“Oh,” the Tertius added, “and when we meet with the magistrate, allow me to do the talking. He will need to be properly managed.”
The sisters nodded assent, and they continued on, arriving at the largest long-house in the village, with smoke pouring out from its chimney. The smells of roasted pig and tubers wafted out from inside, along with the sounds of cooking and cleaning. Titas rapped on the door with the pommel of his great Marukke spatha. The irregular wooden gate was pulled open, and a woman answered the door, dressed in a long woolen frock, simple and warm.
“Dominus,” she said in her accented Caeran, bowing. “I will get the magistrate for you.”
“Thank you, matrona,” Titas said, returning her bow.
The three of them waited patiently outside until they heard the clamor of a large man hurriedly coming out to meet them. A curse wafted out into the open air as something clattered to the floor inside. Moments later, he appeared, stepping out into the street in a fine Caeran toga, which was dirtied with mud at its bottom and ill-wrapped around the wearer. The magistrate’s hair was disheveled and shaggy, and it seemed that he had not shaved in several days.
“By the gods! It’s colder than Pona’s cunt out here, isn’t it?” he said, shivering and rubbing his hands together. He looked at Titas’ blank face, and realized what he had said. “Ah, yes, of course, I don’t suppose you would be able to tell, would you? Well, never mind, never mind, it’s excellent that you are all finally here. We have much to discuss! Will you come inside and share in our supper? These barbarian women are quite talented cooks, I must say.”
“With respect, magistrate, we would rather make this brief. It will be dark shortly and our hunt will commence. Please inform these two young ones of what’s been going on,” Titas said coldly.
“Ah yes, I suppose you would pursue at night, wouldn’t you?” he asked, pointing to his own eyes. Silence met him. “Well, never mind, never mind.” He turned towards the two sisters. “Well, first of all, my name is Numerias Fadianas Quarto Regulan Sanctus. Pleasure to meet you both.” The two sisters stared back silently, as instructed, at the disheveled official.
“Yes, well, you see, for some months now, the people of Seutonum have been reporting missing pigs, goats, and the like. At first we assumed it was simple rustlers from tribes beyond the border, but legionaries sent to investigate could find no evidence of them. I’m sure you will fare better, of course, but we let the issue stand for a while, not thinking much of it in Bivorum.
“Things started to get truly, truly strange when more animals went missing, but they began turning up again, slaughtered. Just left out to rot in the fields! Usually their hearts cut out or some such profanity. These simple farm people assumed it was a demon, or a ghost, or whatever nonsense they believe in. It was my educated assessment of the situation that perhaps cultists of Pona, or some other blasphemous gods, may have been using the animals for their rituals. Of course, we can’t stand for such barbarity now that this is part of the Republic, and I once again sent legionaries out to question the populace and deal with this menace,” he blathered, rushing through his words in the cold dusk.
“However, most unfortunately, nothing was found, and no one provided any useful evidence. I once again put the issue on hold, having no leads on the matter, but in the last month, no less than three men have disappeared while herding or hunting in the forests, and animals have started to go missing near Bivorum. Bivorum! Can you imagine?” he asked, positively shaking at the thought.
Auda and Josta stood quietly, waiting for the jowly man to continue.
“Well, of course you can’t, I’m sure!” he blustered. “It was clear that this was beginning to grow into a real problem, and my instincts informed me that perhaps a numinatus was at the heart of all this unholy business. You see, when I was a boy, I had a Colturan scholar as my personal tutor, my family being a branch of the Fabians, you know. In any case, he taught me much about numinati, and I recalled that they often use the organs of animals, and even human beings, in their horrific sacrifices. So, naturally, I put in a request to the Council, and here you are! So, will you be able to hunt the savage down and slay him?”
Titas looked over to Josta, nodding for her to respond, “Magistrate, with due respect, we will attempt to bring the man in to stand trial if he does indeed exist. However we are of the opinion that it is more likely simple bandits, or feral beasts,” she stated.
