Taka marched down the dirt road, staring at his trembling hands through tear-filled eyes. He clenched his hands into fists to stop the shaking, but that did nothing to calm the grief and anger in his heart.
To his left, the team’s healer, the tall and elegant Kemo Frostblade, stalked like a hunting cat. Her motions were precisely controlled, but he could sense her icy mana roiling. Curling tendrils of frost grew over her light, leather armor, and each of her footsteps was marked by a patch of brittle ice.
Atti, their ranged caster and the youngest member of their team, fared the worst out of the three of them. His eyes were dark and hollow, and it looked like it was taking all his concentration to put one foot in front of the other.
Clutched between his hands was a dark urn that contained everything that remained of their leader, Rotomin Farlight, one of the strongest users of fire magic in the city, reduced to ash.
Taka had shaped the urn from nearby stone, while Atti used his Flamethrower skill to cremate what little was left of the mangled body, and Kemo eviscerated the monster they’d been sent to slay with all the untamed rage of a winter storm. She might prefer to heal, but she had no problem killing when it was called for.
Even after the monster lay frozen and shattered, her rage was unsated. After all, it had been a team of humans who had slain their friend while they were distracted, not any monster. The assassins came and went so quickly that all Taka had seen were blurs, killing his friend and leader like he was nothing more than an insect, without so much as an explanation.
Atti stumbled, nearly dropping the urn. Taka’s heart seized, even if the vessel he’d crafted was durable enough to survive being dropped. He breathed out a sigh of relief when Atti kept hold of it.
Kemo wasn’t so forgiving.
“Watch you feet you clumsy, dirty-”
Taka’s mind drifted away from the brewing argument.
He should’ve intervened, kept the peace like he usually did, but he just couldn’t find the strength to care.
Kemo was holding the urn when they arrived at the Slayer’s Guild outpost beside the city’s western wall.
The receptionist asked him questions, but they were just noise. More and more officials and slayers came to see what had happened. Someone must’ve explained something, because the three of them were shuffled into a side room, while grim men and women discussed their fates.
Taka and Atti both sat and stared at nothing. Taka was silent, while the younger man muttered constantly under his breath. Kemo paced the length and breadth of the room, ice still forming in her wake.
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Taka had no idea how long they waited there before he overheard something outside, which tore him from comfortable oblivion.
“I don’t understand, mom. Where’s dad?”
***
Taka sat across the table from Nymin Farlight. Meeting her gaze took more courage than fighting a thousand monsters.
She was an unusual woman, intangible, translucent, ethereal, glowing a faint blue, and draped in a simple dress formed from the same semi-tangible material as her flesh. None of those things were what made this conversation so difficult. That was the result of the shame in his heart.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join? Kemo’s always been right. You’d make a fantastic slayer.”
Taka wasn’t lying. Nymin’s talent, which had transformed her into an intangible wraith, gave her unparalleled defense against physical attacks, and her mana draining abilities could be both a potent attack and source of power to use other skills.
Those weren’t the real reasons he was offering, but they were still true.
Nymin shook her head, looking at her daughter’s bedroom door. Taka had been dreading facing Dyani when he dropped by, but hearing that she’d barricaded herself inside her room, refusing even to eat, hurt just as much as seeing the grief on her face.
“You know I’ve never wanted to fight. Besides, being a slayer is too dangerous. Even without something like-” Her voice caught. She took a silent moment to gather herself. A single, glowing tear fell from her cheek, puffing away into a cloud of mana. “Dyani needs me here.”
The sat in silence while Taka considered how he could change her mind.
“It won’t be easy without him. You know people can be-”
“Thrice shattered pieces of drake shit,” Nymin interrupted, chuckling without any real mirth, “I know what people are like, Takaplinth, and I don’t need a guild, or anyone else to protect me from them.”
He frowned, looking out the window, at Root Perch’s twisting, wooden architecture, which gave the impression of a grove of gnarled trees. It had always struck him as odd that such a unique and beautiful city could house such prejudice against anyone who looked less than completely human. While Rotomin had been alive, his noble blood had kept Nymin isolated from the worst of it, even if he had been estranged from his family. Things would be different now, especially since Rotomin’s extended family wanted nothing to do with his widow and daughter.
Any potential protection from them was as dead as Rotomin. The Slayer’s Guild held the necessary political power to keep Nymin safe and unbothered, but they had no reason to offer it if she didn’t want to join.
“You could leave the city,” Taka offered, “Bristlecone isn't far and it's more open-minded than the people here. You could get a real job, make enough to live like a queen. It doesn’t even have to involve fighting.”
Nymin stared at her daughter’s door once again, so intently that Taka half believed she could see right through it.
“Did you know that Dyani’s got her own little team? The four of them are always dancing around the place, pretending to fight monsters and breaking things.”
“I did,” Taka said, “To be honest, I think I know more about Dyani than my own son. Rotomin wouldn’t shut up about her. He was so proud. We were actually getting pretty annoyed about it.”
The two of them exchanged sad smiles.
“I can’t take her away from that, not after losing so much, no matter what it costs.”