During snowfall, she dreamt of a time where she searched for her long lost sister. She wandered through endless fields of frost, leaving shadows of emptiness behind. There was always a fragile hope she might be found, although she was despised by all who knew of her existence.
The clues had led her to an isolated wooden cabin deep within the forest. Snow clung to its roofs and walls. As she approached the cabin, the iced riverbank made her stagger forward, nearly slipping into frozen tufts of ferns.
Her anticipation to be reunited with her sister drove her forward. Absolutely nothing would stop her now. The reunion had been years in the making.
The moment she had opened the creaky cabin door groaning with age into the dim light, horror seized her expression.
Soldier?
It was the body of her sister, limp and pale, leaning against a hollow and dusty couch with a face of agony. Her lips were parted as if she was mid-cry, and her eyes rolled toward the back of her head to indicate her immediate suffering.
Soldier!
She rushed toward her, but the distance between them stretched endlessly, as though the cabin had conspired to keep them apart forever. A pale white haze blanketed her vision just as her hand reached out. Realizing she was settled upon a thin sheet of ice in the middle of nowhere, cracks suddenly splinted beneath her feet and shattered under her weight. She free-fell into the endless white abyss as her dreams remained unfulfilled.
"SOLDIER!" A sharp and clear tone came through, awakening the woman immediately from her slumber. The woman was part of a four soldier battalion in the midst of dusk in the dust-riddled rocky mountains. Armed with iron plated armor and a protective helmet that obscured part of her head, she looked up at the man who called upon her, realizing she had been foolishly asleep.
The man, whose helmet was cast aside to reveal a weathered face with a goatee far older than hers, glared at her as he backed away. Beside the woman were the three other soldiers who sat beside a bonfire in uneasy silence, purposefully looking away from the scuffle. One was towering with mass, another was slim and lean, and one was chiseled and veteran.
"As your commanding officer, I'd advise you not to dose off," The man stated in a condescending tone. "You'll be lucky if Curse doesn't murder you painlessly in your sleep and feed you to the rotten souls."
"Apologies, Captain Tidus," The woman stated respectfully. "It won't happen again."
Captain Tidus appeared satisfied; yet that satisfaction was only temporary. He stood in front of the bonfire, towering over the others to magnify his presence and spoke in a commanding tone, adjusting the steel blade tucked away in his holster. A rough cough escaped him followed by a spit into the dirt, indicating his tough and rugged demeanor.
"Recruits of Sancta, your trial is simple," Tidus began. "Invade the Curse camp. Eliminate all of the rebels and Rot you find, and pillage their tags. Only then will you be accepted as one of us and live forever fighting for your hometown."
The woman looked up at the dusked skies, noticing the crimson streaks had returned once more. These blood-riddled clouds were deathly and commonly avoided, for inhaling even a single whiff of it spelled infection and a quick, painful death. Those who were infected would burst into tendrils that sprouted from their very lungs, transforming the one into a Rot immediately with a desire for flesh and blood.
It had been three years ever since they arrived.
"Curse this, Curse that," The chiseled and veteran soldier whined, leaning backward in laziness. "Even if we kill them, what difference does it make? There's thousands of them still out there, and we don't even know where they are!"
"Mind your tongue, Domovoy," Tidus addressed. "Our kind do not question the orders from the prime minister."
"Sorry, Captain." The man named Domovoy said as he sat still and proper.
Tidus paced around the four as his eyes transferred to each and every one of them like a predator seeking its prey. "You all know their motto," He begun. "'Rot Gives Strength, and Curse Gives Faith, Seek the Twin, and We Shall Win.' Each and every Curse rebel's corpse shall add to the total amount of casualties, letting them all know what shall happen to any of them that we find. Under the oath of the prime minister of Sancta, we fight for a future without blood!"
The four heard Tidus's words loud and clear, all standing up from their seats before lining up in a single file line. Placing their palms above their heads in honorable salute, they waited to be called.
"Soldier Domovoy!" Tidus called.
"Yes, sir!"
"Soldier Garuz!"
"Yes, sir!" The towering big one's voice was deep.
"Soldier Nocten!"