“Oh no, not you too?” he moaned, deflated. “I thought you would take me more seriously than this dour fellow they first sent me. That’s why I requested additional Scinderi, don’t you know? No one is taking me seriously outside of Bivorum! It’s simply inexcusable that—”
Titas moved a hand swiftly across the magistrate’s face, and the man went suddenly silent. He opened his mouth to speak again, but only a muffled gurgle came out.
“That’s enough from you, now. When we’ve put this supposed-witch down and come back to town, I will return your ability to speak. In the meantime, I shall hold your voice for safe-keeping. I’m sure you understand; what with a numinatus about, you wouldn’t want someone dangerous to steal it?”
Stricken and suddenly pale, the magistrate nodded, backing inside the long-house. Once past the threshold, he began quaking and quickly shut the door. Auda smiled, and Josta could not contain a chuckle.
“See little doves? I told you it would cheer your spirits. And now you know the sort of man that we must deal with in our line of work. They are thoroughly useless, but the Council demands that we honor their requests for aid. It is maddening, but such is the life of a weapon of the state.”
“They can’t all be so bad, can they?” Auda asked.
“On the contrary, you will find that the esteemed Numerias is one of the better servants of our fine Republic. But enough of politics. Night falls, and it’s time for us to make our way to the site of the most recent disappearance.” Titas grinned and looked back at the two young Scinderi. “Do try to keep up with this old man.”
With that, Titas took off down the path leading out of the darkening village. Auda barely had time to register the Tertius’ astonishing speed before he was already past the town wall. The sisters sprinted after him, their hoods flying back in the wind as they left the village, flying through the ferns and vines of the forest, ducking under boughs and hurdling logs as they kept after their fleet-footed tutor. Auda grinned madly—the grace, the speed, the power of it all was intoxicating. She dug her stiff sandals into the soft earth and pushed off with all the force she could muster, practically gliding over the forest floor. They ran, and as they ran the last rays of sunlight left the forest. Stars emerged, seen in glimpses through the thick canopy of needles and leaves, and the moon began her slow ascent from down on the horizon, below the Apis mountains. The darkness meant nothing to Auda. She could see clearer than ever, clearer than when she still had eyes. She felt the forest again, all the divine potential woven into leaf and fan and trunk. She touched the numina with her mind; she touched it with her whole body. The forest guided her towards the Tertius, who came back into view in the middle of a small clearing, waiting patiently. The two sisters came to a sudden halt, panting.
Titas smiled. “Not bad, little doves. You will grow faster with age, do not worry. Now, since this is your first official mission from the Council, tell me of the numina in this clearing. What do you blind soldiers see?”
Josta regained her breath first, and spoke. “Growth, growth most of all. I can feel the potential of so many seedlings, all with the numina to grow into great old trees.”
“Yes, that is the dominant strain in a place like this. But what do you see that can guide us towards our quarry?” Titas pressed.
Auda spoke next, “I see the potential for death, almost as strong. All these living things struggling to survive, and not all of them will. But, somewhere I feel the potential for discovery. There is something here that can lead us.”
“Yes, that’s correct. Come closer, you two. Feel the ground, here,” he said, bending over and putting his hands in the soft earth.
“Blood,” Josta said. Auda nodded gravely.
“Yes. Invisible to the eye, weeks old and in dark earth. But it has the numina of old blood all the same—and that is a numina you shall never forget. You will see far too much of it in this service,” Titas said, frowning. “Follow it, doves. Lead me towards our prey, but be silent, and be prepared.”
Auda and Josta looked at each other, and nodded. They both drew their great black blades, and stepped softly through the clearing, following the trail of caked blood back into the forest. Titas followed close behind, a whisper in the darkness, his spatha reflecting glints of starlight. Cloaked in grey and silent on the move, the three of them were practically undetectable—Auda knew that their prey would never see them coming. The three Scinderi stalked through the forest, following the gory trail.
