> "Lil' lamp bruised and burnt."
> "Flew too high, a lesson learnt."
> "Sigil, unconvert."
I awoke with a scream, the thing's face of a cracked reality looming over me like a predator observing its prey.
"Hey! Hey, calm down! It's okay, you're safe." I whipped my head around to look in direction of the voice. A mistake, as my nerves became molten lava of pain and suffering. It was Marcel. Just... Marcel. The thing wasn't here. He must have seen the panic in my eyes because he started cooing me to calm me down. "It's okay, we've won. You don't have to fight anymore, just take it easy."
I stared at him for a moment, my heart racing but... it seemed like he was telling the truth. Everything was... fine. Considering the circumstances. I slowly looked around me - Thomas and Liz were still out but their wounds were dressed and obviously clean. Next to them each a small pile of sharp fractured bones, likely pulled from their backs. My eyes looked down, and a similar pile of white material lay besides me.
"We won?" I asked. My voice sounded hoarse and weak. "Yeah, we won. Take it easy, don't move too much. Y'all were hurt pretty badly after the battle. Water?" He offered me his flask. I tried reaching out for it but the pain in my shoulder stopped me - and made me wince on top of that. "I got it, don't worry."
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It's been a day since I awoke after the battle and I've spent most of the time laying on the ground. It seems that I got lucky compared to Thomas and Liz - their wounds were much more severe than mine. At least, Marcel and Jay claimed so. I just believed them, because it didn't matter to me who had it worse.
I almost died. There'd be nobody who'd know what happened to me - maybe outside of the damned visitor. I kept seeing its reality shattering visage appear before me every time I closed my eyes. It was unsettling, knowing that the thing was paying so much attention to me. And the worst part is that I didn't have a single clue as to why. Hopefully it was just bored and would remain content just watching from... wherever it was.
My longsword and daggers were laid out next to me - obviously cleaned from the torment's filthy sizzling blood. And yet, I was reluctant to touch them. Now that I knew what actually fighting those things was like... I was afraid. Truly afraid. I had always idolized fighting the Torments - its what mom did after all. How could she stomach it? Fighting them... every month, week or day.
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I didn't understand how she was so strong to be willing to put herself through something like that, and yet find it in her to be kind to me.
Me. A thing rescued from a supernatural storm. Mom's words echoed inside my mind as I processed the implication.
'We’re primarily rescued Torments.'
We. Torments. Her and I. Torments. Just like that thing that haunts me. Just like those monsters I battled before fainting.
I wanted to hate them so much, everything would be so easy if I could just think of those things as hateful creatures... but if I did that, I'd have to hate Mom too. And myself.
I couldn't reconcile those thoughts.
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Marcel and Jay managed to put together an improvised stretcher - enough to carry a person without jostling them around too much. They used it to ferry each of us wounded away. Jay's leg was still messed up, but he was able to walk if he was careful. The three of us who got caught in the father-torment's blast? Not so much.
They loaded one person up and moved them about a kilometer away before coming back for the next one. Rinse, repeat. And while I didn't feel any worse, I didn't feel any better either. Every bump while the guys walked was painful, but it was better than standing still. If there's one thing I realized after the battle, it's stand standing still is death. I think I always knew that, but thinking back to how the meat-flail was coming down onto me like the wrath of the hells themselves... it truly put things into a perspective.
By the late noon Jay mentioned that the town they're from is in sight and that we should be there before sundown. I should have been happy at that - safety, and someone actually skilled in medicine. I kept my word and left no man behind. We won.
And yet, all I felt was as though something inside me was broken. How could I dream of becoming a hunter if I start shaking in fear at the very thought of facing another torment?
How can I live up to Mom's ideals? Her hopes for me? That's what she wanted I believe, that's why she told the guards that my name is Malinka of the Hunt. From the start she was utterly convinced that I have the strength to be as amazing at her.
I don't think I do. I'm weak.
I hear the guys pick up a stretcher and start moving Thomas away.
I wait until their footsteps are out of hearing range and then finally let myself weep. I slowly pick up one of mom's daggers - the only keepsake of hers I have - and hold it close to me. How pathetic I must be - can't even stomach a single battle. What a joke - a hunter. I don't have the ability, the will or the fortitude to be one.
I should just turn around and go back home, live the rest of my life in Ravensbrook, get married and be a wife to someone. It would be so much easier and make so much more sense than this foolish goal already doomed to failure.
I glance down at the dagger in my hand through my vision is blurry due to tears.
'Maybe I could just en-' I shut the thought down. That's a line I won't let myself cross. To give up would mean that mom's sacrifice to protect me would be for naught.
It takes the guys almost an hour before they're back and I have to pretend like I'm more or less fine again.