I love you my sweet, sweet little Soulstar. I’ll love you until the stars fall from the sky. I’ll love you until the rivers all run dry. I’ll love you until the sun no longer shines. I’ll love you until the poets run out of rhymes. In other words, until the end of time.

Josephine awoke. Her eyes opened slowly, her mind clouded. It was that voice again. Who was that? It happened more and more lately. Like all dreams, she forgot most of the details shortly after waking up but some stuck with her. The voice was soft, female, and somber. It was comforting, yet made her melancholic. She shook her head, it was not the time to focus on dreams, but on reality. Josephine wasn’t in her bed, but on a tree branch. She was surrounded by forestry, hundreds of massive tall trees’ leaves blocking her view. She got up, crawling across the tree branch, ignoring the vines that wrapped it. She hated the vines, they were parasites that sucked the life from the tree she’d been camping in for the past 3 weeks.

She looked down, seeing the castle she’d been staking out. It was an older building, clearly hundreds of years old given the moss and vines that crawled around the structure, slowly but surely taking it over. It was her target’s vacation home. The man’s name was Sir Duke, an unimportant prince in the grand scheme of things. His little principality of Durmaine was small compared to the major kingdoms but the Central Synod could not let his crime go unanswered. He had publicly renounced his loyalty to the Church, joining the Separatists. That was heresy, punishable by death. In response the Central Synod had dispatched the 12th Apostle to end him. She had failed her last mission, the most important mission of her life so for Josephine, this was the first step on the road to redemption.

Below her tree were two spearmen, conversing with one another. They had standard armor on but not a full set like a noble would have. Their helmets were rimmed, going upwards instead of providing full head protection like a knight’s. They had silver chest plates but besides that, the rest of their bodies were exposed. Even from her position, she could see their red and yellow striped undershirts with trousers to match. Josephine reached into her pocket, taking out a small watch. It was time. She double checked her dark green leather armor, ensuring that everything was secured. There were circular pads around her limbs to provide protection, as well as paddings to protect her vital areas. She then tightened the dark green cloak tied to her outfit and pulled the attached hood over her head.

“I summon you Smokeblade.”

Smoke surrounded her body as she held out her right hand. The smoke focused around her arm and condensed until it formed her curved jasmine blade. The process took no more than 3 seconds but felt like an eternity for her at times. She made her way to the edge of the branch, stepping over the vines. Josephine reversed her grip on the sword so that the blade faced downward. With her other hand, she pointed at the sword.

“Gravitas”

The sword shot down, looking like a green blur as it moved to the earth.

“And then I said ‘I don’t see how you can hate from outside the tavern, you can’t even get in!’” one spearman said.

The two chuckled at the joke when the blade went through one of them, crashing him into the ground. The blade went in so deep that only the hilt stuck out from the dead man’s body.

“Holy sh-”

Joesphine landed on top of the other man, crushing his lungs. As he gasped she grabbed his head and snapped it. Two men died in the blink of an eye. Why was it so easy? No, that wasn’t the question to ask, she knew the answer to that. It was because she’d been trained to kill since she was a child. The right question to ask was, why didn’t she kill so ruthlessly in the other world?

She pondered as she removed her blade from the spearman's corpse. She quickly shook her head. It was no time to think of the past. Josephine headed to the castle, hiding among the shadows. It was in an open clearing but most of the building was still overshadowed by the massive trees that surrounded it on all sides. It was hard to tell that it was only past noon, given how much shade the trees provided. A massive stone wall encircled the structure, demonstrating how the building was made to withstand sieges so long ago. She approached the wall and began to climb, using the wall’s age to her advantage. There were holes and other gaps in it that she used to effortlessly climb the 40 ft tall barrier.

