Thomas woke to a sharp kick to the legs.
“Wake up, Copper. Brother Douglas says it’s time to move!” Dareth’s voice was annoyingly chipper.
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“Okay, I’m up…” Thomas muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
Dareth reached down and hauled him to his feet. “Look alive, sleepyhead!” he said, giving Thomas a few solid slaps on the shoulder.
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“I said I’m up, dammit! What the hell is wrong with you?” Thomas snapped, his voice thick with the bitterness of someone who hated mornings.
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Dareth tilted his head, mock insulted. “Do I need to hit you in the stomach again?” He spun Thomas around and pointed toward the camp. “Brother Douglas has been up for at least an hour. He’s in a real sour mood.”
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Thomas squinted toward the figure in the distance. “Isn’t he always like that?”
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Dareth chuckled. “Yes, but this is something more. He really hates that he’s going to have to take orders from a woman. He already whipped a man today.” He shook his head in disbelief.
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“Sounds like he’s got mommy issues,” Thomas muttered as he began gathering his belongings.
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Dareth smirked and knelt to help him. “Go ahead, Copper—go say that to him. That’d be a funny sight.” He found it genuinely amusing when Thomas ran his mouth. It was one of the things he liked about him.
Once everything was packed, Thomas pulled out his worn book and a sliver of graphite. He began scribbling something down when Dareth raised an eyebrow. “Already writing about how great I am?” he teased with a grin.
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Thomas rolled his eyes. “No, Log Legs. I’m writing down what Douglas is doing. I can’t believe the Church allows him to get away with this.”
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Dareth frowned. “If he finds out what you’re doing, Copper… getting whipped will be the least of your worries.” He stood and kicked dirt over the dwindling fire. “Now stop writing and put that out, we’ll be moving out soon.”
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Brother Douglas was always in a foul mood, today, he was worse. “If I hear one more of you ask some stupid question like ‘I wonder what Lady Rhaine looks like? I wonder if she’s kinder than me?’” Douglas snarled, cracking his whip. The sharp snap of leather slicing through the air made several soldiers flinch. “I’ll tear the weak hide off your worthless bodies!” he roared. “You’re supposed to be the Creator’s Army, not lovestruck fools!” Another loud crack rang out, the sound biting through the morning like thunder. “I already made an example of one of you,” Douglas growled, pacing like a caged beast. “Don’t think I won’t do it again.” Brother Douglas stormed off. The men quickly fell into marching formation, and the Sub-Commanders moved through the ranks, inspecting the troops. Meanwhile, Douglas veered off toward a nearby tree at the forest's edge to relieve himself. As he stood there, he froze.. distant laughter drifted through the trees. The sound of children, light and playful, echoed faintly. He squinted into the woods, trying to make out what they were saying, but the voices were too far off, warped by wind and leaves. He shook his head. "Just the forest playing tricks.", he told himself. Finishing quickly, Douglas hurried back to the road and rejoined his officers. “We leave now!” he barked.
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Beyond the edge of the forest, hidden beneath the veil of night, stood Marcus and the Crimson Mist. But this time, they weren’t hunting. Something different was happening. “We love you, Father!” the voices called.
Marcus had found something he hadn't felt in so long, since Tyler. For the first time in what felt like ages, a flicker of joy stirred within him. Ever since Stennor, the ability to feel had returned to him, faint, dulled, but real. And now, watching the children, something in his heart began to stir. They laughed and played like normal children… like his son, Conner. He smiled as he sat there, soaking in the warmth of the moment.
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But it didn’t last.
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“How dare you!” Lorna’s voice shattered the peace, sharp and venomous.
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Marcus froze.
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“Our son and I are alone—and here you are, enjoying your little monsters!” she hissed. An invisible force lashed across his face. It wasn’t as strong as before, but it still stung. “We all died because of you! The world is going to die because of you!” Another strike.
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Marcus stumbled back, his cheek flushed red where the unseen force had hit him. “Lorna, please!” he cried, rising to his feet.
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“No, Marcus! You haven’t done anything! All you do is destroy. You don’t even care to find us!” Lorna shouted, striking him again with unseen force. “Tyler was right… you would NEVER come for us!” Her words stirred something deep within—something dark.
The Hunger, long dormant, began to awaken. Coldness surged through Marcus’s veins like venom. He gritted his teeth, drew his sword, and started slashing at the trees in front of him with wild fury. Each strike fed the rage.