They followed the blood for some time; Auda lost track in the tense darkness. She began to wonder how much longer the trail could go on for—surely the man who had left it would be exsanguinated after such a distance. She became unsettled at the thought of it. Who had been dragging this bleeding, dying man through the forest like this? Why? Any place in the last quarter mile would have been a suitable place to dispose of the body, away from prying eyes. Just as the question passed over her, they came to it—the crumpled, mauled corpse.
“Politor preserve us,” Josta whispered.
Titas moved past the two young women, squatting down by the dead body. “Perhaps our dear magistrate was not so wrong after all,” he rasped, grimacing.
The body had been contorted horribly—his spine snapped clean through, the hunter’s legs now rested limply against his own back, with the feet under his head. The torso had been ripped open, and the organs removed. His arms were angled in an unnatural fashion that made Auda sick to her stomach. Titas’ spider fingers pried the man’s eyelids open. Dead green eyes stared back at them.
“This is bad. Very bad,” he whispered. “Two weeks dead and no animals have eaten out the eyes. This body is coursing with magic. The forest won’t touch it. Do you—”
They all started at once. Auda felt it, deep in her core. The thing that had grasped out at her on the road, in the afternoon. It was real. It was watching them. The potential she had felt then was for danger.
Titas stood up, silently. He slid his hand across the great Marukke sword he wielded, and the weapon vanished, invisible in his hand. Auda and Josta wordlessly followed suit—their blades disappearing from sight in an instant. Auda had spent a great deal of time learning to wield an invisible blade, a blade no defender could prepare against, and she was confident in her abilities. Titas’ cloak was the first to billow out into shimmering shadow, enveloping his body in a shifting, moving blackness that obscured his movements. The three blind soldiers, wrapped in darkness, wielding invisible steel, spread apart from each other. Titas inched forward, his jaw clenched in grim resolve. It was then that they all heard it. Buzzing. It was faint at first—like the far-off sound of a cicada, calling out for its mate. The sound grew, slowly at first, rising from a whisper to the volume of a human voice, to a ringing din that filled the whole forest.
“What is that?” Josta yelled over the noise, frightened.
Titas held up his left fist, commanding her to silence. The noise was still growing louder, becoming deafening, resounding, maddening. It seemed as if every corner of the forest was alive with the screeching wail of a horde of furious insects.
In an instant, it stopped.
“Run!” Titas bellowed.
Auda wasn’t sure what she saw first. Maybe it was the mouths, the hideous, laughing mouths—or maybe it was the huge timber arm that burst through Titas’ back, slick with black ichor. Maybe it was the limbs, the dozens of them, like trunks of trees, huge and ungodly long and reaching through the forest for her. She ran. Josta right behind her, the sisters ran through the forest faster than they knew they could move. The horrible inhuman laughter followed them, all those screaming mouths chattering in an arcane language that Auda could not understand. It was everywhere, and tears were streaming down her face, but she ran. Just as they neared the clearing, Auda heard something behind them, only steps away and gaining. She turned to face it, to die fighting, but she was bowled over in blackness.
She waited to feel it kill her, to burst through her chest and rip out her unbeating heart.
“Get up!” Titas yelled.
Auda looked around her, shocked—there was the Tertius, a gaping hole the size of a birch trunk blown though his torso, standing and ordering her to do the same.
“I thought—” she started.
“I refuse to die as easily as that,” he hissed, onyx fluid gurgling up through his mouth. “I am Scinderus. I am deathless,” he spat. “Listen, I will hold that monster here, in this clearing. You must go and secure the village. Evacuate Seutonum. The civilians need to get out of the forest, now!”
“What about Josta?” she begged.
“Forget your sister! She will survive, she is Scindera. You must protect the village! Go now!”
