Blood dripped from the two severed heads I had stuffed in a burlap sack as I wandered into the town of World's End. The drops of blood that flowed from the bounty would, in time, flow down into the western sea. Short were the glances given to me by the townsfolk. I was known, well known. My white hair and red eyes distinguished me more than my foreign features here. The white-haired demon they called me in hushed tones. I did not care what these ingrates thought of me, for they are as important to me as the rock beneath my feet. Only two men existed in this town that I deemed to be worth more than nothing. The man who paid the bounties I collected and the man who poured my drink, though in a town of this scale, those were one and the same.
I entered the tavern and marched up to the counter, placing the blood-stained sack atop it. "Jobs done, two dead mages."
The man behind the counter came over, peering into the sack to confirm the faces. "I've seen these two before. They came here once before they started banditry. What were they?"
"Male, of course, could conjure fire; the woman, some type of metal manipulation. luckily they were morons, like you said. Otherwise, I could have easily died."
"The white-haired demon, die? That would be the day." The barman moved the sack below the counter and onto the floor, out of sight.
"You don't know how dangerous a pyromancer can be. Normally, I avoid them; this one seemed dumb enough to get close to."
"Right, right, your usual?" Without even waiting for my response, he reached under the counter, pulled out a bottle of wine and popped the cork. Putting the whole bottle in front of me. "How many bottles do you want deducted from your pay-out this time?"
"Three."
"Three? That's low? Leaving us, are ya?"
I nodded as I clasped the bottle. "Might head down to Long Island for a bit; that's the only town I haven't been to yet… well, that and Liverset."
"Don't go to Liverset. The fourth crusader army is hanging around there at the moment. That and the Bloody Gate."
"Fourth army?" I said as I wiped the few fresh drops of wine from my lips. I had been avoiding the crusades like the plague. Trade is common between villages and faster than any army could move, and every trader gets loose-lipped after a few drinks. Every time I heard even a whisper of the church being near, I left. They were hunting me after that priest learned my secrets, after fleeing the service of the crown; no doubt its protection would be stripped too. Though I still keep the black robes. "Maybe Long Island would be a good idea, isolated. Could do with a holiday."
"You would probably be met with thunderous applause ifin ya did. I wouldn't be surprised if word of your deeds had reached beyond the western peninsula."
"I hope not." I took another swig of my bottle and stumbled to my feet. "I'll take the other two when I leave in the morning. I'm going to head to bed. Give me a loaf of bread as well from my pay. I'll collect the rest after breakfast tomorrow."
I stumbled upon the stairs, clutching the neck of a half-drunk bottle of wine and a full loaf of bread that I would scarf down to alleviate the hangover I would feel when I woke. The upstairs of the inn had only three rooms: one belonging to the owner, one I had rented, and another rented by someone else. Normally, I would visit a brothel at this time, but in a town this small, there was none.
I locked the room and sat in the dark as faint moonlight let me see only enough. The room was small, and a bed and a table beside it took up the entire width of the room. I set my backpack down at the foot of the bed and sat. Starting at the nearly fully melted candle, A sign I may have been here too long. The bed was cold and unpleasant. I thought again about pursuing the warmth of a woman to aid my sleep, but the news of the church unnerved me. They had swept through the peninsula months ago to purge magic and then made a quick retreat- the first army, I think it was. Now they have returned with the fourth army. After a month of not having to worry about avoiding the church, now it's all I can think about.
I reached down after prying the bottle from my lips and opened the top drawer of the nightstand. A small mirror and razor for shaving sat within. I reached into it and picked up the blade as I shimmied back, leaning against the wall by the window, flicking the blade open and looking at how the moonlight reflected off the metal. It was sharp, hardly used. The quality of the craft was noticeable by the different tone of the metal nearer to the edge. As I flicked it around and watched the moonlight flash off it, that old thought crept back in. Could I slide this across my throat, or down my arms? Could I just rid myself of this stupor?
As I held the blade to my neck, my hand froze, as if being pulled back by an invisible hand. It was Wrath, the demon that lived in my mind. He had been silent since the incident at Balim, or maybe even before that; I don't quite remember. Though his influence and actions are still here, like now, refusing to allow me to slit my throat, or at Balim when I tried to drown myself. The one thing he can't stop me from doing, though, is drinking. Though I've yet to drink enough for it to kill me.
I moved the blade away from my neck and instead pressed it against my wrist, pressing it into my flesh. As blood started to flow, I pulled it up the length of my forearm. The wound closed only seconds after being created. The liquor did addle him and his power over my flesh, though not enough; it was never enough.
