The sun was sinking over the edge of the horizon by the time that Primrose and the rest of the group managed to escape the Sunshade tunnels. She hadn't seen a trace of the man with the crow tattoo since they started their expedition, and she was starting to fear that she had lost him. She knew where he was going at the very least, but Primrose was so fired up with adrenaline and rage that she wanted to take care of him then and there. Her dagger had seen enough monsters; it craved the blood of a monstrous crow.
Primrose was so distracted with looking around the area that she didn't even realize there was a person standing on top of the outcropping of rock that shielded Sunshade from the light of day on a regular basis. Her shoes were sinking into the sand as she made to escape when she heard a voice she wished that she could forget.
"And where might you be off to, kitten?"
Primrose froze. The rest of the group behind her gasped and shifted their vision up to Helgenish where he was standing alongside four of his underlings. They were all surrounding a figure that was impossible to make out from such a distance, but the silhouette of their leader was unmistakable. "Master... Helgenish..." Primrose whispered, trying to ignore her own breathless panting as she tried to calm her adrenaline from the thrill of an upcoming murder. "Whatever are you doing here at this hour?"
"Funny you should ask," Helgenish said, his voice lacking any of the twisted kindness that he had shown Primrose earlier that night as he cupped her cheek and thought of the disgusting things he was capable of doing to her. He tilted his head in the direction of the collapsed figure on the ground. "A worthless little stray, this one, but she was kind enough to help me catch a rat."
One of the lackeys kicked the figure forward, and a clipped groan was released into the dusk sky. Yusufa came into view, her blue top and skirt covered with blotchy stains of crimson. Her face was bruised, and her hair appeared as if it was on the verge of being torn out in a gruesome chunk. Her skin was littered with cuts and bruises from the beating that she had received at the hands of the men, and her eyes were barely able to open under the influence of her own terror and pain.
"Yusufa!" Primrose shouted, surprised by the emotion that had sunk its teeth into her voice. Ophilia gasped and reached for her staff, ready to use it at a moment's notice to ensure that Yusufa would survive. Primrose's stomach sank, and she wished for a brief moment that she never had to see that disgusting combination of blue and red ever again.
"Prim... I'm... I'm sorry..." Yusufa managed to choke out, her voice barely audible above the gentle yet ominous whisper of the desert winds. She tried to push herself off the ground, but her arms gave way beneath her a moment later, and she let out another breathless moan as her cheek made contact with the sand, exacerbating an injury on the side of her face.
"She was quite intent on keeping her mouth shut, but my boys helped her get it open," Helgenish explained, his voice painfully casual when he spoke of something as gruesome as beating Yusufa within an inch of her life. He hadn't been able to let her die before then, after all; if Yusufa died, there would be no explanation as to what happened with Primrose.
Primrose's mind flashed with past images of gruesome attacks at the hands of those that Helgenish referred to as his underlings. They were the ones who kept the dancers and the rest of Sunshade's occupants in line, ruling over the town with an iron fist and daggers in the shadows. She remembered past dancers who had been killed or left to bleed out on the streets as uncaring eyes shifted away, understanding that help would only lead to a slit throat or a stab to the chest. Such was the way of Sunshade, brutal and cruel in the face of atrocities that would make one's stomach churn to dust.
"It seems I was too lenient with the girl. I won't make that mistake again," Helgenish continued, his voice a cavalier drawl that made Primrose so angry she could spit. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cyrus preparing a spell even though they both knew that they wouldn't be able to reach Helgenish with any type of magic because of how far away he was.
Primrose saw the glint of steel at the last second, and she took a step forward despite knowing it was a fruitless effort. "No!" she cried out, but she couldn't stop what came next. None of them could.
Helgenish slashed the dagger across Yusufa's side, opening a wide gash where she had already been littered with wounds. Her scream ruptured the air, echoing endlessly before falling silent.
"Yusufa!" Primrose screamed, her heart skipping a beat. This couldn't be happening again. How could history be repeating itself in the most gruesome way possible? She had seen somebody that she cared for die once already, so why the hell did it have to happen a second time?
