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There was nothing that Lupa hated more than the feeling of being hunted.
In former times, she’d reveled in being the one doing the chasing. But now, she felt a pang of sympathy for her former victims. No matter how fast she ran, how lightly she treaded, or how convoluted her path through the forest was, that unmistakable crunch of her pursuers’ boots against the crisply fallen snow was never far behind. It was maddening. Is this how all her victims had felt in their last moments? Even more guilt welled up within her soul, making her steps feel weightier.
She’d sworn to herself never to take a life again. And in the last two days, she’d been forced to break that oath so many times the numbers had blurred together, paring down the soldiers hunting her by a solid margin. She hadn’t come out completely unscathed. The gash in her side leaking a vivid trail of blood onto the snow wasn’t doing her any favors.
She listened carefully for the step patterns she could still hear. Five left. They’d fanned out in multiple directions, trying to pull ahead so they could covertly surround her from all sides. They knew what they were doing, even in foreign territory like this. She’d trained them too well for her own good.
Lupa threaded her way through an opening in a thicket of shrubs, only to be met with a snowy clearing at the edge of a steeply sloping hill, stretching out into a sea of white that was almost nauseating to look at. The frosty air gnawed at her ears and fingers. If she had enough time, she might have been able to make her way down, but certainly not while being chased.
She backed far away from the cliffside, and in that moment, the assailants struck.
Her head instinctively tilted to the side as a hand with a knife thrust right past her cheek, before she elbowed the knife’s owner behind her in the gut. Two more attackers pounced out of the trees to overwhelm her, but she crouched low to the ground and they sailed overhead. Her movements were practiced and refined, but sloppy from a lack of sleep, hydration, and just about everything else a person needed to function. No doubt that had been their plan all along. They knew they wouldn’t be able to win easily, so they’d put all their resources into wearing her thin until she was too tired, cold and injured to fight at full strength.
As agile as Lupa was, a conveniently placed kick in the jaw was enough to send her sprawling. The five assailants approached slowly, drawing their former general closer and closer to the edge of the sloping cliff.
She mustered enough strength to rise up to one knee, only to wince as blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth. By now the wound in her left side had stained her violet cloak a darker shade of purple, which matched the new bruise on the side of her chin. A nasty cut on her cheek had matted her unruly white hair to one side of her head. Her vision was blurring, but her eyes still flared with wild intensity. The lead assailant clicked his tongue, matching her intense gaze with a look that did nothing to hide his amusement.
“Is this a joke, general?” He gloated, twirling a knife between his fingers. “My whole career I’d heard rumors of how ruthless and cunning you were. How not one of your targets had ever gotten away alive.”
“Seems all those lessons and tales we’ve had barked at us didn’t have any bite behind them after all.” His comrade chimed in. “At least, that’s how she’s making it seem.”
“And now, your own methods of bringing death will be inflicted upon you, by the hand of your former subordinates!” He spoke gleefully. “What a fitting turn of events! Such is the punishment for deserters like you.”
Lupa remained silent. As battered and worn down as her form was, she looked up at her hunters unflinchingly. Unlike the rest of the soldiers, these five were not ordinary scouts. They may have been her subordinates, but they were her battalion. People she had devoted her life to sticking beside. Once they had viewed her as a teacher, a friend, a general in arms. But Ilzaran blood was a liquid that poisoned all those unlucky enough to be born with it. It had taken a lot for her to understand this, and her comrades had yet to do the same.
“Please…I don’t want to do this anymore.” She pleaded in her head. “I want to be free.”
“If you truly desire freedom, why do you still restrain yourself?” A voice whispered back, sounding almost amused.
In her silence, her thoughts warred with each other. She had so much to say to them, and yet she knew nothing she said would make a difference. Her assailants took offense to this.
“That’s all? No last words?” The lead assailant clenched his fists, and his jaw.
“Unlike you, we pay our debts forward, general. The oath we made is to be paid in the blood of all who defy our great savior. And now, that includes you!”
The five of them sprang forward to deliver their final blow together, and the instincts the general was suppressing took over. She summoned the last of the strength she had; a wave of indomitable will that surged through her body and coalesced into her right arm. It was as if she was watching someone else’s clawed limb swing forward, slicing through the throats of each of the five Ilzaran soldiers in a single, vicious blow.
“Ghkk-” Was the last sound that left the lead assailant’s mouth as all five of her former comrades collapsed wide-eyed in the snow. It was over quickly, but their final breaths were ragged and agonizing, stinging with pain from the poison coating the general’s claws.
In the midst of all their egoism, they’d forgotten one of Lupa’s cardinal lessons. You can’t loosen your lips without loosening your guard.
“Farewell…” Lupa croaked, staggering back to her feet. Her strong, wolfish forearm returned to a normal, trembling hand, as the claws retracted back into plain fingernails and the fur retracted back beneath her normal, pale skin. Unable to bear looking at the five of them for another second, she turned and trudged slowly away from the scene, walking precariously close to the edge of the cliff. Her face was so wet from blood and snow that she couldn’t tell if she had shed any tears for them or not.
