When they were inside, they made their way immediately for the machine room. That was located close behind the main room, just opposite the wall, and shared a space with their father’s office, where he would spend most of his time, especially during stressful times.

This being a stressful time, Stepan was at his desk in his office. When Kamila entered the room she found him already standing up. His eyes were closed and his head leaned forward as he bent down slightly to wrap Hilda in a hug. Kamila heard the both of them crying quietly as she stepped into the room. She started to step forward to join them, then…

You can’t do that. You have no right. That was what the dead woman would likely have thought, so the thought became Kamila’s. She leaned against the doorframe. “Dad. Have you contacted Kivv?” she asked, and Stepan stood up, releasing Hilda from the hug.

Stepan’s face was pained as he looked over to the radio machine. Kamila followed his eyes, and what she found there was a mess of electronic parts, torn cables, destroyed antennae, lights long since gone out and without power.

“I was… trying to send a message,” Stepan began. “Right after… well.” He wiped his cheek. “The soldiers came and destroyed the radio. And not just the radio, the data, they broke everything. Ripped up some of the books, even. They didn’t touch the old memory-cord, I don’t think they even would have known what it is. But that’s not going to help us contact Kivv.”

Kamila nodded. “Hilda, can you see if there’s anything that can be salvaged? Maybe we can send a one-off message or something…” Hilda nodded and went over to the broken machine, poking at it with shaking hands. Kamila stepped in close to Stepan and, suppressing the bile in her throat, the shame weighing down her heart, she wrapped one arm around her father and rested her head on his shoulder.

“You should leave, dad, before they come back,” Kamila said. “Hilda and I need to leave, now, and the soldiers are going to be searching for us. If we can’t get a message ahead to Kivv, you’ll just have to hold tight until we can get there and they can send people back. And that means you need to stay out of trouble, stay on your toes.”

“You’re telling me to take a hike? Kamila, that’s all you have to say to me?” Stepan’s face was somewhere halfway between a pained smile and an ostentatious frown. He leaned back a bit, eyes still shining even in the dim light of the ruined office.

Kamila laughed, but it came out sounding more like a sob. She leaned forward. “Please, Dad. I’m serious. You don’t want me to lose you too, do you?”

A long moment passed between them.

“Fu – alright, Kam. I’m going to go for a walk. And when I come back, I better find out you two have disappeared off to the northeast, without a trace. And I better see you again, yeah?”

This time she didn’t hold back a pained yelp. “Yeah, you’ll see me again,” Kamila said. “I promise.”

“Good.” Stepan pulled away from the hug, and backed out of the room, never breaking eye contact with Kamila till he was out and shrouded in the hall’s shadows.

When Stepan’s footsteps faded away into the dying of the day, Kamila moved to stand behind Hilda, looking over the machinery. “Did you get anything out of that?”

“I’ve pulled out the radio transmitter, and most of the important parts for sending a message,” Hilda said. “But without a power source, without Aleks to help us piece it back together, I don’t think…”

“That’s alright,” Kamila said. She glanced over at the doorway they’d taken into the office, the small passageway out beyond that. If you were smart, you’d take Hilda now and run.

Creak. A noise like a door being opened on rusty hinges was audible even back here.

Hilda jolted and nearly jumped up from where she stood, but Kamila quickly placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Stay here, I’ll check it out,” Kamila said, and took the crossbow from her. Hilda nodded.

“Okay, I’ll keep trying to figure out what else is salvageable here.”

“I’ll shout if you need to run.”

Hilda bit her tongue and nodded.

When Kamila stepped out into the main room, Zoe and Plato were already there, their weapons leveled at her. She pointed her crossbow at the ground, held a finger over her lips, and slowly stepped towards the two of them.

“This was not the deal, Kamila Zelenko,” Zoe said, her eyes darting back and forth. Nervous. The mask slipped a little.

“Hilda’s in the back,” Kamila said. “I’ll take you to her. But first I need you to swear to me that Aleks and my father will be unharmed.”

“I have already sworn,” Zoe said, mouth twisting. Impatient.

“Swear to your God,” Kamila said immediately.

The mask slipped a little.

Plato chuckled quietly. “There is great unrest in this village, which may soon boil over. Very soon, in fact. When that happens, what guarantees will there be?” The calm soldier adjusted his service weapon, its barrel pointed straight at Kamila. “Besides, no oath sworn to an Abrist is worth the breath it took to say.”

“I swear,” Zoe growled quietly, “to God and his Host, Emperor Aivor, the First of his Line. We will not harm Stepan Zelenko nor Aleks Zelenko, nor will we allow any of our comrades to harm them. We can provide no such guarantee for any other in this village, given the climate of things.”

“Good enough,” Kamila said to Zoe, smiling too-sweetly at Plato. She ushered the two of them back, motioning again with a finger over her lip for them to be quiet.

She turned the corner into the room, crossbow leveled at Hilda’s back. Her sister was engrossed enough with the machine parts that she didn’t look up to see Kamila’s approach, and her footsteps were quiet enough that she was not heard.

She spoke. “Hilda.”

Hilda turned, and upon seeing the crossbow pointed at her chest she jumped, dropping the machine parts onto the ground. Their clattering broke through the silence like a hurled bomb.

