The ravine was unnervingly still. The Curse mercenaries lay where they had fallen, bodies strewn across the ground in a rough, chaotic pattern from the unknown. Nocten and Wynda stood in the middle of it all as the silence pressed against their bodies from every direction.
Wynda's breath trembled and her hands wouldn't unclench. She felt the world tilt with how she had handled the situation earlier, disappointed by her inability to act. But her name was nothing but a myth.
"Rest easy, soldiers," Nocten's cold voice trembled, attempting to prevent his senses from slipping. He stood in the wake of Garuz and Domovoy's bodies, burying them among the dirt, with the exception of the mercenaries. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. His eyes moved slowly down upon the bodies as if trying to convince himself it was real. He sucked in a deep breath after gazing in the crimson red sun, blighting down upon them second after second. "None of you deserved any of this."
The two collected themselves and rested underneath the rocks they previously stood upon, laying in secrecy in silence. Their faces were tattered with blood so thick that even the cleansing of water wouldn't remove it. They would seldom exchange glances at each other, but none of them would be brave enough to say anything.
Their minds were riddled with a number of thoughts that only afflicted agony. Betrayal from their captain. The deaths of their comrades. The Rot's influence blighting down upon the lands. The war on Sancta and Curse. Wynda's sister, and Nocten's cowardly mindset. Nothing seemed to go well for them in the moment.
"What do we now?" Wynda whispered.
Nocten didn't respond to her question. Instead, he peered toward the distance where Freyd escaped from, hyper fixated on vengeance. "This all happened because of Freyd. He's going to pay for this. He won't get away with it," He slammed his fist on the ground beneath him. "Damn it! How could I have been so stupid?"
"We were all fooled," Wynda said, wanting to settle down his mind. "None of us could have seen it coming."
"That doesn't make it any better! If only I didn't trail off with him next to me!"
Wynda kept quiet. Looking at her dried bloody hands, she sighed before shutting her eyes.
I'm... a fraud.
"Sorry," Nocten said, observing Wynda's saddened behavior. He altered himself. "I'm grateful for what you did. Thank you for saving me. I guess we're the lucky ones to survive all that because of... us." His voice trailed off.
She acknowledged his gratefulness with a quick glance before looking down toward her lap once again.
"Whatever happened to these Curse has to be still out there," Nocten continued. "I don't even know if it's safe anymore to report back. We're too far from home... and it'll take days to head back. Wonder if these mercenaries took any supplies with them."
"Wait," Wynda called, looking toward his direction. "It... it was all a setup. No one's going to come for us except the enemy. We're already dead."
"No, we're alive," Nocten said, standing up from his cross-legged position. "Why do you keep talking like that?! When we joined Sancta, we pledged our lives to the code. Rot Gives Strength, and Curse Gives Faith, Seek the Twin, and We Shall Win. Or did you forget?"
Wynda remained silent, gazing upon her hands continuously without blinking.
"We trained our whole lives for this. We fight against the enemy and we find the Twin. It's the only way to bring peace now. The world's already dying. We don't have enough time on our hands until then!"
"The Twin?" Wynda mocked, repeating herself immediately after. "The Twin? How could you say something like that without even knowing if she exists or not?"
"What-"
"The code is nothing but bullshit. We spent all our lives, only to get backstabbed by the ones who created us. It's all in acceptance of what our true fate is. And they side with the strong until the Rot takes over. What then? What can this myth even do for us?"
"It's not a myth," Nocten's voice was forced to utter for a brief moment. "I just..."
"Just look at this," Wynda said, turning to the pile of corpses in their wake. "The Huntress was our last resort. We can't ever match what she was..." Wynda whispered, staring at her right hand. "There's no point anymore."
"That may not be entirely true," A deep voice rang through as clear as day. A middle-aged man with a well-built body approached the two with a confident smirk, yielding himself to the two with a non-threatening stance. He dabbled his index finger and his thumb on his stubbled goatee before pulling his dark leather gloves back. He watched both Nocten and Wynda from a distance. "Phew, what a bloodbath. Guess I could have been tidier than this."
