The day went by so fast! It's 2:51 AM already! Whatever happened to sunlight?
I hope you enjoy this chapter, it was completely re-written from the original version because with the change in tone nothing worked anymore.
Stay safe y'all!

Stargazer

17th verse - Pelear

It was our third day in town, the day before the wedding when the town was set upon by bandits.

We had been lucky on the road, finding only wild beasts that didn't dare attack us and a couple of people that hurried the other way without any trouble. Despite being musicians, my companions had more than a couple of weapons on them, everything from a heavy maul on Audra to the beautifully ornate daggers that Landra had constantly strapped to her waist – my bow or my very own daggers didn't stand out in the least, and those alongside my magic with no Templars on sight had made me feel safer.

These people though, they were a long way from the single man I had killed on the road. They were organized, wearing matching armour and with weapons unsheathed. They had timed their appearance well too, when people were too busy with last-minute preparations for the incoming celebration, the few guardsmen of the town mostly unarmed and helping out, and those who were still armed had been stopped short at the sight of magical flames.

People around us crowded together, trembling with fear when the leader advanced with determination, however, I only had eyes for my fellow mage. He wore plain robes of muted colours and a ferocious expression that had nothing to envy his companions'. He was armed with a pole-arm of sorts in one hand and his flames flickering in the other, rising and falling. My head tilted to the side in confusion, for I could practically feel his effort, the Veil stiff around the point where he drew from it, very different from the delicate shift I had felt around Ellana and the more neutral one that usually surrounded everyone else. His physical cues also matched the preternatural feeling: his gaze shifted between the people in front of him and his own companions almost as fast as his weight from a foot to the other.

I was taken out of my contemplation by Galen's slender arm sliding across my waist and hugging me close, a gesture I had grown familiar with during our short time together even if I still startled every time. His free hand guided my head softly until my ear was close enough to catch his soft whisper.

"Lan is going to go around with Theros while Lucas and Audra distract them. Do you still have your daggers?"

My mouth went dry and I curled my hands into fists in order to keep them from trembling. It took me a couple of tries to regain my voice, that sounded far frailer than I would've liked.

"What about the mage?" What about me? I wanted to ask.

Even with magic, Ellana had overpowered me. Physically I was no match for anyone. Fear began to rear its ugly head, that constant pain in my nerves turning sharp as some of the men began to manhandle the people around us for their money and their belongings. The possibility of being hurt pumping adrenaline down my veins while the one in which I would end up hurting – or even killing - someone made my body tense up to uncomfortable levels. I swallowed a soft keen down when Galen's green eyes found mine, his expression determined and encouraging in a way that did nothing to soothe me.

"We take him down."

I didn't even have the time to ask if that we included me, for suddenly Audra advanced making a lot of noise of posturing to the leader and loudly calling them off, and then Landra was jumping with her daggers and a song on her voice and Theros was with his axe and everything descended into chaos.

Galen pushed me forward as he unsheathed his own daggers and narrowly avoided a thin stream of fire that caught one of the buildings instead. The action seemed to stop into a crawl and something inside me screamed at me to turn and flee, and I was about to heed that counsel when I saw a jagged spike of ice flying towards Audra's back, who was engaged with their leader and I didn't think.

Shattering it was as easy as seeing just how lose the molecules were tied together, a splatter of cold water was the only thing my friend felt and I was proud because that had been nothing flashy and could pass up as a mistake by the mage that had cast the spell, and perhaps I could use this advantage for something here and…

And my eyes met the mage's over the battlefield and my triumph became dread.

He knew.

I unsheathed my own daggers and ducked out of an ice spike directed at me. My limbs trembled but my mind was clear. He would give me up, if only because I was on the other side of the fight. I would not allow my freedom, my chances at going back home to be curtailed. He had to die.

So I jumped into the fray, advancing past Lucas who was covering Audra with his bow and Galen who had been stopped by two fighters that obviously had been set to protect their most precious asset – some of those had also stopped Landra on the other side. Still, with rage and fear simmering in me I felt nothing when I swiped my dagger to the one that was with his back towards me and cut his Achilles' tendon – I wouldn't kill anyone I didn't need to, but I couldn't stand and do nothing to help my friends.

A tingling feeling in the Veil warned me and I had to drop down to avoid a huge stone slab from hitting me straight in the chest. I barely had time to raise myself to my knees when I felt the familiar crackling of electricity for the first time in this place and my eyes caught sight of the next spell the mage threw at me: a ray of pure lightning. I didn't think: I stabbed a dagger on the ground and held the other in front of me, catching the electricity and offering it a quick way to the ground. I used my own focus to make sure it followed the provided path, turning my body into a conductor and keeping those electrons over my skin. It was painful, but it only fed my rage and my determination.