"Yes, sir!" The slim soldier shouted.
The captain's eyes laid themselves on the woman of dreams.
"Soldier Wynda!"
"Yes, sir!" The blue eyed woman saluted.
"For the prime minister of Sancta, and the future of us all!" Tidus yelled with them his voice rising with theirs in unison. He thrusted his blade skyward as fireflies from the bonfire glinted off of his steel. "We fight... for hearth and the huntress!"
"FOR HEARTH AND THE HUNTRESS!" They thundered back as their cry echoed and shook the night.
"Now, let's move!" Tidus said, following a nightly trail toward the edge of the rocky mountains. He stowed his steel blade away in their sheath as Domovoy took point behind him, followed by Garuz, who appeared inspired by their war cry.
Wynda stared off into the horizon as the weight of memory carried her away. The three years ever since the death of the legendary Lightning Huntress distracted her in an endless spiral of thought over METIS's evolution. The whole world had shifted its balance, and acceptance of that stabbed through her heart like a poison dagger. She didn't dare to move on, for it was a weight that continued to bear endlessly on her shoulders.
"Hey," Nocten called, approaching toward Wynda as his armor creaked. "We should get moving. We don't want the captain to get upset at us again."
"I've been thinking," Wynda whispered, turning back toward him. Both of their faces were obscured by the helmet, but they still looked at each others eyes discreetly. "When does it all end?"
"I ask myself that question every time," Nocten replied. "I guess it starts when the public doesn't side with the Rot and use them as tools. Eliminating Curse... and bringing peace. That's what Sancta taught us, at the very least. Sancta's recruitment process was odd, though. There were nothing but tears sweltering as the ghosts of our families watched us leave. But for the good of Sancta, right? The prime minister's working hard to keep everyone in check. If we can end the divide... maybe things will change."
"War never ends." Wynda concluded, quickening her pace. "Even if it does, nothing will ever be the same."
"I... wish I was more hopeful than that," Nocten continued. "I wish the Huntress were still here. Maybe she would have stopped all this from happening."
"Let's get going." Wynda ignored his statement, but kept it in her mind as fresh as possible.
The four followed the captain down an dry and open ravine stripped of all life. Once, the channel had carried spring water with the life of exotic birds and reptiles, but now it was a hollow scar bleached by the Rot's increasing strength. It siphoned all aether and rendered it useless.
The faraway mountains were ravaged of all signs of life. Everything was dried up and reduced to waste and ash. It felt like each of their footsteps against the deserted ravine whisked away in the nonexistent wind. Nocten stared into the distance, watching the reddened sun blot his vision. Covering his eyes, he had to get his mind off.
"Who knew three years could pass so quickly," Nocten whispered to Wynda as they followed down the ravine. "How long has it felt since the world felt Mother Nature? The winds don't blow anymore, and all the forests are just gray. Nothing but dust in the river... and seasons? Those don't exist anymore. It's nothing but a drought now."
"You still aren't used to it?" Domovoy retorted with a surprised expression. "Where have you been, boy, living under a rock? Three years ago, I was the first to experience it all wither away at my own job! You, however, were probably still in your diapers getting fed by your mommy and daddy in a nice cozy home away from the Rot. Don't go crying on me now, boy. This is the sin of the failure of humanity."
"Shove off," Wynda hissed. "The Rot's affected us equally; no more than any other."
"Oh, and who's Miss Nobody, here?" Domovoy continued. "Looks like silence isn't your best friend when I've struck a nerve, isn't it? You were silent since the start of our training regiment. Don't tell me you out of all people care about the world now."
Captain Tidus snatched the back of Domovoy's helmet and yanked him close to his face. "This is the third time you've spoken out against our whim, soldier," His voice was low and haunting. "You might believe your existence is meaningful, but let's not forget how you dug ditches for a living. Too cowardly to even face the front lines. Now I suggest you watch your tone, especially to her. She's our special guest."
"Special... guest?" Nocten repeated.
Wynda's eyes widened for a split second before shuttering them in a feigned calm. Nocten didn't buy it; he noticed how she might have been hiding something that the battalion didn't know about."
