The Fallen captain had died quickly, the head having been blown off by a weapon of large caliber. There were ashes as well, that marked the ground around the dead captain, he could only guess they were other Eliksni. The rain continued to pour around them in the dead of night, and his helmet light was fighting against the rain.

His ghost hummed. "We can at least be certain that the person we are following is a lightbearer like you." There was a whirr as the ghost morphed into existence by his head. "There is no way any other surviving wanderers could cause this much carnage."

The hunter glanced up at the parked Ketch still looming over him. The engines had been thoroughly mangled, rings, and wires hanging from the ensuing blast. And dead fallen littered the ground outside of the ketch's lowering platforms.

But the trail continued after the carnage.

And where the trail continued, there was a fallen impaled on a spear.

A warning.

"I agree." The light in his helmet continued to pierce the rain around him as he continued to look around. "Anything salvageable?"

His ghost nodded. "I've marked some things for you to scrounge together." And it disappeared once again in a flash. "I believe I'm starting to regret encouraging you to follow this trail to its end."

Isson kicked open a crate of glimmer and allowed his ghost to store it. His eyes flicked to the warning where her trail picked up again. "Too late now. Now that I know they're a lightbearer, I feel it's even more imperative that we catch up to them."

He could imagine his ghost nodding overdramatically. "Yes, but why won't you take my new found advice this time? Not all lightbearers are the friendliest you know?"

The hunter said nothing as he turned back towards the trail. "This night march will mean nothing if we don't press ahead." He frowned beneath his helmet. "I can only act based upon information I've been given." He would've sent his ghost a glare. "Explain to me, how I am supposed to know that not all lightbearers are friendly, after waking up knowing next to nothing about the world I'm currently in?"

I don't know what else I was to expect.

Isson paused, lightening up the only path they could've taken. "Besides they already know we are on their trail. And they've preferred to leave the warning rather than wait to kill us in ambush. I say that's a step up from the Fallen."

His ghost made a displeased noise.

And he didn't care. "Let's get going."

#

There was a clearing come the morning. One that Isson refused to cross, he stared at the tree line and buildings that were gapped across from him. Where night could once have protected him, there was only the rising sun of an early morning. Caution had been warranted, as the mind of many dead fallen was stuck into his brain. The precision of well-placed shots was so natural, that even he would consider himself lucky.

This is a perfect spot for them to wait.

The rain too had subsided, and any advantage he might've had due to that had vanished once more with it. He flicked free his handcanon. Laying on the ground just beneath his fingers. "If I had that sniper rifle, finished I might be able to make something with this."

Husker hummed. "There is still some additional glimmer we need to finish it." It clicked somewhere in his head. "But I agree...it would be useful to have a sight to see better with it. The vandal rifle will have to do for now it seems."

Isson pulled free the rifle from his back, eyes narrowing. The rifle, as a weapon, had not been modified slightly. It had a more powerful shot, that could kill a fallen one in a single shot. But he wasn't about to try his luck on whoever was waiting for him.

He peeked out, and a shot cracked through the area.

And when he opened his eyes, they scanned the trees and rundown buildings across the road. Isson blinked. The sun was higher, and it was near noon. He didn't move, and he spoke quietly. "How long have I been dead?"

"Four hours. Had to be sure that they couldn't see me when I revied you."

Isson remained motionless for a moment longer. At this point, he trusted his ghost on timely revives. Husker wouldn't have waited that long without any reason. He was still, motionless on the ground. In the same position, he'd collapsed in. It was uncomfortable to be sure, but it was this, or possibly get his head blown off again.

Thankfully he died, facing the direction of his killer. His eyes scanned the treeline and buildings across the road.

Whoever it was, was a crack shot.

He frowned beneath his helmet.

But four hours was a long time.

Finally, movement. A figure, with a helmet of white and green, stepped free of the tree line. A long rifle in their hand, gleaming gold in the sunlight. Against the green of her uniform, a white tree painted across her chest plate. A fur collar circling their neck, and a plum to top her helm.

She.

The word came to his mind unbidden, it's meaning half absent. A word he wanted to use to describe them somehow. She had some curves beneath the armor, the slits in her helmet were still directly on him. As she watched him for any sign of living or breathing.

Knight.

Another word, meaning half absent, but enough present rushing to the forefront of his mind. This one seemed more fitting. Somehow they both worked in tandem to make up his thoughtful description of her. A she-knight. With a long golden rifle in her hand, a cloak, and a white tree to mark her chest piece, different from anything he'd ever come across before.