She heard another spearman mumble to himself when she was near the top. She mindlessly grabbed his waist and pulled him back as she climbed atop. She didn’t pay mind to his screams as she looked around. There weren’t any guards nearby so she focused on the castle itself. Three spires shot into the sky, with multiple windows spread across them. They were all connected to a massive front door which was big enough to let large wagons in. Between here and the spires was an open area filled with verdant grass. Soldiers patrolled it, moving in formation. It was a shame that the prince had all these soldiers. None of them were making it out alive.

She ran along the castle walls, preparing to approach the spires from behind. Fortunately, she didn’t encounter any other guards and wasn’t seen by those below. Josephine was behind the tallest spire, there being a large space between it and the wall she stood on. She jumped down, landing with grace, almost without a sound. She dashed across, plunging her sword into the spire when she got to it. She would use the Smokeblade as a trampoline of sorts to jump up. Holy weapons were surprisingly flexible despite being as old as time itself. They would bend, but never break. She jumped on the blade, going down then shot up. She flew up 3 dozen feet. When she reached the highest she was going to go, she said “I summon you Smokeblade.”

The sword reformed in her hands which allowed her to plunge it into the wall. She quickly found points to put her other limbs on so she wouldn’t dangle. She looked down, seeing that she was only a quarter of the way up the spire. She began crawling some more, thankful that she was in an obscured position so that no guards would see her. Josephine promptly made it to the top. After ensuring her limbs were in place, she cut a hole into the building using her blade. It didn’t require any effort on her part. The Smokeblades were able to cut through any surface like a warm knife through butter. With the hole made, she crawled inside.

It was dark. Balanced on a support beam, she could see that she was over a massive dining room. A large rectangular table decorated with a flowing white and red covering. There were about a dozen people seated at the table, wearing colorful regal robes that clashed with the drab surroundings. Light filtered into the room via the room’s many windows which illuminated the bottom of the room but left the roof enveloped in darkness. Below Josephine was able to make out the attendants of this lunch. Most of them were minor lords beholden to the prince, looking nervous to be there. They laughed awkwardly, shifting in their seats. They must’ve known what was coming. At the head of the table was her target, Sir Duke.

He was a frail and skinny man. His nose was like a vulture’s beak, his blue eyes narrow and his short black hair full of too much gel. The being he spoke to surprised Josephine. It was an elf. They were female, wearing a tight collared purple shirt and gray trousers with their silver hair tied up in a bun. The wrinkles on their face indicated they were old, which for an elf must’ve meant she was over a hundred years old. She must’ve remembered what times were like before The Hundred Years’ War began. Josephine envied her for that. She always wondered what life was like without war.

“Sir Duke, I appreciate you coming round to your senses.” the elf woman said. “It brings the Confederacy much comfort to hear of your turnaround.”

“I suppose it has been a long time coming,” Sir Duke replied. “Something has to change, but the Central Synod refuses to. They’re too set in their ways. Their no compromise approach will lead only to ruin.”

The elf nodded.

“Of course. But still, it takes much courage on your part to join the Separatists. You know the implications of doing so.”

“I’m well aware but you see it, more and more kingdoms are abandoning the Church. There are 200 kingdoms, over half have now joined the Separatists. The pillars of the Church are unstable and I won’t have my people underneath them once it all comes crashing down. Besides, the Separatists have the international community’s support. You’re a prime example.``

“Your country” he continued. “Is able to clothe and feed people the Church won’t. You’re able to give funds for programs the Church refuses to. And all I have to give in return is preferred trade status? It’s more than a fair deal. This stopped being about religion long ago, it no longer matters. It’s been revealed to me that it's a false doctrine.”

Josephine sneered at them from above. The prince abandoned his faith for what? Material possessions? Funding from outsiders? The elves wanted influence, that’s all it was. The Confederacy of Elven Peoples was already an enemy of the church for not acknowledging the Goddess of Smoke for being the one true God. Now they fought on behalf of heretics in order to gain power. The elf below must’ve been a diplomat. Josephine could kill her, the Central Synod would approve.

