Souls Absorbed: 0

–-The day AFTER Ashera’s crucifixion–-

Diana sucked in her stomach and pressed herself lower into the grass as her prey approached. Green spines pricked her skin, itching her body despite the cool kiss of morning dew. These humans were fools, journeying through Ellin Forest without a care in the world, as if they were kings and queens instead of meat.

Clip-clop creaaaak

The sounds of a caravan of wagons reach her, eight wagons moving in sync made one of her yearling wolves –barely older than a puppy– peek its head above the grass. Diana let out a throaty growl, the yearling jumped in surprise, yelping and plunging himself into the patch of tall grass. Diana winced at his yelp.

Had the humans heard him? She listened intently, not daring to risk a peek.

Clip-clop creaaaak

Human body odors wafted through the air, mingling with dried road apples and the perfume of mistletoe, if the humans heard, she couldn’t tell, they sounded the same as before. She risked extending her mana through Ellin forest, limiting her mana ping to the sawgrass and ground. Eight wagons moved as they had, human voices echoed through the quiet woods. Yet something was off Guards already had arrows knocked or spears in their hands.

Damn impatient welp. Wait til we get home yearling, then I’ll give you something to yelp about. Thought Diana, sending her fury through their telepathic pack mind link.

Dozens of wolves growled their agreement, filling their hive mind with empty bellies screaming at the foolish yearling. Diana mentally snapped her fingers, –SILENCE, we have prey to hunt.-- Her order cleared the group telepathy of emotions. Free of distractions, she sniffed the air, her lupine nose not detecting the telltale presence of ozone that signaled an offensive spell. This band should have at least one mage, that bright soul was their prize, the object of their hunt, without the mage’s soul this would be a waste of their time.

Cassian, Elara, change of plans, you two will join the vanguard. Remember the mission mother gave us, tear off their arms and leave them for the others to pin down until I get there. Kill those who might escape. No survivors, especially no mages.

As you command. Answered Cassian.

Yes, my priestess. Answered Elara.

The twin Lycanthropes began to shimmy forward, slinking through the tall grass on their bellies, sawgrass bit into their flesh, opening a thousand hair thick cuts along their human bodies. Cassian cursed in the telepathic link, drawing hoots of derision from wolves who sent images of their lucious winter coats.

Damn Ellin Forest.

The ambush site was little more than a rocky shale hill on one side and stunted cattails growing along a stream, the best ambush local they could find in ten leagues. It was the blight’s fault, the way it leeched energy from the surrounding world stunted the growth and lifespan of all life, be it flora or fauna. Thankfully there seemed to be an underground wellspring nearby, blessing the grass with enough water to grow taller than the surrounding woods Insects buzzed in Diana’s nose, a nuisance to her human form. Still, the werewolves were too large to hide in a foot of grass, forcing Elara and Cassian to crawl through the grass in their human forms.

Several moments passed as the wagons crept into the kill zone, the wagon with a creaky wheel drew closer, inching towards its death. A few more seconds is all they needed, then they would be in the kill zone.

Shale broke free of the hill, a legion of blaring horns to Diana’s sensitive ears.

“Careful Jerry, don’t let the scary rock piss your pants!” Jeered one of the guards.

Yes, Jerry. Be careful. Thought Diana, knowing that once the last wagon entered the alley they could trap the rear with wolves, forming a cage of teeth and Lycans from every angle. Quite the feat of planning considering how sparsely wooded Ellin was, just four more cart lengths and everything would be in position.

“Oi Jared, I thought I saw something in the grass.” Shouted one of the human guards.

Three more cart lengths.

“What do you expect me to do. You’ve got the bow. Shoot it you idjit!”

The lead wagon began to slow.

No no no! If the caravan stopped now then the rear wagons would be able to escape! They would have to run them down across open terrain, presenting themselves as targets for mages and archers. Diana fought the urge to shift, her instincts lusting after human throats. Warm beating souls flicked her ears, charming caresses from delicious platters. Real, corn fed, free ranging human.

