Talon POV

“Talon! Taaalon! Brother, keep up!” A lighthearted voice rang out ahead of me. I could only shake my head as it laughed at my slowness, but I couldn’t be mad. Training had been exhausting today, and my muscles were still sore. But helping Asha with her own chores was something I didn’t want to miss. My sister’s good nature made it easy to ignore how my muscles protested, and fear about what may happen if I didn’t accompany her was enough to push me over the edge. She may be one of Crown Naruune’s beloved, but many unexpected things could happen in the Deep Woods, even if she was simply gathering herbs.

Even so, she had a true talent for finding medicinal herbs. As if the forest could anticipate her wishes, and temporarily lifted the curse which plagued most hunters. It was only her soft nature that allowed the medicine-makers to snatch her up, rather than the hunters.

“You slow down!” I called after her. Outside the forest I could outrun her easily, but within, I didn’t stand a chance. The puddles, undergrowth, and roots forced even the most fleetfooted boy to slow down. “You may be Naruune’s Beloved, but there are still monsters, y’know…!”

When I finally caught up with her, she was crouched down in the shade of a tree’s immense roots, methodically stripping a plant of its leaves. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, eyes seeing only her task. “There’s a lot here this time. Almost a whole garden. Can you help me pick some of the quillweed over there?” she asked, pointing in a direction.

I peered into the forest gloom. All the plants looked the same to me, woody stems with reddish-brown, heart-shaped leaves that poked out from the mossy carpet. Unless she meant the mushrooms? Those were easier to tell apart. “How do you even know where to find these…?”

“That’s easy, silly. I ask Big Brother Tree,” she said.

“What?” I looked back at her, and wondered if she was making some sort of joke. She shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe my confusion. Where did she pick that up?

“Just go gather the herbs,” she huffed, returning to her task. She looked so focused I chose not to argue, and instead simply did as she said. Crouching down over a plant that looked right, I began to copy her and strip the leaves.

“That’s not the right plant.” I leapt, only to realize Asha was now watching me over my shoulder. Her clothes were streaked with mud and dirt, as though she’d tried to clean her hands on her dress after working for hours. Had so much time already passed? I could only shake my head to her words. She wouldn’t hear any criticisms, she was the herb expert, after all.

“You said quillweed, right? This looks like what you were gathering,” I tried.

She frowned at me, almost condescending. “That’s flameweed. The stem’s a different color,” Asha said, slowly. I could only frown in return, squinting hard at the plant. Despite glancing back and forth between the two, they looked the same to me.

“Are you sure…?” I said hesitantly, “I know you’re training to make medicine, but--”

“It’s poisonous. You don’t want to kill me, do you?” she asked, her voice hard and cold.

“N-no, of course not,” I stammed. My heart thudded and my palms sweated.

“Then go find some quillweed for me.”

Under my sister’s perfectionist eyes, I began to gather up herbs. It was hard not to drop the plants she wanted with my trembling hands, but I dug up roots and scraped away bark until my fingers were raw and bleeding. Finally we began the trek back to the village. Asha skipped ahead lightly, as though the uneven ground and occasional brook didn’t even bother her. No such luck for myself. Every briar and vine clung to my legs, and the mud sucked at my feet, as I tried pulling myself out from their grasp. Even as I ripped my legs away, it left my pants spotted with little drops of blood. When I finally broke free I looked around, only to find that she had gone. The shadows of the canopy blended smoothly into a dark green fog in all directions, any drop of light remaining had evaporated.

“Asha, where are you?” I called through the gloom. “I-i can’t navigate this place like you can, wait for me—”

“Are you going to keep me waiting?” her voice echoed through the trees.

“O-of course not!” I called back, and began to run. Every few steps, leaves and wood shavings fell from the bundles I clung to, landing in filthy water and mud. I had to snatch them up quickly. Those were life-saving herbs. They couldn’t just rot on the ground, there were places they needed to be. As each fell from the bundle, I needed to stop and gather them up again.

“Big brother, where are you? I thought you were beside me,” a weak voice called out, before coughing.

“I’m coming! I’m coming, Asha! Hold on!” I called. It was all I could do to scramble after her fading voice, ignoring how undergrowth ripped my clothes and legs, or how sharp rocks dug into my feet. Pain pricked my legs, my arms, my neck. What did I care for these things? This was an emergency. My pain didn’t matter, compared to this. Before long, I broke out of the tree line and found myself standing outside my home. She was waiting for me, a look of impatience under her bloodied face. Mud and ash were caked onto her dress and legs, and mixed into her messy dark hair.

“You’re late,” she said. I shook my head, desperately.

“I’m not. I can’t be.”

