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Kate "Evileye" Heron

I stumble tiredly through the dark forest, clutching my chest tightly to keep the stab wound from worsening. Each step sends a jolt of pain through my body, but I lift my foot forward, my left eye covered by the eyepatch given to me by Ed, pulsing.

"I know. We're still far as hell away, Mie."

Again, my eye pulses, a thought from the artifact that has been melded with me since a week after my birth. Not that I can be mad about it. I was born blind, after all.

"I know. But Demonsbane needs a sacrifice. Those Roots don't count. Eli took their souls long ago. And with Marshall's death, there is no more point in holding back the Tree's schemes. It's time to leave the shadows, Kate."

The voiced thoughts come to me rasped and bleary, like flowing through a film. Grunting, I tighten my grasp on my wound as Mie, or the Mind's Eye, sends a tiny line of Ether to help me. Her Ether psychically squeezes the damage, restraining the flowing blood.

Perhaps it is time to leave the dark. The past months have been a constant slog, running from place to place, Mie guiding me from Root to Root. I think I've killed over a hundred of Eli's underlings. And many of them weren't weak. Near ten were Forerunner-level.

And the cavity in my chest that pierces through my lung and the side of my heart, the damage halted by both Mie and I working in tandem, was caused by the combined work of three of them.

The dense undergrowth makes my progress slow and arduous. Thorny branches snag at my clothes and scrape against my skin, adding to my weariness, and I trip on one of these branches as I think intensely.

"Pay attention!"

"Sorry!"

I burst out an apology as I regain my balance from the stumble, yet more blood runs down my body from the incident as I lost grasp on Cauterize. The skill works slowly, closing the edge of the wound with Ether to stem the bleeding while Mie squeezes it closer for me, but I've never had all that good of a focus. Doesn't help Demonsbane is constantly screaming in my ear for blood.

Tightening my grip with my left hand on the sheathed blade, I attempt to quiet the Claymore, but it refuses to yield. I don't think it ever has without blood and a soul to satiate its craving. I wonder, honestly, who this weapon came from. Ed has no clue, and apparently, even Vincent doesn't. Arnold Pilner had to of made this Claymore from someone. Or something.

Roars leave the weapon, bashing itself upon my mind as Mie helps with a pulsing sigh. She prefers to have me feel her dissatisfaction physically rather than mentally. Ever since Ed had her advance to an Arca when I was five, the endeavor supremely risky, she's been by my side, talking, gloating, and, for the most part, annoyed. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Not that I'll tell her that, though.

We're a team. A damn good one.

Behind us, a mile or so away, lies the remains of an encampment of Eli Weiss' Roots that testify to that. At least thirty dead, the most significant group we've been able to find. And now, the eerie silence of the forest is broken only by the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustling of unseen creatures.

Despite my weariness and confidence in safety, I force myself to stay focused, my eyes scanning the path ahead for any hidden dangers. Getting surprised now would be awful. Sure, Mie can notice any minds within a hundred feet and discern their location, but some can get past her.

So, I stumble through the forest, heading toward the nearest city, Pridestead. I have a goal. One that I will not fault. Each labored breath fights against my movement as I taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Yet, I inhale anyway, the wound in my lung gradually closing from the Vigor flowing in my body that enhances all parts of an organism.

The Pillars will all fall for what they did to my tribe. I've held that promise in my heart for eighteen long years since the massacre occurred. The Hunters took me and the other children, but I was far younger than the rest, easier to train and meld. I couldn't recall my culture or ways. Not even my original name. Not even my tribe's true name.

But Mie remembered. She might not have been conscious, but she remembers.

My name was Kwakiteh. The old word for Bloody Flower. My father was Sahtateh or Bloody Valor. My mother was Tsiitsii-Tsa'se. Rainy Raven.

Everything of us was wiped away. The Bloody Valor of the Comanche people was turned into the Harrowed Hawk of the Hollows. The terrible man who fought three Pillars to a standstill.

He lost for a reason none will admit or listen to.

The awful reality is that those who defeated him won not by strength.

My teeth tighten as I once more immerse myself in the memories. Mie attempts to pull me out, but she can't. When blood flows and my heart calms, it always returns to the forgotten past.

Eli Weiss, his cunning and awful mind threatened my life to my father. And tearful, while a knife was held to my infantile and blind face, Mie not yet awoken, Sahtateh relented. He allowed his death to replace mine.

Over the years, I've grown to forgive only two Pillars for their acts in the massacre. The first is my adoptive father, Ed Summers. The old man and his smile were the brightest light in the darkest times. He is also the only reason I'm alive, as a terrible sickness befell me when I was five. The only way to save me was to allow Mie to advance to a 7th Sigil, enabling the artifact temporarily overtake my body and heal me. Then, Eli sealed the artifact back into my body using all his might and the Power of Demonsbane.

He said that if it were any other child, I would have died as an infant merely touching the artifact. Yet, Comanche are special. Unlike any other humans, we are born with talent. Even children as old as a week old can possess a Sigil.

