Hallifax made the Darktown from all those years ago seem like a haven, and that was a realization come unfortunately late.

On the edge of the Promised Land, farthest from the hallowed center, Hallifax was surrounded by dead things: dead trees, dead animals, dead land. Crops rarely grew, and those that did were sad imitations of what could be grown even in Darktown, the Brotherhood’s headquarters and where the Six resided. Compared to Luxton, where all was supposedly light and good, Hel thought that Hallifax might actually be a secret entrance to the netherworld.

But before she could make her way to Luxton, her ultimate destination, Hel had to do what was right and finish her business in the Dreadlands. From Darktown, the closest hub to the Gods’ Temple this side of the Promised Land, bordering the Great River and the Calmlands, to Hallifax, the Dreadlands seemed to cover cities from worse to worst. Given the rebellious whispers she’d overheard traveling as a healer, the people of the Dreadlands would leave if given the chance.

It wasn’t the land itself. The Dreadlands were just as much Promised Land as the Calmlands, but the Six and their Brotherhood had tainted them with blasphemy, reaping war and death against the Calmlands for supposed superiority. The gods demanded peace within the land they had saved for the last of humanity and the Six broke the covenant with every soldier they sent against the ‘enemy.’ Stories told that the people of the Calmlands fought back just as fervently, though, and Hel didn’t know or care what to make of it.

All she knew was that Hallifax was where she was needed. There was an ailing town elder there who might be pivotal in preventing total domination by the Six, even this far out, and Hel knew that she was the only one who could save him.

It was just one life out of many, and Hel was reticent to give one life value over another, but the fact stood that saving a dying farmer’s Powerless daughter was not as impactful as saving a dying man who could be a voice, if among many, that would take the Six from power and free the Dreadlands.

Her Power wasn’t limitless, and she had a maximum amount of people she could afford to save. She had to make sure they were the right ones. Sometimes that was hard to swallow, but that was why Mother insisted Hel wore her necklace. It sapped her own life out of her and saved it in the tiny emerald, but Mother had told her that someday, her very life would be required to save someone vital to restoring the gods’ peace. She wouldn’t tell Hel who, when, or where; the details, she had said, would muddle the path to that happy destiny. 

In the meantime, Hel wandered the Dreadlands, seeking out people to save through rumor, hearsay, and eavesdropping.

Even the road into town was decrepit, lacking pavement and instead filled with potholes and, on occasion, untouched roadkill. Not even the carrion eaters would touch the animals that survived in this wasteland. Hel didn’t blame them as she passed a particularly foul-smelling dead rabbit; Lyka actively crossed to the other side of the road and gave a huff of irritation.

“I know,” Hel said, collar brought up to cover her mouth and nose until they were upwind.

The arch welcoming her to Hallifax was old, crumbling stone and the steel letters that had once announced one’s entry into town were crooked and in places missing. Hel gave it a cursory glance and decided that if not for the Six, perhaps this place would be different. In the archway, in the chipped and crooked buildings she passed, in the faces of the hungry and dying, Hel could see signs of better days, of better lives.

Some would initially mistake her for an older child because of her height, especially in contrast with her dog, and a well-dressed one at that, so she made sure to find a suitable inn quickly. She could defend herself well enough, even without her Power or companion, but it was best to keep a low profile. However, even after she had secured a room and finished her meal, she left none of her personal affects there. In a place this poor, nothing was safe from anyone. She only asked for directions to the nearest temple of healing.

Keeping her head down and a hand resting on the hilt of her dagger, Hel headed out to assess the town further. The sooner she found the elder, the sooner she could perform her ‘miracle’ and be on her way.

“There’s nothing like Hallifax to make you wish you were home,” Hel muttered with amusement, a saying she had picked up a few towns over when inquiring about directions. Lyka gave a whuffle of agreement and shook out her fur as if to displace the filth that already seemed to be accumulating.

“We’ll be out of here soon enough.”

A commotion picked up a few hundred yards down Main Street, right in front of the Temple of Juuleine. A young woman was holding up a squalling child and begging an older man, whose dark green zucchetto made it clear he was the Healer-Priest of the temple. As he waved his hands, helplessly denying the mother aid, the mother grew ever more desperate and irate. Onlookers gathered at a distance, and soon several of the mother’s friends surrounded the Healer-Priest and began cajoling him as well.

