“The Green-Eyed Woman was recently seen in Hallifax,” Maegis Prostos said from where he knelt at the foot of the dais.

“And what was her purpose there?”

“According to Lewen, she was there to save the life of Eulius Gren. Fortunately, he died before her arrival. She was killed by Brotherhood assassins, or so they claim.”

The First frowned minutely, little more than a downward quirk of his lips. “So they claim. Did they recover the body?”

Prostos bowed his head to avoid the First’s piercing eyes. “No, they did not.”

“Then the Green-Eyed Woman is not dead.” The First leaned back in his throne at the center of the dais, the other five seats empty of their occupants. It was more intimidating to have a singular audience with the First than it was to present himself in front of all Six, Prostos thought as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

“They claim that they decapitated her and stabbed her through the chest,” Prostos insisted quietly. “No person can survive such wounds.”

“Yet she is nonetheless continually seen elsewhere after similar grievous injuries.”

“Her companion, the beast, was not killed,” Prostos said. “It’s possible that it dragged her body to somewhere else.”

The First’s eyes narrowed and he seemed to contemplate this. Prostos swallowed with difficulty. The Green-Eyed Woman had been a thorn in their side for the last decade, almost always mortally injured for one reason or another and then found wandering in other cities, whole and alive. There was no rhyme or reason to how she traveled or what her purpose was, but the Six were unnerved enough by her consistent survival to want her dead. Anyone they could not eliminate at will was an enemy.

“I want her hunted,” the First said eventually. “We will no longer wait for her to reappear. She will be captured and brought to trial—alive.”

“Thy will be done,” Prostos said, touching his head to the floor.

“Quickly,” the First said. “Dismissed.”

The Maegis stood, genuflected, and hurried out of the throne room to give out the orders. Given every attempt to assassinate the Green-Eyed Woman and every following failure, perhaps the First was correct in wanting her alive.

“No,” Prostos murmured under his breath. “The First is always right.” And he whispered a quick prayer, begging for forgiveness. Questioning the Six, especially the First, was outright blasphemy, even in privacy. Blasphemy was punishable by death.

Prostos repeated the prayer several times more before he reached his destination.

***

“It would be nice if you could save more meat for me,” Hel grumbled as she sat in front of the campfire, chewing on a hindquarter.

Lyka ignored her, gnawing away at the ribcage of the unfortunate deer she had brought down. Hel was useless at hunting and therefore the half-wolf was usually the one to fetch their meals. Occasionally Hel would get lucky and trap a rabbit, but that was hardly enough to feed herself, much less her companion. It was enough that she could skin and gut her own dinner before Lyka filled herself on the rest.

They had been traveling due north the Maxus Road for nearly and month and a half now. The Maxus was the highway that connected all the major cities in the Dreadlands and took a fairly winding route through the country. They only passed through the cities at night, and right now, Hel found herself waiting outside the farthest edges of Darktown. She hadn’t been back since she had left the orphanage.

From the view she had by the setting sun, Darktown didn’t seem to have changed much. Some buildings were taller than they had once been, and it had expanded outwards since she had left, but much of it was still the same. The Tower at the heart of the city, the Brotherhood’s main hub and where the Six resided, was the only thing that was changed: it seemed to have grown in splendor, tall spires reaching into the sky, gleaming opalescent; the stained glass and steel it was built from showered a display of colorful light even at this distance; and the highest point where the Six were represented in silver and gold statues seemed to have been added upon, though the details were lost this far away. The center and largest of the statues, and made with obsidian instead of precious metals, was the dreaded First.

“I wish we could visit Mother,” Hel said to no one. It had been twelve years since she had last seen her. It was possible she wasn’t even alive. Still, Mother had been a great source of comfort when Hel had been hiding from the Brotherhood before she was of age and the nostalgia for the only place she had ever considered home was nearly overwhelming.

Once the sun had fully set, Hel gestured for Lyka to leave what deer hadn’t been already consumed and then buried what remained of their presence. The patrols had been shifted since she was last here, hindering her movements; even when she had lived there in her childhood, shifts changed order and times every six months or so to keep the people aware and compliant.

The Maxus was the only way in and out of the city, and it was also the road that would take her to the Gods’ Temple. From there, she would pass into the Calmlands and seek out her destiny in Luxton.

The problem was the wanted posters she had started seeing once she was a good thousand or so miles north of Hallifax. They had started appearing with regularity in the couple of weeks, and it had precipitated her traveling through the cities under the cover of darkness. She had to take perilous backroads through more populated areas around the Maxus and avoid interaction with anyone; it prevented her from saving any important lives on her way, but she simply couldn’t risk it.

The posters wanted her alive on order of the Six. That was something Mother had implied to her when she had first arrived at the orphanage—one day, the Six would take notice of her and it was imperative that she was never at their dubious mercy.

It was only after night settled over Darktown that Hel began her cautious approach into the city. Keen eyes followed the flickering streetlamps and following shadows. As soon as she was within reach of the nearest suburb, she took to the west and went down a less obvious path.

