Before the Rejoining

"What do you want?" Serkukan groaned.

Jirtu stood in the darkness across from him. A strike of lightning shook the place, though Jirtu's mock-postulation did not falter.

Finally, he laughed: "Stay with the boy. So long as he survives, he'll be captured by the Hunters after your skirmish in the north. They'll take him to Azar'kara under the care of council member Akvum Jirhali."

"You intend to let the council toy with me?" he growled.

"Don't be stupid—I intend to scoop you up myself."

Serkukan paused. "You'd take me from Azar'kara… and turn me into one of your devices?"

"Of course, Serkukan."

The red figure did not move for a moment, then a laugh, like a man possessed, screeched out from his armor. The suit nearly buckled over in his fit of humor, while Jirtu began to chuckle along with him.

Finally, amidst their laughter, Jirtu said "And so shall we continue our dance of death evermore."

X

The door to a small and cozy room opened with a gentle squeak. A blonde topknot man with big, rounded spectacles stepped in with a smile. “Hello. You're Miriam?”

Caramel-skinned, jagged-haired Miriam nodded from the blue sofa. She stood politely, placed her hands before herself in her lap.

“Oh no, please sit. You came all the way here after what you've been through, I hardly think anyone in the world is more deserving of a rest. I've already arranged for a carriage to take you back when we’re concluded. You're from Cromer?”

Miriam sat again anxiously, adjusted her Casvian dress to sit comfortably. “Yes. Me and my sister live there.”

The man passed from behind her sofa and carefully sat down in the one opposite, straightened his white-blue robes with his palm. “Such a long way. It shows such dedication that you would make pilgrimage to Freiya’kara on the off-chance that we recruit you.”

“Well, I—”

“My name is Ivalié, by the way.” He smiled. “This is my home. We welcome you with open arms.”

She blushed at his remark. “I was recommended by Lambert—”

“Oh, yes.” Ivalié sat back. He raised his hand and a packet of notes seemed to materialize within from out of thin air. He flipped through him—Miriam thought she saw his eyes almost literally light up at the information within. “Honorary Hunter Lambert. He's a good man. Smart, quick-witted. If he recommends you, I hardly see a good reason to turn you away.”

Miriam nodded, did her best to restrain her smile.

“You were in Cromer when…?” His eyes flitted up to her.

Her smile immediately died. She placed her hands atop each other and tensed up. “I was. I watched Cedric Castelbre kill them. It was sickening. I wanted nothing more than to cut him down myself… and after Tor…”

Ivalié raised his brows. “A lover, perhaps?”

Miriam opened her mouth wordlessly.

“No matter.” He flipped the pamphlet closed. It dissipated again into magic. “I've no reason not to consider you, quite on his word alone. Your files are promising, your swordsmanship is allegedly extremely proficient. Are you magically inclined?”

“No, sir. But my sister is. She's skilled with runes and traps, mostly.”

“Ah, I see. That's quite impressive, not many magi have a taste for such patient designs anymore—everyone is brazen and violent now, no reliance on guerilla tactics or forethought. She'll make a fine Hunter one day, I'm sure.”

Miriam seemed to hesitate, her face contorted a few different ways as she struggled to manage some words. “Actually…”

“Hmm?”

After a deep breath, she began: “I want you to consider my sister instead of me. Marisol, she… she has a long and bright future ahead of her. I've already become a knight captain, I've already lived out most of the average span of my career. I know my life expectancy teeters off with every passing day I remain against the Sylvet, I know that my way of doing things isn't quite so malleable now. But Marisol… she would thrive in a place where she's part of a team, part of a society. She's young enough to adapt, positive enough—she hasn't seen such horrors that I've seen. I know they're unavoidable, so… I'd like her to be prepared.”

Ivalié listened patiently, nodded his head at several truthful remarks. When she finally finished, he said “...Such selflessness. Such an uncouth suggestion, I can't imagine you truly thought it would get you much farther than this interview.”

Miriam smiled meekly, looked at the carpet between them. “That's okay. I'd sacrifice this opportunity for the chance that my sister might have it instead. She's the reason I continue on… I need to know she'll be taken care of when my career takes me away from her.”

“Despite the falling odds, you intend to stay a knight captain?”

“I do. I have a duty, I have a purpose. I saved lives in Cromer by rallying my own men away from the fight, and I intend to do it again. If I could give my own life to save another, I wouldn't hesitate.”

His eyes turned dark. “What about the many men who fell to Serkukan?”