Hel looked on at a distance until the Healer-Priest’s voice rose above the clamor. “There’s nothing I can do!” he cried, seeming equally as desperate as the mother. “There’s simply not enough to go around!”

Not enough?

“Then stop prioritizing those in power and give it to the people who need it!” cried the mother tearfully. “My baby is going to die if she doesn’t get that medicine!”

Several voices crowded each other, and finally, as Hel was upon the scene and about to ask the Healer-Priest her own question, he dropped his hands. “I can’t help you,” he said with finality and turned to walk back into the temple. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The mother wailed, reaching out for him, as the man closed the tall but rotting wooden door behind him. There was the slamming of a bar. Clearly, the Healer-Priest had had enough of his calling for the day.

Hel could not find it within her to go directly after the Healer-Priest even as the crowd dispersed and the distraught mother was escorted off with her now unnaturally quiet child by her allies in the debate. She watched the three friends support the woman as best she could, the fight seeming to have fled her in the wake of the Healer-Priest’s dismissal.

That child was going to die. Almost as if it was a phantom limb, she could feel the flame of the infant’s life flickering weakly against the encroaching darkness. If the child was strong, they would make it ‘til morning. If not…

“466.” The number of lives she had saved so far in her twenty-six years. It wasn’t so high of a number compared to how many people died each day in the Dreadlands, but she had still only saved those of utmost necessity.

And whose lives would impact the fate of the Promised Lands as a whole.

“One thousand and one,” she murmured to herself. One thousand to save with her Power, and one to save with her own life. After that, she would live as an ordinary mortal with only her natural Power. The gods-given gift would be gone, and if peace hadn’t come to the Promised Land, if the Calmlands and Dreadlands were not united by then, then… Then the Promised Land would be revoked, and the gods would let their mortal children fade away into the history of time.

It was no tragedy. The fact that humans had been given the Promised Land in the first place had been mercy for a sin only gods could forgive.

Even gods could only absolve so many of their wayward children’s deeds.

Hel stared after the mother and her child. It was just one child in Hallifax, in all of the Dreadlands, and she simply could not justify saving its life over someone who was already known to be a strong, proud voice against the Six.

The Healer-Priest would know who owned that strong, proud voice, however, and point her in the right direction. Steeling herself, Hel turned away from the mother and child to knock on the barred door of the temple.

The Healer-Priest let her in strictly on the basis of her unfamiliarity and calm demeanor. Once Hel was inside the temple, he slammed the barricade back into place with a show of temper that wasn’t visible on his face.

“You would prevent others from worship?” Hel asked mildly as he led her down the aisle of pews toward the back of the temple.

“There is only so much the Six provide,” the Healer-Priest said in rebuke. “We must save it for those who most need it. As cruel as it is to say, using ethenera—the very essence of Juuleine’s hallowed healing—on an infant with childpox is simply a waste when there are those who are feeding and serving the town to keep it running. Without those men and women, Hallifax would not exist for ethenerato be distributed at all. And right now, all that anyone wants is what we have in shortest supply. I am not ashamed to be left to pray in silence rather than tolerate the constant heckling.”

Hel could only nod, her own reasoning put before her and understanding the Healer-Priest’s dilemma. There was only so much that could be done with the Six in power and hoarding the wealth, so sometimes people simply died. It was why it was so important to dethrone them, but for now, this was just the way it was.

They reached the pulpit and the Healer-Priest turned to her, expression softer with her lack of judgement. “I am Healer-Priest Lewen. How can I assist you today, traveler?”

“I’m looking for a man,” Hel told him. “Last I heard, he was on his deathbed. I’ve come to help him as quickly as I could, but the roads are long in the Dreadlands.”

“There are many men on their deathbed these days,” Lewen told her. “Do you have a name, perchance?”

“He’s a town elder,” Hel said. “The reports vary on what he goes by, however. I don’t know his name.”

Lewen’s brow furrowed and his eyes shined keenly. “There is one whose name is obscured, but I must ask who you are that you seek to meet with him.”

“My name is obscure for the same reason,” Hel replied lowly. This was not something to be overheard by prying ears. “But perhaps you have heard of me. Some call me Envy, the Green-Eyed Woman.”