The howling laughter grew louder—she knew there was no choice. Auda left him there, knowing that he would die. Deathless—if only it were true. That unspeakable thing surely had the magic to restore in Titas the ability to die, the ability that the Council had revoked when it made him a Scinderus. Whatever that creature was, it was not a numinatus. It was far, far worse.
As she fled through the pitch black of the forest, she heard a wail go up—a piercing cry of pain. At least he would die fighting, she thought. It seemed only moments had passed when she heard another such cry—but this time, she knew it was Josta’s. Auda wanted to stop, to fall down to her knees and cry. She wanted to scream out to the gods in fury and blasphemy—she had only wanted to serve the Republic, what had she done to deserve this? But there was no time for such questions. She could only run. Run and run and try to reach the village before those things did. No matter how fast she flew through the trees, the laughter followed.
Finally, as she came to the edge of the forest, she smelled the smoke of the fire.
“No. No, no, no,” she whispered, the tears flowing again.
She pressed on, knowing full well what she would find. The village was a towering blaze, columns of thick black smoke billowing up into the night sky. Auda ran down the thoroughfare, calling out for survivors, calling out for anyone. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Torn open, torn apart, mauled and crushed and profaned in every conceivable way. She slowed, turning down one of the alleys, still searching. That was where she saw him, the boy from before. He was there in the mud of the street, moving. Auda ran to him, hoping, praying. She saw him there, writhing, in a pool of blood, holding his chest where the wound was. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Why hadn’t the Council taught her how to revoke the potential for death? Why hadn’t they given her the power to save him? She held him, cradling his head, cooing softly to him as the life drained from his ashen face. It was never supposed to be like this. Then she heard it again—it wasn’t until she heard it again that she even realized it had stopped. That horrible laughter had returned.
Not like this.
She looked down, and there it was. The gnarled, clawed hand, thick and knotted and covered in bark. She could feel where it entered her back and where it emerged through her ribs. As her lids began to close, she felt death’s potential flowing back into her body. Everything grew so dim, so distant. The possibilities of the world were drifting away from her, becoming obscured. The boy in her arms had stopped moving.
Not like this.
The sisters nodded assent, and they continued on, arriving at the largest long-house in the village, with smoke pouring out from its chimney. The smells of roasted pig and tubers wafted out from inside, along with the sounds of cooking and cleaning. Titas rapped on the door with the pommel of his great Marukke spatha. The irregular wooden gate was pulled open, and a woman answered the door, dressed in a long woolen frock, simple and warm.
“Dominus,” she said in her accented Caeran, bowing. “I will get the magistrate for you.”
“Thank you, matrona,” Titas said, returning her bow.
The three of them waited patiently outside until they heard the clamor of a large man hurriedly coming out to meet them. A curse wafted out into the open air as something clattered to the floor inside. Moments later, he appeared, stepping out into the street in a fine Caeran toga, which was dirtied with mud at its bottom and ill-wrapped around the wearer. The magistrate’s hair was disheveled and shaggy, and it seemed that he had not shaved in several days.
“By the gods! It’s colder than Pona’s cunt out here, isn’t it?” he said, shivering and rubbing his hands together. He looked at Titas’ blank face, and realized what he had said. “Ah, yes, of course, I don’t suppose you would be able to tell, would you? Well, never mind, never mind, it’s excellent that you are all finally here. We have much to discuss! Will you come inside and share in our supper? These barbarian women are quite talented cooks, I must say.”
“With respect, magistrate, we would rather make this brief. It will be dark shortly and our hunt will commence. Please inform these two young ones of what’s been going on,” Titas said coldly.
“Ah yes, I suppose you would pursue at night, wouldn’t you?” he asked, pointing to his own eyes. Silence met him. “Well, never mind, never mind.” He turned towards the two sisters. “Well, first of all, my name is Numerias Fadianas Quarto Regulan Sanctus. Pleasure to meet you both.” The two sisters stared back silently, as instructed, at the disheveled official.