"That's right," Tidus continued; he yanked on Domovoy's helmet once more to add strain upon the weight of his neck. "You speak out of line one more time, and I'll put a hole through your throat and leave you as food for the Rot and the Curse. You won't ever get to see your children again, and there'll be nothing left to bury you next to your wife, who's down and under. Do you understand?"
"Y-Yes, sir." Domovoy replied in fear before Tidus shoved him back towards Wynda and Nocten. The captain stopped midway by gesturing his palm up, showing disappointment in his stride.
"You all seem to not understand the severity of the situation," Tidus's voice boomed. "The world has changed, and now it's your first time witnessing its change. For ages, humanity has been at its last life, and in these three years, it's only gotten worse. There will come a point where all of us may die with it, but todayis not that day. If you soldiers believe that your existence is based on cowardice, then do the rest of us a favor and bury yourselves alive! It saves all of the ones worthy time! UNDERSTAND?"
"YES, CAPTAIN!" The four cried in unison. Domovoy gave an ugly look to Wynda and Nocten before trailing them through the ravine. Wynda acknowledged Nocten with a small nod before following through. Sighing in disbelief, Nocten struggled with the idea of the world's blight. But he had no choice but to accept it.
Minutes later, after coming through the dried ravine, they finally spotted their targets down below; two lean, muscular men walking side by side along the cliff held chains tethered to a pair of lanky and parasitic Rot. The chains were attached around their lamprey-shaped necks and held firmly as their gurgling and churning voices were low and thirsting for blood. Tidus shoved his palm toward the battalion, signaling them to halt.
Wynda and Nocten watched as Garuz and Domovoy leaned over, observing them like hawks seeking prey. Tidus pressed his back against the mountain, scouting their surroundings for snipers or spies. Out in the middle of nowhere, safety was their number one priority.
"There they are," Garuz whispered. "Curse scoundrels and their so-called pets. What kind of insane degenerates would side with the Rot?"
"Oh, I've got a name for you..." Domovoy hissed. "Baylen Ramsey."
"Baylen Ramsey?" Who the hell is that?"
"What, you live under a rock or something like poor ol' Nocten? You haven't heard of him? Wealthy aristocrat fucker who betrayed Sancta years after the Huntress died. He's apparently the bastard son of some rich folk who sheltered during the Rot's blight. They've been scheming on taking over Sancta, until they pledged their lives to Curse."
Nocten sighed. "Everyone worships him," He said. "Sancta just can't catch a break."
"He's probably the reason why the fuckers love the Rot," Domovoy continued. "They always flock to the wealth."
"But none of it makes sense," Garuz chimed in, disturbed. "All they do is kill and devour the remnants of their victims! We're supposed to be fighting on the same side, not against each other!"
"Doesn't fuckin' matter," Domovoy retorted. "Those Curse vermin and those followers of Ramsey aren't human. None of them are. They lost their humanity long ago, and they're tainted with a fucked up dream that'll leave the world begging for mercy."
Wynda watched the three argue, unable to latch onto any opinion of her own from the feud between Sancta and Curse. The memory of her older sister kept clouding her thoughts, reminding herself of the snowdrift landscape she encountered during her dream. Narrowing her eyes, she turned her eyes toward the captain, who began strolling through a crooked pathway towards a bleak illumination of fire. Her face tightened, realizing that he was about to walk towards a potential Curse encampment without noticing it.
Lashing forward, Wynda tapped Nocten and Garuz's shoulder to pinpoint their eyes on their captain. Nocten bolted upward and lashed his arm out toward his direction.
"Captain, are you sure you should be-" He began.
Tidus turned his eyes to scan the encampment briefly before gesturing toward the battalion with is palm. "Coast is clear," He said as the others joined him. "Search the area. Garuz, head to the edge and watch the path where the Curse lead. Nocten and Domovoy, you stay in the encampment and locate supplies. Wynda, with me."
"Yes, sir!" The men called, with the exception of Wynda, who found it odd that she was excluded from the rest of them.