Hel pulled back her hood far enough to reveal eerily luminescent eyes, the same green as the fire lit within her pendant. They were not natural origin, and it was abundantly clear to anyone who looked at her that she was other, not quite human.

Lewen’s eyes widened in recognition. “Envy,” he said in awe. “And you’re here to heal him?”

“Yes,” she said. As far as she knew, this town elder was the entire reason for her detour to Hallifax instead of heading to Luxton as quickly as possible. The gods had been guiding her on this journey, feeding her information through an innate intuition that she only felt on occasion. It had been an impromptu trip to a tea house after a hot day of bludgeoning sun that had allowed her to hear about a rebel in Hallifax who was dying of an unidentifiable illness.

“It was thought that you were dead,” Lewen said. Hel didn’t particularly like his tone of voice. “I’ll take you right to him, of course, just this way.” Adjusting his zucchetto and robes, Lewen quickly led her behind the pulpit to the small living quarters hidden in the back of the temple. Hel followed quickly, but a sliver of unease flashed through her at the Healer-Priest’s bumbling speed.

“Be on guard,” she murmured under her breath, little more than a sigh, for Lyka’s ears only. The dog gave no sign of acknowledgement except for a flick of her left ear and a minute tensing in her form.

When Lewen led them out the back door into a garden, Hel was momentarily confused. When he revealed a concealed door that led directly underground, she tensed but still followed; it wasn’t unheard of for rebels to have hidden meeting places.

The corridor steadily descended and Hel felt the hair on the nape of her neck prickle. It could so easily be a trap, though with how visibly nervous Lewen was, it wasn’t a good one. If she kept following him, though, it would be sprung nonetheless.

She would trust the gods. They had sent her here to heal this man. Ignoring her unease and the little tingles that told her all was not right, she followed Lewen until the light grew dim and the corridor ended at another door.

“Wait here for a moment,” Lewen said, sweat beaded on his brow. The moment he had a handle on the door and was well out of range, the overhead lights went out.

A trap, then. Hel wasn’t going to question the gods’ guidance, but she wished that perhaps they might not be so vague next time.

Both of her daggers were in her hands a half-second later, but before even that, Lyka had leapt into motion. Hel felt the drag of displace air against her chest as the half-wolf leapt forward, and a gurgled cry and a crack told her that one assailant was down for the count.

There were footsteps, breathing. Bracing herself for the pain, Lyka ripped her pendant out from behind her shirt and green light filled the enclosed space, showing four attackers. All were men of above-average height, armed with broadswords or axes.

“I don’t know how you can see, but I sure as hell can’t,” Hel said to the room at large as the pain receded and the light faded. In the darkness, she took a shallow breath, heard the slightest whistle, and dropped to a crouch just as an axe from behind her swiped from behind. Five enemies, then, originally six.

These men were trained to fight in darkness, and from the sinuous, seemingly choreographed movements between them, clear only in how none of them had decapitated the other so far, Hel thought that at least one of them had Power affected by darkness. She listened hard and dodged their attacks for a few long moments, but ultimately decided that she would rather be able to see.

She fled.

The corridor lights did not turn back on, and she feared that the door would be locked behind them, only to be opened when she was dead. That would be a very, very long time from now. The men would starve before they could kill her.

Just as she wondered how far she was from the exit, she promptly was impaled on a broadsword. She hadn’t heard footsteps race past her, so someone had the Power to teleport, likely limited to darkness or shadow. The gods were not always fair in their blessings, but they had learned to be more moderate after the Six.

Hel couldn’t help it. “Oww.”

The man pulled his broadsword out of her. “Die, bitch.”

The wounds healed as quickly as the sword moved.

Just because she was healed, however, didn’t mean that it wasn’t horribly painful. Hissing at the slide of blade against flesh and still quivering in the adrenaline of the aftermath, Hel planted her feet and swiped the man cleanly across the abdomen.

Evisceration wasn’t her goal, however.

There was the deafening clang of a fallen sword and the man’s agonized cry as his hands fell to rest with his weapon on the ground. Hel quickly slipped around her enemy and prayed that he didn’t bleed out before his wounds were cauterized.

