Boysenberry #26, Rainbow Sherbet #1, Rum Raisin #1
Rating: PG-13/R
Warning(s): R-tagged for some violence and slight gore (blood)
Flavors: Boysenberry #26 (wrath of god), Rainbow Sherbet #1 (red), Rum Raisin #1 (mother)
Extras/Toppings: Brownie, Hot Fudge
Word count: 6,666
Project: From a Place Past Paradise
Notes: Started on this a few days ago, pretty happy how it turned out, didn't think it'd turn out this long. Takes place after that little meeting with Autumn, revolves around Vela and delves more into who she was. Hopefully sets up for future events well enough. By far, Vela is my favorite character (both as a character and also to write). She's just a good mix of sassy and crazy. I hesitate to tag this as Hot Fudge because I believe that everyone in this story has their reasoning, and no one's truly an active villain. But, I'm going to say that, as of now, Vela is probably one of the closest characters to a villain, alongside a few less mentioned others. If only because she is that self-serving person that's a wildcard in it all.
Vela paced, always five steps right followed by five steps left. Her heels sank slightly into the soft bark-covered ground of her favorite woods. It had only been a day since she had agreed to tell Autumn what she knew. Vela still had ample time to prepare some story before the two would meet.
But, the whole predicament, the one that kept her mind racing through the late hours of night, lie in what should she say. She had to say something. It was, after all, a part of the deal that she had made with Red.
She could opt to tell Autumn the most despairing news: “Ya really, truly, are void of emotion. Whoops! Sorry, was only playing the other day.” Would she cry after that? Wonder why tears fell down her cheeks? Feel the pang of dismay pierce through her? Maybe then, Autumn would realize what exactly was going on inside her? No. Silly idea. Silly, silly idea. No, she would not suddenly understand. The magic was strong; that much was apparent. This magic had tampered with the redhead’s mind far too much, too long, for a simple statement to break. The girl was delusional.
Vela tangled her hands in her hair, tugging at the strands firmly. Not hard enough to tear anything out, but enough to conjure the pricks of sharp pain across her scalp. Frustrated was a word too mild to sum up her thoughts on the whole arrangement. What the hell had possessed her to agree to this? This took too much effort to try and intervene!
Why should she spend so much time overthinking it all? Charlotte would surely give up a large portion of her assignments to Vela for playing this right. All Vela had to do was not tell the whole truth and maybe, possibly, probably, weave in a bit of a plausible lie in there. It was nothing stressful or daunting for one such as her. Lying was a talent, one of her greatest.
She had skills that the Council praised her for, skills that made her one of the best in this line of work. The Council themselves had stated Vela was a great asset to the cause for her unrelenting ruthlessness, ambition (even though it was merely a manifestation of her hedonistic and selfish nature), and expertise in both physical and mental warfare. In short, Vela was a prime example of what the Organization desired from their reapers. The alignment of goals and values assured cooperation. She was deified, a reaper amongst reapers, and-undoubtedly-a Council favorite.
She clenched her fists tightly. A favorite she might be, but the label was useless in the wake of danger. After all, the title did nothing to stop the Council from killing their other “favorite”. The group of elders would praise those that appeared to be the perfect soldier, but running rampant and gaining their disapproval even once could very well spell one’s end.
The Council. That was how this whole mess began. They were the ones responsible for all this. The ones keeping every reaper under control. The ones that kept interfering with her plans. The ones that kept a constant reminder of what they could and most certainly would do, should she ever attempt something unsavory. She hated them. Hate, hate, hatehatehated them! For the power they held over her, for the remnant of fear they could still strike in her soul, for what they had done to-!
Shifting her glare from the tree she stood in front of to her hands, Vela watched as small rivulets of crimson escaped from between her balled fists. Ah. That had happened. Her fists tightened their grip once more before falling open. Palms facing the sky, she looked down and was met with ten angry and weeping crescents. A sigh escaped. The scowl on her face slipped away, brows losing their creases.
Vela let herself fall freely onto her back, the bark cushioning her landing. This was her life after death. How fun. Raising her hands over her face, she watched the scarlet droplets heed to gravity, slowly leaping from palm to cheek. She could not help but remember the trivial lines Ash had spoken once when it had been just the two of them on tour, many centuries ago.
“Rumors are rather amusing. Are they not, Vela?” The pale blond mused.
Vela lolled her head to the side, catching the man in her peripheral. “Whatever do you speak of, oh ever eternally wise one?”
A deep chuckle rose from his throat. “Why the rumors of us, of course.”
“I wasn’t aware there was anything between us,” she retorted.
“Pardon, I was too vague. When I was referring to us, I meant reapers as a whole, not particularly you and me.” Ash shut his eyes, placing his hand over his heart and releasing a sigh filled with adoration. “Nevertheless, there shall never come a day when I can see anyone as a being greater than she who enamors me so.”
Amber eyes rolled within their sockets as a snort snuck out. “Glad to have cleared that up. And, of course. You love Autumn so soso soooo much.” She puckered her lips, making smooching noises to mock Ash.
A frown began to form. “You should refrain from associating yourself with the commoners. You are beginning to speak in that terrible fashion.”
“Pleaaase. Do spare me the commentary, sir. You’re trying so hard to keep talking like that. No one ‘round here sounds like that anymore. You stick out like a sore thumb, speaking like the Council. How the hell do you even blend in with the other reapers? Your speech is a dead giveaway for both your age and position. Hell, if you can’t even get that right, how could you even go talk to a human at this rate? Boom! Cover blown!” Vela exclaimed. “‘Sides, your goddess”-Vela air quoted-“speaks the same way. We’re not all ancient or kiss-asses. I don’t see you giving her any flak over it.
“Anyway, not the point. What’d you wanna say? Rumors and whatever, blah blah blah.”
“Uncouth.” He shook his head disapprovingly. Schooling his frown into a smile once more, he continued, “However, I do see what you mean. I should improve on my subterfuge. It would be-“
“Yeah, ya really should.”
A vein on his temple throbbed slightly. Vela glanced towards him with a wide grin. She always knew exactly what annoyed him; she knew how to pester everyone she encountered. He could not let her win though, showing anger would be a loss; and so, he pressed on.
“As I was saying.” Ash adjusted the collar of his shirt, despite nothing being out of place. Nothing was ever less than perfect when it came to his appearance. “Rumors of us as reapers, from the humans. Do you not find it amusing that they believe our souls are black? That we should bleed black because we are such terrible plagues upon the world?”
Vela straightened and turned to face Ash fully, regarding him for a moment. “I wasn’t aware that you were so concerned with what they thought of us.” What point could he possibly want to make with this?
“It does not hurt to listen to what others think of you.”
“To those below us?” Vela raised a brow. “Didn’t know you see them as equals now.”
“True. We are the superior being. I have never been one to think any different.
“And yet,”-he paused, shutting his eyes-“for everything the humans believe and that we represent, in the end, we still bleed the same crimson life as they. Despite us dying once and being supposedly immortal, we are aware that we may still die yet again.” His lips twitched upwards. A silver gaze bored into Vela. “Rumors. Such interesting things, indeed.”
A drop or two more dripped down onto her face. The bleeding had slowed, the cut mostly healed. Vela’s palms glowed a bright gold. Her skin knitted together until everything looked as before. Quick healing was just a perk of having died once already. Resting her arms at her sides, she looked up past the canopy of trees.
Streaks of pink and purple painted the sky; the flock of birds overhead dotted the blue canvas. Everything around Vela was an endless sea of green, all variations of that single color. The wind moved gentle but swift through the tall rushes of shrubbery. Blades of grass danced alongside the muted bird song, giving praise for today and praying for tomorrow.
This particular forest that Vela lay in had no official name on any map, human or otherwise. But, it was known by all that it was one to be avoided. To journey through it usually entailed dying. Many a man rumored that there were fearsome, blood-lusting creatures that hid within the shroud of the misty woods. Others believed that the maze-like layout of the landscape, combined with the thick cover of fog, was what prevented travelers from safely passing through.