It was helpful that no one would expect her to show up in the place she was most wanted, but Hel still kept her hood and cloak pulled tightly around her. Her soft hide boots masked her footsteps and regulated breathing kept her concealed. Ahead of her, Lyka led the way with her superior sight and smell, guiding her through the neighborhoods and districts where she would go undetected. In the darkness, they were invisible.

The roads were winding and long, and every moment spent in the depths of Darktown had Hel’s heartrate increasing. There were wanted posters on every street corner, every Six-subsidized building and light pole. When there was the whisper of movement and voices across the street, both human and animal melted back into the shadows of an alleyway.

“Said there’s been sightin’s on the road,” a woman was saying as they patrolled the street, the dark gray half-cape covering her shoulders and upper back telling her station as a Brotherhood soldier. “Girl’s comin’ this way.”

“They say she’s immortal,” the woman’s companion said, a deceptively slim man. Their third partner was silent, short-cropped blond head tilted downward in denial of participation in the conversation.

“Whaddaya say, Hax? You think she’s comin’?”

Hel stiffened.

Hax was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I think none of us could catch her if she was.”

“Oho,” the man cried. “Tha’ sounds a whole hell of a lot like blasphemy, Haxie!”

“It’s not,” Hax said. “It’s not against the Six; it’s against us.”

“You and yer words,” the woman muttered. “Gonna get you killed someday, Haxie.”

“I told you to stop calling me…” The trio passed out from under the light pole and their voices faded away as they went further down the street.

“Hax,” Hel said to herself, heart heavy in her chest. He had been recruited, but it seemed he hadn’t forgotten her—or perhaps he was just aware of his capabilities.

No,she thought, heart clenching. He definitely remembers.

As if feeling a similar pain in her chest, Lyka let out a quiet whimper. The thought that sweet Hax, who had done his best to protect her and the other children all those years ago, was now a soldier of the Brotherhood but still hadn’t forgotten his time at Mother’s, was a humbling thought. If not for her divine purpose, Hel wasn’t sure she would be so strong.

After the brief moment to honor Hax’s sacrifice, Hel and Lyka quickly proceeded down the street. Lyka took point again and they made sure to leave that neighborhood as quickly as possible. They had another eleven hours to clear the city before the sun would come up and they were vulnerable. On the Maxus, it would take less than four hours on foot. This way, it could be up to eight, not counting detours to avoid unexpected patrols.

It seemed time passed in a vacuum, streets eventually melding into one another and each back alley and evasion ticking down a clock that was moving faster than it should. If they could keep the cover of night, perhaps they would be able to make it past the Gods’ Temple and into the Calmlands, out of the reach of the Six.

Fortunately, they made it to the edge of town without incident. From the position of the moon, it was only a little past midnight and there would be plenty of time to put distance between herself and the Six. This was the riskiest part of the journey, however. They would have to return to the Maxus and slip past the strongly-guarded exit out of the Dreadlands.

Keeping to the side of the road instead announcing their presence, Lyka guided them past the strongest scents without much excess travel. It was only when they reached the garrison blocking the road north that Hel realized their mistake.

“Damn,” she whispered, crouched around the corner of a building that allowed some cover from the patrolling soldiers. She would have to pray for guidance. This wasn’t a daring escape that she could fake death for; this close to the Six, being captured alive was much riskier than if she were as far south as Hallifax. She didn’t expect them to be as naïve as the assassins in Hallifax, either. She had a name for herself, a modus operandi, and a target on her back.

“Go look for another way out,” Hel said. “Meet me back here as soon as you find one.”

The half-wolf hesitated. Hel nodded encouragingly and after a quiet snuffle of protest, Lyka padded out from behind the building to begin the search.

In the meantime, Hel would look for a pattern that might show them the easier way out.

She did find one: there was a five-minute lapse between each patrol, as if tempting someone to try to sneak past, only to be ambushed as soon as they were close enough. Five minutes was not enough time to get past the gate, especially not if someone was on watch for an approach. It seemed to be an unavoidable trap, and Hel couldn’t rely on Lyka to defend her.

Turning back wasn’t an option either. Luxton was the only place for her now, not only her destiny but a place she could actually do some good. Everyone was on the hunt for her here and she couldn’t fulfill her purpose.

When Lyka finally returned, it was a doleful look that fulfilled Hel’s fears: there wasn’t another way out of the city. “Brute force?” Hel asked her rhetorically. “You’re an animal…” Lyka could kill without incurring the gods’ wrath. “…but I don’t want to risk you getting injured.”

In response, the dog stepped forward aggressively. Hel raised her hands in surrender. “I know, I’m not your mother,” she said in a hushed, reassuring voice. “But I care about you, and if you get hurt, you know I won’t leave you behind.”

Lyka growled low and disapproving in her chest.

Careful to stay quiet, Hel snorted and said, “Yeah, like you could make me do otherwise. Anyway, let’s not fight right now. There has to be some kind of distraction we can use to turn their heads away long enough for us to get out.”

