The vampire was beginning to irritate her. It was a mindless beast, barely capable of forming a thought that was not connected to feeding, yet, it was keeping up with her. The grey-skinned monster had already killed the two Silent Knights that had been escorting her since she left Hillsburg. Her prey licked its cracked lips with an elongated tongue, tasting her blood. The fool was quick to learn that Witch Hunter blood was not a dish it would enjoy. That did not change the fact that the vampire had managed to take a bite from her neck. Its yellowish teeth were sharp, but not too long and had only damaged the fabric of her collar. But the tongue was another thing. Covered in small barbs, it had sliced right through the skin with ease.

The spindly monster spasmed and spat out a mouthful of black blood, its face twisting as it vomited the fetid contents of its stomach. This was the opening she was looking for. Tightening her grip on two kampilan swords in her hands, she sprinted at the vampire. The creature was faster and more agile than a human, which meant she needed an advantage. Without a second thought, the Witch Hunter sliced with one weapon at its shoulder, lodging it at the joint. Pushing her advantage and relinquishing the blade, she dropped to her knees, avoiding the swing of its right arm and sliced the inverted knee joints of its legs.

Her efforts were rewarded by a primal scream of pain and a strong arm grabbing her shoulder and throwing her in the air. Taking a few more bruises when she hit the hard ground was worth it. The vampire fell on its side the moment it took a step towards her, the tendons in its legs severed. It would take the monster a few minutes to heal the wounds, but that was all the time she needed.

The Witch Hunter took a moment to relax her breathing and evaluate the condition she was in. Better be safe than fail due to an injury she had ignored. A second later her companions informed her that the only things of note were the wound on her neck and a sprained ankle. This was most fortunate since that left two of them free to boost her speed and strength, while the other two focused on healing her wounds. That left only the question of which of her companions would do what. A vampire’s bite was not something to be taken lightly. On the other hand, if she focused on killing the monster faster, all four could deal with the injury and the poisons coursing through her blood.

“Enid, I will need my foot to work properly.” The Witch Hunter reached out to the spirit residing in her.

“It shall be done, benevolent one,” her companion’s voice chimed in her head.

“Thank you, my dear.” She allowed a smile to form on her lips. “And Maeve and Onora, I am sorry to ask this of you, but could you two keep the corruption at bay?”

“Consider it done, kind one.” The two answered at the same time with a cheerful song.

This should be more than enough, considering the vampire was focused on removing the kampilan lodged in its left shoulder. Its long bony fingers were not able to properly grip the handle and it was too obviously too stupid to think of a different way to remove the weapon. Then why had she struggled to kill it so far? The Witch Hunter hated to admit it, but it was because she had allowed her confidence to blind her. It was her fault that the two Solent Knights were dead. This realisation only further fuelled the anger she was feeling. She had to extinguish it. Emotions in combat would lead only to one’s demise, this was the first thing they taught her in the Frozen Keep. The Witch Hunter exhaled slowly and cleared her mind, leaving her to focus on putting enough force in her legs and arms. She was ready to pounce when she felt her limbs lock, preventing her from moving.

“Caden! What is the meaning of this?” She barked at the last of the spirits, knowing that only he would dare to do something like this. However, the pranks of her companion only happened when there was no danger for her life, therefore he had to have a good reason for exercising his powers over her in such a way now.

“You must wait, honourable one.” Caden’s baritone song was like the beating of a war drum, the way it echoed in her head.

No sooner had the words emerged, when a battle axe passed over her head and split the vampire’s skull. The monster’s scream of pain was cut short as shadow followed the weapon and a war scythe cut through its neck, beheading it in one single motion. There was no mistaking the person who wielded such a fearsome weapon with such speed and grace.

“You have much to learn, Calypso.” The woman spoke in a hoarse voice and impaled the monster through the heart for good measure. There was displeasure in her one emerald green eye and accusation in the ruined mess that was the empty crater of her left eye. The lower part of her face was obscured by a delicate chainmail veil, which hid the monstrous scars which stretched over the left cheek nose and jaw. But that and her raven black thin hair only furthered her image as a spectre of death, a nickname by which only a few dared to refer to her.

“Lady Ire!” The young Witch Hunter exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, knowing that a reprimand was coming. “I…”

“Save your excuses for the Silent Knights at Esthergrad.” Ire took the kampilan and examined it. “You are strong, girl. Strong enough for me to personally take interest in your training. Only nineteen and you have contracted four spirits.” She walked to Calypso and handed the weapon to her.

“You have the potential to become one of the Thirteen, but that will not happen if you allow overconfidence to hinder you.” The Witch Hunter offered her a hand to help her stand.