Visions.. no, memories, flashed through his mind: his family, Lorna, Conner... and Tyler. Tyler above all. That mocking grin, that smug face, the betrayal. Marcus focused his fury on the image of Tyler. This is what he wanted this is what he needed: the chance to kill him.
He struck Tyler’s face. Again. And again. Then his neck. Then drove the blade deep into his chest—just like Tyler had done to him. Marcus shoved the sword through with all his might, relishing the sensation, the catharsis.
And then, the blade turned to vapor. Tyler stood there, laughing... until the laughter stopped. Until he began to decay, fading from Marcus’s sight, crumbling like ash in the wind.
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As quickly as the Hunger had overcome him, it released him. Marcus collapsed to his knees. “Please… make this stop,” he whispered. He didn’t care who heard him only that someone, anyone, could make it end.
He wept. The pain was unbearable. Then, faintly he heard the sound of children crying. It pulled him back to his senses. Marcus looked up.
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The children stood near a tree, cowering, their small bodies trembling. “Why, Father?” one asked through tears, their voice barely above a whisper.
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Confused, Marcus looked around. Blood. It was everywhere splattered across the trees, soaking the leaves, dripping from his sword.
He turned back to the children and counted. There were only five. “No!” Marcus screamed as the realization struck him. The blood hadn’t come from Tyler. He didn’t know which one he had killed.
His breathing turned shallow, rapid. His mind reeled, grasping for control. Once, when he was alive, the weight of what he had done would have shattered him completely. But now… now he was the Usher. And the Usher could walk the edge of madness—and never fall.
He reached out to the Crimson Mist.
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But they recoiled. “Stay away from us!” they screamed, their voices filled with fear and betrayal.
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They fled, leaving Marcus alone in the woods, surrounded by blood, haunted by what he had done. “I… I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
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The coming dawn signaled the time for Rhaine to honor her deal. The town of Stennor provided a horse-drawn cart to carry Orion. Melissa remained at his side. “Promise me, Melissa,” Orion said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do not give Rhaine any trouble. I fear what harm may come to you.” The cart had a thin lining of hay, but it offered little comfort.
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“Try not to speak, Orion. I don’t agree with your bargain… but I understand why you made it,” Melissa said, her voice trembling as she reached out once more to heal him. A faint blue glow shimmered around Orion but faded just as quickly. Her magic had no effect.
The failure tore at her. She shook her head, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “I don’t understand why it isn’t working…”
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Orion shook his head. “I defied the Church. I don’t deserve your healing, Nightingale.” He forced a faint smile, one that couldn’t hide the weight of guilt he’d carried since River Hallow. In his heart, he believed this suffering was part of his Divine Punishment—a penance he had to endure.
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Melissa shook her head, voice trembling with conviction. “It’s the Church that should be in pain, not you.” She glanced down. “You stopped the Usher. You saved people. The Church would have let them die.” Her voice cracked as she lowered her head and closed her eyes. “This is no just world.”
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Brother Orion gently placed his hand over hers. “Everything happens as the Creator wills it,” he said softly. “I will be fine.”
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“Let’s go!” Rhaine shouted from atop her horse. The wagon lurched forward. She glanced back at Orion and Melissa, saying nothing but the worry in her eyes betrayed her silence. She didn’t fully trust Orion, but something in her had started to change. Even if just a sliver, she admired the strength it took for both of them to get here.
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She was about to speak when a familiar voice cut in. “Lady Rhaine. Cold, calculated leader. Slayer of cute nicknames…” Alex said with a smug grin. He knew Wench had never been cute, but that didn’t stop him. “And now, Master Dealmaker.”
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Rhaine rolled her eyes. She had planned to leave without him, she needed some peace. “What are you blabbering about now?” she asked, nudging her horse forward.
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“It was the talk of the tavern! How Lady Rhaine and Melissa faced off in a tense negotiation…” Alex waved his hand dramatically. “Meow, Rhaine. Meow.”
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Rhaine could feel the headache returning. Of course he got the details wrong—but he never missed a chance to remind her when he was “right.” She didn’t answer him. Instead, she rode on, letting the rhythm of hooves and wheels drown out her thoughts. Her silence said more than words ever could.
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“Everything happens as the Creator wills it,” Orion said softly. “I will be fine.”
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