Chapter 2

The craggy wilderness of Fimbulventr had long been considered uninhabitable by outsiders, and even now, the droves of miners and engineers Fortenburg sent to strip the region of its precious resources and alchemical materials preferred to stick to the base of the mountains, where daylight still reached in winter and snow didn’t slow down their magitek in summer. Nevertheless, the noise of their drilling polluted the air, their controlled explosions brought forth uncontrollable earthquakes and on cloudy days, the pyrite smoke belted out by their machines turned the skies scarlet. It had been a familiar sensation to the people of Fimbulventr ever since their home had been forcibly welcomed into the Principality of Crún, and even now that the tax collection delegations that ventured their way up to the villages flew Fortenburg’s lion rather than the Crúnian crowns, the constant tremors continued. Hunters used to joke about the prospect of the mountains they called home collapsing as their bases were hollowed out. Nowadays, even that casual superstition had the children in town unable to sleep.

A few miles from the Crúnian border town of Inve, one group of miners had started to transform the gentler slopes at the feet of the mountains into a more or less permanent settlement. They had so thoroughly excavated the mountain it now took them about twelve minutes to get from where they had started picking and digging years ago all the way to the other side of the quarry — a round trip that had been alleviated significantly in recent months due to the arrival of a dozen new suits of magitek armor from the capital. An even bigger relief to the miners, however, had been the official deployment of an army peloton to the region. With roving wargs and bandersnatches defending their turf, Fimbulventr was a dangerous place to meddle in. Deep down, the miners might have known that the swordsmen, archers and mages of the 56th were not nearly capable enough to deal with what the woods and treacherous mountain sides could set loose upon them. Yet the ease with which the military dealt with the natives’ poorly coordinated raids offered them at least a semblance of security. Spiteful as it were, it was a relief to know that Fimbulventr’s struggle against a world that didn’t need it anymore was just a tad bit more desperate than their own.

Eventually, desperation came for the invaders as well. Zephyr and Sunny hadn’t noticed that the skies when they rode into Fimbulventr were the same as they had been in Landsoul. Following the path that slithered through the woods and foothills, they were surprised to find their route occasionally intersecting with railroad tracks, that tunneled in and out of the mountains they passed like a woodworm through rotting furniture. The tracks soon became the only visible reminder for the two women of there actually being a destination they were heading. The railroad seemed recently built, but for the last couple of hours, as long as they had been following it, neither Caller had seen or even heard any evidence of it actually being in use. The reason why quickly became obvious. When they arrived at the quarry, Sunny was quick to notice the train stationed along a wooden loading platform, but the imposing crane the miners presumably used to load their findings onto the steaming behemoth was unmanned. Magitek armors, similarly without pilots, stood bent over, scattered along the quarry. Pickaxes and shovels lay amidst the gravel and dust, as if carelessly dropped by labourers taking a break. Yet the main building on the other end of the pit seemed as desolate and abandoned as the rest of the quarry. As night began to fall, it started to seem as if all life had vanished from the settlement in the bat of an eye.

“This weren’t here the last time I was here,” Sunny said, as they inched into the quarry. “’Course, that was years ago. I wonder if this is Fortenburg work, too. You remember the logging at the last village? That used to never happen like that, either.”

Sunny’s hand drifted to the pistol at her hip. “I don’t like how empty this is. Don’t look like it’s been abandoned for long. And I wouldn’t wager we’re just lucky to arrive right when they shut it down. Could be Silhouettes. Could be anything.”

As if sensing the same thing, Tess’s head swiveled warily from side to side, and her hoofbeats quieted. 

“I agree. I don’t care for the feel of this place. I would ask more, but… this does not appear the time.” Zephyr, only a few feet behind and to the side of Sunny and Tess equally surveyed their surroundings. 

The dread both Callers felt was soon given a sound, as a canine growl reverberated from the twilight air behind them, a guttural buzz gnarled through clenched teeth, audibly drenched in saliva. Accompanying this dreadful assault on the senses was the sound of rocks, shifting underneath the predator’s feet as it seemed to slowly creep around its prey.

Try as she might, she could not sense the usual malice and magical energy that accompanied her usual bouts with the Silhouettes. She hesitated a moment before speaking in a low voice. “Sunny, how accustomed are you to beasts of a more earthly nature?” 