I dropped the blade back into the drawer and pulled from it the mirror instead. I sifted in the bed and moved from the wall so the faint moonlight would hit my face, allowing me to see. The last time the church was looking for me, they had an image, a drawing in my likeness from back when I was fifteen years old. My face had changed so much in the last three years; the face I look at now is nothing like the one that was looking at me from that wall back in the south. The shape of my jaw, the cheekbones, and the slant of my eyes looked less foreign than when I was wandering; if not for the deep, dark redness in my eyes and the faint silver of my hair, I might have been able to pass as a local, as someone else.
The hair atop my head was what I was known for, what made me famous. If the church learned of someone like me and figured out my name. Given how powerful a sin may be, fighting a whole army might not be the best of ideas.
As I started to gorge myself on the bread, I thought more, and the more I thought, the more anxious I became. I was in Worlds End, and he told me today that he heard of the army in Liverset. When did he hear this information? Today? Several days ago? Even if it were today, that's two towns over. Someone would have had to give word to Blackstow, and then someone from Blackstow would have to come here… Three main roads lead to this city. Ashenfort is the one the bandits were on that I killed today. The one I would take goes south to Darkdrum, and the one north leads to Blackstow. So a trader must have come here from Blackstow, but this town was suffering from a shortage of trade.
"Ahhh fuck this!" I yelled at myself as I lunged to my feet. I marched down the stairs and towards the counter where the barkeep was looking at me with a surprised expression as I still clutched my half-drunk bottle of wine.
"That was fast. Ready for another bottle already?
"Who the fuck told you about the fourth army? WHEN did they tell you?" I leaned forward over the counter as I raised my voice.
"Four days passed. The woman renting the other room, a mercenary like you."
My face dropped as I came to the realisation. They would definitely be in Blackstow by now. "Who is this person? Did they go through Ashenfort before Blackstow?"
"I don't know, not my business. She'll be here shortly. She normally comes for food just before we close up the kitchen. Stick around and ask her yourself."
"Are you talking about me?" A soft, sultry voice cooed out from behind me. Turning, I saw a woman who stood slightly taller than I, with a slender yet lean figure; her raven hair sat atop her shoulders, while the only skin shown was her face. Covered from the neck down in leather armour with a bow slung over her shoulder. Her face was angled and slim, with piercing green eyes that stung into mine as she stepped closer. The eyes of someone taking measure of prey.
"Are you the one that came from Blackstow? Do you know the whereabouts of the fourth army?"
She stepped forward and snatched my wine bottle from me, lifting it and taking a deep drink as her eyes locked with mine. She placed the bottle on the bench and leaned one arm atop it. "So, you're the white haired demon I hear tell of. Why do you care so much about the fourth army? You share a common enemy, no?"
"That's my business." I could not tell this woman the truth: that the church knew of Wrath, that they knew I was a Marked Child. Though there was lingering doubt. What if none in the army knew of me? What if I looked so different now that even if they did know, would they recognise me? Even still, it was a risk I didn't want to take.
"Very well, I shan't pry. Though I will ask your name, o' mysterious slayer of mages."
"Shinya Akame"
"Ah, now that sounds quite… exotic." She held the bottle back out towards me, inviting me to take a drink. "The fourth army is split between Blackstow and Ashenfort. They also plan to build a permanent base outside of Green Pass rather than squat in the dingy, decrepit fortress to the north. So, if you're looking to avoid the fourth army, you're stuck here."
I studied her face as she spoke, the small twitches at the corner of her mouth, the way her eyes glanced around as she said certain words. I had a feeling, an instinct that this woman was avoiding them as well. "What about Long Island? Then take a boat to Westerford or Mare?"
"HA" She let out a loud, sharp, singular laugh before catching herself, covering her mouth with her hand. She glanced around the room as the lingering eyes turned away from her before she continued. "That journey will take weeks, and in the little dinghies they have, you'll die of thirst."
"Then what do you plan on doing?" I leaned in slightly, eager to interrogate her for any wisdom she may carry.
"My parents live south, between here and Manarim. If you aren't too drunk or hungover come morning, we could travel together for a time, spend the night at my family's home and then I could see you on south to Manarim proper. That way you bypass the fourth army."
I stared, mouth slightly open, at her unexpected generosity. With a faint nod, I agreed. "I'll be awake and ready by first light."
She smiled and turned towards the staircase, making her way over. "Best not stay up drinking too late then, o great slayer."