As the dust settled, the outskirts of the southern mountains revealed themselves, with the hot red beaming sun descending down upon them. Nocten seized the opportunity to snatch the dripping blade that Wynda held previously, angling it in a threatening posture toward the unknown middle-aged man. He watched as the man approached them with his hands to the side, assuming a non-threatening position.
"Who are you?!" Nocten asked in a threatening tone.
The man smirked, refusing to answer. "You can lower it. I'm of no harm to you or the girl." The man said.
"Yeah? Not exactly in the trusting mood right now," Nocten confessed, protecting Wynda by shielding her from harm with his body. "Just had to bury our own men, and our squadron captain just betrayed us. Hope you understand that much."
"I understand just fine," The man's casual tone seemed to add no existing pressure. He placed his hands on his hips. "If it helps, I'm not of any Curse, nor am I of Sancta. I think that's what got this party started in the first place, if I'm not mistaken."
Wynda and Nocten exchanged glances with each other. She stepped by his side and spoke to ease the threatening tension between the two, yet she was as frightened herself.
"Couldn't help but eavesdrop on your conversation about the Huntress. And, well, it just so happens that I received an anonymous tip from my hunters. Something about transporting important cargo in the form of a Sancta squadron. I took interest in it after they mentioned something about an elite squadron captain paying a heft price to smuggle them into enemy territory. Looked at the ledger, and... I recognized someone. Someone vital to our mission, and I couldn't be arsed to let it slip by."
Both of them continued to fix their eyes on the man, saying nothing, simply waiting for him to finish.
He glanced at Wynda with a firm stare. "You're Wynda, aren't you?" He asked.
"Yes." Wynda softly spoke.
"What about it?" Nocten's hostile voice rose again.
"I'm told you can read well. So well to the point where you've dabbled in another language. Am I right?"
Wynda's gaze snapped toward him as confusion tightening into something sharper. She had no idea how he could have possibly known that when her past had been buried so carefully. Those memories from far long ago drove an edge into her brain, reminding her of a time...
No. It didn't matter anymore to her.
"You are." Wynda said. She questioned how he would know such a thing inside her mind.
"I had thought so," The man continued, looking up at the crimson sky before observing his surroundings. "Well, the day isn't getting any brighter soon, and Curse'll have this place swarmed in a few hours or so, since they won't be reporting back. Let's move, then." He said, turning around towards ascending the cliff past the mountains where the dust settled.
Astonished by his lack of formality and causality, Nocten refused to step forward, angling the blade down by his hip. "And why should we trust you?" He asked in a threatening tone.
"Hey, I'm not forcing you," The man said, turning his head. He seemed to be taking Nocten's hostile demeanor very well, with how composed he was. "I'll have to try and convince Wynda to come along, with or without you. And since you're basically down to two choices here, I'd go with the one that doesn't end with both of you dead."
Wynda stepped forward, and Nocten watched in disbelief as she obeyed the stranger without hesitation. She left her helmet where it fell and moved toward the man, offering herself to whatever he demanded.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Nocten's voice panicked.
"Do you see any other way?" Wynda stated, turning away from him.
"We don't have to do this. We get back to Sancta, we report this, and we tell-"
"It's probably already compromised!"
"Wynda, wait." Nocten stepped forward behind her, reaching for her hand. "Sancta is our home. We followed the primearch's ways! Everything we were taught, everything we were trained for... we can't just throw that away!"
"Those teachings nearly killed us," Wynda said flatly. "And going to the captains won't save our skins. I'm not sacrificing myself for potential traitors, especially not when those same traitors might be tied to what happened to my sister."
"Your... sister?" Nocten said, lowering his weapon.
"Don't pretend and act like you haven't heard of her!"
"Wynda-"
"Let's not argue," The man intervened. "Listen. I'd... love to stay and chat, but like I said, Curse'll overrun this place soon. Hearing anymore of this won't be good, and I'd prefer to not have my head stuck on a pike. So, we move. I doubt you two'll pass on a warm bed and some good company."