She stepped free from the tree line still half ready for a fight, helmet flicking side to side as she stalked closer to him.

And then her ghost flickered as they came to a stop a few meters. Away.

They truly were another lightbearer.

The lady knight spoke first. "See? I don't miss." Her voice light, and airy. Something that he would've associated with fun...perhaps even playful, if not for the recent shot through the head. Her posture started to relax a bit, the end of her long rifle near the ground. Though she switched up to something smaller. Another rifle, but of a marksmen variety.

A scout rifle. Husker showed me an engram of one. But nothing as beautiful as either of those two weapons.

Her ghost laughed. "The only reason you don't miss is that you practice way too hard." Its eye lifted a bit. "It's concerning to Jholder."

She shifted to look at her ghost, then back to the body. Her voice quieter, "I thought he was a lightbearer sent by Daric to kill us." She made a noise that sounded disgusted. "That arrogant, cruel, fascistic, shit. He is sending normal people after us now." She shook her head and her fingers curled around her newer, smaller gun.

Her ghost floated by her head staring at her in silence. "Lady Effridiet?"

There was a moment of silence.

Her ghost continued. "I know you were hoping that the scene at the ketch would've chased them off...I'm sorry."

The knight's voice turned to iron. "Daric dies."

Isson's lips twitched as he angled a boot.

Effridiet held up her hand and quickly brought it back down. "Ghost!"

The hunter kicked off the tree he'd fallen aside, his propulsion with the extra light sent him skidding into the street and he fired his handcanon. Both hands twice in her direction. He rolled upright, ready to fire again.

Whatever white barrier that had been protecting her was gone.

But she'd followed him in his movement all the way her scout rifle angle high above his head, ready to be brought down.

Isson huffed, and crossed his arms, catching the butt of the gun on his vambraces. "Shit."

Lady Effridiet was quick, with his crossed arms, she reached for his gun, no longer pointing at her. Her fingers gripped gun wrist, the inside arm of his cross defense, and twisted it to keep it to bind his other arm.

And as his block was moved away, the scout rifle's barrel aim perfected.

The hunter kicked again, this time, kicking Effiridet directly in her shins.

The aim was knocked, once more, as she fell to a knee with a grunt.

She reversed her grip on his gun hand, and twisted more violently in the opposite direction, and sent his handcanon free, skidding across the ground.

Out of reach for the fight.

And from her position on down on her knee, she jumped up,and into Isson. Her arm grabbed his shoulder and used him to swing herself around.

But whirled him around too and he had no choice but to follow her movement because if he'd planted his feet, she would've been behind him. Isson dug his arm beneath her's to shrug her grip off.

She kicked his legs.

And he backed up a step, drawing his knife.

Effridiet growled, catching the knife at the edge of her scout rifle. "You'll pay for what you did!" She twisted her rifle to drag his knife away.

Isson backed up a step, something he regretted as the scout rifle shot whizzed past his head. His hood got blown off with the movement. He blocked a short jab coming for his chest, throwing it off to the side.

But he saw the point of it after.

He'd been pushed away.

She leveled her gun and got him square in the chest.

His shield flicked, and he dove back in towards her. Not intent to give her that opportunity again. But, this time it wasn't as ferocious as his previous attacks. He focused more on a very tight, and close defense rather than trying to hit at her.

Something I did?

Effiridet twisted around, getting lung swept his legs out from under him.

Isson heard the 'shring' of another knife being pulled free, he grunted with the impact on his back. He used his jump again, to slide out from underneath. He heard the shots going into the ground, and he flipped the grip of his knife.

She leveled her scout rifle and a shot rang out.

His shield was gone.

His knife dug into her shoulder,

"Agh!"

And then there was a lull, as they stood less than five feet apart.

Isson asked openly, his voice calm, collected, and low and gravelly. "Something I did?"

Effridiet straightened, the knife still tucked in her shoulder. She didn't say anything for a moment. Then her fist glowed with lightning. A thrum of energy striking through the air. She leaped towards him. And paused just out of range, as she cocked her fist back. Effridiet's arm had an electrical storm trialing from her knuckles to her elbow.

He knew he had to move, and he leaped sideways. But whatever it was he still caught the edge of it. Something burned his left half. And when he landed he was more wounded. And he heard a couple of clicks.

"You're better than most sent after me, I'll give you that."

Effirideit got close, and shoved her knife into his arm, and lifted him.

He hissed and leaned down, butting her with all his strength.

That did stagger her, as her helmet was knocked loose.

So was his, half off.