The distraction was crucial, however, and Hel wasn’t willing to go in blind. She and Lyka retreated a few streets away from the gate for safety, finding a small, private alcove where the moon was visible. She knelt solemnly before clasping her hands together and tilting them gently downwards.

Hallah,she whispered in the Old Tongue. Guide me. Show the way. May the moon light my path.

She centered herself with her breath, drinking in the cool night air, seemingly cleaner just from its proximity to the Gods’ Temple. After sinking into a blank, calm pool of darkness in her mind, she sat back on her raised heels, toes curled to the ground, and turned her face up to let the light illuminate the space behind her eyelids.

Trusting the god of the Moon, Stars, and Night, she sat there for a time interminable. Lyka’s soft puffs of breath were the only sound in the alley in these small hours of morning.

Finally, Hel’s breath escaped her in a huff and pulled her numb legs out from under herself, shifting into a sitting position and flexing her toes to bring back feeling. She felt the turmoil that had plagued her all throughout Darktown melt away and a smile lit her face.

“Let’s go. We have a way out,” she announced with a grateful grin. “The gods are with us.”

Hel knew exactly what it was because she had seen it happen countless times in the past, particularly when she lived in Darktown. The sky was eclipsed by rolling thunderclouds that rumbled ominously, a storm from either the Gold Sea or the Titanis Mountains in this case. They had often seemed to come from nowhere, and Mother had always heavily implied that it was because the gods were displeased by the Six, sending terrible storms upon their tower and Darktown in consequence. It could happen anywhere in the Dreadlands where crimes against the Promised Land were committed, but nowhere were they as consistent as here.

That was exactly what this was, though it was nice that it would happen at present. Hel wasn’t so arrogant as to believe that the gods would send this storm simply to aid her; she might be their Child, but she had to find her own way to accomplish the task that had been assigned her. Besides, to take advantage of the storm meant endangering herself to some extent—these storms weren’t known for their pleasance.

She and Lyka went back the way they had come and the cool, damp wind that gusted through the streets with impressive force battered both of them. Lyka was strong enough to withstand the worst of it, and Hel was certain that she could last until they got to shelter outside the city, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t miserable in the meantime.

By the time they had returned to their previous location, the soldiers had taken notice of the incoming storm and were preparing to batten down the hatches. They would remain in the guardhouses on either side of the gate, but it would be unheard of for someone to brave this storm, even if it was to leave the Dreadlands. Not many tried to in the first place; the Dreadlands were far from perfect, but this was home and it wasn’t as though the Calmlands would be receptive to refugees from the enemy.

That didn’t mean the Six were going to take any chances, however. As the days turned darker and further away from the gods, desperation was growing. Some did still chance it. The punishment was death, as was the way of the Six, their Brotherhood, and the Dreadlands as a whole.

The soldiers were all safely in the guardhouses by the time the first fat drop of rain fell. They landed like hail on the ground, wet and liquid but with the force of a stone thrown from the heavens. There was a moment where it was a light sprinkling, like little pebbles showered down, and Hel immediately ran out into the street, Lyka on her heels as they shot to the gate. 

Like the force of a waterfall, the sky opened up. Within the first minute, Hel knew that no human could have withstood this for the time she already had. The pain was staggering, but the bruises healed before they could form and all she felt was a numbing drumming on her skin that stung like wasp stings with every touch.

As she neared the gate, she could see shadows in the windows of the guardhouse moving frantically. It was almost certain they knew she couldn’t be killed and so it would only be the Green-Eyed Woman to make a desperate run for the gates now. While solid, tall, and wooden, Hel wasn’t concerned about getting them open. Perhaps a normal human ramming themselves directly at such a solid object would injure themselves irreparably, it was not impossible for even someone of her stature to build up enough momentum and adrenaline to push through.

She knew; she had done a similar daring escape a couple years ago in Madja. It would have permanently crippled anyone else, but she had gotten off unscathed.

Pushing her legs as hard as they could go, pumping her arms for more speed, Hel charged the gate. The soldiers, perhaps not believing that this was possible and that she was an idiot—which she didn’t deny, looking at it from their perspectives—had decided not to do anything. That was good. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to build up this kind of momentum again if this attempt failed.

A few leaping strides and Hel was where she needed to be. Propelling her body forward, she catapulted herself feet-first directly at the crack between the doors just above the barricade barring the way. She felt Lyka push off against her back with her own considerable mass and, like a needle through thread, they punched through the wood just enough to get themselves out and nothing else.

The Brotherhood’s shock was such that Hel could hear it even over the pounding rain. Even though she had briefly crushed every bone in her legs upon impact, she landed in a roll that was an outstanding finish, even on a good day.

However, there wasn’t time to catch her breath or give her body a moment to recalibrate. She could only pop back up on her sore, overworked legs and keep charging through the pounding rain. Lyka didn’t have her Powers and a quick glance at her companion confirmed that the half-wolf didn’t have much left in her.

Unable to appreciate the view of the Calmlands she knew she should be seeing now, Hel rushed for the shelter of the Gods’ Temple.