Rain poured down on Shallin, dark clouds refusing to diminish despite emptying for two days. Dell struggled along the muddy road as she led him along, unwilling to burden him by riding through the storm. She didn’t want to risk him slipping and breaking a leg.

Her hands itched less, the new scars from the Cull having had time to heal. The itchiness remained, an ever-present reminder of why she’d come this far. To the west, the lands bloomed before her, responding to the rain.

At least something good comes from this storm, she thought. Let the farms be fertile and bountiful. Shallin had no illusions when it came to the necessity of farmland. Briarthorne Estate owned plenty and she’d traveled its fields often. While she hadn’t tended them herself, she knew the work involved provided much of the income her father received.

“I wish he were more reliable,” she said to Dell. “I wouldn’t be wasting my time scrounging out here for answers.” Running her fingers through her sodden black hair, she rued the mess the short curls would make once they dried. “What I need is to be anywhere other than the ass-end of nowhere.”

Lightning blasted into a nearby tree, and Dell yanked free of her reins, fleeing in fear. Thunder slammed into her, knocking Shallin to the ground. Smoke from the struck tree tickled her nose. Despite being soaked, the wood burned freely. Another bolt tore it in two.

Not natural at all, Shallin knew. Dell was right to run. The hairs on her arm prickled and she looked around. Wind accelerated, pelting her with twigs and dirt. Instinct and training kicked in. Shallin calmed, all business as she began to hunt. Shaman.

Removing her gloves, the Grimfield reacted to its presence, sending a thrill through her body. Each scar throbbed, ready to add more to her collection as she crouched, drawing her short sword. I’d rather face this than kill an innocent child, she thought.

Wind surrounded the Grimfield, repelled by the protection she’d unleashed. Let them know I’m here. Maybe they’re smart enough to run. There. She saw a head in the grass, pushed briefly aside by the wind. Spotted, her prey turned to flee. No, you don’t.

She sprinted after, directing the Grimfield to pull the wind past her, moving her faster than her target. It diminished their powers and turned them to aid the Sentinel. Shallin closed the distance with preternatural swiftness, sword at the ready.

The ground split apart as she approached, the shaman creating a gap meant to separate them and create a chance to escape. She leapt over it, marveling at the intelligent purpose shown. Most shamans lost coherence as their power grew. Fighting one meant dealing with chaos as they lashed out.

This one seemed different. When the ground split, spikes shoved outward, stalagmites growing in a farm field. Lightning careened around them, followed by gouts of fire. Wind pushed it along. The shaman ran.

Shallin’s Grimfield deflected most of it, and the rest fizzled upon touching her skin. She could tell this shaman had impressive skill and focus, but the distance between them shrank faster than they could retaliate. Are you one of them? Where do you come from? She hurdled two more spikes as they thrust forth, pushing from them to launch herself even closer.

The shaman stumbled and fell when Shallin landed just in front of him. She smiled. This is more like it. Someone who can fight back. Her adversary had a crazed look in his eyes, unable or unwilling to directly stare at her, his eyes pulled to the sky. Skytouched, as I thought.

He screamed, pulling lightning out of the clouds that flowed down around his hands and lanced toward Shallin. She held her sword before her with both hands, forcing the Grimfield to funnel the lightning to it. Electricity sizzled across the blade, the impact driving her several feet backwards as she concentrated on maintaining her balance.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she asked, feeling the Price empower her. “Have you got any friends out here, or is it just you?”

The shaman looked around frantically, confused. He gestured upwards and pushed. Dirt and large rocks tore free and flew at her, empowered by his fear. She dodged, but not fast enough to feel one of the rocks crunch into her left arm. Shallin screamed.

Time to end this, she thought. The shaman twirled his hands, spinning the air into a tornado. She charged at him, grimly hoping to reach him before he unleashed it from his control. This is why they need to be ended, she knew. When they do not care.

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He released it, the roaring storm drawing from the difference in temperature between the ground and the clouds above. Nature unleashed itself, spearing her with thousands of ice droplets, too many for her to deflect. They cut her skin, and she swore.

“Okay fucker, you’re going down!” She’d thought about sparing him to get answers, but he was too out of control. Shallin needed to rein him in quickly. The ground already rumbled with discontent, and the perversion of the storm would spread far.

Her sword glowed from the energy that had charged it, dripping licks of fire that sizzled in the rain. Shallin saw the terror grow in the shaman’s eyes.She recognized the desperation, the overwhelming need to survive even when sanity had evaporated. No matter how strong the instinct for preservation, it always crumbled when facing a Sentinel.

