"Will my death never come?"
-Heard by inner thoughts after number 1,057.
Carrie walked with her father. It had been so long. Her father, Nun, walked with a hand on her shoulder. He didn't speak, nor did she.
The Elven city glowed faintly under lantern light, revealing towers of living wood spiraled upward, their pale bark veined with light. Bridges laced between them, high and delicate as spider silk. Normally, Carrie would have stared in awe at her home's beauty. Tonight, the weight of her father's silence crushed any joy from the sight.
After her arrival to Lindhael, her father had insisted on bringing her to the Sylord to rid her of any impurities.
"Father?" Carrie asked.
Her father didn't reply, he rarely spoke, especially when he was upset. And why wouldn't he be? By venturing beyond the city's boundaries, she'd broken Elven law—and worse, led the humans straight to them.
If Elves were leaving the city, would they join human society? The Elves had been hidden for the last five hundred years, considered to be an urban legend by most humans. Having discovered one, and taking one as a slave would change human and Elven history forever.
It was all her fault, though she wouldn't be executed like the humans would. Elves didn't kill or even harm their own kind, they weren't humans after all.
A loud sound was made to Carrie's right. She and the surrounding Elves turned to the sound. Her father bolted to the scene, leaving her in the street. Carrie took off after him, she knew she'd probably get in trouble for it, but she couldn't help but to be curious.
She walked around the corner of a building to find her father on the ground, a knife pointed down at him. She looked on in horror when she recognized five separate Elves on the ground, the Silcureuss guard. They were all either unconscious or dead.
The man who held a knife turned to look at her with a single eye, the other hidden behind a hood. She froze, his right eye was black as night, and he was covered by a thin cloak that went down to his knees. His hair was reflective, silver in color, and went down a few inches past his shoulders.
Carrie fell back, the aura of the man who stared her down left her with one thought: Death. Death was here, he had come to the city to exact retribution. Carrie wanted to run, but where would she go? Death was no mortal being, he was a concept, an idea that outran light itself.
Death's aura smothered her hope, replacing them with nightmares. It felt as though his whole self was pushing against her, suffocating her very will to live.
He took a step in her direction.
She blinked, and he was there, a hand on her cheek. His eye looked deeply into hers, gazing at her soul, she was going to die. She tried screaming, nothing came out, her voice wouldn't obey her.
Until it did, she screamed, shooting up from her bed, her scream waking her up. Carrie breathed heavily, and she was sweating horribly. She looked around frantically, she was in Vicky's hobble.
Vicky ran into Carrie's room a moment later, wearing her nightgown. Her hair a mess, and dark circles around her eyes, indicating she had been woken up.
"Whit's wrang!?" Vicky called out.
Carrie didn't respond, her mind was still trying to process what she'd dreamt about. Death, Carrie thought, is death after me? Is this a warning? Elves rarely had dreams, but when they did, it always meant something.
"Carrie?" Vicky asked.
Carrie's breathing was slowing, but she looked up to Vicky. "It was nothing," said Carrie, "just a nightmare."
"Are ye sure?" Vicky asked, looking at Carrie like she'd just gotten out of a fight.
Carrie nodded, the motion small and mechanical, then slowly laid back down. The blanket felt too thin, the night too quiet. She stared at the ceiling, her heart refusing to slow.
Sleep should have come easily—her body was exhausted—but her mind clung to the edges of consciousness like a drowning swimmer refusing to let go. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face.
Not just the memory of him, but the way he had looked right before—eyes dead. Skin pale, and…
She rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket tighter, as if it could shield her from the dream she knew was coming. But it wasn't a dream. It was him. And somewhere inside, she feared he was still watching, still waiting—just on the other side of sleep.
Green and Zachry sprinted toward one another, locking inner elbows as they passed. The sudden motion spun them both around, each facing the opposite direction before bolting forward again.
Zachry met a War Shadow already frozen mid-motion. Green faced two that weren't. He fired once—one fell, the other came on.
The living Shadow swung. Green dropped to his knees, parrying its claws as his momentum carried him into a slide. One hand hit the ground; he pushed off, springing back to his feet.
Grinning, he drove his hand through the live Shadow, melting it. Then he ran, zigzagging through the fog. Five Shadows left—and now, they were desperate.
One seized his ankle. Green crashed forward but rolled, landing on his feet again. The Shadows glided after him, their bodies half-submerged in the earth, more drifting than running.
One lunged. Three claws slashed the air where his chest had been. Instead of parrying, Green dropped flat, the strike whispering over him. He rose as they wheeled back and drew his pistol.