Just after she disappeared out of sight, I turned to the bartender. "Wake me at first light."
I woke the next morning, an hour after sunrise, to the huntress opening my door.
After some time gathering my payment and extra bottles of wine, we departed town, leaving through the south-eastern gate that led to Darkdrum. After walking for twenty minutes, we turned south and veered from the path, over a small fence and through a growing wheat field that came just above our knees.
"So you claim you're a hunter?"
"Yes." She said monotonously as she walked in front of me, the arrows in her hip quiver clattering softly with each step.
"Of beasts or men?"
"The men I hunt are beasts. You should know that as well, demon… you've slain your fair share of them after all."
The way she spoke made me uneasy. I took a few steps closer to her, nearly walking by her side so that if she tried anything, I could react quickly.
"How is it that you hunt?" She continued, not even noticing as I closed the distance. "You carry no blade nor bow. How does one slay the most deadly creature in the world… unarmed?
"With my bear hands."
She stopped in her tracks, and I did in turn. A strange guttural noise came from her mouth as she leaned forward slightly. I stepped forward as she raised a hand to her mouth. I saw her face turn red and tears welling in her eyes as she was desperately trying to hold back a laugh. Her eyes darted towards me, and she snapped, bursting out in a deep, throaty fit of laughter.
"Your - ba, bare hands! HAhahaaaaa. Oh saints, HA, that- no, THAT- I would fucking LOVE to see. Oh, my saints. That would be like me wrestling a bear. Could - could you imagine?" She wiped the tears from her face as she continued to laugh. It was a deep and throaty laugh, not the kind of sound you would expect from a woman so fair. That alone made me smile and even let loose a chuckle or two. Before I knew it, the both of us were standing in the middle of a budding white field, laughing.
After a few minutes, the laughter died down, and we continued to walk out of the field and through some woods.
"My parents are not too far now. We mainly raise goats and grow grapes. Make cheese, that's sort of thing."
"Wine and cheese?"
She nodded as she glanced back at me for a moment.
"By the way, I never got your name."
"Huh, oh right. Well, I intended to stay mysterious and all, but… well, my name's Diana Croft. My father taught me to hunt wild game here; I got good at it. Very good."
"In truth, Miss Croft. I had completely expected you to try to kill me by now."
"Kill you? Tempting, but would that make me famous or infamous? Either way, if a few dozen mages can't, I sure as shit can't. Unless… the reason you don't carry a weapon is that you yourself are a mage." She stopped dead and shrugged her right shoulder, causing the bow that was slung over it to fall into her waiting hand. She turned to me with sharp eyes, locked onto my hands.
These past few months, I had been wearing more clothes than usual, hooded robes long and flowing, though tattered and torn at the base. Wraps around my forearms and bandaged gloves over my hands. Under it all were the same black and gold robes I wore when I broke the world, just now covered up. And under it all, to my right-hand side, I kept a small dagger in my pocket. I reached for it and drew it, showing dried blood. "Only a fool would travel without a weapon, and it would be more foolish to let my enemies know I have one."
Diana smiled and slung the bow over her shoulder once more. "Then I take it I am not your enemy, as you are not mine. Though in truth, I did have my suspicion. How do you do it then with a blade so small?" She turned, and we continued to walk.
"I play the role of the drunken fool; they lower their guard. And when I get close…"
An approving hum came from Dinana. "I do it the other way. I sneak, hide, bide my time. Then let loose a singular arrow, right through the skull every time."
"The skull? Why not the neck? Softer."
"Skull kills them instantly. Less risk. Last thing I want is the death throes of a pyromancer coming my way."
"You've killed one?"
"Well, that's what the wanted poster said. I didn't give him the chance to prove himself. What about you?"
"Two now; the first one nearly killed me. Hard lesson learned."
"You must regale me with that tale."
"Sometime perhaps."
We moved through a thick brush and came into an open field. At its furthest edge sat a large, elegant wooden log house, two floors tall. It looked more like the town hall back home rather than a house for a singular family. A large fenced area held goats absently nibbling the tall grass, and nearby stood a small but respectable vineyard for growing grapes and a vegetable garden. Standing there, looking at it, I couldn't help but imagine that, in place of the goats, were chickens. That the vineyard was half the size and the vegetable garden was double, that the house was only a fraction of what I saw. It reminded me of home.
