“W-what i-if-if she’s nice?” I stammered. I wasn’t making a compelling argument, but I was trying my best, honest! “I mean, if she meant harm, she could have done so much earlier.”

The two shepherds turned to look at each other, sharing a sceptical look.

“I don’t know,” the younger said, shaking his head. “An Elf is ill news. They only bring bad omens, or bad memories.”

“That might be true, but ever since we spotted her at the farm, less sheep end up dead,” his father retorted, scratching his chin. “Perhaps there is some truth to the words of this girl. Why do you care so much, anyway? She your friend?”

“Uh-uh-uhm,” I stammered, unable to say anything that did not resemble a stuttering whimper. “She’s… a recurring customer. I’m just trying to protect the family’s income. That’s all!”

The two men shared a look and the old one shook his head, a grin peeking from the corner of his lips.

“So a friend. Perhaps there is some truth to what you are saying. We will keep it in mind if we see her again.”

“Thank you! Please keep that in mind for the future!” I waved at the two of them as they left, trying not go up in flame like a pile of dry firewood.

Mom and Dad both said it was going to get easier, but maybe it didn’t… I was just getting a little more used to it.

I let a long breath through my nose and turned towards the market square.

“Good morning once more!” I greeted the cheese vendor. “Nice to see you again here, I would like to talk a bit about the Elf who lives on the hills, do you have a moment?”

+++

Fall announced itself with a storm of freezing rains, six days in a row.

Coincidentally, it happened during the Crimson Days, when the planetary ring tilts right in front of the sun – which would have turned the entire sky a dark shade of rust for the whole time, but together with the copious rains it looked like we had to pass through six days of night.

And it never stopped pouring for one moment.

It got so bad that I had to help with fixing the roof, just to make sure our seals held tight and no water fell into the furnace.

“I can understand why,” I huffed as I crouched on the roof, pulling the mantle tighter around my body as I helped Dad affix a new plate of terracotta to our water seals. It was hard to see, and we had to lit lamps in the middle of the day.

Rain pattered all over the shingles and it covered the world in a red-grey curtain. All I could see was the faint outline of the closest mills and building. The line of the hills nothing more than a rusty shape, like the back of a slumbering beast. Kishirra was still out there.

Somewhere.

I hope she had found a dry place where to get herself some respite from the rain and the Crimson Days.

“You want to keep water from sloshing into the furnace,” I said handling him a new pair of nails. “It would be a pain to dry the entire conduit.” I surely was not looking forward to it.

“Hm? Oh no, Lugana, nothing like that.”

“What?”

“It’s to avoid water meet whatever else lays in those tubes and pipelines. Didn’t you notice we never have to clean the upper turbines of the furnace?”

That… had never actually occurred to me, but now that he mentioned it, it did make sense. We never did anything like that.

“That’s because they clean by themselves. I had an accident fifteen years ago when during a storm water rushed in and the furnace coughed sputtering blue flames for three days. I couldn’t work with it for a week. Maybe you don’t remember.”

I didn’t. Maybe I had been just too young.

Must be another Kiengiri thing. After all, not even Kishirra knew what we were dealing with.

“Almost done!” Dad finished hammering in a few more nails and then he ran his fingers down the new seal, checking the newly-reinforced seal. “All good. Pick the tools up, we can get down.”

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I did as I was told and then I rushed in for a warm bath. Mom had already prepared it, and as I listened to the rain prickling its fingers against the glass I felt doubly-grateful we managed to get the seals done in time.

It was also thanks to me, in way. When the clouds first came to the horizon, my parents were both busy and we couldn’t have gotten enough seals in time. It was up to me to go to the market and check if they still had enough wax for sale.

“I was so much more worried about the storm and Kishirra than talking with others…” I muttered looking at my hands. “Progress. I’m making progress. I just hope you’re safe out there.”

But then again, she probably was. She was a tough cookie, Kishirra.

My cheeks blushed a little harder than the hot water warranted as I thought about the other thing I had been looking forward, other than a bit more sun.

“The lemon festival is coming soon.” I bit my lip, my heart thundering like the overhead storm. It had been a long time since I had been there, but I starkly remembered the feasts, the dances, music and the final bonfire to celebrate the end of the old year and the new one. Kishirra might like it too. “I am going to ask her to come.”

+++

Thunder exploded against the curtain of the sky, carving the battered form of one female Elf, panting and heaving as she gathered the last of her strength.

She was surrounded by smoking corpses, the chalk-like matter of their bodies dissolving like wet paint in bleached rivulets and muddy pools.

