"What is this?" Wynda's voice cracked and rose in emotion, piercing the depths of her timidness with full disbelief. Her expectations were beyond shattered.
Vayne sighed, taking the book back before shutting it entirely. "You reading this right now is exactly why you're of celebrity status," He mentioned, eyeing Wynda with a serious grin. "I've done my fair share of research across this realm, and I've never come across something as ancient as this before. A manuscript written in a completely unknown language, as if they're trying to hide something."
"Hide what?" Wynda asked.
"At the moment, I'd rather not jump to any final conclusions about what it all means, but I've got my suspicions. But one thing's clear. The Huntress's fate was already determined by someone out there."
"You mean to tell me..." Nocten's voice cracked amongst the pressure of what Wynda had read aloud. "That the reason for all this... the Rot, and the war... is happening is because of some book?!"
"Can't tell. The manuscript ends here. I haven't been able to trace its origins, nor have I ever questioned it until I saw Wynda's name on the ledger." Vayne continued.
"But... why me?" Wynda asked. "Why am I the only one who could read this?"
"That's a question I'd love to answer. But information passes easily among the factions, and the origins are unclear. Like I said, I'd rather not jump, at least just not yet."
Nocten slammed his palms straight on the wooden table, shaking its entire foundation. Ashes from Vayne's cigar flung into the air like dust, and the numerous writing utensils rolled off and rattled upon contact.
"Settle down there, boy." Vayne's tone shifted at the minor nuisance.
"This isn't possible!" Nocten exclaimed. "There's no way that the Huntress in the story is the same is ours! This has to be some kind of fairy tale someone wrote!"
"I never said they were the same," Vayne clarified. "But it could be true. Regardless, even if it wasn't, why would someone go around writing it in a different language? As if it was meant to be found by one exact person... Wynda, in this case. There has to be a purpose for it."
"Are you insane?" Nocten retorted.
"I get called that more than often, yes, but in this case, no. Regardless, this quarrel between Envie and Desir, these two neighboring factions still interests me. Manuscripts and books like these are rare in occurrence with the Rot swimming about. I can't pass any of this up. Besides, the Huntress was described as a warrior with black hair in the manuscript. Could be a coincidence, but..."
Wynda gazed at her own hands, still in bewilderment. Stuck in metaphorical shackles, she began to question everything. "The Huntress... had black hair." She whispered.
"But... I... who wrote this?!" Nocten asked. He slouched back in his chair, unable to piece together the true significance of the manuscript. There was nothing more he could add to the conversation other than his utter disbelief.
"Guess we're about to find out." Vayne said.
"Huh?"
"I've done my research, and I have a sneaky suspicion that the Savior of Curse has a responsibility to play in this. That's where you two come in. Specifically, there's two points of interest I'd like to hit in search for them. Much like a pilgrim, the Savior travels with guarded forces to visit neighboring villages across Sancta and Curse territory. The part you two play is giving up the location of these villages, including their layouts, firepower, and numbers."
"What makes you think we know that?" Nocten asked.
"Those two routes happen to be in Sancta territory."
"Sancta?" Wynda's voice grew astonished. "But you said that the Savior of Curse-"
"Should be in Curse territory, yes. But the primearch doesn't give a rat's arse about who's liberated, nor do they pick sides in the matter. The higher-ups have already been compromised for years, and no one in Sancta's internal affairs, or their military have bothered to bat an eye towards it."
Nocten clung to his loyalty to Sancta as firmly as possible, but he couldn't force his conviction into words. With all of the possible truths being tossed at him, one after another, he swallowed his loyalty and let silence remain. He wondered how Wynda was feeling, as he as more concerned for her than himself in the moment.
"My best tracker has a lead, but she needs you two in the frontlines. If you are willing to risk your lives to help bring the Huntress back... we'll all be rewarded handsomely. Perhaps this age of conflict has a chance to end, and we might be able to heal the world from the Rot. What say you two?"
"I'm in." Wynda stated immediately without debate.
Vayne grinned, while Nocten's eyes widened in startled embarrassment. Caught off guard, he turned away at once to avoiding both their gazes as if it could spare him the moment of ridicule. These rapid-fire revelations, paired with the memory of almost being caught and killed only left him more disturbed than he wanted to admit. He tried to steady himself as best as he could. He was a rational and required a moment to regain his everything he once had.
"What's in it for you?" Nocten asked. "Why do all of this for something that may not be true?"
"What's in it for me, besides the chance to see the world walk free from everything that's done them dirty?" Vayne acknowledged. "The world lacks order, and we need to carve a path toward it to rebuild what was lost. If it means bringing down both sides or bringing the Huntress back, then I'll shoot my shot any day. No longer will we be afraid to come out of hiding. No longer will we starve, or worry about surviving the next day. We can create a world where we can live and die on our own terms."