I didn't notice, but I had stopped walking; Diana stopped and turned, noticing I had stopped. She grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me across the field, noticing my absent gawking. It snapped me from my fantasy. At the door to the house, I saw it open as two people emerged. One was a slightly taller, plumper, balding man, and the other a short grey-haired woman with few wrinkles and sun-kissed skin. They waved as Diana pulled me towards the house. They were waving and calling out to her.
"Diana! Finally snagged a man, I see?" Her mother called out with a wide grin as she eyed me.
We came to a stop, and she finally let go of my arm, only to fling her own around her parents in an embrace. I must admit, it made me jealous how much they were smiling. She turned and presented me.
"Mom, Dad. This is Shinya, the white haired demon and slayer of mages."
As she spoke, I lifted my head, pulling my hood back to reveal my hair. Both of their smiles vanished instantly, replaced with what I could only describe as a mixture of fear and concern. Their eyes darted between Daina and me for a moment before Diana cut through the tension.
"We met yesterday, and he wants to travel to Manarim, so I let him tag along. This is my mother, Karol and my father, Peter."
Their expressions relaxed with Diana's clarification, and with a soft smile, Karol nodded and said it was a pleasure to meet me and welcomed me into their home for the night. They still seated me with some caution, like one would if a knight came into their home. After all, I hunt that which they fear, though I know not whether they are treating me with reverence or trepidation. I know little of the rumours that exist about me, so I know not how these people perceive me, though I fear in any case they will be severely disappointed.
As we entered the home, Diana's father took her bow and arrows. I noticed Karol standing. Waiting for something. I reached into my coat and into my pocket, pulling out the dagger that I used only once on a dead fish. I handed the dry, stained blade over to her, and she took it with care.
"Would you perhaps be more comfortable without those garbs on? We make an effort to keep our home plenty warm."
Without too much thought, I took off my backpack and placed it on the ground and pulled the tattered robe off me, revealing the black-and-gold-lined opulent clothes underneath, though tattered and slightly worn. As I pulled off my disguise, a gasp rang out from the parents as they stared at me. Clearly, they recognised these robes and what they meant. I paid no mind and held out my dirty brown robe. Karol, though, knelt as she took it. Suddenly, they started treating me like royalty, and all I could do was let out a resigned sigh.
"Where did you get something that fancy?" Diana asked.
"Stole em" It was easier to lie. "Though… I might replace it with something more… ordinary."
"We have spare clothes upstairs; our son Raynard's old clothes might fit you. You can stay in his old room as well."
"Thank you," I said as I removed the black and gold robe, leaving only the pants and a shirt on. I handed the coat to Karol. "Could you do me one other small favour?"
She looked at me with uncertainty.
"Could you burn that and this once I change?"
Without questioning it, she nodded her head and walked into another room alongside Peter, who also had his hands full with our effects. Diana turned to me with an exaggerated look of thought, her lips pushed to one side of her face as she let out a soft 'hmmm'. "So who were you before then? Some inner-city bigwig? NO, royal military? No way any noble could fight anyone."
"I worked for the crown for a bit. They saw my talents as… useful."
"Surprised they let you go at all, then. Or are you hunting mages on their behalf?" I simply shook my head in response. "Anyway, let me show you to Raynard's old room. It's upstairs."
The house itself could be described as having a central area and two wings; it was only the central third of the house that had a second floor, and that is where we went. Atop the stairs was a small hallway with two doors, one on either side and a window that looked out to the field where we had come from. Diana pointed to the door on the right.
"That's Raynard's old room; feel free to rummage through the wardrobe and take anything you fancy. It won't be missed. House rules are simple: if a door is closed, don't open it; if it's open, feel free to go in. That mainly applies to the bathroom and toilet. And this here is my room." She moved to the door on the left, opening it. "I'm also going to get changed" She slinked inside and closed the door.
I stepped forward and looked out of the field below the house for a moment; it was like its own little world, a carved-out section of the woods built for seclusion. Thought the house seemed large for how few lived here, and the farm as well. These people must have been wealthier and had slaves, though it seems they have fallen into hardships. The fencing looks old and weathered; the vineyard cordons were in poor shape. The grass was overgrown, and weeds had sprouted. I wonder: did Diana leave to hunt mages because they were desperate for the money? It was the only thing that made sense.
After a moment, I went into the room I was given and found it caked in a layer of dust. Raynard must have left here long ago, either willingly or not. I opened the wardrobe and was assaulted by a cloud of dust, causing me to sneeze. The clothes were still in good condition and had not been eaten away by bugs or worms.