The revelation hit her like a dagger to the stomach, and it almost made Primrose sick for a dozen reasons she would never be able to define.
I care about Yusufa.
Helgenish's foot slammed into Yusufa's side, and her body was sent falling down to the sands below. She let out a groan before falling still, the only sign that she was alive the desperate rise and fall of her chest. Primrose dropped to her knees, one arm curling around Yusufa's head. Ophilia collapsed into the sand beside her, staff raised as she tried to heal Yusufa's injuries. The magic refused to settle no matter what she tried, and Primrose heard a strangled sob escape Ophilia's lips from beside her.
"P-Prim... I've never... Heard you... Shout so..." Yusufa murmured, her eyes slipping to half-mast. Primrose slipped her fingers between Yusufa's, and their grips clenched against one another as if the gesture would somehow save them from this nightmare.
"What?! This is no time to...!" Primrose whispered, feeling tears start to well up in her eyes. Why did all of this have to happen? Why hadn't she seen it sooner that she cared about Yusufa? How could fate possibly be so cruel?
"It's not working...!" Ophilia murmured, her voice terrifying in its panic. She continued to wave her staff around, desperately trying to force the healing magic to settle into the injury, but the spell refused to find a home on Yusufa's body. Primrose knew what this meant. She had heard long ago that healing magic worked under nearly all circumstances, but there was one gruesome exception.
Healing magic could not bring salvation to those who were actively dying.
Yusufa seemed to have come to this conclusion as well, and her tear-filled eyes locked with Primrose's as she forced herself to speak. "Hey... Prim...?" she questioned softly. "We're... Friends... Aren't we...?" Primrose could barely bring herself to speak, so Yusufa continued. She was openly sobbing from both the overwhelming pain and her own sorrow. "I was... I was sold... To this place... As a child... Everyone was so cruel... So miserable... I thought I'd never... Make any... Friends... It was... Lonely... Having no one... But you... Prim... You were different... Always... Standing tall... Proud... No matter how... Hard your days... Looking at you... It gave me... Strength..."
"Yusufa..." Primrose whispered. She couldn't tell if she was overly aware of the fact that this was where Yusufa's path was ending or if she wasn't aware of it at all. Ophilia's expression had lost all sense of hope, as if some familiar sense of helplessness was suddenly taking her under its wing and she had no ability to escape its brutal grasp. Cyrus, Tressa, and Olberic stood behind the three girls, read to lash out with everything they had the second that Helgenish came down from his cowardly perch so high above them.
"Tell me... Prim..." Yusufa choked out. Her grip tightened against Primrose's fingers weakly. "Were we... Were we friends...?"
The use of past tense hit Primrose like a punch to the stomach. She knew that it was true, and that was the part that hurt. "Yes, Yusufa... You were... My friend..." she confirmed, wishing that she had come to this revelation sooner. How could she have been so emotionally incompetent that she didn't realize something that was right in front of her? Primrose wanted to slap herself, but more than that, she wanted to destroy Helgenish for putting her in this situation in the first place.
The smile on Yusufa's face was almost nauseating with how genuine it was, and Primrose couldn't help but silently and tragically commend her friend's ability to keep her heart positive even in times of such strife. "I'm so... Happy... Not... Alone... Anymore..."
When Yusufa's eyes fell shut a moment later, her pulse fluttered away from beneath Primrose's grasp. Still, the dancer found herself fumbling in search of some sign that would make this seem like it was nothing more than a nightmare. She knew that it was real, but part of her still wanted to believe that perhaps it didn't have to end this way after all.
Primrose stared silently at Yusufa's all too still face before she was forced to raise her head by the sound of a familiar but sickening voice. "Is it finally over? I must say, at least her final performance had some life," Helgenish scoffed. Olberic snarled from his place behind Primrose. "If she'd shown that sort of potential earlier, I might have kept her on longer..."
"Enough."