On the map, it was but a dense gathering of trees with no name that rested far from the reaches of any metropolitan city. However, on tongues of the few, the forest was known as Etos. And, to Vela, the forest was known as Home.
She knew every stream and river that ran through the land. Her life before her rebirth was here. She had lived here for as far back as she could remember. The land was old, far older than her own existence. Etos must have lived for many millennia-eons, perhaps-considering Vela herself had been alive for over a millennium.
Ten centuries had passed by rather quickly for her.
The first two decades came from her first life.
Her people had a longer life expectancy than others around the world during that time, but Vela had died at a somewhat young age. Not young enough to mourn for never having experienced the wonders of the world, but not old enough to have seen every glorious spectacle.
When the Reapers found her, she had been fairly happy. Vela had been a huntress, one of the best in her village. To be targeted by her meant certain death. Failure was not something she was familiar with. For her prowess in the art of the chase, her people believed her to be a reincarnation of one of their goddesses-Aona, the goddess of the hunt and war.
Vela seemed to be the only one that did not agree. She was a skilled warrior due to her own talents and training. To attribute all of her abilities to some fake deity was a great insult. But, despite hating the village’s fixation of gods, Vela could never find the resolve to leave or destroy her birthplace. This life within Etos was all she had ever known. Her mother had raised her saying these were her people.
And so, she stayed.
If there could ever be a benefit of being deified, then surely it would be the position of power one held. Her expertise led her to taking up a chief position on hunts. This was what she lived for, the thrill of chasing the weak and felling the strong; she would be damned if pride let it slip away so easily. Plastering a smile on her face, Vela endured the constant praise and gratitude to Aona. Everything came at a price. This was merely the cost for being a leader.
For all the grief that Aona gave her, Vela never openly denied being a reincarnation. The village was adamant on their adherence to honoring the deities. She assumed that she wouldn’t be punished like others for heresy, but one could never be too cautious. Self-preservation, an inherent trait that had been further impressed on her, dominated every decision she made. Speaking against the masses violated that very teaching.
There had only been one person to ever disagree with her title. Only one. It had been a middle-aged woman-Edia, one of Etos’ “witches”-that openly argued before the Elders that Vela was not Aona.
Vela took no true offense to the accusation; after all, she thought the whole god business was a silly belief. Maybe the gods did exist, but she knew herself to not be some mortal embodiment. The village elders, however, did not receive Edia’s claim so well. Disrespect needed to be rectified. In this case, it was resolved with an executional hunt, in honor of the aspect that Aona embodied.
The event was held on a particularly cold day, in the middle of the month now called November. The spectrum of the forest’s green was smothered by over a footfall of snow. The few lakes present had frozen over with a sheet of ice. Smoke from lit fireplaces swirled through the air, casting a haze of sorts across the town’s pathways. The streets were empty. Mothers hid their children inside with stern warnings and watchful eyes. The children, oh how they wondered what the event could be, what excitement they were being kept from. But, this was not a joyful occurrence for the young to partake in, lest one wanted innocence to be slaughtered prematurely.
The court hearing was held in a leveled clearing between the trees, south of the town center and north of one of the great lakes. Twenty of Etos’s leaders gathered in a circular formation. A warrior stood in between every two Elders with a variety of spears, daggers, and bows ready. One never knew when the convicted would attempt to run or retaliate.
A woman dressed in a faded brown tunic and pants stood in the center of the cage made of humans. Strands of sienna hair frayed out in every direction as if trying to escape from the confinement of the braid. Smudges of dirt colored her cheeks, further lending to her disheveled appearance. She stood straight with hands at her side in silence with neither a tremble nor cry. The cold seemed to pass her by, not daring to hassle a spirit that appeared to be fearless of death itself.
“Edia,” a male Elder to the west spoke. “Do you understand why you are here today?”
The woman turned fully to the man. Her hazel eyes narrowed for a moment before a smile crawled onto her face. “I do.” She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the left. “If I didn’t, would I be so calm?”
His nose scrunched up slightly, frown marring his face. “Then, do you understand what your punishment is?”
“But, of course, Niv.”
Eyes cloudy with the traces of blindness widened fractionally. The wrinkles that decorated Niv’s face cringed, fearful for everything that was to come. Punishment never left pleasant aftertastes. “You are to be hunted until dead, whether the cause be natural, accidental or by the hands of our own warriors.” His face grew slack, frown lines still present from years of pain and loss. “Parting words or prayer, Edia?”
“Prayer? Bah! Words?” She hummed softly under her breath. “Let me see. Let me see.” Her index finger tapped the steady rhythm of a march against her temple. “Ah, I do!” Edia turned in place, a slow spin, and met each person’s sight before resting her gaze onto Niv once more. “I did nothing wrong. And, as such, I shall not-nor ever will I-apologize.”
Niv shut his eyes. “Then…let it begin,” he spoke, weary and resigned.
The south end of the circle began to shift, both warrior and Elder shuffling aside, creating an exit for Edia. Her heart began to chant inside her ribcage, thundering to an accelerating tempo, screaming for sweet, sweet life. Edia gave one last glance to her former friends before breaking out into a run through the opening.
She tore out of the clearing, powering her bare feet through the hindering snow. Curse the weather, did it want her to live or die!? She knew she was safe for now. The fun of it all rest in the chase. Giving the prey a head start was the only way to ensure a decent challenge. She knew she had some time before the hunters would begin to rush after her, how long exactly was the question.
She would not wait for the party to greet her with weapons ready. Etos had sent its best warriors for her head. But, she had been a huntress in her own youth before retiring to her current-well, former now-main role as a healer. Out of practice but not inexperienced! Etos had been her hunting ground. She often bragged to her daughter: “I know every stream and lake that runs through the land!”
The Elders had turned loose the guilty equipped with a mental map. Oh blessed mistake! They had even released Edia in the direction of the southernmost lake in the forest. That particular body of water served as a barrier, a divide, to the edge of the tree line, to whatever lay beyond Etos. All she had to do was cross the lake and leave Etos. Not a single one of her people had ventured beyond the leafy enclosure, but today-oh yes, today!-would have to be the day. The outside held mystery, but inside held certainty. Inside was certain death. The lake, frozen, all she needed to do was to cross the lake.
Edia ran for what she thought was an hour. She had yet to hear snow being upturned or any cries of the target being spotted. The lake, her freedom, waited before her. She had made it with nary a terrible encounter. If the gods existed, then she would have to thank them for this gift-a lake frozen over for the crossing!
Although the ice nearest to the bank appeared thick enough for several men to run across, Edia was not sure where thinner ice may be. What was safe now might not be safe a few more feet in. She would have to tread quickly but with precision. Her body already felt heavy, numb from the cold, and her feet were bloody and marred with cuts from branches and rocks buried underneath the snow.
Placing a foot on the ice, she, mentally giving thanks for the ice bridge, pressed down, applying more weight as it held. It was good, strong. Edia began her trek across, glancing back once at her path from the clearing, marked bright against the sea of pure white. Her movements were odd as she crossed the lake, slipping a bit occasionally. Arms extended outwards to keep balance as feet danced to keep a body upright.
Blinding pain, threatening to sweep her off her feet, struck before the sound of war cries, the lightening before the thunder. Edia screamed loudly, high and piercing, as crimson agony bloomed from her right bicep. Whirling around, she was met with the sight of all ten hunters at the lake’s edge. One to the right lowered his bow, arrow true to its mark, embedded in Edia’s flesh, with a sneer etched into a scar-riddled face.
Thirty-two white soldiers gnashed as she quickly-it had to be quick, prolonging the pain was not good-drew the arrowhead from her arm. Her pursuers stepped forward, joining her on the ice. Edia clasped a hand firmly over the wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding, and spun to run to the opposite end of the lake. Surely, they would not follow her past the limits of Etos, would not risk abandoning the gods.
Nine of the hunters briskly started after Edia, only the marksman remained on the bank, drawing another arrow. Edia struggled to continue forward; her cut feet made the terrain slippery.