With this done, she’d taken the life of every single Ilzaran scout on the continent. The number of deaths she’d caused had felt blurred before, but now that she was not in immediate danger, they were immensely clear. Those final five were the last of seventy-eight lives she’d snuffed out in only two days. There was no one left to threaten her freedom for a long time. And yet, the shackles of her homeland still remained. They would continue to hunt her. There was still one thing still left to be done.
“I decide what my freedom is.” She spoke, her voice dulled down to a strained whisper. “Not you. Not Ilzar. Not the king. No one. You have no bearing on me anymore. And with my freedom, I declare the hunt is over. I will never kill again.”
Her fists clenched in anticipation. But for once, the voice in her head returned no response. The last of her adrenaline faded. Her knees buckled, her vision blurred, and she tumbled headfirst over the edge.
—---
When next she woke, the former general’s heart rate had calmed down, and her breaths were a bit less labored. Her side still stung, but there was a dull pressure on it that hadn’t been there before.
As she slowly came out of her daze, Lupa found herself staring up at an unfamiliar-looking ceiling. The air felt much warmer…almost too warm against her dry, cracked lips and reddened fingertips.
“Wha–” Just as Lupa tried to sit up, the clanging sound had stopped, and the door swung open.
“Whoa there!” Heavy footfalls resonated against the floorboards, before a large hand gently pressed against Lupa’s shoulder and moved her back down.
“Now’s not the time for that. You should rest first.”
Lupa glanced higher at the stranger who owned that voice. Deep and resonant, yet surprisingly soft. He looked about her age, mid-thirties, but unlike her he was tall and broad, with short dark hair that framed his face in a frenzy of unkempt curls. Despite his rugged appearance, he regarded her with a soft smile and crinkles around his eyes.
“Welcome. Did you have a nice nap?”
His hand was scarcely on her for a second before he suddenly lurched forward, landing hard on his back against the mattress with an elbow pressed against his chest and a strong hand wrapped around both of his wrists.
“Where am I?” Lupa demanded, pushing past the rasp in her voice and the pain in her side.
“Th–this is my forge!” He answered quickly. “I’m just a blacksmith. That’s all.”
Despite how strong he looked, he wasn’t able to move at all. This was a new experience, but somehow he didn’t seem too surprised.
“You hit your head so hard I was worried you were about to say who am I. ‘Fraid I don’t have the answer to that one.” He continued. “I’m glad you’ve still got your sense, but please let me go…I need my hands to work, after all.”
Their surroundings looked rather quaint, but livable. The bed Lupa had been resting on was soft enough to where she’d sank deep into it. The curtains next to the bed were drawn shut. The furniture was wooden and unremarkable. What had really captured Lupa’s attention, however, were the dozens of metallic creations lining the walls. Weapons and armor of all shapes, sizes and methods of craft filled the space with a vibrant splash of expression. Including a spear right above the bed’s mantle, that was hung precariously enough to where she was a bit worried it might slip off the wall and skewer her.
“Fancy anything in particular?” The blacksmith asked, watching her gaze sweep around the room. “None of these are for sale, I’m afraid. But you seem more like the hand-to-hand type.”
Lupa didn’t respond. Her expression was faraway, as if she was only paying partial attention, though her grip was still iron and unfaltering.
“Say, are you really not in any pain or discomfort?” He asked. “Surely that fall must have hurt.”
“Fall?” She turned back towards him.
“Yes. From the sky.”
The flashes of her last seconds slowly started to return. The air lashing against her skin as she had just began to plummet from the cliffside, before blissfully losing consciousness. A small part of her had been hoping that was the end. But as it stood, the constant training she had undergone to attain her body’s level of durability was still serving her well.
That being said, the aftermath of the fall was still affecting her nonetheless. Her side stung intensely each time she took a breath. Black spots popped in and out at the corners of her vision. A cold sweat was breaking out on her forehead from overexerting herself. But it didn’t matter. She still had a target on her back. The longer she remained in one spot, the quicker it would take for her former comrades to hunt her down.
“I…I have to go.” She said softly, not bothering to answer the question.
“I’d advise against that.” The blacksmith chided. “You’re strong, but in this condition, you wouldn’t make it five feet out the door.”
“I can make it just fi–”
Lupa tried to rise from the bed, only for the dull pain in her side to suddenly jolt back up to eleven; a needling sensation running through the left side of her abdomen. Unable to bear it any longer, her grip on the blacksmiths’ chest and hands went slack, and she fell back against the pillows. He quickly extracted himself from her grasp and turned to sit at her bedside, watching intently as she stubbornly tried to sit up once again.
With a wince, Lupa slowly lifted her tunic, to find that the wound had been treated and bandaged, albeit quite crudely. She’d no doubt reopened it by now.
Her apparent savior averted his eyes, suddenly seeming a bit sheepish. “The bleeding was much worse when I found you. Tried my best, but I’m no nurse.”
She pulled the cloth back down and simply stared at him for a long moment.
“I have nothing to offer you.”
The man knit his brows in concern, his calm smile returning.
“There’s nothing I require. It’s not often that strange women descend from the heavens onto my property.”
