It’s done.

My heart is heavy but numb as I look at the destruction all around me, piles of corpses mixed with rubble from the damaged building and the floor coated with blood. It didn’t take long for the hunters to break. There are quite a few survivors, those who were smart enough to cut and run when they realized what they were up against. As annoying as they are, I understand them. Why they are fighting the March so hard. Why they keep fighting me, despite losing over and over.

I understand that they can’t understand. Their leaders, who equate their resources to their power and their power to their lives, cannot understand that the north isn’t trying to destroy them. They can’t fathom that all this pain and loss is only meant to satisfy some bullshit tradition put in place by the crazy bastards that have been sentencing their people to death for five centuries. If it were anyone else behind it, it’d be an act of war. A ploy to weaken the city, leaving it ripe for invasion. They think that if they give in, they doom their future.

I also understand that they can’t understand me. By now, I’m sure the guilds, saints maybe everyone in this city, knows about me. How strong I am and how impossible it’s proved to kill me. Despite that, they can’t accept it. An “invincible” enemy doesn’t exist. Can’t exist. There has to be a trick, a gimmick.

It reminds me of how I used to view Kierra’s pure affinity. There are plenty of stories about people who wield them. I knew she was capable of anything she could imagine but I didn’t understand until I saw her magic in action. There was a disconnect between knowledge and experience.

When I think of that, it seems obvious to me now that there was no way the hunters would make the smart decision from a few reports. I think…I’ve handled this a bit clumsily. I don’t know if I could have avoided this scene, standing with my head bowed while surrounded by death, but I could have chosen my path with a bit more intention.

There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be a heartless villain but when lives are on the line, such considerations are nothing but a burden. I should have been more decisive, perhaps more ruthless, from the beginning. Or I should have ran away to Kierra’s tree. Trying to walk a path between the two is what got me in trouble.

Thinking positively, this whole fiasco will serve as a good lesson. Both for me and the guilds. If they’re smart, losing so many people for no reason will remind them that nothing is more important than their lives. And perhaps it will inspire the hunters, accustomed to peaceful days of unquestioned authority, to do more. Expand their rigid way of thinking.

…but it’s strange.

The fight in the basement was certainly intense…but it was also anti-climatic. These people were meant to be the pillars of the Sword movement. Those who think so much of themselves that they think they can fight off the north. Yet, the spells thrown at me were nothing more than powerful projectiles of their elements. The weapons used were also plain steel instead of artifacts. They were hasty and uncoordinated.

They were weak.

I suppose being the loudest voices doesn’t mean they are the strongest. The environment could have also been a limiting factor. Besides, Geneva didn’t mention anything. She’d know if the gathering was some kind of trap or if the hunters had any strange intentions.

“Kii.”

The elf looks up from where she is examining a corpse. For what, I can’t even guess. Nothing important given the way she abandons whatever she’s doing and wanders over to me. She wears a satisfied smile, right at home in the destruction. Her arms are spread in an invitation and I waste no time accepting it, sighing as she pulls me against her.

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“Victories are—"

“Meant to be celebrated, I know.”

“Then why the long expression?”

“I guess…I’m just not the type to find joy in these kinds of things.”

My words must sound crazy to her. I can almost hear her mind turning them over, trying to piece them together. But to my surprise, she doesn’t react with confusion or insistence that I embrace my violent fate. A comforting hand lands on my head, stroking my hair comfortingly. “Then I will celebrate for the both of us.”

My chuckles are muffled as I bury my nose into her chest. “Thanks. I’m counting on you.”

“My summoner.”

I turn my head to look at Geneva. Despite the fighting, her appearance is pristine, not so much as a speck of blood on her white dress. Her normally teasing expression is as emotive as stone. There is a tension between us as we lock gazes.

Since the news of my father’s death, my relationship with the succubi has been tumultuous. After my talk with Talia, I know Geneva’s harsh words were meant to manipulate me. Since I’ve broken away from that path, both sides are re-evaluating our positions. That’s the next problem I’ll have to tackle.

There’s no way I can face a dragon or anything adjacent to it in a year without her help.

“What is it?”

“…”

She’s hesitating. Geneva does not hesitate.

“As a master of the mind, I believe in reason and deduction. Action should be taken based off validated facts or, if they are lacking, logical conclusions based off the information available.” Her tail flicks with what I think is agitation. “Yet, I have lived too long to discount the power of intuition. Sometimes it is the effect of an untrained affinity. Sometimes it is the subconscious drawing conclusions from stimuli a being doesn’t consciously recognize.”

“The point!” I demand, dread gnawing at my stomach.

“Something isn’t right.”

It must be a bad sign that she agrees with my vague feeling. “Explain.”

“I can’t.” Her eyes flick over the basement. “There is no evidence I can point to, no logic I can explain. That is the point.”

Feeling a sense of crisis, I step out of Kierra’s arms. “We need to move. Kii, find Alana and the estrazi. Geneva, we’re going back to the house.” Whatever is going on, it doesn’t matter so long as everyone is safe. We can take our time figuring things out once we’re all together.

Kierra doesn’t bother trying to question our bad feelings, she just jumps into action, leaping to the floor above us and sprinting away. I’m quick to follow and Geneva is right on my heels. We burst out of the warehouse, my succubus left behind as my powerful body practically flies down the road.

The smell of smoke is thick in the air but there are hardly any flames, the people gawking at the efforts to subdue them speaking with tones that suggest interest rather than fear. It soothes my worries about Alana’s safety and I leap over them, my whole attention focused on reaching the Teppin estate as fast as possible.

Even with my speed it still takes a handful of minutes. I slow down as I near the front door, the dread in my gut gaining strength. The first thing I spot is the disturbed ground. It’s hard to spot. Saints, I doubt I could without my impressive eyesight. But because of my eyes, I can tell there is an unnatural pattern in the dirt. A slight unevenness. It normally wouldn’t warrant a second glance but given my bad feeling that is steadily growing stronger—

Wait.

Why is it so quiet?

My ears should be able to hear a mouse breathing at every corner of this estate, including its expansive yard. Yet, I don’t hear anything. No breaths. No heartbeats. No squeaking little balls of fluff or Talia’s beautiful voice as she practices. Not even insects. Nothing.

A shaky breath escapes my lips as I force myself to remain calm. Near the disturbed earth, I lower myself until I nose nearly touches the ground. Then I breathe in, actively trying to parse the scents.

There are over a dozen, everyone that has come and gone from the estate for days, but four are the most prominent. Two I recognize. The first is Fen and the second is one I didn’t realize I had remembered until smelling it a second time. Mr. Interim, the hunter that had so many questions. The other two are human and male. Given the presence of the interim guildmaster, it’s reasonable to assume they’re also hunters.

Hunters were here and I don’t hear my family.

Breathe, Lou. Jumping to conclusions won’t help. I have to remain calm, at least until I know what happened.

Walking through the house confirms what my ears tell me. No one is home. The carriage the Stars arrived on and their mounts are also gone. There are no traces of blood, but the possessions left behind and the lingering fear of Anna’s pets staining the floor of the room shared by the siblings tells me they left in a hurry.

The picture is nearly complete and the last piece is waiting for me in Lord Teppin’s bedroom, a folded piece of paper sitting neatly at the end of the bed.

I carefully pick it up, holding my breath as I start to read.