The first soul Kaen ever sent to the abyss was her own.

It happened in a rain-slicked stable, smelling of blood and sweet hay. She was five years old—a mere child. The void didn’t feel like power when it woke inside her. It felt like freezing to death from the inside out. It was the sound of a girl’s neck breaking, the light leaving forest green eyes of Leah Vertimonte, and the subsequent, absolute silence in Kaen’s soul where that loss should have been. The abyss filled that silence, and when it looked out through her eyes, three men who had killed Leah Vertimonte now soaked in blood, lifeless. Their blood stained her hands.

That was eight years ago. The abyss was a quiet tenant now, a coiled chill behind her ribs. Most days, she could pretend it was just another scar. Tonight, it was just a spectator watching a play where it watched her hunt down the very creature she herself was.

And the most dangerous thing in the war between humans and non-humans was a human who had chosen the other side. She was that human.

The desert wind, a constant whisperer of secrets across the endless sea of sand, carried the scent of dry sage and distant smoke to the cliff’s edge. Below, nestled like a parasitic insect against the jewel of a small oasis, the slavers’ camp flickered with the sullen orange eye of a single, large fire. The silence up here was profound, broken only by the sigh of the wind and the soft, controlled breathing of the elf kneeling in the dust.

“Orders, Sir.”

Mina kept her head bowed, her eyes tracing the intricate patterns formed by the grit beneath her knees. The rough, homespun fabric of her trousers—human-made and a relic of a life she was trying to forget—scratched against her skin. She focused on that sensation, on the coolness of the night air on the back of her neck, and on the solid weight of her wooden bow resting on her back.

“How many are being held?” The voice was calm, steady, but undeniably young. It held a casual, almost melodic quality that belied the authority it carried.

Mina’s response was immediate, rehearsed in her mind a dozen times since Arya’s silent return. “Around fourteen, Sir. A mix. Arya saw pointed ears, fur, and scales. There are four tents total, but only the big one on the east side holds the... The captives.” She spoke. “All bound. Arya’s in the dunes about fifty paces south of the oasis pool. He’s waiting for the signal.”

Her master, Sir Kaen, gave a slow, considering nod. The hood tilted as he scanned the camp. “Guards?”

“Two awake by the fire. Four asleep in the smaller tents. They’re… lax. Confident. But they've got guard dogs.” Mina’s dark eyes, when she finally dared a flickering glance upward, were hesitant. “They’re using the dogs as a deterrent.”

“Hmm. Idiots, they really think guard dogs are enough to survive a night in the dunes.” Kaen’s tone was one of mild academic disappointment, as if critiquing a poorly drawn map. “Wait a little longer, Mina. Let the fire die down, let the night get into their bones, and then you strike when their eyelids are heaviest. Signal Arya with the Birds whistle—he’ll know. The dogs, cause a ruckus by shooting burning arrows near them from a distance, make them bark crazy. It’ll cause chaos, but it’ll be chaos pointed at them. Your task is retrieval and restraint, slowly from behind the chaos, not slaughter. Let Arya go crazy, break everything, make them panic"

“Yes, Sir.” The plan was clean, efficient. Her blood began to sing with anticipatory focus.

“I’ll be waiting with Lilly at our camp. And Mina,” Kaen finally turned from the cliff’s edge. The movement caused the hood to slip back just enough, and a shaft of moonlight illuminated his face— 'her' face, though none who followed her knew that truth yet. A youthful, almost delicate face, framed by a shock of unruly crimson hair that seemed to hold the memory of fire. But it was the eyes that commanded, as they always did. Bright, molten gold, they shone with an inner light that made the pale desert moon seem dull. They were eyes of an ancient-like descent in a thirteen year old’s face, though a strange, weary dullness often lingered at their edges, a shadow of something she never spoke of. “Make sure the perpetrators are tied securely. Donna’s border patrol will collect them at dawn. I’ve already sent my message.”

He held her gaze, and in that golden regard, Mina’s lingering anxieties melted away, reforged into purpose. Those eyes had found her a year ago, in a filth-strewn cellar in a human border town. She and Arya, each other's only family...chained and destined for a fighting pit. Kaen had been just a shadow then, a whisper of movement, but those eyes had blazed in the darkness, a promise of fury and salvation. He’d cut their bonds without a word, and they had followed those eyes ever since. He was younger than her by at least five years, a mere child, yet he towered over her in every way that mattered.

“Now,” Kaen said, the casual firmness returning. “Go. Don’t fail.” It wasn’t a threat. It was an expectation. One she would die to meet.

