As always, I cross-post from AO3 and tumblr under 'boundinparchment'. Thank you so much for reading!
The sun was all but kissing the horizon when they finally came across the ashen snow that marked the delineation between the wilderness and the corrupted land beyond. Here, there was little use for the sun; the Pillar and its ever-present waves of ethereal ribbons saw to it that everything in its gaze was bathed in light.
And yet, the shadows fell like shrouds around Karina's shoulders, playing at the notion of old friends. She couldn't help but swallow the memory of copper on her tongue.
"Easy hunting ground," Volkov remarked. "No cover and large open fields to chase down any unsuspecting prey."
"But if they're expanding territory, that means they aren't necessarily finding that prey," someone said. "Unless they're compelled by something else…everyone has always said the PIllar affects whatever lingers here too long."
Karina gazed at the worn column of stone, pure white, piercing the landscape. It never quite touched anything, now that she looked properly, floating like a toy boat on a river. And yet the ground was shattered, cracks and crags in every direction, and a large hole seemed intent on consuming the giant stone.
They backtracked a few miles after checking the map again; their only concern were the monsters that had begun to encroach on the border, expanding territory and attacking migrating herds the people relied on for food and livelihood. Eventually, they found tracks indicating a moving herd and larger tracks of a stalking Fafnir.
Volkov's words echoed in her head. Without the means to hide, taking down such a creature was going to be troublesome. Nevermind bringing it back to the facilities.
But that's what this was about. Survival. Ingenuity. Teamwork. They'd find a way or die trying.
It didn't take long for them to find one, long fur dancing in the wind like smoke on a fire, white as the snow around it and eyes like diamonds. The Fafnir would have been beautiful if not for the bloodstains around its muzzle, the liquid dripping down to tangle and mar the otherwise pristine fur. Its paws, however, looked charred; the fur was ashen, brittle, and appeared to be crawling up its legs, consuming the giant wolf.
She tried not to think about how similar it looked to the burnt and ruined flesh of the piles of bodies…Delusion experiments gone wrong…
"Corruption?" Karina ventured. "Its paws?"
"Most likely," Volkov replied. "Orders said corruption was preferred and we haven't come across another. Let's go."
The largest creature she'd ever come in contact with was a horse and the Fafnir was easily three times the size. Before anyone could even discuss a strategy, someone was already stalking forward, Delusion igniting.
"Volkov, this—"
"Stay back and get a good shot," he replied. "Without a Delusion, you're better off in the distance anyway."
Karina seethed but since Volkov had placed himself as the defacto captain of the squad, she was in no position to argue. They had no time and they were trained to take out threats as quickly as possible. He may as well have called her useless. And the look he threw her was more of a glare than anything else, as if warning a child to stay put.
"Then why have me on your team?" she muttered to herself as she tried to find a level area. "I don't need pity, Volkov."
The wind was strong. Any shots would have to be severely calculated and adjusted and the ground wasn't even to begin with. Not to mention how quickly the wolf moved. Everything here was a disadvantage and if she was wrong with even one part of it all, she'd hit a squadmate instead. She'd be better off trying to simply make the shot by hand rather than trying to stake out and lay low.
And if the wolf's reaction was anything to go by, she might have to, Karina realized. Delusions didn't save them from quick whips of a tail or a swipe of a paw the size of drainage grate.
One body already laid limp in the snow. There'd been a sickening crack carried on the wind upon impact.
Volkov was holding his own well enough but his only true advantage was that he wasn't already injured. The other remaining troop member was barely able to dodge in time and with a well-placed swipe, they too, fell back.
Time, time, there was no time for this…
The wolf snapped its jaws at Volkov's Delusion fire and blades, unbothered and unafraid. It managed to bite down just as a burst of flame entered its mouth and it growled, shook its head, and continued attacking, all the more agitated.
Not again, not again, not again.
Karina kicked away the stand and positioned the rifle, pressing the butt of the gun to her shoulder to brace for the impact. Through the scope, she watched Volkov continue to dance around the Fafnir, slashing at it in an attempt to slow it down.
She couldn't get a shot in with the creature rearing its head and snapping around, let alone…
A diamond eye came into view as she heard a distant shout from Volkov and her finger twitched.
Karina held the rifle steady as the shot rang out, the impact knocking the wind out of her and sending a sharp pain through her shoulder. She'd felt less pain leaving the training mats every day.
