“I see the regret in your eyes, Shallin. I wish I could have dissuaded you from returning to the family.”

Shallin watched the road ahead, uninterested in what Frain said. They traveled in silence until Frain couldn’t stand it anymore. She knew it irked him but didn’t care. She cared about the sadness in Monelle’s eyes and the way Afrid quivered with anger and hatred. Frain’s thoughts matched her concerns, though they both saw things differently.

They were right to feel that way. Who am I to take that feeling from them? We make enemies everywhere we go, and for what?

Her hands remained sore as they gripped the reins of her horse, an unrelenting itch beneath her leather gloves no amount of scratching would relieve. Shallin had paid this price several times before. At nine cycles she had Culled her first child. The process had not differed, though perhaps it physically hurt more back then. She earned her Sentinel status without comprehending the emotional trauma of the event.

Since then, there had just been adults and one teen near her age at the time. Several had lost their sanity and their danger became evident, but the teen struck her as different. Like all their Culls, Shallin hadn’t known him, and the Cadre had to travel for a month to reach him. His fourteen cycles lagged her sixteen at the time, and he scarcely exhibited the mannerisms she expected.

What was his name? It had been Dasil. Dasil’s village had chased him away, afraid of the unpredictable weather that persisted, threatening the farms. He had no training, but she couldn’t fault him for that. The Vigil existed to eradicate shamans. After eliminating them en masse, no educational ecosystem existed to support those who remained. They became more dangerous and unpredictable as a result.

Shallin had filled a support role in the Cadre, though she had faced several shaman before. Lord Elanreu preferred to keep her in reserve, and she chafed at his protectiveness. Being the outsider, they had instead decided to use her to coax him out and befriend him. She approached him like any prior Cull, wary and cautious.

The Cadre had elected to test her. Dasil seemed harmless enough, and they remained in the vicinity of the village, able to respond if she had need. Shallin quickly learned from his parents where he liked to hide. His father often brought him food at his own peril, knowing his son wouldn’t last long in the wild. She remembered thinking it ridiculous that Dasil had been banished yet remained so close.

“It’s not the girl you’re thinking about, is it?” Frain asked. “You can’t remain silent about this. What happened?”

Shallin spurred her horse to a gallop, hoping to get some distance away from him. Naturally he sped up to match her. She groaned.

“I just want to be alone right now, Frain.”

“That’s obvious,” he said. “Talk to me.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” She resented his inquisitive attitude. Though partners, she owed him no explanation. “Leave me alone!” Her next kicks pushed her horse harder as she leaned forward, surging away from her friend.

Frain cared, she knew, but at the moment his insistence grated. He served the Light faithfully, unconstrained by a heavy conscience. Shallin had grasped it once, but Dasil had changed that.

When she found the young shaman, he lived in a small hut he had built himself. His skill impressed her, as the branches of several trees had grown tightly together, shaped by his will. ‘Built’ seemed too primitive to describe it. Dasil had coaxed his environment into a dwelling fit to support his needs.

He was so surprised and nervous. He never suspected my purpose.

He had invited her in. She had smiled. Shallin’s Grimfield did most of her work for her, sapping his connection to the elements. Dasil’s connection failed without his recognition.

Shallin shook her head at the memory. It had seemed so easy then. She had made small-talk for a moment, made herself seem friendly. One quick embrace later and she slid a dagger through his ribs.

His name was Dasil, she repeated to herself. Shock never even registered in his eyes. He just blinked twice then went limp. Lighting tore into her hands and she had dropped him, accepting the price of his Cull.

Why does he enter my thoughts today of all days? Was it his innocence? His acceptance? Did he know what I was going to do? She hadn’t even tried subterfuge. He just let her do it.

I never gave him a second thought since then. I culled Dasil and moved on.

Where have I moved to?

She could ignore the discomfort and physical pain in the aftermath of a Cull. In her youth, it had seemed crippling. Years later, time and experience had trained her to push through it as a minor inconvenience. Her emotions rebelled now. Shallin hadn’t trod this territory before.

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What she thought she understood made less sense the further she continued as a Sentinel. Desi and Elanreu shared a lack of concern for the reports that still made it to her, whether it was her responsibility or not. Between the incursions and her wavering conviction, she felt lost.

“It’s because it was a baby, wasn’t it? You have to look past that, Shall.” Frain again trotted his horse apace with her. She gripped her reins even tighter.

“She didn’t deserve what we did to her. You didn’t see the look her parents gave me. We serve the Light, Frain. Not the Council, and not the Regency.”

Frain snorted. “Funny to hear that from you, Shall. How long do you think you’d last working with the Regents having that kind of attitude?”