And yet... only I remain. Some of those near me in age are still alive somewhere out there, but they are few. And they have forgotten the pain of the past.

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But I have not.

My respect held back my fury only for a man as great as Marshall Travis, and it appears it was not misplaced. Ed wouldn't want me to do what I'm about to, but... he's not here anymore.

Eli took Ed. I don't know why, how, or where other than he is in Blackreach. My adoptive father, the one Mie calls father, is gone.

He will be bait. Bait for the system I so dearly want to tear down.

My nails dig into my palms as my wounds cease bleeding. Mie and Cauterize did their jobs. I give her thanks as I walk forward. Our peace is hinged upon our understanding, gratitude, and reciprocation. If she ever wants to do something, I'll help her, and vice-versa.

It's not the perfection my father is said to have had, but I don't think it's too far. Yet, as I traverse the forest to near Pridestead, my first target left alone there, I exhaust some time to plan.

I had to kill the Roots behind me. It's simply an oath I have. All those with Eli Weiss and he himself must die. No exceptions. Thankfully, Ed and Marshall have distanced themselves from him. Otherwise... I'm unsure what I would have done.

But in Pridestead lies Clarence Love, the Silent Scorpion who abandoned Bonedunes without even a fight for its people. I know Eli isn't with him, and the Angel is left alone without another high-level defender for the Tree's laboratory. The bastard. He left tens of thousands, if not over a hundred thousand, to die from the incoming Nahullo and demons without lifting even his pinky in support.

He will die. He will be the first Angel to die.

I'm no Angel myself, but between Mie, Demonsbane, and my Absolution-soon-to-be-Power Mirror, I think I can kill the bastard. After all, he's best around dirt and at night. Plus, I doubt he's used to being blind. Or, a woman. Or, beset by madness.

Mie thinks Mirror is what I've always wanted my whole life, for others to know what it's like to be me.

To rely on another being to see.

To constantly be riddled with aches, pains, and whispers.

To know, that in the end, your people will never return.

To have a body torn apart by disease, held together only by the very thing that caused it.

Mirror lets them feel it all. For some, they can push through. Others? They fall immediately. My adoptive father could bear the pain. So could Marshall. No one else who has withstood can boast the same so far.

I wonder which Clarence will be. Will he crumble or fight? The question is curious. Curious indeed. As I ponder, I increase my speed, Vigor Rush fueling my body. The substance from being a three-time Abbot is plentiful and powerful. I always wanted to be like Ed, but I'm happy I didn't follow his Sigils exactly. Otherwise, I would be hopeless in saving him. My muscles bulge and stabilize despite my exhaustion as I accelerate to a blur, furiously speeding through the forest toward Pridestead. Purpose then sets me further, the skill being Ed's old version of Azure Rampart, wherein it increases one's heartbeat and physical toughness accordingly.

While I move, Mie speaks to me, throwing some soundless noise into the night as she sets her Mentalist Sigils to work, bolstering my form with her will turned into Psyche.

"Be careful, Kate. Don't waste all your Vigor before we even get there. Meditation takes time."

I nod to her as I take it to heart. She's right. I can't waste it. To refill my Vigor to the brim would take a week of uninterrupted meditation, where I focus on absorbing Ether and converting it. So, I let back a bit on Vigor Rush, letting it fall to a more reasonable level. While I can do that as Mie takes charge of our body, it's still preferred to not consume it all.

My heart pounds in my chest as I sprint through the dark forest toward Pridestead, my body moving at an unnatural speed. The blood rushes in my veins like a rapid river, fueling me to run faster and faster. Purpose puts in work as I hear the pounding blood over the sound of my footfalls. The journey is silent and without event for almost an hour. Yet, as I get within fifty miles of Pridestead, in the distance, I spot a faint glimmer of light, like a beacon in the night.

Tightening my eyes, Mie warns me with a quartet of pulses. Four people. Then, she speaks.

"Powerful minds. One reminds me of Marshall, but they seem unconscious and injured. The other three aren't as dangerous. Still, approach cautiously. I don't want to waste any more effort fighting again. I'd rather read that new book you got. Handmaiden's Hustle? That's way more fun."

I force down a laugh at Mie as I continue my way forward. She'll never change. Most artifacts are as grim as they come, but she's not all that bad. Though, if I don't give her what she wants, she'll get mad. Real mad. Mad enough to fight me internally, like a murderous toddler with a thousand times the capability. I don't think artifacts have any way to dampen their desire or emotions.

But I ignore those thoughts as I near the light. As I draw closer, I see a campfire burning, its warm glow contrasting with the cold darkness of the forest. Mie tightens our gaze with Telescope, delivering the sight of the campfire effortlessly despite the remaining distance. A man, covered in blood and heavily wounded, lies beside the fire, fast asleep. Three gruff Outlaws stand around the fire, their faces taut and focused. The look of one is so obvious. I could discern an Outlaw from a mile away.