“Serku…?”

“Ah—I meant Cedric. My apologies.”

Marisol looked down, spent a long moment thinking about why. Why had she found it so difficult to retaliate? That unseen horror, that thing which slaughtered highly trained men like they were ants, laid waste to more than a dozen squadrons with only his bare hands and a sword which splintered into pieces during his relentless onslaught… Was it fear? Was she afraid of facing that unknown, overpotent magic alone, without her own soldiers to back her up? Was she afraid of facing retaliation from Salvatore for superceding command of his own lackluster squadrons, disobeying his direct order to stay away from the thing?

…Or was she just afraid of never being able to see her sister, Marisol, ever again?

“I…” she began, but just then—

Knock knock.

They both turned to the door. Ivalié asked, “Yes?”

A muffled voice responded, “Sir, Faunia Vleren is here about her transfer.”

He stood, straightened his robe again. “Ah, yes. Send her in. We were just about finished up here anyway.”

The door opened. Miriam gasped as the famous Silver Sword of Freiya’kara—a beautiful half-elven woman with shimmering silver hair, a perfectly angled jaw, and bright eyes that shimmered like ice—entered the room. Even her figure beneath the steel armor was exceptionally slim, and in the areas where the steel armor revealed the black clothes underneath, the definition of her muscles was apparent. She looked exactly how Miriam had always imagined her from the stories she'd heard out of the bardic songs in taverns.

Faunia made a Hunter-salute, fist at her chest and her palm atop it like holding a sword pointed downward. “Ivalié.”

“At ease, Faunia.” He meandered over toward her. “Your carriage to Azar’kara has a planned detour in Cromer, you can spend a day visiting family and collecting any possessions you’ve been missing.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ivalié smiled back to Miriam. “This is your new commander, Miriam. Meet Faunia Vleren. Faunia Vleren, Miriam Ruin.”

“Ah—” Miriam stammered, awkwardly fell into Hunter-salute in return. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you—but, does this mean…?”

Ivalié nodded. “Welcome to the Hunters of Kylinstrom, Miriam.”

Pure elation swelled in her mind. Then she remembered: “Oh, and—”

“Please extend the same warm welcome to your sister for me.”

“Then that means…?”

“Yes,” he laughed, “you're both in. Welcome.”

Miriam could no longer hold back her smile, nor her tears. She forced out the words: “Thank you sir…!”

“Mari!” Miriam threw open the door to their shabby home in Cromer. Their home was on the lower level of the city, close to the front gate—one of the more inexpensive living quarters. With the threat of siege everpresent in their minds, homes which were more accessible to intruders were no luxury to possess except to renters who could hike up the prices, or proactive knights who could use the property as an outpost to maintain watch over their city.

Marisol and Miriam possessed such a place only out of convenience; it had been all they could afford when they arrived from the distant island of Ruin, spending every last cent left by their late parents just to have the convenience of rent-free living. Getting their hands on food had been the greater challenge.

The place they purchased, one of very few within their budget, was very much a run-down shack, messy no matter how much they cleaned, moldy throughout all of the floorboards, damp no matter how many planks of wood and inexpensive tarps they adhered to their collapsing roof. The place smelled like dirty feet on a good day, and wet, infested dog on a bad day.

Marisol was asleep in a plain black camisole on the dark sofa against the wall, perhaps the nicest piece of furniture they owned. It was surrounded by a matted carpet and a couple of mismatched wooden chairs, all pointed at a big, dingy, unintentionally stained window.

Miriam smiled, gently shut the door, and stealthily approached the sofa. She knelt down, gently stroked her sister's hair. “Wake up, you lazy girl.”

Marisol’s one eye flitted open. Then the second one followed. She gently began to sit up with a groan, rubbed her palm against her eye. “...What time is it?”

“Late. And someone was supposed to have cooked by now.” She smiled sarcastically.

“Mm… I rarely see you so excited…” Marisol groaned and looked around the room. Her typical black bob haircut was in a frenzy, greasy and sticking up all over the place.

“I guess since you slept in so late, we'll have to go out somewhere for dinner. Maybe somewhere nice for once?”

“We can't afford that…”

Miriam smiled. “What if I told you that we could?”

Marisol sniffed, stared at her sister with a plain expression, waiting for the explanation.

“Ivalié of Kasian’s Twelve welcomes you…” She smiled. “...to the Hunters of Kylinstrom!” Miriam threw her hands up menacingly, then threw them down upon Marisol in a flurry of tickling.