Sunny clicked her tongue in annoyance. “They grow ‘em big around here. Giant wolves and bears… normally I’d never see one of these things, or I’d run into a forest… last resort is to go for the eyes. A pistol bullet’s not gonna bother something like this more than a bee sting.” 

Tess turned around, anxious to go. That she didn’t bolt immediately from such a beast was a testament to her long training with Sunny. 

Stepping out of the shadows, the creature’s appearance quickly proved Sunny’s suspicions right. It was indeed a wolf of abnormal size that was now skulking around the two, its silver coat of fur glistening in the setting sun as it bared its teeth.

“Ain’t a good spot, this quarry,” Sunny continued, Tess slowly circling to match the mountain wolf’s movement. “All this open space. These miners were askin’ for it. And we will be too, if we stay here.” Sunny turned her head to Zephyr, keeping her eyes on the wolf. “You got any fancy magics that could kill this thing?” 

“Don’t!”

From amongst the branches of one of the few remaining nearby trees, a woman raised her voice, leaping down and planting her feet into the dirt. As she rose, a pained expression revealed itself through the errant strands of dirtied, ashen hair clinging to her face that had escaped from the bun at the back of her head. She was wearing a thick, fur-lined cloak over layers of clothing of a quality the likes of which the natives were unlikely to wear, strong enough to provide protection from the cold and wild animals, yet light enough to move around in the way she did. The state of her appearance nevertheless implied that she was used to Fimbulventr’s savage way of life. Her cloak, trousers and boots were worn out and unwashed, and a visible, gnarly scar ran across her left hand, in which she was holding a sheathed blade. More noticeable, however, was the larger sword attached to her back, firmly held in place with leather straps like a rabid dog being held from escaping. It’s weight didn’t seem to bother the woman, as she approached the pair.

“I beg you, don’t hurt him. He is one of the last of his kind.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to the wolf. “These are travellers. It’s clear they have nothing to do with this. Stand down, Fenris.” Obedient, but not without a skeptical glance at the two Callers, the large wolf abandoned all outward signs of hostility, and withdrew to join its master.”

Wide-eyed, Sunny loosened her grip on her pistol. “This thing is your pet, partner? For cryin’ out loud!” Any further remarks she might have made were cut off by Tess, who nearly bucked with eagerness to flee. Sunny bent over to stroke the horse’s neck and soothe her. Tess stamped up and down and turned ninety degrees left, but eventually acquiesced and stood her ground, eye trained on the wolf.”

“‘Pet’ is… not the word I would use. Direwolves are, and always have been, feral creatures. They are not meant to be domesticated,” the woman replied as she gently ran her hand through the fur on the wolf’s neck. “Unfortunately, we have a tendency to do things to nature that we were never meant to do. No wonder it will occasionally lash out in revenge.”

As she spoke, the woman’s gaze drifted towards the abandoned quarry.”

At this point, Zephyr had long since dismounted her panicked chocobo, which had fled back through the forest. The mage, herself, had remained calm. “You must have a history with defying the laws of nature to befriend a direwolf.”

Her expression was calm and her tone surprisingly non judgmental. “You must have answered the call of the gods, same as myself and my partner here. Am I right so far?”

The woman briefly closed her eyes and exhaled, as if a heavy burden fell off of her shoulders.

“I suppose you could call yourself exceptional if you are able to recognize a direwolf. The Principality of Crún captured most of them when they annexed Fimbulventr. Their mages broke the animals’ spirits, cursing them and their offspring to bend to our commands like common dogs. The results are, unfortunately, irreversible.”

Staring up into the setting sun, she briefly seemed as if she was holding back tears, even if her voice sounded as collected as it had been before. “As for me, I’m afraid I’m just a vagrant. A reject, like this one.” She gently patted Fenris’ back. “I’m afraid that if it’s gods you’re looking for, you’ll find none here. Only fools, and the devils that feed on them.”

“Have you a name, ‘vagrant’? I am Zephyr.” She took a step forward, past Sunny. “Mine is not the kind of magic that can alter the mind of beasts or men, so in that regard, you can rest easily. But…”

Bahamut’s voice whispered to the mage once more, the same he did with Sunny. A single word to answer her question.