Primrose rose slowly to her feet, doing her best to ignore the feeling of sticky crimson staining her skin and outfit. Or perhaps she wasn't ignoring it at all; maybe she was embracing it, and that was the reason that she was so upset. She reached for her dagger from its place hidden beneath her skirt, and the silver glinted in the sunshine as she poised it up in Helgenish's direction.
"What was that?" Helgenish asked, his voice a domineering threat as he tried to do what he was best at: putting 'kittens' back in their places. He took a step towards the edge of the outcrop, eyes locked solely on Primrose and the blade in her hand.
"I have danced enough for you," Primrose growled. "This was the last night that I belonged to you." She imagined how lovely it was bound to feel to stab the dagger straight into Helgenish's chest, to memorize the splatter of the blood of the man that had murdered Yusufa in cold blood for his own amusement and sickening desires.
"Oh, was it now?" Helgenish questioned, almost entertained with Primrose's show of defiance. "So some wheels do turn in that pretty little head of yours... Here I thought it a waste as empty as the desert."
"I saw you for the foul swine you are the first time I laid eyes on you," Primrose said, her voice so even that it did little to match the rage that was boiling over inside of her stomach. The desert shadows started to swirl as per her every command, ready to lash out and strike the instant that she gave them permission.
"You would take that tone with me?!" Helgenish snarled. His hands clenched into fists, and his face grew red under the influence of his anger. "You're nothing but a stupid whore! You would have died on the street if not for me!"
Primrose raised her dagger in his direction, eyes narrowing. "You have given me nothing," she replied, her voice eerily strong yet quiet at the same time. "I have always danced on my own two feet. I have always chosen where I step."
"Who do you think you're speaking to, whore?!" Helgenish exploded. He started to storm down the outcropping, his soldiers hot on his heels. His reminder of practicality and keeping his distance from the fighters below had been overpowered by his rage towards Primrose's scalding words, it seemed.
"All these years..." Primrose murmured, her eyes twisted and her lips curled as if she were looking at nothing more than dirt on the bottom of her sandal. "The jeers, the beatings, the dishonor... I endured it all. All for this day. The day that man appeared before me. I need your stage no longer. I dance for myself now.
"Primrose..." Helgenish growled. He shook his head a moment later, his face still red as could be. "You forget yourself, little kitten. But I understand-this is just your little show, yes? You wanted to see your master frown. Fine! Very well! You've had your fun! That naughty mouth of yours belongs to me! Put it where it belongs, and if you please me to my satisfaction, I will overlook your impertinence."
Helgenish was on the same level as Primrose now, his soldiers curled around him to create the show of five against five. Ophilia, Cyrus, Tressa, and Olberic were all poised for the battle that they knew was coming, eyes locked squarely on Primrose and the moment when she was bound to give the signal. The dancer glared up at Helgenish as she scoffed and gave her response to his kind offer. "Master... Go pleasure yourself," she told him simply.
"Wrong answer, kitten," Helgenish snarled down at her. "You know what I do with cats that bite, don't you? I put them down. Just like that one. It's a shame, Primrose... You were always my favorite. What a waste." He reached for the dagger that he had used to steal Yusufa's life and leveled it in Primrose's direction. The silver was still stained with rusted scarlet. "Yes... A terrible, terrible shame..."
Primrose scoffed and shook her head, raising her sword and allowing the shadows to finally heed her call. "The only shame... Is that I could not do this sooner, Master!" she shouted. The darkness of the dusky sands converged upon Helgenish and his men, the calling moment to show that the moment had come where his life was going to be stripped from his pathetic body until there was nothing left to show that he had ever drawn breath in the first place.
The playing field was even between Helgenish and his quartet of lackeys and Primrose and the quartet of travelers that she had picked up in an improvised dash. She was glad to have the backup, though she kept as many of them behind her as possible as she lunged in the direction of the soldiers. She released another veil of darkened skies over the lackeys, forcing them all to stumble, before stabbing her dagger in Helgenish's direction. She deflected a matching slash of his knife before getting in another hit, though she was forced to retreat hastily after the fact, each breath rattling her chest cavity without any sense of mercy or remorse.
