Shallin’s grasp relaxed. Her involuntarily contracted muscles remained sore as the power surging through her hands faded. Struggling with the bundle in her arms, she wiped away tears. Frain’s arm draped her shoulder in support. She welcomed the hug, but it didn’t make things easier.

“It’s better this way, Shall. You know it is,” he said. She leaned into him. “We don’t do this lightly.”

“The sky hadn’t even touched her yet.” Shallin looked at the child in her arms. No evidence marked her outwardly for the future she might have once had. She had removed the girl’s future, stilling her potential shamanic abilities before they could develop.

“Our job is much simpler if it never does,” he replied. “This sacrifice girds you to fight the real enemies.”

“Somewhere out there, the darkness hungers,” she acknowledged. “I know. I still hate the necessity.”

“We all do, Shall. But these days it’s much harder to find a practicing shaman. You’ve seen what they can do. The stories aren’t exaggerated.”

Culls brought out the worst in her. Feelings. Shalin hated those most of all, the sense of dread rankling in her heart as she stopped the pulse of a child. She preferred facing her enemies in combat and destroying them in a fair contest. Frain was right though; the last shaman they had slain nearly killed her before she got the Grimfield in place. He had turned an entire forest to his defense.

Shallin wrapped the blanket tight to block away the frightening view she held. My hands did this thing. Mine alone. Even as she worked, new scars fluttered up her forearms, pink and pained where the power had struck back. One family’s sacrifice became her gift. Each gift marked her differently, but the webs they formed grew more intricate across her flesh.

“I hope the balance is worth it,” she said, setting the bundled child down. I don’t even know her name.

“Trust in the Light, Shallin. Our service protects the faithful.”

“I can’t help but wonder if it protects us,” she snapped at him. She couldn’t help feeling angry.

“It does. We just have to learn to let this go,” he said.

Frain helped her build a small pyre for the child. Days like today wore her down. The emotional toll of a Cull dwarfed the heavy burden of her physical training. Elerion spoke of the dangers to the environment if the Eluvans ever abandoned the Culls. If missed, a Skytouched could break the world. Or so it was said.

She tried to see it. When she helped a life fade or heard that last gasp, it hurt her too. It’s painless, she reminded herself. At least for them. Shallin rubbed her arms, the burning ache that resided within felt sore to the bone. Flashback always marked a Sentinel. Every Cull, young or old, left wounds either physical or emotional, often both.

The hill they stood on overlooked the child’s small village. Had she been there under other circumstances, Shallin would have admired the view. Instead, she could only ponder what the child’s life could have been like growing up there. She had only met the girl’s parents briefly, a cook and a baker. Would that have been the child’s fate?

Inwardly she seethed. Lady Desdemona had sent her on this Cull as another punishment. Frain wanted her to consider it as another opportunity to prove her worth, but she knew better. Shallin had spoken too glibly again.

If only Father had been there. He would have prevented this. She tried to placate herself, but the words rang hollow. No, he would not. He would have agreed and sent her anyway. Lord Elanreu held her to a higher standard than the other students. In a way, she resented him for being sent on the Cull as well.

She knelt, striking sparks into the pyre until flames lit. Orange tongues lapped the small, shrouded body. Anger mixed with her melancholy as Shallin watched the fire consume it. She loathed the necessity of such a Cull. She watched only briefly then turned away, unwilling to watch longer. She had done her duty under the Light.

War brewed on the eastern border. She had monitored what progress she could, but Lady Desdemona kept things under strict control. That’s where I need to be, she thought, staring towards the horizon. Stopping incursions, not Culling children. Shallin trained for war, a supplement to her status as a Sentinel. Their extra skills seemed less necessary if their hunts only targeted newborns or dotards.

“You’ve gone silent on me, Shall. That’s never a good thing,” Frain said, standing by her side. “Light illumine your thoughts?”

“We waste ourselves doing this,” she said, wiping away a tear. “Desi sure knows how to cut me down to size.”

“She does what she can in your father’s absence.”

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“I don’t approve.”

“I know you don’t. You never have.” He kissed the top of her head. “You pushing the trainees won’t get us out there any faster.”

“You helped.”

Frain laughed. “Why do you think I’m here with you? Desdemona loves spreading punishments.”

“I want to be ready. I want my own Cadre.”

“Yet you applied to the Atrium as well?”

“If she won’t see my worth, perhaps the Council will.” Shallin hugged herself. “I wanted to keep my options open.”

“She won’t let a fully trained Sentinel go. We’re loaners, you and I. We’ll fill a gap when the time comes.”

“I don’t want to fill a gap, Frain. Not if it means we’ve lost another brother or sister.”

“They want to pretend everything’s alright. This far removed, it’s a fantasy they can entertain for now. Leave them to their fictions and focus on what we can do.”