As three executioners drew close to her, a blur from her left shot out past the cover of the trees and onto the ice, knocking away and down two of Edia’s pursuers. The third, a female, spun to face their assailant but instead found herself reaching towards the hunting knife lodged in her neck, gurgling as her throat filled with blood.
The two hunters looked on as their friend dropped onto the ice, eyes wide and bulging, limbs flailing in the last throes of death. All the hunters present halted, charting a new plan, wondering and worrying who this interferer was. A fur-clad foot pressed onto the deceased hunter’s body as the knife was twisted once horizontally before being pulled out. A pool of the thick liquid spread outwards, giving color to what was once clear.
Bloodied knife in hand, the black-cloaked figure stepped towards the two on the ground, hovering over the one closest to Edia. Glancing upwards, the hunter gazed into a set of familiar amber orbs. “Lady…Aona,” he murmured, face twisted in a combination of fear, grief and disbelief.
“I am no Aona,” she stated, voice devoid of tone but eyes ablaze with destructive fury. Her foot slammed down onto the grounded man’s throat, pressing hard and refusing to let up. His arms shot up to pull at the leg as he struggled to gasp for air. The threat continued and did not move.
The spell seemed to break for Edia as her breath returned. “Vela,” she called, gently. Her eyes softened at the sight of her girl savior even as the fiery pain still radiated from her arm.
The hood of the cloak fell back, chestnut hair tussling with the chilling breath of wind. The remaining hunters turned quickly to one another, muttering a confused mantra of “Aona”. Vela conjured a small smile for Edia. “Are you well?” Golden eyes scanned the older woman’s body. The damage to her feet was not major as long as no infection began. Noticing the liquid leaking from between Edia’s palm, Vela’s eyes narrowed, and a frown overtook the smile. “I am late. Forgive me.”
Edia released a pained but loving sigh and brushed the topside of her stained hand against Vela’s cheek. “There is nothing to forgive.” Leaning into the hand, Vela ignored the cold prickles shivering up her skin. “Why did you come?” Edia focused on the hunters in the distance, checking that none had moved closer. The shock still held them paralyzed and rooted to their spots with the confusion and panic swirling around them.
“I could not abandon you.” The choking noises beneath her ceased, and the fingers anchored into her leg grew slack. Vela set her foot back on the lake. “We can leave together.”
“No. Outside is a mystery. I do not know what is beyond the forest. I cannot-”
“Let me!” Vela shook her head rapidly, hair whipping side to side. “…I do not want to stay here without you.” She entwined her fingers with Edia’s. “Please.” Vela nuzzled their hands. “Do not make me be Aona alone.”
Edia’s eyes drooped and her brow furrowed slightly in contemplation. Her gaze ran over the girl that stood before her. Oh, untruths. She was no girl. When had she become a woman, strong, valiant and seasoned? Was it when the Elders had said Aona lived amongst them, in the flesh? Or was it when Etos had needed more hunters to deal with the stray wanderers in the forest? Where did Edia go wrong? Or, rather, where did she go right?
Yet, for as fierce of a warrior that Vela was, she still appeared as a girl to Edia, with all her imperfections and undying loyalty. Perhaps it was Etos that had ruined it all for the two of them. “You are a woman now,” Edia conceded after a lengthy sigh. “Able to make your own decisions.”
A smile graced Vela’s lips again. “Thank you.” She turned her head slightly, watching the trackers begin to focus on the task of execution again, readying their weapons and preparing to resume the chase. Without looking away from the enemy, Vela whispered back, “Run.”
“I-”
“I will be behind you. I am not their target.” She threw a grin towards Edia. “After all, I am Aona.”With that, Vela turned to the last of the nearby hunters and dashed after him.
The hunter jolted in shock, aware of the approaching enmity, and clambered to his feet, scurrying backwards, nearly falling down with the lack of traction. Vela opened her assault with a sweeping slash of her knife. He quickly brandished his own blade, and the two began their dance.
Sparing one final glance at the brunette, Edia hurried to the tree line, knowing that the hunters would not waste any more time. Vela could only fight so many at a time. Only half the lake was left to cross. This would be hard but not impossible.
The group of hunters raced across the ice, five of them bypassing Vela and their comrade, gaining on their prey. Splitting off into two groups, they took on a flanking formation around Edia as they closed in on her.
One with a spear lunged at her from the right but merely grazed her already wounded arm. From the left, another holding a sword slashed at a diagonal, hoping to take her head. Edia lurched forward to avoid the blow. The third pursuer struck downwards with a longsword. Edia’s heart screeched in fear with a deafening ba-bump and banged against its cage of bones, trying to break through and out. The steel blade did not meet Edia’s flesh, but the momentum of the attack led the sword directly into the cover of ice.
Time seemed to slow in those moments, so much like it had when Edia had given birth to her only child all those years ago or when she had watched her husband be burnt alive in the town fire. Time always slowed at the most terrible of instances to let the magnitude of despair and hopelessness marinate and boil fully in a hearty stew of fear.
All six humans, five that pursued in the name of justice and one deemed guilty for speaking in opposition, shared a feeling of collective dread. Breaths caught in each throat as a narrow crack sparked outwards from the punctured ice. Everything begins from nothing, and what once was merely a fracture transformed into the intricate weavings of a spider web, beautiful and deadly.
Edia met Vela’s horrified gaze from her spot, mouthing the beginnings of an apology, when the ice broke through from the weight strain. Plummeting into the frigid water, the six opened their mouths in the painful shock of extreme cold. The freezing liquid breached unsuspecting lungs, swirling inside and lashing against the tender flesh, burning the organs from inside. Skin cried out from the drastic temperature change that triggered each nerve.
The six thrashed about in the water, pushing heads down to stay afloat. Hands scrabbled for the edge of the still solid ice. Weapons clashed against each other in the fray, puncturing flesh in the chaos. Six became five in the struggle, and five became four. Three found their grip on the edge but could not pull themselves out with nothing for purchase. Two of the three shoved against one another as they attempted to use the other to climb out.
Edia dug her fingers into the ice even as the last hunter, still stuck in the center of the hole, carved angry lines into her back with dagger-like nails. A shadow passed over her, blocking out the sunlight. She felt the warrior’s weight disappear from her back. A pair of hands worked quickly to pull her from the glacial graveyard.
When Edia next opened her eyes, she found herself on the opposite end of the lake. She was rolled over to her stomach, propped up on knees and slapped on the back furiously. Water spewed from her as coughs racked her form. Using what little strength she had, Edia twisted onto her back. A tearful Vela loomed above her, both eyes and mouth opened wide in panic. Edia caught a snippet of what Vela was saying, something along the lines of “fainted for a second”.
Exhausted from the swim, Edia uttered a quiet “I am well.”
Vela sniffled and drew the cold body to her own so that Edia’s head rest in the crook of her neck.
“You will get wet. It is not-“A volley of blood shot from her mouth with a particularly harsh cough.
Vela drew back quickly to appraise the witch’s condition. Vela’s eyes grew large, burning as the image began to write itself into her memory, scribbling itself over every happy moment she had shared with the woman. Scarlet blossomed from Edia’s back and dyed the soaked tunic. Tears escaped from the corners of Vela’s eyes as the world seemed to spin faster.
Edia’s eyes glazed. She did not feel the pain anymore; the frosty lashings had finally stopped. Why was Vela so worried? “Wrong?” She mumbled. “What...matter…?” They had made it.
The other’s mouth gaped, opening and closing rapidly like the drowning hunting party had, searching for words. “I…You…”Vela had seen the light fade from many a man’s eyes; she had been the cause for many deaths. The injury Edia had incurred was not something she could fix, not out on a frozen lake on her lonesome. A choked sob clawed and climbed from her throat.
“All…well. Do not worry…so.”Edia sluggishly raised a hand to stroke the tear-stained cheek. Her hand slapped against Vela with a bit more force than she intended. Why did she feel so tired? “For I love you so, Vela.” A shudder ran through her.
