The last god was different from the others. Every account agrees on this even when they disagree on everything else. He had watched the others fall. He understood what was coming. But he did not fight. He hid.
She found him anyway. The accounts call this the hunt of four seasons. They do not describe how she felt, finding him at last. They only record what she did when she found him.
— Chronicle of the First Age. Ledger Archives, Marialis branch. Transcriber unknown.
The first light of morning had begun to illuminate the room, yet the room had already come alive long before, as if it had been waiting for the sun itself. Everyone was preparing with complete focus, and not a single human voice echoed through the room. The beds and the table were covered with weapons and other equipment, as though preparations for war were underway. As Kaelin adjusted her clothes and the dagger at her waist, she scanned the room with her eyes.
In one corner Ravah was inspecting her special batons, sharpening the blades at their tips even further. Beside them lay small knives and several small metal tools Kaelin had never seen before. Every time she looked at her, the impression that she was a true warrior only grew stronger. The fact that she moved as if nothing were wrong, even though her wounds had only recently healed, proved it as well. Right beside her, Tivver was checking two daggers and many different small tools one by one before slipping them into his pockets in what seemed like a carefully practiced order. Kaelin had no idea what most of them were for, but she recognized the small pouches similar to the ones he had used on the day they rescued her. They were the kind of weapons that burst and filled the area with dust and smoke when thrown, and their usefulness was beyond dispute. The thought had already begun circling in Kaelin’s mind that Tivver, despite his size, was far more useful than she was. That realization only tightened the growing fear that she might become a burden to them.
“Not everyone has to be a warrior,” Darian said beside her, having guessed what she was thinking with unsettling accuracy. “What matters is not simply defeating every enemy on a battlefield. What matters is doing whatever you can, whether it seems small or large, and being there for them.” He spoke without looking at her while gathering the items laid out on the bed. Aside from the dagger at his belt, he carried nothing that could truly be called a weapon. Instead he had numerous herbs, medicines, and many other things Kaelin couldn’t identify. She said nothing in reply, but she thought about what he had said. If Darian hadn’t been there, Ravah would most likely not have survived. And if Tivver hadn’t been there, they might have been captured many times already.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Kaelin replied at last. “But even if I’m not a warrior, I don’t have tricks and tools like Tivver, and I don’t have healing abilities like you.”
“There is a power inside everyone,” Darian said calmly, “you just have to find it and polish it. That’s what all of us are doing already. The fact that I’m useless on a battlefield doesn’t make me a burden to them. It wasn’t easy to overcome that thought, but being able to heal them is the only thing they ever expected from me—if I could manage it. No one expects you to become some extraordinary warrior or to save all of us. We only expect you to stand beside us. That’s all. And most of the time, the greatest contribution is simply being there.”
Although a slight sense of relief reached Kaelin, she still let out a quiet sigh and sat down at the edge of the bed.
“Besides,” Darian continued, “I’m certain there is a power inside you as well—something you never expected. And I’m not talking about the thing that’s been causing trouble for you. I mean the power passed down to you from your family. None of us has better ammunition than believing in ourselves.”
“I don’t know how that power would help in situations like this,” Kaelin admitted. “I wish I could fight like Vaelra. I mean, she was amazing at the docks. And with that dark shadow… she was terrifying enough to walk straight into people’s nightmares.”
“The truth is she doesn’t really know what she has either,” Darian said. “The shadow may be frightening, but we know nothing about it. So there isn’t actually much difference between the two of you. As for the fighting part, I watched her improve over time right in front of my eyes. If you want to learn how to fight, the best teacher is already within reach.”
At that thought, Kaelin’s expression grew noticeably more determined. As plans began forming in her mind, she glanced across the room toward Ravah. “Do you think she would train me?” she whispered.
“I have no doubt,” Darian said. “But you misunderstood me. Yes, Ravah is an incredible warrior, and someone many people are afraid of. But she wasn’t the one who trained Vaelra.” Kaelin looked at him with clear surprise. “You haven’t seen the real monster yet. Though, to be honest, I hope you never have to.” He nodded subtly toward Veylith, who was leaning over the table near the window preparing her equipment.