She felt a knife pierce her shoulder. Trying to breathe through the pain, she twisted, yanked it out, and sent it back at the man who’d thrown it. The lack of cry afterward told her that her blind throw hadn’t struck home and Hel was both completely unsurprised and also grateful, because she hadn’t been thinking.

Murder was the sin that most couldn’t come back from. There was only one worse, but Hel couldn’t bear thinking about it. Even in self-defense, the taking of a life was near unforgivable to the gods. As someone born to the gods for a purpose, it was unthinkable that she would ever kill someone. To this day, she had only maimed and injured.

Another thrown knife nicked her ankle and she tripped momentarily. Her feet tangled and she fell, and before she knew it, a sword was shoved through her ribcage and an axe all but severed her neck. It took everything in her not to scream at the agony of it, instead playing dead. If they bothered to look, they’d see that the wounds weren’t bleeding properly and that she was most certainly still breathing. The lights flickered on and Hel fell limp, holding her breath.

“Where’d the dog go?” one of the men asked, still panting.

“It’s a dog,” another replied as if the first was stupid. “It ran off.”

“We were supposed to get rid of both,” the first man said. His voice did make him sound kind of dumb.

“It doesn’t matter,” a third said with finality. “Let’s go get paid.”

“What about Ronny?”

“He’s already gotten himself to a healer, no problem. He’ll be fine.”

The footsteps trailed off while the first man still persisted. “Shouldn’t we at least bring the head…”

Hel was very glad that the one who sounded dumb but was actually the smartest of the three was overruled. A quick movement of her eyes showed that she had been only a few yards from escape and she quietly cursed. Once the door had opened and shut—it hadbeen locked after she entered with Father Lewen—she gingerly reached up to get the axe out of her neck. It was difficult, her shoulder muscles damaged from the cut, but she was able to maneuver it out. Reflexive tears of pain dripping down her face, Hel waited for the pain of the neck wound to fade before dislodging the sword.

Though fully healed, Hel couldn’t bring herself to move for another fifteen minutes. Somewhere in that time, Lyka trotted up with a half-chewed finger in her mouth.

“No, Lyka,” Hel told her tiredly. “We don’t eat hands. Drop it.” The dog whined but dropped the bloody finger. “Where did you go, anyways? You were right beside me, and then—gone.”

Lyka looked at Hel with those soulful and otherworldly white eyes and her expression gave the impression of what a dog would look like if it could shrug. Hel knew that Lyka was more than just a half-wolf, half-dog; she was something like Hel herself, something other. What that was remained to be seen, but as long as it was keeping her companion alive, Hel wasn’t going to ask.

After another few long minutes, Hel forced herself to her feet, stretching and groaning along the way. She wearily wondered why her usual daring escapes had to involve playing dead, often encouraged along by appearing mortally injured to her assailants. It was the gods’ gift, but Hel wished that it didn’t have to be so painful.

It certainly explained why Healer-Priest Lewen had thought she was dead and had sounded disappointed by its falsity.

Hel crept out of the corridor, the door to the back of the temple creaking quietly as she opened it. “All this, on Juuleine’s hallowed grounds, at that,” she muttered to herself. She knew it was partially ignorance, but it also showed just how bad things were in some parts of the Dreadlands. That a priest—a Healer-Priest, too!—would enable the murder of a young woman on the grounds of a temple to the goddess of healing… It was just baffling.

Healer-Priest Lewen was certainly not going to be accepted into heaven, his Vows damned all the more for having been broken.

Hel allowed Lyka to lead her from the temple grounds without being discovered. It was dark by now, the sun falling earlier and earlier as autumn turned to winter. It was cold, too, and Hel made sure to pull her hood back up and her cloak more tightly around her body.

Hallifax had been a waste, apparently, unless there was to be some kind of lesson learned from this encounter. Hel could find none; it had been so short and lacking plot that there was nothing to dissect. She had come to this town to heal a town elder, and to do that she had approached the temple of Juuleine. That had been a lie, however, and the town elder had probably passed away before she could arrive. What was she missing? The gods wouldn’t send her here for nothing.

The child.

Hel went cold. The infant had been the point of her journey all along, and now she had no idea where mother and child could be found. She could give a basic description to the other villagers, but it was dark and most of the townspeople would be headed to their homes if not already there.

The child didn’t have more than the night to survive.

