Night had always been coldest on the last days of winter in the slums, cold enough to seep into bones and for steamy breath to match chimneys. But it was another kind of chill that made Els' arm tremble against her chest. Endless factory silhouettes bled into the night, their shadows devouring the lamplight until only a trembling glow remained.
Today again, the same wet footsteps on snow behind her. The sensation of having her back seared by the scrutiny of predators. It all started after last week's harvest festival, when her father...
She closed her eyes to stop a tear. Everything became so messed up since then.
Survival over mercy—her father's teaching. Endure today's pain for a better tomorrow. Nessa's words joined her father's.
She endured, endured, and endured again. But fear became the only constant she felt when she woke up, and what kept her crying to sleep. She couldn't leave like this anymore.
Her hands slid beneath the rag covering her basket. She gripped something firm and cold against her palm. Something she had never carried before. Something she never wanted to use.
Yet, she approached her limits. Tonight. If they tried again tonight, she'd teach them she was no prey. Kael's face flashed in her mind. "Like you did. I hope you're safe..."
A stench of ale and tobacco closed in with the steps. She tensed.
"Look what I found." A broad hand clutched her shoulder, his voice amused.
Els didn't think. She acted. Instinctively, like a beast pinned against a wall. She swung as she turned. The thin blade of her father's razor sliced a bloody line across the man's muscular forearm.
He covered the wound with a yelp, his colleague's eyes widening.
It was her eyes that widened most on the blood pattering down the razor's blade. What had she done? No, it was right. But she still stuttered, her weapon trembling in front of the two men. "I-I'm not letting you harass me to death! S-Step back. This is my last warning!"
For a moment, one fragile moment, the colleague actually stepped back.
Then the wounded thug's lips pursed. "Shut up, bitch!"
Els barely saw him remove his hand from his forearm before it blurred to her right cheek. Knuckles dug into the layer of soot smearing her skin. Her nose crunched, blood bursting from the twisted bridge, and two teeth flew out in a scarlet spray.
Factories, light, darkness—everything distorted into patterns that spun incomprehensibly. She dropped to her knees, pain clawing at her mind enough for the razor to slip from her fingers.
But the thug wasn't done. Snarling, he dragged her by her auburn hair toward an alley. "Show me how tough you are now. Keep guard, Yannick."
The other thug blocked off the alley, while the first pressed Els' face between two pipes against the wall. Red smeared stones darkened by steam, and her own tears wet her green dress. "S... stop."
She tried to speak through the agonising haze of her mind, but only managed a broken word.
Something clicked, a belt undone, then fabric cracked. The fabric of the back of her dress. Cold wind brushed her legs.
Horror swallowed her pain.
"No! Please, I beg you!" She struggled to free herself.
The thug paused to grab her arm with his free hand.
SNAP
The only answer she got came with the sound of broken bones. She screamed.
And the thug's laugh buried them. "How did you feel when you attacked me? Strong? Defiant as you were when you refused to pay what you owed? We followed the rules. We gave you time. But now, you owe me. And I always get what's mine. In one form or another."
The sound of pants dropping to the ground echoed louder than a factory explosion. Els cried out, but the thug's hand gagged her mouth. And he began to approach, slowly, like a torturer playing with a broken toy.
He would defile her any second now. No! She didn't want to. But what could she do? She touched the bloody gaps of her missing teeth with her tongue. Then she began to bite down with those that remained.
She was trapped with no hope. Death was better than whatever they'd turn her into...
Trapped with no hope. The words echoed in her mind with Kael's heavy voice. "If you're ever trapped with no hope, you must know who you are—know the truth you believe."
Would it make the thugs vanish... Unlikely. Still, she had nothing else to cling to but the voice of her last friend.
So, she howled with her soul. I'm Els, daughter of Arthur and Cyan. Survival over mercy is what I believe in!
The shadows on the walls writhed. Then, they stilled. Nothing happened. And now the thug's warm skin almost touched hers. If her arm wasn't broken, if her legs didn't struggle to stand, she could try something...
For a moment, she saw herself walking on the main avenue of the industrial district. Now it was too late.
"Light is temporary, but darkness remembers..." She sobbed the words she used to pray to whatever god they were destined to.
And this time, the world answered. Shadows slithered into her face. They bound themselves into the memory of this night, spreading into a dark anchor pulsing with a single recorded moment: her, unwounded, walking on the avenue.
