The dagger in my hands felt heavy, and the thoughts in my head were getting blurry. Sweat droplets wet my forehead, and every breath I took felt like pulling a stone from the mud.
Staring into the dozens of red, bloodied orbs they had for eyes felt like I was looking my fate in the face. A parallel to my eventual becoming.
The stench of fermented waste that the Vamlins emitted was mildly sobering.
For whatever reason, the creatures seemed oblivious to whether I was prey or predator. For several moments, they stood there, observing my motions.
The first move came from the Vamlin closest to me. It jumped over the unconscious Truman on the ground, reaching for me. I moved away, my idiotic mind jerked awake.
For a split moment, I had considered taking the disgusting monsters head-on. My core person was one to fight for her life. But she was better than to opt for suicide blatantly.
So I ran.
With whatever power was stored in my calves, I pushed my figure backward, planted my feet against the ground, and miraculously evaded a claw attack from the Vamlin.
SKRELF! They hissed, now possessing all of the motives to haunt me dead.
I sprinted towards a tree in the distance, the looming multiple heads of creatures shadowing my every step. The ground shuddered beneath their stampede, vibrating up my legs.
Their hissings had morphed into twisted giggling, and I wanted to close my eyes. But I no longer had a say in what I did. Something else was driving my moves—something raw and trustworthy.
My hands were trembling; as did every breath I took.
The leaves falling from the trees were clear within my view, each tree distanced from me from all angles. Each crushed branch under my steps. The trees' intertwining branches above my head deprived me of the moonlight and stars’ embrace.
SKRELF! A rip sound through my clothes. Sudden, cold, and sharp fangs grazed my back and pushed me forward, unintentionally giving me momentum.
A weak scream left my lips at the impact. Pain tears and abundant sweat blurred my vision.
Warm liquid dripped down my back.
My heart beat inside my head. So fucking loud.
Vision became blurry. Sounds were getting farther and farther away…
Even though the monsters were right behind - close enough that their breath was on my neck - their steps sounded distant.
Shapes blurred around me. The shades of grey intertwine into a nightmarish darkness, reminding me of being underwater.
A stone skipped.
Distant hissing.
A tree evaded.
A heavy scratch on my arm.
A huff on my shoulder.
The burning in my calves. Fainter than I knew it was.
My breaths felt like they weren't my own. Loud. Desperate. And unfamiliar.
The blood on my back was warm, prickly, and... dull.
The sky cleared above my head, there were no longer trees to evade. When did I make it out of the forest?
The grass under my bare foot was rough. Cold. I wasn't sure where I was going. Or if I was even moving.
Sky in the distance. I would have gone there, to the far deep, starry beauty. But I crashed into a wall. And the ground tilted… Or was that me?
A loud thud. I was on all fours on the grass.
My breaths felt unfamiliar.
Gritted teeth. I turned on my back to meet the sight of the monsters, backing away, even as I was sitting.
They loomed over me. No silhouette resembled the other, the only repeated trait was the crimson in their bulging eyes.
They were observing me, no longer in a frenzy. Their hisses had gone quiet.
Jaw clenched. Rough grass inside my fist. And with a daring, shaky effort, I ripped it off, nails picking up the mud underneath it, and threw it up at the monsters. The mud crashed against their indiscernible, blurry faces, and the grass floated in the wind.
Fear had evaporated from my system. The only remains were an unfamiliar burning sensation in my heaving chest and a spiteful look in my eyes.
The Vamlins backed away, their ear-grinding sounds turned whimpers. But it was not because of my lousy attack.
My vision began to clear, focusing their attention and its target. They were looking at something behind me.
I turned around and looked up, blinking as I distinguished that the wall I crashed onto was a man. Clothed in dark clothes, barely recognizable against the night's canvas.
A chill coursed through my back, my instinct telling me that this man was a bigger danger than these monsters.
His hair was black, softly moving against the night breeze. His features were too far to sight, but his eyes... The cold, apathetic cold in his eyes was clear even from afar. His gaze studied my wild state, casting a lingering look on the trembling in my hands, which tightened around the grass.
He muttered a word I couldn’t hear.
The stranger's gaze shifted back to the Vamlins, who seemed to be paralyzed in his presence. I staggered sideways, leaving the two threats face to face.
