Chapter 11
O ne Year Later…
I sat on the rooftop in Oakston, a city of Esmeray, my gaze fixed upon the home ahead, waiting for my mark. It had taken a year to find the trail of one of the survivors—Archie, the one who had wanted to "have his fun" with me back at the camp. I had tracked him for nearly a month, learning his habits, and with midnight nearing, I knew it wouldn't be long until his drunken self stumbled home.
This past year hadn't been easy.
Haunted by a shattered heart, I had barely managed to drag myself from The Great Woods, finding refuge in a remote township within Esmeray. Though some kind souls tended to my wounds, the shadow of war had left the town a hollow shell of what it once was. Despite my gratitude, I pressed forward, surviving on what I could hunt and earn, haunting taverns by night in search of any whisper that might lead me to the men who ruined my life.
Gradually, I learned to embrace my newfound power. What I had first thought was darkness turned out to be shadows. In the depths of the woods, I honed my craft, learning to bend shadows to my will, pulling them from trees until they blanketed entire clearings.
I became one with the shadows, watching huntsmen pass mere inches from where I stood, their oblivious forms close enough to touch.
But the fire—the white flames—remained untouched, a power I dared not summon after what happened to the village.
The shadows proved useful enough, yet the memory of that strange, searing warmth that accompanied the white flames still haunted me.
To summon that power again would be to risk losing control entirely.
I had made a vow of vengeance, and I intended to keep it—even if it meant restraining the very power that burned within my blood.
It wasn't until a month ago that I happened upon a local tavern here where this drunkard bragged about what he'd seen in his travels, including hidden villages within the woods. When I caught sight of his face, time froze, my blood turning to ice. My fingers trembled against the wooden table, memories of that night crashing through me like a tidal wave of horror. It took all of my willpower not to slit his throat right there. When he finally had his fill of ale, he stumbled out of the tavern, and I slipped into the night behind him. Once outside, I used the shadows to conceal my steps, though the fool never even glanced back. That was the first night I tracked him to his home.
For weeks, I scouted the dilapidated home, learning his habits, where he frequented, and who visited.
I was frustrated to find his former companions never came by. The man lived a pathetic life, spending his days nursing hangovers and his nights drinking and entertaining paid company.
As I watched him stumble home night after night, my resolve only grew fiercer. Every stagger, every stumble was a reminder of the pain he'd caused, the lives he'd ruined. With each passing night, I felt the shadows within me grow deeper, more ravenous for the justice I was about to serve.
The night before last, he'd brought home a woman - human.
From my hiding spot, I'd winced as my fae hearing caught every sordid detail until the woman shrieked, cursed, and stormed out.
She'd spat something about inadequacies - whether his manhood or his coin purse was lacking, she'd wanted neither.
Tonight, blessed be the stars, he came home alone.
The shadows embraced me as I glided to the side of the house, peering through a window to find him nearly unconscious at the small table. I crept to the back, coaxing the window open with well-practiced fingers. Moonlight spilled across weathered floorboards, casting long shadows that danced at my command, while the musty scent of stale ale and unwashed linens assaulted my senses.
Through the ajar door, I spotted him slumped at the table, his shallow snores filling the silence.
I sighed. This couldn't be so easy. Silent as death, I positioned myself behind him, my presence a ghost.
He didn't deserve the mercy of dying in his sleep.
With my dagger ready in one hand, I seized the tankard and doused Archie with its contents.
I commanded the shadows away, unveiling myself.
His eyes locked onto me, nearly doubling in size.
"What in the hells?!" he bellowed, lurching to his feet.
I lunged forward, slamming him back into his seat, my dagger kissing his throat. "Remember me? You seemed so eager for my company before."
Archie's eyes darted wildly, his chest heaving as he gripped the edge of his chair. "That was before I knew what you were," he spat. "You're a monster. Nothing but destruction from the likes of you."