“Yes, well, you see, for some months now, the people of Seutonum have been reporting missing pigs, goats, and the like. At first we assumed it was simple rustlers from tribes beyond the border, but legionaries sent to investigate could find no evidence of them. I’m sure you will fare better, of course, but we let the issue stand for a while, not thinking much of it in Bivorum.
“Things started to get truly, truly strange when more animals went missing, but they began turning up again, slaughtered. Just left out to rot in the fields! Usually their hearts cut out or some such profanity. These simple farm people assumed it was a demon, or a ghost, or whatever nonsense they believe in. It was my educated assessment of the situation that perhaps cultists of Pona, or some other blasphemous gods, may have been using the animals for their rituals. Of course, we can’t stand for such barbarity now that this is part of the Republic, and I once again sent legionaries out to question the populace and deal with this menace,” he blathered, rushing through his words in the cold dusk.
“However, most unfortunately, nothing was found, and no one provided any useful evidence. I once again put the issue on hold, having no leads on the matter, but in the last month, no less than three men have disappeared while herding or hunting in the forests, and animals have started to go missing near Bivorum. Bivorum! Can you imagine?” he asked, positively shaking at the thought.
Auda and Josta stood quietly, waiting for the jowly man to continue.
“Well, of course you can’t, I’m sure!” he blustered. “It was clear that this was beginning to grow into a real problem, and my instincts informed me that perhaps a numinatus was at the heart of all this unholy business. You see, when I was a boy, I had a Colturan scholar as my personal tutor, my family being a branch of the Fabians, you know. In any case, he taught me much about numinati, and I recalled that they often use the organs of animals, and even human beings, in their horrific sacrifices. So, naturally, I put in a request to the Council, and here you are! So, will you be able to hunt the savage down and slay him?”
Titas looked over to Josta, nodding for her to respond, “Magistrate, with due respect, we will attempt to bring the man in to stand trial if he does indeed exist. However we are of the opinion that it is more likely simple bandits, or feral beasts,” she stated.
“Oh no, not you too?” he moaned, deflated. “I thought you would take me more seriously than this dour fellow they first sent me. That’s why I requested additional Scinderi, don’t you know? No one is taking me seriously outside of Bivorum! It’s simply inexcusable that—”
Titas moved a hand swiftly across the magistrate’s face, and the man went suddenly silent. He opened his mouth to speak again, but only a muffled gurgle came out.
“That’s enough from you, now. When we’ve put this supposed-witch down and come back to town, I will return your ability to speak. In the meantime, I shall hold your voice for safe-keeping. I’m sure you understand; what with a numinatus about, you wouldn’t want someone dangerous to steal it?”
Stricken and suddenly pale, the magistrate nodded, backing inside the long-house. Once past the threshold, he began quaking and quickly shut the door. Auda smiled, and Josta could not contain a chuckle.
“See little doves? I told you it would cheer your spirits. And now you know the sort of man that we must deal with in our line of work. They are thoroughly useless, but the Council demands that we honor their requests for aid. It is maddening, but such is the life of a weapon of the state.”
“They can’t all be so bad, can they?” Auda asked.
“On the contrary, you will find that the esteemed Numerias is one of the better servants of our fine Republic. But enough of politics. Night falls, and it’s time for us to make our way to the site of the most recent disappearance.” Titas grinned and looked back at the two young Scinderi. “Do try to keep up with this old man.”
With that, Titas took off down the path leading out of the darkening village. Auda barely had time to register the Tertius’ astonishing speed before he was already past the town wall. The sisters sprinted after him, their hoods flying back in the wind as they left the village, flying through the ferns and vines of the forest, ducking under boughs and hurdling logs as they kept after their fleet-footed tutor. Auda grinned madly—the grace, the speed, the power of it all was intoxicating. She dug her stiff sandals into the soft earth and pushed off with all the force she could muster, practically gliding over the forest floor. They ran, and as they ran the last rays of sunlight left the forest. Stars emerged, seen in glimpses through the thick canopy of needles and leaves, and the moon began her slow ascent from down on the horizon, below the Apis mountains. The darkness meant nothing to Auda. She could see clearer than ever, clearer than when she still had eyes. She felt the forest again, all the divine potential woven into leaf and fan and trunk. She touched the numina with her mind; she touched it with her whole body. The forest guided her towards the Tertius, who came back into view in the middle of a small clearing, waiting patiently. The two sisters came to a sudden halt, panting.