First things first: they had to return to the last place the mother had been seen.

Once they were the small square where the commotion earlier had taken place, Hel turned to her companion. “Lyka,” she said lowly. “Can you find them?”

The dog looked at their surroundings uncertainly, then brought her nose to the ground. After far too long, Lyka looked up and gave the same dog’s equivalent of a shrug before turning to follow whatever trail she’d caught.

“It’s better than nothing,” Hel said with a sigh.

They disturbed several families before stumbling upon the mother wholly by accident, who sat crying on the porch of a rundown, one-room hovel. In the darkness their features were shadowed, but the weak porchlight gave Hel enough of a look to recognize them.

Hel couldn’t find a way to approach politely before the mother noticed her, so when the woman looked up, Hel appeared to a reaching out like a beggar. Quickly wiping her eyes, the woman turned a cool stare on her. “We don’t have any food to spare, and our only child is dying of the childpox. Don’t come here expecting things for free.”

It was hard not to be taken aback by the woman’s hard tone, but after surrendering herself to the death of her firstborn, Hel could see a lack of sympathy for anyone else’s suffering.

“Can I see him?” she asked, unable to remember which sex the mother had named.

The mother’s eyes narrowed. “Who, Karl?”

“Your child,” Hel clarified, ignoring her brief flush of embarrassment.

“Shae,” the mother said wetly. She was too upset to be offended. “She’s got childpox. There’s nothing you can do for her.”

When Hel lifted up her hood to reveal her identity this time, the mother was nothing short of ecstatic. “Envy? …The Green-Eyed Woman? You’re here to heal Shae?” A choked sob cut her off momentarily. “M-my baby? She’s going to live?”

“Quietly,” Hel warned. “There are those who would see me dead.”

Muffling her renewed tears with a hand, the mother quickly opened the door their home and rushed to the crib in the center of the room. At the racket the woman made and the child’s weak cries from being disturbed, the man Hel assumed was the husband and father rushed in.

“Is everything…”

“The Green-Eyed Woman is here,” the mother exclaimed tearfully, voice hushed. “She’s going to heal our Shae!”

“Here, put her back in the crib,” Hel ordered. “I’m going to have to ask you to stand back now. I need some room for this.” She didn’t; she just didn’t like being crowded.

The parents did as requested of them, giving her plenty of space. All was silent as mother and father held their breaths in anticipation of their child’s good health.

Hel had to wonder, as she stared down at the sickly infant, whose pudgy little fingers and toes were tinged blue and her breathing staggered and wet, what this Shae was going to do with her life that the gods would have her saved so early on. It must be something truly spectacular, she thought, and as green light coated her hands and life energy in its truest form flowed into the infant, Hel hoped she would see it herself.

Healthy color returned and soon the child was crying as loudly as in front of the temple, but this time, it was for food. Hel could only smile as the mother held the child to her swollen breast.

“Thank you, Envy,” Karl told her, holding out his hand. “We are eternally grateful.”

Hel took it. “The gods have blessed her this day,” she said. “Make sure she knows it and follows the covenants. She’s meant to help this world.”

Normally Hel would not have to instruct as much; normally, her patients knew exactly why they were being healed by the Green-Eyed Woman. This young couple, however, needed to be informed so that this Shae would not stray from her path before it had begun.

“Praise Juuleine,” Karl said and fell to his knees in prayer. “Praise Juuleine.”

Hel took in the room: the happy mother, the weeping father, and the contented child who would now live a long, healthy life. It was exactly as the gods would have it.

She excused herself before attention could be turned in her direction and met up with Lyka outside the house once more. “Wasted money on an inn,” she muttered. “No soft bed tonight.”

By now the men would have discovered her body was gone if they had been required to give proof to whoever wanted her dead, and someone who wanted her dead would know that proof was required. A hunt would start soon if it hadn’t already, and they had to make post-haste out of Hallifax.

Sticking to the shadows, woman and dog crept out of town and quickly ventured north.

“Finally, a soft bed… in a week or two, perhaps.” Lyka whined. “I know. Sometimes it’d be nice to just be able to sleep for a whole night through.”

Leaving Hallifax behind at a steady gait, Hel headed to her true destination twenty-six years in the making: the hallowed streets of Luxton, the City of Light.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two