She wanted to drop her sword on the prince from above but she couldn’t do what she did earlier, his death would have to be histrionic. Word would have to spread, so that other kingdoms wouldn’t dare do what he did. She’d have to kill him in a way that would instill fear. She leaped down, landing on the table with Smokeblade in hand, causing the plates to fall off and crash. The diners stopped, frozen seeing the armed hooded woman stand before them. They were petrified.

“Sir Duke.” Josephine began. “I am the flail of God. Had you not committed heresy, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you.”

She expected her target to sputter, overcome with fear. Instead he was calm, his eyes dead set on her as he screamed “Guards!”

Two spearmen approached the table from both sides, ready to thrust their weapons into Josephine. She nonchalantly cut the tips off, then in a sweeping motion lobbed off their heads. The diners scrambled back, including the elven diplomat. Sir Duke scrambled back as more and more guards entered through the dining room’s entrance. There were more than two dozen, varying in size. Some were hulking brutes with axes, others were thin men with swords and shields. What stuck out were the men in full plates of armor. They wielded massive blades, almost as tall as Josephine’s height. She didn’t expect Sir Duke could afford knights.

“You think I didn’t expect you?!” Sir Duke exclaimed, stepping back.

“I knew what I was doing! I knew the Central Synod would send one of their dogs of war after me but I prepared. I spent a lot to hire these men. They’re the best of the best. There’s no way a low ranked Apostle can withstand them all.”

Josephine remained calm, scanning her surroundings. She noticed the elf who had a cold expression on her face. She wasn’t panicking. Elves always were devoid of emotion.

“Birth from death” Josephine chanted. “May you arise from the ashes as She did. May you be reborn from embers. May She forgive your soul, for I won’t.”

A knight charged toward her, blade held high in the air. Josephine shot a glare at him and pointed a finger.

“Gravitas!”

The hulking man fell to the ground as if his armor had become too great to bear. She leaped off the table, thrusting her blade into the man. She yanked it free as more men surrounded her. A flurry of weapon swings were aimed at her. Josephine began to deflect, cutting some of the weapons apart. These men were ignorant. A Smokeblade cut through all. She became a whirlwind of destruction.

Limbs flew, men screamed, blood flowed. The drab room was quickly being decorated with red. It was so easy. Why wasn’t she like this last time? Why was it so easy to cut down men but she hesitated to kill three people her own age? It’s not like she didn’t try, she tried her hardest yet it wasn’t enough. She refocused on the battle, having currently used her magic on another group of men, forcing them to the ground. As she dodged multiple attacks, she dragged her sword along the ground, cutting through each man like meat on a butcher’s table.

Their numbers were quickly dwindling. The men began to falter, fear slowly taking over as they witnessed Josephine restrict their movements and laid them to rest. Others began to run, realizing no amount of money was worth fighting an Apostle. They must’ve underestimated her given she was only the 12th, the lowest ranked Apostle. That was a grave mistake. All 12 were chosen to wield the most powerful weapons ever created, and such a duty was not bestowed on just anyone. She may not have had legendary status like the upper half, but she was still a force to be reckoned with. If only she was like that back then. Why did she struggle so much back then!?

Josephine’s mind was distracted when she realized she’d cut down the last soldier. She looked around, realizing she had created a pool of blood. No one put up a real fight, not even the knights. All fell before the wrath of God. Sir Duke stood in the back of the room, cowering. Josephine shook her head in disappointment. The fool actually thought his plan would work. She took slow steps towards him.

“I pity you, heretic.” she said. “You enjoyed Her light, only to cast yourself in darkness.”

His eyes didn’t focus on Josephine, instead looking at something behind her as she closed in.

“Would you do something already!” he shouted.

Josephine raised an eyebrow when she felt a heavy weight crash into her side. She was flung to the other side of the room, crashing into the ground. Her body shivered as she tried to stand.

“I got it.” a voice said.