“And I, you,” Vela replied, stifling a sob.
Edia gave a strained smile back. Her eyelids fluttered a bit, losing the hazy picture of Vela for a moment. She looked to the tree line, blinking, and then opening back onto Vela. Made it. Yes. They had made it. This time, this time she would let Vela live without the overbearing pressure of the town. The smile grew wider before fading into a subtle upturn of lips. Her eyes shut. They did not open again.
“And I, you, Mother,” she whispered.
Vela brushed a lick of hair, wet but stiffening each moment with the sheer cold, from Edia’s face. The dirt had washed off her skin with the icy plunge, leaving only red to leak from her mouth. Vela laid the body flat on the snow, watching as the white darkened rapidly, melting slightly from the warmth that had flowed through her mother’s veins not so long ago.
Why was it that everything bled red?
In the days that followed, Vela did not attempt to exact revenge on the residents of Etos or leave the land. Instead, she found herself at the “edge of the world” as the Elders had called it. Vela stood beside the last trees before where the outside began. Fools. It looked the same as Etos. The only difference was the lack of foliage, but the snow fell there just as it did here. Still, she did not step foot from Etos. She was at an impasse, torn between a wide array of emotions-of anger, despair, fear, shame and self-hatred.
It took two days to shovel snow off and dig a grave for her mother. Vela buried Edia in her favorite place. It had been located to the west of the lake, in a meadow that, in spring, would fill with wildflowers from the entire color spectrum. The birds would sing here a melody that always warmed her mother’s heart, even on the days filled with gloom. Edia returned here when she was happy, when her husband died and when her daughter had been named Aona. Vela would come to visit her mother here in secret, since Aona was supposedly a superior being and belonged near her temple. It seemed only appropriate that Edia be buried where she felt most comfortable, under her favorite tree in the meadow.
As Vela spoke the last of a small prayer for her mother, a black mass swirled into existence beside her. She leapt to her feet, stumbling back from the dark ball. Magic?!Was this divine punishment? Retribution for every misdeed she had committed?
The void-like orb elongated, rising upwards like a tree, and took the shape of a human. Feet were the first to fully appear, followed by legs, all the way up to a head until an entire woman stood tall with hair that shone like the brilliant rays of sunlight cascading down her back. Her appearance seemed wholly warm and welcoming, with eyes as bright blue as the clear sky at high noon; but, the aura that emanated from the woman was undeniably malevolent.
There was nary a trace of frown or anger lines on the woman’s face; there were no smile wrinkles. “We have been looking for you, Vela,” the stranger spoke. Her voice was high and clear and tinkled like the small bells at the temples.
“We?” Vela asked, rediscovering her tongue and the ability to create sounds. Under the cover of her cloak, her hand edged towards her back, touching the leather covered handle of her hunting blade.
“We are an organization, The Order, if you will. We do not keep an official name. We tend to title ourselves by our type of work.”
“What kind of…work?”
The blonde’s eyes lit up with energy at this. “Immortal harbingers of death. Simple. You receive a list, and you kill humans on said list.”
Vela stared at the woman for a moment, not quite certain if she was losing her mind. Perhaps her mother’s death had taken a greater toll on her psyche than she had expected. Death never bothered her before. But, Mother had been the only one left to protect (and be protected by) in this delusional circle of hell.
“I am Ilianna,”the woman continued. “Also, I suggest that you keep your weapon sheathed.”
The brunette’s hand dropped to her side in shock. The movement earlier shouldn’t have been visible under the cloak. This one, this woman, had experience. She was dangerous.
“You have been placed on the draft. This is not optional,” Ilianna continued. She did not care that Vela stood rigid, stunned. “Your first assignment is nearby. I am quite certain that you are well associated with all of them.”Ilianna extended a long piece of faded parchment to Vela.
Hands trembling, Vela took the list and scanned through the names. Familiar. Oh, so familiar names. She glanced up from the list to her mother’s grave and then to Ilianna. “What must I do?” Her voice did not waver.
“Whatever you feel is appropriate. As long as they die, it does not matter. Time frame…for a first-timer, I think a week is sufficient to be done.”
“A week?” Vela snorted. “It will not take that long.”
Ilianna’s lips parted and curled at the edges, revealing a row of pearly teeth; her canines bore a slightly sharper point than normal. “Good to hear.”
Vela gripped the list tight, creating new creases in the paper.
“Let me just teach you a few things that you may find useful. Oh,”-Ilianna tapped a filed nail against her lips-“also, there is a matter of your payment. Yours is quite cheap though. And, I do believe that you will like it.”
Vela returned a grin of her own. “Then, show me.”
Etos was barren of human life within four days. Vela did not bother burying a single body, not after what they had done to Edia, and she did not feel remorse. The sympathy had paid for her new life. And, as Ilianna had said, she did rather enjoy this entrance fee. It was more a gift than anything else.
Numerous decades after her rebirth had been spent alone, living in Etos alone, doing solo work for the Order and having fun every day to the shrieks of the dying. If there was one thing she had been born to do in this world, being a reaper would be it.
In the dawn of her third century, Vela met what she affectionately called “The Crew”, the ragtag team of reapers placed together on a group assignment. Charlotte, the blonde near her age, seemed to enjoy her presence easily enough. Cipher, a stuffy young boy, not so much, but he tolerated her and came around in time. Ah. And then, there was Autumn. The original Autumn was the clearest reflection Vela had ever seen of herself.
While Vela thought of Cipher as an incredibly fun lad to annoy-the young were always easy to tease-and saw Charlotte as a good one for both fun and serious talks, she considered -oh dare she say it?-Autumn a friend. Autumn was the only one that shared Vela’s great love of the end and all the actions associated with bringing it about. The crazed power trips pumped strong through their blood and brought them closer together.
The following centuries were fun times, for the most part. She visited Ilianna occasionally; decades were the common interval between reunions. Ilianna was an older version of Vela that treasured her solitude. Vela was not one to spoil that for her. During that period, a lot of dying occurred, with all the wars and what not. Good times.
Then, an entire century was dedicated to the theme of fear and self-preservation.
Vela had the Council to blame for that one. Autumn was the perfect example of the consequences of going a bit too self-centered, a bit too wild. A great reaper always seemed to walk an incredibly fine line. The very act of living and having this job required the utmost attention in some dangerous balancing act. A little bit too far right or too far left led to death or some other terrible end.
When the Council made Vela and her friends decide Autumn’s fate, the vote split terribly. Outnumbered two to her one, that dreadful spell was cast over Autumn. Vela did not stay to watch her friend suffer within her own mind.
She left and took up life as a wanderer. Etos was not graced with her presence for at least a century. Vela feared that The Order would track her there and “kill” her in the same fashion as Autumn. She had seen her mirror shatter. She vowed to never meet the same accursed fate.
Until the past year, she had stayed away, far, far away from The Crew and their dastardly magic. But now, whether due to guilt for abandoning her friend or self-loathing for being a coward, Vela found herself throwing away every glorious aspect of survival instinct she had and decided to speak to the auburn-haired teen on shady street corners at dusk.
It was no secret that Charlotte and Cipher wanted Autumn to live. Vela could not fault them for that. After all, no one truly wanted to die yet again. But, due to their different outlooks on a fulfilling life, they just didn’t seem to understand that to live was to kill for reapers like her and Autumn. Anything else was mere existence, painful and dishonorable.
So, that brought Vela to today. Here she was, trying to decide whether to be an ally of the Make Autumn a Better Reaper cause or to be true to her friend. Really, it seemed almost wrong to fabricate such a story to the girl, regardless of the payoffs that she would gain for doing so. Little Red was a comrade; or rather, Big Red had been one of her favorite comrades back before the whole fiasco with the Council had taken place. She gritted her teeth.
Nowadays, she never seemed to win.
But, a promise was a promise. And though her compassion had been stripped from her, Vela still did appreciate like-minds, dedication and loyalty. There was only one right decision in her mind. However, the path to select it was definitely something she could craft to her own benefit.
