Night had fallen. The sound of her knife scraping against a stick echoed through the still darkness. She moved her blade back and forth, waiting for the small rabbit that sat upon the fire to be done cooking. The arrow she had just made wouldn't fly far but she didn't mind, she enjoyed stalking her prey closely.
"C'mon little buddy, how long will you make me wait?", the woman thought, her stomach rumbling. "I have to move...", hunting might have been fun but it wasn't cutting it anymore, food had only gotten scarcer ever since the arrival of the settlers.
She'd been living in this forest for the last four years, completely alone and even then, the forest wasn't entirely hers. Once, only caravans of merchants stumbled through the woods. She always kept her distance and made sure they found their way out but never in her life did she think that some would settle near her little slice of heaven.
In time, she put up effigies, hoping to scare off anyone who would wander into the woods but even that was of little use. "They must be doing well...", she figured while biting into the rabbit. Food might have been plentiful but come winter, the settlers were sure to strangle the life out of her forest. She figured she'd be gone way before the first snow hit. She laid back after she finished eating.
"How much farther must I run?", she asked herself. Her eyes grew heavy, she allowed herself to be taken by sleep.
Every day felt the same, each passed with little difference. Just a constant hunt for game, just an endless search for warmth. She struggled but, there was enjoyment to be found in the struggle.
Time passed, unhindered, but not for her. She didn't feel its passing, not at all. It seemed like even fate had forgotten about her but, that wasn't the case. Fate was merely bidding its time.
She left her den, a crude shelter of sticks and leaves, built under the shadow of a great tree.
As she made her way toward her usual hunting spot, the woman noticed a brush of black smoke tainting the clear sky. She paid little mind to the ill omen and advanced. Climbing up in her favorite tree, it didn't take long for her to fall asleep again.
Screams pierced the silent veil of the forest. She was startled awake, falling out of the tree and hitting her head on the way down. She moaned in pain as she sat upright. The woman looked around in confusion, not aware of what had happened or who was screaming, just before scrambling to her feet.
The screams persisted through the night and she allowed herself to be drawn by them, her heart getting more and more excited with each step she took forward. She made her way through the darkness of the woods, racing ahead and toward where the pained yelps were coming from.
They were echoing from a clearing. It was a spot where she set up a simple trap, one that bore fruit from time to time. She made her way through the bush, bow drawn, ready to defend herself if need be. Her heart raced with unusual excitement, one that she hasn't felt in a long time.
She saw something writhing on the ground, trying to break free of the hellish contraption that was wrapped around one its limbs. It lay there, spazzing in anguish, letting out cries and curses of all kinds.
A twig cracked underfoot as she stepped forward. The figure turned and a man's gaze met her's under the cover of the pale moon.
Little could be made out under the thin moonlight that squeezed through the foliage but that mattered not, something already caught her attention. Two little beads of darkness glimmered akin to two dark jewels, filled with fright and pain. It was raw and alluring, a sight that brought out something she thought herself free of, a desire and will that were not her own.
In that moment, something she despised with all of her being had awoken in her. Her hands trembled with an effort that was not her own, they moved without her permission.
She drew the string back even more before letting the arrow fly, her only goal to maim. The arrow embedded itself in the figure's shoulder, almost pinning him to the ground as his shriek pierced the silence that took hold of the night.
"No! Please! No more!", that was all he could muster between moans of anguish and pain, clawing at the arrow.
She pulled out another one out of her quiver, a crooked smile slowly curling upon her lips. She drew the string back once again, the bow bending as she did so, taking aim for his head. The man started begging and pleading for his life but the woman paid no mind to his desperate ramblings. Mad with blood, her mind was cavernous and empty, devoid of logic or reason.
Only one thing persisted. A thought lingering in the back of her psyche, one that seemed akin to a whisper lost upon long-forgotten winds, a thought that was not her's: "Only blood mends".
The hair on her neck stood up as she closed her eyes, her heart beating to the rhythm of a chaotic melody. She could tell she was no longer alone, his presence and gaze were urging her to release the string.
