Blake tried to imagine warm things: a campfire; hot food; the Wastes’ sun; a thousand-yard sprint; the incredible heat that had penetrated the Foot nearly a decade ago, leaving him and his gang lying on the floor of their hideout covered in sweat, slowly baking within the sandstone walls. Yet the confines of the stockade, shadowed by the light of a thin sliver of moons, drew his imagination towards the dark chill falling upon the area, freezing his mind in place and making warmth a distant thing.
His focus continually drifted towards the teeth-chattering cold caressing his bare skin. With his hands tied behind a speartree, there was no recourse other than to beat his feet against the frost-covered ground and shiver. He’d never seen snow, but it seemed a miracle that none fell from the clouded sky above.
Barely ten steps away, his shirt, thick coat, socks, and boots sat folded neatly atop a wool blanket, alongside a cup of soup gone cold several hours ago. As he stared at the clothes he struggled against his bonds again, exacerbating the burns worn into his skin by his repeated attempts. He felt his skin break, but even pain was a relief from the cold.
Orvi’d always shared stories shared from the chattier veterans: of great warriors escaping captivity by dismantling their digits and putting them back together. Blake had tried doing the same, only to fear that his efforts would peel his thumbs from his hands like bark from a tree. He’d decided that all fingers would be needed to find Erin and Bhan and escape from the encampment.
That was back when he could feel them. Fantasies of escape were already hollow when he started, and they’d fallen to daydreams of warmth. In turn, those had fallen as the night settled; notions of warmth becoming increasingly difficult to grasp. The contents of his mind had been filtered down to its last dregs, leaving only the cold. It threatened to cast him in a tomb of ice, to leave for whatever poor bastards unearthed him, decades later.
A shiver wracked his body, fiercer than any that had come before, and his legs nearly buckled. He eyed the clothes and blanket with wide eyes and chattering teeth.
Footsteps sounded from outside. The young man blearily turned his head towards the gate into the fenced area, which opened and spat a tall, thickly built woman, who sprawled onto the frosty dirt. Her features were almost indistinguishable beneath the swelling of her face, but after a few moments of staring, Blake managed to parse who it was.
“Erin?” he asked. He wrenched his arms again, refusing to wince as the rope cut into his wrists. “Hey, Erin!”
She groaned, turned her head, and spat a glob of bloody saliva onto the ground. Pieces of tooth sat amidst the spittle. Erin rolled over, gathered her arms beneath herself, and slowly pushed herself onto her knees. Then, after a pause full of pants, stumbled upright.
Before Blake could say anything else, Peeler ducked through the gate and shoved her back to the dirt.
“Peeler,” Blake hissed, “you beady-eyed rat bastard.”
“Captain Peeler,” the Spiderblood corrected mildly.
After him came Fink, the Foxblood, and the ugly face of Pine – her jutting chin and pronounced forehead the hallmarks of a strong Dolphinblood. Each was familiar to him: they all belonged to House Esfaria’s foremost Ravenkin extermination squad. Led by a guardsman anointed with Spiderblood after ‘valiant service’ against the Lizard’s parasites, the team had quickly proved themselves capable of killing the world’s most dangerous monsters with minor casualties.
The twins had followed them on their hunts like lost sheep. Every time Blake tried to persuade them to put themselves towards something safer – something their mother would’ve actually wanted for them – they’d avoid him for the next few weeks. He’d ended up joining them on several butcher-runs to make sure they were kept out of danger.
He’d thought they had been.
“You’re really draggin’ two kids through a warzone?”
Peeler didn’t answer immediately, instead walking to the corner of the small stockade and leaning against its log palisade. “They know what’s at stake,” the Blooded finally deigned to answer.
“Fink?” the captive spat. “You think this’s alright?”
The Foxblood was in the middle of securing Erin to another speartree. “Shut up, Blake,” he retorted mutely, closing a pair of tired eyes. “They made their choice.”
“Looks like you did, too.”
Fink tilted his head, and ground out a single word through gritted teeth. “Blake.” His tone was full of barely-restrained violence.
