Dawn over Ironpeak was a jagged, uncomfortable thing. It brought no warmth, only light to the scorched ruin Koa had left behind. The ridge smelled of ozone and burnt pine, a bitter reminder of their sister's lack of restraint.
Lokee knelt in the blackened dirt. Her hands glowed with a soft, pulsing blue light as she worked over a mountain fox. The creature's fur was singed and its breathing was ragged, but beneath her palms, the water Yan slowly forced the searing heat from its lungs.
Nearby, Hykee handled the heavy work. He moved like a bandaged golem, his earth-reinforced boots coming down with the weight of a falling mountain. Every step sent a violent vibration through the ridge.
"Hurry it up," Kaola called from above.
She hovered just past the treeline, her wind Yan keeping her steady in the biting air.
"The trail is getting louder. I passed a settlement at the base of the ridge. The locals are already talking about a kid with black and white hair. They're calling him the Bastard of Kalamity."
"They think he killed his father and the rest of the family. He's barely masking his Yen. The crops are dying where he steps and the livestock are dropping dead. He's poisoning everything in his path, and we're losing time."
Hykee let out a sharp, jagged laugh. He didn't look up as he slammed his foot down on a flare of fire. The impact reopened a stitch on his thigh, but he didn't flinch. He just watched the fresh blood bloom through his white bandages with a grin of reckless eagerness.
"The Bastard of Kalamity!" he barked, wiping soot from his chin. "It's funny they say things like that without knowing the other bastards are still alive too. They actually think Kota killed Father."
He grinned wider. "I'm just glad I have something to kill. I can't wait to see if the kid actually fights back this time. I need something that hits hard."
Lokee stood as the fox scurried into the brush. She looked at her brother's blood-stained bandages, then up at Kaola. Her voice was quiet, but it carried weight.
"We're hunting our own blood, Kaola. Is this what Mother wanted? To spend our lives as cleanup crews and executioners? If we corner him, are we saving the land… or just handing Koma the kill he wants so he can fix his mistakes?"
Kaola's eyes narrowed. Her jaw tightened.
"What mistakes, Lokee?" she said coldly. "The mistake of killing Father?"
A flicker of memory passed through Kaola's mind. She remembered standing in the training courtyard at seven years old, fingers bleeding from the bowstring. She had refused to eat or rest until every arrow struck the dead center of the target.
Her mother had tried to call her inside, but Kaola hadn't moved. To her, even a single inch of deviation wasn't just a mistake. It was an insult to her existence.
She shook the memory off and looked down at Lokee with clear annoyance.
"Either you heal the animals and the townspeople and then follow us, or don't. I really don't care," Kaola said.
"The drawback of being perfect is that I don't have room for your hesitation. We were told to find Kota and bring him back. That's what we do."
"If your conscience is suddenly too heavy, follow Koa's trail and go home. I don't care. But as long as you're on this ridge, you move. Perfectly."
She paused, then added flatly, "And Hykee, you won't be laying a hand on Kota. That isn't your job."
Hykee just laughed again and punched his open palm, feeling the bandages tighten against his bruised knuckles. To him, the reason for the hunt didn't matter. He just wanted the collision.
Lokee didn't flinch, but the doubt in her eyes didn't fade. She looked south toward the purple haze of the Yen sickness beginning to choke the valley below.
She knew the mission.
But for the first time, she wasn't sure if the mission was right.