Chapter Restructured & Expanded: 10-03-23.

CHAPTER IX
Ābȳgan (Convert)

XXII • CM Hidesdæg of Sawanmōnaþ
(The 22nd Day of Sowing Month, Worker's Day, 900)

The rain bore down upon them like razor-thin shards: Every droplet sparing no expense in its unrelenting storm. Bitter and cold, Natsuki growled hatefully as Tomoe heaved her up, their forms utterly sodden by the downpour.

"We're returning—now." Tomoe demanded as she jerked Natsuki closer by the collar. To hell with this runt's attitude. It is going to get her killed one day. "You have no idea how we run this Palace, so stop thinking you can get in the way!" She neared so intimidatingly that their noses were close to brushing.

Natsuki is relentless in her rebellious attitude—worlds apart from Tomoe's mellowed allegiance to their Wælcyrge. Albeit a temperamental Ánhere at times.

"I don't, do I?" Attempting to push the elder woman away, Natsuki struggled when her adversary's grip didn't relent. "Because I sure wish I could get away!" She glared spitefully at the fellow Ánhere who simply exchanged the gesture. "Get off of me!" Slammed into the tree's trunk behind her, air hurled from her lungs, causing her to gasp. Coupled with catching her breath in futility, a whisper dulled by rain chilled her.

"You know, they say Ánhere were killed by their Wælcyrge. I wonder if she murdered you in spite? I hope so."

Panting, Natsuki stared at Tomoe incredulously before being hauled back onto her feet. "R-really? And you… you weren't?" Curse Tomoe for clenching hold of her collar so adamantly like this. Unable to escape, she glared through her, neither of them realising how close they were.

"If you're going to fuck, do it elsewhere. I'm trying to read up here." Freezing, the two drenched women glanced upwards into the tree's canopy. Much to their disbelief, none other than Juliette Nao Zhang lounged within the tree. As though it is customary, the redhead had an umbrella propped to her shoulder. Protected from the rainfall, a book is within her free hand. "Get lost."

"We aren—" Tomoe attempted, but the eyepatched redhead merely cackled.

"Aren't what?!" She wafted her book their way. "You're all over each other!"

Shoving Tomoe away from herself with all her might, Natsuki staggered towards her. As the elder Ánhere slipped backwards into the mud, she leapt over her at the last second. Still gasping for breath, she threw the woman another glare before heading towards the forest.

"Oh no you don't." Tomoe picked herself up and marched towards her. Reaching for the woman's wrist, her grip is snapped away. "Are you moronic? You'll get killed in the forest!" Hadn't she learned her lesson from the wolves?!

"Who cares? You obviously don't."

"If one of us dies, Shizuru will too!" Tomoe watched the younger woman freeze midstep.

"I know." Natsuki didn't look over her shoulder.

"We're returning."

"Like hell we are."

Of all the people to choose, Shizuru had chosen her? Tomoe still couldn't fathom the concept. That week, Shizuru had simply stated she would be gone for a while and had departed. By the time she had returned, she had brought Natsuki with her.

It isn't impossible for a Wælcyrge to protége multiple Ánhergas, but it is certainly rare. Shizuru's own Wælcyrge, Anh hadn't. Before her? Tomoe hadn't a clue who Anh's had been. Like all Wælcyrge they became legendary; mere myths that only held half truths. It is the fate of their Wælcyrge mistresses to vanish into obscurity; they themselves never managing to parlay with recognition.

In reality, an Ánhere is a Wælcyrge's tool that if lost would mean their downfall. However, if strong enough, the tool could survive without its mistress and seldom become the new Wælcyrge.

Following the younger woman, Tomoe successfully latched hold of her drenched wrist. "We're surrounded by the Black Plague. We're at war with neighbouring countries. Do you honestly wish to die so pathetically?" If these two things didn't kill Natsuki, the outdoor elements will.

Why hadn't anyone ever told her this? Natsuki halted in her stride, glancing over her shoulder to the older Ánhere. Scrunching her eyebrows at the woman, Natsuki tore her gaze away a moment later. She is surprised she had managed to bloody Tomoe's nose at all. "I don't get it. I know nothing and I'm told so little. What am I supposed to think? She spoke gruffly. "Viola's a psychopath, the Queen's a brat, this whole world is...—just that. I'm sick of trying to understand it."

They remained still within the rain.

