Hellebore: Chapter 1
"I will not let the prison of destiny hold me in its cold embrace. I, and no other, am the master of my fate!"
There are some moments in life when the real world becomes so crazy that you become detached from reality, take a step back and think, "what the hell am I doing here?"
This was one of the many thoughts going through a young huntresses' mind as she cut a Beowolf clean in two with her massive two-handed glaive. This particular huntress (or, to be more specific, huntress initiate) was named Honeydew Devlin. Not a very common name by any stretch of the word, but then again, the Devlin's were hardly an ordinary family by any sense of the word.
Honeydew, or Honey to her friends, was engaged in a very taxing struggle against a horde of Beowolves. There were several dozens of them, and they were very persistent. Not particularly fearsome individually, but their relentless, primal savagery more than accounted for a lack of tactics or discipline. Honey could slice through two or three of them at once, but it was hardly helping her. Her glaive had a long reach and a fearsome blade, yet it was difficult to swing it so freely when they flocked to her so fast. A Beowolf could easily run most prey down, even if they were in a commercial vehicle. The bastards could run at a fearsome speed when needed. As soon as she managed to cut her way clear of one pack another came bursting through the trees towards her, clearing the field in seconds. Barely a moments pause was afforded to her. Honey wasn't contemplating the likelihood of her death, even though she was inexperienced, alone, and without guidance, she still had her weapon, Aura, Semblance and copious amounts of Dust to see her through the day. Honey was more concerned with the delay this was costing her. She hadn't found a partner yet and she had no idea where the relics may be. She had been held up several times by Grimm and her initiation wasn't going as nearly as smoothly as she wanted it to be.
Thus, as she drove her glaive through the open maw of an approaching Beowolf, her mind was running over the events leading up to her decision in coming here. Her family would probably be laughing at her, if they could see her now, in over her head, messing around with things best left to those who came her with sincerity in their hearts. She was aware that no small part of her came here simply out of spite and pettiness. She would prove them wrong, regardless of how unpleasant an experience it may be. Anything to see that smug look wiped off their faces…
Honey sensed a Beowolf leaping towards her, and, without turning, spun her glaive in a neat semi-circle, slicing the Grimm vertically in half. She twirled her weapon in hand, pirouetting in a clean motion, and her weapon removed three heads clean off their former bodies. The two halves of the falling Grimm hit the ground as she returned her weapon to a natural ready stance. She briefly held down one of the many triggers on the haft, activating the dust infused into the glaive. A sudden flash of light emanated from the weapons fearsome blade as flames erupted over its surface, the metal taking on a reddish hue as she swung it in a blazing crescendo. The three heads thudded to the ground, rolling away like grotesque balls. Focusing her Aura in and throughout the weapon, she channelled sweeping beams of pure energy, concentrated Aura erupting from the weapons bladed edge in a glowing inferno of criss-crossing slashes. Honey twirled her glaive in both hands with practised and instinctive efficiency, the weapon emitting arcs of deadly fire-infused energy all around her. The burning maelstrom of attacks maimed, sliced, slashed, burned, and incinerated its way through the remainder of the horde, Grimm falling apart, melting, or simply falling dead from the force of the blows all at once. Melting flesh, broken bones and missing limbs claimed victims just as easily as the deadly touch of metal against flesh. No less than twelve Beowolves were taken down in a few seconds. Honey paused once the riot of violence had died down. Her heart beat in her head as her Aura tingled around her. A haze hung around her eyes as her superhuman senses assessed the situation and found no remaining threat. No more Grimm. Honeydew had finally silence the horde.
The bodies of roughly fifty Grimm lied in various states of disintegration throughout the forest clearing. The entire skirmish must have lasted no more than several minutes, but it felt like hours. Honey grimaced as her the fire on the edge of her weapon died down to a comforting ember. A bead of sweat dropped slid down her cheek, strands of honey-blonde hair falling over her face. Her eyes, a burnt gold in colour, gazed out at the carnage around her with a dispassionate interest. She breathed in deeply, straightened her back, and carried on. She was going to find those relics. She didn't care how long it took or who she was going to be teamed up with. She would bear the burden alone if it meant she could escape the torment she had lived with for the past seventeen years.
She walked for a good hour, possibly two, through the thick greenery of the forest, encountering no Grimm, nor any sight of a fellow classmate. Honey had been keeping track of the time. It had been four hours since she had begun initiation. Four hours. She had no idea how long it usually took for people to find their partners, or to find the relics. She just hoped she wouldn't be last.
It was approaching midday when she found a set of footprints left in the muddy undergrowth. She snorted. This person clearly wasn't familiar with these sorts of environments as the tracks meandered about, seemingly hesitant and uncertain. Still, there was only one set of tracks, so hopefully that meant whoever made them was still alone, and without a partner. Honey contemplated playing it safe, sneaking up to observe her potential partner before introducing herself, but decided against it. A partner was a partner. Regardless of who they were, they were, most likely, skilled as a hunter. Besides, another weapon alongside her own wouldn't go amiss. Even if that weapon did have an unpleasant personality attached to it, she'd tolerate it. All she needed was to find someone, anyone, before moving on to finding the relics.
What seems like an unreasonable cost in the present can become an unexpected profit in the future. Trust in yourself and you'll find a way to turn a set-back into an advantage. Nothing is unprofitable, remember that Honeydew, nothing. All it takes is imagination.
She scrunched her face up as the unpleasant lessons of her father echoed in her mind. His attempts at raising her and her siblings in that archaic environment had done wonders to her sense of self and her individuality. It had also instilled a life-long hatred of her family name and everything it stood for. Her hands wrapped around her weapon even tighter as she begun to track the footprints downhill.
All it takes is imagination…
She snorted at the thought. She wandered if he'd regret saying those words.
One day,Honey thought sadly.One day, maybe. But that's not today.