“Hey, stop, stop!” she laughed uncontrollably.

“I earned this! After what I just did for you—for us.”

Marisol could not reply except to laugh.

Miriam stopped her attack quickly and gave Marisol a caring noogie atop her head. The noogie quickly transformed into a hug, and she held her sister very tight, rested her chin atop her head. “I love you, Mari.”

Marisol smiled brightly. “And I love you. How did you even pull it off?”

She snuggled her sister tight and warm. “I only told Ivalié the truth. By the end of this week, me and you will be real Hunters of Kylinstrom…”

“In Freiya?”

Miriam held her tighter. “In Azar’kara…”

X

It was only a couple of days later when Miriam and Marisol climbed down from the back of the hooded carriage which had escorted them past Siln. They'd brought with them only the few possessions they had: their clothes, their swords, and the few pieces of elvish jewelry left for them by their mother.

And to think—they'd ridden behind the auspicious Faunia Vleren the whole way there. Marisol and Miriam were both giddy with the thought.

Faunia Vleren climbed out of her own silvery carriage into the brisk wintery air. She used her forearm to obscure the sun for a moment, just to gaze up at the bronze pyramid standing before them all. Then she turned to the two girls. “You ready?”

Marisol stepped forward and performed her own practiced and perfected Hunter-salute. “Faunia Vleren, it's so good to meet you! We've always heard the stories, about you and the frost dragons, and how you single-handedly kept the Sylvet out of Freiya!”

Miriam smirked slightly, content to fall back into her typical demeanor while Marisol indulged in excitement.

Faunia gently gestured for Marisol to relax, a generous smile on her face. “I promise you, none of that was as exciting as you make it sound.”

Marisol still beamed. Miriam smiled politely.

“Come on. Akvum is waiting.”

Miriam’s eyes widened. “Akvum Jirhali?”

Faunia nodded.

That's two members of Kasian’s Twelve in a week… I'm probably in such a small fraction of the population who've been so lucky.

“You know him?” asked Marisol as they began up the huge steps toward the plateau.

“I know of him. He's the man who founded the Hunters. He's one of the last alisars, too. An azar, it means cat in old Huntish.”

Faunia glanced back. “You're very knowledgeable.”

“I spent every waking moment after our parents passed studying and learning as much as I could. I guess I thought it I could get us off the island if I worked hard enough.”

“And?”

Miriam smiled. “And here I am. I became somewhat of a historian on Ruin. Because I knew of past events and how not to repeat our greatest follies, they entrusted me with governing our colony for a time.”

Faunia turned her smile upon Marisol. “You must be very proud of your sister.”

The younger girl smiled. “I am.”

Miriam interjected, “Mari is something of a prodigy too. She picked up ancient runes when she was eight, learned to use them for hunting, for scavenging, and for divining. Between the two of us, we really did keep our colony afloat for almost five years—I was only fifteen by the time our colony dissolved. Mari was thirteen.”

There was a brief respite from conversing. Then Faunia said, “Can I ask what happened to them?”

Marisol answered: “They disbanded. We dissolved into three of the bigger factions nearby us, our land divided evenly amongst them. We were gifted a fishing ship by the people.”

“...And we used it to escape.” punctuated Miriam.

Faunia smiled back, “We're glad to have you here.” Then she climbed up the last great step. She immediately turned and saluted. “Akvum, sir.”

Miriam and Marisol exchanged a glance. “Ready?”

“I am.”

“...Let's do this.”

And they stepped atop the plateau.

X

“GRAAAAAAAAH!” howled a man within his dark cell. He strained his neck each way, stretched against his shackles, desperately tried to break them with all of his strength. “FUCKING HUMAN FLESH!”

He lifted the seat up, slammed it back down, BANG!

Three more times, BANG, BANG, BANG!

“FUCKING CASTELBRE! I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING EYES OUT WHEN I'M DONE WITH—”

His eyes narrowed toward the door. It was silent, but…

Shreeeeeeee…

The outer door to his “airlocked” chamber hissed open. He grinned wildly, like an animal.

“Here he is,” said Akvum, that big white cat, as he led the two of them into the room.

The possessed boy hissed, “Akvum! So good to see you! And I see you've brought Rykaedi with you.” His smile faded at the mention of her. Even before she stepped in, the pungent aroma of lavender used to mask the smell of her rotting flesh was overpowering. In stepped the visage of Cassandra, Akvum’s would-be lover—before she appropriated that hideous figure for her own!