"No! Not again!", she thought as her arms shook under the pressure, a streak of cold sweat racing down her forehead as her whole being tensed. Her body was telling her to let go of the string, to succumb to her primal yearnings but her resolve endured.
She thought herself free of him. He didn't let go of her.
He never would.
The tension mounted with each passing second. She could feel him, his rancid claws scraping against her soul. The hands that lay upon the birch of the bow became cold and stiff, her fingers holding on in spite of their aching itch.
"I won't let you, not again...", she muttered before pulling even harder. The bow snapped in her hands but the pain in her being only grew.
She cast aside her broken weapon before falling to the ground, clutching her chest.
And then, he abandoned her as swiftly as he came. His gaze might have shifted from her but the punishment he laid out persisted. She lay there until the pain in her had subsided, getting up on unsteady feet.
The man's yelps and moans had faded into quiet sobbing. Laying on his side, he tried scurrying away like a rat as she stepped towards him."Please, no more...", he spoke, his eyes still aflame with fear and pain.
"Save your breath.", she snapped between ragged breaths, "And get a hold of yourself!". Any more of his pathetic display and she feared that she might lose herself again.
She knelt beside him, an ember of desire persisting within her crooked being. Upon a closer look, he looked more akin to a boy than a man.
"Please, I beg you...", he spoke in between shallow breaths, "...just help me.". Fear could be felt behind his words.
"Don't look at me.", she turned his head away with her foot, his eyes too desperate and fearful to gaze upon, "Why are you here?".
"It doesn't concern you...", he spoke, "Just get this thing damned off of me!".
"Wrong answer.", she pressed her foot on his head, making him squirm under her heel, "Tell me the truth and I might help you.".
"I am just a pilgrim!", he moaned, "Please...".
"Pilgrim you say?", she spoke, stepping aside, "And which god do you follow?".
"S-Saron. I f-follow his path.", he spoke as he sat up, gazing at the woman. His fear was slowly dying out and her brutish desire did so along with it, her breath steadying with each word spoken.
"Saronite?", she asked, her curiosity arisen. "Eager to walk his path?".
"Yes…"
"You won't make it far…"
"Who are you to say?", he contested, "Cut me free and you won't have to see me ever again.".
"If I do, you are sure to die along the way. Think your faith will get you far?", she chuckled, "Two days. That's all I give you before you meet your end. Maybe less.".
"How far along your path are you?".
"It can only start after I reach Alderan.", he muttered.
"That's pretty far...", she spoke, "How come you ended up going through the woods instead of keeping to the roads?".
"I was attacked...", he responded, "I was forced to flee...".
"And who attacked you?", she asked.
"There's a village farther up...", he spoke before shooting a stare behind him, "Those madmen drove me off. They rambled something as they gave chase. I don't know...please, just help me...".
"Can't say I blame them. You aren't a welcome sight.", she spoke before falling into silent contemplation. When she gazed upon the young man, she couldn't help but to be reminded of better days spent alongside better men.
"How do you know of the path?", he asked. She ignored his question, still lost in thought. He reminded her of the only person she ever cared about, of the promise she made to him in his last moments.
Doubt gnawed at her. Should she take that old path again? What if it ends the same way it did before?What if "he" forces her hand again?
She shook her head in disapproval. "I am my own master now!", she tried to convince herself.
She knelt beside him, unsheathing her knife with trembling hands. She cut him free of the trap that ensnared him, figuring it was time to honor the promise she made to her old friend. She picked the man up and draped him over her shoulders. He didn't try to fight her.
"You better not make me regret this later...", she spoke as she started waddling forward.
They walked in silence. The woman would have thought he kicked the bucket if not for the fact that she could feel his heart beating out of his chest.
She walked and walked, unhindered by the darkness. Still, that strange feeling of doubt persisted. Even as she reached her den, it did not give any way. She laid down the young man in her makeshift cottage. He passed out along the way, albeit if it was from exhaustion or blood loss she couldn't tell.
