Without the hood or the pompous attitude to cover him, Tonitrus looked like any other young man in Jericho: dark skin, black hair and a look of utter, abject horror in his eyes. Gabrielle was standing right in front of him, her sword sinking so deep into the young man’s shoulder that he couldn’t even hope to move it, or the rest of his body. She looked frustrated, and with good reason: she always aimed for the head, but this time exhaustion had taken a toll on her aim. There was no reason to give these people more time of the day than just a swift death… and yet, when Gabi tried to pull her sword out, the man grabbed its blade and kept it in place, shooting her a defiant glare.

“W-Why… are you doing this…?!” Tonitrus managed to utter, taking slow gasps to try and keep the pain under control. “Who are you!?”

The woman stared back at him, unblinking. Seeing that she wouldn’t be able to pull her sword out, she pushed harshly back in, leaving a huge gash on the man’s hand to force him to let go… and yet he still held on to it, his hand trembling as blood began staining the blade.

“Answer me! Who or what are you!?”

“My name is Gabrielle.” Once again, she pulled the blade. “People call me Gabi.”

Tonitrus let out a pained snarl, his back arching and his feet kicking in the water, but his hand still didn’t let go of the sword. He knew for a fact that if he allowed this crazy woman to recover control of that steel slab, she would most certainly kill him on the spot. He needed to make time, time for…

… For what, really? All the others definitely ran away already. This would be his same fate if the Church snatched him, unless he confessed of course. Whatever the case, he was certainly screwed.

So then, why did he cling to life like this? Fear of death? Or maybe… maybe he just wanted to know.

“Why are you killing us like this!? Who sent you!? The Church!? The local crown!?”

“No one.” Frustrated, Gabrielle twisted the sword slightly, squeezing another pained scream from the man. “Now be quiet and die.”

“Then why are you doing this!?”

“Because….”

Why.

Why was she doing this?

Saint Martha never killed anyone, except for a few dragons of course. This was certainly not what she would do! She would kick the butts of anyone who wronged her, but killing them… no one had told her to do it. It’s something that came to her naturally, as her way to stop them from spreading suffering.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

So she did it to stop them from spreading suffering? Was that really it?

No. No it wasn’t.

She could still feel the pain coursing through her body, the years of neglect and torture. She could see the faces of Donatella and Samantha, and the many others that “ascended” under Father’s constant work. Every time she summoned it, every time electricity pushed her to the limit, she remembered it all again. Samantha’s body on the ground, motionless; Baraqiel’s marks all over his skin.

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes… and for the first time, she felt words push their way up her throat, one after another.

“Because I hate you.”

She was surprised by that! She had never truly crystalized her emotions into words before, but the relief coming from it pushed her to speak even more:

“I hate you. I hate you! All of you! All demiurges! And as long as I am alive, you will never know peace.”

Tonitrus’ eyes opened widely, he screamed as the woman twisted the sword inside of him a bit more. The pain forced him to let go of the sword, and Gabrielle immediately pulled it back out, raising it and preparing for the coup de grace. At that moment, the demiurge understood it all: this woman was one of the survivors from a Demiurge’s experiments. To think someone would be as sloppy as to leave someone alive and harboring grudges like that! In his last moments, the man cursed both that fool and the monster of hate he had created.

As the sword swung down, he closed his eyes and waited.

“STOP!”

The impact was minimum. He felt a cut on the top of his head, but nothing beyond a grace. The sword had stopped right before touching bone. Tonitrus opened his eyes, staring at Gabrielle for an instant, then looking up at the sword on his head… and then he fainted, unable to endure pain and stress for longer.

Confused as to whom commanded her and why, Gabi turned around and saw… an old friend.

A woman around her age clad in shiny, beautiful silver armour, with brilliant locks of black hair falling from her head and a pair of hazel eyes staring right at her with a concerned look. This woman was panting, a hand raised towards her.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many inquiries had been made about the old Alpé Forests up north. Whispers of the last colony of demihumans hiding away from the entire world there. Excited, Esperanza and Ignatius had taken the vanguard work on herself, scouting the way into the woods, eager to find and talk to the disappearing demihumans to ask a million questions. At first her search didn’t pull many results, just some game prancing about and mild signs of habitation near the only river crossing the thicket.

But things changed when she saw the lights in the forest.

No one really believed her much when speaking about it, but Esperanza could swear it: she saw light falling from the Moon, as if the Sphere was weeping for them all. Was it a sign from the Saints? Maybe the Creator himself? She could not say, but she followed the lights to the best of her ability. They guided her to a clear in the middle of it all, a place she somehow had missed despite her best efforts.

Abandoned tents, old cooking spots and pieces of cloth scattered about… but not only that. There was also a young redheaded girl, sitting in the middle of it all with tears in her eyes.

“Why do you cry?” Asked Esperanza, walking over to her while Ignatius investigated the scene.

“They are all gone.” Said Gabrielle, shaking her head slowly. “All of them.”

“Where did they go…?”

“To a better place.”

Her words were cryptic, but somehow Esperanza understood what she meant. They had all walked away from this world, going somewhere kinder to them, softer, more welcoming… somewhere both girls yearned to go one day.

The black haired saint looked at Gabrielle for a moment. She didn’t have her name and yet, with a single look into her sorrowful eyes, she felt it. Kinship, understanding… experiences that harrowed, deep in her soul. Esperanza wished to talk, long and deep! To see how right her intuition was… but a sign from Ignatius made it clear that they had no time for pleasantries.

“Go. Run.” She told the redhead. “The Genesis are coming, and they don’t like people like you… run.”

Gabrielle was confused for a moment, but she knew that the Genesis were bad news for her. Standing up and cleaning her eyes, she looked at the Saint one last time, before quickly disappearing into the forests.