The wind howled across the barren expanse, carrying with it the scent of rot and burnt wood. Veiss trudged forward, his boots grinding against the dirt-streaked cobblestones of a road that had seen better days. The girl hung limply over his shoulder, her shallow breaths barely audible over the wailing gusts.
Each step was laborious, not because of her weight—she was light as kindling—but because of the silence that followed him like a specter. The quiet was unnatural, oppressive, as though the world itself held its breath in the wake of the slaughter.
It wasn't long before the voice came again.
"You made the wrong choice, Veiss," it said, smooth and familiar, cutting through the emptiness like a dagger.
He gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of Umbraclaw.
"You're imagining things," he muttered under his breath, though he knew it was a lie.
The weapon's jagged surface shimmered faintly, the dark veins that ran along its length pulsing in time with the whispers.
"Am I?" it replied, the voice curling into something cruel and mocking. "You think sparing her will change anything? She's tainted, Veiss. Just like the rest of them. You saw the mark."
"I don't need you to remind me," he growled, shifting the girl's weight on his shoulder. She didn't stir.
"She's a danger," the voice continued, unrelenting. "You know what that sigil means. You've seen what the cult does to people like her. Do you think she'll stay innocent for long?"
Veiss stopped walking and set the girl down, propping her against a tree that had long since withered to a brittle husk. He stared at her for a moment, his eye narrowing as he studied the faint glow of the mark on her chest.
"Maybe you're right," he said, his voice low.
The blade hummed in approval, its edges glinting wickedly in the dim twilight.
"But maybe I don't care," he finished, his words biting and cold.
The hum faltered, replaced by a momentary silence. Then the voice came again, quieter this time, almost like a plea.
"You're losing sight of the mission, Veiss. You swore to destroy them. All of them. That includes her."
He turned away from the girl and looked at the horizon. The darkened sky stretched endlessly, broken only by the faint, unnatural glow of the Black Sun. It loomed like an open wound in the heavens, casting its malevolent light over everything.
"I'm not doing this for you," he said finally.
The weapon went quiet.
Veiss sat down against the tree opposite the girl, his body aching from the day's battle. He studied her again, noting the hollow look in her eyes and the way her chest barely rose with each breath. She looked so fragile, so breakable. It reminded him of someone else, someone who had once been just as defenseless.
"Where are you from?" he asked abruptly.
The girl didn't respond.
"Hey," he said, louder this time. "I asked you a question."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She simply stared at him, her expression vacant.
"Great," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "A mute. That's just what I needed."
For a moment, he considered leaving her. He could walk away, let the shadows or the beasts take her. It would be easier. But the thought didn't sit right with him—not because of any sense of morality, but because of the blade's words.
"She's the key," it had said.
To what, he didn't know. But the idea that this girl might hold some piece of the puzzle gnawed at him, refusing to let him go.
"You don't talk," he said, more to himself than to her. "Fine. Just don't slow me down."
He reached into his pack and pulled out a piece of dried meat, tossing it to her. It landed in her lap, but she didn't move to pick it up.
"Eat," he ordered, his tone sharp.
This time, she obeyed, her trembling hands lifting the scrap to her mouth. She chewed slowly, as though the act itself was foreign to her.
Satisfied, Veiss leaned back against the tree and closed his eye, though he knew sleep wouldn't come. It never did.
As the hours dragged on, he kept his grip tight on Umbraclaw, its cold surface a constant reminder of the choices he had made—and the ones yet to come.