The unsatisfactory answer the conversation gave drove Wynda backward, unable to budge. She peered off into the distance, zoning out and losing all sense of hope once again. The old wound tore open once more, as it always had before. All of it drained out of her chest the same way.
Before the spiral in her mind could encapsulate her, Nocten moved in beside her and kept her steady. She looked over her shoulder, catching the calm acceptance in his expression and it grounded her just enough to breathe properly. She remained still as he spoke.
"Fine, then," Nocten said, although his brows tightened with suspicion. "But you make one wrong move…"
"How bold of you to threaten me," The man replied, almost amused. "Especially after the strings I pulled to keep you both alive." He started walking toward the valley Freyd had escaped through, as if the conversation barely concerned him.
The claim stopped Nocten cold. How could anyone wield enough power to wipe out an entire army of Curse? It had to be a bluff, he insisted to himself. After forcing the thought aside, he followed after Wynda, refusing to accept that everything he'd devoted himself to in Sancta might have been built on lies. Even after the betrayal, he clung to the hope that this was nothing but an outlier, some twisted exception made in service of the greater good of his home.
As they ascended the valley with the unknown man, the two Sancta soldiers quickened their pace, eager to put distance between themselves and the scene of death. Nocten kept a close eye on the man, watching his every step and move to ensure a second betrayal wouldn't occur. He paced himself at the same exact speed as him, mimicking his movements so that even the slightest difference in the usual would spell disaster.
However, the second half of his mind was fixated on Wynda, who remained silent through their expedition of trust. He was unable to read her face, as she followed after him, yet he could imagine the inner turmoil she had been facing ever since they had met.
All he could remember since the beginning was her silence and lack of focus. He wasn't sure if he should have been astonished the irony of her lack of survival skills with how far she had gotten.
Minutes passed, and the heat from the crimson sun was starting to dissipate. Shadows entered the jagged ridges from where the heat sweltered. As night began to fall, the path ahead seemed unclear to the two of them; especially Nocten, who caught them stopping at a dangerous marked territory.
"Not much further now." The man pointed out, leaning his hand against a staked signpost riddled with red markings.
"But we're in the middle of Rot territory. Look," Nocten pointed out. "Sancta marked it. That signpost's there for a reason."
"Sure, they did. Quite possibly the last place anyone would go looking for a fine enough hideout, don't you think? The Rot plagued this place so much that it was a huge pain in the arse for us to clear out."
"Clear out?" Nocten's voice grew in bewilderment. "Those signposts mark nests in our territory. There's no possible way anyone could clear it out unless they're looking for a death wish."
The man chuckled, looking away for a brief moment. "Incredibly stubborn, aren't you?" He jested, looking at Wynda's neutral stance. "Now aren't you glad I came along? Having to stick around with him and his stubbornness must spell disaster and annoyance."
Wynda looked away.
"What are you exactly hiding?" Nocten impatiently asked.
"Hiding? You're an astute observer, I'll say that much. Can't exactly disclose it as of yet, not until we head back. Don't worry. The more patient you are, the faster we'll be safe with our allies," He said, ascending through the forbidden territory with confidence. "Let's hurry on. It'll get dark very soon."
Insisting that they continue, Wynda pressed on with Nocten remaining behind, moving at a much slower pace than them. His guard remained up as they traversed through the Rot's territory, but as they continued further and further down, there were no signs of Rot activity. There was nothing but the bloodied carcasses and remains of what used to roam the lands to blight it. All signs of the nests that came before their time were expunged in a brutal manner, leaving countless dead larvae in their wake. Even the world couldn't tell Nocten how long they were laid to their demise for how well they blended with the ash that surrounded each of their footsteps.
After ascending a series of thin passages strictly appeared to have been carved by man, the three ducked below an archway made from the ruins of ages past. Multiple colossal sized ridges of quartz and iron ran through the surrounding rocks, glimmering with the stars of the night. Candles from within began to light open, signaling the shift in time.
