“The world can keep its secrets. I have a grenade launcher.”

-Forward Operator 1377, Cleanup of Ixium Hive 544

What lies in the wastes beyond the shadow of the Godhomes? Some say Hell is what lurks out there, beyond the sight of gods and goddesses; the edge of maws that lead to the true voids before existence arose. They would be right, if only in degrees, as no salvation exists in the Retribution Fields. No one in it deserved to enter, but all eventually earn the sins necessary to remain.

At the border of Blood Falls, tucked into a corner out of sight from most, was an enclave of outcasts and strangers from far and wide. A small river ran through the length of it, supplying the settlement with food and water. Most of the people in sight didn’t live there, but simply passed through on their way out or into Blood Falls. For one person, their destination lay somewhere beyond Blood Falls. Even this far from the source, the smell of blood was still thick enough to make someone gag, but she’d grown used to it. The hood she wore hid her face from prying eyes, but not much could be done for the pair of bladed arms folded on her back. Her eyes scanned the crowd for anyone whose gaze lingered a little too long for comfort.

Most of the locals paid little heed to her, having seen everything and then some of the folks that roam the Retribution Fields. The only ones that kept staring at her with eyes like hunters were the sellers of the marketplace she was currently walking through.

“Get your finest knives right here! Finest knives of bone, teeth, obsidian, steel, silk, and many more!” Two men attached at the hips waved their hands over the selection of knives on display at their table, on a still-fresh cut of something that resembled beef, and even on themselves, fresh blood dripping out of open wounds.

One knife caught the woman’s eyes and the softest of smiles came and went as she left it behind. Suddenly, she felt something part the air near her pockets, and a quick check confirmed what had just happened. She turned around to catch a glimpse of the thief, but they were gone. Not one to give up easily, the woman began casting a tracking spell with a little twist, sending it off like a dog out on the hunt. A few minutes later, the spell brought back a boy no older than ten cursing up a storm and trying in vain to escape the spell’s grasp. Curiously, no one tried to stop the woman from catching the boy, with some of them even shaking their head upon seeing the boy’s antics.

“Has anybody told you that invisibility is a poor skill to use to rob someone of their coins?” The woman spoke with amusement as she willed the spell to restrain the boy’s limbs so she could search him for her stuff.

“Piss off. Not everybody can have a good life like you, Miss Bladerunner.” The boy’s sneer was cut short as one of the woman’s blades reared up and stopped just short of piercing his ugly mug.

“Points for trying, but wrong thing to pick up on. These blades-“ The woman gestured to her back. “-have cut more men than you have blood in your veins. A little respect goes a long way to keeping your life, boy.” The woman withdrew from the boy with her pockets once more lined with hard-earned coin.

“I think you look good like that. Let’s say you stay up like that for an hour, alright? Think about your life choices.” The woman patted the immobile child on the back as she walked past him, ignoring the rage pooling behind the boy’s eyes.

The woman went by the name Sandy in the enclave, and it has served her well, except for when she had to explain why she chose that name to a curious little girl and her father. She could still remember the light of hope fading from the girl’s eyes and the groan of disbelief that came from the father.

It wasn’t her fault the Retribution Fields had sand as far as the eyes could see.

But her business in the enclave was coming to an end, thankfully. She’d arranged for transportation, supplies, and quite the collection of tomes to amuse herself with for hours on end. When asked whether she required an escort or two, Sandy simply showed her blades and her contact nodded in turn. As for why she was leaving, Sandy made sure the reasons were vague enough to tip off anyone listening in that it was none of their business. And it’s not like explaining things would make the burden she’s carrying any lighter, not when he’s always at her back, chasing her for an answer she knew wouldn’t make sense to the man. It was one of those things no one could have stopped, like fate.

A bit of wind picked up and dust fluttered up and around the small closets she’s been living in for a week now. Holes all around made privacy a premium, but she’s been able to patch the worst of it with some leather she’s scrounged up and crafted. There was nothing in the way of a shower except for two buckets placed right near the exit, and one of them was filled already. Sandy made a note to empty it the next time she left, but for now she was content on completing her nap. Her blades hung above her like a pair of wings and a tear left her eye without her meaning to. She tried not to feel the pain anymore, but still the memory came back and with a whimper, she closed her eyes and hoped that the dreams that come will be gentle this time around.

She was above the battlefield, high above the clouds and the concern of many. Some tried with arrows, bullets, spells, curses, and words to bring her down, but no one would dare succeed. She was might, and as she descended, she was speed, faster than lightning and swifter than thought. The ground gave way and lives were snuffed, but she wasn’t done. She was on the hunt.

Her magic went wild and her body moved with killer intent, tearing swathes at a time as her wings guarded her flank. Occasionally, several would try and catch her off-guard, only to be turned into red mist which she delighted in feeling throughout her skin. There was no stopping the slaughter, the murder and mayhem. She was Death’s Emissary and her word would be carved into the memory of the world whether it wanted to or not.

And then, she saw him. Her enemy then, his hands behind his back while one carried the stick he would later insist was a proper mage staff. His magic crashed with hers and devastation followed, knocking both to their feet. The one to rise first would be the winner and she-

She lost. To the very end he hid his strength, and with that final blow she felt despair. The very same feeling she had given to many before, now stood front and center in her own heart. She tried to deny it, shouting defiance and cursing that man for his impudence, the gall to strike down the most perfect being to exist in the world.

In that moment, the man turned to look at her properly, and with a smile more appropriate on a child than a man, he laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed until the crows came home, and then he left without so much as a glance back.

And so it was then that Sigala, the Bane Wind, found her match and lover, all at the same time.