The gray sky pressed down on the forest. A damp, cold mist crawled among the pines, soaking the earth and the ashes from the previous night's bonfire.
Lilith moved without haste. The tatters of her light blue and white dress, torn by the steel of swords, hung from her shoulders. Beneath the torn and soot-stained fabric, her skin looked pale, smooth, and perfect. Without a single scar.
A wet groan broke the silence. A few meters away, a Purifier ran through the underbrush. His leather armor creaked with each clumsy step. Lilith glided through the air just above the ground. Her movement was silent.
She planted herself in front of the man. The Purifier stopped short. His eyes opened so wide that the whites of his sclerae gleamed under the gray light. His breath caught. He raised his sword with trembling hands.
Lilith stretched out her hand. The man's steel flew from his fingers and landed in her palm. A metallic flash cut through the damp air. The blade of the sword severed the man's right ankle. Then the left.
The metal struck the stone hidden in the mud with a dry clink. The Purifier fell to his knees. Then onto his back. His hands clutched at the stumps, trying to contain the gush of thick blood that stained the grass a dark, warm red.
Lilith leaned over him. She rested the tip of the bloodied steel against his throat. The cold of the metal made the man tremble. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Who else in the capital knows about me?" she asked. Her voice was flat.
The man clenched his teeth. His eyes darted toward the leaden sky. He preferred to spit a mixture of saliva and blood at Lilith rather than speak. Lilith didn't blink.
Lilith's steel descended. It pierced the man's chest. The sternum cracked with a dull sound. The body convulsed once and went limp on the damp earth. She pulled the sword out with a sharp tug. The blood slid down the metal.
A few meters away, another Purifier tried to crawl behind a fallen log. His breath was an agonizing wheeze. Lilith walked toward him. Her boots sank into the mud, leaving dark tracks.
The man turned onto his back when Lilith's shadow covered him. He raised his arms to protect his face. His fingers were stiff from the cold. She said nothing. She brought the blade down on his wrists.
The steel cut through the tendons. The man let out a strangled cry.
"Where did they first see me?" Lilith asked, pressing her knee onto the wounded man's chest. The weight of her body prevented him from breathing.
The Purifier only let out a hoarse groan. His eyes rolled back from the pain. Lilith twisted the sword's hilt in his wound. The man clenched his jaws until his teeth ground together, but his mouth remained shut.
With a quick motion, Lilith pierced his neck. The warm blood splattered onto the dry leaves of the bushes. She stood up. Her dress now had a new stain, darker and wetter.
She walked among the pines. The blood trail of the last Purifier was easy to follow. The man lay face down, clinging to an old root. Lilith stepped on his right hand. The crunch of his finger bones breaking under her boot was sharp.
The man didn't even scream. He was too weak. Lilith turned him over with her foot. His face was pale, covered in mud and dried tears.
"What measures did they take to confront me?" she interrogated him.
The man opened his mouth, but only let out a gurgle of blood. His eyes went dark before he could form a single syllable. Lilith removed her foot from his hand.
Only one remained. The patrol sergeant. He crawled on his belly across the ground covered in pine needles. His nails, buried in the mud, were tearing off from the effort. He left behind a wide red line on the dead vegetation.
Lilith walked behind him. The hem of her tattered dress brushed through the mud. She placed her boot on the man's back. The weight of her foot pressed him into the damp earth. The sergeant let out a dull moan.
His fingers clawed at the ground, searching for a nonexistent hold. His breath was rapid, ragged.
"Patience is not my strong suit today," said Lilith.
She crouched. She took the man by the hair and lifted his head. His gaze reflected absolute submission.
"Where did they see me?"
The sergeant clenched his jaw until his gums bled. He didn't respond.
Lilith drove the sword into his left thigh. The blade entered slowly, cutting through the muscle. The sergeant let out a scream that scared off the few birds remaining in the treetops. His hands clutched at the mud.
"What measures did they take to confront me?" she insisted, sinking the steel deeper. The warmth of the sergeant's blood rose up the blade, warming Lilith's hands.
The man tried to turn. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his own palms. The pain tensed the veins in his neck like violin strings.
"Speak!" Lilith demanded, delivering another stab to his shoulder.
The sergeant spat a mixture of saliva and thick blood. His eyes, already clouded by pain, searched for hers.
"It... it doesn't matter anymore," the man whispered. His voice was a wet wheeze. "Everything... everything is going to burn anyway."
A spasm shook his body. His eyes rolled back.
His head fell heavily to one side, sinking into the mud. His breathing stopped. Lilith let him go.
She straightened up. Her breathing was ragged. Her chest rose and fell violently beneath the broken corset. Her gaze swept the silent clearing.
Broken bones. Mutilated flesh. No answers.
*Useless*, she thought. *All of them.*
She couldn't waste any more time in this rotting forest. If the church and the palace were moving, she had to get ahead. She had to tear the answers from the capital itself. Lilith took a step back.
The bulges on her back swelled. The fabric of the already torn dress gave way completely in the back. Two wings unfolded with a dry sound, like the snapping of a ship's sail in the wind.
She flapped once. The mud and pine needles shot out in all directions. She launched herself into the sky. Her dark silhouette cut through the mist. In seconds, she became a black speck that disappeared among the gray clouds, flying back toward the capital.