O D I N

“…I was not asking about a church you visited as a child. Most of our kind…”, her eyes flashed with purpose as she spoke,  “do not revere the gods who call us to serve their will.”

“I know the kinds of god you are speaking of, traveller. I am not what you want me to be.” Without further ado, the woman climbed up onto the wolf’s back. 

“I would suggest we part ways and you forget about me. The creatures responsible for this massacre care not for the kind of power you harness. They will return upon sensing your presence, and banish you all the same.”

“What are y’all talking about?” Sunny spoke up. At last, she had succeeded in pacifying Tess, aided by the wolf’s retreat and apparent taming. She fixed her hat’s position on her head from where it had fallen askew. “Are you saying she has a crystal like we do, Zephyr? Hey, have you been able to defeat the sill– Silhouettes, there, miss?”

The woman almost shifted out of her seat as her mount turned to bare its teeth at Sunny, growling. Keeping her head down, the woman’s voice was calm, but fierce.

“I told you that you will not find what you are looking for here. I told you that I am not what you want me to be. Twice have I lied to see this conversation to an end that won’t end in bloodshed. But even if your companion seems to already know the answer to the questions you keep asking, you insist on hearing the answers from the horse’s mouth. So let me say this in a way that will put this entire charade to rest.” She reached for the sword tied to her back. “If you do not leave… If you do not forget about this meeting… you oblige me to make you.”

Even though what she had just said was undeniably an ultimatum, the woman sounded more regretful than angry. She didn’t seem to be in the habit of making threats, let alone enjoying them.

Sunny raised her hands defensively. “Hold up there, partner! I’m just someone who found out about my crystal from this gal hardly a minute ago. I ain’t some government spook come to force you into doin’ nothing.” She took her hat off her head, holding it over her chest in a respectful gesture. “I’m just a wanderer who helps keep the peace down in Landsoul near here. And I’ll be going back there soon. I– we— ain’t here to cause you grief.”

With a shake of her hair, Sunny replaced her hat on her head. “Won’t you tell us what monster or animal caused this? From one traveler to another.”

The woman sighed, slowly letting go of her blade.

“If I’m correct, I’ve encountered this kind of creature before. We call it a ballachan, a wall dæmon, if you will. They are born amidst the echoes in large, enclosed spaces from the vengeful spirits that wander there. The miners here probably unearthed an ancient tomb and accidentally set the ballachan within loose. Breaking down the walls enclosing its domain was probably enough to anger it.” 

With a frown, she ran her thumb along her pale, chipped lips and searched her memories.

“If I remember correctly, evicted wall dæmons will absorb the physical presence of their victims and claim it for themselves. It’s the only way for them to survive outside their domains.

“Demons,” Sunny breathed, placing a hand on her chest pocket in which she carried a pressed four-leaf clover in a small packet. “Don’t ever want to mess with those things. Not many in Landsoul.”

Still, she thought it might be different this time. She had the crystal from “Alexander.” If anything could make short work of demons, maybe it would be that. Yet it was clear now to Sunny she had no real idea how to use it. If Kasimira was a crystal-bearer or “Caller” like she was, Sunny reasoned she ought to be able to do the things Kasimira did as well. Flying, magical conjurations, immense strength… all she knew how to do was imbue her normal weapons with the power to defeat Silhouettes.

“Did you come here to dispatch these ‘dæmons,’ miss?”

Once more, Zephyr found herself in worlds beyond her tiny, cyclical knowledge. “I’ve… read of the wall dæmons in my grandmother’s books. They were more emblematic of a time before Silhouettes. Adventurers looking for easy riches in the tombs left behind generations prior would find their journeys cut short at their advance. But… to think that they would exist in this age?”

Zephyr quickly shook her head, as if the cobwebs keeping the dots from connecting finally shook loose. “I must see this for myself. Don’t worry, I am more than capable of handling myself, and I’m not so much a fool as to enter a fight I cannot win. Perhaps we could accompany you?”

“If the ballachan claims you, not a trace will be left behind.” the woman replied. “We cannot afford to lose your crystals to the void. I—”

The woman paused, closing her eyes.

“I cannot ask of you to accompany me. You must understand that the risk is simply too great.”