It blocked his vision now, so with his unwounded hand he plucked it up and tossed to the side, knife still drawn. He pulled her knife free of his arm. He was crouched onto a knee and he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Her hair was blonde, and braided, hanging over the fur collar of her cloak. Her eyes held fury, the airy playfulness of her voice had vanished. "Stay down."

His mouth twisted, knowing he had a second knife in his boot. But he couldn't reach it now. It would've been too obvious of a movement to not earn him a shot to the head. He sighed his black hair dangling down, some of the loose strands being caught in the wind. "One question."

She raised a brow.

"Who's Darric?"

There was a beat of silence and some laughter. There was that slight enjoyment he'd caught earlier. The airiness to her voice. "You're kidding with me right?" She flexed her fingers over her scout rifle. She raised an eyebrow at him. "You can't talk you way out of this."

Isson's eyes widened. "You shot me first."

"You were following." She retorted.

He blinked and pressed his mouth into a line. His mouth twitched as he searched for the right words. Something in which he could be honest with her. "You're the first." He settled with. And he almost winced at the sound of his voice.

She was silent.

Isson sighed. "You are the first person I've seen. Who is Darric?" He slowly held his hands up, hoping it a gesture that he wasn't going to reach for the knife in his boot. Now that there was a lull he wanted to make sure they didn't fall to blows again. With his hands held up near his head. He tried to make it more obvious. "I won't fight back."

Effridiet made a noise. "You already did." Some of the light playfulness having found its way back." Her weapon was still leveled towards him. "Why would you do that if your intention was…" She tilted her head a bit, her blonde braid falling from the collar. "...interaction."

He raised an eyebrow. "You shot me in the head as I recall."

There was a beat of silence and her more serious demeanor cracked a bit. She lowered her weapon and laughed a few times. "You're right on that count." She straightened up from her crouch and sighed. The light airy voice, the fun had seemed to return. "I guess I am getting paranoid."

Well, at least the fight is over.

Isson lowered his hands and let out a sigh of relief. He leaned over a bit holding his numbing arm. One look at it and he knew, if the fight had gone on any longer, she would have won. He gingerly let go of his injury, trusting his ghost to heal the wound when he left the safety of his body.

She's more experienced. Been here longer.

There was a pause from Effridiet as she stowed her scout rifle away. "If you show me yours, I'll show you mine." She held up her hand and her ghost appeared. Her ghost was an interesting design, green, white, and gold, different from the plain shell that Husker had.

Effridiet's ghost stalked closer. "See, I told you they were a lightbearer."

\Husker morphed out too.

It was her ghost that flew around Husker and Isson to study them. "Just how new to all

of this, are you?" She paused near Husker. "Because you managed to scratch my lightbearer and that is more difficult than you think."

Husker straightened, feeling like his choice was validated. "Not long. I found him on the other side of the range. Made him come this way." His lightbearer held up their arm, and Husker washed a flush of light over it healing it up properly.

Effridiet offered her hand to Isson.

He took it, and let her pull him up to his feet, and he glanced down at her, edging out her height only by a couple of inches. He blinked and then bowed his head slightly still holding onto her hand. "Nice to meet you Effirdiet."

That playfulness returned, and she bowed her head in turn, a smile touching her lips. "Nice to meet you as well…" Her eyes narrowed. "You overheard my ghost."

Isson nodded. "I did. I'm going by Isson." He gestured to his ghost. "Husker and I decided we should call each other by names, so that way we didn't get confused."

She let go of his hand and took a couple of steps back. "Yeah, we did something similar." Her blue eyes flicked away. "Though, I was discovered by…" She paused, her eyes narrowing again. "Others and they helped me to sort that out by helping me choose." Effridiet paused for a moment. "Nice to meet you too Isson. Sorry about the…" She awkwardly gestured to the sniper rifle. "Introductions."

Isson scoffed. "A better intro than I normally get from the fallen. You introduced yourself." He backed up a few paces and plucked up his helmet from the ground.

Effridiet laughed, as she retrieved her knife. "My friends are wearing off on me I guess." She shoved her knife back into its sheath. "They're the knightly honorable sort." She paused for a moment and spied Isson's gun, that she'd thrown off to the side. She glanced his way, and then picked it up. "Huh, not bad. This your first piece?"

Husker was the one who answered. "Not technically. We stole our first weapons off fallen." His ghost floated towards her. "Though this is the first gun we manage to put together ourselves."

And I doubt it will be the last.

Effridet hummed. "A few quick modifications and I think this could serve you well until you scrounge up enough parts to make something better." She flipped it with a toss and offered Isson the handle.