Tressa let out a mighty cry with all of the rage that she could contain in her body, and a powerful tempest swept through the area a moment later, knocking all of the soldiers off balance immediately. Olberic rushed towards them next, closing his eyes before his sword started to glow with the power of some unknown technique. Soon afterwards, a large projection of a sword swept through the crowd of Helgenish's lackeys, dealing another significant blow to them. Cyrus whispered something under his breath before releasing a gale of magic similar to what Tressa had demonstrated a few short moments previously.
Helgenish didn't seem to care at all about the other fighters in the area, and his gaze remained locked squarely on Primrose. He rushed toward her with his dagger drawn, and their blades clashed roughly before Ophilia released an attack using her light magic to send him stumbling backwards. Helgenish swore under his breath at the spell that knocked him backwards, and he thrust one hand through the air.
The shadows that had previously been under Primrose's dominion started to shift to Helgenish's desires, and they fell heavily atop the group of five that dared to stand against him. Primrose glared before the grief in her heart became too much for her to bear, and the darkness was immediately back under her influence. She let out a cry of anger, and the shadows shifted before hitting Helgenish and all four of his lackeys with much more force than she had ever thought possible. Primrose knew that she had grown stronger since the loss of her father, both from an emotional and physical standpoint, but this was much more than she had imagined herself to be capable of. She knew that her grief and unreleased emotions were responsible for her outbursts of magic and the slashes of her dagger, but she couldn't bring herself to care in the slightest. This was what she needed. This was what she had to do in Yusufa's name.
The other soldiers that had surrounded Helgenish were knocked off guard by the heavy attack of shadow magic that Primrose had brought down upon them, and this left a perfect weakness in their defenses. Tressa released another attack of wind magic with Cyrus following up soon afterwards. Olberic was hit in the arm by a haphazard slash of a blade, but he didn't mind the attack much. His sword started to glow once more a moment later, and that was all that it took for two of Helgenish's underlings to go down. The art of the blade had stolen their lives, leaving two corpses bleeding on the sand on top of Yusufa's body a few yards away.
Helgenish seemed less bothered over the fact that people had died in his name than one might have expected, and instead, his rage remained directed solely at Primrose. "Know your place!" he roared when she attempted to hit her with a mighty blow that was clearly infused with some type of shadowy magic. Primrose did what she could to get out of the way, but Helgenish had caught her by surprise while she was paying attention to the fall of the two soldiers that Olberic had taken care of. As such, she was hit square in the chest by the pair of brutal attacks of shadow magic, sending her sliding backwards through the sand as she struggled to stand her ground.
Ophilia was quick to come up behind Primrose once more, her staff raised into the air. The injuries of the party were healed regardless of their severity, ranging from the pain in Primrose's abdomen to the cut in Olberic's upper arm. Nobody had the chance to grant her thanks, but it was clear that the sentiment was understood. Ophilia rushed towards Helgenish as soon as she had offered her healing magic, and with a swift hit of her staff, Helgenish was sent stumbling, his pursuit of Primrose brought to a screeching halt due to the blow to the back of his head. Something sticky and crimson came back on his fingers when he examined the injury, and his rage only grew.
Helgenish lashed out with a slash of his blade, but Ophilia ducked low to keep from taking the hit. Cyrus was quick to ensure that Ophilia would be able to get away, thrusting one hand against the sandy winds to create an attack of ice that knocked Helgenish as far away from her as possible. Ophilia spared Cyrus a glance over her shoulder out of gratitude, but the fight pressed on regardless, starting with Primrose sinking her dagger in deep to Helgenish's shoulder. The man roared in pain, but Primrose had yanked the knife free and retreated before he could do anything to hurt her. He refused to drop his blade even though his dominant arm had been injured to such a degree, and his eyes took on an almost crazed quality as they watched Primrose from afar.