Warning(s): R-tagged for some violence and slight gore (blood)
Flavors: Boysenberry #26 (wrath of god), Rainbow Sherbet #1 (red), Rum Raisin #1 (mother)
Extras/Toppings: Brownie, Hot Fudge
Word count: 6,666
Project: From a Place Past Paradise
Notes: Started on this a few days ago, pretty happy how it turned out, didn't think it'd turn out this long. Takes place after that little meeting with Autumn, revolves around Vela and delves more into who she was. Hopefully sets up for future events well enough. By far, Vela is my favorite character (both as a character and also to write). She's just a good mix of sassy and crazy. I hesitate to tag this as Hot Fudge because I believe that everyone in this story has their reasoning, and no one's truly an active villain. But, I'm going to say that, as of now, Vela is probably one of the closest characters to a villain, alongside a few less mentioned others. If only because she is that self-serving person that's a wildcard in it all.
Vela paced, always five steps right followed by five steps left. Her heels sank slightly into the soft bark-covered ground of her favorite woods. It had only been a day since she had agreed to tell Autumn what she knew. Vela still had ample time to prepare some story before the two would meet.
But, the whole predicament, the one that kept her mind racing through the late hours of night, lie in what should she say. She had to say something. It was, after all, a part of the deal that she had made with Red.
She could opt to tell Autumn the most despairing news: “Ya really, truly, are void of emotion. Whoops! Sorry, was only playing the other day.” Would she cry after that? Wonder why tears fell down her cheeks? Feel the pang of dismay pierce through her? Maybe then, Autumn would realize what exactly was going on inside her? No. Silly idea. Silly, silly idea. No, she would not suddenly understand. The magic was strong; that much was apparent. This magic had tampered with the redhead’s mind far too much, too long, for a simple statement to break. The girl was delusional.
Vela tangled her hands in her hair, tugging at the strands firmly. Not hard enough to tear anything out, but enough to conjure the pricks of sharp pain across her scalp. Frustrated was a word too mild to sum up her thoughts on the whole arrangement. What the hell had possessed her to agree to this? This took too much effort to try and intervene!
Why should she spend so much time overthinking it all? Charlotte would surely give up a large portion of her assignments to Vela for playing this right. All Vela had to do was not tell the whole truth and maybe, possibly, probably, weave in a bit of a plausible lie in there. It was nothing stressful or daunting for one such as her. Lying was a talent, one of her greatest.
She had skills that the Council praised her for, skills that made her one of the best in this line of work. The Council themselves had stated Vela was a great asset to the cause for her unrelenting ruthlessness, ambition (even though it was merely a manifestation of her hedonistic and selfish nature), and expertise in both physical and mental warfare. In short, Vela was a prime example of what the Organization desired from their reapers. The alignment of goals and values assured cooperation. She was deified, a reaper amongst reapers, and-undoubtedly-a Council favorite.
She clenched her fists tightly. A favorite she might be, but the label was useless in the wake of danger. After all, the title did nothing to stop the Council from killing their other “favorite”. The group of elders would praise those that appeared to be the perfect soldier, but running rampant and gaining their disapproval even once could very well spell one’s end.
The Council. That was how this whole mess began. They were the ones responsible for all this. The ones keeping every reaper under control. The ones that kept interfering with her plans. The ones that kept a constant reminder of what they could and most certainly would do, should she ever attempt something unsavory. She hated them. Hate, hate, hatehatehated them! For the power they held over her, for the remnant of fear they could still strike in her soul, for what they had done to-!
Shifting her glare from the tree she stood in front of to her hands, Vela watched as small rivulets of crimson escaped from between her balled fists. Ah. That had happened. Her fists tightened their grip once more before falling open. Palms facing the sky, she looked down and was met with ten angry and weeping crescents. A sigh escaped. The scowl on her face slipped away, brows losing their creases.
Vela let herself fall freely onto her back, the bark cushioning her landing. This was her life after death. How fun. Raising her hands over her face, she watched the scarlet droplets heed to gravity, slowly leaping from palm to cheek. She could not help but remember the trivial lines Ash had spoken once when it had been just the two of them on tour, many centuries ago.
“Rumors are rather amusing. Are they not, Vela?” The pale blond mused.
Vela lolled her head to the side, catching the man in her peripheral. “Whatever do you speak of, oh ever eternally wise one?”
A deep chuckle rose from his throat. “Why the rumors of us, of course.”
“I wasn’t aware there was anything between us,” she retorted.
“Pardon, I was too vague. When I was referring to us, I meant reapers as a whole, not particularly you and me.” Ash shut his eyes, placing his hand over his heart and releasing a sigh filled with adoration. “Nevertheless, there shall never come a day when I can see anyone as a being greater than she who enamors me so.”
Amber eyes rolled within their sockets as a snort snuck out. “Glad to have cleared that up. And, of course. You love Autumn so soso soooo much.” She puckered her lips, making smooching noises to mock Ash.
A frown began to form. “You should refrain from associating yourself with the commoners. You are beginning to speak in that terrible fashion.”
“Pleaaase. Do spare me the commentary, sir. You’re trying so hard to keep talking like that. No one ‘round here sounds like that anymore. You stick out like a sore thumb, speaking like the Council. How the hell do you even blend in with the other reapers? Your speech is a dead giveaway for both your age and position. Hell, if you can’t even get that right, how could you even go talk to a human at this rate? Boom! Cover blown!” Vela exclaimed. “‘Sides, your goddess”-Vela air quoted-“speaks the same way. We’re not all ancient or kiss-asses. I don’t see you giving her any flak over it.
“Anyway, not the point. What’d you wanna say? Rumors and whatever, blah blah blah.”
“Uncouth.” He shook his head disapprovingly. Schooling his frown into a smile once more, he continued, “However, I do see what you mean. I should improve on my subterfuge. It would be-“
“Yeah, ya really should.”
A vein on his temple throbbed slightly. Vela glanced towards him with a wide grin. She always knew exactly what annoyed him; she knew how to pester everyone she encountered. He could not let her win though, showing anger would be a loss; and so, he pressed on.
“As I was saying.” Ash adjusted the collar of his shirt, despite nothing being out of place. Nothing was ever less than perfect when it came to his appearance. “Rumors of us as reapers, from the humans. Do you not find it amusing that they believe our souls are black? That we should bleed black because we are such terrible plagues upon the world?”
Vela straightened and turned to face Ash fully, regarding him for a moment. “I wasn’t aware that you were so concerned with what they thought of us.” What point could he possibly want to make with this?
“It does not hurt to listen to what others think of you.”
“To those below us?” Vela raised a brow. “Didn’t know you see them as equals now.”
“True. We are the superior being. I have never been one to think any different.
“And yet,”-he paused, shutting his eyes-“for everything the humans believe and that we represent, in the end, we still bleed the same crimson life as they. Despite us dying once and being supposedly immortal, we are aware that we may still die yet again.” His lips twitched upwards. A silver gaze bored into Vela. “Rumors. Such interesting things, indeed.”
A drop or two more dripped down onto her face. The bleeding had slowed, the cut mostly healed. Vela’s palms glowed a bright gold. Her skin knitted together until everything looked as before. Quick healing was just a perk of having died once already. Resting her arms at her sides, she looked up past the canopy of trees.
Streaks of pink and purple painted the sky; the flock of birds overhead dotted the blue canvas. Everything around Vela was an endless sea of green, all variations of that single color. The wind moved gentle but swift through the tall rushes of shrubbery. Blades of grass danced alongside the muted bird song, giving praise for today and praying for tomorrow.
This particular forest that Vela lay in had no official name on any map, human or otherwise. But, it was known by all that it was one to be avoided. To journey through it usually entailed dying. Many a man rumored that there were fearsome, blood-lusting creatures that hid within the shroud of the misty woods. Others believed that the maze-like layout of the landscape, combined with the thick cover of fog, was what prevented travelers from safely passing through.