"Who said that you ever had to understand it?" Releasing her hold on Natsuki, Tomoe brushed her knuckles to her tender nose. Ugh, that hit had been cheap. She'd give Natsuki that much, at least. Whatever, this is taking far too long and this rain is irritating her further. "I'll make you a deal. Stop this stupidity, and I'll tell you what I can."

"...Deal." Seriously, why is she agreeing to this?

"Get in." Tomoe hushered Natsuki into the quarters who edged towards the central table. Heading inside herself, Tomoe shut the door after her and waltzed over towards her. Noticing they were alone, her eyes focused onto a note by an inkwell and feather. What… Picking the parchment up, Tomoe frowned as she read the Arcewælcyrge's neat handwriting.

"The Huntmaster is accompanying me to rout out the bandits. They have attacked another caravan and must be dealt with permanently. I will return once I am able."

With the Huntmaster? Tomoe glanced at Natsuki who stood by the table, appearing furious and cold. Tomoe couldn't care less. If it isn't for her, she would be the one joining Shizuru. Ugh, to hell with it. Shaking her head, the elder Ánhere threw the parchment aside. "The bandits are being dealt with, Shizuru won't be joining us."

At least Natsuki wouldn't have to contend with her. Natsuki felt some respite from knowing such a thing. But, s-she… Viola's a psychopath! She had cut that bandit down—whether innocent or guilty—without a single shred of mercy. Who, or what is she? "Who the hell is Viola?" She demanded from the Ánhere.

Natsuki's eyes burned into Tomoe's back as she reached for a cloth. Indeed, who is Shizuru Viola? Not even Tomoe herself knew entirely. Dabbing her nose, she wiped away the flaking, smeared blood. An Ánhere is just the extension of a Wælcyrge's arm. "Wælcyrge don't just appear like us." She started, throwing the cloth into the laundry basin for later. "She started as an Ánhere."

"In the desert?"

Tomoe nodded, reaching for two towels this time. "Dry yourself, else the floorboards will get wrecked." Throwing the younger woman a towel, she squeezed the excess water from her hair with hers. Why is this woman so stubborn? Of all times, in the rain too? Coating the fabric against her face in lieu of respite, Tomoe inspected her clothing. She would have to change too, she is drenched and caked in mud—they both would need to.

Wrapping the towel around her shoulders loosely, Tomoe leaned her front into the table opposite from Natsuki. "A Wælcyrge is the embodiment of spiritual energy. Reaping souls is her speciality and because of that, the Wælcyrge have earned many names through the ages: Grim Reaper, Psychopomp, Necromancer, Angel of Death, Soul Harvester, Vampyre, Swanmaiden, Ravenmaiden... The list goes on."

Studying the Ánhere as she dried the back of her throat, Tomoe knew that she couldn't reveal too much information. That is Shizuru's decision, not hers. "She isn't touching you for whatever stupid reason's in your head. She is pumping you full of Ardour to save you."

"Save me?" Natsuki's brows furrowed. "I know. She told me already." Rubbing her forehead with her borrowed towel, Natsuki felt something amiss. She is an Ánhere; a Wælcyrge's 'chosen'. Is she a mere lost soul held captive by a mad hoarder? Is that it? Tomoe is already Viola's. Why would she bother choosing another? Let alone an Ánhere who wants nothing to do with her?

That's if Tomoe isn't lying, of course.

"So if I die, she dies? Why?"

"Soul Pact. Your soul is anchored to hers during your resurrection. She sacrificed a portion of her lifeforce to keep you alive. Just as she did with me."

The anchoring again. Natsuki still doesn't understand what it is.

"By harvesting the bandits' souls, she will return to her full strength."

So, a Wælcyrge could do th—how many souls did she need? "She's a mass murderer! How is that any excuse to kill so m—"

"Silence your tongue!" Tomoe lunged over the table to seize Natsuki's collar. "We had a deal. Stop being so moronic. You will die if she has no access to souls. Why do you even care?" Tomoe shoved the younger Ánhere backwards. "They're bandits! It isn't like she's killing someone who deserves to live! We do what we must to survive." As they exchanged a searing glare, Tomoe wondered whether to continue; Natsuki's cold stare didn't thaw. Perhaps this Ánhere is a dud? No matter. "Sometimes Wælcyrge choose to pact with a soul that carries great potential." Watching Natsuki's expression twitch slightly, she smiled. "Not that I understand what's expected of me—both of us included. I'm just an Ánhere."