“I must insist. I cannot leave one like myself  to her fate alone. In my travels, I have aided many of our kind, both in matters of Silhouettes, and of other affairs. I guess one could say that this is my calling.”

Her eyes were resolute as she spoke. “I know the risks. I am not so green as to underestimate the threat you’ve described to me, in fact I believe wholeheartedly how dangerous this will be. But think like this, would it not benefit you to have the aid of a mage? If nothing else, think tactically.”

After a few seconds of contemplation, the woman bent forward to caress the wolf’s cheek, muttering something inaudible. Like an obedient dog, the creature lay back down into the dirt as its rider reached out a hand.

“You are quite unlike so many others, Zephyr. Hop on. We’ve got no time to waste.”

Waiting for the hooded one to clamber onto the wolf’s back — an action that should have in theory cost no more effort than mounting a chocobo, but nevertheless seemed a lot more daunting just because of how unfathomable it appeared — she turned to the other Caller, urging her to get onto her horse and follow along.

There was no need to ask twice. Sunny would have signed on out of simple altruism. This was so close to Landsoul, the wall demons likely would be a problem at home before long anyway. Sunny gave a sigh of pretend-exasperation, but also smiled. It was rare she got the chance to have any aid. There was no sense turning it down.

She climbed up on Tess’s back. Somehow, the horse seemed to perceive by now that the wolf was tame, to some extent, and had settled enough to follow.

“Sorry, partner, I forgot to introduce myself. Sunny Goodnight.” 

“Freyja,” the woman replied. “Just Freyja.”

With an open palm, she gently patted the fur on the neck of her mount and as if unleashed from chains tying it down, Fenris darted forward, leaping into the quarry pit and sliding down the rubble. As soon as it had bolted off, however, the direwolf had already slowed down as it came across an abandoned pickaxe. Curious, it widened its nostrils, searching for a scent to inhale. This search soon proved to be successful, as within the bat of an eye, Fenris perked up and followed the trail back out of the quarry, taking its rider and her new companions into the woods to the west.

***

After about two dozen minutes of dashing through the eerie silence that hung over the woods, Fenris slowed down to a careful walk as a growl escaped its mouth. Freyja ran her hand across the side of her mount’s head to calm it down and tried to follow its gaze with her own, eventually noticing what had caused the wolf to slow down.

Not too far off, though mostly obscured by the tall pine trees that riddled the mountainside, she indeed recognized a moving creature, taller than any of the boars and deer that called this place home, and infinitely more dangerous. Though slow and meticulous in its movements, the ballachan seemed on edge — the novel sensation of being outside, being corporeal likely unnerving it in ways only others of its kind could understand.

As the creature, slowly and with a heavy breath, continued its path through the trees, the hunting party was able to get a better view. Somehow, the creature’s presence seemed much larger than its actual body. It certainly wasn’t small by any stretch, but it still, somehow looked as the body it had made for itself was too small for the spirit it used to be. The ballachan’s appearance seemed to give a good indication of the creatures whose presence it had stolen on its way from the quarry. Most of it, from the flesh on its bones to its bipedal gait, looked human, but its skin looked like a patchwork of animal fur, rock, moss, bark and even the occasional feather.

Suddenly, the ballachan turned its head when a sparrow flew off from the branch it had been sitting on, and with it, the sound of scraping and creaking filled the forest. Under cover of the sound, Freyja jumped from her mount and ran towards a large boulder, crouching behind it just in time for the creature to start minding its own business again. Clutching her sheath with one hand, and the hilt of her sword with the other, she nudged at her companions to join her.

Zephyr joined as quickly and quietly as she could. She couldn’t complain, though the journey here had not been the easiest, as she had never traveled by direwolf before. The thought quickly left her mind as she reached for her now-compressed silver ring, folded into a single crescent-shaped segment which fit neatly in her hand. She didn’t dare speak, knowing how serious this mission was. 

“I would suggest you ready your magic now that you still have time,” Freyja whispered. “Its speed increases exponentially with every creature it absorbs. And so does its—”

She suddenly fell silent as the creature raised its head again, growling, only to point at her ears once its attention fell back on the ground in front of it.

