Lawman - Gain the ability to inspire confidence, strength, and courage in others. Makes your words have more power and authority embedded within them. Increases affinity with all weapons. Commonly appears in pack animals like Direwolves.

Conman - Makes others more susceptible to your lies. Gain an aura of likeableness and forgetfulness. Makes your words have more believability and rationality. Increases affinity with small weapons significantly. Uncommonly appears in pack animals like Direwolves and commonly in lone hunters like Deceiving Foxes.

-Excerpt from the Prime Sigils Manual.

I stand in the dark low to the ground listening intently for what's to come. Then, hearing nothing but my own heartbeat and frantic breathing and feeling nothing but the dull pain from my wounds, I try to shuffle towards a wall slowly. Putting my back against the wall will protect me from the Loperd in at least one direction. After taking just a few creeping, careful steps, I feel a swift wind that is nearly instantly followed by a searing pain near my left thigh as a colossal force passes by me.

Grunting in pain and trying not to scream, I swing in the general direction of where I think the Loperd went. Nothing. Taking another step, I double over and fall to my right knee as the fire in my leg becomes overwhelming. I focus my mind and try to ignore the pain and stand once more, but I cannot. The leg will no longer support my weight at all. Immediately after I realize I cannot stand, I come to another realization.

This is a perfect opportunity for another ambush. I'm on my knees and vulnerable. The only question is where.

I think I can take at least another attack from this Loperd. I just need to protect my head. Pulling my bag to cover the back of my neck, I focus again and try to listen. The only thing I need to do is react fast enough to grab onto it. Otherwise, it will slowly kill me like a wolf stalking its wounded prey.

For a moment, I honestly wonder how intelligent this animal is. Am I about to kill something sentient? Why am I only thinking about this now as my possible death approaches? However, these questions are wiped from my mind as the animal I ponder over takes the initiative once again.

This time though, I react a little bit faster as I anticipate the wind from its movements. Unfortunately for me, however, the Loperd goes for my unprotected, already wounded left arm. The instant I feel the Loperd movement through the air, I turn to my left at breakneck speed to try and grab the beast. But, instead, powerful jaws tear into my arm before I can fully position myself to wrestle the owner of the jaws.

The shock from the pain of the teeth puncturing through my left arm slows my movement but not enough to prevent me from wrapping an arm around one of the beast's legs before it can get away. After getting a grip on the beast, I feel it tear into my arm even further as it realizes I have a hold on it. Ignoring the beast grinding my arm into mush, I use my one working leg and try to throw the Loperd onto the ground with me.

Upon hitting the ground with the Loperd, I feel its claws try to dig through my clothes as I angle my rapier and stab it in its vitals. It quickly becomes a mindless brawl as two beasts and two hunters, one new and one old, try to kill each other. After just a few moments of this brawl, I feel my body grow colder as I finally recognize how much blood I have lost in the past minute.

Hurried due to my weakening limbs, I try to back away from the beast, moving backward using just one arm and leg. Unfortunately, the Loperd notices my retreat and growls at me as it tries to stand back up. I've also wounded it during our short brawl, but I can't tell how much we are hurt due to how dark it is. All I know is that my extremities are growing cold rapidly. In this brief respite, I try to bring my left arm to my eyes to discern its condition. Still, nothing enters my vision, just blinding pain that, thankfully, I'm getting quite accustomed to.

Sadly, this break ends just as quickly as it began. And even sadder before I am ready. A considerable weight pounces upon me and slams me into the cellar's cold, hard floor. This impact knocks the air out of my lungs as I struggle to recover as the beast on top of me tries again to end my life.

Stabbing my rapier into its side, I hear the Loperd growl and deftly smack it out of my hand with its paw. Without a weapon, I genuinely lose direction of what to do as the beast roars into my face, and I feel its anger. I'm the one who entered its lair out of nowhere, intending to kill. But, of course, it's angry. The furious Loperd goes to bite my throat to end the fight once and for all as I intercept its mouth with my uninjured arm, taking the gruesome bite to a non-lethal area.

While pushing its threatening maw from my free carotid, I draw the Lily with my marred and barely functioning left hand as I realize I have to use a bullet to get out of this alive.

I only know that I draw the gun because of the chilly sensation flowing into me from my left hand. But the beast upon me notices the Colt as well, and it releases my right arm in its flesh-gnawing mouth. I try to bring the barrel to point at the Loperd, but it's come to no avail. Then, right before I squeeze the trigger with my severely mutilated arm, the creature on top of me quickly smacks the Lily out of my weak grip.

I feel despair. My last hope has been dashed. Again. I should have known that the Lily will not continuously save me. My right arm, which was just gnawed on, drops to my side heavily, but it hits something hard and cold. I move my arm to put whatever I feel into my hand as I see the Loperd take the Lily in its mouth and throw it disdainfully to the side. Only right as the Loperd turns its face back towards me do I realize what is in my hand.