After hearing his words, Nocten became flustered. They were just words and he needed more than that. "I... I need a moment to think about it," Nocten said, true to his word. "Is that okay?"
"Of course." Vayne said. "I won't rush you, but understand that my tracker doesn't have all day. She won't camp for long, nor does the Savior of Curse have any vacation plans in Sancta."
"Is there a deadline?"
"Make your decision by next morning. We'll set out at the same time the sun rises. Make sure you're all well rested by then," Vayne said, standing up from his seat. He approached the entrance and pressed his palm against it. "Martha's our physician. I'll inform her of your arrival, and she'll organize your beds and your late supper. I'll be back."
Nocten watched Vayne pull the door shut before turning his attention to Wynda, whose eyes remained fixed on the manuscript. The surreal experience they had both witnessed was like trusting a pathological liar, only it was from someone that gave them the slightest resemblance of hope in the dying lands they lived in. They were at wits end on who or what to even trust, with Wynda firmly pressing her faith down despite it all.
Unable to establish the final outcome, Nocten sought Wynda for guidance.
"What are you doing?" Wynda asked, turning to face Nocten with a serious glare. She hadn't ever looked at him the same way she had now. "Our opportunity to bring the Huntress back, and you waste it?"
"Wynda-"
"I don't care how loyal you are to Sancta. It's clear they haven't shown us the same hospitality or loyalty as you do. That should be clear enough, but it's not getting through to your head."
"And what about you?" Nocten retorted. "I thought you were too afraid to make the choice. Now you go into this without even thinking."
"This isn't about me anymore. It's about you and how you can't see what Sancta's done to us."
"No. You can't understand," Nocten said. "We are Sancta."
"What does that even mean anymore?"
"It means… that the people are counting on us. Not the primearch, not the soldiers, but the innocent lives that live there. They deserve to be saved too. What happens to them if we go against them and all their ideas?"
"You're not a hero, and neither am I. If the Huntress comes back, then maybe-"
"The Huntress…" Nocten mocked.
"Yes, the Huntress," Wynda said, watching him seat himself with a conflicted expression. "Or did you forget all the good she did for us? I don't care whether or not you stick to Sancta's ideals, or just how loyal you are. If there's a shot in saving everyone, I'm taking it."
"You know, everything that guy said has to be bullshit. I mean, did you even listen to him? The Huntress can't be alive. I mean, it's been three years, hasn't it? What the hell makes him think that she's still alive? And what makes him think that we have any say in the matter? You think some kind of miracle is going to bring her back to life? And this whole fairy tale, with this world and whatnot… this just isn't possible! You need to wake up from all of your delusions. We need to go home."
Wynda stared at Nocten with a dead-pan expression. Her face was unreadable. He leaned back in his seat, silent as his visible anger began to die down as mere seconds passed.
"What do you know… about me?" Wynda asked. "Other than the fact I was one of your squad mates for the past few months? What else do you know?"
Nocten whisked his eyes around, summoning his memory. "Other than the fact you were everyone's eye candy, and how you were the silent type, nothing else. I don't see the point in asking me this-"
"Not the times we were soldiers. Before that, when we lived without a sword in our hand everyday. When we were just shadows behind all of those soldiers."
"Tell me, then."
"I was twelve when I saw my brother die in front of me. He was coming to me, asking to build a bouquet for the greatest moment in his life. And what was it that killed him? The Rot. You couldn't imagine how I was feeling. The blood that came out from his chest, dripping right where my shoes were. Blood on the grass. Blood on the flowers I built for him. And out it came too, out of his eyes. And I knew then, it was over for me when my sister did all she could to save everyone. I know that, because I lost her that day. And I know that you know, because you were there too."
Nocten's eyes widened.
"Yeah, I know you. The blacksmith's son. You always watched your father doing everything while you stood by the sidelines. When people were hurt that day, you let your father arm everyone, and you let the cowardly soldiers scramble to fix everyone. But there wasn't a point to it anyway. They were already dead and buried to the ground. Outside of that, what else would you do besides be as cruel as possible to those just living their lives getting by with the Rot breathing down our necks? You'd play around and treat everything like it was a joke, just like what you did to those girls. And those kids. What did they do to you? By the fifth or sixth time, I knew it was over for you. I knew when the time came, you'd do the same for the soldiers you squared with. You'd do the same for anyone, and there would be no remorse or chance of redemption for it. And while this was all happening, I was suffering! My brother died, and my sister ran away, all because I was too weak to even move! But I know I'm not better. I watched our comrades die. Both Garuz and Domovoy… all held against my will. But I knew that nothing could have changed their fate."
Nocten stayed still and watched Wynda ascend toward him, towering above him in his seat.
