Within the dark of an inn’s room, lit only by the flicker of dying candles, a pair of girls sat upon a magically cleaned bed. Autumn’s slim fingers gently grasped a blood-flecked chin. With utmost gentleness, she carefully wiped Eme’s face free of crimson. The wet cloth in her hand gathered up the dewdrops of red till the white was naught but stained completely. She wrung it out into the darkness before taking the catgirl’s hands in her own. Slowly, methodically, she cleansed them of filth.

“There,” she whispered. “All better now.

Eme didn’t respond to the witch’s sweet whispers. Her eyes remained downcast, staring at the warped floorboards cladding their room. Crimson footprints marred the surface.

The dark-haired witch took in her lonesome bard’s drooping ears and quivering eyes. Pressing her own cool forehead against Eme’s wet one, she quietly breathed in the catgirl’s scent and blocked her sight. And as she rubbed her head back and forth, she whispered, “it’s not your fault.”

Eme quivered.

“You did what you had to do. I know it wasn’t something you wanted to do, and you feel lost, but we have to keep moving, ok? Can you do that for me, Eme? Can you keep moving?”

Against her forehead, Autumn felt a nod.

A rain of silent tears cascaded down Eme’s cheeks; crystal-clear beads that shone sadly beautiful in the dim candlelight. A hiccup escaped the poor girl. She pressed herself into Autumn’s shoulder, wetting the witch’s robes with her tears and snot.

Autumn didn’t mind. She simply held the weeping girl and lovingly caressed her head, rubbing the soft fur behind her ears to comfort her.

Before too long, Eme’s tears subsided. As she brushed the remaining salt from her reddened eyes, she distanced herself from Autumn’s embrace. Sitting back on the bed, she whispered a quiet, “thank you.”

Autumn gave her a sad smile, her own emotions in flux.

While she’d fought humanoid foes before, this marked the first time she’d killed one she didn’t see as a monster. They were slavers, sure, but they were people too. The only other time she’d come close was in Everwatch, but it’d been Pyre who dealt the final blow, even if Autumn had mortally wounded him.

Startlingly, Autumn found she didn’t care. She felt nothing regarding taking a life. No more so than if she’d cut down a goblin or beast. Her lack of empathy towards the drow stood in stark contrast with the distraught catgirl beside her.

Had she broken herself somehow? Autumn thought. Or was she always a monster?

Shaking off those dire thoughts, she turned to the rest of her team.

Around the room, the others sat, wrapped in a cloak of silence and paranoia. The air smelled of smoke and iron. Runes glowed brightly around the edges of the room, placed by Edwyn to choke off any noise from escaping. None dared speak above a whisper, even so. They all listened in that dreadful quiet for any sounds of pursuit or creeping in the hallways. Liddie leant against the shuttered window, peeking out through the gaps onto the main street below.

No one seemed to be after them for now.

Nethlia glanced around the room, taking in the quiet and blood-marred individuals huddled within. Confident that they were safe for the time being, she cleared her throat, garnering everyone’s attention.

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t expecting this to happen. Although, I’d sort of hoped we’d get some more time to ourselves before it happened,” she chuckled humorlessly. Turning to Liddie she asked, “so, they were all part of this brotherhood gang?”

Liddie nodded without taking her eyes off the street below. “Yeah, the ‘Free Brotherhood’ or some other stupid name. They didn’t seem all that smart to me. Likely, they were just some pawn of a matriarch or someone similar. Which is a problem, as I doubt they’d be best pleased that their pawn just went up in flames,” she said, gingerly wiping the soot from her new gills. She grimaced as they stung.

Off to the side, Pyre blushed. “I said I’m sorry,” she muttered.

Autumn spared a glance toward the flame-headed alchemist. Under the witch’s knowing eyes, Pyre could not hide the faint trembling in her hands nor the quick glances she sent towards the harsh noises streaming in from the outside. And while Autumn did not know entirely what violence she and Liddie had perpetrated, she could guess.

The conflagration of a burning viking flashed before Autumn’s eyes.

Autumn looked away.