Two shots—two Shadows froze. The third turned to flee, but Zachry was already there, tearing into them, ripping out their cores, allowing Green to shoot the third. Zachry handed two to Green.
Green sat, biting into one as he used the second to reload. Zachry used another to start a fire. Two down. Three to go.
The mixed pulx rounds had other benefits, though. They kept Zachry from burning through his mana—and the fusion of separation and umbra pulx caused frozen Shadows to decay.
He was curious what the rounds would do to a human, but he'd have to forgo any experimentation until he can attempt it safely.
Green holstered his pistol and met Zachry's gaze. A nod passed between them. They'd taken three to four per round.
Time to finish this.
Zachry put out the fire, and he and Green ran in separate directions. The moment darkness came Zachry used nearion. Everything around him became a light as though morphel vines had grown in an instant.
Zachry stopped when he saw it. A single War Shadow. By focusing less on him and more on Green, they told him he wasn't worth as much.
That was just fine with him, he didn't need to take revenge. He'd already tried. He'd already had emotions swirl within him, hatred, anger, regret, the desire to kill, and the desire to end his own life. He'd felt it all, and was finished with them. He didn't want vengeance, he just wanted to go home
Thae things hae nae pouer ower me noo, Zachry thought resolutely. He and the War Shadow charged at one another.
Zachry acted first, swinging his blade, and having it pass through the monster's head. The monster had a claw go to his gut. Zachry deflected the claw with his hand, then used the temporally touchable hand to swing himself and the Shadow apart.
He didn't let up however, as he bolted at the thing once again. He parried the Shadow's claw with his blade, then punched the War Shadow's core. His hand went through, not doing any actual damage, but his fist inside the thing caused some kind of distortion in the creature.
Zachry smiled, opening his hand to reveal a twig. The mark on his clove lit up, causing one to burst alive inside the War Shadow.
Zachry grabbed the core with his now burned hand, the War Shadows from melting into a puddle. He had a way to kill these things now. Well, Green did. But Zachry could fight them now.
He turned away, running to Green, who had blood flowing out of his right shoulder.
Green must have noticed him, for he started in his direction. They passed one another, and Zachry thrusted his blade into one War Shadow. He pulled out, going into a spin and cutting off the head of a second. The third passed him, charging toward Green.
Zachry let it go, instead focusing on getting the cores from the two he'd killed. He held the cores, Suppose it's aboot ower noo, Zachry thought. He'd killed three of the four, and Green would undoubtedly kill the last. He could go home.
He stood there, looking up at the glowing vines above. He could give the cores to Green, then go home. And for once, he wouldn't be followed. Ah'm comin' hame, Vicky. Zachry thought, gripping a core, and holding it to his chest.
Green walked with Zachry. After the War Shadows had been killed off, they found themselves to be utterly lost. They would find their way eventually of course. With Green mapping their route in his head, he would circle in on the village at the very least.
"Hae ye ever had someone, Green?" Zachry asked.
Green paused his thought process, Zachry had been quite talkative lately. Green supposed he'd been silent for some time, and was now using Green to express himself.
"I've had teachers," Green replied.
"No," Zachry said, "Ah mean someone special, someone wha's changed ye, made ye better?"
Though he had become more talkative, it didn't change his tone. He still sounded like a hardened soldier.
"I suppose my sister would fill that role." Green answered, his tone equally despondent.
"Naw, a significant ither, a person ye'd dae onything for." Zachry said.
Green paused, thinking for a moment, a significant other huh? Green looked up at the morphel vines that began to shine, the sun must be setting. Green thought back a few years, the moment he did however, a tear rolled down his cheek.
He wiped it away quickly, hardening his heart. Zachry was behind him, he wouldn't have seen. Though thought of her relayed the things he and Carrie had been through, how they had spent their time together.
Green's ears twitched slightly, but found it to be different. She's like a daughter I could never have, Green thought. The hole in his chest returned a moment later, and he shook his head.
Carrie looked and acted so much like her. And she had the natural curiosity he'd had when he was younger. It seemed so logical, but the idea made him sick. Made his stomach twist in a way that made him want to hurl.
"No," Green answered. "No I don't."
Zachry looked at him, and Green caught a brief hint of disappointment in his eyes. Green ignored that. He had answered truthfully, neither her nor Carrie would be considered someone Green was close with. At least that's what felt right.
Green continued his walk, following the patterns of morphel vines. He looked up, then pointed.
"There," Green said, pointing southwest.
He and Zachry walked through chest high wild grass. They bumped into and walked around some Borxt, then found it. A massive wall of glowing morphel vines.
They had made it back.