“Oh, what’re you gonna do? Tie me up to freeze to death, maybe? Start workin’ me over? Torture me?” He scoffed. “I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings. D’you need me to kiss it better?”
The Foxblood turned to his leader. “Captain,” he growled. “I don’t want to do this.”
The Spiderblood regarded him levelly. “I think you’ll find you do.”
“Pine is more than- “
“Permission denied.” Peeler’s tone softened. “We’re doing this for a reason, Fink. Siik only knows what the Ravenblood will become, given time.”
Fink nodded.
The Dolphinblooded woman grinned. “About time, uh? We nearly have him. Imagine what we’ll be given, at the end of all this.”
“A fulfillment of our responsibilities,” said Peeler. “A correction to our shame.”
“Your shame.” Spurred by the lack of response, she eyed him disdainfully. “You’re no fun.”
While their leader watched quietly, the other two arrayed themselves in front of Blake. Pine squatted down on her haunches, looking him in the eye. He glared back.
“You’re a tough one, huh?” she said.
“There’s nothing to be tough about! I don’t know anything! You start on me, and whatever I say’ll be a lie to get me out of…”
As he babbled, Blake tried to run through everything he knew about Dolphinbloods. They were frighteningly charismatic -- something Blake had learned stemmed from more than just well-placed smiles and practiced mannerisms. They tampered with emotions. He’d felt the insidious fingers of one inside his skull in the burning manor with Orvi, four years ago. But beyond that, he knew almost nothing. Could they tamper with every sensation? Could they quell specific feelings, or any feeling? Could they shove the desire to spill his guts straight into his mind?
He'd always thought of the Owlblooded as witches, but staring into the fathomless waters of a Dolphinblood’s eyes, his shakes were no longer sourced from cold alone.
Pine was trying to gently shush him, but Blake had resolved himself to waste as much time as possible. Then something cracked across his numb face, and he bit his tongue in surprise.
Fink withdrew his arm, and Pine turned around to address the man. “Blood, why did you do that? Stop. Gods.” She turned her head back to Blake. “I’m sorry. I know this looks bad for you and your friend, but you do understand that we have to do this, right?”
Blake snorted, looking at the ground.
“If we fail this, we’re dead.” His head snapped towards the woman. “They’ll hang every last one of us. None of us have much of a choice but to try and get something out of you.”
He stared at her as she rose and walked over to the pile of clothes, unfurling the blanket from its bottom and wrapping it around Blake. The brush of wool against his skin was dulled by cold, yet remained an incredible relief.
“Now, we know you’ve been looking for the Ravenblood – what was his name again?”
Blake nearly answered. Instead, he licked his lips. “You know his name. You have to.”
“I’ve been told it, yes. But Dolphinbloods aren’t known for their memory, are they?”
The captor turned his head towards Erin, kneeling at the base of her speartree with her arms around its back.
Pine followed his gaze. “She put up quite the fight. Nearly ran Fink through; nearly broke the Captain’s jaw.”
Blake’s eyes found Peeler’s face, and the reddened patch of skin over his jaw.
“She’s Blooded, right? That’s recorded in the census information. She used a different name for it, though; we weren’t sure if she was who we were looking for until we set eyes on her.” Pine made some sort of expression, but with Blake’s gaze firmly on the ground he couldn’t parse it. “What type is she?”
Blake shrugged.
“None of us are sure, either. Honestly, she could be any god’s ilk, but testing showed her blood’s just a bit too strong not to show obvious signs. She’s not a Lizardblood – she’s tough, but her bruises would’ve already started to die down. She’s not an Oxblood – she’s big, but not that big. She’s not a Foxblood – there’s just not enough orange to her.”
Blake left his head hanging.
“She could be a Spiderblood, maybe, but at that density of Godsblood she’d be uglier than a bag of bruised onions. I doubt she’s a Dolphinblood…” Pine chuckled lightly. “For the same reasons, eh? And she’s too focused for an Owlblood – I mean, look at those eyes!”
Almost unwittingly, Blake’s gaze found Erin’s fierce brown eyes, glaring at Pine. Once they brushed his own, they flickered away.
“So what is she, Blake?”