“The heavens my foot.” She spoke incredulously, leaning back against the pillows. If such a heaven existed, it was certainly far out of her reach.
“Where, then?” He asked. “No ordinary human would have been able to survive that fall in the first place. So you’re either an angel…or an Ilzaran.”
A tense chill shot through Lupa’s whole body. She was in no condition to hide her reactions, and seeing how she looked upon hearing that word, the blacksmith’s smile disappeared for the first time.
He pursed his lips and sighed. “I feared as much…I could sense all that power radiating from you even while you were lying out there.”
Lupa held up her left arm, clenching her teeth to endure the pain that followed. Despite her short stature, her arm was lined with muscle and circled with scars. One of said scars stuck out to the blacksmith, as it looked very intentionally made.
“I’ve done all I can to sever my connection with them.” She spoke firmly. “Deserted the army, carved off the brand they put on me, killed every last scout they sent after me…and took an oath. I will never kill another person. Ever again.”
“Now, hold on.” The blacksmith held up his hand. His smile slowly returned, as he rose from the wooden chair he was sitting in.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me.” He assured her. “But there’s something else you should know.”
Leaning over the bed, he pushed open the curtains, and sunlight glittered into the room; a stark contrast from the foggy sky Lupa last remembered. A large, grassy landscape of rolling hills, completely devoid of snow, fanned out into an enormous horizon. Splashes of colorful flowers sprung from the grass. Trees, stray clouds, and trails of smoke from chimneys loomed in the distance.
Watching even closer, Lupa could spot houses and shops, paved roads, and people milling about on said roads. Shopkeepers held out fresh food to hungry patrons. Parents walked hand-in-hand with their children. Teenagers ran along the streets, talking and laughing.
It was clear that this land was not only inhabited, but well taken care of. Any normal villagegoer would hardly have been moved by such a mundane sight. But Ilzaran soldiers were hardly considered normal. The scene was unlike anything Lupa had ever seen before.
Her eyes widened. “...What is this place?”
“We call it Kismet.” The blacksmith continued. “Everyone in this realm is under protection. Your people have no presence here. No one has ever even heard the name ‘Ilzar’.”
Lupa could scarcely believe her eyes. Was there truly a corner of the world that still wasn’t under the Ilzaran Empire’s control? That had never even heard of the Ilzaran Empire? And if there really was…
“Why would you tell me this?!” She tore her eyes from the magnificent world outside to stare back at the tall, burly blacksmith. “Aren’t you the least bit worried I’ll return to Ilzar and–”
“Not at all.” His tone was resolute, much like his strong appearance. A man like this clearly had to look down on others often, in a purely physical sense. And yet, his warm demeanor didn’t seem to reflect his imposing presence one bit.
“No one finds this place unless it’s by Daughter Destiny’s will. Granted, you’re the first Ilzaran soldier I’ve ever seen who’s managed to make it here, so you probably shouldn’t go around proclaiming who you are. But if you arrived here, then the least I can offer is my trust.”
Lupa felt her shoulders tense. It was rare for her to hear someone utter that goddess’ name so casually. Daughter Destiny, the one true maiden of causality. People from many nations claimed to have heard her voice…but Ilzarans had always scorned that voice, claiming it spoke nothing but lies.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
He simply shrugged. “Whether you want to give me your trust or not is up to you.”
“I…” Lupa’s hands shook. If all this was true, then she didn’t have to listen to what Ilzar told her anymore. Ilzar didn’t exist here. No one would find her. A great burden had been lifted from her shoulders…but she almost wished it would return even heavier than before.
“...No. I don’t deserve this.” She muttered. “I don’t deserve any of this.”
The blacksmith calmly sat back down.
“Well, I’d say something like that isn’t up to either of us.” He replied. “Not even Daughter Destiny has the authority to decide whether or not someone is deserving.”
“You accused me of being from heaven, while you live in a place like this?”
“Trust me, this is far from heaven.” He answered. “We’ve got all sorts of problems. Food shortages, crime, conflicts of interest…but not war or conquest.”
“You say no one here has heard of the Ilzaran Empire.” Lupa rasped, changing the subject. “But clearly, you have. Why is that?”
All of a sudden, his expression grew a bit cagey. “As much as I’d love to answer that, I really should get back to work. Don’t you think you should get some rest?”
“You think anyone could sleep with all that clanging outside?”
The man chuckled; a baritone sound that practically warmed the air around him.
“Alright, fair enough. You got me. I know your secret, so it’s only fair I tell you mine. But first…you can call me Vikram.”
The woman before him bore an expression completely unreadable. She was still having trouble accepting that her safety was no longer in jeopardy. Her shaggy white hair was matted with dirt and dried blood. Her arms lay limp at her sides, as if she was trying not to move and make the wound in her side flare up once more. He had no intention of asking anything of her. But even so, her eyes met his, and she croaked out her name.
“...Lupa.”
Vikram placed two hands on his chair, and rose from the seat with a soft grunt.
“Well, Miss Lupa. What say I find you some fresh bandages…and if you’re willing, I’d love to know what happened before you fell here.”
—---