The scent of the stable was thick—damp straw, horse sweat, and old iron. Kitana stepped through the threshold first, boots crunching over hay. Her gaze flicked across the rows of restless horses, each one shifting in their stalls with flared nostrils and wide, flickering eyes. Even they could smell the tension riding in with her. The stablehand eyed them warily, especially Kitana with her red eyes and half-concealed weapons but didn't ask questions. Gold was gold.
Lucian selected three sturdy mounts: a coal-black mare for himself, a golden buckskin for Kitana, and a dappled gray for Moira. As they led the horses outside into the soft morning light, Lucian turned to the girls, tightening the straps on his saddle. "Do either of you actually know how to ride?"
Kitana gave a small nod, her tone casual. "Yeah. My grandfather made sure I could handle a mount since I was a child."
Moira looked at the horse like it was a puzzle box. "No. I mean, I've seen them. But I was… kept locked away most of my life. I barely saw trees, let alone horses."
Lucian paused, then offered her a soft smile. "Then it's time you learned."
He moved beside her, gently adjusting her grip on the reins. "Hold it like you're guiding, not strangling it. This isn't a weapon—you don't dominate it. You trust it."
Moira frowned. "This creature is massive and could kill me with a sneeze."
Lucian laughed. "Only if you insult its mother."
Kitana watched from on top of her mount lips pressed in a thin line. She told herself she didn't care—didn't need to care—but the way Lucian's hand lingered on Moira's shoulder, the way his voice softened just for her, tugged at something in Kitana's chest she didn't want to name. I mean what was even the reason for that feeling?
Moira struggled with the saddle, grunting as she half-climbed and half-flopped onto the horse. Lucian caught her around the waist when she nearly tipped backward, steadying her with a low, amused hum. Kitana looked away, her jaw clenched tight.
"She's doing fine," Lucian said.
Moira muttered, "She feels like she's doing terribly."
Kitana rolled her eyes. "At least try to look like you're not being kidnapped by the horse." That earned a laugh from Moira, who sat up straighter. "I'll have you know, I'm bonding with him."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "His name is Swindle."
"Oh," Moira blinked. "Well. That tracks."
Once Moira was stable in the saddle—barely—they set off. The morning air was crisp, the sky shifting to a dull steel gray. Clouds dragged above them like bruises. The road was quiet save for the occasional crunch of hooves over loose stone.
Lucian eventually broke the silence. "We should stop by one of the hunter guilds soon. Take a few quests. Earn some coins. Training wouldn't hurt either."
Kitana shot him a look. "Oh? What happened—did money stop falling from trees?"
Moira chuckled under her breath.
Lucian quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, actually. Turns out the gold fairy unionized and left Esantea."
Kitana snorted. "Tragic. I liked her."
Kitana smiled, but it faded as the trees began to thin and something ahead caught Lucian's eye.
A broken wheel. A shredded length of cloth. Debris scattered like bones across the road.
Lucian raised a hand. "Stop. We go on foot."
They dismounted, drawing blades in practiced motion. Moira lingered behind, unsure of what she could do to help. Kitana stepped carefully over the wreckage. Burned wood, shattered crates, and bloody drag marks painted the earth. A carriage had been torn apart here—attacked. Quickly and violently.
She moved through the wreckage, her grandfather's katana in hand, the familiar weight comforting—but something felt off. She slowed, staring down at the weapon. It used to hum in her hands, a soft pulse of something more. A connection she could never explain, as it remembered her grandfather's spirit, his strength, his purpose. It had comforted her in times that she needed it the most...at least before the darkness. It had been hers.
Now…
Now it feels cold. Empty. Like she was holding someone else's blade.
Why can't I feel it anymore? And why did i just realize
Her grip tightened. Was it her? The demon blood? Had it severed her bond to it? Had it corrupted the very core of who she was?
She was still staring when something shrieked above her. Wings. Claws. A flash of teeth. She moved to raise her sword, but she was a heartbeat too slow. A beam of light cut across the clearing. A spear of golden radiance slammed into the demon mid-flight, pinning it against a tree with a crack of scorched bark and smoke. It disintegrated with a hiss.
Kitana turned, eyes wide.
Moira stood several paces back, one hand still lifted, glowing with ethereal gold. Her face was pale but steady.
Kitana blinked. "Moira… was that you? Or… that?"
Moira let out a breath. "Relax. It was me. I just—wanted to try. See if it will work."
Kitana stared at her for a moment, unable to decide if she was impressed or afraid. Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly. But before he could speak, Kitana gasped.