As soon as the barrage stopped I rose and threw one of the daggers at the mage. I only needed to disrupt his tenuous focus a bit, and it did it. I grabbed the Veil with both of my metaphysical hands and put my own will into keeping everything as it was, as I rushed towards him with my remaining dagger.

The blade of his pole-arm met my own and electricity sparked. My free hand closed to a fist and I decked him on the nose, which gave me an opening.

Landra – and an uncountable amount of movies and series – had remarked on the importance of stabbing from under the ribs and upwards. It was still surprising how little resistance was flesh to a well-sharpened blade, how it cut through him like butter. It felt like I wasn't the one doing the stabbing, like watching a movie in a strange first-person perspective, like playing with Kinect an Assassin's game. I screamed at the lightning at point-blank and pain once again cleared my head. I would have time to deal when he was dead and the bandits dealt with.

His slick hands hit against my head and made the world swim, but I grit my teeth and made the best to endure while I pulled back the blade and stabbed again. And again. And again.

Something hit my head from behind and I fell to the ground over the mage. Through the haze of adrenaline and pain, I chanced a glance up to see what looked like an axe coming my way. It moved as through water and avoiding it was a simple matter of rolling out of the way, even when I left my dagger behind. Sharp fear made everything clear again when I saw the axe rise once more, the arrow that hit the man's chest in the middle of the move making him stumble slightly, buying me a few seconds. I looked around and saw the pole-arm next to the still body of the mage, within my reach – it had a large blade in one end, kind of like a naginata only straight, and I didn't doubt.

It was in a perfect position already, the only thing I had to do is lift it up and the axe-man impaled himself on it. I pushed hard and used him as leverage to rise to my feet once more, looking around to see that all my friends were still on their feet and only a couple of bandits remained, growing desperate. One of them saw me and ran towards me, jumping with his bloodied dagger. He fell to the ground a couple of feet away, an arrow embedded on his neck.

A hand fell on my shoulder and I didn't think. I kicked the limp body of axe-man away from my new spear and turned, almost nauseatingly fast, fully intent on making a brochette out of whoever had touched me before they could skewer me, the fire in my nerves ready to explode outwards – consequences be damned – if I saw they were too close too fast. I couldn't stop the inertia of my swing when my brain processed that it was Galen behind me, but his reflexes were good enough to avoid it.

His lips moved, he was speaking to me though I couldn't hear him above the ringing in my ears. I wanted to let go of the weapon but my fingers were so tight around the wooden handle they were beginning to feel numb. My eyes wandered and I became hyper-aware of everything around me: the slick feel of blood in my hands, the blurring colours of people and decorations and blood, so much blood all around me, it's smell clogging my nose and even my mouth, turning my stomach. I closed my eyes, trying to refocus, and finding behind them the knowing eyes of the mage – was he dead? Would he tell on me? I needed to know!

I looked down. I had read descriptions of death in the past and seen movies where a character died. My grandpa had died when I was a child, and I had blown a man to pieces. A freshly dead body looked so very strange like he would rise up any moment but there was something, some uncanny feel that told me he wouldn't. His face was contracted in a terrified expression, his chest a nauseating mass of meat with blood bubbling slightly. I turned the other way and puked, the acrid smell of stomach acid more pleasant than that of blood. The spear clattered to the ground, the first real sound I heard since the end of the battle – and the rest came back like a deafening wave.

There was this hysterical cry, all gasping and babbling and it took me a second to realize it was me. Galen stepped back in front of me, his face calm and his moves slow, and he raised his hands to cup my cheeks, giving me a soft smile.

"Hey, it's over Ria. They won't hurt anyone now. We're safe. You did well."

Rationally I recognized that being praised over killing people of all things was not a good thing, and yet I couldn't help the feeling of relief that invaded me. If someone agreed that what I had done was not bad then it couldn't be so bad, right? He was reassuring me, using my name. He was holding me even though my hands were drenched in blood and I was a pathetic mess – even though I was a murderer, but then again, so were the others, weren't they?

I gave up and threw myself in his arms. He was so warm, so alive, and his comfort was so calming, so reassuring. It seemed I would make a habit out of holding onto pseudo-elves in times of stress.

Soon the rest of the company gathered around and we moved back to the inn. I didn't act on the wedding that noon, nor got out of my room or Galen's humanizing hug – I feared what would happen as soon as he moved away, terrified of myself and so I clung to him in every way I could think of.

So long as he remained I wouldn't have to be alone, and I wouldn't have to think what the satisfaction at my two kills meant. So long as he held me in his arms, I was still Marianna and not a monster.