She stepped away after patching up his wounds, wandering into the bush without a clear goal in mind. She did so in order to tire herself out, knowing that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep after what had just transpired.
She returned to her spot, leaning down against her favorite tree. The feeling from before had not yet been stifled, it lingered still.
It was what drove her to help the young man, that and the promise she made to an old friend. It was a strange mix of dreadful familiarity that she couldn't make heads nor tails of.
"I almost did it again...", her hands were curled up into two fists, "No, he made me do it again. When will I finally be free…?".She closed her eyes and her world became dark, but her thoughts did not relent. One thought kept persisting: "I'll make everything right...".
He awoke on a bed of grass and leaves, the smell of damp moss invading his nostrils with a whiff of familiarity and comfort. He rubbed his eyes before struggling to get up, almost falling back down. He stepped out of the den.
It was dark, darker than he had expected. Looking up, he could see that the sky had been eaten up by an arch of green that loomed just overhead. A small campfire lay unlit just a few steps ahead, a basket and a rack lying beside it.
The crown of branches and leaves belonged to a great tree, a willow-like splendor whose maine drenched its surroundings in its peaceful shadow. Its bark, dark and thick, was dotted with green and purple and blue. These clumps of color spread across its trunk in sporadic patterns, dripping every which way in an attempt to take up as much space as possible. The great willow's extremities dripped from its top to its bottom, creating a dome of green that spanned tens of meters in diameter, a dome under which all kinds of flowers and mushrooms grew.
He walked forward on unsteady feet, his steps laboured and heavy. He laid his hand upon the tree, upon its bark and then, upon a clump of purple moss. It felt wet in between his thin fingers. Walking away, he stepped onto something a bit squishy.
Stumbling backwards and looking down, he saw two beady little eyes gaze back at him. He had stepped onto a frog. With its mouth open and its head peering upwards, it was ready for a confrontation. It was very stout. Its sleek skin was sickly green, dark spots dotting across the entirety of its back. His eyes wandered from the frog between his feet to something that had caught his attention.
He pulled up the torn ankle of his pants, inspecting the raggedy bandage that was set upon his calf. The wound did not ache nor did it pulsate nor did it itch nor did his shoulder, which made him question what exactly did that strange woman use to clean and treat his injuries. His anxiety from the night before was lingering still, sending jolts of unease for every moment he wasted without making his way out of this forest.
Despite that, he chose to stay for just a little bit longer, wanting the chance to talk to the woman once more. Kneeling beside the unlit fire, he contemplated his situation with a series of scattered thoughts, the rumbling of his stomach breaking the stillness of the grove. He stole a glance towards the basket to his right, a flimsy thing weaved out of the dried branches of the great tree. Fruit lay in it, of all shapes and sizes, some familiar and were not. In spite of his hunger, he would have never taken the fruits of someone else's labor, he was taught better than that.
He sat in prayer. That's how his afternoon was spent, that's how most of his days were spent ever since leaving the temple he called home. It helped him relax, it helped him think more clearly and that is exactly what he needed right now."How in Nevermore will I reach Alderan?", he asked the heavens, but the heavens ignored him.
"Dusk...where have you went?", he asked aloud before sighing, "Why did you have to go?".
By the end of the afternoon, the woman had returned. Heavy steps rang out against the still background of the woods up until she stepped through the bounds of the green dome. She walked with a slight limp, a deer draped across her shoulders. The young man watched on as she approached, each step she took closer sending him shivers, his heart growing erratic just by looking at her.
"I-I am glad to see you again.", he spoke, doing his best to not stumble on his words. She tossed down her kill beside the unlit fire without uttering any words.
"Thank you for not leaving me for dead.", he continued. She took out her knife from under her furs, burying it into the carcass without giving his words any attention.
She slowly carved the poor animal. The man watched on, a sense of nausea taking hold of his aching tummy. He eventually turned his gaze from the animal and onto the woman.
