I thought I was going to run the guy over like a truck with no brakes. Goiás charged head-on, and I had already brought my arm of light down to split the subject in two. But hitting a Herald of Shadow is like trying to hammer a nail into sand.
At the very last second, the Faceless Man came undone.
It wasn't speed. His body simply turned into a swarm of violet moths that exploded in all directions. Goiás passed straight through, his hooves of light tearing up the ground where the enemy had stood a second before.
I pulled the reins hard, making the horse skid on the spiritual dirt.
"Where are you, coward?" I shouted, craning my neck.
"Cowardice? I call it elegance."
The voice came from above. I looked up at the twisted branch of a dead ipê tree nearby. The guy was there, standing, balanced on the tip of the branch as if he weighed nothing. The pinstripe suit didn't have a single wrinkle. The "flesh" of his face remained smooth, a blur of skin without eyes or mouth, but arrogance oozed from him like garbage sludge.
I dismounted. Goiás was agitated, stomping his hoof and snorting light.
"Stay sharp, boy," I murmured to the horse, and turned to the Herald. "Get down here and talk up close, you wax doll."
The Herald laughed. Not with a mouth, but directly into my mind.
"So much anger, Dayanne... So much frustration. I can smell your exhaustion mixed with manure."
He snapped his fingers (fingers that were far too long, black at the tips).
From the ground around me, chains of purple smoke sprouted from the earth—the Chains of Vice. They tried to grab my boots.
"Back off!" I kicked the first chain, and the tip of my boot glowed with Aureus's light, burning the shadow. But there were too many.
"You fight for a God who demands pieces of you, my dear," the Herald continued, floating down to the ground but keeping his distance. "Look at you. A young, pretty, intelligent woman... mutilated. Aureus took your arm in exchange for what? To clean up other people's messes? To save old horses?"
I felt my blood boil. The light of my left arm wavered, flickering like an old lightbulb. He was right about the pain. He was right about the exhaustion.
Fall from Grace. The technical term crossed my mind. If I let doubt in, my Gift would fail. Umbra feeds on ego and desire. If I wanted my arm back more than I wanted justice, I would lose.
The Herald noticed the flicker.
"I can give it back, you know," his voice turned soft. "Umbra doesn't ask for sacrifice; it rewards desire. Join the Legion. We can make flesh grow again. You can be whole. You just have to want it."
I looked at my arm of light. Then I looked at the physical "stump" hidden in the sleeve. It would be so easy. To be normal again. To wear gloves, to hold a scalpel with two hands...
Goiás whinnied behind me. Loud. Shrilly.
It was like a bucket of cold water. I remembered the smell of blood in the stable that day. I remembered that I didn't give my arm because I was forced to. I gave it because I wanted to save who I loved.
The light on my shoulder steadied. The gold turned incandescent white.
"You talk too much, pal," I said, taking a step forward. The shadow chains recoiled before the brightness. "The problem with people like you is thinking everyone has a price."
I pointed my finger of light at his smooth face.
"I didn't lose my arm. I traded it. And I made a damn good deal. Because with a flesh arm, I could only treat calves. With this one..." I clenched my fist, and the sound of thunder echoed "...I can smash a demon's face in."
The Herald stopped. The relaxed posture vanished.
"What a waste."
He attacked. This time, it wasn't magic. He surged forward with supernatural speed, pulling a curved dagger made of black glass from his jacket.
He aimed for my throat.
I'm not a ninja. I'm not a Sanctuary Guard soldier with tactical training. I'm a vet. I know how bodies move and where balance lives.
When he lunged, I didn't retreat. I stepped into his guard, the opposite of what he expected.
I used the Martyr's Mantle. I expanded the light of my arm into a solid shield for a split second, parrying the black blade. The impact made my teeth vibrate, but the glass of Umbra cracked against the defense of Aureus.
With my right hand (the flesh one), I grabbed the lapel of that expensive suit.
"Gotcha."
The Herald tried to dematerialize, but my left arm was already in motion. I dropped the shield and concentrated all my Devotion into a single point: the palm of my hand.
"Light of Truth!"
I punched his chest. It wasn't a physical punch. My hand of light passed through his suit and sternum, seeking the corruption inside to burn it out.
There was a scream. A horrible sound, like tearing metal.
The flash lit up the entire forest, scaring off the Wraiths that were still lurking. The Herald was thrown backward, slamming against the dead ipê with such force that the spiritual tree snapped in half.
I stood there, breathing heavily. Cold sweat ran down my back. My left arm throbbed, and the light was weak now, almost transparent. I had spent too much faith on that strike.
I walked over to the wreckage of the tree.
The suit was there, scorched and smoking. But the body was gone. Only a puddle of black sludge bubbled on the ground, dissolving the spiritual grass.
"Ran away," I spat on the ground. "Weeds don't die easy."
Goiás approached, nudging my shoulder with his muzzle. The storm above us began to break. The purple and black sky was clearing, returning to the "normal" gray of the Frontier.
I patted the horse's forehead. My legs were shaking.
"Yeah, Goiás... I think we picked a fight with the big leagues."
That Herald wasn't a nobody. He had spoken with conviction. The Legion of the Abyss was operating in my backyard. And if they were trying to corrupt the land here, it wasn't just for malice. They wanted something.
I looked at the horizon, where the lights of the city of Belo Horizonte shone faintly through the Veil.
The war had left the capitals. And now I, a crippled country girl and a stubborn horse, were the first line of defense.
"Let's go home, Goiás." I mounted with difficulty. "I have a Pharmacology exam tomorrow, and if I sleep in class, the professor will kill me faster than that thing in the suit."