If Tomoe didn't know, then…? Natsuki watched her cautiously. "Then why bother having Ánhere if it means killing?"

"What did I just say?" is she even listening? Tomoe stared at her pointedly. Even though she had the answers, neither she nor Shizuru could answer the mystery behind the Ánhere. Who were they? What is their purpose other than becoming Wælcyrge? Is their existence futile? Tomoe had asked herself this a thousand times before.

Resting her fingertips to the table, Tomoe studied Natsuki. She is genuinely unsure whether her Ánhere sister would ever settle. Tomoe supposed that she understood her to a degree. They had essentially been snatched from their past lives—knowledge of that time unimportant—and tossed here. The only clue they received from their past life were the wounds they were anchored with. Is this crucial information? They may never know.

"Anchoring; what's that?"

"It's the ability to draw Ardour to something. A corpse is useless without its soul; by syphoning that spiritual energy, we can return its life." Earning a confused look, Tomoe exchanged their stare for a moment as she mused over her explanation.

She had never had to explain this, after all. Ah, maybe she had the answer now. "Just look at spiritual energy as a memory. Experiences, emotions; they are all of this. Humans are far easier to anchor because of self-awareness. Buildings, not so much."

Natsuki believes she is beginning to understand now, nodding slowly. "Does that mean this Palace could be anchored while a normal building couldn't?"

"You're getting it." Tomoe praised, turning her attention to the crowned glass window. It is starting to rumble. "A thunderstorm's on its way." She hoped Shizuru's alright.


"I propose that once this is dealt with, we visit the bathhouse. I am thoroughly drenched." Viola proclaimed as she carefully tread through the waterlogged underbrush.

They had been hunting the bandits for over four hours now and this storm isn't relenting.

The Huntmaster laughed, though no humour is evident. She knelt down beside the soaked corpse of a lone bandit, retrieving a bolt from his throat. With great difficulty she removed it from his jugular, blood gushing from the entry wound as she stood. "I am thinking the same—Ugh. I hate it when my clothes get blood on them. That's worse than them being wet!" Midori lamented, but this bolt isn't damaged, at the very least. Studying it momentarily, she attached it to her crossbow's catch and whirled the crannequin.

"More moved to the south." She studied the muddy overgrowth of their surroundings inside this section of the forest. "The disturbance of these shrubs is made by man, not by a beast." With her weapon loaded, she trained it in front of herself, ready for more adversaries.

Viola landed her eyes upon this area the Huntmaster pointed out. It indeed seems the case; the tall grass has been matted down as though a squadron had marched through it. They were gaining on the bandits. It would only be a matter of time until they caught the rest. "How many?"

"Twelve. Perhaps more." Toeing the corpse's body with her boot, the Huntmaster tilted her head towards the forest canopy. Frowning, she lifted a hand to signal the Arcewælcyrge to quieten. A distant rumble echoed, disturbing the stone-cold silence. Not even a whisper from a bird sounded. Something suddenly felt incredibly wrong, and both women felt it.

Drawing her sabre, Viola pointed the tip skywards at the ready. Their location is rather unfortunate. Mounds of unlevel slippery grass littered this clearing; if a battle is to be had, this environment would be treacherous.

Then, at that moment, the bandits swarmed them on all sides.

Total carnage commenced as thirteen bandits charged the pair. Believing their numbers would bring them indisputable victory, they were arrogant and loud. Armed with axes, falchions, spears and shields, they clanged their weapons; gloating and bellowing objectifying slurs.

"Burn the witch!" — "Get in my bed, pretties." — "Fuck me, they're gorgeous."

Ugh, gross. Midori winced as she stood beside Viola. They were encircled similarly to that of wolves; disgusting and hungry stares thrown their way by the bandits. Though the Huntmaster is genuinely nervous, Viola stood her ground by her side.

"It is convenient indeed that you arrived when you did." Viola threw them a disarming praise, lips pulling into a serene smile behind her sabre. Fixating her crimson gaze upon every individual, the bandits barked with laughter.

"Even in the face of Death, this bitch praises us! How cute."

Jumping her focus on the bulkiest of the group, Viola identified him as the leader. His armour is of much finer quality, and he wielded a falchion. The blade is propped against his shoulder without much care for his safety.

They were all underestimating her and the Huntmaster.