“Lady Ire, you mentioned Esthergrad. Weren’t we supposed to go to Montgomery’s Landing next?” Calypso gathered the courage to ask. She could feel her companions’ glee at watching her question the senior member of her order.

After all, Ire of Segenburg was one of the strongest Witch Hunters, having contracted sever greater spirts. It was no wonder she was one of the Thirteen. Her skill and experience, in dealing with the monsters that feasted on humanity, was outshined only by the God-slayer. On top of that, Ire was the one who had final say on when Calypso could venture out into the Wilds as a proper independent Witch Hunter. Until that day comes, the girl would be travelling with her.

“That is correct.” Lady Ire whistled and two black steads emerged from the thick bushes of the woods. “The Aether is in turmoil and if you were not busy making a fool of yourself, your companions would have noticed it. Whatever it is, it has happened near Esthergrad. We will be there by noon tomorrow if we keep a steady pace. You will have to heal on the way.”

The shock that had overtaken him lasted only a moment. With a savage cry, Nathaniel charged at the Witch Hunter and pushed her away from Paul. He knelt at his friend just to see the light of life leave his eyes. This was not how it was supposed to go. The two of them were meant to for greatness, Nathaniel had known it deep inside. But only if it was the two of them. Now he was alone in a foreign land, with no friends and no one he could trust. And next to him was a murderous insane Witch Hunter.

Rage consumed him as he lunged at Irene. Nathaniel could feel that she hit him in the ribs, but he ignored the pain, all that mattered was revenge. She would pay for this. This close, there was no space for a proper swing of his feast, that’s why he opted for using his elbow instead. Last night she wanted a dirty fight, well she would get it now. Nathaniel had learned a lot of trick fighting pirates and mutineers.

A sharp pain in his right thigh cleared the haze that had clouded his mind. The Witch Hunter had used her knife and his hit to drop to one knee and slice his leg. There was no telling how deep the wound was, but the fact he was still standing meant that it could be ignored for a little while. However, Irene had a different plan. Like a coiled spring, she pushed up and hit him with a very powerful uppercut.

As Nathaniel hit the soft ground, he saw the woman spit blood. It took him a moment to notice that his hunting knife was embedded in the side of her chest. Good, she was a step closer to death. This gave him new strength and Nathaniel pulled the falchion from its scabbard at his belt. He noted her movements were sluggish and the amount of blood staining her vest was growing larger and larger. At would take was a single swing and he would send her to the infernal realm where she belonged. Nothing could be left to chance, this lesson the young man had learned early on in life.

He smiled and prepared the deliver the final blow when his falchion was intercepted by the Witch Hunter’s great sword. Nathaniel blinked in surprise. The weapon was at least a couple of meters away. So, who was it that wielded it? Moving his head to the side felt like it took ages, mostly because his mind refused to accept what he was seeing. It was Irene. The one holding the sword was the woman bleeding in front of him. But that was impossible.

No, this was something else. It only looked like the Witch Hunter, but on closer inspection it was different. Her eyes were bottomless dark pits of despair with bright red pupils, burning with cruelty and malice. Nathaniel had never heard of a monster of the Wilds that could mimic a human so perfectly.

“Watching her die by your hand would be poetic.” The thing purred in a poisonous tone far too similar to Irene’s own voice. “However, we cannot afford to waste the time, waiting for that one to resurrect.”

“Demon!” Nathaniel gasped, finally realising what the monster was. Their kind was only a legend, meant to scare little children. There were the odd rumours that witches sold their souls to them, but that was in exchange for power to fuel their fell incantations and curses.

“Very perceptive young human,” the thing laughed, “but incorrect. It matters not. Both sides tremble at the chaos that was created here, for the chains of fate have been broken.”

Nathaniel did not have time to ponder the demon’s words. The last thing he saw was the infernal creature’s steel glove speed towards his face.

Irene dropped the unconscious boy on the bed of the room she had rented. The inn of Esthergrad was nothing special, considering the town was a major trade spot. This was at the bottom of her list of concerns. On the other hand, one of the top ones was snoring gently on the bed with a large purple bruise covering the side of his face. Since the boy was not going to wake up anytime soon, she could deal with the other major issue.

“What were you talking about?” She hissed as she removed her vest and inspected it.

“I have no idea what you are referring to.” Her companion answered calmly.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I might have been bleeding out, but I was not dead.” Irene scoffed, noting that the garment would require some stitching to fix and a lot of washing. “Damn his luck. To think he would nick my heart after that uncoordinated lunge…”

“Not lucky. You were sloppy. I warned you to not let your guard down, but you did…”

“Spare me and answer the question.” She observed the blade of the hunting knife. It was long, but not enough to reach her heart after going through the lung. In other words, the young man was very lucky to stick her where he did.