On the map, it was but a dense gathering of trees with no name that rested far from the reaches of any metropolitan city. However, on tongues of the few, the forest was known as Etos. And, to Vela, the forest was known as Home.
She knew every stream and river that ran through the land. Her life before her rebirth was here. She had lived here for as far back as she could remember. The land was old, far older than her own existence. Etos must have lived for many millennia-eons, perhaps-considering Vela herself had been alive for over a millennium.
Ten centuries had passed by rather quickly for her.
The first two decades came from her first life.
Her people had a longer life expectancy than others around the world during that time, but Vela had died at a somewhat young age. Not young enough to mourn for never having experienced the wonders of the world, but not old enough to have seen every glorious spectacle.
When the Reapers found her, she had been fairly happy. Vela had been a huntress, one of the best in her village. To be targeted by her meant certain death. Failure was not something she was familiar with. For her prowess in the art of the chase, her people believed her to be a reincarnation of one of their goddesses-Aona, the goddess of the hunt and war.
Vela seemed to be the only one that did not agree. She was a skilled warrior due to her own talents and training. To attribute all of her abilities to some fake deity was a great insult. But, despite hating the village’s fixation of gods, Vela could never find the resolve to leave or destroy her birthplace. This life within Etos was all she had ever known. Her mother had raised her saying these were her people.
And so, she stayed.
If there could ever be a benefit of being deified, then surely it would be the position of power one held. Her expertise led her to taking up a chief position on hunts. This was what she lived for, the thrill of chasing the weak and felling the strong; she would be damned if pride let it slip away so easily. Plastering a smile on her face, Vela endured the constant praise and gratitude to Aona. Everything came at a price. This was merely the cost for being a leader.
For all the grief that Aona gave her, Vela never openly denied being a reincarnation. The village was adamant on their adherence to honoring the deities. She assumed that she wouldn’t be punished like others for heresy, but one could never be too cautious. Self-preservation, an inherent trait that had been further impressed on her, dominated every decision she made. Speaking against the masses violated that very teaching.
There had only been one person to ever disagree with her title. Only one. It had been a middle-aged woman-Edia, one of Etos’ “witches”-that openly argued before the Elders that Vela was not Aona.
Vela took no true offense to the accusation; after all, she thought the whole god business was a silly belief. Maybe the gods did exist, but she knew herself to not be some mortal embodiment. The village elders, however, did not receive Edia’s claim so well. Disrespect needed to be rectified. In this case, it was resolved with an executional hunt, in honor of the aspect that Aona embodied.
The event was held on a particularly cold day, in the middle of the month now called November. The spectrum of the forest’s green was smothered by over a footfall of snow. The few lakes present had frozen over with a sheet of ice. Smoke from lit fireplaces swirled through the air, casting a haze of sorts across the town’s pathways. The streets were empty. Mothers hid their children inside with stern warnings and watchful eyes. The children, oh how they wondered what the event could be, what excitement they were being kept from. But, this was not a joyful occurrence for the young to partake in, lest one wanted innocence to be slaughtered prematurely.
The court hearing was held in a leveled clearing between the trees, south of the town center and north of one of the great lakes. Twenty of Etos’s leaders gathered in a circular formation. A warrior stood in between every two Elders with a variety of spears, daggers, and bows ready. One never knew when the convicted would attempt to run or retaliate.
A woman dressed in a faded brown tunic and pants stood in the center of the cage made of humans. Strands of sienna hair frayed out in every direction as if trying to escape from the confinement of the braid. Smudges of dirt colored her cheeks, further lending to her disheveled appearance. She stood straight with hands at her side in silence with neither a tremble nor cry. The cold seemed to pass her by, not daring to hassle a spirit that appeared to be fearless of death itself.
“Edia,” a male Elder to the west spoke. “Do you understand why you are here today?”
The woman turned fully to the man. Her hazel eyes narrowed for a moment before a smile crawled onto her face. “I do.” She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the left. “If I didn’t, would I be so calm?”
His nose scrunched up slightly, frown marring his face. “Then, do you understand what your punishment is?”
“But, of course, Niv.”
Eyes cloudy with the traces of blindness widened fractionally. The wrinkles that decorated Niv’s face cringed, fearful for everything that was to come. Punishment never left pleasant aftertastes. “You are to be hunted until dead, whether the cause be natural, accidental or by the hands of our own warriors.” His face grew slack, frown lines still present from years of pain and loss. “Parting words or prayer, Edia?”
“Prayer? Bah! Words?” She hummed softly under her breath. “Let me see. Let me see.” Her index finger tapped the steady rhythm of a march against her temple. “Ah, I do!” Edia turned in place, a slow spin, and met each person’s sight before resting her gaze onto Niv once more. “I did nothing wrong. And, as such, I shall not-nor ever will I-apologize.”
Niv shut his eyes. “Then…let it begin,” he spoke, weary and resigned.
The south end of the circle began to shift, both warrior and Elder shuffling aside, creating an exit for Edia. Her heart began to chant inside her ribcage, thundering to an accelerating tempo, screaming for sweet, sweet life. Edia gave one last glance to her former friends before breaking out into a run through the opening.
She tore out of the clearing, powering her bare feet through the hindering snow. Curse the weather, did it want her to live or die!? She knew she was safe for now. The fun of it all rest in the chase. Giving the prey a head start was the only way to ensure a decent challenge. She knew she had some time before the hunters would begin to rush after her, how long exactly was the question.
She would not wait for the party to greet her with weapons ready. Etos had sent its best warriors for her head. But, she had been a huntress in her own youth before retiring to her current-well, former now-main role as a healer. Out of practice but not inexperienced! Etos had been her hunting ground. She often bragged to her daughter: “I know every stream and lake that runs through the land!”
The Elders had turned loose the guilty equipped with a mental map. Oh blessed mistake! They had even released Edia in the direction of the southernmost lake in the forest. That particular body of water served as a barrier, a divide, to the edge of the tree line, to whatever lay beyond Etos. All she had to do was cross the lake and leave Etos. Not a single one of her people had ventured beyond the leafy enclosure, but today-oh yes, today!-would have to be the day. The outside held mystery, but inside held certainty. Inside was certain death. The lake, frozen, all she needed to do was to cross the lake.
Edia ran for what she thought was an hour. She had yet to hear snow being upturned or any cries of the target being spotted. The lake, her freedom, waited before her. She had made it with nary a terrible encounter. If the gods existed, then she would have to thank them for this gift-a lake frozen over for the crossing!
Although the ice nearest to the bank appeared thick enough for several men to run across, Edia was not sure where thinner ice may be. What was safe now might not be safe a few more feet in. She would have to tread quickly but with precision. Her body already felt heavy, numb from the cold, and her feet were bloody and marred with cuts from branches and rocks buried underneath the snow.
Placing a foot on the ice, she, mentally giving thanks for the ice bridge, pressed down, applying more weight as it held. It was good, strong. Edia began her trek across, glancing back once at her path from the clearing, marked bright against the sea of pure white. Her movements were odd as she crossed the lake, slipping a bit occasionally. Arms extended outwards to keep balance as feet danced to keep a body upright.
Blinding pain, threatening to sweep her off her feet, struck before the sound of war cries, the lightening before the thunder. Edia screamed loudly, high and piercing, as crimson agony bloomed from her right bicep. Whirling around, she was met with the sight of all ten hunters at the lake’s edge. One to the right lowered his bow, arrow true to its mark, embedded in Edia’s flesh, with a sneer etched into a scar-riddled face.
Thirty-two white soldiers gnashed as she quickly-it had to be quick, prolonging the pain was not good-drew the arrowhead from her arm. Her pursuers stepped forward, joining her on the ice. Edia clasped a hand firmly over the wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding, and spun to run to the opposite end of the lake. Surely, they would not follow her past the limits of Etos, would not risk abandoning the gods.
Nine of the hunters briskly started after Edia, only the marksman remained on the bank, drawing another arrow. Edia struggled to continue forward; her cut feet made the terrain slippery.