“Long enough,” she said. “Maybe they can make it all make sense.”

“Look, I get it,” Frain continued. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. We work in a position of contradictions. It doesn’t all make sense. I don’t think it’s meant to. Sometimes we do things that I consider evil. I won’t lie about that.”

“So you let me do what I did last night so you wouldn’t have to feel that way?” Her petulance carried further than she expected. “Real brave of you.”

“Don’t get indignant on me,” Frain laughed. “We did our duty. You did your duty as Lady Desdemona expected. I couldn’t be prouder.”

“Why should you be? Now there’s one less infant to throw nature’s balance into chaos. All I get to show for it are scars that go deeper than my flesh.”

“Like I said, some things we do are evil. But they serve a common good for the benefit of the Light. I trust they would not have us do what we do if there were no purpose behind it.”

Shallin slowed her horse to a trot. “You make it seem simple and guiltless when you put it that way.”

“It is,” Frain said. “I can’t approach it any other way.”

“What is the real purpose then? Why does the Vigil exist?”

“You’ve known this forever, Shall. Ever since Lord Elanreu took you in.”

She tried relaxing her hands. They refused and her muscles cramped. “Do you ever think it’s a lie? That we’re in opposition to what we stand for so they can keep their hands clean?”

“Of course, Shallin. We’re the lightning rod. We lose our purity so the Light does not.”

“I don’t like it, Frain.”

“You never complained before.”

How do I explain that away? Have I just been naive? This isn’t some random awakening. I’ve never mentioned it before because that’s how things are. I’ve been trained to think one way. She remained quiet for a time, thinking.

Could a correlation exist between how she felt with Dasil, and what she did to the child? She knew an unexpected shift had occurred, some insurmountable change in how she viewed the Eluvan Vigil and her role in it. She wanted answers to questions she could not articulate, and when she tried she only received deflection and doublespeak. Shallin tired of it all.

“I didn’t know I could,” she said simply.

“So what changed?” Frain reined his horse to a halt. Shallin did as well.

“I don’t know.” She looked to the east, imagining the incursions there. “Maybe there’s something bigger at play that we don’t recognize. The child had nothing to do with it.”

“You think we’re being distracted from something?”

Shallin shook her head. “More like misused. You’re just as aware of the attacks as I am, but you never talk about it.”

Frain reached out to grab her arm. “There’s always bigger and bigger plots. I don’t care for all that. Point me and set me loose. If they say Cull, I Cull. If I’m sent to fight, I fight. I work where I’m useful, Shallin. That’s what the Vigil needs of me.

Her eyes darted once more to the east before returning to the ground in front of them. “I think the Light has better things for us to do.”

“When the Light illuminates our path, we shall walk it,” Frain said.

But the Vigil’s path is always in the dark, bereft of Light. We either trail behind or range far ahead, but never where the Light shines. All else is shadow, she thought.

“When do you think that will be?” She asked, not out of mockery but serious concern. “I yearn for the Light to fill me and give sense to our senseless purpose.”

Frain chuckled but looked rueful. “I wish I knew, Shallin.”

The two Sentinels continued plodding down the road in silence after their exchange. She hadn’t gotten much from Frain other than the same feeling of confusion tempered by the certainty that no matter what, their actions served the Light. It had done nothing for her confusion.

Leagues of road stretched before them, showing no sign of town or village for rest or reprieve. Shallin didn’t care much. If she had to sleep beside the road, so be it. Few seemed to travel this way, as evidenced by the overgrown grass and intermittent weeds growing near the ruts in the gravelly dirt path.

She seethed, raging at her circumstances. Blood stained her hands and sin tainted her soul, all in service of the Light. It isn’t right.

Is this maturity? I’ve never questioned things like this before. I cannot continue to serve as I have, but how do I get out? What must I do?

Dasil stood half a hand taller than her, she remembered. His dark brown hair had brushed her cheek with his last gasp. The babe’s hair smelled clean and fresh, just like his had. Scents bring back memories. Memories tied to events and emotions.

His scent, her scent, so close and familiar. That’s why I remembered him. Her gasp and his last smelled the same too. Shallin scratched her hands as she sat astride her horse. Neither of them fought. Neither knew they needed to.

She sniffled, trying not to cry. Frain didn’t need to see that. Shallin chafed at her actions, fumed at the Vigil and the Regency they served, and mourned the innocence of Dasil and the nameless child. More than that, she regretted her subservience and blind devotion.

Frain’s words hadn’t done anything more than push her further away from their cause. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. She felt resigned.

Shallin’s underlying cowardice rebelled against her new-found conviction, stripping her of courage and leaving her astride her horse, lacking faith, and traveling to a home that was home no longer.