"Have… mercy… mercy," the woman pleaded between gasps and sobs.
Cassian remained unfazed.
"No," he said bluntly. The sound of steel scraping against leather made the woman whimper. "No mercy for the likes of you."
"Please—have mercy, I beg—please have… I yield—"
Cassian's sword flickered as it came to life, glowing crimson, the same hue as the tall man's blade.
"No mercy," Cassian reapeted, his voice cold and uncaring.
The sword fell.
It severed her head clean from her shoulders, biting so deep the ground itself split where the blade struck. The red light faded.
Orlin did not know what to say. It would be a lie to claim he had not wished for mercy—but he had done nothing in the fight, and the one who stood triumphant, Sir Ezo, had chosen death as payment. There was nothing Orlin could have done. Nothing but ask for forgiveness.
He knelt beside the body and prayed.
Forgive us, almighty Darkness, for we have spilled blood in Your time. You who sought to heal Your daughter—forgive us for robbing her of Your blessing. Let her rest in the Everdark, and grant us the same when our time comes. This I pray, as Orlin of nobody.
When he finished, the two men were waiting by the open door the woman had emerged from, both utterly unfazed.
"Done spitting your pretty words?" Sir Ezo said.
"They were no pretty words, sir," Orlin replied, unable to hide his annoyance. "It was an act of forgiveness to the Almighty. I even prayed for the both of you, who took the life of a yielding woman—but what would the likes of you understand?"
"The likes of us…" Cassian repeated in a low voice, but it was Ezo who roared.
"The like of us?!" Sir Ezo spat, disbelief thick in his tone. "You're the bloody same. Don't act better than us. If I were to cut a bloody finger, you'd be sent into the spire of madness from the price of Darkness."
"I dare you, then," Orlin said, though his words were braver than he felt—especially when he saw Sir Ezo unsheathing his sword.
"Enough. Enough, both of you," came a low voice as Cassian stepped between them. "Or I'll kill you both."
"Tell the boy to stop getting on my nerves. I haven't been myself this passing shift. The damn voice won't shut up, and the last thing I need is someone crying over a dead woman."
"Get in the house, Ezo," Cassian ordered.
Ezo obeyed, but not without throwing a glare at Orlin.
"And you, Orlin—be careful. A single cut could take any of us out of combat, and we still don't know if there's another hiding, ready to ambush."
"Aye," Orlin replied, still annoyed.
Inside, the house was nearly empty. A few chairs and a table were the only large objects, and a man curled up on the floor, fast asleep.
"Not a mutant. Ezo, kill him," Cassian said.
The crimson greatsword fell, slicing the man in half at the hip. Orlin helped detach the torso so it wouldn't mend with the lower half again.
Blood and guts slithered out as Orlin dragged the body away. The thick smell of blood reached his nose, and his stomach growled.
It smelled sweet—a scent so familiar and nostalgic, like the drinks his grandma used to make when it was cold. Honey, mints, and all kinds of plants she brewed to give it a unique taste only she could make.
Do it, came a thin, murmured voice—understandable despite its quietness.
Orlin glanced around, searching for who had spoken.
Cassian sat in one of the chairs, drinking from an old goblet. Ezo was outside by the door… peeing.
A voice rose from deep within his head. A shiver ran down Orlin's body, and he took a few steps back from the gore. He had heard of it, of course, but… this was his first time experiencing it.
"Orlin, come over here," Cassian called from the only door of the house. "Let's enter this room together. Ezo waits outside."
"Is something wrong?" Orlin asked, wondering why Cassian seemed so on edge.
"There is someone with a unique ability inside," Cassian replied. "Although the chances are he is deep in Darkness. With people like that, it is better to always be wary—one never knows what they can do."
Orlin drew his sword. Cassian drew his. With a kick, the door swung open.