“It won't take long, master.” A fierce, focused look spread across Mina’s soft, pale face, the loyalty she wore like armour gleaming in the night. "Arya and I will be back in an hour" With a fluid motion, she was gone, melting into the tapestry of shadows and rock, silent as the descent of a hunting owl.

A gust of wind, stronger now, pushed at Kaen’s cloak, finally tossing the hood fully back. She let it, the cool air feeling good on her skin. She watched the empty spot where Mina had been for a heartbeat, then turned.

“Mina okay?”

The small voice was a thread of worry from her right. Kaen looked down. Lillian, a little girl of two mixed genes, half-elf, half-goblin, clung to her hand, her small fingers applying a surprisingly strong pressure. The child’s features were predominantly elven—the large, luminous magenta eyes, the elegantly pointed ears that poked through her straight, neatly combed pale pink hair. But her skin was a smooth, light shade of sage green. She was found shivering and abandoned six months ago near a scorched village on the human border. Kaen had taken her in without a word.

“You worry too much, Lillian,” Kaen replied, her tone softening into something genuinely young. She reached down and pinched the girl’s green cheek gently. “Mina has big awesome bows, remember? and Arya punches preety big. They’ll be okay”

“Are Mina and Arya strong?” Lilly asked, her words fumbling, but her big magenta eyes wide as they followed Kaen’s gaze toward the hidden camp. “Strong like Kan?”

Kaen let out a soft snort, a very un-master-like sound. She started walking back from the cliff edge, her boots making soft crunches in the sand. Lilly scampered to keep up, now clinging to her arm. “Who knows? Do you think they’re stronger than me?”

Lilly’s brow furrowed, the question was clearly a complex puzzle. She took her role as Kaen’s companion very seriously. “Mina fast." She declared "Like fast birdy" Kaen looked down at her, an eyebrow raised, but in amusement. Lilly continued in her small, serious voice "Arya is… big. Like nice mountain.” She paused, struggling. “Kaen is… Kaen have shiny eyes. And shoo away bad people” Lilly looked lost, her face in a struggle as she came to the final conclusion “Lilly have no answer Kan..”

Kaen listened to the small, stumbling words, a faint, sad smile touching her lips. She looked up at the sprawling tapestry of stars, the same stars that shone over human kingdoms and elven forests, over goblin villages and giant mountain holds. How long had it been since she’d last stood in a city? Since she’d last worn a dress? Since she’d last answered to the name of her father's lineage? The memory was a phantom limb, sometimes aching, mostly numb.

“They’re strong in their own ways,” she said, more to herself than to Lilly. “Mina’s strong because she chooses to be kind despite what she’s seen. Arya’s strong because he chooses to be gentle despite the power he has. That’s a different kind of strength.”

They reached their own meagre camp, a sheltered alcove in a rock face with a tiny, shielded fire of its own. Kaen sat on a log, and Lilly immediately crawled into her lap, a small, warm weight seeking comfort. The child watched the distant, unseen oasis, as if she could sense the tension building there.

“Why do humans… do bad?” Lilly asked quietly, playing with a frayed thread on Kaen’s tunic. “The slaver humans mean.”

Kaen didn't immediately answer, her golden eyes fixed on their own small flames. The disgust rose in her throat, bitter and familiar. She was one of them. A human. A member of the species that had turned this world into a patchwork of blood and borders. Their greed was a bottomless pit. Their fear of anything different was a sickness. Their lust for dominion—over land, over magic, over other beings—had united every other race in a desperate, fragile alliance of “not-human.” And she couldn’t blame them. Not one bit.

“Mankind,” she began, her voice dropping into that strange, rhythmic cadence it sometimes took, older than her years, “is the mightiest creation of God. They were given the sharpest minds, the most adaptable spirits, the greatest potential.” The firelight danced in her irises, making them look like pools of liquid metal. “But they looked at their gift and saw only themselves. They forgot the Creator. They forgot the world was a garden to tend, not a treasure to loot. They saw the elf’s grace and wanted to break it. They saw the giant’s strength and wanted to chain it. They saw the goblin’s cunning and wanted to exploit it.” Her arm tightened gently around Lilly. “In their pride, they fell. And they’re still falling. What a tragic fate for them.”

Lilly was silent, absorbing the words she only half-understood. “But Kan good human,” she stated, innocently voicing the contradiction that was the core of their little band.

Kaen looked down at the child in her lap, at the trusting magenta eyes. She didn't say anything but leaned her head on Lilly's, watching the fire dance as she took in the comfort that surged slowly in her chest...