"So, you better understand when I say this, Nocten. If I have to kill everyone in Sancta or Curse or betray my values, I'd do it if it means I'll have to never see another person who I love suffer or die anymore. And no one's going to drag me down. So you bet your ass I'm going to save the Huntress, even if it is just a shot in the dark. Even if it doesn't result in her coming back to life, I'd do it. Even if it results in me dying, I'd do it. Because that is who I am," Wynda finished, stepping back from Nocten and inhaling hard from the pressure amounted in her chest. "I'm not a flower girl anymore. I can make a difference. So, what about you? What exactly can you do, you coward?"
Instead of allowing him to speak, Wynda bolted through the front door of Vayne's quarters and slammed the wooden door shut, knowing that the unsympathetic public remained behind. He puckered his lips together, unable to utter a single resemblance of a word or a thought. All he could do was stare blankly at the wooden floors as the candles lit his shadow. He eyed them and imagined his father standing there, now among the shadows as one of the others. Tapping his boots on the ground, he began to sweat, little by little as the clock ticked behind him. The shadows grew larger, enveloping his presence and eventually, his entire back. All he saw was darkness encroaching him until it took control of him. He shot himself off of the seat and looked around, only to find absolutely nothing in his wake.
"Excuse me-"
An unfamiliar voice came crashing through the entrance of Vayne's quarters, signaling another brief shock for Nocten. He jolted backward and saw that it was only Martha, the physician of their established group. She wore a thick dress and carried several warm sheets of bedding wrapped around her arm. She appeared motherly, as most physicians and nurses did for their time.
"Shit," Nocten muttered. "You scared me. Hi."
"Hi, sorry," She bowed in respect. "Mr. Vayne informed me to setup some beds for you and the other guest. I have your sheets here, and there's supper upstairs. Our chef does a great job with soups, so he went ahead and made the both of you some bean soup. He hopes it will help you recover."
"Thanks…" Nocten said, approaching her with his hands out. He grabbed the warm sheets and for a split second, he instantly sunk his confusion away and replaced it for comfort. It had been a while since he had experienced anything like this before, if not ever. "Where is Vayne, right now?"
"He's speaking to some of our men. He'll be waiting for your decision in the morning," She then added. "'Mr. Vayne's a good man. He truly means well with what he is doing."
"Right." Nocten said.
"We also have some spare clean clothing in the upstairs wardrobe. That armor you're wearing must be musty and tight. You must be sweating in that thing."
"Trust me, I am. Thanks again," He said, but he briefly stopped for a moment, eager to know more about Vayne's folk. "If you don't mind me asking… where are you from?"
"Me? I'm from Norvina." Martha replied.
Nocten's eyes widened. "Oh, Norvina! I know that place. Do you know a man named Smee?"
"Oh yes, Smee, he was a lovely fellow. He would always get himself into trouble, yes," She paused and looked down at her shoes, hiding her eyes in plain sight. "Sorry to say, but he… passed away. The Rot got to him, but he didn't go down without a fight. He saved a lot of lives that night. The lives of many children, in fact."
"Oh…" Nocten's voice lowered. For a brief moment, he blamed himself for not being there for him in the past. Was Wynda right?
"Sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said that..."
"No, it's okay." He admitted. "I'm glad you said it. Otherwise I'd spend my life worrying about what he's up to. Anyway… good night, and thanks again."
Pushing himself past Martha, her voice stopped him from progressing further once more.
"I just want you to know… that what you're doing for us really means a lot. We may not look like it at the moment, but we appreciate your efforts. We need every single man and woman out there to join our cause, and I think it's brave of you two to do this, even if you are from Sancta. They don't take too kindly to people from Sancta, but I can see past that. I can see that you can bring us a lot to the table, if that means anything." She said.
"That… means a lot." Nocten voiced out. For the moment, he didn't feel like the shadow. He mattered; and that's all he wanted in the moment. "Thank you… again."
After a final bow in respect, Nocten ascended the stairway, moving past the darkness and the civilians that remained in the downstairs area. When he finally made it to his chambers, he noticed that Wynda's room was adjacent to his. It was shut completely, no doubt still upset from their previous tirade.
As he entered his chambers, he peeled off the Sancta armor and changed into fresh clothing after bathing in their personal quarters. He ate the warm bean soup and was surprised to see it well seasoned and fresh. He was full after he finished it entirely.
Among the chambers was a window grating that he could peer outside. It was nightfall, and it would only be a few hours before his decision would have to be made. He sat alone on his warm bed, replaying the entire conversation he had with Wynda, thinking of possible responses that differentiated from his original. But no matter what path he took to redirect, he couldn't surmise toward any point he wanted to make. She was more observant than him, and he knew that he was lesser of what he was now.
He wanted to prove her wrong, but he also had to battle for control. Despite being loyal, he stopped to question what the definition of loyalty. He was cowardly, defiant, and quick to act, yet never in the face of Sancta did he value much at all. Wynda was right. He was always watching.
He slept soundly knowing that it would change, and the Huntress would return to prove him right.