Her features were sharp and rugged, her cheeks sunk and her nose thin. Brown hair flew down from the top of her head, covering half of her dome whereas the other half was shaven. She lit the fire aflame, her eyes shimmering with a shade of pale brown. "Here.", she handed him a piece of meat impaled on one of her arrows.
"Thank you.", he took it from her bloody hands.
"Hold it over the fire, idiot.", she spoke without looking at him.
He wanted to break his gaze away from her but he couldn't, his heart wouldn't allow such a thing to happen.
"Are you just going to stare at me all night?", she asked, impaling a second piece of meat and raising it over the fire.
"Yes.", his mouth responded without his consent.
Her eyes met his by the fire's light. "Want me to hit you?", she asked.
He shook his head.
"Then stop staring.".
Some time passed by without any words being shared between the two of them. Dawn waited until the meat above the flame had turned brown on the outside, eating it with haste. The taste that filled his mouth was bland, nothing akin to the food he was used to before leaving for the road but it was better than nothing. There was one problem however, his stomach still yearned for more.
He put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "May I have another?".
She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Then, her lips curled up into a smirk. "You're still hungry?".
"Yes. I am.", he smiled back.
"And what can you give me in return?".
"Nothing.", he responded.
"Nothing?".
"Yes.", he nodded, "Nothing. I have nothing to give you that you would find of value so you will get nothing.".
"Fair enough. You're worthless...", her smile withdrew, her face stern as a thin silence set between them.
The fire crackled, filling the silent void between them. He turned his gaze away and towards the fire, watching the orange shades wiggle and writhe in chaotic harmony. The distinct streaks of warmth twirled and swirled akin to dancers, stuck in a passionate yet short-lived dance.
"I know.", she spoke, a slight smile returning, "You might have nothing to offer me but that doesn't mean you can't pay me...".
"What do you mean?".
"You can pay me in words."
"Words?", he spoke while keeping his eyes on the fire that sat before him, "What good are words to you?".
"They are.", she nodded, "I carry them with me. Even when I am alone, they linger still…".
"And even after we cease being...", he muttered,"...they persist.".
"Yes. They do. And one such as you should know that.", her smile grew slightly softer, "Now, do you know any good stories?".
"I do.", he turned towards the woman, "I know plenty. My parents were story-tellers and I learned a lot from them.".
"Story-tellers?".
"Yes, they are...", he continued, "I grew up at a temple. People came and went and with them, they brought stories, stories that we got to listen to from time to time...".
"Oh, you're one of those...", she responded, "I heard they give you a new name once you become an acolyte, is that true?".
"I wouldn't be able to tell you since this is the only name I have ever known.", a bitter smile took hold of his lips.
"So, what did they name you?".
"Crimson Dawn.", he spoke, that bitter smile growing wider, "We were all named like that. Named after certain chapters of the old teachings.".
She chuckled lightly as the words left his mouth."I'll spare us both the embarrassment and I'll just call you Dawn. Why'd they name you after the old teachings?"
"I tried figuring that out as well but to no avail. I tried asking but my questions were ignored so I stopped caring altogether.", he sighed, "I never read old teachings either nor do I plan to. That's beside the point. I know plenty of stories. Which kind strikes your fancy?".
"No.", she responded.
"What do you mean no?", he asked.
"None of that interests me.", her voice was cold and dry, "I don't care for the words of another unless they are sitting right in front of me .So, I will ask you again. Do you know any good stories?".
Oh, like that...".He took a deep breath as he raised his head towards the sky. He saw darkness.
The dome of the great tree impeded any sliver of moonlight who tried invading their abode, shrowding the pair in darkness.It felt palpable, the dark that spread just beyond the orange flames that kept them warm. The cold gaze of the dark forced him to look away.
"I might have a story.", he gazed back at the woman, the voice behind his words quivering lightly.
"Let's hear it then.".