He swallowed. “I don’t know.” Apprehension twinged in his soul, and he wondered if the doubt he felt was his own.
The strange, almost inhuman face of Pine leaned closer to his own. “You don’t, do you? She’s been lying to you all this time.”
Once again, Blake looked towards Erin. She didn’t look at him.
“Is she a Ravenblood, Blake?”
His head jerked upwards. “She can’t be, Pine. I’ve seen her kill before – there’re no signs of any… Raven… stuff happening.”
As he spoke, the Dolphinblood quietly shook her head. “Avri’s power is mysterious. Few have ever understood how it works, exactly. She’s Blooded, Blake – that’s a fact. What else could she be?”
“The world’s shortest Oxblood,” Blake answered. “Maybe she was a tiny Strain or something before getting’ it.”
“You don’t believe that, do you?”
He didn’t know what to believe; only that the hunter’s purpose was to kill Ravenbloods. “She’s not a Ravenblood, Pine – there has to be some way to check.”
She rubbed her nose. “We will try to find a way later. But one fact remains: she’s not the person you thought she was.”
He looked over at her, and felt as if he’d smelled something rotten.
“It’s the same with Orvi, isn’t it? Did you really know him?” She leaned backwards. “Every House thought they were so dangerous that every Ravenblood in existence needed to die, down to the last child. Since when do the Houses throw power away? And every person in the Godslayer’s army believed so as well. Can you truly say that you know better than every single one of them?”
A shiver ran through him. It had nothing to do with the cold.
“Maybe he was a good person when you knew him. But Blake: it’s been years. Who knows how many people he’s killed now?”
Words erupted from his mouth. “He wouldn’t, and if he did it’s not his- “
Pine’s voice coiled around his own. “-fault. Of course it’s not his fault. He’s a victim of the Ravenblood as much as anyone else. But it’s a poison, Blake,” she whispered. “It’s a sickness that twists those it creeps inside, more thoroughly than anything else in existence. Can you imagine the pain he must be in?”
His teeth clenched. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.
“If we find him, we can help him. We don’t want to destroy him. We just want the Ravenblood gone. That’s all.”
Blake smiled weakly. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know where he is.”
“We found the box.”
A thrill of fear ran through him. “What box?”
Pine rubbed her protruding forehead and sighed. “Fink?”
The Foxblood didn’t look at Blake as he explained. “I sniffed out your trail. Up the tower, through all the dung and piss, and into the storeroom. Found your supplies and confiscated them.”
Blake clenched his eyes shut. Days upon days of scavenging, all for nothing. Leaving would mean slow starvation, unless they could somehow steal their packs back from a group of six Blooded. The thought was laughable.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Fink’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Shame, that. A few more days of gathering and you’d have enough to leave the city. There’re three recent scents in there: yours, Miss Not-So-Blooded’s, and one other.”
“The Face,” the Blooded interrogator supplied.
“Whose face?” Blake quipped.
“Fox’s dripping fangs,” Fink swore ferociously, levelling a finger towards the captive, “you really think we’re that godsdamn stupid? You dumb whoreson- “
Blake snarled over the words, straining against his bonds. “Sure, I may be a son of a night-walker, but least I’m not draggin’ kids into- “
A bark cut through their insults. “Gentlemen!” Pine raised both hands. “What Fink is trying to say is that we know you’re lying.”
“Sure, I have the box- “
The Foxblood grinned toothily. “No one who lies so much has nothing to hide.”
“Fink,” Pine warned. The orange-haired man closed his eyes and began beating his fingers against his thigh. She turned her head back to Blake, looking up at him from her haunches. “Your loyalty is admirable, but misguided. Erin lied to you. Orvi lied to you.”
Blake glanced everywhere that wasn’t her watery eyes. The conviction within them stung.
“They’ve hidden everything from you. What do you owe people like that?
Erin shifted in her bonds. Blake looked at her, but she didn’t look back.
“Let us handle it. Tell us what you know.”
