. The thought made her heart ache, but Sol tried to bury the feelings. Margaux was a fellow huntress, a Sister just like her. She couldn’t think of her like that. But as she stared up into the night sky, staring up into the sea of stars, Sol couldn’t help but wonder if there was ever a way to cleanse her heart of this sin. She couldn’t give it words, let alone voice, lest that make it real. Inexorable. Even as Sol thought of trying to rid herself of this state in her heart made it bleed.

Slowly she rested her hand on her chest, staring out the window, as if it would ease the pain. She willed the pain away. She would find her way back to Margaux, and they would embrace once more. They would lie in the bed too small for both of them and rest in their dreams. She would see Margaux’s dreams and see the world that she entrusted her heart to. Maybe, just maybe, Margaux would learn to love the quiet oblivion of Sol’s own dream. With the only break from unending darkness being an entity of light flitting away from them.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Not even the Mother would forgive her if she let these thoughts continue, to let her heart run wild. She had to restrain it, if not for herself then for Margaux. Sol was tainted, this much she could come to grips with. The unnatural feelings likely an effect of the hunt. This is why the Daughters of Eve never exposed themselves to her kind, Sol gripped her tunic. This, this was the very reason that women like her even existed. Without women like her, like Margaux, or even Sister Bethony the Daughters wouldn’t be able to keep their souls safe. Women born of the union of dawn and dusk, pure and untouched from the affliction of night. It was too late for Sol the moment she took her first breath, and the reminder in Margaux was too much. She closed her eyes, refusing to feel the emotions roiling in her breast as they rolled down her cheeks.

She yearned for the peaceful oblivion to sweep her away once more.