“Algirak!” That pale-skinned whore of a woman couldn't restrain her thin smile, her lips as purple as her dress. “Now, what are you doing in such an unseemly body?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” he hissed in reply.

Then entered the third figure; big and bulky, his armor half black and half white, an expression of pure disdain etched permanently into his square face…

“Kogar! My greatest mortal ally. I remember when we first met like it was yesterday!”

Kogar didn't speak to him. He looked to Rykaedi, “Does he have it?”

After a long moment, she said “No. He doesn't. Akvum?”

“Have what? What do I—” Algirak’s eyes went wide when Akvum produced the black blade Grivonym. “No… you can't mean to, you don't intend—”

Kogar took the blade and stepped forward with raw aggression. He plunged it deep into the body which Algirak inhabited. The body gasped, quivered and quaked… then fell limp.

Kogar withdrew the blade. The black half of his armor seemed to swell and glow. “We're done here,” he said, and sauntered out of the room.

Akvum and Rykaedi exchanged a glance—Rykaedi smiled. Akvum did not.

“We thank you for your hospitality!” Rykaedi shouted behind her as she walked alongside Kogar. Hunters all across the hallway stared at them perplexed—two members of the Twelve, here? What was the occasion? It was common knowledge that the Twelve kept to themselves in hiding; very few people had ever witnessed what most of them really looked like besides a few decades-old statues which had all collapsed by this time.

Akvum stood in the doorway which led to the dungeons, grimaced after them.

Suddenly, a voice broke his trance: “Akvum, sir.”

“Ah—Faunia.” He looked down at her.

“Sorry to interrupt—was that Okella and Kogar?”

He managed a limp smile. “That's… Rykaedi and Kogar. You were close. I'm impressed.”

“Can I ask what they were here for?”

“To see that prisoner, Castelbre.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That's the very place I'm off to now. Did they have any notes, before I go in?”

“...No. Just… be careful.”

“Don't worry—the last time someone escaped Azar'kara was two-hundred years ago.” she said, half in jest, and squeezed past him toward the dungeons.

“I suppose you're right,” he grumbled. But after a long pause, he turned around and followed her closely.

X

“Things went well with the boy, then?” asked the black-robed figure waiting outside. His hood was pulled down low to obscure his face.

Rykaedi smiled when she exited from the small, squarish building atop the plateau. “Things went very well.” And she admired Kogar’s armor for a moment.

“Good. Then nothing else is required of us, here.” said Jirtu. He looked down to one of his glowing rings, then up to the sky.

“Everyone felt that pulse on the ley…” admired Kogar. “I’m surprised Hemah and Tartys did not make an inquisitive appearance.”

“They did.” said Rykaedi. “Just not to you.”

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He glared at her smug expression. That only intensified her emotion. He said, “I’m off to Harth.”

Rykaedi waved sardonically. “Have fun! See you when you get home!”

Kogar only replied with one more glare before he shot off into the sky.

“Oh, how I’ve missed him…” She stared off longingly after him before turning her smirk upon Jirtu. “Now that he’s gone, we’ve got some work to do in finding Dyosius.”

“Before Akvum finds it.” Jirtu agreed.

“Skalla?” bellowed Rykaedi at the edge of the plateau.

The girl inhabiting Liara’s body began to emerge with her coppery hair, her drab, lifeless expression.

“Ah, good! Glad you could make it. You wouldn’t mind helping us out a tad, would you?”

She reached the top of the platform and stood there, unmoving. No reply came from her.

“I’ll throw in a treat—perhaps a nicer body?”

“I’ll pass.” she said.

“Well—is there something in particular you’d like?” Rykaedi began forward.

“I… am curious to know how it feels to be alive. To eat, to sleep… that sort of thing.” she said in monotone.

Rykaedi smiled a sinister, evil smile. She placed her cold hands upon Liara’s cheeks, pulled her head up to face her. “Very well. As soon as you find us Dyosius, we’ll make your dreams a reality.”

Skalla pulled away from Rykaedi. She nodded then turned away, began back down the pyramid.

Rykaedi turned to Jirtu with her victory visible on her lips

“What a waste of time…” he sighed, exasperated.

“We set up the wild goose chase… then we take Dyosius for ourselves. No need to bicker with the rest of the Twelve over it.”

“Though the only one who would give us a hassle is Kogar… I’ve no clue why you keep that psychopath around.”

“He’s got his uses.”