Nocten and Wynda followed the man inside. The air around them felt heavier, as if the presence of survivors carried a certain weight. These individuals were not of any standing making the two unsure of whether to be joyous or cautious. As they traversed through the opening, several children piled together moved into the far corners with their eyes peeled towards the two outsiders. Other survivors within the hideout kept a close watch, keeping themselves faraway from their sight.
It was clear that they weren't welcome, but the man wasn't willing to bring it all down for them.
"Can't say I never expected this," The man said, scanning the perimeter of eyes circulating down upon their bodies like heavy weights. He turned to the two with a confident, yet uncomfortable gaze. "Pay no mind to them, for now. They're only concerned for their safety."
"Their... safety?" Nocten asked. "But we just got here, and we haven't done anything."
"Right you are, but your naivety once again shines, my boy. There's more to you that meets the eye, the same way that Curse is for you. Or are you really that blind?"
The pressure of the stares only dragged Wynda's morale even further down. She looked toward the man and wondered if it was all a mistake.
"Don't worry," The man reassured. "Let's talk in my office, just across from here. Of course, that would mean having to deal with all these folk watching you..."
And indeed it did; for as the two moved through the straightaway path toward the candle-lit expanse, their gazes were unavoidable. They murmured to each other, and no audible sentence could be made out besides the fragmented word 'Sancta.' By the time they reached the final stretch, the numerous lights from the candles casted innumerable amount of shadows across the stone walls, leaving the two to witness the horrendous reflection of their presence. Chills shot up their spines and their hearts pounded, believing that they were walking to their deaths.
Yet the man managed to keep them shielded from the crowd, closing the wooden door behind them to give the two a moment of safety. The candle-lit room was decked with massive bookshelves of tattered texts scattered across the perimeter. A majority of them were not neatly lined up, as several ripped pages scattered across the wooden floors beneath them.
Wynda and Nocten watched as the man unbuckled a leather pouch wrapped around him that they had not noticed originally. He placed it on the wooden table with a gigantic tattered red text branched open that was too intelligible to see from a distance. He pulled aside two wooden chairs and spaced them out.
"Have a seat," The man said. Pulling out a cigar from his leather pouch, he ignited it and sent a puff of smoke through the room. Sitting in his large seat, he leaned back. "Apologies for the crowd. I feel I owe you all an explanation for all of that." He referenced to the crowd outside.
Nocten and Wynda kept quiet, patiently waiting.
The man leaned forward, setting his cigar on a glass ashtray. "I know you find the folk outside quite frightening. Don't be mistaken, though. They're a veritable group of people, but unless you've been living under a rock brainwashed beyond belief, you'll understand the truth."
"Truth about what?" Nocten asked.
The man took another puff of his cigar. "That neither Sancta nor Curse are considered the ones on the good side, at least what I've seen. Your primearch isn't exactly the wisest nor the brightest on this planet. Your captain should be enough evidence of their true intentions."
"What do you mean?" Nocten angrily asked, feeling disrespected at his statement.
"Have you ever heard of the Savior?" The man asked.
Wynda and Nocten exchanged glances, but shook their heads in denial.
"Some say they were an acquaintance of the Huntress, some say they were the reason she perished. All the times that your people crossed the ravines have actually never returned. Have you ever came to question that? Because all their lives become forfeit once they enter Curse territory in an attempt to end their kind. In the end, all of their lives are sacrificed for the Savior."
"The Savior...?" Nocten whispered. "What's so important about them?"
The man leaned back once more. "The primearch breeds soldiers, much like you, creating fodder for Sancta's prestigious religion. Once you enter, you become a sacrifice. What entirely happens isn't entirely clear. Only rumors can tell," He informed them, leaning forward with his fist on his cheek. "Now, aren't you grateful that I was able to save you both from the Savior?"
Wynda looked down upon her clasped hands, remaining silent.
"This can't be real. What does he even have to gain from this?" Nocten asked.
Leaning forward once more, the man grinned at the two of them. "Control." He frankly stated.