“You’re late,” she echoed, following me into our home. She was lying on the bed. Pale and weak, beads of sweat shining on her forehead. Her brown eyes were shut as she lay dead to the world, dragging in breath after painful breath. The air grew thin, as I was left gasping.

“She’s already dead,” the first Asha said. “You’re wasting your time, boy. Just focus on getting stronger to avenge her, that’s the only thing you can do for her now.”

“I won’t. I can’t. She’s still alive,” I muttered, spreading the herbs out on a table. With trembling hands I reached for a mortar and pestle, and tried to focus on making the medicine. Was this one a panacea or a poison? I couldn’t tell, they all looked the same.

“You think she’ll be happy that you just sit around crying over her? She died, and that’s what you do? Get back to training,” Asha said.

I shook my head again, and ignored how my vision blurred. Breathing had become a demanding task. Careful not to spill a drop of the medicine, I moved to the bed. Asha was so pale. So still.

“She’s dead.”

“No,” I repeated.

“You wasted your time. You let her get away.”

“No.” I held up the medicine to her lips. Nothing. She was...She can’t be…

The other Asha stood behind me, and asked, “So sentimental. So soft. Are you an Angran warrior or a Greshan weakling—”

“I’m—”

“Are you going to let her kill me again?” she asked, breath hot on the back of my neck. “And again and again and again—”

“No!” I shouted. “I’m—I’m a warrior! I’ll—I’ll avenge you, I promise. I’ll kill her. I’ll rip out her organs and grind her bones to dust. I’ll avenge you, I promise, I promise…”

The bedridden Asha, white as a sheet, opened her eyes. Slowly, like the movements of the sun, her head rolled towards me. When she spoke, ashes fell from her empty mouth.

With a parched voice she asked, “Is that supposed to bring me back?”

I gasped for breath, for words. “I…”

“Avenge me, brother.”

“Why didn’t you protect me, brother.”

“Brother—”

“Brother—”

“Brother—!”

It was easier to just be angry.

Anger was a familiar emotion; an easy one. It demanded immediate action, justice, retribution, and afforded no time for other thoughts or niggling worries to seep through the cracks of a fragile ego. Rage was a driving flame which would keep one going far longer than they should. While all seemed lost, meaningless, empty and hollow, vengeance could save a life. Because if there’s someone you must kill, then you are not allowed to die. If someone else deserves your wrath, then you must be the wronged party, and not the one in the wrong. Anger is not just a fire or a dagger, but also a fortress, a roof that protects you from the cold rains of doubt and fear. It became a river which carried one onwards, without letting them dwell on discomfort.

For years, I had carefully kindled and stoked the flames of my rage, like a sacred flame it was forbidden to let go out. I had raised high walls to shelter it from the wind and rain, and fed it dry kindling. My fervent prayers and hopes and fears had been whispered to it as I knelt at its altar. My guilt, my regrets, my vows. How dare the Fiend take my sister from me. How dare those warriors use me, point me at whoever they pleased like an arrow and let me fly. How dare Kite hurt me like that. Who gave them the right?

So I did not allow myself to stop. To rest. I strode into the Deep Woods with purpose, hunted the first flock of greenwinged wildhens I could, and cooked myself a feast. When I was full, I did not allow myself to rest. Instead the nearest roots and boulders became my training dummies and sparring partners, as I beat them to pebbles and splinters. Through my flowing movements I sang the song of my rage to Crown Naruune, and scorched the moss and underbrush around me. When my muscles began to burn, consumed by far, I ignored them and pressed on. Press through the pain, this pain was nothing compared to what the Sun Fiend had, would, will put me through. I did not even stop when I grew tired. Not enough, it was not enough. I had to grow stronger, to push myself harder. Then, and only then, would it all be worth it.

Only then. Only then. Only then.

When I opened my eyes again, it was nighttime in the Deep Woods. Not that the night was much different from the day. I opened my eyes to blurriness and tears. To gnawing and screaming and bashing my fists into the nearest tree until my knuckles were raw and bleeding.

It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault it wasn’t my fault it wasn’t my fault it wasn’t my fault it wasn’t my fault it wasn’t my fault it wasn’t my fault—

But it didn’t change that what had been done had been done, did it? All I could do was keep going. Avenge her. Them. And to do that, I needed to become stronger. What was I doing sleeping? What was I doing, spending time with Elian and Nania? Entertaining a future where...what? Where I just idle away the days and live, while Asha can’t While so many can’t?

Distractions. Meaningless distractions. Them, these useless emotions, all of it. Discard them, cut them away, like moldy bread. Meaningless. Vengeance came before everything else.