"Death is only a new avenue to explore. You know what I am, no?"

"I don't give a shit." The bandit rallied his men into spite and cheer. "We raid to survive." Spitting at Viola, he lifted his falchion into a sweeping attack.

It is futile. Viola swiftly sliced into his cheek with her sabre, rendering through fat and muscle agonisingly. "I could care less." Viola stood her ground before the Huntmaster, the bandits surrounding her. "Go to the trees." She instructed Midori who froze. "Go! I will distract them!"

Knowing to not disobey the Arcewælcyrge, Midori threw herself towards the forest's edge. Running as hard as she could manage, the bandits didn't make chase. They were far too happy in contending with their new Wælcyrge "prize".

"Attack!"

"You are fools." Viola cut the first bandit down—twice and thrice toppling down before her blade. For every criminal she downed, more burst into the clearing.

Amongst the carnaged mettle, crossbow bolts flew, slaying the occasional bandit. Midori has never been one to flee, after all.

Arching her sabre from head to toe horizontally, blood swept into the rain. Their numbers were seemingly unending. As she cut short their lives, overexertion began to consume her. Though the bandits would never witness this; a serene smile upon her lips hauntingly. She is tiring—beginning to realise: Her Key would be her only route out.

No. She could not! Not after so long.

Spinning her sabre overhead, she parried a brave bandit who cockily challenged her. The bandits encircled her on all sides, making escape impossible. Sweat slipped down her brow as an anxiety welled within her gut. Yes, there is no withdrawing.

Bolting back from a strike, Viola sliced her wrist with deadly precision. The men stared at her bewilderedly, stopping in their tracks. "Oh, please continue." Her demeanour shifted as blood poured from the gaping wound, a mist of crimson rose into the skies to snake around her. They were petrified. Surely they would've known her nature?

Buffoons.

Laughing softly, she darkly smiles as the acidic cloud engulfed the bandits. Screams of agony ripped from their throats as their skin melts. "Kiyohime."

The faintest glimpse of a gigantic lindworm materialises behind Viola. Consisting of a draconic head, serpentine body, two taloned arms and wings, Kiyohime hovered. She, unlike the silver wolf, is suddenly distinguishable to the bandits. Because, after all, they were close to death.

As the worm rose, it twisted around the Wælcyrge's form and snapped its tail powerfully towards them. A venomous gust blasted the bandits. As the final bandit toppled to the floor dead, Viola remained within the epicentre of the carnage. Crimson flowed underfoot, melding with rain as threads of spiritual energy pooled from their corpses. Lifting skywards, they fizzled into a shimmering emerald, seeping into the Wælcyrge's dealt wounds.

Two wounds, in fact. A lingering sting pulsed along the side of her face. Touching along her temple, Viola froze in confusion as the Huntmaster hesitantly approached. Removing her hand, a seething anger boiled as blood stained her palm and wrist. One of those bandits had nicked her!

"...Viola?" Midori nervously looked between her and Kiyohime who protectively curled around her form.

Turning, the Arcewælcyrge stared furiously at the Huntmaster who immediately backed out of the way. With her injured limb, she pressed the heel of her palm against the wound. Encircling her other hand around her slit wrist, she stormed into the direction of the Palace. "Come." She demanded, bitter that she had been harmed in the first place. "Nature can take the scum."

As they retreated from the area, Kiyohime evaporated: their warpath soaked in gore.


It is deep into the night when Natsuki is awoken to a disturbance in the other room. Listening carefully, she stares at the ceiling as she hears a chair slide against floorboards… Has Viola finally returned, perhaps? Sliding her hands against her face, Natsuki soothed the exhaustion as she sat up.

"...uru, you've re—wha' happe..." She could barely hear.

Is she mad to consider greeting Viola? There is no question about it, after last night, the answer is obvious. Standing, Natsuki headed for the adjacent room. Opening the door, Viola and Tomoe immediately turned to look at her. This staring match continues for a moment as Natsuki frowns. What...

Apart from being thoroughly drenched, a stitched gash runs along Viola's forehead and across the right temple. Her left wrist is also bandaged, blood blemishing the white fabric. She had been injured? Natsuki couldn't quite believe her eyes as she continued to gawk. But she soon retreats her gaze: Viola appears abruptly furious.

"It is a lucky hit, is all."

"Does it hurt? You didn't use…?"