Sunny had dropped flat to the grass at the demon’s movement. She crawled on fingertips and toes to where erosion had left a root-infested nook behind in the hillside. She pulled her pistol from its holster, but knew it was not likely to do any good. Against a creature of its size, it would be little more than a bee sting. The true power of the magicite would be all that would suffice: to do as Kasimira could, if she only knew how. She would note how her companions unleashed theirs. Carefully. 

With both Zephyr and Sunny in position, Freyja moved to pick the fruits of her careful observation of the ballachan’s movements. She picked up a pebble and flicked it into the creature’s direction. As it flew past its head and landed onto the hillside with a dry, barely audible thud, the wall dæmon nevertheless reacted, skulking down onto all fours and readying itself to jump at its prey.

Freyja was quick to beat it at its own game, however. With the finesse of an experienced warrior, she leapt out from behind her hiding place, but as soon as her feet hit the ground again, it became obvious that it was more than experience that allowed her to move like this. Her landing amidst the shaking leaves and twigs transitioned into a second leap, but this one was higher and further, a bound beyond the realm of the possible. Lifted into the air by strands of shadow trailing behind her, Freyja was able to quickly close the distance between her and the dæmon. She drew her blade when her leap reached its apex, and upon coming down, aimed its tip right between the ballachan’s shoulder blades, slightly off to the left, where a small patch of skin had not yet been covered in rock.

Like a knife through butter, Freyja’s sword dug into the monster’s back as she clenched her fists around the hilt to prevent the creature from shaking her off. It certainly tried, howling and twisting its body violently as a pitch-black, tar-like substance started to trickle down from its wound to the ground, but Freyja’s grip remained firm. When she tried to plant her feet firmly into the creature’s mossy fur, however, she felt her legs collapse under her own weight. Barely managing to pull the sword back out of the ballachan’s shaking body, she rolled down its side into the mud, causing the agonized beast to lash out against its assailant with its sharp claws. Right in time, Frejya managed to roll out of the way, but getting back on her feet was a bigger challenge. She had made a miscalculation. Her legs would have felt completely numb if not for the throbbing sensation that she always felt when she went overboard like this. At this point, she was experienced enough to have taken precautions against miscalculations, but precautions didn’t prevent her from estimating wrongly to begin with. Something she would never have done as a paladin.

“Distract it!” she cried out. 

A piercing whistle issued from Sunny’s position. There was no more time to watch and learn. Heedless of the danger, Sunny burst from cover, brandishing her revolver. She cast her arm over her eyes and opened fire toward the creature’s face. With what little she could harness of her magicite, she made each shot explode in a blaze of light on impact. Even if her bullets did little against a creature of stone and sediment, it was a blinding and deafening assault. Sunny fired until the cylinder was empty, the final sound the clatter of casings falling on the rock as she opened the chamber for another volley. 

Dazed and bereft of its senses, the ballachan swung its claws in the direction of the light, unaware that the assault had come from several metres away. In the meantime, Freyja pulled a waterskin from her belt and took a swig, wiping the bright red, treacly liquid from her mouth with the back of her hand as the strength returned to her legs. She rose back to her feet and without hesitation dashed back towards the creature, slashing at its legs.

Zephyr, meanwhile, had finally finished focusing her energies around her metal disc. She returned it to a position on her back, though it wasn’t directly attached, rather spinning and hovering a few inches away, though no more or less distant as she leaped from her spot. Her hands began to glow before she released the energy into two distinct fireballs, both of which flew towards the creature’s ‘head’ and would burst upon impact. 

The ballachan howled as flames scorched its eyes, but it became obvious all too quickly that the fire had not affected it as much as it should have had. The flames quickly withered and eventually disappeared, their vivid colours spreading out into thin veins between the creature’s stone scales, like ink into parchment. 

Freyja cursed. “Don’t tell me—”

Readying her blade, she called upon the fury within once more. The contents of her flask had made it abundantly clear that couldn’t afford another mistake, so she had to hold back. As she felt the black blood strengthening her muscles, she grunted when her blade pierced the ballachan’s flesh. Blood started gushing down its leg, but incapacitate it her desperate strike did not. 

“It can absorb magic too! RUN!”

The creature did not fall over. Instead, it planted its arms firmly onto the ground as they mutated into a pair of front legs and the ballachan, its throat now pulsating with the fire’s radiant orange, opened its mouth, breathing an all-consuming stream of fire in Zephyr’s direction. 