It's my old knife that I dropped early in the fight. Instantly the fire within me is rekindled. I grip the knife as hard as possible, readying to stab the Loperd. And the beast gives me the perfect opportunity as it goes in for the kill again. But before it can reach me, I muster all my remaining strength and stab the knife deep into the Loperds left eye, all the way to the handle.

The beast screams and whines in an awful sound as it backs off of me, careful of my knife. After I put the knife into its eye, I feel my body grow feeble and slow. At this point, the only thing keeping me going is the pain all over my body that prevents my eyes from closing, even in this pitch-black, seemingly eternal darkness.

I can almost hear Ma's voice in the dark, whispering to me alongside the pain. Cheering me on. I focus on what I know is a delusion to give me strength as I roll my body over and reach in the direction that the Lily was thrown. Ignoring the now-approaching Loperd, who has likely adjusted to its lost eye, I reach out and grasp for a handle in the dark. After just two tries of moving my arm, I feel something. And I sense that cool sensation once again as I hurriedly bring the Colt back to me and point it forward while on my back.

I feel the wind again disturbed as I immediately pull the trigger toward my feet, where it is likely coming from. Less than a second after, I feel an enormous weight slam into me and go limp as it loses the drive that created its momentum. The Loperds head ends up near mine, and I hear a small, quiet, and pitiful whimper as I am pinned under its dead weight.

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It's dead. I did it! Extreme joy and exhilaration wash through me momentarily before it is stifled as my body grows weaker and colder. But just before I pass out, an incredible burst of warmth floods my body that I recognize as the Lily's healing. I can feel my body being put back together and my blood restored. And alongside that healing, I am hit with an absolute torrent of emotions and memories that I can only assume are the Loperd's internal sentiments.

I feel how unsettled the beast was while fighting Edmund and me earlier, with the rest of its pack rapidly falling around it. I feel its anger and disbelief at being found by us in the middle of the woods, deep in a cellar. I feel its curiosity about who and what I am, a walker of two feet. I feel its loneliness that was never satiated, even by its pack that is immediately followed by a vision.

I see a short memory that I instinctively know is the Loperd's. First, it is lying apart from the rest of its pack while they all eat and enjoy themselves. Then, through the eyes of the beast I slayed, I can see ethereal chains that wrap around all the other members of its pack. This memory is followed by an even briefer memory, just a single image with powerful emotion.

The image left burning within my mind is a young cub chained and left in a cage alone, feeling helpless and alone.

After this deluge of feelings, I pull the Loperd off of my body as I realize what I had just done and what I did just a few hours ago. I search for and grab my weapons that were scattered during the fight. Then, sitting and resting a hand on the rapidly drying body, I choke up.

I've killed both a helpless man and a lonely animal where neither wished for death. I don't even know which one I just feel worse for. I don't even know if I should feel guilt for their deaths, but I do anyway. I hate myself for not even thinking about the man who choked and died on my blade until now. I should have felt something before now, regardless of what I've been through.

Killing feeling, thinking, and caring sentient beings was never something I imagined while wishing to be a hunter. None of Ma's stories about my father included any of these moments. It was always filled with action, adventure, and the slaying of giant nasty monsters. Not adolescent lonely animals that have been stripped of their family or bandits who you watch die.

I feel myself rapidly deteriorating and my thoughts growing even more self-agonizing, but I don't care. I deserve much more than just chewing myself up.

Out of nowhere, during my self-abuse, I hear approaching footsteps behind me. Extremely high-strung and on edge, I immediately turn and reflexively stab my rapier in the direction of the sound. Just halfway through the thrust, my arm is captured and twisted as I hear an old, deep, reassuring voice.

"Relax, Wyatt. You need to relax. Yur okay, lad. You did it."

My teacher consoles me as he brings me in for a hug and wraps his arms around me.

I hug Edmund back as I finally notice light streaming into the cellar, allowing me to see the damage done to the Loperd. This time, I notice how much smaller it is compared to the other Loperd, at most two-thirds the size. Covered in many stabs wounds and desiccated from the Lily, it died curled up.

Distracting me from my thoughts once again, Edmund pats me on the back and asks if I'm alright.

"Are you alright, Wyatt? You looked like you were about to break down crying."

I take a moment to think of the man I killed, whose name or identity I don't even know, and the animal I killed before responding.

"I killed a man earlier, Edmund. And then… I just killed another. This Loperd was just as intelligent and feeling as us."

I hear Edmund take a deep, raspy breath as he breaks the hug to look me in the eyes. He seems just as wounded and exhausted as I feel, with two black eyes and his silver hair dyed red and brown with blood and dirt. But despite his wounds, he focuses on providing me aid.

"You gotta put yur mind past it, kid. Or it will eat you up inside. The man you killed was a bandit. Likely a murderer and a rapist. It was good for a man like that to be put down. And the beast? It was kill or be killed."

I immediately argue with him, the reasons bursting out without pause.