The clothes were a mix of farmhand or work garb, rough and simple. There were also nicer items. I stripped off my old imperial court clothes and took a white long-sleeve collared shirt. I found the fit to be snug in all places except around the arms; atop that, I adorned a black buttoned vest and a belt that sat below it, where I could also hold my dagger. I also took some simple yet comfortable black pants that were slightly thick to protect from the wind but loose enough at the bottom to allow any sweat to exit. I kept the shoes since they were comfortable and were plain black with no special embroidery or markings.
I gathered the shirt and pants off the floor and took them out of the room. Diana's bedroom door was still closed. I walked downstairs and quickly ran into Karol, who happily took the shirt and pants I wanted to discard. She asked if I wanted to burn these along with the jacket; I simply nodded and handed them over as I thanked her for allowing me to take the clothes.
I went back to the front door where I had left my backpack on the ground and hoisted it back over my shoulder. I stood in silence for a moment until I heard some noise coming from the right-hand wing and started in that direction. I walked into a grand dining hall with a long table that could seat at least fourteen people. At its far end, embedded into the wall, was a large, ornate stone fireplace where Karol stood, tossing the pants and shirt into the flame. I placed my backpack down on the table, the sound getting her attention. From my bag, I pulled out the two bottles of wine and placed them on the table.
"Here, please have one of these, as thanks." I pushed one forward and took the other, opening it as I started to drink from the bottle.
Karol came forward and took the other bottle. "Those clothes look good on you. Though your appearance looks quite shabby. If you would like, I could cut your hair and beard"
I reached up and rubbed my face; a small beard had started to form atop my face in the past few weeks, and my hair almost reached down to my shoulders. I nodded and agreed, which made her smile.
"Come with me; I have a shaving blade in the kitchen. With those clothes as well, you'll look like quite the strapping gentleman."
I sat in the middle of the large kitchen atop a stool near a sink. She first shaved away my beard entirely until my skin was smooth. After that, she moved to the back and began to cut away at my hair gently and yet methodically. Cutting large chunks at first, but then smaller and smaller. "So, Miss Croft, how long have you lived here?" The question felt awkward and forced, but I couldn't think of another way to break the painful silence.
"Most of my life, since I married. Peter's father owned this farm originally; now it's him, and I fear Diana might not take to it the same."
"Do you have no others?"
"No. Raynard, our oldest, is buried in the back; he died only a few months past. We used to have slaves, but since then things have taken a turn, and we could no longer afford them and had to let them go."
"Poverty slaves?"
"Debt slaves mostly, but a few of them as well. Now it's only Peter left to tend to crops. Diana does well with the goats, though, and I do all the making."
"Cheese and wine?"
"Cheese and wine. The bottle you gave us is actually one of our own. We can't afford the custom glassblowers anymore, so we have unlabelled bottles, but there is a sticker on the underside."
"Then I chose a rather poor gift." We both chuckled softly. I didn't notice the wine had a sticker; in fact, any time I buy it, I never even look at the brand or label at all. All wine in the West is good wine, and I don't have the palate to tell them apart by taste.
She finished cutting my hair and used a small brush to tidy up and style the hair. It sat short at the back, leaving my neck exposed; the sides also exposed my ears in full, though the hair atop my head, leading down to my forehead, was thicker still and had a more scruffy feel to it, with some hair resting just above my eyebrows. It was rough yet full and thick.
As the older Croft finished cleaning me off, I stood and asked if Peter was outside. I left the kitchen and went out the front of the house, where I saw Peter in the grape vineyard with a hammer and nails, with a small pile of fresh wooden planks to do maintenance. As I approached, he waved and called out to me.
"Are you the same man who came in just before? You seem much more handsome than he." He had a smirk and nudged my chest with his fist.
I retorted with nothing more than a smile at his playful comment. "Would you like some help? My mother and I had a farm of our own; we also had a vineyard."
"Oh, please, please. It would be much appreciated. The trellis has all but started to rot, so I need to replace em ere long. Help would be most welcome. Take thisin ere; I got more tools in the house."
I nodded and took the hammer from him. I watched as he waddled slowly towards the house like a partial cripple missing his cane. Through the second-floor window, I saw Diana standing and watching. No longer did she wear her leather armour, but rather, she wore a white long-sleeved blouse with a dark green bodice atop it and a dark brown skirt that went below what I could see. As our eyes met, she turned and walked away from the window.