“I’d rather not murder another child. Give me something that can fight back.”

“Think of it as one less enemy to grow up in our backyard to stab us from behind. Being proactive is just as important as being reactive. They know our worth. Our army is out there.”

“They’ll need more of us than they have, and I know we’re getting battered. Two Cadres are not enough.”

Shallin sat down, her back to the flames that had begun to burn slower. Twilight darkened to night, and she counted the warm lights in the homes below them.

“Maybe you do need the break. Get away from Briarthorne. What did you have in mind at the Atrium?”

“Just guard duty. Something simple.”

“That won’t endear you to anyone, you know that. What’s your real reason?”

“She’s a bitch and I need to get out from under her.”

Frain laughed again. “No argument about that from me,” he agreed. “I hear the Council can be just as strict.”

“It will be a different kind of strict.”

“Desdemona won’t let you go without certain stipulations.”

Shallin flung some small pebbles down the hill. “She can stipulate all she wants. I’ll ignore whatever I need to.”

“You’re just like your father,” he said.

“Only in temperament. The rest I got from my mother,” she said. “Or so I’m told.” Shallin didn’t know her parents and didn’t care to. When Lord Elanreu took her in, he became her father. “I only inherited their best qualities.”

“Your mother must’ve been hideous.”

“Fuck you.”

“Let’s head back to the inn,” Frain said, gathering his gear. “It will get chill before long.”

Just another trip, she thought. Frain made it seem so business-like. Shallin preferred his friendship over others, but he could detach himself emotionally. She could not relate to that at all.

“You go. I’ll sit with her until it’s done,” she said.

“It’s a Cull, Shall. Don’t make it anything more than that.”

Too late. “Let me deal with it my way, Frain. You wouldn’t understand.” She cradled her stomach. It cramped much like her hands had earlier. She felt sick.

“I know you hate this,” he said. “Desdemona has her reasons.”

She means to strip everything good from us. Humanity. Servility. Reason. Compassion. There must be more than this. Lessons I’ve learned well already. It only makes me love her less.

“What do you think they are, Frain? Why does she jump at every request for a Cull without giving it a second thought? We came here and did our duty by her word and the word of the local Red.”

“It is what the Light requires of us. It’s not our place to question why that is.”

“That’s what she wants of us. Not the Light.”

Frain sat down next to her. Without even looking she knew he scowled into the distance.

“You’re being petulant and stubborn. That’s why this always falls to us, Shall. The point of a Cull is to learn detachment and you refuse. Why do you make this so difficult? Let it go.”

“Why is it so easy for you?” She drew her knees up to her chest, hugging those too.

“The benefits outweigh the costs, I suppose. Doing this is just as important to our roles as Sentinels. I know you’ve been over this a thousand times. We all struggle to understand why you cannot accept this simple fact.”

“So you’re on her side too,” she said. “Makes total sense.” Shallin wanted to fight. She could feel her rage at his words burning in her ears. “Just go.”

She needed him to get away from her before she did something rash. The pyre had burned low, becoming smoldering charcoal laced with the smell of cooked flesh. Shallin did not want her humanity beholden to her responsibilities, yet here she sat. The weight of duty buried her conscience.

Frain stood back up and gave her one more look. “There’ll be room left for you in the bed,” he said. “When you’re ready to come.”

Shallin watched him leave, his open invitation ignored. She wouldn’t be going back to the inn, not after what she’d done. Sleep would elude her as it had before on Culls like this. She began tracing sigils in the dirt around the pyre, interlocking them until they glowed with power.

Different from a Grimfield, the Grimcell only reacted to the remaining presence of elemental power in the shaman’s body. Tonight, its dim glow faded into nothing almost as soon as she finished. She’d taken the surge, dissipating most of the child’s potential in an instant. Seeing this result confirmed their success.

Is this what I’m meant to be? A cold, numb killer? She hated herself. Shallin began to dig a pit near the pyre as it guttered and smoldered. I can do this. Frain’s right. This is my lesson. She made the hole with her dagger and bare hands, scooping away piles of dirt. It didn’t need to be deep. Until I can do this, I’m not ready. I’m useless to a Cadre. Useless as a Sentinel. I’m holding myself back.

She pushed the remnants of the pyre and ash into the pit when it had cooled. Clouds had rolled in on the far horizon, obscuring the stars and adding to her gloomy mood. Lightning crackled, so similar to what had scarred her flesh earlier in the evening, distantly illuminating the night.

I’ll show Desi what she wants to see. Be what she needs me to be. It’s the only way I can prove myself. Shallin filled in the pit with her boot, tamping it down until only a patch of loose disturbed dirt remained from her efforts that night. The storm reached her. She welcomed the deluge that washed away her tears.