Prologue
Her
I shake my head back and forth a bit to try and shake the grogginess away from me. I guess the rhythmic crunch of fresh snow being broken by my walking almost lulled me to sleep. I shouldn't be surprised, I had been walking for the last four hours straight. Well maybe not that long. I'd taken a half an hour "break" at some point. It had taken twenty minutes to quell the rage that had been brewed inside myself. Taken five minutes to clean my katana.
In five minutes, those five long minutes was all it took to kill the entirety of the assault team that had been sent after me. They were thirty of the most experienced, skilled and battle-hardened men we had. None of that had mattered. No amount of training could prepare them for the business end of my blade. Five minutes turned them into disfigured and mangled bodies on top of snow heavily stained with crimson.
Remembering what had happened must have ticked something off inside my head as I feel my hand subconsciously grab the handle of my sword. Looking down, the black blade, along with my black trench coat and scarf, seems to only force me to think of what I had done. I left.
I abandoned the only people I knew. I slaughtered their pitiful attempt at a quick vengeance for my defection. I guess the higher-ups weren't too pleased about my litter walk-out on them. Weren't too pleased when one of their top operatives said "I'm done with this madness". Well that's what happens when you leave a group of wolves. Suddenly blood-thirsty wolves I might add.
Shadow walker. I could never decide on whether I hated or loved that title of sorts. While perfectly descriptive of myself and the majority of the member of the Dusk, it didn't exactly have the cleanest of backgrounds. It was a cursed legacy that marked those it gifted. It was dark. Dark and covered in blood. Kind of like my current appearance.
This snaps me out of my thoughts. I'm going to need to do something about my appearance. If I showed up to Vale in my current look, no doubt every hunter and huntress would take notice. They'd also take notice of the nearest weapon locker, Dust dealer and spare mercenary this side of Remnant. It's no wonder, with how profitable Vale made the witch-hunt style raids against Shadow walkers, that hearing of someone making it past 25 is next to non-existent. If my dark look and even darker katana did not give me away, the occasional crackle of black-blue lighting that represented my flared Aura would. I'm going to need to hide a lot about myself once I reach civilization. Joy.
I notice the blizzard that has been hiding my trail so well slowly begin to die down. And it hasn't just been keeping myself out of eyesight. My heightened Aura allows me to sense that presence.
That dreadfully familiar presence.
The foreboding presence that stalks all living things. Maybe it's my inner Darkness that lets me notice it. See it. Oh and who ever thought the man with the scythe was only bones was wrong. He actually looks pretty good with all things considered.
Except for the smile. That beautifully massive smile he always has plastered across his face.
I know that I'll never be able to forget that face. Consider it the curse of staring down Death and walking away from him.
And I haven't stopped walking since.
Because I know that stopping is meaningless.
Because attempting to remember those I've killed would be a waste of time. It would simply take too long.
Because attempting to apply logic to my situation would just result in my own death.
Because the reality of possibly being one of the most wanted people in Vale is only half my fault.
Because I know I'll never be able to fully wipe away the blood of those I've crossed from my mind, body, or blade.
Because I've continually lived my life going against the Alpha AND the Omega.
Because I exist
in
Defiance.