Lucian turned sharply. There, behind the ruined carriage, crouched a lesser demon—its grotesque form hunched over the body of a small girl. Her limbs were twisted unnaturally, her eyes open and glassy, mouth frozen in a scream she hadn't been able to finish. The demon fed with wet, greedy noises, blood coating its face.
Lucian's voice dropped into a deadly register. "Draw. Now."
The demon looked up from the child's corpse, its mouth stained black with coagulated blood. It hissed, tongue slithering over needle-like teeth. Its eyes—bulbous, lidless things—fixed on them, glowing faintly yellow in the dim light. Lucian stepped forward, sword already drawn. "Don't rush it. This one's a good test."
Kitana frowned. "Test?"
He nodded, tone calm but stern. "Use your powers. Control them. Fight as you'll need to later."
The demon screeched and lunged—but Lucian sidestepped fluidly, letting it pass him. "Moira, keep your distance. Kitana, you take the front."
Kitana gritted her teeth and surged forward. Her katana came down with a practiced arc, but the demon twisted, catching the blade on its chitinous shoulder. Sparks flew, metal skidding against unnatural armor.
It retaliated with a swipe that forced her back. She grunted and called on it—just a little—the pulse of demonic energy inside her. Her eyes flashed red. A faint glow lit the veins along her neck and arms. Infernal symbols filled her right side
The next strike cracked into the demon's flank, sending it stumbling. But it wasn't enough. The thing roared and reared, slamming a clawed hand down. Kitana dodged, barely—dust and gravel exploding beside her.
Lucian's voice rang out. "Breathe. Stay focused. Don't let it take you."
She growled, low in her throat. Her hand trembled—don't lose control—but she pulled back the flood of power, channeling just enough to leap forward and land another strike across its back. The flesh sizzled where her blade struck deep, but it didn't drop.
Moira stood further back, hands trembling. She lifted one, light gathering like morning mist. Her first spear of light flew wide, slamming harmlessly into the ground. The next one scorched the demon's side but didn't pierce.
She winced. "Sorry! I'm trying to calculate the drop but it's—it's hard when it's moving!"
"Focus, Moira, you did it earlier!" Lucian called, but not cruelly.
She nodded, her face going cold with determination. The third spear glowed brighter, its edge more focused—refined. It pierced the demon's leg, staggering it. Kitana took the opening and slashed across its exposed belly, black ichor spilling out like tar. The demon shrieked and swiped at her, clipping her shoulder. She staggered. It was limping, bleeding, but still standing. Its breath came in ragged wheezes. Veins pulsed under mottled skin.
Seeing the pain it caused to Kitana, Lucian glared at it, he sighed. "That's enough."
In one smooth motion, he drew his sword and vanished into a blur of motion. When he reappeared behind the demon, its head was already separated from its body. The creature slumped with a gurgle and collapsed. Silence returned—thick and heavy.
Lucian turned to them. "You both need to refine your control. You have the power. But power without precision is just noise." He didn't wait for their reply. Instead, he moved toward the horses to bring them closer, giving them a moment to breathe.
Kitana, however, didn't move. She stared at the small, broken body of the girl. Her own shoulder ached. Blood ran down her arm. But none of that registered. She walked forward and knelt beside the girl's crumpled form. Blonde curls, matted with blood. A tiny hand still clutching a broken doll. Kitana didn't cry. She never cried anymore. But something inside her twisted. The kind of pain that didn't make a sound.
How many more? How many more will they take before someone stops them?
She closed the girl's glassy eyes with her fingertips, careful and slow. Then bowed her head and whispered a soft prayer. Moira approached, brushing dust from her hands. She hesitated, watching Kitana with a strange expression.
"What… what are you doing?" she asked quietly.
"Praying," Kitana murmured without looking up.
"To whom?"
Kitana blinked, as if caught off guard by the question. "The Divine."
Moira tilted her head. "The Divine? As in… the gods?"
Kitana stood slowly. "It's just something I do."
"Not many believe anymore," Moira said, voice low. "Not like that."
Kitana's voice was dry. "Old habit, I guess."
Moira looked at her for a long moment, her gaze too knowing for someone so new to the world. "I didn't expect to meet someone who still believes." Kitana didn't answer. She turned her back to the girl's body and walked to retrieve her horse, wiping her blade clean with a shake of her wrist. Lucian met her halfway, horse in hand. He didn't speak—just handed her the reins.
They mounted up again. The road ahead was silent.