Prologue: Were You Raised by Wolves?

Prelude Arc: Mortals

There are no villains among mortals.

Celona

A thunderous rumble shook the Duskhold, but there were no clouds in the evening sky to claim responsibility. 

“What was that?” Taro flinched at the noise.

Celona yawned as she walked down the steps of the patrol station, stretching as she cracked her neck.

“I can’t feel my feet.” She announced, completely ignoring his question. “I’m starving, wonder what they’re serving at the mess hall tonight.”

The mess hall was a twenty minute walk from the patrol station, but Celona could make it ten at a light jog. She had to beat the line, of course. 

The thunder boomed again, this time evidently stemming from someplace up ahead.

“I’m serious, what was that sound? Did Velaris tell you anything?” Taro panted as they jogged.

"No idea, maybe it’s a training exercise. I’ve been avoiding her lately since she’s been so yappy." Celona tugged at the collar of the charcoal grey uniform indicating her rank as a Dustborn, her permanently deadpan gaze directed ahead of them as they continued their jog. 

Her aunt Velaris had been pushing Celona to improve the level of her Celestial Blessing; apply yourself, whatever that meant. She’d been stuck at the middle of the first level for half a year now — her mana only able to form one light layer of grey around her body, not that she minded. 

“Do you think they’ll have chicken thighs this time? It’s been thirty five days since they’ve served it, it’s not like all the chickens in the world suddenly died right?”

“How should I know?” By the third instance of thunder, Taro had calmed down a bit while keeping pace, seeing as nothing horrible came from the first two strikes, but a trace of worry remained.

As they got closer to the mess hall, it became clearer that the sound originated from beyond it, and the only thing beyond it was the wall — a hundred meters of mana-reinforced stone with the River Styx acting as a natural moat, but in the hundreds of years since it was built there hadn’t been any threat suggesting its necessity. 

Then out of nowhere, a regiment of dark blue Starsworn overtook them, spears on their backs.

“And I thought I was hungry,” Celona muttered.

“I don’t think they’re going to dinner… What if the noise is from the wall? The last observation unit was supposed to return a week ago. You don’t suppose something happened to them, do you?” Taro slowed to a halt.

"I’m sure they’re fine, they’re probably just being thorough. You saw for yourself how rural the exile villages are, there’s no way anything could happen to us, let alone them."

“Did you already forget how Velaris had to save your ass during initiation?”

“That was just because I wasn’t paying attention, I was hungry!” Chicken and beef were classics, but Celona had always been inclined to try exotic foods whenever the opportunity arose, even if it earned strange looks from those around her.

“...Seriously, were you raised by wolves? But what if it’s something else, like a primordial beast roaming closer to the walls? Riggs also told me that the exiles could perform their own rituals to summon a Primordial, or even an Asura.”

“Riggs tells you those stories because you’re the easiest to fool, dummy. Come on, if the line goes out the door I’ll pass away from starvation.” 

“...still, why don’t we go to the market and grab something there instead? It’s further from the wall, just in case, you know?" Taro’s voice had taken on that particular quality it got when he was trying to sound casual and was doing a very poor job of it.

Celona turned her head halfway, not enough to look back at Taro, who was trailing behind but enough to indicate she was talking to him. "The food at the market isn't fresh by now. You can go to the market alone if you want. I, personally, am going to eat real food."

Taro made his signature sound, a high pitched noise that occupied an unfortunate space between an exasperated moan and the squeal of a small animal in distress. She was used to it, since she heard it whenever something made him uncomfortable or uneasy, which was every other day.

On the other side of the road, they saw a significant crowd of civilians walking in the opposite direction, and they could overhear bits of their conversation.

“—Ridiculous, making us evacuate just because of a training exercise—”

“—If they want to test a new weapon, do it outside of a city, or at least not during peak business hours—”

Celona glanced at the crowd as the two of them jogged by. “See? Told you, training exercise.”

Taro frowned, skeptical. “A training exercise that requires you to evacuate civilians?”

Celona shrugged, but nevertheless she slowed, just slightly. The mess hall slowly crept into view, the light from its windows warm and inviting.

Celona's stomach made its opinion known, loudly. As usual, she listened.

"I’ll just go in and grab something real quick and come back out. We’re already here anyway, we might as well. You don’t have to come with me, wait outside if you’d like.”

Taro made the sound again. Going in the mess hall was his second least favorite option, his least favorite being waiting outside by himself. At least with Celona, her familial status shielded them from most trouble — her auburn hair was all it took to remind others to steer clear.