Nearby, Tressa stabbed forward with her spear at one of the remaining two lackeys, striking him in the stomach. Olberic finished the job with a jab of his own lance before he turned in the direction of the final man in the area that worked for Helgenish. Once again, Olberic was able to end the life of his foe swiftly, and two more bodies began to contribute to staining the sand scarlet. With the rest of the underlings taken care of, Tressa and Olberic shifted their attention in the direction of the one person who deserved the full force of their rage: Helgenish himself.
Helgenish's face was starting to grow pale as a result of the wound that Primrose had dealt to him. The previous color that had flooded his features as a result of his boiling rage was starting to disappear for all the right reasons: he wasn't going to be able to survive many other hits like that. If they kept up on the offensive, the travelers would be able to finish the battle swiftly.
Tressa released an arrow shot that forced Helgenish to drop his dagger when his fingers were struck. He nursed the injury with his other hand but was unable to stop the lance that stabbed at his arm from Olberic. Cyrus flicked his wrist against the wind, and ice once again began to mount in spite of the desert sands that surrounded the area. Ophilia's staff was set by her side as she pressed her hand to the sky, releasing a powerful explosion of light that stole Helgenish's vision and sent him crumbling to his knees.
Helgenish was so distracted by trying to keep himself upright that he didn't notice the fact that Primrose was upon him until it was too late. His eyes went wide as he looked up at her, but Primrose refused to yield even as Helgenish was shown for the coward that he truly was. For all of his screaming and powerful talk, he was a pathetic creature deep down, and she intended to make sure that he knew it until the moment when he breathed his last. "This is for Yusufa," Primrose whispered, her voice dangerous and low as she stabbed her dagger down into Helgenish's stomach. When she pulled her blade free and retreated, she knew that the fight was as good as finished. Helgenish wouldn't be surviving much longer with his injuries, and there was no way that he would be able to replenish his strength. He was as good as dead, and Primrose was deserting him to understand the same fate that he had visited upon so many of his dancers in the past. One of his 'kittens' had finally scratched back, and it would be his undoing.
Helgenish had fallen into the sand when he spoke next. "Primrose..." The desert was being stained with blood in the dim light of the dusk, and the only true source of illumination was the ominous glow of the Ember from its place hooked around Ophilia's belt. "You always were... Different from the rest... The fire in your eyes... It burned brighter than any other's ever could... I have seen many a girl in my years... But none... Quite like you... You fascinated me... From the start..." He attempted to push himself to his feet, though all he succeeded in doing was moving forward by a few inches through the desert. "Come, Primrose... Won't you dance... One last time for me...?"
Primrose turned in false contemplation, though the rest of the group's eyes remained locked on Helgenish just to ensure that he didn't try anything. However, Helgenish was completely ignorant to their thoughts, and he managed to recover his dagger amidst the grains of sand before lunging towards Primrose. Ophilia cried out in surprise with Tressa yelping and staggering backwards by a foot.
But Primrose was one step ahead of them. She flashed her own dagger through the dusky light, and all it took was a single stab to the throat for Helgenish's eyes to go wide as he crumpled into the sand. There was so much blood in the area that it was hard to believe the sands had been pristine before this performance of life and death began a short while prior. Primrose looked down at Helgenish's body with silent detachment, uncaring as to the fact that she had just taken another human's life without remorse. She had been dreaming of this day for so long that it didn't even feel real that he was gone, but she took some twisted sense of pride from it regardless.
"Quite the dancer yourself in the end," Primrose murmured to herself. Her heart began to sink into her stomach at the recollection that all of this was only happening because Helgenish had turned his attention towards Yusufa as a way of getting to Primrose. He was dead, but at what cost? She had finally realized that she was not alone, that there were people who cared about her, but it was gone before she could ever come to enjoy it. Helgenish was the one responsible, and even if he had paid with his life, Primrose knew that it would never be enough to close the gaping hole at her core where Yusufa had once been.
"And with that, Master... I do believe my debt is paid," Primrose declared. She wiped off his blood on his clothing after crouching down beside him, so casual about a gruesome task that it was almost terrifying. The rest of the group watched on in silence as Primrose returned to her full height and shoved her dagger back in its sheath beneath her skirt. The fabric of her dancer's costume was still stained with blood from both Yusufa and Helgenish, but she didn't acknowledge it openly, almost afraid of what might happen if she did.