“Uh-huh.” Jirtu rolled his eyes.

“I don’t suppose I can trust you to relay information toward Dyosius once you find it?”

Jirtu smiled coyly.

“I didn’t think so.” She returned the smile. “Tell those Pit-Divers I said hello.”

“Of course,” said Jirtu, and fell into a deep bow toward Rykaedi.

She gave him one last suspicious side-eye. Then her bony wings sprouted and stretched from her back, and she gently took off into the sky.

Jirtu smirked after her for a very long period of time. Once he was sure he couldn’t see her anymore, even with his Etherian-augmented eyes, he turned right back toward Azar’kara’s entrance, let himself right back into the place, smiling all the while…

Two Months Later

Cedric Castelbre walked into Siln Forest a day after a snowstorm with five other Hunters of Kylinstrom on a training mission, all of them in matching bronze-trimmed armors. There was Atrelia, the white-haired girl who never stopped arguing with the fat-headed and short Gysm, the tan-skinned Marisol and her taller sister Miriam, and the copper-robed Jarus, who spoke only in short, lifeless spurts.

Cedric considered that there were really six of them in tow with him, as the pale silhouette of Faunia Vleren was unmistakable in his peripheral.

Akvum’s lapdog. Surely she knows she’s not concealing much?

Then he pulled at the collar of his coppery hunter armor, a stark contrast to the silver-trimmed armor Faunia Vleren wore even now. This armor, so uncomfortable…

‘What made you join the Hunters?’ Marisol had asked when they met. Perhaps she really meant ‘how were you allowed in? You look homeless.’

Cedric scowled. Though, he had no particular understanding of how someone like Gysm had been allowed in, either; loud, abrasive, stupid as a log… He fit the bill for the stereotypical Hunter exactly.

As far as her question—he didn't know how to answer. And just as had happened back then, the question seemed to evaporate from his mind like he'd never wondered it at all.

Marisol suddenly stopped and grasped her head. The rest of the group turned their attention to her. The girl Atrelia asked, “Are you okay?”

Cedric felt the leylines shifting. Something was happening, somewhere nearby. “It’s the eastern lines…” he muttered.

"It's… I can feel…" Marisol stammered.

Gysm turned, "Mari, what's wrong?"

"An ogre. He's…" She smiled. "He’s just walked into my trap."

Barely two minutes later, they rushed upon another clearing back to the east, toward Azar’kara. Gysm charged in first with his hammer brandished brazenly, Atrelia followed with her sword in her hand, and Miriam came third with just a book held close to her chest.

Cedric couldn’t seem to resist glancing back not only at Faunia now, but at Jarus, who had taken a similarly distant position, making eye-contact with Cedric every time he turned around.

"I think it's clear…" Marisol said. She flipped open her book.

"It's clear." Cedric reaffirmed.

Gysm pushed some brambles aside with his hammer, began a hearty cheer when he saw the big, brutish ogre stuck in place with magicked roots wrapped around his legs.

Atrelia and Miriam exchanged a smile, though did their best to maintain their composure.

Marisol gave a huge grin like she had won some competition. But as she wandered closer, Gysm manuevered his hammer before her.

"Much too close for a mage, no?"

"I need to check my hex, please. He won't be able to strike me while this spell is in place, anyway."

“If it’s all set up right…” Cedric murmured. He glanced again at Jarus—the damn fool was looking around like he didn’t know a thing. Faunia, too, tucked herself behind a tree as though it did anything at all in her favor.

Still, Marisol exercised caution as she approached and reached for a small object on the ground. A dark rock. At first insignificant, in her hands it took on the glowing green light in the outline of a flower. Then she turned it over to reveal the unglowing chalk underneath.

"The explosive didn't take. I probably didn't give enough red powder."

"Explosive? Are you trying to set the forest on fire!?" Gysm blurted out.

"No, it's a special kind of hex. It quenches the fire after the initial blast. Shrapnel, too. The only ones in danger would be those within ten feet of the initial cast."

"Like this one!" Gysm poked the glowering ogre with his hammer. "But… who kills him now?"

She hesitated. "It somehow feels… inhumane."

Cedric approached. "Is it more or less humane than exploding him?"

"Well, fair enough."

"If you'd rather not, I'll do it." He patted the club at his hip.

"I don't want to make you—"

"It's nothing new to me. I mean, I used to hunt, y'know. Animals."