Titas smiled. “Not bad, little doves. You will grow faster with age, do not worry. Now, since this is your first official mission from the Council, tell me of the numina in this clearing. What do you blind soldiers see?”
Josta regained her breath first, and spoke. “Growth, growth most of all. I can feel the potential of so many seedlings, all with the numina to grow into great old trees.”
“Yes, that is the dominant strain in a place like this. But what do you see that can guide us towards our quarry?” Titas pressed.
Auda spoke next, “I see the potential for death, almost as strong. All these living things struggling to survive, and not all of them will. But, somewhere I feel the potential for discovery. There is something here that can lead us.”
“Yes, that’s correct. Come closer, you two. Feel the ground, here,” he said, bending over and putting his hands in the soft earth.
“Blood,” Josta said. Auda nodded gravely.
“Yes. Invisible to the eye, weeks old and in dark earth. But it has the numina of old blood all the same—and that is a numina you shall never forget. You will see far too much of it in this service,” Titas said, frowning. “Follow it, doves. Lead me towards our prey, but be silent, and be prepared.”
Auda and Josta looked at each other, and nodded. They both drew their great black blades, and stepped softly through the clearing, following the trail of caked blood back into the forest. Titas followed close behind, a whisper in the darkness, his spatha reflecting glints of starlight. Cloaked in grey and silent on the move, the three of them were practically undetectable—Auda knew that their prey would never see them coming. The three Scinderi stalked through the forest, following the gory trail.
They followed the blood for some time; Auda lost track in the tense darkness. She began to wonder how much longer the trail could go on for—surely the man who had left it would be exsanguinated after such a distance. She became unsettled at the thought of it. Who had been dragging this bleeding, dying man through the forest like this? Why? Any place in the last quarter mile would have been a suitable place to dispose of the body, away from prying eyes. Just as the question passed over her, they came to it—the crumpled, mauled corpse.
“Politor preserve us,” Josta whispered.
Titas moved past the two young women, squatting down by the dead body. “Perhaps our dear magistrate was not so wrong after all,” he rasped, grimacing.
The body had been contorted horribly—his spine snapped clean through, the hunter’s legs now rested limply against his own back, with the feet under his head. The torso had been ripped open, and the organs removed. His arms were angled in an unnatural fashion that made Auda sick to her stomach. Titas’ spider fingers pried the man’s eyelids open. Dead green eyes stared back at them.
“This is bad. Very bad,” he whispered. “Two weeks dead and no animals have eaten out the eyes. This body is coursing with magic. The forest won’t touch it. Do you—”
They all started at once. Auda felt it, deep in her core. The thing that had grasped out at her on the road, in the afternoon. It was real. It was watching them. The potential she had felt then was for danger.
Titas stood up, silently. He slid his hand across the great Marukke sword he wielded, and the weapon vanished, invisible in his hand. Auda and Josta wordlessly followed suit—their blades disappearing from sight in an instant. Auda had spent a great deal of time learning to wield an invisible blade, a blade no defender could prepare against, and she was confident in her abilities. Titas’ cloak was the first to billow out into shimmering shadow, enveloping his body in a shifting, moving blackness that obscured his movements. The three blind soldiers, wrapped in darkness, wielding invisible steel, spread apart from each other. Titas inched forward, his jaw clenched in grim resolve. It was then that they all heard it. Buzzing. It was faint at first—like the far-off sound of a cicada, calling out for its mate. The sound grew, slowly at first, rising from a whisper to the volume of a human voice, to a ringing din that filled the whole forest.