The woman – Dolphinblood or not – wasn’t wrong. Neither had told him anything, at the end of the day. But…
Around nine years ago, he and Orvi had broken into a retired veteran’s place. It was, in hindsight, an extremely bad idea, but both had been riding the high of several successful heists. Blake had been looking for equipment to arm the Butcher Street Boys with – they wouldn’t know how to use any of it, but the intimidation factor alone would buy them more territory. Orvi – in typical Orvi fashion – just wanted stuff to loot.
Instead, he’d spent the entire burglary staring at a spear hung on a wall. Etched into its bronze head was a small carving of a bird. It was the kind of thing that the boy couldn’t help but take. Yet in the end, Orvi hadn’t ended up taking anything.
After that, Blake had started registering more details. His friend’s compulsive stealing. Their on-and-off spats. The way he sometimes looked at Maja like she was some beautiful bear seconds away from taking his head off.
Erin had always been more subtle. Yet unlike with Orvi, Blake’s view of her hadn’t been set in the mould of a much younger, less perceptive version of himself. She didn’t know the streets like someone who’d grown up in the city. A ‘family’ never mentioned before had appeared before the battle of the Lizard, and each of them were far more skilled than anyone outside a House.
Sometimes she couldn’t meet Blake’s eyes.
He’d asked a few times, but neither Erin nor Orvi gave answers. Blake hadn’t pushed. If there was one lesson every Footer learned living in a city full of people who couldn’t sit with their back to a room, it was that there were some things you didn’t talk about.
“You think I didn’t know they kept themselves secret?” Blake stated. “I’d have to be an idiot to miss it. Orvi’s one of the dodgiest people I’ve ever known, and gettin’ Erin to answer questions is like askin’ her to pull out her own teeth. They weren’t straight with me.” He paused. “But that’s okay.”
Pine frowned. Erin’s beaten face raised towards him, matted black hair running over her eyes like a veil.
“They’re…” He swallowed. “…Family.” Blake had to have faith in that, no matter what happened.
If he didn’t, what else was there?
The Dolphinblood stared at him for several long moments. Afterwards, she sighed and straightened to her full height. “Alright.”
Beneath roiling emotions, he felt a vague sense of embarrassment at his words. It was quickly smothered by a low tension as Pine gestured to her comrades, who leaned down to let her whisper in their ears. Despite straining against his bonds, whatever was spoken remained audible only as the indistinct murmurings of wind battering against cracked earth.
At a particular set of utterances, Fink scowled and shook his head. Pine scoffed at him, jabbing a finger into his chest with a terse growl. Peeler said something to the Foxblood, then placed a hand on Pine’s shoulder. The pair managed to coax a begrudging nod from the orange-haired man.
His interrogator turned back to him. “Well, I figured you weren’t going to blab. Maybe you would’ve, if I weren’t a Dolphinblood – everything I said is correct, and you and I both know it. But- “
Both Pine and Blake startled as a crack resounded through the stockade. He whipped his head to the side, finding Fink shaking his hand as if he’d burned it. At his feet, Erin spat another shard of tooth onto the ground.
Blake licked his lips. “Oi, Fink…”
The Foxblood didn’t look at Blake. Nor did he look at Erin. He simply took her head in his hands and slammed his fist into her face, rocking the woman’s head to the side.
“Hey…”
He straightened her with both arms, then slugged her in the gut, provoking a sudden string of coughs from her mouth. Before they could halt, he placed his hand on her shoulder and began repeatedly pounding his fist into the same spot.
“Stop.”
Fink continued punching her gut. Erin’s face was screwed up in intense concentration as sweat beaded her brow. Her breath emerged in quick gasps. The hits travelled through her body, flapping the thin shirt she wore and revealing parts of the tattoo on her stomach. After one final blow, Fink quickly lifted his hand and slapped her across the face. She blinked rapidly.
“Pine, tell him to stop – she’s tougher than a brick and easily twice as stubborn as- ”
Without any flair, the Foxblood drew a knife from his belt and slammed it into her shoulder. The muscular woman screamed, harsh and surprised.
“Hey! Hey!”
It continued. A harsh snap rang out, and a shudder travelled through Blake’s body. Bile rose to his throat. As Fink returned to Erin’s front, Blake saw a shadow of a grin on his face.