Gysm still held his hammer in his hands, shaking uneasily. "No. I'll… I need to prove I'm…"

Oh, brother… Cedric rolled his eyes.

“Okay. Okay, you do it.” said the fat-headed, lowering his hammer.

Cedric pulled his small club off his hip, spun it around to get a feel for the weight.

Better than nothing.

He lifted it up high.

Kck, kck, kck, kck…!

A sound like rapid crunching, a sprint…

“Hey, wait!” shouted Miriam. Jarus had a long dagger in his hand, sprinted forward with a desperation in his gaze.

Faunia leapt out from her hiding place.

But between Jarus and Cedric dropped another figure from above—Akvum’s black-haired second-in-command, Vyncis, blindfolded as part of his golden-eye ritual. He landed in the snow with a long scimitar in each hand, spread his arms wide and spread his footing carefully. “Akvum warned me we might have an intruder.”

Marisol gasped, “An intruder?”

Gysm gaped.

“Who are you working for?”

Jarus scoffed, spun the dagger in his hand. He rushed the blade for Vyncis’ side. “My business is none of your concern!”

Vyncis twirled the scimitars and caught the dagger between them. He flicked—the small weapon was discarded from Jarus’ hand.

But then Jarus’ hand came up with another, longer blade, seemingly from out of nowhere. He slid it against the scimitars and stepped in close.

Vyncis growled.

Cedric stepped back in surprise. His heart raced at the sudden attack. Then, a voice rattled his mind—

“Agh! S—Serkukan!? I didn’t know you were still here.”

Vyncis glanced back at Cedric anxiously. Jarus took the opportunity to ram the tip of his blade into the man’s side. He gasped out.

“Who? Who’s here!?”

And to answer his question, complete dread filled his body and mind. It felt as though the world went black all around him. His breath came out cold: “No…”

…The stone lit up in Marisol’s hand. “That's odd…”

Cedric looked over. His whole body was tense and shaking.

“It’s supposed to be red, not purple…”

“Drop it…” Cedric mumbled.

The whole group looked up at him.

Vyncis kicked Jarus away. He whistled loudly, and four Hunters fell from the trees in reply. “I thought I could handle him…” he wheezed, clutching his bloody side as he fell to a knee.

The four white-robed Hunters slammed down with their incantations already blurting from their mouths. The instant their hands struck the snow, giant ethereal chains burst out from each of them, wrapped around where Jarus stood.

…But they didn’t touch him. He began to cackle.

“Drop the stone!” Cedric screamed.

Miriam immediately threw her sword to the ground, sprinted at Marisol as hard as she could.

Marisol had locked up—the shock of seeing Vyncis and Jarus fighting, of hearing that an intruder was in their midst, had frozen her with fear. “Oof—!” she exclaimed when Miriam ripped the rock from her hand, shoved her away. “Miriam!”

Miriam threw herself at the ground atop the rock, tears in her eyes as she glanced back to Marisol. “...I love you.”

BTOOOOOOOOM!

The purple explosion rattled the clearing, made all of their ears ring in sync.

Gysm stumbled and clutched his head.

Marisol screamed out in total agony.

Then came the voice from above. Cedric grit his teeth as she shouted, “I knew you’d find him for me, Jirtu!”

“...Jirtu?” Cedric glanced over at Jarus. His fists began to shake. “...Jirtu!”

Then they all looked up as a pale skinned woman hovered down, playfully pushing her black and violet dress down as if to cover herself. She smiled evilly, cackled with delight. “So sorry to spoil the fun, everyone! There’s something here which needs returning!”

Cedric summoned his black Sylvet shortsword. He desperately pulled, drew upon Serkukan’s energy… It only caused his mind to ache; the hex put in place by the Hunters had completely debilitated his Etherian power.

Rykaedi landed between them all. She grinned. “Well? This is your cue to bow.”

Gysm howled, “GRAAAAAAAH!” as he charged with his hammer aloft.

Rykaedi smiled at him. Just as he came within range, reeled back his hammer… he fell dead to the snow.

No…!

Atrelia drew her sword.

“Stop! She’s just going to kill you!”

Atrelia scowled back at him. “A Hunter never stops. Not until they're dead or the fight is over…!”

She charged forward. There were tears running down her cheeks already.

Rykaedi began to charge up a bolt of energy within her palm…

And then a big hand landed on Atrelia’s shoulder, pushed her back. She stopped, stared in awe as Akvum passed by her. He drew his own oversized scimitar. “Rykaedi…”

“Oh, Akvum! How delightful to see you!”