Run. I have to run
I looked out toward the hill's side: my next destination.
The man took a deep breath, and from the corner of my eye, I caught him crouching to meet my height. I stiffened, stabilizing my shaky body.
"Hey," he called, and I turned to look at him, breath-catching as I met his careful, concerned gaze. "Are you alright?"
A moment of quiet dawned upon the hill, my focus quietly shifting to the soft breeze's sound against my ears.
His expression was that of distant curiosity and a hint of feigned concern, which seemed to serve more as a polite mask than anything sincere.
But my stupid body did its stupid thing.
Tears rushed to my eyes. My breath was released steadily. And my heart tightened both at the thought of how pathetic I was and at the comfort the question gave me.
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Are you alright?
The words melted over me like water on dry sand... How pathetic of me
A small whimper resonated on the ground by my foot. There, sniffing the air beside my leg was a winged little creature, with a fluffy golden coat and large, sparkly, completely black eyes. A fox... with wings. The creature seemed to belong to the stranger, who glanced upon it briefly.
The low moonlight caught on his skin, pulling out a faint olive warmth beneath the shadows. His features were sharp, unapologetically so—the kind of face that seemed carved out of both boredom and a ruthless sort of curiosity. My eyes traced the line of his nose, straight and clean, and the shape of his jaw, shadowed just enough to make him look… striking. I was about to pull my gaze away when his eyes found mine, dark and unreadable.
A hesitant curiosity kept me looking at him, that and my stubbornness to deny any fear on my expression as there was.
I opened my mouth to speak, but his expression shifted. His gaze sharpened and his expression tightened, his brows coming together subtly as a flicker of something more complex crossed his face. The cold in his gaze sharpened into a familiar anger, his nose scrunching into a look I recognized well: hatred.
"Cursed, are we? How envious." His words seemed a thought that slipped his grasp. His voice was almost a whisper. Sweet, but laced with a tangible edge.
He clicked his tongue, letting show his sharp canines. Reaching up to fix the collar of his cloak, the stranger stood up lazily and threw the hood over his head.
The spark of humanity in his eyes died off as he took one last glance at me.
As he began to retreat, the monsters turned to me with renewed hunger. My stomach clenched as their gaze fell on me, a hollow ache building with each slow step they took.
"To die. I'm cursed to die, aren't I?" It was the first conclusion I made. And I had a strong inkling that I hit the nail right on the head
"Glad I could be informative.” He muttered, turning away completely. The winged fox followed suit.
My legs were shaking. The adrenaline had worn off, and my sanity felt as though it was slipping through my grasp with each breath I took. But I sat up, keeping my expression composed.
Though I lost half of it in my journey, I still had some gold on me. I could have used that, had I not noticed the quality of his clothes, the long deep grey cloak, the neat condition of his hair, the collar of his chemise, and the elegance with which this stranger carried himself.
If not money, what could appeal to him?
"Why did you even come here?" I asked. There was no response, he simply carried ahead. Then, he stopped, looked up at the sky, then at the little fox, let his shoulders slump, and threw a glance back.
"I was hoping to meet the talent behind a certain discovery of mine..." he turned around, making the monsters freeze again, only whimpers sounding out of their mouths.
I followed his hand’s motion as it sunk into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a familiar statuette. My cute little stone golem-shaped wooden figurine.
"Pip..." I stood up.
"Pip?" The stranger repeated, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. He looked down at my statuette and let out a bit of a chuckle.
The cute name didn't seem to fit the golem any longer. It was drenched in dried droplets of blood, and its arms were torn off.
The kit's sniffing around me only just made sense. It wasn't the curse the animal was smelling; it was tracking the maker of Pip.
"I pride myself in many things," I replied. "Pip is hardly one of them."
"Really now?" A glint of curiosity flickered through his eyes, then faded into the focused hostility his eyes warded off. "Is your will to live included? It must be." There was a backdrop of dry humor to every word he spoke.
"Why do you ask?" I didn't have it in me to question if that was a twisted threat.
"Since your curse is so strong it reeks. Yet that look is on your face." His nose scrunched up, his glare intensifying.
What look?
"No," I lifted my chin. "My refusal to die is but a testament to the knowledge I possess—and must protect.”