Inside, a single bed stood in one corner of the small room. Upon it lay a large shape covered by a thick blanket. Orlin had expected another man like the one they had just killed, but beneath the cover were two children. The boy seemed no older than Orlin, and the girl looked younger by no more than a couple of cycles.
"Who is the one with the ability?" Orlin asked.
"The boy," Cassian said.
"Should we kill him too?" Orlin asked, but Cassian fell into deep thought.
Orlin did the same. The boy looked young—easy to break.
"You think he would give it away?" Orlin said. And if the boy were to give it to someone else… who would that be?
"Not easy," Cassian replied, his golden eye glimmering with something sinister. "But with enough torture, he would break."
_ _ _
The world regained its color, and Light had descended, vanishing Darkness, sending the healing God to rest. Orlin was awakened by screams and pleas coming from outside.
Men, women, and children were on their knees, their hands bound with rope—a small task Orlin himself had helped with. There were a little over a hundred of them, mostly the old and the young.
"Skinny, all of them," he heard someone say behind him.
It was true. They were gaunt, barely carrying any fat—a remarkable thing, considering Darkness could ease hunger and heal the body. Which made one man stand out all the more: a plump, fat man, clearly in pain from the simple act of kneeling, his face a darker shade of grey than normal.
"We are here to take your food," began Lord Altus Greenwood, a giant greatsword strapped to his back. "Yet the lot of you seem more in need of it than we are."
Orlin looked around for Cassian or Ezo, but only saw Ezo sitting by the steps of an entrance. Cassian was nowhere in sight.
"What are we going to do with them?" Orlin asked the man beside him.
The man shrugged. "Kill them, probably. Only Darkness knows."
To kill them all meant killing the children.
"If that's the case, I hope I won't have to spill the blood of the kids myself," Orlin said. He did not feel comfortable killing the young and innocent.
"Aye, but don't worry, boy. The one in charge of dispatching them is the butcher," the man replied. "He does the things no one else dares to do."
That was when Orlin saw Cassian standing beside Lord Altus.
"I brought you mercy," Orlin heard the Lord say.
One by one, men were dragged before Cassian, who cut off their heads without a second thought.
Some tried to run, but it was useless. Instead of a quick death, spears were thrust into them, their heads sewn and placed upon large branches atop the houses.
Finally came the fat man. Orlin saw him speak briefly to Cassian and Lord Altus before being handed over to a pair of soldiers.
Then it was the women's turn.
That was when the yelling began. Soldiers shouted to be allowed to take them before killing them. Even the man beside Orlin joined in, cursing at the Lord and begging for a taste.
Lord Altus raised his hands, silencing them, and granted his permission before turning away.
Like hungry beasts they surged forward, pushing one another, tearing clothes, striking those who resisted.
The older women did not fight. They had accepted their fate. The screams came from the younger ones.
Because of one of them, a fight broke out.
The girl Orlin had seen in the Dark—sleeping beside the boy—was dragged from side to side, crying. The sound drove the men feral; all wanted to be first.
Cassian stepped forward. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked, his tone far from pleased.
"Not your issue, butcher," one man spat. The others scowled.
"This son of a bitch ruined the fun," someone said.
"There goes a maiden taken from us," muttered another.
Cassian seized the girl by the hair. She cried out—but fell silent as her body hit the ground, her head lifted in Cassian's hand.
He had killed her in the blink of an eye.
Orlin saw the boy run toward Cassian, screaming the girl's name. A single punch sent him flying back, his face caved inward, his skull broken. The boy was dead.
And with him, the ability.
"Why kill him?" Orlin asked nonchalantly, caring more about the lost ability than the gruesome scene unfolding around him.
Cassian looked at his fist, blackened with blood.
"I acted without thinking. Just a reflex."
"Now we lost something important. I hoped you'd tell the Lord," Orlin said.
"We lost nothing," Cassian replied. "It didn't belong to us. What was lost was something we never held."
His bright golden eyes still shone—cold, sharp, intimidating. Cassian turned away and left.