“But she—” Kaelin began.
“She uses pistols, yes,” Darian finished for her. “But that’s only a matter of preference. Neutralizing a threat from a distance is the safest way. She never wants to fight or kill. That’s why she’s such a good leader. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to fight. Quite the opposite. The thing she fears most isn’t close combat or an enemy—it’s herself. Because she’s quiet and slender, people easily forget that she has more battle experience than even someone my age. I know she served in the army in the past, even in a special unit—at least that much I managed to get out of her. But I can tell you that what she’s seen and lived through would be enough for most people across three lifetimes.”
After hearing this, Kaelin began watching Veylith more carefully. Toward her she felt nothing but trust—even though that still seemed strange to her—and that trust only deepened the guilt she felt about what had happened that morning. She had kept her distance from her all day, but not because she was afraid.
“Take this,” Darian said suddenly, interrupting her thoughts and holding out a short leather cord. Kaelin couldn’t gather her thoughts quickly enough and simply stared at the object in her hand in confusion.
“For your hair,” he said, placing it in her palm. “I’m sorry, but those beautiful strands flying everywhere won’t give you any advantage in a fight.”
Kaelin exhaled and smiled at the gesture. Holding the cord and looking at him, she began to say, “Tha—”
“Uh-uh,” Darian cut her off immediately. Kaelin remembered the rule just in time and nearly said sorry, but managed to stop herself. Noticing this, Darian gave her a reassuring smile. “You’ll see it becomes much easier once you get used to it. Now tie your hair and go talk to her already,” he added, nodding toward Veylith. After offering her a warm smile, he returned to gathering his supplies. Kaelin’s smile faded into a more hesitant expression as she watched Veylith.
But eventually she tied her hair with the cord and walked toward her with quiet determination. She had almost reached her when she noticed that Veylith was shaping small beads from a piece of metal in her hands.
“Whoa,” Kaelin said instinctively.
Veylith had noticed her approach long before but hadn’t shown it. At the exclamation she glanced at her briefly without lifting her head.
“How do you do that?” Kaelin continued, nearly forgetting why she had come to speak with her in the first place.
“It’s a power I was born with,” Veylith explained. Because she had never been good at small talk, giving direct answers had always come more easily to her. “I can shape small objects. In my case, that means I can turn almost any solid material into ammunition.”
“These are the things you use in your weapons, right?”
“Bullets, yes.”
“So you load them into these round things and keep them ready,” Kaelin said, picking up one of the circular metal pieces.
“I need them to stay full so I can change the magazines quickly and keep firing.”
“I had heard about these weapons before, but I’d never seen one up close.”
Without looking at her, Veylith extended a pistol without a magazine toward Kaelin. When Kaelin took it, the first thing she noticed was that it was heavier than it looked. She had also seen how it recoiled when fired, and began to realize that controlling it was probably not easy either. Then she remembered the previous day when Veylith had used them.
“You’re incredibly good with these. I mean, it was hard just to follow.”
"The key is not to think."
“Not to think?”
“If I think too hard or strain my muscles, I might not hit the spot I want. I just go with the flow. My body moves on its own and hits all the targets.” She paused for a moment. “In fact, sometimes I think I could hit my target even with my eyes closed.”
"Of course, there are also other factors." She continued. "Years of experience," she says quietly, "and the script the army carved into me. At this point, they're hardly different from an extension of my arm."
Kaelin noticed that she had said that part more quietly. It was clear she didn’t want to talk about it, yet Kaelin couldn’t stop herself.
“A script?”
Veylith sighed as if she instantly regretted mentioning it, but she didn’t snap at her. “There’s a script engraved into my back. A charm that lets me see farther and more clearly. One of the upgrades the army makes to its own weapons.”
“Really? That’s so—” Kaelin began excitedly, but stopped midway when she realized Veylith did not see it the same way. It took her a moment to understand that the subject made her uncomfortable. She slowly placed the pistol back on the table and looked at Veylith, who had resumed loading bullets into the magazines.