Instead, Primrose walked over to where Yusufa's body could be found. She crouched down beside the empty shell that had once held the soul of one of the greatest people that she had ever found in this life. Her eyes filled with sad tears, but she didn't bother to wipe the water away as it started to stream down her cheeks. "Yusufa... We are free at last... My friend."
The next hour and a half was a blur, and Primrose couldn't tell if she wasn't going to remember any of it or if she was going to remember all of it.
Yusufa was given an improvised grave just outside the entrance to the caves. Olberic had helped her to dig it, and Yusufa was laid to rest for the final time in the very place where she had taken her final breath. Helgenish and his underlings were not granted this dignity, left to remain in the sands themselves. The vultures and monsters of the region would have their way with the remnants of the despicable men that had run Sunshade for so many years, and Primrose couldn't care in the slightest.
She was given the chance to change out of her dancer's garb, but she stared down at the bloodstained clothing for far longer than she had any right to. In the end, she had brought the outfit along after throwing together a few spare costumes for the journey. She would be able to get better clothing in other towns, but Sunshade sure as hell wasn't going to offer what she needed for her journey to Stillsnow. She would cross that bridge when she got to it.
Primrose had opened her pouch and stared down at the handkerchief that Yusufa had given her earlier that evening, back before either one of them knew what it was like to taste blood and horror under the influence of Helgenish's gruesome actions. Primrose watched the fabric for a long time, unsure as to what she thought was going to happen next. Part of her feared that it was going to drip between her fingers like ash on the wind the same way that Yusufa had. Instead, it remained poised in her grasp even as tears began to stream down her face once again.
She had found the man of the crow. She had saved the dancers of Sunshade from Helgenish's grasp. She had brought Yusufa the salvation and friendship that she desired. But at what cost? Why did it feel like she would never be able to escape this pain?
The concept of traveling with Ophilia, Cyrus, Tressa, and Olberic just felt natural to her. Primrose didn't know how to define why, but she felt as if it had something to do with the fact that the four of them felt so much like family to her. They were unfamiliar, but she knew that she was going to come to care about them. She had realized the truth too late with Yusufa, but she wasn't going to allow such a chance to pass her by again. Primrose had been given a breath of love in Yusufa's dying moments, and she wanted to cling to that if she could. The truth of her identity and mission remained elusive to the ears of her companions, but all would come to light soon enough. She was sure of that much.
Sunshade was little more than an outline on the horizon as Primrose looked back at the shattered figment of the town that had taken so much from her. She and the rest of the group would be sleeping in the wilderness away from any towns that night, too damaged by what they had witnessed to linger overnight. That was fine with Primrose. It was her first step away from the past and towards the future.
From that moment on, every step was going to be taken in honor of Yusufa as well as Geoffrey Azelhart. A new act was beginning, and Primrose was going to follow this show of daggers and vengeance and blood and feathers to its bitter end no matter what.
Faith would be her shield.
That one made me sad. Yusufa deserved better, and Helgenish deserved worse.
With this chapter done though, Primrose's first chapter is done! After the depressing storm that the past eight chapters have been, we'll be getting into Alfyn's story next time, and it'll be much more fun and lighthearted. You know, relatively. That's bound to be fun and certainly less heavy than this chapter and its predecessors have been.
The last scene of this chapter wound up being one of my favorites in the story thus far, and I couldn't even really tell you why. It just sort of happened that way, and I love it. Poor Primrose. She's going to have lots of trauma after this (you know, even more than she already does have). At least she's got a found family now to help her through it. She deserves that much, and the rest of the group does too.
I'm going to leave this chapter here so that I can go off and take care of other things (and maybe stop being sad over how depressing this chapter was). For the time being though, I hope that you all enjoyed. Next time, we'll jump right into Alfyn's chapter one. Feedback is appreciated as always. Have a nice day, everyone!
-Digital