Wynda followed Tidus as mutters from the group about Baylen Ramsey and the betrayal of Sancta continued to tinge their lips with vengeance. They made it a safe distance from the encampment where silence was golden. Tidus leaned back against the jagged ravine wall as casual as he could despite danger in their wake. Wynda stood poised and firm in polite manner, watching him stroke his goatee with the tips of his fingers. She couldn't guess what would come next or what he was thinking, but she remained aware.
"I called you over to talk about your status as our special guest. I apologize for Domovoy's rowdiness. As someone who's slightly more experienced than the recruits, he's a bomb waiting to be set off."
"It's nothing." Wynda muttered in a cold tone, averting her gaze in disapproval.
"But your reputation precedes you," Tidus's face lit up in enthusiasm, scanning Wynda's face and body. "I never thought the younger sister of a legendary prodigy would join Sancta's ranks as a knight. What prompts you to stay?"
The question and the peculiar weight behind it caught Wynda off guard. "I'm searching for her." She blatantly said.
"Are you?" Tidus chuckled. "So she's gone missing?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I wouldn't put my mind on that for too long. She'll be able to survive on her own, knowing her reputation," He pushed off the ravine wall and approached Wynda closer until she needed to lift her chin slightly to match his gaze. "But as for you, it's difficult for you to carry her name, isn't it? Picked off from those filthy rabble-rousers in Sancta, weren't you? It must be hard living up to her expectations as a... street rat."
"Sir?" Wynda's voice faltered.
Tidus grinned. "You certainly have a lot to live up to. None of those wealthy aristocrats that housed themselves during the fallout have the potential to be as grand as you. That's why I hold high hopes for you. After all, we wouldn't want to disappoint the crowd now, would we?"
"I'm not a street rat," Wynda's voice turned sour as she turned her face back to Tidus. "Don't praise me for the lineage I hold and accuse me of such things."
"Recruit Wynda, you speak!" Tidus chuckled. "The most I've ever heard since the day we met. Just try to follow in her footsteps, or you'll lose your footing. An opportunity awaits!"
"Trust me." Wynda's voice was bitter. "I know."
"Captain! I found something-" Garuz's voice snapped to break the silence.
Wynda and Tidus turned as Garuz rose from his crouched and sneaked position. The cliff's edge gave way under his weight and he slipped, catching himself with his armored hands clamped to the crumbling ledge. Nocten bolted forward and snatched one of his hands as Wynda rushed toward him without thinking, propelled by the old and unshakable guilt born from the same sound that told her that she had failed her sister that late afternoon.
"Garuz!" Nocten shouted, clamping both of his hands on Garuz's left palm. "You're so... fuckingheavy-"
"Don't let go, man!" Garuz shouted, panicking as his feet searched for leverage to cling onto. There was nothing.
"Pull up!" Wynda ordered.
Yet with their combined strength, Garuz's weight proved to be too mighty for both of them to handle.
"Shit!" Domovoy called, angling his head toward their demise. "Those Curse fuckers are coming! We can't get caught, damn it!"
"We won't get caught if you could shut up and get over here to help!" Nocten raged.
Wynda and Nocten heard Tidus approaching from behind, casually strolling as if nothing in the moment was causing the chaos that was unfolding. He slammed the sole of his right foot on a shifting side of the crumbling rubble beside Garuz's body, leaning forward and angling his view toward his rescuers. "Let him go." Tidus coldly stated.
"Sir?!" Nocten couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Domovoy is correct. We'll be caught," He doubled down on his request. "Release him. That's an order."
"Captain..." Nocten's voice trailed off in future regret.
"Do it, boy." Tidus repeated.
Nocten shook his head, denying it silently. After a quick glance at Wynda's steady acceptance of the command, the two released Garuz on his word. He tumbled down the cliffside, bouncing off jutting ledges that broke his fall just enough to keep him alive. By the time he hit the bottom, the Curse and their rotten pets were already waiting with hunger, greed, and death carved into their amused faces.
Nocten pressed his fingers against his temples, breathing rapidly at his actions. Domovoy watched the Curse approached Garuz with their bloodthirsty eyes.
And Wynda closed her eyes and averted her gaze, the weight of her own actions pressing hard against her ribs.
Not again.
Just... not again.