“Very well.” It almost sounded like her companion had given up, but she knew better. It was very likely going to obscure some of the truth. “It was not only the minions of the infernal realm that observed the witch. Ludwig’s gaggle of tree-huggers were also keeping an eye on her.”

“That is something you should have told me.” Irene squashed the anger building in her. Now was not the time for it.

“Not really. It would have changed nothing.” The thing inside of her smiled. “You would have killed the witch either way.”

“True as that may be, I could have used her as bait!” The Witch Hunter slammed the knife into the wooden wall, burying the blade up to the hilt. “I have been trying for years to get my hands on a greater spirit for years!”

“That…” her companion hesitated. “That possibility did not occur to me.”

“You!” Irene inhaled deeply. “What is done, is done. Now, do explain why you revealed yourself like that without permission. You always bitch when I ask you to take a corporeal form.”

“My dear…” It began to weave a new lie like it always did when it started to answer with those words.

“Not this time.” She cut it off. “You will give me a straight answer or I will starve you for a week. Don’t think I cannot do it. I’ve had years to learn your habits.”

“Very well.” Irene could feel the spite in its words. “Both sides were starting to gather at that place. It was the easiest way I could protect you, according to our contract.”

“Why did you not kill this one then?” The Witch Hunter pointed at the boy.

“You could have done it time and time again, but you did not.” There was a hint of perverted pleasure in its words. “The witch and the blonde boy were mysterious that could have kept you occupied for a while. However, the one that intrigued you the most was this one.”

“Enough!” She roared, fury burning in her eyes.

“You cannot run from the truth, my dear.” Her companion sneered. “He was and still is the odd one out. I suspect whoever was pulling the strings, did not account for those three crossing your path, at least not together. Him, to keep you occupied - yes, but not all of them.”

“I said – enough!” The worst part was that the voice in her head was correct. It always was, whether she liked it or not. The contract that bound them to each other made sure of it.

Irene took a moment to calm down. There was nothing she could do to change what has happened. It would be best to focus her efforts in dealing with the consequences. Which meant she had to speak to the boy, a task she was not too ecstatic about.

“Consider this an opportunity my dear. We have stirred a hornets’ nest Both sides will do their best to find you. Bringing us closer to your goal.” There was a lot her companion was not telling, but it was right, she should take advantage of the situation. It wasn’t the first time her plans changed on the go.

“I need a drink.” Irene sighed and turned her head to the boy on the bed. She could try and think of a good way to deal with him, but making complicated plans was too much effort. The Witch Hunter grabbed the clay jug of water and poured onto his head. “Wake up, idiot!”

“What!” The young man jumped from the bed, looking as disorientated and confused as a new-born doe. His eyes stopped on her and his hand darted to the empty scabbard on his belt, while uttering a single word. “You!”

“I’m not in the mood.” Irene pushed him back on the bed with one hand. “You have two options. Join me for a drink and explanation downstairs, once you can stand firmly on your feet. Or try to run and die.”

She turned her back on him and left the room. The narrow hallway was shrouded in gloom, the two scones on the walls doing little to keep away the darkness of night. The floorboards were old and stained by years of spilt beer and neglect, however, it also meant it was easy to find the staircase leading to the ground floor. She only needed to follow the light and the sounds of the gathered multitude that was drinking their problems away.

Finding a free table was not as hard as she imagined. Despite her expectations, the crowd of locals and guests had gathered at the centre of the spacious room, cheering and singing along a travelling troupe of bards and dancers. Sometimes Irene was almost jealous of the simple life normal people enjoyed. But being a Witch Hunter had its perks, she only had to look at the skinny owner and a serving woman was heading her way with a large mug of beer.

“Keep them coming until I return to my room,” Irene spoke softly and pushed a handful of coins in the woman’s callous hand. Judging by the wide-eyed look she received; the amount was more than enough, however, Irene didn’t really care for how much she spent. Money had little meaning to her.

She was on her third mug when the boy sat at the opposite side of the barrel that served as a table. There was mistrust written on his face and his posture screamed worry. He was clearly uncomfortable without his weapon. Well, she would return it to him, once and if, she was sure he would not be a problem.

“I’m listening.” His tone was as cold as the harshest winter.

“Please, try not to be melodramatic.” Irene faked a smile, doing a poor job at it, based on the scowl that appeared on the young man’s face.