I turned my attention back towards the vineyard and began to work, carefully ripping down the rotten wood so as not to damage the growing grapes and replacing it with new, fresh wood. The work was repetitive but soothing. Nostalgic. My mind began to wander back; I remember doing this with my mother in my youth, back at our farm in Trydent Wood. It had been so long since then, and ever since then I had no place I could really call home, no place to call my own. I had been shoved from one place to the next by the hands of others and now by my own desire to die. I have longed for months now to end my own life; I had all but forgotten these small, repetitive yet pleasurable moments. To think that something so simple as tending to a grape vineyard would be enough to make me shed a tear in longing. For I missed my old life back home; who wouldn't. Mayhaps, I wondered, it would be possible to make a place like that of my own. Somewhere that I could call home.
I spent hours tending to the vineyard. Forgoing even the wine that I had left inside, though I did not miss its intoxicating aroma, as the work was enough to sate me. Peter had returned to work alongside me, but after an hour or two he went back inside, citing his old bones aching from the labour. Though I kept going till the sun started to hang low behind the house and its long shadow enveloped me, calling me towards its warmth through the glow of candlelight. For a moment I stopped working and simply stared at the building, wondering if I was worthy of its warm embrace. For I had fallen so far from it in years past; would it even feel right? It mattered little, for this was not my home, and I am a stranger here. Nothing more than a passing ghost.
"Are you going to gawk all night or are you going to come inside?" A voice called out. Diana was standing at the door with a long brown apron. "Mother and I just prepared a feast and a half; come on. Must be hungry after all that work."
She disappeared back inside as the door swung closed. Only then did I realise I hadn't eaten at all today, as my stomach churned at the thought of food.
The four of us gathered and sat at the overly large dining table. Peter and Karol sat next to each other, and Diana sat opposite Peter, leaving the seat at the head of the table empty. Sprawled out amongst the table itself were various meats, cheese, fruits and breads. It truly was a feast and a half. As I moved to take a seat, Peter stood up and moved towards the empty chair at the head of the table, pulling it out and inviting me to sit. So I sat. With a pat on my back, Peter took his seat again as he told me to eat my fill and that this feast was well deserved for all the work I had done.
I watched as the three of them grabbed food from the table and placed it atop my plate for me, and Diana poured wine into my cup. I did not know if this was a strange custom or a common practice, but once they had stopped, I began to eat, and they too did in turn.
As the eating slowed and the drinking quickened, the faint clatter of silverware softened and gave way to words.
"So", Peter piped up. "You're apparently quite famous, are you? That's what Diana told us."
I glanced at him for a moment; of course, these people are probably reclusive and know little about the goings-on of the outside world. "I hunt mages."
"Diana said as much; she has also hunted a few. Prey, how many does one need to slay to become as famous as you?"
I thought for a moment. I didn't count how many I had hunted over the last few months, but it can't have been that many. I let out an uncertain hum before saying, "Maybe around twenty?"
Karol leaned forward "That seems quite low; forgive me for saying so. Honey, how many have you hunted?"
"Moooom", Diana groaned out, slightly annoyed, though there was a smile on her face. Karol didn't say anything and simply stared at Diana, awaiting an answer. "Fine, four. I've killed four."
"It's not how many," I interjected. "It's how dangerous they are."
"Are they not all the same? Uh, forgive me for asking, but we know so little out here; we only learnt that magic existed not but a few months past."
"No, no, they are not the same. To compare one mage to another would be like comparing a rabbit to a bear. They are different beasts entirely, only they look the same."
"So… how does all that… mmmmmagic stuff work then?"
"They each can control something; what that thing is seems completely random."
"As well as their level of control over it," Diana interjected. That was all that was known about mages, or at least all that was publicly disclosed about the nature of magic by the church researchers.
"No," I muttered. "No, not quite. These mages we see out there now are… stupid. Confused and scared of their powers, they have no idea what to do with them. Imagine if you grew a third arm; it would take time to learn to master it- years, decades, perhaps. It's the same for them; what we see now is them at their weakest."
The table grew silent. I felt the dread wash over them as they realised that in only a few short years, the mages could fight back, and win. "So," Peter whispered first before speaking up. "So, what does that mean? What kind of power is there in magic?"
I knew what the church had said, and I knew it was wrong. I knew the truth behind it all deep down in my stomach because I, too, had the same thing happen to me, but with something much more foul. "They don't realise what they can do. Magic requires a certain amount of imagination and understanding of the world at a much deeper level. A pyromancer, for example, is probably one of the more deadly and able to level villages or a small army. They may think they need an existing fire to manipulate it, whereas a more experienced one could use the heat from their own body, exaggerate it and conjure flame."
"That is quite terrifying."
