Noel Faust

​I was standing in the courtyard. Sil suddenly pulled me outside.

​"How have you been, Artie?" she said the moment we were alone.

​"I... how did you—"

​She slowly put her hands on my face. "So this is your new look. It will take some time getting used to."

​One of her hands was cold to the touch. "Sil..."

​"You know, I was really worried. In fact, I was prepared to go on a rampage, killing every single person I saw that bore the mark in the image you sent."

​Her hand rested right on the mark. Though it was concealed, she used a cool mist to dissipate it.

​"Your benefactor proved quite useful."

​"Sil!" I said louder. Tears were running down her face. I had hardly ever seen her cry.

​I hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry."

​"Really, you should be. Don't get me wrong. I..."

​She finally cracked. I just held her tightly. I didn't know what to say. My chest ached that I had caused her so much pain.

​"I have to do something horrible, Sil," I said silently.

​"I know."

​"And I don't feel like I can do it, but it's the only way forward."

​I pulled back, looking into her eyes. "How did he find you? Did the creature hurt you?"

​"No, no."

​Silica Faeryn

​"Tell me everything. Quickly," I said, turning to Renaldyn.

​"Patience, patience," he responded. "I deal in bargains; I cannot freely give away information."

​"Then hurry and name your price."

​He had transported us to a lightless realm. Though I could see a glowing table, set with two cups, chairs, and a steaming kettle.

​"Curious, isn't it? How both you and Artie alike are all too willing to give everything for uncertainty. And with no less a disgusting creature like myself."

​I didn't care what the creature looked like. I could sense it. That same power that was present at the scene of Artie's death. If there was a potential for him to be alive, I would do whatever I must.

​"Quit jabbering and name your price," I repeated.

​"You're proud of your swordsmanship, are you not, Princess?" The creature responded.

​"What of it?" I responded.

​The room began to shift, a heat creeping into the space that was suffocating.

​"Then I'd be awfully happy to have your sword arm," it said. I simply stared at it.

​"Cute," I said. "In exchange for?"

​"I'll let you know what happened to your dear Artie."

​"Okay." I raised my hand, summoning my ice blade in my left hand. Slicing through at the forearm, taking my arm off. "Surely you can retrieve it yourself, yes?"

​The creature was silent, almost as if it was stunned.

​"Talk," I said. I used ice to cover my wound, slowly forming an arm made of ice to replace the one I lost. The pain was excruciating. I felt light-headed. Yet none of it mattered.

​"It would seem as if I underestimated you. Very well, you're not like Artie."

​"Don't speak ill of him," I said quietly. "He's the reason I am able to make a decision like this."

​"Of course, of course. Now, allow me to tell you the story of those cursed by the goddess of light." The area shifted again, the dark expanse giving way to a ritualistic area, rife with various Canine Fennaari carrying about their lives.

​Then I saw her. Beatrice. She was being rushed toward a small hut. The desert air bit at them as a vicious storm seemed to be brewing. "Damn it," she said. She was pregnant.

​"A visage of the past."

​"All will be revealed," the creature said, seeming to almost respectfully decline to comment further.

​Beatrice was laid on a hay bed, the woman next to her brushing her hair back and filling a bucket with water. "Sister, I have a bad feeling about this."

​Beatrice wailed in pain. "A very bad feeling."

​The woman was the spitting image of Beatrice, though she looked a bit older, or perhaps just more stressed, with brown skin and dark auburn hair cascading down her shoulders.

​"Bea, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... are you sure you still..."

​"Even if... it's impossible the child could have been conceived. Even if it's certain it will be cursed... it's not fair to deny him the opportunity to live."

​"But your health!" her sister shouted.

​"I'm fine!" she yelled back. "I understand, I do not deny or judge what you did three years ago, Sister. The curse will course through every single woman until a child is born. I do not wish to see others suffer... and, something is different."

​"What's different? What do you mean?"

​"The symptoms you and the others had, the dreadful feeling that you'd die... the pain is here, but that is not. I believe the child is protecting me."

​"Impossible..."

​"And yet it is true. Asher, this child will be Ranar'ti, shunned. Their warmth is so brilliant... almost suffocating. I do not wish to see it snuffed by the harsh bullying of our people," she whispered.

​"Then we can—"

​"You know what I must do," Beatrice interrupted.

​Asher's canine ears flattened, tears streaking into her eyes. "No."

​"I must go."

​"You're all I have, Bea. You're the hope of our entire tribe." Her expression turned dark. "Is it the cursed child clinging to survival influencing you? Is that what it is?"

​"A-Asher, no, what are you saying?"

​The storm outside raged. Beatrice contorted in further pain, screaming.

​"It harms you even now! Beatrice, we... I must do something."

​Asher's eyes seemed to almost glitch. Watching the image, I started. "What's happening?"

​"Watch to the end," the benefactor simply stated.

​I looked at the creature... it was almost... longing.

​Asher started toward Beatrice, eyes clouded over as a golden light began to pour from her eyes, replacing the tears.

​"I have to kill it," she mumbled, repeating herself.

​Beatrice panicked, trying to scoot upward on the stack of hay but ultimately falling to the ground. She shifted enough to ensure she didn't fall on her stomach. "What's wrong, Asher? What's been done to you?"

​"Kill..." she repeated.

​Beatrice scrambled to her feet, the pain of labor almost sending her right back to her knees, yet she held firm. "You will not touch my child," she said, staring at her. "Do not... make me do this, please. Whatever force has taken her over, please! Don't do this! Asher, come to!"

​Her words fell on deaf ears. Asher lunged toward her ferally. Beatrice sharpened her claws and tore into her sister's arm, pinning her. Yet Asher kept moving.

​"Kill... kill... me... sister... kill me... I can't... control."

​Beatrice went silent, choking a sob. "Asher." She looked into her sister's eyes.

​"Name the little one after me, will you? Perhaps... Artie?" she said through snarls and gnashed teeth.

​Beatrice took a long cut to her face, pushing her arm in further on Asher, tearing into the clay hut enough to take a chunk off.

​"You were always horrible with names. Artie it is, sister. I love you."

​I couldn't watch the end. I fell to my knees.

​"Miss Beatrice never said..."

​"Sister always had trouble speaking about these things," the creature said.

​I turned, looking at the creature. "I'm not Asher. Not fully, anyway. I'm a coagulation of every body killed by the goddess of light since the dawn of time. Beautiful, aren't I?" The creature said.

​"So this is your memory. Yet you revived Artie... or, no, you didn't," I said, realization dawning on me. "You tricked him. He was going to revive regardless. That's part of his curse."

​"I'm sorry."

​"I should..." I started. "Damn it. He doesn't like hurting people," I said. "What are you having him do?"

​"Restore fragments of lost souls, before the light goddess takes hold of them... I branded him, or rather them, as a Sinner. So that the goddess cannot track them..." It trailed off. "It has side effects."

​"Make me one, too."