004 My First Murder

  This was my first murder, yet I found myself chillingly calm.

  I stood over the lifeless body of the Terran, the dagger still gripped tightly in my hand. The air smelled of blood and burning wood, the distant screams of the elven vilge lingering like an echo in my mind. I looked down at my hand. It was trembling. My brows furrowed.

  That hand belonged to Non. The human version of me. The one who had lived on Earth, who had been decapitated on Commonwealth Avenue, who had never taken a life.

  I clenched my fingers into a fist and inhaled deeply. The trembling slowed. I had killed a man. And yet, the weight I had expected, the crushing remorse or overwhelming panic, never came. Instead, I found myself reconciling with my conscience rather quickly.

  “Serves you right,” I said as I kicked the dead in the side. “Yeah, justice prevails… Sheesh… I don’t know what I am talking about.”

  Suddenly, something inside me shifted. For just a moment, I wasn’t myself. The world blurred, and when I blinked…

  I was stabbing him.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  That wasn’t me.

  It was all Leaf’s.

  The bde sank into the corpse’s face, over and over, flesh splitting, bone cracking. The Terran had been dead for minutes, yet I kept going. I blinked once more, and my mind snapped back into pce.

  It was like a cutscene in a game.

  I staggered back, panting. My arms were soaked in blood. The Terran’s face had become an unrecognizable mess of torn skin, caved-in bone, and pulped meat. My dagger was ruined, its chipped edge useless now.

  I swallowed hard and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Calm down, Leaf,” I muttered aloud. My voice was hoarse, shaking, but firm.

  I wasn’t sure if Leaf could hear me or if he had even truly surfaced. But something inside me had lost control. And I needed to keep it in check.

  Shoving those thoughts aside, I turned my focus to the dead man before me. He was Terran, that was what they were called. A human. His armor was a crude mix of boiled leather and dented metal ptes, stained with sweat and old blood. His face, at least what remained of it, had been tanned by years under the sun. His hair, a matted mess of dark strands, was clumped with filth.

  I crouched down and began to loot him, working swiftly and efficiently.

  His belt held a small pouch of coins, both copper and silver. Their markings were unfamiliar. I pocketed them. A rough, jagged-edged sword y nearby, notched from countless battles. It was heavy, unbanced, but still functional. I kept it.

  Inside his satchel, I found a half-eaten loaf of bread, a fsk of some sour-smelling alcohol, and a crude map marked with strange symbols. More importantly, I found a whetstone and a small, sharp knife, much better than the ruined dagger.

  I took everything useful and stood, exhaling slowly. My heart had steadied.

  This was my first murder.

  It would not be my st.

  The raiders had vanished.

  The vilge y in ruin, the air thick with the stench of blood, burnt wood, and despair. Fmes crackled around me, devouring what little remained of the elves' homes. The screams had faded, repced by the eerie silence of the dead and the dying.

  I should have been chasing after them. I should have been running into the night, hunting them down, sughtering every st one of them to get Mindy back.

  Mindy, my daughter. No. Leaf’s daughter.

  But I was Leaf. I had become Leaf. And so, she was my daughter all the same.

  Yet, I hesitated. I turned my back on the raiders' fading tracks and instead sprinted toward the well.

  The fire needed to be stopped.

  If the fmes spread beyond the vilge, the forest would be next. If the forest burned, everything would be lost. The animals, the trees, and the nd the elves had lived on for centuries would be destroyed. Leaf’s memories surfaced, recalling the time the hunters worked to smother a fire started by lightning striking dry wood. They had saved the forest then, and I would do the same now.

  I grabbed the wooden bucket tied to the well and sent it plunging into the dark abyss. The spsh echoed back as I hauled it up, the rope straining. Water sloshed over the edges as I sprinted to the nearest fme and doused it. The fire hissed and spat angrily as the embers died.

  Again.

  And again.

  Back and forth from the well, I ran. Over and over, I threw water onto the fmes, forcing them back, choking the life out of them.

  By the time the st of the embers smoldered into smoke, I stood amid the wreckage, watching the dying glow fade into darkness.

  I should have been exhausted. I should have been panting, my muscles screaming, my stomach aching for food. But I felt nothing.

  I blinked.

  That was strange.

  I focused inward, searching for any sign of fatigue and any burn of hunger, but there was none.

  Leaf’s body should have been tired. But it wasn’t.

  I realized then, my ghostly nature granted me complete control over him. I wasn’t merely possessing him. I wasn’t merely a voice in his head. I was him, and I could regute even the most minute reactions of his body. I was overriding his exhaustion, suppressing his hunger.

  But hunger was still there, buried beneath my control. I let go, just a little, allowing Leaf’s instincts to surface.

  He was starving.

  I sat down beside the corpse of the Terran I had killed and retrieved the half-eaten loaf of bread I had taken from him. It was stale, rough, but I chewed and swallowed it anyway.