“Pine, he’s gonna kill her!”
“Only Peeler can order him to stop,” she said sadly, “and that’s not happening until we get the information we need.
“How’re we supposed to have found anything? The city’s in ruins!”
The Dolphinblood shrugged.
It continued. Erin's scream was loud, the fierceness held within its contours falling into something far more ragged.
“Do it to me! She, she, she won’t talk. I’m more likely to talk.”
It continued. Metal pounded against bone.
“Gods, how can you do this? How can you let him do this? She’s done nothing!”
It continued. Every tap resounded, its sound changing as the thing it beat against broke more and more. Each was accompanied by a strangled scream from Erin. The ropes around Blake’s wrists were wet with blood as he twisted and strained towards her, shuddering at every sound.
“She can’t even say anything like that!”
It continued. One final, heavy slam, leaving Erin's face broken, quietly moaning blood.
Blake had the audacity to feel relieved it was over. Then he saw Fink staring at the knives in quiet regard.
“Don’t- “
It continued. A flash of metal, and a lump of flesh fell to the ground. It was Erin’s ear.
Blake’s scream was nearly louder than hers.
For the next several minutes, Fink continued marring Erin’s body. His victim said nothing beyond gasps or vicious swears. Blake did enough begging for the both of them, every plea scraping his throat rawer and rawer. His wrists dripped blood.
Yet the pace of the torture steadily increased, until it reached a crescendo. The torturer raised a dagger and lifted Erin’s shirt to strike at the ribs underneath, revealing a tattoo of five lines extended outwards.
“Weird tattoo. Does it mean anything?” Pine asked, looking at Peeler.
Peeler’s teeth were clenched as he watched the torture. “Maybe a kill count.”
“D’you- “
“Be quiet,” the captain growled.
Fink’s dagger flashed over her torso, the wounds revealing bone before they remembered to bleed. But it was the inches of revealed skin that sparked newer, more impossible wave of terror in Blake.
“Just stop! Please!”
Only Pine looked at him. She said nothing.
Fink kept cutting, and pulling her shirt up, and the disgust and fear blurring his vision had Blake speaking before he even understood what he was saying.
“I’ll talk! I’ll talk! It’s Fort Vane, okay?”
Pine smiled. “There it is.” She looked towards the man ravenously slicing Erin’s body, and snapped her fingers.
Immediately, the torturer’s daggers slipped from his fingers. The grin on his face slowly died. He strode past the Dolphinblood – levelling a hateful glare towards her – and out of the gate, slamming it shut behind him.
“He’ll get over it,” remarked the Blooded woman with a curl of her lips. “He’s always been sulky.”
“I think,” Peeler slowly began, “you pushed him too far.”
“Still. Fort Vane, huh?”
If his hands were free, Blake would’ve placed them over his mouth. They weren’t, though, and the blood freely flowing from Erin’s body was a more pressing concern than his desire to stab himself.
“Bandage her,” he demanded. “I’m not telling you anything else until you stop her dying.”
“You’ve told us enough,” said Pine with a disapproving frown.
“I haven’t told you everything.”
She scoffed. “Oh, go jump in- “
“Pine,” Peeler snapped, finally leaving his spot against the palisade. “Provide the woman aid.”
The Dolphinblood snorted, but acquiesced to his request. Meanwhile, her captain walked in front of Blake and stared down at him. The captive glared back.
“You gonna kill us, now?” spat the young man.
“Your friend, if she’s not forthcoming with her blood.” The Esfarian breathed a weary sigh.
“You’re tired, huh?” He hawked a gob of spit onto the cold earth. “You bastard. Maybe you shouldn’t have- “
“Do you think this is a game, Blake?” The man’s tone was heavy. “Orvi is the single most volatile human being on the continent, and every day he’s allowed to continue living is one more where he could explode.”
Blake opened his mouth to protest. “He’s not- “
“It doesn’t matter who he is. What he is, is an unacceptable risk. The life of one boy is not worth the thousands he threatens.” Peeler turned his head, gazing at a spot in the sky above, and rubbed his forehead. “If we can trust you to cooperate- “
“Oh,” Blake hissed, head full of blood and shattered teeth “go find a nice long speartree and shove it up your arse, Peeler.” Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Peeler’s voice was even. “I see.”