Isson did his best to hide his weariness, but thankfully she didn't seem to notice, or rather she didn't seem to care. He gingerly took the weapon back, giving it a once over. "I'll bear that in mind." He holstered the gun back to his hip and retrieved his knife. The one she'd pulled out and left on the floor.

There was an awkward silence to follow between them, unsure of what to say next.

Thankfully, their ghosts were way ahead of either of them. Making sure that the ice that was broken stayed broken. Her ghost was quick-witted, and started poking and prodding Husker. She floated uncomfortably close, into Husker's personal space.

"I'm Jeanne!" She flipped so she was flying beside Husker.

If they had arms, Isson imagined that Jeanne would've draped an arm over Husker's shoulders making gestures with her other hand as they walked side by side. It brought a smile to his lips. And as he looked passed the two ghosts.

He could see a small smile touching Efrideet's lips too, as she plucked up her helmet from the ground, brushing dirt off its plume.

Husker almost shivered. "Uh, hi I'm Husker?"

"So what's your lightbearer like. Is he funny? Is he was cracking? Does he have other friends." Jeanne got closer. "Oooh. What's his fallen kill count at." She made a scoffing noise. "Wait don't answer that last one. Mine's got a higher one."

His ghost blinked. "Yes, sometimes, no, and I'll take that last bet."

Isson tucked his helmet under his arm for a moment and straightened his cloak. He walked around the chatting ghosts in a quarter circle. Where he met Effridiet. They stood side by side as they watched their ghosts interact. He raised an eyebrow towards her. "Is Jeanne always like this? Typically?"

Effrideet shook her head. "No, only when she meets a new ghost for the first time." She looked up at him a bit and gave a nod. "She likes exchanging stories. As do I." The sun was arching lower now. "Come, we can hole up nearer the city center." She rubbed her knuckles awkwardly. "Uh, I'm sure you have plenty of questions. And I'll answer what I can."

He nodded. "I'm sure you do too." He tilted his head. "Though, I'm betting nowhere near my significant amount."

She covered her mouth, her shoulders shook, as a few chuckles escaped her lips. "Yes, I'm very certain of that." A small whistle was made. "Alright, you two, form up, you can chat between us." She turned to Isson. "Would you mind taking point?" Efrideet's eyes flicked away a bit. "It's...I'd rather have you in front."

Isson gave a single nod. "Trust is in short supply."

There was a bit quiet as she took a step back, his comment going unanswered. She unhooked her scout rifle and placed her helmet back on. "I'll give a holler if I see either a place to hold up or an enemy."

"I'll do the same."

#

They encountered no trouble as they made their way through the ruins of the suburban city. It was for the best, as Effridet and Isson only had silence between them, but their ghosts wouldn't stop chatting the entire journey. Isson spared a glance over his shoulder at the ghosts and the figures behind him.

I never would've pegged Husker as a talker.

But the ghost had responded eagerly to Jeanne's constant chatting. Perhaps he was like her. Quiet right up until they could exchange stories. It would make some sense. He could listen to them exchanging notes and advice, that would no doubt be lectured into their lightbearers as soon as they could get them alone.

Effridiet was quiet, beneath her helmet as they moved through the city. But it was easy to tell she had a lingering eye on him. Now and then, when Isson would make a glance over his shoulder when he paused to look down a street, there was a quick movement to look away or to look elsewhere. Other times she didn't care, she pretty much kept her helmet facing towards him.

All that to say, she was keeping watch. Both on her surroundings, and him.

They settled for the night in the open room of a third-story apartment complex. There was a rusted gate half fallen over, half held upright as nature was taking over. The roof was destroyed, but they could still make a space for themselves. Isson created a circle of stones, and dirt, and about six inches of dirt in a pile. From there he started finding some firewood.

Their ghosts were exploring the rest of their floor looking for useful things, leaving the two of them to themselves. Effridet avoided his eyes, letting the silence sit between them for a while longer. Her eyes instead focused on his hands making the fire pit, so their little shelter for the night wouldn't burn down. "If you're staying with me," She started awkwardly, rubbing her knuckles. "This will be the last night for fires." She glanced at her helmet sitting on the counter by his, then they flicked back to Isson.

Isson looked up at the last of the fired wood placed, he met her eyes briefly. He nodded softly in understanding. He too didn't want to attract the wrong kind of attention. But it seemed that she was more familiar with the direction they were heading. For him, it was all the confirmation he needed that someone or something could find them.