I slow my pace, trying to catch my breath, as I observe the scene before me. My instincts tell me to stay hidden, to avoid confrontation, to focus on reaching Pridestead, but something deep down stops me. My jaw hinges itself oddly as I look at the unconscious man. Is that?

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

With a deep breath, more sigh than preparation, I tighten my grip on the hilt of my blade, feeling the cold metal against my skin. An incessant roar of Demonsbane strikes at my mind, but Mie steps in, her Ether shielding me.

Returning to my pace, I dart out of the shadows and into the flickering light of the fire. The outlaws turn to face me, surprise and confusion evident in their eyes. I lock eyes with the leader, his hand reaching for his gun. Ether swirls in my eyes as I catch each with my pupils, and Mirror stirs as I hold no mercy, their speeds reminiscent of Wondrous stages.

A moment lasts where I make a connection between each of our souls and the next, the blooming Power-to-be forms. Every man before me shouts with confusion and dread as they reach for their blinded eyes and in pain of their aching conditions.

Without hesitation, I charge forward, my movements a blur of speed as Demonsbane draws itself from the sheath. I have almost no control over it when it wants a soul this badly. The sound of metal against metal rings out as my blade meets the throat of the nearest man, and I decapitate him with an effortless swipe, the gold necklace that heralds his death making only noise and no defense.

A moment after his death, all the blood shifts into a maelstrom as it flows up the blood groove in Demonsbane. Then, the blade lengthens a foot without gaining any weight.

The other outlaws move to attack, gradually forcing their way past my skill, but they are no match for Demonsbane and Mie's Psychic Crush. I dart between them, striking with deadly precision, leaving them bloodied and defeated as their minds shatter from the onslaught. Within moments, the campsite is still once more, save for the crackling of the fire.

It's overkill, for sure, to use such a draining skill on them like Mirror, but for these three to hold a man like Lennon Hull captured, I had to be ready for anything. It seems as though they were simply weak. I wonder how they managed to arrest him.

"Anyone else nearby? Surely there is more?"

I ask Mie for confirmation, and she gives me it immediately. No one else is nearby. How odd.

I turn my attention back to the wounded man, who stirs awake with a groan. He looks up at me, his eyes filled with an almost drunken confusion. I offer him a faint smile as I kneel down by him.

"Kwakiteh. Nice to meet you, Lennon."

Lennon squints at me as his pupils follow the flowing blood in the grass to the bodies, then to my Claymore that is devouring their essence. If only Demonsbane would give me the Vigor it produces, then I'd be unstoppable. Only Ed could manage that, though.

The wounded man speaks as I force my blade back into its sheath, even while the Claymore fights not to go in.

"Well, I don't know what that means but thank you for the rescue. It seems... I fell asleep. Sometimes Ether drains a lot out of you."

I chuckle softly as I nudge Mie with my mind. I have no qualms against this man, barring the fact he killed one of my prey, Eden, but that's okay. At least she's dead.

"He's not lying. He did fall asleep. These Outlaws must have captured him for the bounty. What dumbasses. To hold the Bladed Monster... who do they think they are? I say we let him join us. He seems to like snipping Angels as well."

Shaking my head at her in refusal, I help untie Lennon.

"I'm just passing by, heading to Pridestead. What about you, oh so powerful Angel?"

Lennon smiles, his grin nearly reaching the edge of his ear while I help him up. The smell of blood and guts from him is terrible and far worse than mine. How many has he killed without even bathing? Fifty? A hundred? Two hundred? The scent is awful, and I push him away once he's on his feet.

"Hey, no need to be so rude. I'm hurt, aren't I?"

Scoffing at his words, I pass him a canteen I notice on the ground, kicking it toward him.

"Wash yourself off, asshole. You smell like a slaughterhouse."

"I'm telling you, get him to join us. It doesn't seem like he knows who you are yet, but you could use the help. Lennon Hull is said to hold no equal in the blade. Perhaps he can teach you to wield Demonsbane with greater skill."

She's so annoying sometimes. I know she just wants to watch him fight. That's one of her favorite things; to watch mighty people battle. But... she's right. He'd be a good ally. So, I inhale a large breath, but he speaks first.

"So... you and Demonsbane... Wanna kill some Angels? I'm looking to fly a bit higher, but I'd feel bad killing such a wee lass. Maybe when you grow up a bit, we can have a duel for the blade."

"It would appear he does indeed know you."

Duh.

"It would also appear he wants Demonsbane. Though, he appears--"

"Devil, will you shut up-- no, sorry. I'd love to join you. I was actually heading to Pridestead to kill Clarence. Though, I'd warn you against a duel. I'm a deadly flower, Lennon."

Mie sputters in disbelief as I cut her off, and I ignore her thoughts as Lennon smiles and reaches out a hand to seal the deal.

"How could you! Hey! HEY! Listen to me!"

"Sounds wonderful, then. And what would your eastern name be, my lovely Comanche?"

Despite being bare and upfront, his words possess a charm that has me grinning from ear to ear as I shake his hand. I like him enough not to be angry that I have to use my 'given' name.

"Kate. Kate Heron."