“Right,” Nethlia chuckled. The sound of it soothed the tense atmosphere. “So we’re out of time? Figures. Best we make tracks. Autumn, you said you had a plan before?”

Autumn jolted at the sudden address. “Plan?”

“You said you had a plan to get us out of here?” Nethlia asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh, right! I did. I mean, I do. It’s not a splendid plan, just the basics of one, really,” Autumn rambled. Her breath came in quick and fast.

“Slow down. Breathe, Autumn.” Nethlia stroked Autumn’s back. “Any plan would be good right now. There’s no need to panic.”

The sound of Nethlia's voice and her soothing touch calmed Autumn’s panic. Breathing deep, she took all that fright and fear and stuffed it deep amongst the dread filling her hat to bursting.

Now calm, she spoke.

“Thank you,” she smiled towards Nethlia.

Turning back towards the group, she outlined her bare-bones plan.

“Ok, so, when we went north, we saw that they’d shut the northern gates. While asking around, I found out that this is because the Wild Hunt is just beyond the walls, fighting with, most likely, the hag. Now, while this means we are close to our destination, it also means we’ll need to find another exit. Luckily, there is a less guarded one we can use: the river gate.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Currently, there is a massive fuck-off chain barring the way. If we want to get out that way, and we do, we’ll need to cut it down or destroy the mechanism holding it up. What I’m proposing is this: two of us will sneak into the two towers — I’m thinking of Liddie for the far side and myself for the closer — and lower the chain. At the same time, the rest of you will get the sleigh into the water and head for the exit. Once we are through, the pair of us will regroup further downstream. Thoughts?”

“Are you sure you can take on the tower yourself?” Nethlia asked worryingly. “It’ll be well guarded.”

Autumn shrugged. “I know it’ll be, but I can use the black water to sneak in. Can anybody else other than us sneak in and out undetected?”

The prevailing silence answered her.

A smokey cough broke the stagnant silence. Liddie took her eyes off the street to address Autumn.

“So, we deal with the towers, fine, but how are they meant to get into the water? There are few ways into the river, and the guards patrol all the paths that do. Guards that’ll be looking for us.”

“Yeah,” Autumn sighed, “I thought of that too. We’ll have to enter through the harbor.”

Eme started. “But that’s…” she trailed off.

Sensing her unasked question, Autumn nodded. “Beside the slave bazaar, I know.”

At her words, the atmosphere of the room grew heavier, falling over the group like a weighted blanket. Knuckles tensed white as eyes grew taut. Restless legs tapped a steady, nervous rhythm out on the stained floorboards.

“That’s the second part of my plan…well, first really.”

Eyes that’d locked onto the ground in anger and frustration rose to meet hers. Autumn swallowed.

“We start a riot. Or well…”

In the somber gloom of a dark-lit room, dark orbs met with burning eyes of orange. With a gleaming grin, she met the berserker’s hope within, who sought retribution for mortal sin. Bloodthirsty was her gaze, as rage ran ablaze. And in the silence of a witch’s words unsaid, Nethlia’s words, if heard, would provoke dread, as they spoke of bloodshed.

“…a slave revolt,” she said.

----------------------------------------

Blood gleamed wetly upon the cobblestones.

Hidden away in the dimly lit stable, the sticky crimson had pooled beneath the fallen drow who’d foolishly sought the armored knight. And as the party dragged the looted bodies away towards an isolated stall, they left behind long streaks of red in their wake.

Unceremoniously, the party piled the dead into the lone stable and hid them beneath a blanket of moldy hay and rotten cloth. And onto the liquid signs of violence, they poured a heavy shroud of sawdust, concealing the scene from an initial perusal.

Shadows pooled around Autumn’s feet as she weaved her magic of fright and fancy back into the bleached bones of her skeletal horses. In darkness, she cloaked them — even grimmer than before.

Her wand roared its dissatisfaction in her hand, but Autumn was having none of it. She exerted her will upon the stubborn wand, forcing it to bend to her dominance. With a strange contentedness flowing off of it, it bowed to its wilful wielder.