Before he could turn, Erin’s voice resounded through the stockade for the first time since she’d entered. It was harsh and strained. “We’ll cooperate.”
Blake’s head whirled. “What- “
His friend spoke as Pine wound bandages around her torso. “We will cooperate, Blake.” Her enunciation was slightly off – marred alongside the damage to her mouth.
The young man tried and failed to find a response.
The Dolphinblood raised an eyebrow as she performed her labour. “Why didn’t you confess quicker, if you’re so eager to help?”
“Because I thought you were going to kill us afterwards.”
Pine raised her eyebrows and glanced at Peeler.
“A fair assessment,” he said blandly. “Why did it change?”
“Your man out there wouldn’t be happy.” Erin flinched slightly as she referred to Fink. “Neither would the twins. Not now. Not so quickly.”
Pine’s brows furrowed. “You really think a Foxblood- “
The muscular woman spat a wad of blood. “Yes.”
“You’ll give up your friend that easily?” Peeler’s scepticism was almost tangible.
“Blake’s still useful. Orvi knows the twins are out to get him, and me and him were never close. He’s the best bait you have.”
The Spiderblood’s beady eyes stared levelly at Erin. “I meant Orvi.”
“He’s a Ravenblood,” she spat. “I was going to kill him anyway.”
A pause.
“What?” The question slipped out before Blake could stop it.
She turned her head towards Blake, green eyes hard behind a curtain of sweat-smeared hair. “He’s a monster, Blake.”
“You know Orvi- “
“It’s not just him,” she hissed, then groaned as the air ran over the fragments of her teeth. “It’s all Blooded. All gods. Look at me.”
Blake looked at her, his jaw clenched so hard it ached. The gaping holes in her mouth. The wounds carved in her body. The blood seeping through her bandages.
“Out there- “ She jerked her head. “- is a man that started out not wanting to do this. By the end?”
Erin snarled as Pine wrenched the bandages tighter. “He was enjoying it, the sick freak. All of them are like that. Every single one – and the gods are just Blooded taken to their very limits. They’re monsters. Blake, and it doesn’t matter who they are. Only what.”
He stared at her. “Is that what this is?” he muttered. “You lied to me for all this time… because I’m a Blooded?”
“Come off it, Blake. You’re hardly Blooded.”
“Then why?”
“We are,” Erin stated slowly, her head dangling limply, “incredibly close to ridding the world of every single hint of a god. If that’s not worth killing for, then nothing is.”
He wanted to ask a thousand things. Whether she’d always felt that way; whether her friendship was real; whether she’d ever been authentic with him. But he couldn’t figure out a way to say any of it.
And because of his silence, he noticed her make eye contact with him, and tilt her head back slightly.
Behind the speartree they were tied to, and away from the eyes of their two captors, her mangled fingers curled into a sign Blake knew well. It was simple: a middle-finger thrust upwards, always kept out of sight of whoever it referred to. The gangs used it to signal that they’d found a mark: someone to grift, trick, or rob.
He wondered whether it referred to the Esfarians or him.
----------------------------------------
Blake sat within the stockade, several blankets wrapped around his body, staring at the sky.
He was exhausted. With the interrogation complete, Peeler had commanded his Dolphinblood to stop ‘flaring’ their emotions – whatever that meant. Erin had passed out almost instantly and was promptly untied and taken away. For medical attention, they’d told him.
It was still cold. He’d been fed a hearty stew, but the days and weeks of starvation beforehand left him with too little fat to combat it properly. Come morning, he might be missing several digits.
He’d given up on thinking. So when the gate opened, he didn’t bother to look at who had entered until he heard her voice.
“How’re you doin’, kid?”
As soon as he heard the words, he slammed himself backwards, against the speartree. Standing in front of him was the tall, scarred figure of the Jackal, clad almost entirely in steel. A helmet was held beneath one arm. Draped over the other were more blankets.