“About the argument this morning…” she began. Veylith paused in her work but kept her eyes on the magazine in her hand. “I shouldn’t have treated you like that. For that I—”
Veylith suddenly looked at her, and Kaelin stopped. It was as if she were waiting for the next words. Kaelin gathered her thoughts again, realizing that excuses or regret had no real value here. No one expected apologies or thanks—both were ghosts of things already past.
“Next time,” she said quietly, “I’ll be there beside you.”
After a faint but unmistakable moment of relief, Veylith looked into her eyes. “I know.”
For a short while the two of them continued looking at each other in silence. Kaelin knew she was a cold person, yet she had never once behaved rudely or harshly. On the contrary, she now realized that in her own way Veylith had always acted with a certain quiet grace. The door to the room suddenly swung open with a sharp, noisy force, cutting that strange yet deeper-than-it-seemed moment short.
Harrik was normally a calm and gentle man, but this morning the tension seemed to have spread through his entire body. At this hour he was usually tired and would make a round through the corridors before going to bed. His wide-open eyes and rapid speech were things the others rarely saw. “You don’t have much time left. You need to get there before everything begins.”
“Relax, old man. We’ll be leaving in a moment. You know we can’t walk there through empty streets. We have to wait for the city to wake up. We’ll be there before things get messy,” Tivver replied in his usual loose manner.
Harrik disliked his character and didn’t bother hiding it, but the fact that Tivver wasn’t wrong only irritated him more. Grumbling, he walked past him toward the window and approached the table where Veylith was finishing her preparations.
“As I told you last night, I can’t help you inside there or change the plan,” he said. “We’re not doing this for you. The entire city is about to descend into chaos, and the only thing I can offer is a way out. Getting in and getting out will be up to you.”
While stuffing the loaded magazines into her coat and the belt at her waist, Veylith replied calmly, “Don’t worry. We weren’t expecting much from you anyway. You know we wouldn’t be joining you today if one of ours wasn’t in trouble.”
Harrik nodded with a low grunt.
“If we manage to get out of there, that’s when we’ll need you,” she continued. “If you’re not at the meeting point, getting out of there alive will be nearly impossible.”
“I’ll be there,” Harrik said, looking straight into her eyes. “You just make sure you get out… with her.”
“We don’t have another choice,” Veylith replied at last, slipping the pistols behind her and into the holsters at her waist. “When does it start?”
“In about an hour people will start gathering in front of the guild halls. After that they’ll move toward the center. I expect the Warden units to block our path before long. And once that happens, things getting ugly will be almost inevitable. Especially if the Ledger’s men get involved—and they definitely will.”
“Good,” Veylith said. She sounded determined, yet calm as a corpse. That calmness had always made Harrik uneasy. He knew she wasn’t a threat to him, but he could never shake the feeling that there was something unsettling about her. After throwing on her coat, she turned to the others. “We’re going.” She started walking toward the door. The others moved at the same moment, as if they had been waiting for that signal, and followed her without a single word. A few seconds later Harrik was left alone in the room, staring at the open door they had left behind.
“I hope we all make it out alive tonight.”
◈◈◈
There had been no change in the thin line of light slipping under the door, not even the shadow of someone passing by. Yet Vaelra guessed that hours had passed—perhaps it was even morning now. The faint sounds and vibrations coming from outside had begun to increase. After all, she had nothing to do but lie on the cold stone floor all night, listening to the heartbeat of the city.
The cold had never lessened, and she had barely slept because of the pain. Perhaps she had fainted once for a short time, but she couldn’t even be certain of that, deprived of her senses as she was. The pain from the wound in her arm had now spread into her shoulder. The bleeding had slowed, though for an open wound that wasn’t exactly good news. She could feel the blood that had run down her arm drying into a hardened layer over her skin.
Even if she managed to find an opportunity to escape, she was beginning to realize she no longer had the strength to do it. That thought had already started pulling her toward darker places. She wasn’t someone who would be humiliated and hanged in front of the crowd. She had lived on her own terms and she would die on her own terms. But she still hoped she could take as many of them with her as possible.