As three executioners drew close to her, a blur from her left shot out past the cover of the trees and onto the ice, knocking away and down two of Edia’s pursuers. The third, a female, spun to face their assailant but instead found herself reaching towards the hunting knife lodged in her neck, gurgling as her throat filled with blood.
The two hunters looked on as their friend dropped onto the ice, eyes wide and bulging, limbs flailing in the last throes of death. All the hunters present halted, charting a new plan, wondering and worrying who this interferer was. A fur-clad foot pressed onto the deceased hunter’s body as the knife was twisted once horizontally before being pulled out. A pool of the thick liquid spread outwards, giving color to what was once clear.
Bloodied knife in hand, the black-cloaked figure stepped towards the two on the ground, hovering over the one closest to Edia. Glancing upwards, the hunter gazed into a set of familiar amber orbs. “Lady…Aona,” he murmured, face twisted in a combination of fear, grief and disbelief.
“I am no Aona,” she stated, voice devoid of tone but eyes ablaze with destructive fury. Her foot slammed down onto the grounded man’s throat, pressing hard and refusing to let up. His arms shot up to pull at the leg as he struggled to gasp for air. The threat continued and did not move.
The spell seemed to break for Edia as her breath returned. “Vela,” she called, gently. Her eyes softened at the sight of her girl savior even as the fiery pain still radiated from her arm.
The hood of the cloak fell back, chestnut hair tussling with the chilling breath of wind. The remaining hunters turned quickly to one another, muttering a confused mantra of “Aona”. Vela conjured a small smile for Edia. “Are you well?” Golden eyes scanned the older woman’s body. The damage to her feet was not major as long as no infection began. Noticing the liquid leaking from between Edia’s palm, Vela’s eyes narrowed, and a frown overtook the smile. “I am late. Forgive me.”
Edia released a pained but loving sigh and brushed the topside of her stained hand against Vela’s cheek. “There is nothing to forgive.” Leaning into the hand, Vela ignored the cold prickles shivering up her skin. “Why did you come?” Edia focused on the hunters in the distance, checking that none had moved closer. The shock still held them paralyzed and rooted to their spots with the confusion and panic swirling around them.
“I could not abandon you.” The choking noises beneath her ceased, and the fingers anchored into her leg grew slack. Vela set her foot back on the lake. “We can leave together.”
“No. Outside is a mystery. I do not know what is beyond the forest. I cannot-”
“Let me!” Vela shook her head rapidly, hair whipping side to side. “…I do not want to stay here without you.” She entwined her fingers with Edia’s. “Please.” Vela nuzzled their hands. “Do not make me be Aona alone.”
Edia’s eyes drooped and her brow furrowed slightly in contemplation. Her gaze ran over the girl that stood before her. Oh, untruths. She was no girl. When had she become a woman, strong, valiant and seasoned? Was it when the Elders had said Aona lived amongst them, in the flesh? Or was it when Etos had needed more hunters to deal with the stray wanderers in the forest? Where did Edia go wrong? Or, rather, where did she go right?
Yet, for as fierce of a warrior that Vela was, she still appeared as a girl to Edia, with all her imperfections and undying loyalty. Perhaps it was Etos that had ruined it all for the two of them. “You are a woman now,” Edia conceded after a lengthy sigh. “Able to make your own decisions.”
A smile graced Vela’s lips again. “Thank you.” She turned her head slightly, watching the trackers begin to focus on the task of execution again, readying their weapons and preparing to resume the chase. Without looking away from the enemy, Vela whispered back, “Run.”
“I-”
“I will be behind you. I am not their target.” She threw a grin towards Edia. “After all, I am Aona.”With that, Vela turned to the last of the nearby hunters and dashed after him.
The hunter jolted in shock, aware of the approaching enmity, and clambered to his feet, scurrying backwards, nearly falling down with the lack of traction. Vela opened her assault with a sweeping slash of her knife. He quickly brandished his own blade, and the two began their dance.
Sparing one final glance at the brunette, Edia hurried to the tree line, knowing that the hunters would not waste any more time. Vela could only fight so many at a time. Only half the lake was left to cross. This would be hard but not impossible.
The group of hunters raced across the ice, five of them bypassing Vela and their comrade, gaining on their prey. Splitting off into two groups, they took on a flanking formation around Edia as they closed in on her.
One with a spear lunged at her from the right but merely grazed her already wounded arm. From the left, another holding a sword slashed at a diagonal, hoping to take her head. Edia lurched forward to avoid the blow. The third pursuer struck downwards with a longsword. Edia’s heart screeched in fear with a deafening ba-bump and banged against its cage of bones, trying to break through and out. The steel blade did not meet Edia’s flesh, but the momentum of the attack led the sword directly into the cover of ice.
Time seemed to slow in those moments, so much like it had when Edia had given birth to her only child all those years ago or when she had watched her husband be burnt alive in the town fire. Time always slowed at the most terrible of instances to let the magnitude of despair and hopelessness marinate and boil fully in a hearty stew of fear.
All six humans, five that pursued in the name of justice and one deemed guilty for speaking in opposition, shared a feeling of collective dread. Breaths caught in each throat as a narrow crack sparked outwards from the punctured ice. Everything begins from nothing, and what once was merely a fracture transformed into the intricate weavings of a spider web, beautiful and deadly.
Edia met Vela’s horrified gaze from her spot, mouthing the beginnings of an apology, when the ice broke through from the weight strain. Plummeting into the frigid water, the six opened their mouths in the painful shock of extreme cold. The freezing liquid breached unsuspecting lungs, swirling inside and lashing against the tender flesh, burning the organs from inside. Skin cried out from the drastic temperature change that triggered each nerve.
The six thrashed about in the water, pushing heads down to stay afloat. Hands scrabbled for the edge of the still solid ice. Weapons clashed against each other in the fray, puncturing flesh in the chaos. Six became five in the struggle, and five became four. Three found their grip on the edge but could not pull themselves out with nothing for purchase. Two of the three shoved against one another as they attempted to use the other to climb out.
Edia dug her fingers into the ice even as the last hunter, still stuck in the center of the hole, carved angry lines into her back with dagger-like nails. A shadow passed over her, blocking out the sunlight. She felt the warrior’s weight disappear from her back. A pair of hands worked quickly to pull her from the glacial graveyard.
When Edia next opened her eyes, she found herself on the opposite end of the lake. She was rolled over to her stomach, propped up on knees and slapped on the back furiously. Water spewed from her as coughs racked her form. Using what little strength she had, Edia twisted onto her back. A tearful Vela loomed above her, both eyes and mouth opened wide in panic. Edia caught a snippet of what Vela was saying, something along the lines of “fainted for a second”.
Exhausted from the swim, Edia uttered a quiet “I am well.”
Vela sniffled and drew the cold body to her own so that Edia’s head rest in the crook of her neck.
“You will get wet. It is not-“A volley of blood shot from her mouth with a particularly harsh cough.
Vela drew back quickly to appraise the witch’s condition. Vela’s eyes grew large, burning as the image began to write itself into her memory, scribbling itself over every happy moment she had shared with the woman. Scarlet blossomed from Edia’s back and dyed the soaked tunic. Tears escaped from the corners of Vela’s eyes as the world seemed to spin faster.
Edia’s eyes glazed. She did not feel the pain anymore; the frosty lashings had finally stopped. Why was Vela so worried? “Wrong?” She mumbled. “What...matter…?” They had made it.
The other’s mouth gaped, opening and closing rapidly like the drowning hunting party had, searching for words. “I…You…”Vela had seen the light fade from many a man’s eyes; she had been the cause for many deaths. The injury Edia had incurred was not something she could fix, not out on a frozen lake on her lonesome. A choked sob clawed and climbed from her throat.
“All…well. Do not worry…so.”Edia sluggishly raised a hand to stroke the tear-stained cheek. Her hand slapped against Vela with a bit more force than she intended. Why did she feel so tired? “For I love you so, Vela.” A shudder ran through her.