She fell on him, an overwhelming force of disruption. The Grimfield squelched his powers as it enveloped him, and he wailed, collapsing to his knees. Shallin couldn’t tell if he’d lost the nerve or if the tremors had knocked him down. Wind howled about them, and she gave him one moment of mercy.

“Why?” She asked him. He cowered at her feet, staring up past her to the sky above. He inhaled to yell, and she smelled the ozone permeating the air around her. He can’t do this! Lightning arced out of the sky as she slammed her sword through his chest, forcing it into the dirt behind him.

Unrelenting power grounded itself, burning a hole through the shaman’s body and reverberating through her hands, etching new scars to join the old. Lightning sheeted down upon her, buffeting her with concussive blasts of thunderous peals. Her Grimfield pulled what it could into the sword to dissipate it into the earth.

Her sword blazed with heat as the energy continued to flow through her and it. Shallin had never experienced a price like this before. Something hungered in the ground below, turning her into a conduit to suck energy from the storm above. She couldn’t release the weapon.

What in the Light is going on? No rogue shaman had ever caused this to happen, not in her experience. Is this what happens without a full Cadre? She hadn’t given any consideration to the fact that she was alone to confront this shaman. You idiot. This is why. To dampen the Blowback.

She screamed, holding on to the sword with all her might, wielding her Grimfield as it fluctuated under the torrent of power surging around her. Shallin felt it buckling. She refused to let it fail, but her will could only last for so long. Already, the damage to her left arm caused her grip to loosen. Power etched its way past her arms, cutting into her chest as she grappled tenaciously.

Shallin watched the shaman’s body wither, consumed by the power she had directed through him. Better him than me, she thought, unsure how long it would be before it came for her. The ground shook violently, filling her ears with an unnatural shriek as rock churned around her, grinding like a massive millstone but flowing like a river.

The rain ceased and the skies cleared, the storm’s energy spent in moments. Shallin let her sword go, bits of metal slag having fallen to the ground beneath it. Only charred, shattered bones remained of the shaman.

“That’s a lesson in stupidity, make no mistake,” she muttered to herself. “Who were you?”

Shallin knelt, picking up the shaman’s jawless skull from the dust and brushing it off. “Light bring you peace,” she said, sitting on a nearby rock that had sunk partway into the liquified ground during the torrent of power. “It was you or me.”

Earthquakes continued to rumble, and she contented herself to remain there, cradling the man’s skull. Shallin could feel her Grimfield responding as the elements restored themselves to the natural order. Her arms and chest throbbed, and she feared what she might see the next time she bathed. She just hurt too damned much.

“What a merry, quick chase that was,” she said. “Light, I wonder where Dell got off to in all this.” She wouldn’t waste time looking for him. He would return when he was ready. Nature’s disarray terrified and confused animals, who had a different attunement to their environment than people. Sentinels rarely took their mounts to a Cull for that reason. No amount of training a horse could prepare them.

“Hell, even I still don’t feel prepared, and this is all I train for,” she muttered. “I don’t blame you, buddy. Wherever you are.”

“Ah, but you’re the enigma here,” she continued, talking to the skull. “I didn’t even see you. Why attack me? Did you know what I was?” She set it down and poked at the other remains, pushing aside ribs and a clavicle. Running her fingers through the ash, she found a metal disc.

Wiping it off on her trousers, she saw it had the same swirl design she’d seen present in the homes on the outskirts of Pellago. Thick at the outer edges, it gradually diminished inward to a tapered point at the center. “Not a coincidence,” she noted. “But I still don’t know what you represent.” She tucked it away. “Ahh,” she sighed. “Now what?”

The devastation impressed her. In moments the shaman had obliterated large portions of farmland. Each new rock formation jutting from the ground told the tale, just as it always did. Nothing would grow there ever again. She stooped to pick up the skull once more.

“I’d bury the rest of you, but I haven’t got anything for that,” she said. “You’ll just have to make do. I wish you hadn’t forced me to do this.” Something caught her attention as she turned it in her hands. White scratches glistened through the blackened, charred patina. She looked closer.

The same swirl from the medallion repeated itself, inscribed inside and outside the skull, set deep in the bone. She rubbed at the char, smudging it away to fresh bone just to confirm it. “That’s not right. How’d they get there?” The more she wiped, the more she found, covering every bit she could see.

On a whim, she knelt and pulled one of the man’s clavicles from the ash. It proved no different, with the same pattern etched deep into the bone. Every remaining piece she examined showed the same thing. Flabbergasted, she stood, waiting for another aftershock to subside.

“Father needs to see this,” she said. “I don’t know what this is, but this wasn’t a normal shaman.” In the distance, she saw Dell approaching. He brought companions, and she smiled. Somehow, he’d found Frain. Shallin had a lot of explaining to do.