  As I ate, I scanned the ruins for anything useful. The vilge was little more than ashes and debris, but perhaps something had survived.

  I had already lost too much. I wasn’t going to leave empty-handed.

  I knelt beside the well, cupping my hands to drink the cool water from the bucket. It soothed my dry throat, washing away the taste of smoke and ash. As I drank, my mind drifted.

  A moment ter, I reached into my satchel and pulled out the fsk I had looted from the dead Terran. I uncorked it, sniffing its contents. It was alcohol, sour and strong. Useless to me. I turned it over and let the liquid spill onto the scorched earth, soaking into the dirt. Then, I dipped the fsk into the bucket and refilled it with fresh water.

  I would need it for the journey ahead.

  The raiders had taken Mindy. But I wasn’t running after them just yet. I had no doubt I could track them. Their group was rge, burdened by supplies and captives. They couldn’t move quickly, and they certainly couldn’t hide from me. No, I had time.

  Time to do what needed to be done.

  I walked through what remained of the vilge, searching for anything useful. Most of it had been destroyed in the fire, but here and there, I found remnants like scattered coins glinting among the ash, a small pouch of salt and dried herbs, and the real prize: a strip of dried venison that had survived the fmes. I tucked them all into my satchel.

  Then, I turned my attention to the dead.

  I found a wooden shovel among the ruins, its handle bckened but still sturdy. I gripped it tightly, my hands steady as I began to dig.

  One by one, I buried my kin.

  The first body belonged to Elder Myrel, his silver hair stained with blood, his once-wise eyes staring lifelessly at the sky. Leaf had always respected him, had sought his counsel when times were hard. Now, his frail body y in the dirt, lifeless and broken.

  I closed his eyes before covering him with soil.

  Next was Vasha, a young huntress Leaf had trained with since childhood. Her bow was snapped in half beside her, and a deep gash had nearly severed her arm. Her face, which Leaf remembered smiling on countless hunts, was twisted in agony. I tried not to dwell on it as I buried her.

  There was little left of Aros, the vilge lumberjack and bowmaker. His body had been burned beyond recognition, but I remembered his massive frame, his booming ughter as he worked on wood and all sorts of furniture. I whispered his name as I lowered what was left of him into the ground.

  One by one, I found them. Matched their faces to Leaf’s memories. Named them.

  One by one, I buried them.

  I was Leaf, and I was Non. But right now, I was only a gravedigger.

  By the time I finished, the vilge was silent. Only the freshly dug graves remained, neat rows marking where my kin once stood.

  I stabbed the shovel into the dirt and exhaled.

  The raiders had taken Mindy.

  I stood among the freshly dug graves, the scent of damp earth mixing with the lingering smoke of the ruined vilge. My hands clenched into fists, dirt still clinging to my fingers. This was the moment, wasn’t it?

  The part where I would swear vengeance.

  The Leaf in me burned with rage, a fury so raw and searing that it nearly consumed me. He wanted blood. He wanted to take everything from the raiders as they had taken from him. From us.

  And yet… I exhaled, forcing my body to rex.

  “No,” I said aloud, my voice steady despite the storm within. “Vengeance isn’t what we should focus on. We need to save Mindy.”

  The words tasted foreign, but as I spoke them, I felt my heart slow, my mind sharpening. Leaf’s anger still smoldered within me, but I refused to let it cloud my thoughts.

  Vengeance could wait.

  Right now, I needed a pn.

  I turned toward the chief’s house or what little remained of it. I had saved this pce for st, knowing full well the raiders would have stripped it bare. But there was something I had to check.

  A memory surfaced.

  Chief Sorken, ughing heartily, boasting of his youth. “You pups wouldn’t believe the beasts I’ve sin with this bow. Great Beasts, mind you! Not those little fawns you bring home.”

  Leaf had seen it before, hidden away—a weapon of power, one the chief had treasured even after his hunting days were over. If it had survived, I would find it.

  I stepped inside the charred remains of the house, dragging the wooden shovel behind me. The floorboards creaked under my weight, some already broken from the looting. I lifted the shovel and smmed it down against the weakened pnks, splintering them further.

  Once.

  Twice.

  On the third strike, the wood gave way completely, revealing a hidden compartment beneath. My breath hitched as I crouched down and pried open the chest nestled inside.

  There it was.

  A recurved bow, its limbs polished smooth, its string taut despite the passage of time. Beside it, a fine quiver rested, filled with ebony-tipped arrows, each one still sharp and deadly.

  I ran my fingers over the bow, feeling the weight of it, the history it carried. This wasn’t just a weapon. It was a legacy.

  I slung the bow across my chest, securing the quiver at my hip.

  Then, I stepped outside, looking out at the darkened forest beyond the ruined vilge. The raiders were out there. Mindy was out there.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Wait for me, Mindy,” I murmured. “I’m coming.”