Around her, other gaunt and hooked figures waited, wavering back and forth. They might have looked like confused marionettes, puppets waiting for the hand that pulled the strings to relay their orders through their limbs.

“Such an important occasion,” Kishirra sputtered. “You came out of your lair to greet me. I ought to feel honoured.” She heaved and then she put herself upright, picking up her poleaxe out of the dirt and pointing the polished not-glass at another pale figure. Unlike the others, it was distinctly female, wearing a long white robe that wavered opposite to the wind. Streams of rainfall sizzled against her skin as if they hit a searing pan. A single fragment of what looked like a gem shone with a cold blue light in the middle of the figure’s chest.

That detail did worry her. She had her suspicions but that hungry azure light…

I had to extend my congratulations. Your prowess is nary a compliment to your inane stubbornness, but it is endearing.

“Touching.” Kishirra drew a breath. She was losing blood. It flew down a cut on her abdomen, pouring out thick and golden. It was as if someone had opened her midsection to find a reservoir of glistening resin. Wonder if her former Kiengiri makers also bled gold? Or was it something they had added to her kind just because they liked it?

She could not focus on such matters right then.

The face of the Lugana Delebasse girl flashed behind her eyes like another thunder. She was here for her as well.

She was trying to do what was good.

Defeating these monsters and their puppeteer – this was her Test.

Can you at least stop lying to yourself? The figure in white asked. Her face soured and she raised an accusing finger towards Kishirra. You are not here for her. You are not here for your fake sunny goddess. You are here to save your own skin. Because you cannot live with yourself and the consequences of what you are. And where has that brought you?

Kishirra blinked tiredly, trying to shake off the raindrops. She was so worn-out. Her body ached, her bones felt like they had been replaced with thin glass – if she made a wrong move her body would shatter in a thousand shards. Another thunder flashed her shadow against the ground, specked with the gold from her blood.

Where did that take her? Hopefully, one step closer.

But it was true that she was out there for herself and herself only.

“It matters not.” She closed her eyes, focusing her will. She had only to resist a couple more minutes.

The other would get tired. She would slither back into the deep pits beneath the hills, and she would trouble her no more. She would do her duty. Then she could go find the Delebasse girl and ask for more help…

And here we go with more selfish desires, the smoky voice said, insinuating through her own thoughts like a snake in the shadows. You could just let go and pick her up. Nobody could stop you, nobody ought to. Take your little girl and go be happy somewhere else, away from the pain and the hurt and the sorrow. Or what will happen when one day you are not strong enough and…

She did not finish, leaving the threat lingering.

Kishirra gritted her teeth.

“By sunrise, we wake up with bright thoughts.” She placed both hands on her weapon. A small bout of heat roared from inside her stomach up, a warmth that spoke of long pleasant summers, of sunlight peering the green leaves of trees, or laughter shared among father and daughter. Her skin, usually so dark, began to glow with a faint golden hue.

You would just tire yourself up.

“By midday, we share bright words with each other.”

The heat increased. Her hands glowed even brighter – she aimed her weapon at the figure in white, still holding her eyes closed. She did not need her eyes to aim. She did not need her eyes to see.

She had Someone else who saw for her. Ansàrra had taken pity on her lack of faith, on her lack of strength and on her cruel destiny.

And see how selfishly you repay such kindness.

No-

No, she was not just…

She was…

Kishirra shuddered. The heat waned, the cold air seeping into her bones. The light around her fizzled.

No.

She had to be better.

She had to do better.

Like Lugana.

“And by eventide, we have done bright deeds.” She gritted her teeth – it wasn’t her hope that mattered, it wasn’t her frailty that mattered. She was merely a conduit. She had been allowed to share in the warmth of Ansàrra.

A thin bout of golden flames ran down the Kiengiri weapon. They sizzled and fizzled, sputtering like wet firewood.

It would have to do.

Kishirra charged the closest Chalker with a shrill scream.

+++

By the next morning, rain had washed over every stain but her shame.

She lay on the grass, looking up at the dawn as it rolled past the edge of the hills. Kishirra’s hand rose, three fingers extended. She lay in the mud, and her back ached.

Her whole body did, in fact – but nowhere as much as her heart.

Her brigandine lay ripped, showing her wounded body.

Kishirra made to raise her hand to the sky, but her arm did not move, did not even twitch. She was too weak.

Too much of a failure.

Too selfish.

“Peace be to the Unreturned,” she muttered.

Nobody answered her.