"Knowledge so valuable it sustains your will to live?" He scoffed, taking a deliberate step closer. The dismissive curl of his lip barely masked his intrigue.
"Knowledge beyond what you could ever hope to grasp, I am certain."
The stranger's brow lifted, a flash of surprise betraying him. The inexplicable spite in his gaze was the same, yet I saw another spark flicker beneath—the unmistakable tug of curiosity.
A heavy quiet fell between us, amplifying the sound of heartbeats in my head.
He leaned closer, his voice a low rasp. "Then I suppose this is a last-ditch plea to preserve that knowledge, is it not?" His hollow gaze bored into mine.
I held it, unflinching. "It is merely a confession, Sir."
If he would not offer his help voluntarily, then I needed to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
A faint, impatient crease marked his brow, but he was far too practiced to show more. I would need to press harder.
I needed to press harder.
"I know things fro-"
"Skull of Mabrin." His shoulders slumped. "Are you familiar with such a thing?" He asked, tone expectant.
Raking my memory, I sifted through details from Wholeheartedly Yours, straining to piece together what he meant.
Skull of Maldrid. Skull of Montier. I knew where those could be found. But... Mabrin? What the fuck is a Mabrin?!
"... Three-headed dragon from the Korpian Records,” I said. “Maldrid, Montier, and... Mabrin. Is that what you mean?" A daring assumption was the best I could muster.
The stranger blinked at me, surprised.
My eyebrows lifted as relief came to wash over me. “Wrong.” His eyebrows fell down and the word came over me like a boulder.
I braced for impact, fists tightening at the thought of him taking offense to my audacity and leav—
"Tears of the Dead." He said, making me realize I had shut my eyes tightly like a fucking child. "Your precious knowledge must encircle such an item." The unconvinced look in his eyes told me that that was a threat just now.
It felt like this was a procedure he went through often.
The glint of interest I had gained initially was fading with every breath I took.
"I know what that is. And I know how to get ahold of them."
The stranger gave me a dull look. "Lies. How predictable." He huffed, trying to turn away.
"I am not lying." I grabbed the sleeve of his cloak, grunting at the reminder of the claw injury on my back. "I promise."
“Then, you must be able to tell me what they are.”
“I cannot. If I do, I lose any leverage in our agreement—you must understand as much.”
“An agreement?” He scoffed.
“A bargain.” I nodded, determined. “I’ll tell you the means to acquire it… if you will but strike a bargain with me.”
His eyes flickered with offense, then cooled to a weary, measured patience.
"... Very well." He muttered, waving a dismissive hand at the monsters that were facing him.
Before I could comprehend, the creatures were reduced to crimson mush on the ground. They’d not made a sound, nor drawn a breath, before his dark substance mana engulfed them into a ball and tightened in a blink, leaving a tiny ball of meat that fell apart with the disappearance of his mana.
The sudden silence was chilling. I sank to my knees, strength abandoning me, staring wide-eyed at the remnants of what had only moments before threatened my life.
My breaths hitched, my hands trembling uncontrollably.
The greatest terror I’d known had vanished in an instant—by his hand.
My thoughts spun as bile climbed up my throat.
I turned, wide-eyed, to the stranger, who now sat, legs crossed, a small kit balanced upon his knee.
“Why stare so? Was it not their death you’d hoped for?” His tone bore that smooth, chilling calm. “I hold little for the notion of a threat. So do me the courtesy of speaking truthfully henceforth, miss."
I swallowed the acid and bit my tongue—an effort to ground myself.
“Now tell me, is it truth you speak?” he asked, his eyes an unreadable shade of calm.
“Y-Yes… I promise.”
A light nod and a grunt was all of his reaction. The stranger thought for a moment, analyzing my state, and taking occasional looks at his kit.
The stranger gently caressed his kit's fur.
“Long, fair hair… blue eyes so vibrant. Vernon’s criminal daughter, I take it...? Well, consider yourself fortunate to bear your name.” A light grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, slightly revealing his dimples. “As fortune would have it, I am fascinated by the thought of having an Ashdown under a fun little contract. It was unexpected, but his little meeting shall prove… amusing, I think.”
Every word that left this man’s lips felt like a lie.