“Why are you here?”

She shrugged. “I discovered your little lie. The punishment needs fit the crime, does it not?”

“What lie?”

She pointed as Cedric with a big, ugly grin. “That lie! Dyosius is within the boy!”

“It's not ready!” he protested. “If you take it now, it'll shatter! It needs more time!”

“Unfortunately, time is not something my race has a particular surplus of.” She swept her pointed finger up, craned it for Cedric to approach—his legs followed her command, even as his mind did not, even as his upper body turned and resisted, desperately tried to turn himself around.

No! Serkukan! Serkukan, turn me around!

Cedric looked up desperately.

Akvum said, “Rykaedi, you'll destroy us all if you do this!”

She scoffed. “I know what I'm doing better than you do.”

“Akvum!” shouted Cedric. “Release the hex! You have to, or else—”

“...No!” howled the big cat. He rushed at Rykaedi.

“AKVUM!” Cedric screamed.

Jirtu stood in a mess of blood where the other four Hunters had once been. He wiped his hands clean of the mess he'd made. “What a damn shame—I wasn't going to touch the twice-ley so I wouldn't have to deal with this mess, Rykaedi.”

But just as he stepped forward—his own opponent presented herself from behind the trees. Faunia Vleren’s rapier stabbed through the air at him as she dashed forward, just barely missed.

“Oho? You watch me slaughter four of your allies single-handedly and still you want to play?”

Faunia brandished her rapier before herself. “Atrelia is right: we fight until there's no more fight left.”

“Then bring your fight, girl!” His hands lit up with burning magic. “Let's see how fast that will of yours evaporates!”

Akvum slammed his big scimitar down for Rykaedi’s throat. Her bone wings lunged out and caught the blade. “Come, now, what would Kogar say if he knew there was infighting between us?”

“I'll kill you. All he'll find out is that I'm the one who supped your energy. And I swear to you—I’ll sooner burn it out than inherit it!”

She smirked. “Cute. But I'm only here for the boy.”

Cedric’s march forward had brought him almost within reach.

Akvum grit his teeth. He retracted his blade, stabbed it forward—strike… true!

And as if by magic, his scimitar slammed home within her flesh. Rykaedi raised her eyebrows. Akvum pushed the blade as deep as it would go, all the way to the hilt.

Then she chortled. The strain left Akvum’s face in favor of shock.

“That was optimistic! But no, no, I liked it! Are you getting light-headed? All that esera, just for that?”

Then Cedric’s march stopped, just a step away. Rykaedi, her sly grin still plastered to her face, reached over and simply pressed her fingers to his forehead.

Cedric gasped out at first—then he broke into a deafening scream. His mind seared, his head felt liable to shatter and explode. The platinum crystal manifested… and then it was gone.

Cedric fell limp into the snow. His eyes were wide, his mind was vacant.

Akvum whimpered slightly, looked at Rykaedi in horror.

Her own eyes flared platinum, echoed every color of the rainbow. She placed two fingers against Akvum’s hilt, slid away from his impaled blade as though it were an inconvenience more than anything. “I'll have to call our playdate there, love.”

He gnashed his fangs. Not Dyosius… she didn't get Dyosius!

He felt the twice-ley churn. Then he turned anxiously back toward Faunia and Jirtu.

Fwsh fwsh fwsh fwsh!

Faunia made plentiful jabs of her blade in rapid succession.

It was Jirtu who suddenly wore the shocked expression between them: every single attack had pierced his robes, dug into his flesh. A dark stain was quickly spreading out over his torso. “I… I thought…”

He looked up to Akvum, some distance away. The big cat shut his gaping mouth as if his anxiety had paid off—as if he'd won.

And Jirtu fell to the ground.

Faunia pushed his head into the snow, climbed atop him, wrangled his arms behind his back and compressed them with her knee. “I need a hex mage over here!” she shouted, but to no avail. The four closest had been slain already. Vyncis was on his knees, the snow was crimson around him.

“...Vyncis!” she exclaimed. “Vyncis, over here! Please!”

His face was pale. He grasped the back of his blindfold, made a limp attempt to remove it from his face. When he finally got it, Faunia could see the gold stains in his eyes like spilled watercolors, the still-healing result of the injections he'd received.

Faunia took a big silvery knife from the side of her leg. She lifted it up high. “In case there's no hex… execute…”

The blade shook in her hand. She swallowed her fear, forced down her anxiety.

And then Jirtu’s eyes opened.