An arrow burrowed into her shoulder, piercing pain made her want to cry out. Damn puppy. She cursed, clenching her jaw so tightly that her teeth sank into their roots. Muscles coiled around the arrow shaft, her healing factor encapsulating and rejecting the foreign object. Slicing pain surrounded the barbs, scalding her spine as the arrows cut on the way out.

Diana dared not move, too scared to breathe.

A wolf in the rear of the ambush transferred his sight through the pack mind. Showing the last wagon pass the tree Diana had marked. She smiled, knowing the arrow’s pain would be avenged.

Begin the ambush. Do not let any escape. She said.

Two howls pierced the sun, making horses jitter and men spin to see the wolves coming up their rear –a feint– to distract from the shifting Lycans in front. Slender Elara hit the lead wagon first, brown fur instantly darkened by the blood of two human arms. The poor man didn’t even have time to scream in pain before she tore into his companion

Muscular Cassian hit the third wagon, he moved slower than normal, a vain attempt to restrain his bloodlust as he tore into the humans. He nipped at the man’s shoulder, accidentally removing his head along with the scapula. Blood geysered from the dead man, raining over the woman beside him and staining the wagon’s wood a dark mahogany. She let out a shriek of terror. Thrusting a knife into Cassian’s gut. Had it been a dagger or shortsword, he might have felt her sting, but the kitchen knife snapped at the handle. Its half tang construction too weak for the job of fileting werewolves.

It was a small mercy that she did not have time to process her failure. Cassian’s claws tore off her arms and moved on, running rearward to kill escapees. Scores of wolves attacked the caravan, teeth found ankles, tripping humans, turning them into living pantries for their approaching kin.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The Mother’s will be done.

Diana shifted one arm into her human form and withdrew her Mother’s ‘gift’, careful to keep it within the leather sack it had come in. Massaging the orb to the sack’s mouth she winced as the black orb appeared, its inner darkness warping the air as if sucking light itself into its depths, creating a ball of shadows around her hand, tendrils of darkness grasping at the nearest soul. She pressed the vile mass of darkening tendrils into an armless man’s throat, diligently holding the orb in contact as the man screamed, apparently bothered by the extraction of his soul. Diana wasn’t. She continued onto the woman Cassian had dis-armed, siphoning her soul as well. The process –however loudly they protested– lasted a trifling span of seconds.

Moving through the caravan of broken bodies she realized there was no risk of escapees. Cassian’s strength and Elara’s speed were more than enough to overwhelm the humans, breaking their limbs so Diana could capture them. No mages seemed to be present, abolishing any need for Diana’s ambush plan. One Lycan was more than enough, and she had brought seven.

One by one she pressed the orb against dying humans, absorbing their souls into the Mother’s weapon. Ellin’s blight drained their mana, but the Soul Sphere wasn’t a mundane storage device, it was a prison of souls, one that slaved the souls to itself, creating a weapon that produced power instead of consuming it. A uniquely cursed artifact amongst the endless sea of runic blades and artificer weapons.

Grow strong you damn orb of death. You must grant Ashera the mana of an archangel before the year is out. Thought Diana, careful to keep her thoughts private from the pack mind.

Reaching the end of the caravan she found a circle of her siblings, wolves and other Lycans surrounding a pale man with hair darker than midnight. He held Cassian by the heart, broken ribs splayed around his hand, wiggling as the Lycan’s healing factor attempted to pull them back into his chest, the man seemed not to care and held a glimmer blue blade to Cassian’s throat.

“Ah hello priestess, my name is Loki. Please take note that while I am holding one of yours captive, he is still alive. In fact, I haven’t slain any of your kin.”

Diana shivered, he was using magic openly in Ellin Forest, the blight should have stolen his power–

“Yes yes, the blight is icky. Look, these humans were a mark of mine, not an ally. I should tear you all limb from limb for robbing me, but I haven’t the time to quarrel with the Huntress. Nor am I so foolish to try even if I did. Let me pass unhindered and I will forget whatever you were doing with that Soul Sphere.” Said Loki, guessing, or reading her thoughts.