Josephine was able to at least look up, seeing the elf standing there. Why was she still here? She should’ve ran away with the rest of the diners as soon as the fighting started.

“I had to analyze first but I understand her movements now.” the elf revealed.

“Aren’t you an Elven diplomat?” Josephine asked, still struggling to get up.

The old elf smirked and shook her head.

“Bodyguard.”

Sir Duke began to laugh madly, running across the room to stand alongside the elf.

“She was sent from the Confederacy to help me! We all know how troublesome Apostles are. The men I hired were merely a ruse to tire you out.”

Josephine finally stood up, straightening her back. Her hood fell down, revealing her flowing brunette hair. She brushed it out of the way, getting into her fighting stance. Her left arm extended, palm facing her opponent while her feet were spread apart, left foot placed in front of the right. Her blade was raised above her head, point aimed forward. This was a stance that specialized in broad sweeping movements.

“Please dispatch her quickly Zentha” Sir Duke ordered. “I’d like to begin cleaning this place up soon.”

The elf nodded, cracking her knuckles as purple electricity coursed around her body. Bloody elves were always adept with magic, even more so than humans. Josephine’s opened palm became a pointed finger.

“Gravi-”

“Too slow.”

The old elf had appeared behind Josephine. She tried to whirl around to meet her opponent but was too slow to prevent the elf from punching her through the floor. She crashed, debris covering her eyes as she landed on something that made her bounce then hit the floor. Josephine swung her blade, causing the debris and smoke to be blown back so she could see.

She had landed in some sort of servant’s quarters. There were bunk beds lined up along the walls with lockers placed next to them. Josephine frantically looked around, realizing her opponent was nowhere to be seen. Above, she could hear Sir Duke cackle. Then she sensed it. Her hair stood on end as she felt electricity gather from behind. She was able to turn around in time to block an electrified punch. Her body stung as she skidded across the room.

Josephine almost lost her balance but remained upright. Her opponent was nothing but a purple blur that closed the distance in a flash. Josephine swung her sword but it whiffed. Zentha was beneath her blade, and hit her with a hard right hook then a left. Josephine coughed as Zentha followed up with an uppercut to the nose. Josephine’s head shot up when Zentha appeared on the ceiling then zipped down to her, using the ceiling as a springboard.

She kicked Josephine through the ground, onto the next floor. Josephine gagged as her body writhed on the floor of what appeared to now be a weapon storage room as there were countless racks holding a myriad of weapons. A single lamp dangled over the center of the room.

“You’re young.” Zentha remarked, watching Josephine from a distance.

“It means you’re inexperienced. That’s what confuses me about the Central Synod. They use children to do work meant for adults. It’s a shame what they did to you.”

“You call fighting for God a shame?”

Josephine whispered something under her breath as she arose, her finger pointed at Zentha.

“It’s euphoric!”

Zentha made more purple electricity surge around her body, attempting to dash forward when she noticed something was off. It was a minor change but it was still a concern. Was she heavier? Why did that happen? Why couldn’t she be as fast as she was mere moments ago? Zentha’s mind was distracted for a split second which was all Josephine needed to dash to her, winding up a punch.

“You misanalyzed me. I don’t need to say my spell loudly for it to take effect.”

Josephine’s fist smashed into Zentha’s face, forcing the elf back. Zentha couldn’t comprehend it, but Josephine’s spell was affecting her, albeit a much much weaker version of what she’d displayed earlier. Another detail of Josephine’s gravity magic was that the louder she said it, the stronger it became. The inverse was also true. The quieter she said it, the weaker it was but that was all Josephine needed to slow her opponent down. Josephine followed up with a kick to the head, then swung her blade. Zentha put an electrified arm up to block when Josephine surprisingly stopped her own attack, stepping back, pointing a finger at her.

“Gravitas!”

Zentha felt heavy, as if she put on a massive weighted vest. She smirked.