With her slightly necromantic task complete, Autumn cast her gaze back across the stable to where Nethlia and Eme lurked. The pair were holding a quiet conversation. Whatever Nethlia was saying to the somber catgirl seemed to cheer her up somewhat, drawing a faint smile to her lips.

Autumn turned back to the dragonbone sleigh, her own smile tugging on her lips. She felt reassured that Nethlia was there for their bard.

Wandering over, Nelva stopped beside Autumn and dumped her pack into the sleigh before tying it down with a length of hempen rope. As she did so, the cloth covering her mirror shield slipped, revealing its shattered surface. The fragmented reflections of dark-eyed and world-weary witches stared back at Autumn as she glanced within.

Nelva covered the surface back up.

“How are you doing?”

Autumn jumped slightly at the sudden question. She turned her gaze towards Nelva, awkwardly meeting her eyes.

“Um, good? I’m good. Just slightly nervous about what’s coming, I guess.”

Nelva held Autumn’s gaze with a seriousness. “I wasn’t talking about that. How are you doing after killing someone?”

Autumn flinched. She turned her gaze away from Nelva as her ears burned with a choking shame. Idly, she picked at the fraying threads of the rope that bound their gear. Beside her, Nelva stood calmly, waiting for her to speak.

Wetting her lips, Autumn reluctantly spoke. “I’m fine.”

“There’s no shame in crying,” Nelva said, nodding towards Eme. “You don’t see her any less for it, do you?”

Autumn shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s just that…I didn’t.” She clenched her teeth in frustration. “I felt nothing…it was just like killing monsters.”

“That’s normal.”

At Nelva’s words, Autumn whipped her head towards the chevalier. Shock colored her features. She asked in disbelief, “it is?”

Nelva met her look calmly.

“Sure it is. You’re still in the moment — it hasn’t sunk in for you yet. Once you have nothing more to focus on, when you have a moment to breathe, then it’ll hit you. I’m a bit like you in this case; the first time I killed a bandit, I felt nothing until much later. I thought I was just a callous individual until I could stop my hands from shaking when I went to sleep.”

“So, I’m not strange?” Autumn asked hopefully.

Nelva laughed. “Sorry mon ami, but you are certainly an outlandish individual, in both dress and temperament. But, in this, you aren’t so different.”

“You didn’t have to put it that way,” Autumn huffed.

“Sometimes the truth is harsh.”

Autumn rolled her eyes at Nelva’s gentle teasing. Together, they packed the rest of the party’s gear into the sleigh, lashing it down tight. As they were doing so, Pyre approached them with a pair of potions in hand.

“Here, these are for the both of you; a healing potion along with a rock-skin. Hopefully, you won’t need it, but just in case.”

With a thankful smile, Autumn slipped hers into her belt.

“Did you get those herbs and ingredients you were after?”

Pyre nodded. “Yeah, thankfully I did. That reminds me; can I use your black cauldron later, along with the stuff you took from the necromancer’s tower? I want to make a few new potions and refill my supplies before we get to the hag’s abode.”

“Oh, sure!” Autumn chirped. “Once we’re out of the city, just tell me. We should be able to stop along the way, or we could try to make room on the sleigh.”

“I don’t know about that,” Pyre grimaced. “You really don’t want to make potions on an unstable surface. Especially the explosive ones.”

Autumn blanched. “R-right. Fair point.”

“We all ready to go?” Nethlia called out, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Yeah,” Autumn replied. “Just need to lash bleak-bones one and two here up.” She pointed to the pair of skeletal horses. “Then we’re all set to go!”

Nethlia chuckled at her names for the grim horses. In moments, they were ready, pulling the sleigh towards the exit to the dark stable. And as they stopped just before that yawning exit, Nethlia turned towards the rest of the party, her iron pole-hammer resting upon her shoulder. Her fanged grin shone in the dark.

“I hope this city is ready for us, cause we ain’t stopping for anyone. For too long, they’ve held chains and whips. It’s time for them to feel the bite of repressed. Now, let’s see what they have in store for us, shall we?”

And onto the gloaming streets they strode — blood and fury soon following.