On a normal night, there would be some level of commotion around the mess hall, with Dustborn who had the day off lounging at the tables. Tonight, its doors stood wide open, the hall and its long wooden tables entirely deserted. All the food had been prepared, but staff and diners were nowhere to be seen. 

“People have no sense of what’s important these days.”

Celona picked up a plate from the stack near the entrance and started moving down the counter, but Taro stood still near the entrance of the mess hall, as if listening for something.

“Do you hear that?” 

“Nope!” 

“Exactly! The thundering has stopped, I think they’re finally done with their training.” Taro heaved a sigh of relief, and joined Celona at the counter, looking towards the food. 

The rice was still releasing thin curls of fresh steam, and down the counter Celona spotted juicy chicken thighs lathered with dark garlic-ginger sauce. 

Jackpot. Humming no particular tune, Celona took the tongs and began piling them on her plate. 

Just as Celona was about to empty the serving pan, the stone wall at the far end of the mess hall exploded, startling Celona so badly she dropped the tongs. 

The cause of the explosion was a figure being hurled backwards, slamming into the opposite wall. The cavity in the wall released the sounds of fighting that were previously muffled by the physical barrier: not clashing metal, but of valiant shouts and dull thumps of fist on flesh. The thrown figure’s uniform displayed an austere combination of white and red, the colors of the Moonforged. Her service cap was nowhere to be seen, allowing her hair to flow freely down her shoulders, hair whose color matched Celona’s. She called out hesitantly.

“Velaris?”

The Moonforged, whose eyes were grimly locked on something beyond the crumbling wall of the mess hall, suddenly snapped her head around and looked at Celona in disbelief, then anger.

"Why didn’t you evacuate with everyone else? For once in your life, stop eating and run, you moron!"

Velaris’ voice rang through the mess hall, her usual controlled demeanor undercut by her tone and the blood leaking from the corner of her mouth. 

Celona didn’t move, but Velaris’ yell brought Taro to his senses. 

“Come on, let’s go!” Taro grabbed Celona by the arm, gunning for the front door.

“But my food—”

“You.” A new voice snarled behind them, containing an unmistakable hatred.

A table flew past them, crashing on the ground in front of the door, blocking their path to the exit. They turned around and saw a strange young girl who wasn’t here before, presumably having entered through the crumbling wall. Behind her, streets were littered with the mangled corpses of Starsworn. The cacophony outside had ceased, but perhaps its source just marched inside. 

The girl was small, maybe ten or eleven years old, wearing a deep blue Starsworn uniform several sizes too large, the sleeves and pants ripped to fit her measurements, revealing little fists and feet covered in fresh blood. She had a striking golden mole underneath her left eye the same color as her irises, both of which were glaring at Celona.

The girl moved with unbelievable speed, her hand reaching towards Celona, Velaris barely blocking her advance in time, spear in hand. The three overlapping layers of grey aura enveloping her body were flickering, indicating that she was almost at the end of her rope.

“Hurry, brat.” Velaris groaned through gritted teeth, holding the girl off in a final desperate effort.

With the savagery of a wild beast, the girl roared, swinging with her other arm, shattering Velaris’ steel spear and kicking her out of the way. She leaped at Celona and gripped her throat, smashing her to the ground.

Celona’s head rang from the impact of hitting the stone floor, blurring her vision of the furious eyes glaring at her. It never occurred to her that Velaris could be tossed around so easily. Celona had seen her incapacitate another Moonforged in the same time it took Celona to finish two cookies, maybe three, but this girl existed on a level beyond their own. It seemed like the girl was saying something, but the ringing in her ears drowned out the words. It didn’t help that the girl used her free hand to gruesomely tear off both of Celona’s ears with the same ease Celona used when ripping a croissant.

“Sister,”

Was all she could make out by reading the girl’s lips before she lost her vision as the girl continued to mutilate her face. A flash of indignance floated across Celona’s disoriented mind. Whose sister? My sister? Your sister? Are we sisters? I’ve never seen you in my life, or anyone who’s looked like you. Are you really going to sentence me to death because of someone else’s sister? 

Celona felt something wet land on her face that didn’t feel like her own blood… was that drool? She’s going to eat me? Seriously? Eyes and ears don’t even taste good! 

Taste, huh… even war criminals get a last meal, but what about me? Am I really going to die without one? Where is my justice?

I didn’t even get to eat my chicken thighs…