"It happened way back, I was but a child when I first saw it. Life at the temple was quiet, serene in many aspects and dull in others. We had our routine. We all awoke at the same time and we all headed to bed together as well. I can recall the endless afternoons spent alongside my brothers and sisters, playing on the stone pathways of our luscious garden.".
A thin smile curled upon his lips, his face awash with thoughts of old memories. The woman asked no questions but Dawn did not despair, he knew it takes time to draw someone into a story.
"Those were the days! Playing in front of the statue of Asha, the scorching sun beaming down at us as we swung wooden swords at each other. I really miss Asha, such a tender soul she had.".
"And who's this Asha you speak of?", she raised one eyebrow. She was slowly taking the bait.
"Asha was our patron. She was a paladin. A great one at that!", he began smiling wholeheartedly, "The temple had been erected by her family and thus, a statue of our benefactor was erected in turn. She never liked it. She would avoid it like the plague whenever she stopped by, but we loved it. Asha always told us stories, she always brought us sweets.", he spoke as he poked and prodded at the fire with a stick.
"I like to think I was her favorite. She wasn't around much but she was much more caring than the high-priestess could ever be...".
"Aha...", the woman nodded along before stifling a yawn.
"This took place after one of Asha's visits. The evening it all began was a fun one. We spent it by the light of the fireplace. All of the other children were huddled one by another on the floor as Asha sat and told us about her latest journey. I had the honor to sit in her lap as she recalled her adventure.", he kept his eyes on the twirling flames, "She spoke of her skill and her valor and we listened, our mouths hopelessly agape at the wonders she was spewing. She spoke and the hours passed, it wasn't long until the high-priestess was urging us to our room. All of us children slept in one room that was to be locked from the outside as soon we were all tucked in but, that night...".
Dawn fell silent for a moment, a drop of stray sweat rolling down his bare temple. He wiped it away with the cuff of his shirt before speaking again.
"That night something changed. Usually, after we were urged to sleep, the temple would fall silent but that night was different. For the first time in what seemed forever, something broke that silence we were so used to...", he continued, "That night, steps echoed through the halls of the temple. We weren't asleep when we heard it. Our initial reaction was surprise surprise that quickly changed to a burning curiosity. Just who was allowed to trod the grounds at night?".
He spoke as he recalled those moments, the surprise and the uncertainty borne from them, the questions sprung that would be left unanswered by the clergy.
"That kept happening. Whomever they may be, they kept walking around at night, their feet loud enough for us to hear and to wonder about. Then, o-one day, the steps stopped right by our door. We dared not to leave the comfort of our beds or to make ourselves known. We sat and waited with bated breath.", he spoke, unease brewing in the air, his hands clutching the fabric of his pants tightly, "The door pressed inwards as if something was pushing against it. It r-remained like that until the steps started again. They walked away with the same tired rhythm they always had. We spoke of this but no one believed us or even if they did, I doubt that they would have told us about "it".".
"Can we get to the point already?", she teased, a sly grin spreading across her lips. By that point, the woman had gotten comfortable. She lay on her side by the campfire, her face awash by the light of the orange dance that raged just a bit away. In spite of the words spoken, Dawn could feel her yearning to hear the entirety of his story.
"As children, our curiosity could be not quelled nor deterred. We hatched a plan, one that would finally reveal who was walking around when we were all supposed to be asleep.", a smile crossed his lips, "There was a staircase, you see. It sat opposite to our door and it was built in such a way that it left a small opening between itself and the floor. It was tight and narrow but someone small enough could wiggle in and out of it at will. I was granted the honor to be the one to hide there, seeing how I was old enough to be able to tell everyone what I saw yet small enough not to get myself stuck in there. Now, the only thing left to be done was for me to feign sickness all day so I could retreat to our room early.".
"But you didn't.", she guessed, "You went and hid in that hole, right?".
"Of course I did! I didn't like it one bit but refusing my siblings would only give them more reasons to pick on me. I hid and waited. My body grew numb by the time the high-priestess delivered the others to our room. I watched on as she closed the door behind my oldest brother, locking it before walking away in a hurry.", his smile slowly twisted with uncertainty, "How I wish I wasn't the one to hide.".