He clicked a few things together and dropped a small bit of jell he'd collected from the fallen. It was purple, and he didn't understand fully what it was. But it worked wonders, and all it took was a spark, and the small fire had been started, with the wood positioned to prevent it from dying away quickly. Now that he'd finished he looked up her way again.

This time she didn't shy away, her expression expectant. She repositioned her braid to hang over her collar, down her chest, leaning back into the wall.

Isson still wasn't certain he was staying. Effridiet seemed nice enough, but there was still an edge to her. He wanted more to the story before he decided that he might. Otherwise, they could exchange information, as his ghost had wanted. But it would go no further than this. "Who's Darric?"

The fire cracked.

Effridiet. "A warlord." She shifted again, trying to get comfortable. "Earth is...covered with them. They're leaders, protectors, and in...most cases...tyrants." She scoffed again. "They remind me of pre golden age squabbles." There was a long pause. "The more territory you have the more powerful you are, the more far-reaching you get." She folded her arms but instantly tried to relax them. "Darric is one of them, definitely reaching into the tyrant category."

Isson took a moment to process all she'd said, falling quiet. "I don't have any memory of pre golden age Earth."

She shrugged. "Neither do I, but I've read things." Her lips twitched as a few versions of whatever she had to say next passed through her mind. "There is a group, calling themselves the Iron lords. A collection of…" she snorted with a smirk. "The honorable sort vowed to put an end to such warlords." She leaned forward. "And I'm...one of them, or at least I'm trying to be." She glanced sideways. "Darric is my first task."

That made him frown. "Why would they send you out alone?"

Effridiet flexed her fingers, opening and closing her palm. "They didn't."

The fire crackled.

"Oh…" Isson managed.

Her guide was killed?

His eyes narrowed. "You're being hunted." It was a statement, not a question. It should've been obvious to him from the start. The way the lady knight had acted around him thinking he was dead. Her words of venom during their fight.

She was silent as she studied him, wondering if he could be trusted.

Isson blinked again and nodded towards her. "If you're being hunted, are you running to them? Or away from them?"

It was her turn, her eyes narrowed. "To them."

He nodded slowly. "I didn't mean to imply you're a coward, sorry." He bowed his head in apology. It was slow and deliberate because there was no delicate way to ask that question. "It's evident that you aren't."

Her lip twitched as she relaxed, or tried to force herself to relax. "A warrior may retreat, but they do not flee." It was a quote that wasn't hers, that was easy enough to tell. It was her speaking through someone else. The way her words inflexed almost felt like it was an imitation of sorts.

Isson blinked, that was something he'd have to remember. "Then it was pure happenstance then, I picked up your trail before your pursuers."

"Yes," She agreed. "And it is also why I shot first with many assumptions." She looked down. "But I'm happy, I think, you being here means I've lost my pursuers before the mountain range then."

His eyes narrowed. "Unless they found mine."

Effridiet fell silent and tilted her head.

"If they found mine instead, it would've only bought you an extra day or so." He put his fist to his chin as he thought. "Several detours were trying to figure out the best path I took into the mountains. It would take them time to find the right one, but once they do…"

She nodded. "Right back to where we started." A frown started forming. "Darric likes to kill his enemies publicly for his little fort town to see. And if they do find us, they are going to play with us. Perhaps psychologically...physically."

He raised a brow a word touching the edge of his mind. The way it had when he saw a dead body hooked up a fallen machine of some kind. His lips twitched. "Torture?"

The silence was deafening.

"Darric has sent five lightbearers after me." She said. "Now, if they're smart, they'll want to try and get in front of us, because as of tonight. We are three weeks walking distance from said little fort town. My job when we arrive is to put him into the ground, and use their tower to contact the Iron Lords."

He nodded.

That will do for now one of the questions.

He spoke slowly, imagining this would be a more tentative subject. "I'll take first watch." He turned towards her. "I spent most of the day asleep."

An expression crossed her face, but ultimately, whatever it was, she hid it with humor. She snorted. "Alright, fair enough." Effriediet glanced around uncomfortably, obviously looking for a spot to sleep. "Spot near the hole in the side of the building is yours." She stood with a gesture to the very spot she'd been sitting in.

She'd chosen it because it was the best spot.

And that was that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her curl into her cape, and try to make herself comfortable. Something told him that neither of them was going to get much sleep tonight. Too many uncertainties between them.

I can't blame her for that.

Half an hour later, when their ghosts had returned, he explained the situation, of their guard rotation till morning. And after that, he didn't have much else to say. At least, not until he got some private time with Husker.

Do we stay? Or do we forge our path?

###

WOO. That was a bit of a delay. But to be fair, editing a manuscript does take time.