"It gets worse. A smart one would realise they could change the temperature of other people's bodies; without using fire, they could sap your heat and give you hyperthermia or have you freeze to death in a warm room. Or they could take the heat from the air itself and compress it, concentrating it into a point to conjure flame from the air, or even…" I stopped myself from saying the next part. These small farmers in the middle of nowhere didn't need to know that; it would do them no good. I forced a smile and continued, "Forgive me, this is hardly appropriate dinner conversation. Shall we change the subject to something more… light-hearted?"
We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity after I said that. For what was there to talk about that was good? These are dark times, and the world is cruel, but it goes on.
After a few seconds of painful silence, Diana spoke again. "Well, Shinya here is travelling down to Manarim tomorrow. I was going to see him partway there, until we clear the thicket and find the path."
"Manarim? Why not go through Darkdurm? It's directly east of Manarim."
"The church. They have an army hunting mages, and I would rather avoid them."
"Why? You a mage?" Peter asked.
"No, no. Just a… complicated relationship with them. They are not fond of me, and they are close with the emperor who, I'm guessing, is also not too fond of me."
"Because you abandoned your duties?" Karol asked.
"Mom." Diana snapped, implying her question was rude.
"Because I fulfilled them and then knew that what the crown was having me do was wrong. So… I left. I tried for the first time to do what I knew was right, rather than what I was told."
"You're brave" Peter turned to face me fully. "Truly, something like that… takes a lot of guts. If you abandoned your post to do what was right. You have my utmost respect, and you are welcome in this home as long as you desire…. Also, having a helping hand wouldn't hurt." Peter's tone shifted from serious to joking and then ended with a laugh, causing me to smile.
"I appreciate the offer, but I feel as if I would be intruding. Besides, I don't like to stay in one place too long."
"You could stay for a few days, maybe?" Diana paused to take a sip of wine. "You seemed like you were enjoying working outside. You even stopped being a raging alcoholic for a few hours." She shot me a teasing smirk.
"I'll think about it."
We finished what little food was left rather quickly, and Diana and Karol began to gather plates and take them into the kitchen. Peter glanced at me and tilted his head to the side as he stood up, inviting me to go with him.
We stepped outside onto the front porch where a small bench sat against the house wall. Peter sat and bid me sit next to him.
"Thank you again for helping with the vineyard today. But I had something I wanted to ask."
"What?"
"You were going to say something back here when you were talking about magic, but you stopped. What were you going to say?"
"I fear knowing that won't do you any good."
"Look at me, I'm old. The world's changing faster than I can keep up, and I fear I've been left behind. I don't know what's coming, and I'm afraid to go out there and meet it. But if you can help me understand… well, maybe I won't be so afraid."
I sat and looked at him for a moment; his eyes were earnest, though he didn't know what he was truly asking. After a moment, I sighed and conceded. "A pyromancer of truly gifted knowledge and skill could… maybe… ignite the air itself."
"What does that mean?"
"One man could set the world aflame."
"Oh, " he whispered, his head turned towards the night sky, looking up at the stars. He sat in silence for a moment, no doubt thinking about what I had just said. The silence was long, so long that I got up and went inside, leaving him there to ponder, for it seemed he had nothing more to ask. Of course there was no way I could ever know what I was saying was true, but from what I knew and from what I didn't know I knew, it made sense.
When I came back inside, Diana met me. "Ah, you were out with Dad. Did he give you any trouble?"
"No, no, not at all."
"Good, now I've got to go get some firewood; would you care to accompany me? Or would you rather turn in for the night?"
"I think I'll turn in. If you're fine doing that yourself, that is."
She smiled and turned, walking back towards the kitchen. Before rounding the corner, she looked back. "Goodnight."
I trudged my way upstairs and into the bedroom I was given, shutting the door.
A short while later, as I lay in the soft bed, trying to sleep, I heard footsteps climbing the stairs. Diana's room was the only one upstairs. Her steps were soft as she thought I was sleeping, but the old creaking house betrayed her courtesy. As she ascended the final step, there was a pause in her stride. The steps didn't get quieter but rather louder. The faint flickering of candlelight began to glow through the gap in the door as the steps once again came to rest. I tilted my head to see that the crack in the door was only half lit, the other cut by a shadow. Then I heard the door handle be grabbed and start to turn slowly, and then stop. After a few seconds, the handle slowly turned the other way, and the light and footsteps retreated across the hall and into the other room.