“Hi,” he managed.
Val’s lips were pursed in a smug smile. “Quite the little hole you’ve found yerself in, huh? All that effort t’keep yerself alive, an’ for what?” She knelt in front of him, bringing her face closer to him. “T’be trussed up like a pig waitin’ for slaughter.”
He rested his head against the back of the speartree and closed his eyes. “I’m not gonna beg.”
“An’ why would I make you do that?”
Blake raised both brows. “You’re not angry?”
“Less, ‘cause if I were you I’da cracked my skull open in that prison. But sure I am. But blood, boy, no revenge is quite as sweet as lettin’ you live.” The murderer paused for a moment and levered herself back to her feet with a groan. She dumped the blankets onto Blake’s lap. “Nah, it’s not. But I can hardly gut you without gettin’ Esfaria after me. Still funnier than any joke I ever heard, at least.”
From within a pouch on her belt, the woman withdrew a cigarillo. Her arm was still broken, making lighting it an ordeal involving striking flint against the steel of her armour with the cigarillo clutched in her mouth. After a few attempts, she managed to light it and draw a deep drag.
“You want one?” the Jackal asked.
“…Yes?” Blake ventured.
“Too bad,” she said, then cackled. “S’much funnier when you’re the one locked up an’ not me.”
The captive just stared at her.
She took a drag on the cigarillo. “You were one o’ the people lookin’ fer the Ravenblood, right?”
“Course not.”
The Jackal scoffed. “I’ve rolled paper thicker than that lie. Avri’s little snot’s not in the city, ‘f I heard right.”
“How’d- “
She tapped the side of her helmet. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Well, if you’re lucky, I’ll be seein’ you in Fort Vane.”
“I thought you said you wouldn’t kill- “
“By all that’s green an’ good, kid, you think the sun revolve around you or somethin’?” She huffed, a toothy grin beneath her scarred lips. “I gotta go there t’get paid.”
“For what?”
“My employer knows what he wants – crazy bastard – an’ he’s trying t’make sure he gets it.”
She took one last drag of her cigarillo, then leaned down and stubbed it out on Blake’s skin. He didn’t wince – it wasn’t his first time.
“Last of my gloatin’.” She laid a hand over her chest. “General’s promise. On my honour. Hope you find what you’re searchin’ for.” She turned smartly and walked towards the gate. “When you do, the look on yer face’ll be really somethin’.”
After a moment’s consideration, she barked a laugh.
“Whoops. Broke my promise.”
----------------------------------------
Underneath the shadows of the Spires, Sash walked, placing one step after another. Amidst the shifting rubble, a single errant foot could displace the careful balance of the collapsed tower’s remains, burying an unwary scavenger in a tomb of ivory fragments. But the girl knew this, and stayed away from the larger, more precarious piles.
Her twin was with the other hunters, searching for the ‘Face’ – some sort of storyteller, she thought. Dash was so certain; so angry. They’d learned from asking around that Orvi was probably the fugitive’s apprentice, which seemed fitting to Sash. He’d always been good at telling stories. She had always listened, wide-eyed, astonished that he managed to do the things he did and come out alive. But thinking back, some of his tales seemed particularly tall. The one where her brother fought off a dozen different adults alongside Blake was one she found hard to believe.
It was only after years of watching the world around her and quietly thinking that she finally comprehended Orvi had been a liar. She should have known from the start.
As she passed over what had once been some kind of bridge – platforms strung together beneath the shattered remnants of houses, stores, and smithies – a cloud shifted and revealed a hint of the night sky. Its lights were mirrored in the lives of creatures below, quietly burning their way through existence.
Sash toed aside a piece of rubble and found what she had been searching for. Its shape – a small, crumpled ball of metal – was irrelevant. What mattered was the incomprehensible runework covering its surface, which would command the device if only provided the power.
She placed a thumb inside her mouth and bit down, wincing slightly as it broke skin. Carefully, she smeared blood over the symbols filigreeing the steel surface.
The ball flickered, then lit her face in a radiant glow.
A soft exhale fled her lips. Sash gazed at the light, trying to understand what to do next.