Before - Homeworld, Two thousand years ago, After the Burn #3
Control had to be fought for, maintained, and constantly monitored.
One slip was all it would take. One moment of weakness, and everyone around her would die.
Horribly. Worse than the villages she’d razed with the Horsemen or towns wiped out in a conflagration every couple of hundred years.
Civilizations had buckled beneath the weight of her rampages. Cities wiped clean. Names lost to time.
Even Malekar hadn’t been able to stomach what she’d become for long. She’d ridden with him on and off for many years after she was changed, but it didn’t last. He had left quietly one night and never returned.
When the horror cleared, shame always followed.
And she would disappear into the deep corners of the world—caves, mountains, ancient temples swallowed by jungle—anywhere far from people, far from witnesses.
She would bury herself in silence and isolation, sometimes for centuries, letting the remnants of what she'd done rot her from the inside out.
It was during one of those disappearances, hiding out somewhere between forgotten rivers and overgrown ruins, that she encountered Malachi and Josh—two humans who would upend everything she thought she understood about herself.
At first, she’d only seen them as prey.
They came bickering through the underbrush, loud and clueless, arguing over a waterlogged map.
She had been lounging in the trees above her camp, unseen, deciding whether to let them wander into one of her traps or just drop down and tear out their spines.
But as they moved closer, something shifted.
The Hunger, which normally beat in time with her heart, began to retreat.
She didn’t notice right away. It was too subtle, more of a loosening than a vanishing, like a weight had been lifted. But with each step the men took toward her, the usual noise in her head, the drumbeat of want and blood and need faded.
She blinked into the sun-dappled clearing, confused. It wasn't until the stillness grew too large that she realized what had happened. The Hunger had recoiled. It wasn’t gone, but somehow blunted. Muted. She nearly fell out of the damn tree at the realization.
As she scrambled for balance, the shorter one glanced up, directly at her.
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look surprised. Instead, he nodded, as if he'd known she was there all along.
His companion yelped in shock and dove into the bushes, but the short one just smiled.
Calm. Easy. Like they weren’t being stalked by a predator whose idea of fun involved weeks-long slow bleeds.
And in that smile, she saw something she couldn’t explain.
Something terrifying in its gentleness. Not magic. Not glamour. Something deeper.
The Hunger didn’t disappear, but next to that smile, it felt…irrelevant.
“Hello there, Miss!” he’d called up, as if they were all friends already. “Would you mind coming down? We’re a bit lost, I’m afraid, and could use some help.”
And from that moment on, her path had changed its course.
Like Malachi and the band of other misfits who had gathered around Josh over the years, she stayed close.
Wherever he went, she followed, because while she was near him, the gnawing agony dulled to a tolerable throb.
And the shame, the bloodlust, and endless ache of what she was fell behind her, diminished into something manageable.
Around Josh, she could almost believe she was human again. Or close enough.
And now the fool man had wandered into the desert to face his destiny or whatever it was, and he hadn’t let her stay to keep him safe. Anything could happen out there.
Lost in her spiraling thoughts, her fingers closed around the cup until the metal crumpled. Wine sloshed over her hand and wrist, the crimson liquid dripping onto her pants.
“Oi, Ryns! You don’t smash it, you drink it!” Malachi’s voice snapped her back.
She watched the wine drop from the table into his lap while he hissed with irritation, pushing back his chair with a dramatic groan.
First, he swept at his clothes, sending errant droplets splattering in wild arcs.
Then, from underneath his robes, he pulled out a spare cup and placed it carefully before her.
“There you go.” He filled it from one of the jugs and tapped it with a flourish. “Try to keep this one upright, yeah?”
“Thanks, Mal.” She nodded, then she downed the cup in a single, decisive gulp.
“You remember that time I had to pull you from the den of succubae?” she asked, immediately filling her cup again.
“Yeah! I still haven’t forgiven you!” He slammed his cup down and punctuated it with a wet belch.
“Please,” she scoffed, tossing one of the now-empty jugs at his head. “They were five seconds from literally eating you. And not in a fun way.”
“Says you! And even if they had, it would’ve been worth it. Triplets!” He ducked just in time, nearly toppling from his chair.
A sigh passed between them.
“Good times.” His eyes drifted downward, no doubt remembering the countless adventures, simple joys, and even stranger times with Josh, the humble mason’s son from a small village near the inland sea.