“And I, you,” Vela replied, stifling a sob.
Edia gave a strained smile back. Her eyelids fluttered a bit, losing the hazy picture of Vela for a moment. She looked to the tree line, blinking, and then opening back onto Vela. Made it. Yes. They had made it. This time, this time she would let Vela live without the overbearing pressure of the town. The smile grew wider before fading into a subtle upturn of lips. Her eyes shut. They did not open again.
“And I, you, Mother,” she whispered.
Vela brushed a lick of hair, wet but stiffening each moment with the sheer cold, from Edia’s face. The dirt had washed off her skin with the icy plunge, leaving only red to leak from her mouth. Vela laid the body flat on the snow, watching as the white darkened rapidly, melting slightly from the warmth that had flowed through her mother’s veins not so long ago.
Why was it that everything bled red?
In the days that followed, Vela did not attempt to exact revenge on the residents of Etos or leave the land. Instead, she found herself at the “edge of the world” as the Elders had called it. Vela stood beside the last trees before where the outside began. Fools. It looked the same as Etos. The only difference was the lack of foliage, but the snow fell there just as it did here. Still, she did not step foot from Etos. She was at an impasse, torn between a wide array of emotions-of anger, despair, fear, shame and self-hatred.
It took two days to shovel snow off and dig a grave for her mother. Vela buried Edia in her favorite place. It had been located to the west of the lake, in a meadow that, in spring, would fill with wildflowers from the entire color spectrum. The birds would sing here a melody that always warmed her mother’s heart, even on the days filled with gloom. Edia returned here when she was happy, when her husband died and when her daughter had been named Aona. Vela would come to visit her mother here in secret, since Aona was supposedly a superior being and belonged near her temple. It seemed only appropriate that Edia be buried where she felt most comfortable, under her favorite tree in the meadow.
As Vela spoke the last of a small prayer for her mother, a black mass swirled into existence beside her. She leapt to her feet, stumbling back from the dark ball. Magic?!Was this divine punishment? Retribution for every misdeed she had committed?
The void-like orb elongated, rising upwards like a tree, and took the shape of a human. Feet were the first to fully appear, followed by legs, all the way up to a head until an entire woman stood tall with hair that shone like the brilliant rays of sunlight cascading down her back. Her appearance seemed wholly warm and welcoming, with eyes as bright blue as the clear sky at high noon; but, the aura that emanated from the woman was undeniably malevolent.
There was nary a trace of frown or anger lines on the woman’s face; there were no smile wrinkles. “We have been looking for you, Vela,” the stranger spoke. Her voice was high and clear and tinkled like the small bells at the temples.
“We?” Vela asked, rediscovering her tongue and the ability to create sounds. Under the cover of her cloak, her hand edged towards her back, touching the leather covered handle of her hunting blade.
“We are an organization, The Order, if you will. We do not keep an official name. We tend to title ourselves by our type of work.”
“What kind of…work?”
The blonde’s eyes lit up with energy at this. “Immortal harbingers of death. Simple. You receive a list, and you kill humans on said list.”
Vela stared at the woman for a moment, not quite certain if she was losing her mind. Perhaps her mother’s death had taken a greater toll on her psyche than she had expected. Death never bothered her before. But, Mother had been the only one left to protect (and be protected by) in this delusional circle of hell.
“I am Ilianna,”the woman continued. “Also, I suggest that you keep your weapon sheathed.”
The brunette’s hand dropped to her side in shock. The movement earlier shouldn’t have been visible under the cloak. This one, this woman, had experience. She was dangerous.
“You have been placed on the draft. This is not optional,” Ilianna continued. She did not care that Vela stood rigid, stunned. “Your first assignment is nearby. I am quite certain that you are well associated with all of them.”Ilianna extended a long piece of faded parchment to Vela.
Hands trembling, Vela took the list and scanned through the names. Familiar. Oh, so familiar names. She glanced up from the list to her mother’s grave and then to Ilianna. “What must I do?” Her voice did not waver.
“Whatever you feel is appropriate. As long as they die, it does not matter. Time frame…for a first-timer, I think a week is sufficient to be done.”
“A week?” Vela snorted. “It will not take that long.”
Ilianna’s lips parted and curled at the edges, revealing a row of pearly teeth; her canines bore a slightly sharper point than normal. “Good to hear.”
Vela gripped the list tight, creating new creases in the paper.
“Let me just teach you a few things that you may find useful. Oh,”-Ilianna tapped a filed nail against her lips-“also, there is a matter of your payment. Yours is quite cheap though. And, I do believe that you will like it.”
Vela returned a grin of her own. “Then, show me.”
Etos was barren of human life within four days. Vela did not bother burying a single body, not after what they had done to Edia, and she did not feel remorse. The sympathy had paid for her new life. And, as Ilianna had said, she did rather enjoy this entrance fee. It was more a gift than anything else.
Numerous decades after her rebirth had been spent alone, living in Etos alone, doing solo work for the Order and having fun every day to the shrieks of the dying. If there was one thing she had been born to do in this world, being a reaper would be it.
In the dawn of her third century, Vela met what she affectionately called “The Crew”, the ragtag team of reapers placed together on a group assignment. Charlotte, the blonde near her age, seemed to enjoy her presence easily enough. Cipher, a stuffy young boy, not so much, but he tolerated her and came around in time. Ah. And then, there was Autumn. The original Autumn was the clearest reflection Vela had ever seen of herself.
While Vela thought of Cipher as an incredibly fun lad to annoy-the young were always easy to tease-and saw Charlotte as a good one for both fun and serious talks, she considered -oh dare she say it?-Autumn a friend. Autumn was the only one that shared Vela’s great love of the end and all the actions associated with bringing it about. The crazed power trips pumped strong through their blood and brought them closer together.
The following centuries were fun times, for the most part. She visited Ilianna occasionally; decades were the common interval between reunions. Ilianna was an older version of Vela that treasured her solitude. Vela was not one to spoil that for her. During that period, a lot of dying occurred, with all the wars and what not. Good times.
Then, an entire century was dedicated to the theme of fear and self-preservation.
Vela had the Council to blame for that one. Autumn was the perfect example of the consequences of going a bit too self-centered, a bit too wild. A great reaper always seemed to walk an incredibly fine line. The very act of living and having this job required the utmost attention in some dangerous balancing act. A little bit too far right or too far left led to death or some other terrible end.
When the Council made Vela and her friends decide Autumn’s fate, the vote split terribly. Outnumbered two to her one, that dreadful spell was cast over Autumn. Vela did not stay to watch her friend suffer within her own mind.
She left and took up life as a wanderer. Etos was not graced with her presence for at least a century. Vela feared that The Order would track her there and “kill” her in the same fashion as Autumn. She had seen her mirror shatter. She vowed to never meet the same accursed fate.
Until the past year, she had stayed away, far, far away from The Crew and their dastardly magic. But now, whether due to guilt for abandoning her friend or self-loathing for being a coward, Vela found herself throwing away every glorious aspect of survival instinct she had and decided to speak to the auburn-haired teen on shady street corners at dusk.
It was no secret that Charlotte and Cipher wanted Autumn to live. Vela could not fault them for that. After all, no one truly wanted to die yet again. But, due to their different outlooks on a fulfilling life, they just didn’t seem to understand that to live was to kill for reapers like her and Autumn. Anything else was mere existence, painful and dishonorable.
So, that brought Vela to today. Here she was, trying to decide whether to be an ally of the Make Autumn a Better Reaper cause or to be true to her friend. Really, it seemed almost wrong to fabricate such a story to the girl, regardless of the payoffs that she would gain for doing so. Little Red was a comrade; or rather, Big Red had been one of her favorite comrades back before the whole fiasco with the Council had taken place. She gritted her teeth.
Nowadays, she never seemed to win.
But, a promise was a promise. And though her compassion had been stripped from her, Vela still did appreciate like-minds, dedication and loyalty. There was only one right decision in her mind. However, the path to select it was definitely something she could craft to her own benefit.