For a moment, Zephyr watched the incoming rebounding of her own magical attack, paralyzed from the shock that her method had failed, though in what felt like a condensed moment in time. Reacting on pure instinct, she aimed her ring towards the sky, propelling herself down towards the ground from the momentum of another spell. She felt the searing heat race past her shoulder and neck, and landed on her legs with more impact than she expected, doing all she could to try and roll away from the beast before her. 

“Damned creature!”

Having taken a few steps back when the creature unleashed its flames, Freyja raised her voice at the back of its head. 

“Ballachan! If you’ve become wise enough to use magic, then you are wise enough to heed my words! Your wrath has been satiated! The men who destroyed your home live no longer! Stand down!”

Slowly, the creature turned its head, glaring at Frejya as a raspy hiss escaped from its maw.

“Weeeeeping Blaaaaaade… You woooooounded me… How can you sssssspeak of peace when you dreeeeeeew firsssst bloooood?”

Frejya exhaled to keep composure.

“H-How do you know my name?”

“Because ssssssooooooon… I’ll be yoooooou,” the creature hissed.

Freyja dropped her sword. It slid from her hand, like a hanged man plummeting into the hole at the bottom of a gallows. She couldn’t feel her hand anymore. She couldn’t remember why she had ever thought that the ballachan needed to touch her to absorb her presence.

“Do… not make me kill you. You are one of the last of your kind.”

Growling in delight, the ballachan now turned its entire body to tower over her, speaking more clearly with every word it uttered.

“Holloooooow wooooords from one who is ssssseconds away from unexistencccce. You will not ssssshed tearssss for meeee.”

Freyja’s eyes flashed from the ballachan, to the immobile Zephyr, to the rock behind which Sunny was undoubtedly experiencing her presence being tapped from her like she was, back to the ballachan.

“You can have me if you want to,” she spoke, “but leave the others be. Their powers will decide the fate of the world. They are not yours to claim. That… is my final offer.”

Regaining her posture in front of the immense creature, she reached for the hilt of the claymore strapped to her back.

“You…” the ballachan replied in Zephyr’s voice, “are in no position to make d—”

Before the ballachan could finish, a searing flash erupted as Freyja effortlessly swung the claymore over her head. It cut straight through the ballachan’s head, down its body, reaching its tail before the place where it had first made contact with the creature’s body could even begin to bleed. As the light dissipated, a black geyser erupted from the rift that now separated the dæmon into two mangled parts, the mirror’s image of one another, which both collapsed onto the ground as gravity pulled the blood back to the craggy ground. Frejya had not moved an inch, but she looked different: solemn, clad in black armour and holding in her trembling hand a large blade with the distinctive design of death. As the raining black blood sullied her ashen hair, a single tear fell down her cheek. 

Zephyr could barely move, yet she managed to raise her head in Freyja’s direction, her eyes widened with shock, flickering with a reverence that was not entirely her own, then finally recognition. “Odin. So…”, she coughed a few times, “…you were right. Then… what is my…?” Before she could say any more, her head fell back to the ground, her battered body going limp as she lost consciousness. 

“Zephyr!” Shoving her pistol into its holster, Sunny ran to Zephyr, crouching at her side. After a moment’s survey of her wounds, Sunny sighed. “I don’t think it’s lethal or nothing, but walkin’ might be awful painful.” 

With a particular whistle, Sunny called Tess, who approached cautiously from the surrounding forest where she had hidden herself during the melee. “I know it’s been a while, but you can carry someone besides me for a bit, right, girl?” She placed her hand on Tess’s neck, stroking the horse’s fur. 

Sunny turned to Freyja. “Are you okay over there too, partner?” 

Her armour disappearing in another flash of light, Freyja wiped the blood off her face with the sleeve of her jacket.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Around her, the ballachan’s body started melting into the ground, the earth absorbing it as it had absorbed everything around it in its life. She stepped over the slowly dissolving remains to hunker down next to the wounded black mage.

“There’s a settlement not too far from here. The people there are good. They will treat her wounds and make sure you are well-rested. If we leave now, we can make it there before dusk.” 