The Fafnir swayed, gave a final swipe and snap as it fell, and landed in the snow with a rumble. Clouds of powdery snow flew out and took on the current whipping through the air. Gritting her teeth, her shoulder unmoveable, Karina used the scope to assess: Volkov, injured but alive, face splattered with blood; the other two unresponsive, one laying in stained snow.
None of it felt like a victory, not even when the scouts came to investigate the sound of gunfire and the wolf was carted away. Not even after she and Volkov had given reports to account for the deaths of the others and the day revealed that they might have been some of the only ones to make it back alive.
The shot was clean, so many said, and it was the point reiterated among the Harbingers. She'd managed to save one squadmate and take down a large enemy at the expense of herself but at least a dislocated shoulder meant she still had her arm.
Dottore was, in fact, present, Karina came to find. He'd barely looked at her other than to acknowledge her presence. He was more fascinated with the wolf, assessing it from every angle when they arrived back at the training facility. If the others praised her marksmanship, he lamented it, snapping that whatever research came from it would be incomplete due to organ damage.
"As if you could do better?" Pantalone remarked.
"I could, in fact, but that's beside the point."
He wasn't just bragging. The Segment she met had cut several shots close but never actually harmed her and her skin tingled in recollection of the beams of white-hot light.
They were escorted back up to the Palace, she and Volkov, and their ranks assessed in conference with the Tsaritsa. In waves of throbbing pain, Karina remembered the conversation at breakfast that felt like years ago now, how training was rushed and they were trying to push people through the ranks to fill potential gaps.
Beyond that, she could only remember being escorted to a sparse bedroom, not unlike the one she woke in weeks ago. Her face hit the pillow almost as soon as the door was shut and shoulder screamed every time she dared try to move it.
At some point, she was aware of voices in the room and Karina blinked as she lifted her head and then slowly sat up. She still wore her boots, caked with mud and dried blood but her overcoat was gone, as was her uniform top; she was left in her corset and loose overshirt. Although the pain was now nothing more than a dull ache, her vision swam as she tried to focus on the two figures; Dottore, and another, taller still with broader shoulders and a mask that hid the right side of his face.
"It would be a waste of resources, Jester, but do what you think is best," Dottore muttered. "This one would do well enough. The other is unremarkable."
The stranger, the Jester, spoke with an authority that even Dottore didn't seem to question a second time.
"We don't have the luxury of choosing, Doctor. These two are the only ones that survived, let alone met the criteria. You heard Her Majesty."
Karina tried to give a bow as best she could from a sitting position as the other man left with only a sparing glance at her. Dottore's gaze lingered on the door, mouth set into a frown, before he turned his attention back to her.
"Remove your shirt. The sedative should have kicked in by now."
That explained the lack of pain and the dizziness then, Karina thought.
With one hand, the task proved difficult, and in his impatience, Dottore turned her around, took her nearby knife, and sliced through the neckline down her back. She couldn't help the sound of annoyance that left her lips as she bundled the shirt to pull it down and Dottore returned it in kind, scoffing.
"The least of your worries, chevalière. Lay down."
Karina arranged herself on the bed and gloved hands prodded at her shoulder, grabbed her arm, assessing the position of the joint. The sedative was making it difficult to focus, a wave of pain overwhelming her as she felt the pop of the joint more than she heard it, her own cry drowning out anything else.
The pain ebbed away again and relief swam through her.
"I'll do a thorough examination tomorrow after your meeting with the Tsaritsa. Try not to move the joint."
"It's my dominant arm, Lord Harbinger."
"Hence the word try, chevalière. For a freehand shot with a large weapon, you got off relatively unscathed. If you are to be a Warden as the Tsaritsa has decided, you'll need use of the limb. You'll be assigned in the morning. I expect you down in Haeresys as soon as you're free."
Without waiting for her to agree, Dottore gathered his things, such as they were, and slammed the door behind him when he left, jaw clenched.
So Volkov had been right after all. They had been scouting. And because they were the two left standing on the corpses of their comrades…
All of that, only to end up in a similar position as before and rewarded for it. What was teamwork for when all it resulted in was this, this limbo of existence? What was any of it for?
The last few weeks had given purpose, goals, and those too had been snatched away.
She dreamed of charred fur and snapping jaws and eyes not of diamond, but of blood.