Diana’s eye twitched, bloodlust rising at the demigod’s implications. One thought derailed her train of thought.

Killing him will not serve Mother. She telepathically shared her vision of the man’s current form, noting his pale skin and oddly dark hair.

Ignore this one, he is a ghost, forget you ever saw him and never speak of it again. By my Mother’s command. She ordered.

Many wolves were ready to challenge her order, their fangs barred and hackles raised; until they heard the last four words. As suddenly as a guillotine they dispersed. The Huntress, doting grandmother that she was, did not know the meaning of ‘forgiveness’, a long hunt and a painful end awaited those who were foolish enough to slight her will.

Loki flicked his sword, sheathing its glimmering blade in a fluid twirl as he kicked Cassian forward. The gaping chest wound –through which Loki had been holding his heart– sealed itself, his Lycanthropic powers functioning slower than was normal.

“A wise choice priestess. Send the Huntress my regards.” Said Loki, waving cordially, like one would do after a tea party.

Bones crunched in his wake as wolves tore into their prey, strengthening their bodies for the hunt that had brought them across the Keresh. Eighteen human souls had been added to the orb, it wasn’t much, in fact, it may as well been nothing, eighteen flickering candles, generating as much heat as mana, failing to combat the drain of Ellin’s blight.

We have failed our mission. Mother’s chosen champion will have to empower this weapon with their own violence. If they can find the will to condemn bright souls. You’ll have to target mages Ashera, maybe even a Seraph if you can find one stupid enough.

Time was running short, she needed to find the Mother’s chosen warrior. Diana circulated mana through her face, scenting the air for sorrow. Geruvah should have already crucified Ashera… And indeed she had, the stench of her woe hit Diana full in the face, bitch slapping the Lycan across leagues.

The Mother’s champion was calling her.

Suffer a little more Ashera, we are coming for you.

—

Pain smothered Ashera. Drenching her in liquid torment.

Her arms ached, her feet felt like they were being split apart by steel spikes –which they were– and her whole body felt like she was being pulverized. Whoever invented crucifixion is a real asshole. Thought Ashera, recalling with an iota of satisfaction that the Keresh Reaver who had invented the practice found himself on the receiving end shortly thereafter. Not that it helped her, or brought any relief.

With a painful jerk, Ashera realized she was halfway through dying, relaxing her arms she hung on the cross, giving her legs a moment’s reprieve from carrying her body weight. Hopeless annoyance at her powerless state made her pull against the nails in her forearms, spreading radius and ulna apart with the inch thick spike’s tapered shaft. Pain ignited reflexes, the urge to preserve her body screaming from her brainstem to make it stop, robbing her strength. Convulsions wracked her as pain fried neurons forcing her to give up and press her hands against the blackwood beam. Direct skin to blight contact that sapped her paltry reserves of mana.

No strength, no mana, no family or allies left…

The reaper would come for her soon.

Why had her family done this to her? With nothing else to do on the cross but contemplate her own failings, her mind wandered back to what should have been the best day of her life.

–A day and a half before Ashera’s crucifixion–-

Thirty hours of memories abbreviated themselves into a fugue of pushing and pain, passing through Ashera’s mind like a summer breeze. Vesper’s adept touch guided the birth, with Lorelai and Tristan -Ashera’s knight husband- comforting her throughout the two days and single night. Members of Loki’s Lucky Seventy Seven came and went, eager to catch a glimpse of the first child born in Ellin Forest. Anxiety crossed the women’s faces, each hoping to see a healthy infant and fearing that the Blackwood blight might have twisted the baby, cursing the innocent with scales or taint.