"Chop chop!", she spoke, "We don't have all night.".
"We do actually. I waited and waited but nothing. My body grew numb and my heart felt unsteady as time passed by. It felt strange, to be outside of our room during the night. No, it felt wrong. The air lay thick with a tension that I cannot hope to explain. It all felt so off, so strange, so different than what I was used to. The temple felt different, more threatening than I ever found it before.".
The woman kept her gaze locked onto Crimson Dawn, he had her full and undivided attention.
" Eventually, my eyes grew heavy and I could feel myself falling asleep. And then...", he gazed down at his trembling hands, fingers still wrapped around the lap of his pants, "Steps. The same old steps. Heavy and slow and tired. I closed my eyes, I wanted to sleep but my heart wouldn't allow it. It kept beating, louder and louder, harder and harder. With every step it took, I started to shake. I wanted to run but my body was frozen stiff, I had no choice but to close my eyes and pray, it was the only thing that came to my mind, the only thing that might drive my terror away. Even with my prayers, something drove my eyes open and I saw "it".".
He took in a deep breath. His eyes locked on his trembling clutches, his mind became blank and no words could come out of his mouth. He wanted to continue telling his tale but his body wouldn't allow it, the fear sprung from his recollections proved to be too much to handle.
He let go of the fabric trapped between his fingers, his hands stinging with the effort of holding on for so long. He felt his eyes tearing up with frustration and thus, he let his head fall onto his hands, doing all he could to hold himself together.
The woman did not speak but he could feel her eyes scanning him. He could feel her burning gaze. He took away his hands and shot a glance in her direction. She was sitting and looking at him, the look on her face was much the same as the one she had when she almost ended him. A small yet ominous smile took hold of her lips.
"Sorry for that...", he sighed.
"Nevermind that!", she hissed, leaning forward and bringing her face mere inches from his, "What did you see?".
"There's very few words I could use to explain or describe what I saw...", his hands still trembled, "It lives with me still.It goes where I go. No matter what I do, I cannot escape it.".
"I get it! But that doesn't answer my question.", she spoke as she took his hands, steadying them.
"You wouldn't!", he tried breaking away but her grip was firm, pulling him back even as he tried leaning away. He turned away, refusing to look at her.
"Look at me!", she took a hand and put it on his chin, guiding his head gently, his shaken gaze locking with her's once again. "Just talk. Not of what you saw, not of what you have been through. Just speak of anything!".
"What?", he let out between ragged breaths, his heart still unsteady.
"Just talk. I don't much like the silence...", she scoffed before letting go of his face.
Dawn wanted to speak but no words would come out. A storm of feelings raged inside the young man and he didn't know what to do. He wanted to stand up and run into the night but he couldn't, not in the condition he was in. Fear gripped him - of the past, the future and of the woman that sat before him.
"Don't talk then!", she scoffed again as she shot him a heavy stare, "Let's act like that didn't happen.I think you still owe me a story however, seeing how you don't seem able to finish telling that one. Know any other ones?".
He didn't respond. "You should have known better than to talk about that!", the voice in his head told him. The feelings that drove him to desperation countless times before dwindled slowly only for regret and embarrassment to take their place. "Why can't you do anything right?", the voice insisted. "You always mess up. Does the high-priestess believe you will be the one to be chosen? Or is she merely getting rid of you after...", it continued before being interrupted.
"I swear to your god, I am going to punch you!", she shook him by the shoulders.
"Oh...", he spoke, red as an apple, "S-sorry for that.".
She shot him a very unpleasant stare before speaking, "You're kind of weird, you know that?.".
"I won't argue against that.", he nodded.
"Tsk.", she scoffed before snapping her gaze away.
"Want to hear another story?", he asked.
"I think you spoke enough...", she stood up, "Get some rest. You'll need it if you are to leave this place...".