Natsuki remained in the doorway uncomfortably as Tomoe delicately touched Viola's wound. Even though Tomoe didn't understand why they were Ánhere, she is awfully close to Viola. It made Natsuki feel increasingly wary as the scene continued. Ugh. She is going back to bed.

"You're soaked. Please, let me help you?"

Shutting the door on them, she returned to her bed and threw the covers back over herself. Ah, peace once more.

Alas, the minutes slowly added as Natsuki continued to lie awake. No matter how hard she tries, she simply couldn't do away with what had happened. Viola is psychotic, Tomoe didn't understand why they existed, and—well, just… how? Nothing is making sense! Rolling onto her stomach in distemper, Natsuki smeared her head into the pillows.

'Stop. Thinking.'

Sometime later, Natsuki stiffens as she hears the door open quietly. Staring hard into the fabric of her pillow, she felt the mattress dip down.

"I know you are awake." Viola watched as the cocooned Ánhere stubbornly refused to acknowledge her. "Hm. Immature child." Tenderly touching her forehead's wound, Viola winces. Oh, she is still so furious! It is taking her all to keep it in check.

"I understand that you wish to know more in relation to the Wælcyrge? Or more specifically, myself?" Scarlet eyes wandered along Natsuki's covered form who finally sat upwards. Receiving an apprehensive stare, Viola ignored it. "What would you like to know?"

'What would I want to know?' Natsuki echoed internally. There were so many questions that Natsuki had no idea where to begin. Would she dare? "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" The Wælcyrge smiled, placing her arms into her lap as she mused upon this question herself. "Shizuru Viola. Perhaps around twenty-seven." It is always difficult to place their exact ages, they didn't know their past, after all. "I died from heart complications. My Wælcyrge mistress thought that I was impaled."

Impaled through the heart? Natsuki stared at her a tad speechlessly. "...Tomoe said that a Wælcyrge kills their Ánhere in their past life?" Viola chuckled darkly, catching her off guard. Immediately this set off her nerves, anxiety welling inside her stomach. W-what…? No…? Did she say something wrong?

"If that is indeed the case, I should have congratulated Anh for such a fascinating death." Sobering, Viola's anger dissolved as she attentively observed Natsuki. "Very few dare to ask me that, and for very good reason." Her Ánhere began to panic as she eased closer. "Do not…" Clutching Natsuki's jaw, she stilled her; the fear's clear within her eyes as Viola studied her. "...Trust your peers easily. Wælcyrge are surrounded by superstition and intrigue. We may never know if I killed you during our previous lives—nor if we ever met."

There's no point worrying about something which may not be true, no? Verdant irises seemed to calm as she moved away. Deciding this is her small victory, Viola continues: "Ten years ago I was found by my Wælcyrge in the Black Valley. My resurrection was difficult as my heart had been totally exsanguinated. It is a miracle that Anh had the strength to keep me stable during my recovery."

Nobody could live without their heart, surely? Natsuki hadn't a clue what she could say. All she could do is simply listen to the Arcewælcyrge.

"I am somewhat uncertain why she chose me. My dire health would have very easily killed her." Anh had certainly been powerful, likely stronger than herself. "Three years ago she died when we journeyed to the Garderobe Ruins in order to anchor it."

Garderobe. Oh, Gods'. S-she had been there. The memories of her trek through the Sprites' Forest came rushing back like a tidal wave. "R-uins? Why anchor that?" Natsuki attempts to keep calm, but her flayed anxiety is obvious like daylight.

That is a rather fascinating reaction. Viola stared at her, piecing one and two together. So that's where her Ánhere had gone during the wolf attack. So she's seen it, hasn't she? "Hm." She hummed in amusement, terrifying her Ánhere before suddenly saying: "They were thought to have been connected to the Palace. Not much is known about the site. However, enough of that. With time I will tell you more; do you accept?"

"Y-yeah..." Natsuki forced herself to nod.

Viola smiled, easing from the bed and making a move towards the door. "Get some rest, Natsuki. You look exhausted." It is clear why.


Terminology

Lindworm — A dragon-snake from European lore. Most representations of them are wingless with the bodies of snakes.

Key — In the Mai-HiME Manga, a Key is a HiME's most precious person. With one, the HiME can access their powers. In Cyne Wælcyrge, Kiyohime is a Key which unlocks Viola's hidden Ardour.