Men came to pay their respect to Tristan, bringing offerings of distinctive bones, fresh berries, or dried meats. Nerus Brought a rattle for the baby and Balorian visited them several times to deliver smoked boar and a fragrant soup that made Ashera drool. As if she weren’t already a hot mess, legs spread and sopping with sweat.

Ephraim was absent, a visible sin that was made conspicuous after their older sister Jude arrived, bringing a cradle made from bleached rib bones and lined with coarse boar’s fur. The thought of swaddling Aleyander inside the cage of human bones made Ashera question her sanity.

Bones for a cradle. Sis, what-the-ever-loving-fuck. Why use human bones? Shit… would demon bones be any better? Ah, but I can’t say that to her face, Aleyander’s birth is probably more difficult for her than it is for me. Choking down what she wanted to say, Ashera found the words to stitch her sister’s broken heart.

“Wow. Thank you Jude!” Said Ashera, receiving a broad grin from Jude.

A contraction brought beads of sweat to her brow, a perfect target for Lorelai’s drunk rag. She dabbed it away, then vacated her seat, making space for Jude to sit at Ashera’s side.

“Sorry about the bones, I couldn’t find anything else that would work. Demon bones are bigger but… I couldn’t! That’s too- just… ew. The farms haven’t grown anything long enough to weave together and the grass is covered in those tough nettles. Then it kept on breaking-” Said Jude, starting to ramble.

“Jude, it’s fine.” Interrupted Ashera, caressing Jude’s face. “Really, thank you. It’s my fault anyways. I never could have guessed how hard it was to live in Ellin Forest. Who knew that bones of ancient legends are more common than sticks in a forest? Everything is tougher here, trees that dull ten axe heads and boars whose hide can turn a spearpoint. Fingers crossed that Aleyander picks up their strength.” Said Ashera, trying her best to cheer her sister.

Jude deserves a better family than me.

Her excuse seemed to warm and embitter her elder sibling, who left the rib cage cradle beside them. The ideal place for Ashera to place her newborn heart. They were trying to heal the rift between them in their own way, but the wound was fresh, festering with fuzzy envy greens.

“So the day has finally come for our family to grow larger.” Said Jude, sorrow evident in her eyes.

Ashera saw her heart, knew what she was trying to forget. Jude shifted in her seat, the scars across her face and body tugging her skin unnaturally taut. Aftershocks from when the demons had found her own family, a ‘parting gift’ to make sure she would remember what they had done with every future smile.

A memory of how they had hung her child with her husband’s intestines flicked across her face. Darkening the room. Ashera and Tristan had slain the demons, yet that wasn’t enough to purge the memories of how their infernal power kept them alive for days. Locking her baby in the throes of suffocation for at least three days, all the while they ground her husband’s bones into bread and fed it to Jude, promising to let her infant live if Jude finished her meal.

“Jude, I should have asked this sooner… but, will you be Aleyander’s godmother? I want to give him the family you and I never had, like an aunt and a real parents and a godmother. Will you take care of him if-”

“Ashera! Shut your mouth! Don’t even think about that! Besides, where would that leave Lorelai?” Said Jude, giving Ashera a smile that showed her crows feet. “I’ll be too busy, being the best aunt you’ve ever seen.”

They smiled, and Ashera wrapped her older sister in a hug, pulling her closer until she felt like they might squish together into one fat woman. Hours flew by, with Vesper growing ever more terse, shooing away any and all bystanders she could. Then came the moment they all turned against Ashera, the moment she had been looking for-

-and dreading.

Eight hours before her execution, Vesper noticed the problem. After all, she was the midwife, the one who knew how a birth ought to go. When Ashera began to bleed, she thought nothing of it, a little blood was part of life, just as death was an inevitable fraction of joy. But when Ashera did not stop bleeding she grew concerned. When Vesper caught sight of Aleyander’s crown, she ordered the room cleared, an order that muscular Rowan carried out.

Ashera could see it in Vesper’s eyes, the growing terror as the end of her pregnancy loomed.

Something had gone wrong.

Something was seriously wrong with Aleyander.