"Will you join me when I do?", he asked, a sly smile spreading across his lips. The stare she shot him told him everything he needed to know.
She walked away and out of the confines of the grove. The fire died not too long after she left. By the time it burned out, Crimson Dawn was already sprawled on the ground and trying his best to sleep. But sleep wouldn't come so easily, no, not after he spoke of that wretched night. As he kept his eyes closed, he could still see "it".
He could still see its ash-gray skin that stretched over its emaciated frame. He could see it walking forward, its neck bent and crooked in a horrible way, its head almost scraping against the ceiling. He recalled how it waddled forward, dragging behind it a pair of long and discolored arms, the sound of putrid nails scraping against the stone of the floor rang out with each step that it took. Its face and crooked smile are forever seared onto his memory, even now they serve well enough to send shivers down his spine.
Sleep wouldn't take him but he dared not move, he had no desire to brave the darkness of the woods alone. He had no desire to meet with "it" tonight.
Somewhere else.
As one journey was bound to begin, another was already taking place.
A pitiful young man was waiting to make something out of himself. He sat in silence and darkness, rubbing the golden fabric of a handkerchief against the round surface of the object that sat in one of his hands. He gazed upon the dark shape and smiled with satisfaction, it was, after all, the fruit of his labor and it served to prove that he was of some use. The object he rubbed with great fervour was proof that even a failure and disgrace like himself could do great things.
He could hear footsteps outside of his ragged tent, he always could in spite of the fact that he told his comrades that he preferred being left alone. The fabric of the tent twisted and someone entered, he could feel their gaze on the back of his head.
"Sire?", the man asked.
"Yes.", he responded, still shining his trophy.
"Why is it so dark in here?", he inquired as he stepped forward.
"I have no need for light, not for what I am doing.", he spoke softly, "What brings you here? Shouldn't you be back at camp and making sure that your men reach with my letters?".
"That's why I am here.", he continued, "I have a letter meant for you but I doubt you can read it in the darkt.".
"Fair point.", he could feel a smile curl upon his lips. He put his trophy on the table that sat beside him, "Would you mind giving me your torch?". He turned to face him.
He did so without a second word. The young man took it and used it to light a series of candles that littered the length of his table alongside some papers and books.
"Now, you said you have a letter for me?", he sat back down, arm stretched outwards. The man nodded and handed him a letter sealed with a red mark. It was a good sign. He tore it open with little regard. The words written made his smile bloom fully, they were exactly what he expected.
"Your men did good.", he nodded, "I never figured that the fools of the east could find their way around the western ridge but I am happy to be wrong. How many men did you lose?".
"What's the point of this?", he asked, a hint of doubt could be felt amongst his words, "Why send word that far away? Just who are you trying to reach?".
"The point? I don't pay you to ask questions so let's not burden ourselves with that.", he chuckled, "I pay you and your men for information, I pay for your scouts and the information they procure and deliver and I will keep paying you for that and nothing else.".
"And if we refuse?", he asked, his hand on the hilt of the sword that sat at his hip. It was a pretty blade, one Dacian found appealing despite the muck and grime that covered it. A leader should always look after their tools, he figured, but clearly the man that stood before him didn't share that belief. No, he was filthy, all way the way to the core. His blade, dull and rusty, would be of little threat to him.
"Let us hope it does not boil down to that.", he spoke, locking eyes with the man, a certain fear was hiding behind his old and stern face. "Don't worry, I won't be dragging you along for much longer. As you can see, I already fell my first mark.", he gestured towards the skull that sat on the table, in between the candles and atop a thick book, "Only a few more to go.".
"You're sick, you know that?"
"What? Never seen a skull before?", he chuckled again, "I know some hunters take skulls as trophies and I thought I would do the same. Keep the mementos of the ones who had to die, you know?".
"Now, let us hope that you don't become one of the trophies I will mount on my wall.", he spoke as he gazed upon the skull, "I sent six letters. Have they all been delivered?".