A cold laugh escaped my lips. "Oh, Archie," I purred, "the only ones who brought destruction were you and your crew." I pressed the dagger deeper, drawing a thin line of blood. "Where are they?" I demanded, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
He winced, a bead of blood trailing down his neck. "Loose lips never got anyone nowhere," he growled, defiance flickering in his eyes.
"Wrong answer," I sighed, my voice ice. "But I guess I'll just have to hunt them down like I did you. Like you did to all of them." The blade sang across his throat. His eyes went wild, thick fingers scrabbling at the gushing wound.
I watched the light fade from his eyes, victory and emptiness warring in my chest. "They'll... kill... you..." he choked out, his words dissolving into a wet gurgle as the life drained from him. His eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward, dead. I remained still, the hollow victory tasting like ash in my mouth.
The silence shattered with measured applause.
I whirled around, my heart leaping into my throat. A tall, lithe figure lounged in the doorway, shrouded in shadow.
Wrapped in black leather, they radiated power that felt wrong—neither fae nor human. Their face covered beneath a dark cloak.
"It's not often someone gets to my mark before I do," the figure mused as they stepped closer to our dearly departed friend. "Who sent you?"
I shifted, my grip on the dagger white-knuckled. "No one sent me," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. Every instinct screamed at me to flee. As the stranger advanced, I retreated, my eyes darting to the bedroom behind me. If I could make it to the window...
"Are you a free agent?" they inquired, halting just out of arm's reach, their head tilted in curiosity.
"I'm merely someone with a grudge," I retorted, struggling to keep the tremor from my voice. "I didn't mean to take your mark. By all means, tell your employer you did it. I got what I needed from this."
"If you decide you need employment, find me at the tavern in Bridgedale, just over the Sunnevan border. Ask the barkeep about vengeance." They made a lazy circular gesture with their hand. "Judging by that exchange with old Archie here, I'm sure that won't be difficult for you." They melted into the shadows like ink into water. I didn't hesitate, launching myself through the room and out the window, the night swallowing me whole.
Archie's death brought little comfort. He was just one of three who had devastated our village. I wandered through the town's narrow streets, my feet carrying me towards its outskirts. My chest felt hollow, each breath a reminder of all I'd lost as empty buildings stared back at me with shattered windows like accusing eyes. There was nothing left for me here.
Could I become a blade for hire? My stomach churned at the thought, but survival had a way of reshaping morals into mere suggestions. A hollow ache in my belly reminded me of more pressing concerns. I hadn't seen any signs of deer since the woods near the last city, and between here and Sunneva, nothing but war-ravaged territory. My coin purse was meager—I could maybe afford some bread whenever I found the next trader, but I'd have to find a way to earn more after.
The stars only twinkled mockingly at my perpetual state of being lost. I was always lost.
Another pang of hunger twisted my insides. I drew my bow, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of a small animal I could roast. I didn't dare travel beyond the path. My inner compass spun wildly, and I feared straying from the path would leave me truly adrift. A slight rustling caught my attention. I crouched, pulling shadows to me as I crept towards the bush when a squirrel popped out. It wasn't a deer, but it'd do.
The squirrel fell to my arrow, and I built a small fire near the path. The trail remained visible, a lifeline I dared not abandon in search of water. I made short work of cooking the meat and said a small prayer, thankful to not starve tonight. I watched the flames dance, sparks rising when the wood crackled. Suddenly, the gentle flames transformed into a searing inferno, devouring my village in my mind's eye. I winced, never again. I wouldn't release that destruction ever again.
I laid beneath the stars, with only the warmth of the fire to comfort me. Memories of Ma?l flooded my thoughts, bittersweet and piercing. What would he think of the path I now walked? Would he understand my need to rid the world of such evil? Would he still want me if he knew I was considering becoming an assassin? Part of me wanted to believe he would, saying something about living honorably. But deep down, I knew different—when he proposed, he would have moved heaven and hell for us, despite my doubts about our chances. He would've understood doing something bad with good intentions, and he would've been excited for an adventure. I twirled the silver ring around my finger. Perhaps embracing this new path, this adventure, wasn't such a terrible idea—at least until I could reunite with my people.