“How did you do that with your–” Sunny shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll ask later.” Carefully, she scooped Zephyr up in her arms, looking between her and Tess a few times before piecing together what she needed to do. 

“Ain’t ever had to carry someone who wasn’t awake… partner, can you take her for a sec and pass her to me after I’ve mounted up? Tess and I should be able to take her from there.” 

Frejya complied, helping the girl seat her unconscious partner into the saddle.

“You’re going to have to take this slowly, and there’s no time to waste. Ride on ahead. Fenris and I will catch up with you in no time.

With two fingers to her brow, Sunny gave a salute. “Alright, partner. It’s right this way? I’ll have her there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. You stay safe out there.” 

Tess took off at an even canter to not upset the extra load. Even after years together, Sunny was impressed at how often Tess knew what to do even without instruction. 

A sigh of relief escaped from Freyja’s mouth as she saw the horse trot off into the woods. She planted her sword into the ground and whistled her own mount to her side, comforting the creature, which promptly licked the bloodstains off of her cheek.

“You probably shouldn’t do that, boy… I cannot tell you what evils the ballachan’s blood contains…”

With another melancholy breath, she slumped onto the ground, leaning her back against Fenris’ soft fur as her eyelids grew heavy. 

After a few seconds, however, a sudden sound of shuffling feet snapped her out of her slumber. Freyja opened her eyes again, and, after a few blinks, noticed what had been the source of the noise. At just a few feet away from her, a hare was standing amidst the trees, surprisingly still for such a skittish animal. So still, even, that Freyja felt as if the animal was gazing into her head, its empty, beady eyes fixated onto hers for long enough to make her uncomfortable. When she stood up, so did Fenris, baring his fangs at the hare, which promptly scuttled off into the woods.

“Easy there, boy,” she tried to comfort it. The direwolf sniffed. “You’re right. We shouldn’t leave them to fend for themselves for too long.”

With a groan, Freyja rose back to her feet and within minutes, was ready to take off again, her sword back into its sheath in her hand and the jagged, crooked claymore strapped securely to her back.

“Alright, let’s go. We’ve got a responsibility now,” she muttered, climbing up on Fenris’ back.

Leaving the ballachan’s blackstained remains to return to the earth, Freyja rode off into the sunset, in pursuit of her new companions.

***

Night had already fallen when Freyja, having rejoined Sunny and the unconscious Zephyr within minutes, reached the end of the forest. Their journey had taken them several miles higher, and by now snow had started to fall, significantly slowing down their process. Luckily, lit torches started appearing by the side of the road. They felt like a relief. Even though Frejya had taken this road many times before, a confirmation of the fact that she hadn’t gotten lost and that a warm welcome was imminent put her worries to rest every single time.

“See these torches?” she asked Sunny, who was following closely behind her, “keep following them and in just a few minutes, you should reach the settlement.”

“Yeah, I can see the torches, if nothing else.” From life lived on the prairie, Sunny could always tell when there was a town nearby, even without any visible signs. There was a certain tension in the air, a sense of obligation that surrounded human settlements to live by the calendar instead of the day. As one drew closer, the impression of someone having been there grew stronger, a nearly imperceptible rise in temperature on the skin from somebody’s recent presence, too large to be a wild animal.

Sunny shook Zephyr again, as she had several times on the journey to try to waken her. “Well, we sure could use the tending of a good healer, if they’ve got one.” 

“Probably not the kind you’re used to, but one that will help you all the same,” Frejya replied, turning her mount around. “Once you’ve recovered, I suggest you travel as far away from here as you can. There’s little to find for you, and much to avoid.” 

Tipping her hat in courtesy, Sunny gave a smile. “No concern of that, partner. I’m planning to turn around and head right back into Landsoul just as soon as things have quieted down a bit. I ain’t no snow bunny or mountain goat.”

She turned to look straight ahead down the darkened road. “Only thing I’d stick around for is for one of you two to teach me to properly use these cryst– magicite things.” 

“The only advice I can give you regarding that thing is to cast it into the deepest chasm you can find. Let sleeping gods lie, Sunny Goodnight. Godspeed.”

Freyja looked into Sunny’s eyes for a few more seconds before nodding and spurring Fenris on. Without another word, she took off towards the woods.