"Maybe that's true for the man, but for the Loperd, It wasn't like that. I could have just not attacked the Loperd and left it alone. I didn't need to kill it."

A sigh streams out of Edmund's mouth.

"Maybe that's true, Wyatt... But I sent you down here, so if you wish to think that way, blame me instead for pitting you against it. However, no matter how you think of it, if you truly feel grief over its death, take it with you in life. Absorb its Sigil and take a part of it with you."

I just take his answer, for now, to move past it.

"I guess so."

The moment between us quickly passes as I look away from Edmund and at the beast's corpse and feel a sense of attachment to it. I don't know why I do. My only interactions with it were in life-or-death combat. Kill or be killed. Why do I feel such emotions?

Edmund walks towards the corpse while telling me to come with him.

"Come over here. Based on yur feelings and that you killed it yurself, I think it's time you get yur first Sigil."

I followed while nodding my head. I can't bring up the excitement I had previously thought. The emotions and feelings from the Loperd after I killed stifled any elation I would have. Edmund continues to guide me while crouching next to the dead animal.

"Just put your hand upon the corpse and attempt to sense the Ether within. Then focus on bringing it to yurself. It's likely to be much easier this time. And Wyatt, when you successfully do so, stay calm and cool-headed. Be careful and deliberate in yur actions and thoughts while attuning."

I reply with a question, hoping for more help.

"Okay, I will try. Anything else I need to know?"

Edmund stands and begins walking toward the hatch to the outside before turning and answering me.

"Nope. Nothing else that will help you. The hard part is out of the way already, kid. I'll be right back."

I ask where he is going, worried I will be left alone again.

"Where are you going? You leaving me again?"

Edmund puts down my worries while stepping up and out of the cellar into the rising sun's light.

"You growing attached, Wyatt? Put away yur worry. You weren't the only one fighting. I gotta grab some bodies so they don't attract more attention."

Right, Edmund was also fighting. I had completely forgotten about that, too focused on my own hunt. I wonder how many he was forced to kill in defense of himself? I doubt he sees it that way, though. To him, it's probably just his job.

I ignore my distracting thoughts and turn my attention to the dead Loperd lying in the cellar. The light from the outside just barely covers the corpse at the end of the circle of light that streams from the hatch. It makes me think of a boundary or the jail that the Loperd was in its memory. What lies beyond? Will I become like Edmund, unfazed by killing?

I don't know. But I will try my best to keep my compassion and imagination for others' feelings. Ma once said that too few people have imagination. That they can't imagine how others suffer and live. Because of that missing quality, they cause others to suffer so much more.

Only now do I begin to think that maybe she was talking about my father? He must have gone through the same things Edmund has and lost his imagination. Especially if he became a powerful enough Hunter to prevent a breach with his possible presence.

Looking at the Loperd, I make a promise to myself. And a Graves never breaks an oath, so I am confident this will hold.

I promise to carry its Sigil and memories with me for the rest of my life. As I do this, I place my hand upon it, closing my eyes in an attempt to sense the Ether within its corpse.

It is much easier this time; maybe I am more in tune with this beast's Ether. As I delve deep within the body with my mind, I can sense a pulsating and undulating bundle of energy within the beast. I continue to observe it for a while as I can feel it is beginning to fade and leak outwards. A thought arises when I see this phenomenon, how are Sigils created? Are they just inputted into beasts and demons? That doesn't sound right. I'll have to ask Edmund.

Discarding the thoughts that only serve to distract me once again, I focus on the Ether. This Ether is unlike the slippery type like the Rogue Sigil. Instead, it feels strange and undulating, as if it is being pulled back and forth by an invisible chain. After feeling the Ether, I then try to just move the Ether with my mind towards myself. It reminds me of the feeling of curling my tongue backward somehow. An odd, unique, and exotic sensation that can still be understood.

The movement of the Ether begins, and it quickly starts to flow toward me like a downward stream. And for the third time today, I feel a cool sensation enter my hands and then ebb towards the rest of my body. I feel no change in my body; however, in response to this sensation, a word interjects itself into my mind.

Philosopher.

Confused by this intrusion, the unrelated word, and the sudden stop of energy flow within, I open my eyes.

But my eyes see not the cellar I just recently almost died in. Instead, I see inside an old, dark cabin and a weathered purpleheart table in front of me. And resting on the table is an oversized book, almost covering half the table. The word implanted into my mind is put away as I'm alarmed and look around. Still, this cabin has no doors, windows, or other features, and the only light seems to emanate from the book on the table.

And something that only furthers my panic is that while looking around, I could have sworn I saw a colossal eyeball through one of the gaps in the wood. But the next second I look, it's gone. I try to ignore it and focus on the table.

I look closer at the book, and I see veins of multicolored light upon its cover. Some symbols remind me of words but not in any language I've ever seen written, and most certainly not one I know.

Feeling as though I have nothing else to do, I reach toward the book that lies ahead of me.