“Hey, ummm…thanks for keeping him... keeping us safe all these years.” Malachi cleared his throat. “I know it’s more than what we see. He’s a target. Evil, monsters, and whatever else is always after him. But you stand in their path. Every single time.”
Rynna lifted her cup, taking a sip. She watched Malachi closely. Sentiment wasn’t his usual currency, but when it came, it was unmistakably genuine.
“Well,” she said lightly, though the thud of her heart betrayed any attempt at indifference. “Someone has to keep this ragtag group in check, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” he chuckled, then leaned forward. “But you do more than that. You’re like our guardian angel.”
“Guardian angel, eh?” She snorted. “That’s a new one.”
“Maybe so, but I mean it. You’ve saved our hides more times than I can count.”
She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady.
“We’ve been through a lot together. And besides, who else would do it?”
“Anyway.” He looked up at the ceiling, refusing to look at her. “All jokes aside. I appreciate you. We all do. And we’ll be there for you too, no matter what.”
She clinked her glass against his. “It’s a fair trade.”
He met her eyes as he drank, quiet for a beat, then he tipped his head. “Just admit it. You love him.” He smirked. “And me, of course.”
“What?!” she sputtered, almost forgetting to fight the way her heart pounded. “I do not! I’m one of the god-damned monsters! I nearly ate you the first time we met!”
“Hmmm hmmm.” Malachi broke into a fit of laughter, loud enough to rattle the rafters. He leaned into the table and gave a playful growl, teeth bared like a mock beast. “Such a terrifying creature, always mooning over our precious Joshua.”
“You’re delusional.” She scowled, arms crossing. “I am incapable of mooning. I. Am. A. Monster.”
“Maybe you were before.” His mirth faded. “But not anymore. Or at least, you don’t have to be.”
The words landed harder than she expected. She glanced down, dragging her finger over the rim of her cup. Malachi always had a way of cutting through the noise and saying the thing she hadn’t admitted even to herself.
Maybe she could choose who she wanted to be, and her past, or her nature, didn’t have to define her.
“Besides.” Malachi perked up, the mischief dropping back into his tone. “I’m the resident degenerate, remember?”
He sang, off-key and proud. “Who sins more than me? No one alive. My purpose is holy: to help Josh thrive. I lead by example, pure and unrefined. Showing our golden boy how to unwind.”
She snorted, wine burning her nose. “Yes, Sir Malachi. You are a fine example of the dregs of humanity.” She hurled another jug at him—this one still half full. “How else would our esteemed friend even hope to understand all those he wants to help?”
“Exactly!” he replied, enthusiasm bursting through his words. “You keep him alive, and I show him all the reasons people want to keep breathing.” He slammed his cup into hers.
They erupted into laughter, slapping each other on the back, desperately pouring more wine to raise another toast. Anything to forget that Joshua was by himself now. And that the Hunger was rising in his absence.
Rynna barely looked up over the next hours and many more drinks until the heavy tread of boots creaked down the stairs.
Seeing the newcomer, Malachi’s grin faltered.
“I’m going to let you take this one.” He grabbed the unopened jug from the table and shuffled erratically toward the back exit before the man could reach their table.
“Coward!” Rynna hissed after him, before sinking further into her seat.
Here we go. She braced herself for the conversation she knew was coming.
“Another productive morning, I see.” Adam sniffed, eyes following Malachi as he left, before glancing at Rynna. “Where is Joshua?”
Rynna sat back, frowning into her empty cup. “Elsewhere.”
Waving to the barmaid for another fill, she ignored the man’s barely constrained glare.
Adam’s hand hovered over the chair, his lip pulled tight, breath hissing through his nose, before finally lowering himself next to her, movements clipped and stiff. She raised an eyebrow. Whether driven by fear or disgust, he’d never gotten this close to her before.
“Whore.” He snapped his fingers in her face before hitting the table with an open hand. “Where is the Prophet?”
“Fuck this,” she muttered, then pulled the knife from her sleeve and drove the point down between his splayed fingers with a dull thunk.
Adam shoved back from the chair, stumbling as he clutched his hand to his chest.
“How dare you!” he barked, his hand came up like he meant to put it across her face.
Rynna moved, suddenly no longer lounging but standing close enough to touch.
“He went to the desert.” Inhaling his fear, her fingertips brushed the table as if considering whether to take up the knife again. “Which means he’s not here right now.”