I lay there, staring at the sliver of fading light peering from under the door as I heard her walk away and disappear into her own room. The door was not locked, and nor would she know if I was asleep or not. To what end did she want to see me? I assumed she wanted to ask something or seek my aid, but assuming I was sleeping, she decided to wait till tomorrow. Perhaps I'll ask her about it later.
As I drifted into slumber, I experienced a strange dream approaching. Rather than falling into the dream, the dream took me. I saw fleeting images of things I did not understand. I saw snow atop a mountain bathed in shadow at its peak. I saw a great wave towering over the shore as it barrelled closer. I saw flame spread through the skies until it was naught but red. I saw darkness flow over a towering wall like water and engulf the land in death. All these things I saw didn't feel like a dream, as I knew I was dreaming, but rather a memory, fragmented and strange. A memory that was not mine.
Then, darkness.
It was a void I had seen before. When I looked down, I could see my own body, but all around me was naught but the faint glow of flickering light. Not starlight, but the strands of a web, though massive and pulsing slowly.
I had been here before; this was no dream.
"Wrath" My voice echoed throughout the space like a cave, coming back to me, but each echo of my word shifted until the last one that bounced back took a different form: "What?"
Was I hearing things? Or was he speaking to me? I looked around the black void for any sign of colour, to see that red glow in the darkness to assure me that he was in here and not out there. In the distance, I saw it: the faint red glow of his eyes. I watched as they grew larger and larger as he approached, though there was nothing I could see other than his eyes as they floated towards me unnaturally.
"Shinya Akame", the voice groaned out. "Finally, you stopped. Finally, I can speak."
Stopped what? I wanted to ask. Though I knew the answer, it wasn't just drinking or any specific thing. It was my yearning to die that had faded today.
"Wrath? What is this place?"
"Home." He whispered back. This was where he resided, where he is trapped. This is a prison.
"Is this… my own mind?"
"Yes."
"What have you been doing in here all this time?"
"Evolving"
I had never heard that word before. I didn't know what it meant, but his mind was my mind; our thoughts sometimes crossed over, and yet I still didn't understand. Though I could only perceive the meaning of that word as 'change', in what way, though, I didn't know.
"You do not read my mind." He didn't speak it this time; rather, I felt it in my head rather than my ears: "I let you in when it benefits me. You are a vessel, a tool, nothing more. You think you understand? You do not. Let me out."
My eyes snapped open to see Diana's face hovering over mine. She looked concerned. I glanced around the room to make sure Wrath didn't take control and do something, but I was still in the same room and the same bed. I felt a cold sweat over my body.
"Are you okay? Nightmares"
I pushed the countless racing questions to the back of my mind for now about what I had just experienced and sat up, simply nodding. There was no reason to concern her nor to give her reason to suspect my true nature. As I sat upright and leant against the headboard, she tucked her knees to her chest and held them.
"Mm, I get those too, a lot, actually. It's always the same, a mage killing me. It's weird talking about hunting them the same way we talk about hunting deer. Like… they're people too, right?"
Is this what she wanted to talk to me about last night? Did her parents talking about that at dinner last night really affect her like this? These are indeed people we're killing, but I'm no stranger to that.
"Don't think about it."
"Huh?" She turned to me in surprise, her grip around her knees released as they once again hung over the bed.
"They're on wanted posters, like a bandit, criminal, or murderer. The only difference is they are more dangerous."
"What if they aren't? What if it's a good person and they're just scared?"
I had never even considered that. I didn't know how to reply. I wanted to say, 'then they wouldn't be on a wanted poster,' but even if anyone knew they had magic, even weak magic that couldn't hurt anyone, they would be hunted the same. It's easy to forget that; all the magic I've seen has been little more than a trail of destruction and death. What if Nigel was here and he got powers? Would I hunt him too? I couldn't speak to that, but I can speak to my own beliefs.
"I only kill if I think it's justified."
"You only kill killers?"
I nodded.
"But how can you be sure?"
Once again, I didn't know how to answer because I already knew it was a lie. "You can't"
I felt the overwhelming urge to cry in that moment as I remembered again the horrible things I've done, the things that drove me to drink, the things that make me want to drink too much and then keep drinking. Memories of blood on snow, of a blinding light, of my mother and Nigel. Of things I will never see again, of a home that was lost.
"You…" Diana muttered as she looked at my face, as I could no longer control my tears. "How do you live with the things you've done?"
I watched as her eyes began to match my own; I saw a pain in them that I knew all too well, the pain of loss and it being your fault. Regret.
"I drink", I croaked out of my dry throat. After all, the home I deserve was in a bottle.