“Not bad but it’s not enough.”

Zentha exhaled, focusing more magic around her body, allowing her to zip around Josephine, despite the increased weight. She could handle it, all she needed to do was channel more power. She moved around Josephine in a flash, punching her from different angles in quick succession. Josephine remained standing, using her arms to cover herself like a tortoise’s shell. Her eyes were wide open, trying to keep track of her opponent. Zentha appeared behind her but Josephine whipped her head around, thumb over her shoulder.

“Gravitas!”

Zentha fought through the increased weight once more, punching Josephine across the room. The girl’s body crashed against the wall, causing chunks of the stone wall to hit the ground. Zentha breathed heavily, the exertion from moving so fast on top of using so much magic was draining her old body. If only she were 50 years younger.

She could hear laughter. Josephine appeared from the rubble, brandishing a wicked smile.

“You’re getting slow.” she noted.

Zentha gritted her teeth, preparing another flurry of attacks. She tried to dash forward but couldn’t. She couldn’t channel enough magic. Josephine slowly walked to her as Zentha tramped forward. She could at least still move.

“I guess your age is catching up to you, you bloody elf” Josephine taunted.

Zentha brought her arm back, electricity still coursing around her body when she formed a fist.

Josephine pointed at her.

“Gravitas.”

Zentha fell onto her knees. She barely had the strength to look up at the young girl before her. She was bruised in multiple places, her nose bleeding and her hair covered in gray debris. Compared to her, Zentha was hardly damaged yet she was about to lose.

“Never underestimate the Central Synod” Josephine said, putting her blade to Zentha’s neck.

“You poor child.” is all Zentha said. “I wonder what you would’ve been had they not taken everything from you.”

Josephine paused.

“What are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter now. You wouldn’t listen.”

“More Separatist false doctrine?”

“No..the truth”

Josephine slit Zentha’s throat. Her body fully collapsed as Josephine walked away from the corpse. Of course the elf would spew complete nonsense. That didn’t matter, she had a mission to complete.

It didn’t take her long to find Sir Duke. The man was on the floor she originally killed all his men on. He was in his bedroom, sitting at an ornate wooden desk next to the window. He heard Josephine open the door.

“Ah Zentha have you finished?”

He turned around, the smile on his face quickly becoming a frown.

“Zentha’s dead?”

Josephine nodded.

“Surprising. A low ranked Apostle shouldn’t have beaten her.”

“Yet here I am.”

He stood up, his back facing the window.

“You know it’s all a lie don’t you? Everything you’ve been told?”

Josephine didn’t respond, only taking more steps toward him.

“I found out the truth only recently myself, so it doesn’t surprise me you wouldn’t believe me. You were the one sent to get the so-called hero of prophecy correct?”

“What if I am?”

“How much do you know about the prophecy?”

“You ask a priestess about her religion? I know all 25 pages inside and out, verbatim.”

“See, that’s one of the lies.”

He leaned back against the window.

“There’s fifty.”

“Heresy.”

“No, it’s the truth. The Central Synod makes its living by obscuring it. It’s how they keep power. That’s why they want all kingdoms to be beholden to them. They want control. I had to break away. I’m tired of war, of my people suffering. The problem doesn’t lie with the Separatists, it’s with the church.”

“I’ve heard enough.”

Josephine went up to him, grabbing him by the collar. Fear was once more prevalent on his face. The man spouted lies. Josephine was looking at a madman.

“May She forgive you.”

She threw Sir Duke through the window and in that brief moment before he plummeted to the earth, pointed at him and said “Gravitas.” His body shot down, terminal velocity beginning instantly. She could hear his body splash below. People screamed and panicked outside. Josephine turned around and strode out of the room. As she walked through the hallways, she sang to herself.

"Lord lift me up over the hurt and pain. Deliver me from the rain. See I don’t wanna stress anymore, I don’t wanna struggle anymore”