"Yes. All of the men I sent have come back. For the most part.".
"And we've only gotten one back in return?".
"Yes."
"The only one we got a response to was the one we sent for beyond the ridge?".
"Yes. That's the first one you sent.", he spat, "It's only fitting that's the first one to be answered.".
"Good. Please tell me if any other letters arrive.", he waved him off as he turned away, "And tell Daeia that I am waiting for her.".
The man nodded, mumbling something under his breath as he walked away, his heavy steps cutting through the silence of the night.
He set his gaze on the skull, taking it in his hands. It surprised him, the joy he felt when he finally struck down his first mark. It was potent and intoxicating, it left him with a crooked grin even now.
He set the skull on the table only to turn his attention toward the thick book that lay between his candles. He took it in his hands, his fingers brushing against the coarse surface of its black cover, his touch meeting the rough texture that made skilk skin so resilient.
He read for a while, even as it started raining outside. He read, his eyes sparkling by the light of his meager candles, allowing himself to be drawn into the story just enough to forget his current predicament. He always dreamt of being like those heroes of old, the ones whom his dad used to read to him about during his younger years. Could he be as valiant and as just as them? He didn't know but that didn't matter. He had all the time in the world to figure out what he'll be after he shed the blood his patron desired.
He could hear the sound of mud under someone's feet, it was getting closer to his tent. The fabric twisted once again and someone stepped in, their gaze cold as ice.
"Come on in!", he put the book down as he turned to face his visitor.
The sight that met him was one he was very familiar with. The figure that stood before him was tall and slim, its body and face covered by the fabric of a hooded cloak, one that was fully drenched by the rain.
"Well?", he asked before rolling his eyes, "Do I have to ask you to get comfortable?".
The figure walked forward without responding. They were now standing right in front of him. He stood up as well, trying to make himself look bigger only to fail, the visitor was a head taller than him.
His gaze was met by sharp eyes that sat just below the fabric of the hood.
"Feeling in a playful mood?", he spoke while gazing into their eyes, a tint of yellow gazing back at him with indifference.
The visitor shook their head before taking a step back. Their hands reached from below the cloak, pulling back the hood. Gray-purple skin and silver hair were revealed. Daeia had superb features but she always kept them hidden, Dacian couldn't tell why.
"Is it cold outside?", he asked to which she nodded.
"Are you cold?".
She nodded again.
"Feel free to use this to warm up then.", he spoke as he reached for the coat that was sitting on his bed. He offered it to her but only after she had undone the buttons of her cloak and took it off. Putting the coat on, she now sat quietly on the small cott that Dacian called a bed. She might have been taller than him but the coat still looked a little too big for her. Her limbs were gracefully thin and her figure was elegant, a military coat could never fit her.
"Do you know why I brought you here?", he asked, sitting down again. She shook her head.
"You see this?", he took and placed the skull before her, "That is the sign of purpose and success. That's my first target down. I know that we'll meet the next one a bit farther north, around Alderan I believe. Master speaks of her, the one who slipped through his fingers. He says she's to accompany our next mark. You figure we'll get to kill two birds with one stone?".
She took it in her hands, gazing upon the ivory trophy with a blank expression before handing it back to him. She shrugged after doing so, much to Dacian's dismay.
"You don't get it.", he placed it on the table again, "But I don't blame you. Your kind could never understand. Anyhow, I called you here because I was feeling lonely...", he lied.
She raised her eyebrows in response as if to ask if that was really the truth.
"Ah, forget it.", he sighed as he stood up, "Want to duel in the rain? We don't have rain beyond the ridge so I am curious to see how I'll fare in the mud.".
Her eyes sparkled with interest at his proposition. He offered her his hand but she just jumped to her feet and left the tent without waiting for another word. He picked up his blade and followed her outside, a bitter longing taking hold within himself.
A longing that wouldn't be quelled until he spills enough blood to mend it all.
"I'll show them all!", he swore before setting foot outside. Maybe then he will finally be worthy.