Nocten was left speechless.
"Is that such a surprise to you? Think of it this way. The world is already doomed without the Huntress to protect them. You've seen it yourself. The countless disconnect between the two factions has existed for three years, just praying at this point with what little hope they have. So... why not indulge in the best of the best, draining what little life the weak have until it reaches the higher-ups? That's exactly the mentality your primearch has, and the steps he's taken, all the secret's he's hidden... all the chess pieces are in place to plant these lies in your head."
"I... I don't believe it." Nocten said, looking at Wynda. "Do you?"
Wynda remained still.
"Who said you had to believe it?" The man said, kicking back once more. "Though you'd be a fool not to. I've lived on this planet for quite sometime now, and I doubt you acknowledged our existence in the first place. You were all spoon-fed lies about Sancta and Curse being the only population left, weren't you?"
Wynda nodded in acknowledgement. "Every day..." She said.
"Right, and that sounds like a responsible primearch," The man added. "No doubt it was to keep you all at bay while the cards were dealt on the sidelines. This meaningless war is nothing but an excuse to control the Rot, like the Curse has almost succeeded in, while Sancta lives free. It's a cycle. You've seen it yourself. The Curse has almost mastered control, and it's only a matter of time before it gets to a standstill."
"A standstill? What does that mean?" Nocten asked.
"Before everyone dies... and no one is left to bury their corpses except the wind."
Left to soak in the humility of their past, Wynda and Nocten both struggled to make ends meet in their own heads. The man watched the two struggle to sort out the reality of what had been stated, fighting their internal demons in order to achieve the freedom. He didn't expect it to be easy.
"How could you know all of this?" Wynda asked. "Who are you?"
The man puffed another smoke from his cigar, grinning at the two. "You can call me Vayne," He introduced at last. "I'm a man of science, knowledge, and true honor."
Vayne... have I heard of that name before?
"But enough of that. Let's get into the details about why Wynda is so important in this equation," Vayne said, dropping his cigar into the ashtray. He gently nudged the gigantic book toward Wynda's direction and tapped his finger among its contents multiple times to emphasize its importance. This prompted Wynda to scoot forward, and her eyes immediately lit up. "Do me a favor and read this," He requested. "I've yet to decipher it myself, but I know that it's a very important text. I had to fight tooth and nail to get my hands on this."
"Vayne..." Nocten called, watching Wynda examine the contents of her unspecified language. "What part do you play in this?"
"I'll get to that right now. But everything you say in here must stay between us, and no one must know. Not even the ones outside." Vayne said.
Nocten's eyebrows furled. "What is it?"
Vayne leaned in again as the shadows from the candlelight caught across the hard lines of his face. His next words gathered power before he even spoke them. Then, with a hearty grin, he spoke.
"The Huntress is alive."
Wynda's eyes froze on the page, cutting her reading short. Beside her, Nocten could only stare in utter disbelief.
"What...?" Nocten uttered.
"That's right. You heard me. She's alive, but out of commission," Vayne confessed, puffing another cigar smoke out. "She's an interesting individual, from what I've gathered in my research. She's nothing but a corpse that's just asleep, taking a three year extended nap," He extinguished his cigar. "And my part in this is seeing that she wakes up and severs the Rot entirely."
"I don't think I heard you right," Nocten exclaimed, bolting from his seat. "She's alive?"
"Aye, third time's the charm." Vayne joked.
Nocten's brain felt like it was malfunctioning. "And... what kind of research did you even get this information from?" He asked.
To answer, Vayne turned his eyes to Wynda, and Nocten followed shortly after. They watched as her expression shattered completely with her wide eyes glistening in disbelief. She was unable to look away from the two tattered pages in her hands. The foreign words twisted together in her mind with impossible clarity.
It couldn't be real. It had to be a fever dream. It was nothing but an illusion she had to reject.
But the truth hit her with the force of a thousand knives.
"What?" Nocten asked, leaning forward toward Wynda, concerned.
Her cold lips pursed open, and she uttered a single word.
Astra.