She plunged the dagger down.

KNCK!

The blade of the knife flew off, separated from the hilt. The hilt stayed locked within her hand, hovering there in place above his head as though blocked by an invisible barrier. Even as she pushed down with both hands with the full weight of her body, his shield was impenetrable.

Jirtu launched on a sudden gust of wind, slid out from beneath her so that she suddenly dropped into the snow.

“Damn you, Akvum…” he muttered as he struggled to stand. “You and your damn Etherians…”

Etherians? Faunia wondered. What in the Pit is an…

A black and violet rift opened up behind Jirtu. He scowled at Faunia one last time before he fell backwards into it. And the rift closed behind him.

“Dammit!” she screamed, threw her hilt into the snow. “Fuck!”

And Faunia spun back around to the rest of the battle. Gysm lay dead nearby the splattered corpse of Miriam. Marisol was crouched beside her dead sister, screaming breathlessly in total agony, her tears without end.

Faunia choked on her emotion.

Akvum was just beside that woman who had appeared so suddenly. Rykaedi. She seemed to be exchanging final remarks with him, for her own black-and-violet gateway opened up behind her, and she stepped away into it just a moment later.

The moment she disappeared, Akvum fell to his knee beside Cedric. He put his big paw over the boy's face for a moment… and then sighed in relief.

Faunia stood, began toward him. Her adrenaline was pumping, her body was so lightweight… she felt as though she might be dreaming. “What the pit was that… Akvum, what the fuck just—”

“She didn't get it. My Etherian worked on her.”

Faunia furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Dyosius. She didn't get Dyosius.”

“What is Dyosius?” Faunia hissed, her rage suddenly pointed at him.

Akvum looked up as though he hadn't realized she was there. “Ah—no, it's…”

“You've left me in the dark for too long. Tell me, tell me right now what this… Dyosius is. And Etherians, and who she was, and…”

“Faunia, I…”

“What!?” Her eyes welled up with tears.

He muttered, “I hereby expel you from the Hunters.”

And she dropped her rapier into the snow.

Epilogue

“I just… I don't understand. I want to understand. I didn't want it to turn out this way, but with Akvum keeping secrets that have cost lives… I can't help but feel that this is the correct course of action.”

Faunia cleared her throat when there was no response. She sat in her plainclothes on one of the tan sofas in her living room in Azar’kara, though nobody sat on the opposite sofa.

“Ivalié, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Faunia. Just a minute.”

Faunia picked up a hair tie from the tidy coffee table between the sofas, anxiously tied up her hair and fidgeted with the ponytail.

After quite a few minutes, Ivalié re-emerged from the kitchenette out of her view. He smiled and presented a teapot. “Care for some tea?”

“Offering me tea in my own home…” She managed a meager smile. “Your own comfort never fails you.”

He placed the pot on the table with two cups, then sat across from her. He began to pour. “I understand your worries, Faunia. I really do. At the same time, there's a certain expectation of confidentiality we give to High Karians.”

“I understand that, but—” She accepted the cup he handed to her, took a long sip. Then she placed it back down onto the table. “I want to know what's going on. Six people died because of that, and I could hardly do a thing. The man I attacked, he had some kind of… barrier. But it wasn't ley, I couldn't feel it at all.”

“Faunia, you know I have to ask you to let it go.” He placed his own cup down between them, folded his hands before his mouth.

Faunia picked up her cup again. She began to lift it to her mouth but stopped short, rested it over her lap. “What if… what if I can't?”

Ivalié lifted an eyebrow. “If you can't?”

“What if I refuse to put this away? If I don't stop?”

“Is that what you're saying? That you don't trust us?”

“That's not what I'm saying. But I can't stay in the dark. I was second-in-command beneath you but I know a fraction of what you and Akvum know. I don't find that acceptable if we share the same goals. Do we?”

Ivalié gave a deep sigh, sat back in his seat. “I'm going to ask you one more time, Faunia…”

Answer my damn question, she thought.

“Can you let this go? Can we move forward and forget this ever happened?”

She hesitated. Her hands began to shake.

But then she thought of Miriam, of Gysm, of the four magi dropped dead by Jirtu.

She took a deep breath. “...No.”

Ivalié stood, took the teapot and his cup. “Well then, Faunia Vleren, I second Akvum's own command.”

“You mean—”

“Faunia Vleren, you are hereby formally dismissed from the Hunters of Kylinstrom.”

And her whole world fell apart.