The sound of the bolt was different this time—sharper, but quicker. When Vaelra heard it, she was drifting somewhere between sleep and something far worse. She didn’t move; that had become pointless hours ago. But she opened her eyes and watched the strip of light beneath the door widen as it illuminated the room.
Tarr’en entered first. There was no chair this time—that was the first thing she noticed. Then Rhoren stepped inside, though he stopped after only one step and remained standing by the doorway. From that angle it looked like the reluctant dragging of someone forced to be here. Suddenly Tarr’en appeared in front of her. He had crouched down and leaned toward her. She hadn’t expected that. “You look worse,” he whispered.
“No need to be so romantic,” Vaelra replied, though it was obvious that speaking cost her effort.
Tarr’en studied the wound on her arm and the dried blood carefully. Then he took a piece of cloth from his pocket, placed a few small fragments of something inside it, and began wrapping it around her arm. Vaelra was surprised by the gesture. She had been almost certain they had simply left her here to die. Still, she couldn’t drop the mask.
“Men usually don’t give me flowers like this.”
“We have the small problem of keeping you alive until the Hunter arrives,” Tarr’en replied calmly. “I need to make sure you don’t die before he takes the truth from you. Believe me, Miss Vaelra, I don’t enjoy this either. Besides, I promised Captain Rhoren I would keep you healthy enough for him to hang you in the square.”
“Exactly the kindness and mercy we needed.”
Tarr’en paused for a moment without changing his expression. “Look. To keep this simple and avoid dragging it out, I’m giving you one last chance. Where is the girl?”
“We all watched the boat leave, didn’t we?”
“All the boats that left yesterday were searched at their destinations. None of them had a stowaway.”
Vaelra felt a moment of surprise at that. Either they had jumped into the water while still at sea, or— Fortunately she didn’t have enough energy left to let that expression reach her face. Tarr’en leaned closer again, pressing two fingers directly into the wound on her arm. The sound that escaped her mouth was no longer a scream. It was closer to the sound of someone dying.
“Where?”
“I—” she began, but the rest never came.
Tarr’en pressed harder. Her vision suddenly blurred, and his voice seemed to grow distant. When he finally withdrew his fingers, her body was trembling. She had held on until now, but she knew she was close to the end. Her half-open eyes began searching the man for any kind of blade. Rhoren had a sword and a dagger, but she would never reach them in her condition. While she desperately searched for a way to end everything, Tarr’en stood up again. “Think carefully,” he said, wiping his hand with a handkerchief. “I’ll return tonight with someone far worse than me. It would be wise to talk before then. Otherwise it will be too late.”
He had just begun to say something else when hurried footsteps sounded from the hall and a voice shouted:
“Captain!”
A few seconds later a man appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily. Vaelra could only see the tips of his boots. “What?” Rhoren barked at the young man. “Captain… something is starting in the city,” the man replied. “You should come see it.”
Tarr’en and Rhoren exchanged a hard glance. Then Rhoren sighed and muttered, “What now?” before leaving the room. Tarr’en stepped to the door and leaned slightly outside. When he returned, he was holding a cup of water. The small clay cup was filled to the brim. He set it down on the floor directly in front of Vaelra. She lay on the ground with one ear pressed against the stone, but her eyes followed the man rather than the cup. She still looked as if she were searching for something.
“You have until tonight,” Tarr’en said as he stepped back. Then he turned and left the room. The door closed softly behind him and the bolt slid back into place with a harsh scrape. A few seconds later the fading footsteps disappeared, leaving darkness and silence behind once again.
The thin line of light beneath the door reflected faintly on the surface of the water in the cup. Vaelra had reached the end. If she survived until someone opened that door again, she would attack the first person who entered and pray for death. Her eyes drifted to the reflection on the surface of the water while her mind wandered to the others. That small selfish hope had now been replaced with a different thought:
I hope they aren’t doing something stupid. She knew now it wouldn’t be worth it.
But just as she was about to close her eyes, she felt different vibrations through the stone beneath her. A few minutes later she could hear distant sounds growing louder. Even the water in the cup had begun to ripple faintly.
Something was happening. And it was getting closer.