“What is that?” Josta yelled over the noise, frightened.
Titas held up his left fist, commanding her to silence. The noise was still growing louder, becoming deafening, resounding, maddening. It seemed as if every corner of the forest was alive with the screeching wail of a horde of furious insects.
In an instant, it stopped.
“Run!” Titas bellowed.
Auda wasn’t sure what she saw first. Maybe it was the mouths, the hideous, laughing mouths—or maybe it was the huge timber arm that burst through Titas’ back, slick with black ichor. Maybe it was the limbs, the dozens of them, like trunks of trees, huge and ungodly long and reaching through the forest for her. She ran. Josta right behind her, the sisters ran through the forest faster than they knew they could move. The horrible inhuman laughter followed them, all those screaming mouths chattering in an arcane language that Auda could not understand. It was everywhere, and tears were streaming down her face, but she ran. Just as they neared the clearing, Auda heard something behind them, only steps away and gaining. She turned to face it, to die fighting, but she was bowled over in blackness.
She waited to feel it kill her, to burst through her chest and rip out her unbeating heart.
“Get up!” Titas yelled.
Auda looked around her, shocked—there was the Tertius, a gaping hole the size of a birch trunk blown though his torso, standing and ordering her to do the same.
“I thought—” she started.
“I refuse to die as easily as that,” he hissed, onyx fluid gurgling up through his mouth. “I am Scinderus. I am deathless,” he spat. “Listen, I will hold that monster here, in this clearing. You must go and secure the village. Evacuate Seutonum. The civilians need to get out of the forest, now!”
“What about Josta?” she begged.
“Forget your sister! She will survive, she is Scindera. You must protect the village! Go now!”
The howling laughter grew louder—she knew there was no choice. Auda left him there, knowing that he would die. Deathless—if only it were true. That unspeakable thing surely had the magic to restore in Titas the ability to die, the ability that the Council had revoked when it made him a Scinderus. Whatever that creature was, it was not a numinatus. It was far, far worse.
As she fled through the pitch black of the forest, she heard a wail go up—a piercing cry of pain. At least he would die fighting, she thought. It seemed only moments had passed when she heard another such cry—but this time, she knew it was Josta’s. Auda wanted to stop, to fall down to her knees and cry. She wanted to scream out to the gods in fury and blasphemy—she had only wanted to serve the Republic, what had she done to deserve this? But there was no time for such questions. She could only run. Run and run and try to reach the village before those things did. No matter how fast she flew through the trees, the laughter followed.
Finally, as she came to the edge of the forest, she smelled the smoke of the fire.
“No. No, no, no,” she whispered, the tears flowing again.
She pressed on, knowing full well what she would find. The village was a towering blaze, columns of thick black smoke billowing up into the night sky. Auda ran down the thoroughfare, calling out for survivors, calling out for anyone. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Torn open, torn apart, mauled and crushed and profaned in every conceivable way. She slowed, turning down one of the alleys, still searching. That was where she saw him, the boy from before. He was there in the mud of the street, moving. Auda ran to him, hoping, praying. She saw him there, writhing, in a pool of blood, holding his chest where the wound was. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Why hadn’t the Council taught her how to revoke the potential for death? Why hadn’t they given her the power to save him? She held him, cradling his head, cooing softly to him as the life drained from his ashen face. It was never supposed to be like this. Then she heard it again—it wasn’t until she heard it again that she even realized it had stopped. That horrible laughter had returned.
Not like this.
She looked down, and there it was. The gnarled, clawed hand, thick and knotted and covered in bark. She could feel where it entered her back and where it emerged through her ribs. As her lids began to close, she felt death’s potential flowing back into her body. Everything grew so dim, so distant. The possibilities of the world were drifting away from her, becoming obscured. The boy in her arms had stopped moving.
Not like this.