Shadows covered her, neither warm nor cold, just familiar like an old friend. What was happening to her? Somehow, it didn't scare her. A heartbeat later, they dissolved.
Flesh touched her from behind, but the thug grumbled when fabric blocked it. "Huh? I swear on Theda's spear that I tore her dress..."
If he was confused, Els couldn't understand this new sensation... the absence of pain, her clear mind, and the strength in her legs.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed at her broken arm. It moved. Blood didn't drip from her now straight nose, and the missing teeth were back. Healed? She would have felt bones snap in place and teeth regrow. Something else. No time to think; the thug gripped her dress again.
Without hesitation, she reached behind, beneath the flesh that would have defiled her, and clasped her fingers around his balls so tight that they whitened.
"ARGH!" The thug's face instantly reddened. Veins pulsed on his neck and forehead as he tried to wrench her hands away.
Yet, Els was a step faster. She let go, leaving him to grip his own balls and drop to the ground.
"What happened?!" Yannick rushed from the entrance of the alley, only to see his colleague squirm on the ground. "Brann!"
"Don't come closer!" Els cut Yannick's path, planting her foot on Brann's head. She kicked his nose, the pain of having her own broken as fresh as if he had just done it. "Disgusting spawns of the deepest ring of the Quiet Hand's realm. I'd rather die than let you have your way!"
"Kill that bitch," Brann melded his command to his screams, and Yannick pulled a dagger from the holster beneath his brown coat.
"I'm not a bitch. I'm Els!" She kicked Brann's nose again. His body went limp, blood smearing her patched shoes.
"I'll fucking kill you!" Yannick lunged, dagger aimed at her heart.
The blade reflected Els' terrified grimace. Avoiding trouble had always been her motto. Fighting was for fools. Therefore, at the moment before her death, she froze.
Yet, another voice sliced through the alley.
"Girl, scream. Tonio hear." It sounded like the squeaks of a rat speaking broken human words.
Els' eyes drifted past Yannick to a tall man wearing a long cloak. A holed shirt covered in sludge masked half his face. A face she somehow couldn't make out. Hairy, almost inhuman, with eyes of fiery red. That's all she thought as she stepped back—just enough to dodge Yannick's dagger unconsciously.
"Fuck off if you don't want to be next!" Yannick prepared to strike again.
Before he could, a teenager moved from behind the man. His blue eyes scanned the unconscious Brann, the alley, and Yannick. Then they fell on Els.
"Kael?" Els's hands reached for her chest as she let out a long, relieved sigh. He was safe. He had returned for her.
Kael didn't give her time to warn him. Jaw clenched until his teeth hurt, he charged Yannick. "You son of a bitch!"
Yannick's dagger flashed in front of Kael's eyes. But he wasn't Els. He had survived worse, much worse.
He ducked beneath the cold swing, his hands wrapping the back of the thug's knee. With a grunt, he wrenched it up, and Yannick crashed on his back.
Instantly, he stomped on the thug's wrist, tearing a pained wail from his lips. More importantly, the dagger clanged on the ground.
Picking it up, he leaned over the thug, the blade at his neck. "Why did you attack Els?" Not a question. A command.
"I-I... She owes Garrick money. We followed her to remind her of that, but the bitch—the girl attacked us. I swear on Theda's sacred name that we only defended ourselves."
Kael's eyes darted to the belt and the green patch of fabric beside the wall. Els' dress. And she mattered much more after he saw Tonio's family's true brotherhood in the sewers.
Other options didn't even flash in his mind. He simply ran the blade across Yannick's throat.
The man's hands shot up to cover the wound. Blood sprayed between his fingers, his eyes begging the mercy of someone who had decided he didn't deserve it. The wet gurgles lasted for a moment before Yannick's hands stilled.
"Tonio, help." Tonio began to move toward Brann, but Kael was faster.
He slit Brann's neck, ending the unconscious bastard. Then, he sighed at Tonio as he planted the dagger on the ground. "Your nails leave obvious marks. We don't need to give Garrick clues about our whereabouts. Can you... Give me a moment."
While he approached Els, Tonio mumbled. "Girl, friend?"
"Yeah. She's my friend," Kael's lips curled into a gentle smile, and Els returned it before falling into his arms.