“Kamila… you… what’s going on?” Hilda started to back away, her hands held up in front of her.

“Get her!” Plato shouted, the sudden change in his tone shocking even Kamila. “Subdue her or we shoot you both!” Kamila’s heart hammered madly between her ribs. She closed her fists, tossing the crossbow down, and charged.

Immediately Kamila felt the heaviness and the charge in the air, the buildup of otherworldly mist and whirling sand that hovered just at the edge of vision and sound all around her. Hilda stood up high on the tips of her toes, her hands held out at her sides. Kamila dove in for a first punch, twisting her back into the strike. She missed, as the mists buffeted Hilda and she turned out of the way of the attack. The sense of pressure in the air grew.

“Stop! Kamila!” Hilda shouted, her eyes the only part of her betraying the façade of calm her body displayed. That Reaper’s glaive began to form in her hands, sapping all the moisture out of the air. “Why are you helping them?”

“I have to!” Kamila called back, diving forward to grab Hilda’s wrists and knock her from the air. The swirling sands fell to the floor suddenly, like a bird shot out of the sky, then began to dance in their places again.

Hilda, her face streaked with tears, her mouth in a thin and stern line. “I’ll hurt you, Kamila.”

“You won’t!” Kamila raised a fist, wreathed in shifting iron plates. She brought her fist down, striking Hilda hard in the shoulder. Crunch. “I’m stronger than you!”

Hilda cried out in pain, rolled away from Kamila, and scrambled up to her feet. The sand rose, furious. The charge grew in the air again, and Kamila felt the Aether’s mists rolling out from around Hilda, haphazardly seeking. She had magic, but she did not have control. Kamila grinned grimly, watching her sister’s movement.

Hilda tripped on the hem of her dress, and fell to the floor again.

Kamila took the opportunity and jumped forward, her fist descending again. “I’m faster than you!” She punched Hilda, eliciting another scream.

“Kamila, stop! Stop!”

“I’m stronger than you!”

“Please… you can’t do this!”

“I’m better than you!”

“You can’t betray me like this!”

“I’m… worthy!”

Hilda coughed, blood. The warmth of it startled Kamila, made her eyes water. Hilda started to speak, but then her head lolled, and she lost consciousness for a moment. She returned then, and Kamila pushed her against the wall, starting to stand up while keeping one hand on Hilda’s throat.

Plato beamed at Kamila from across the room, while Zoe stood with her arms folded, staring down at the floor. Foot tapping.

“Some people, there’s just no reasoning with,” Plato declared. “I’ve tried, many times, to bring others under the wing. Rarely with success. You, however, served us well.”

“I gave you what you wanted,” Kamila said, glancing down at the floor. Plato still held his service weapon, though Zoe’s was aimed at the floor. The repeating crossbow was on the ground next to Kamila. Plato did not lower his weapon.

“You gave us exactly what we wanted,” Plato said, smiling. “Isn’t that right, Zoe?”

Zoe grunted. “Yeah. You did good, Kamila Zelenko.” She sounded tired. Her heart wasn’t in the words.

“Put the gun down, Plato. I gave you Hilda, you let me leave.”

Plato smiled. “Zoe swore that Stepan and Aleks would be unharmed. She said nothing about you.”

Zoe glanced over at Plato. “I didn’t say –“

Plato laughed, a full belly laugh. It was the first time Kamila had heard real mirth in days. “Don’t be so ungrateful! I’m helping you out here. A filthy beast like you? You could never live a normal life after today. I’m showing you mercy.” He shouldered his service weapon. Kamila stared down into its inky void. That void beckoned.

She let go of Hilda’s neck.

She grabbed up the repeating crossbow, threw herself to the floor, and steadied her arms.

She fired.

Fired.

Fired.

Fired.

Plato’s service weapon fired uselessly into the wall, and he stumbled back, mouth agape, hands clutching at the four crossbow bolts sprouting in vertical alignment from his chest. Kamila surged up from the ground, throwing the crossbow. It struck Zoe in the face, causing her to raise her arms and drop her own weapon. Kamila closed the gap between herself and Plato. She grasped him by either side of the head. He started to say something, panicked, his voice suddenly high and shrill. He never got past his first word. Kamila twisted. Her muscles burned, and she threw her whole weight against the task.

Snapping the neck of a fully grown human being is much harder than it looks. But it can be done.

Plato slumped down against the wall, and Kamila turned, fists surrounded by ever-moving iron halos.

Zoe bent down to reach for her service weapon. She never got to it, as Kamila’s fist pinned her to the wall. The iron plates drew back and an open hand clutched Zoe by the forehead.

Kamila, her face an incoherent grimace, slammed Zoe’s head into the wall.

“Yes, we are filthy.”

Slam. Kamila felt her tattoo burning, knitting her muscles together even as she tore them with every overextended strike. Nearby, Plato attempted to say something, but no words came out.

“And we will never be normal again.”

Slam. Plato’s voice grew quieter, whispering, murmuring. The priest’s whole body shuddered, except for his head, which lay horribly still.

“Beasts. Monsters.”

Slam. With a final rattling gasp, Plato went silent.

“And you can’t fucking handle us!”