“You are lucky to be alive,” she began. “Sadly, your friend was not. That is my fault for underestimating the witch.”

“You lie so shamelessly.” Her companion whispered in her head. “Very well done.”

“I don’t understand.” The boy’s stoic face cracked and doubt entered his eyes.

“She conjured an apparition and while I made sure she was dead; it had sunk its insidious claws in the two of you.” Irene pushed the mug towards the young man. “Paul lacked your fortitude and I was forced to kill him. You, on the other hand, fought well and if I had not stopped you in time, you would have taken your own life, mislead by the evil spirit.”

“I… I don’t know what to say… It felt so real…” She could see doubt consume him. All that was left was a final push and he would no longer be a problem.

“Trust me, a Witch Hunter would never kill a person without reason.” Irene mimicked a tired smile. “That said, I cannot let you roam freely. At least not for a while. There is no telling what side-effects the witches spell could have.”

“So, are you going to kill me?” He asked, the anger in his eyes replaced with genuine worry.

“I am not a mindless murderer, sailor.” The Witch Hunter laughed at him. “It all depends on how well you can keep what happened a secret...” A familiar irritating sensation washed over her. “And how well you can keep your mouth shut. Actually, forget you can talk for a while.”

Irene finished her poorly veiled threat as the inn’s door open. All heads turned to look at the one who entered so late at night and as quickly eyes were diverted and conversations resumed. A young Witch Hunter stood in the door frame. It wasn’t anyone Irene recognised. Not too tall and with a short red hair, reaching to her shoulder on the right side and shaved on the left. The disparity was the same with her eyes. The right one was emerald green, but the left one retained its natural hazel colour. A clear sign this was a trainee since she had not yet lost her humanity.

“Shit.” Irene cursed as a second Hunter entered the room. This one was hard not to recognise. The one-eyed cyclops Ire stood out like a sore thumb with her raven black hair and chainmail veil.

Their journey to Esthergrad started at a rather high pace, but it was not something that would make the horses struggle. However, very soon, Lady Ire had given a command that they had to hurry and it turned into a mad dash. The two of them had pushed the poor animals beyond what they could endure, killing them just a few kilometres outside of the town. But they managed to reach Esthergrad just after midnight.

By the time they found an inn with some free rooms, her companions had reached their limit and could no longer enhance her endurance. It was a harsh reminder that she needed to grow stronger. However, it was nothing compared to the surprise of seeing the God-slayer sitting at the far end of the inn’s communal room. To think, she had failed to sense the powerful spirits, Lady Nox no doubt commanded, was astonishing. Calypso stepped aside to let her tutor pass through and take the lead. It was the only way she could approach such a revered figure.

Her young mind was full of all sort of questions she wanted but would never dare ask. Before she realised it, the two of them were standing before the God-slayer and everything she thought of saying evaporated. Making Lady Ire’s words all that more shocking.

“What are you doing here, Irene? Who is the boy?” There was an utter absence of any friendliness in that question. It actually sounded accusing. It took all of Calypso’s will to not stare like a gaping fool at her mentor.

“Ire! Fancy seeing you here.” There was poorly hidden mockery in the Witch Hunter’s tone. “It’s none of your damn business… But to answer your question, I’ve taken a request from this young fellow.” Irene looked at Calypso, measuring her from head to toe. “Who’s the pet?”

“Odd. I’ve not heard of any requests from this area.” Ire scoffed. “Then again, too few in the order know what you are up to…”

“Look here, you one-eyed cyclops, I answered your question as a show of goodwill. The least you could do is answer mine.” With a single statement, this Witch Hunter shuttered the image the girl had created for the noble order she belonged to. Instinctively, Calypso reached for the kampilan at her waste at the insult directed towards her mentor.

“To think you share the same blood as Lady Nox, bogles the mind.” Lady Ire spat the words. “This is Hunter-in-training Calypso Pech. Remember this one well, child. This is Irene Navina, younger sister of the God-slayer Irene Nox, and a stain on our order’s honour.”

Like that the spell that had overtaken her broke. It should have been obvious. The lack of reaction from her companions, the way the locals ignored this woman, the small differences in the face and posture, they were all the signs the young Witch Hunter had missed.

“Was that so hard,” Irene snickered before adding, “you spectral bitch”

“Show some respect!” Calypso couldn’t hide her outrage any longer and this time did not stay her hand and grabbed the handle of her blade.

“You better keep this one on a short leash, Ire.” For the first time, Irene’s eyes shifted towards the girl. “Before she gets hurt.”

Calypso was about to draw her weapon when Lady Ire placed a hand on her shoulder. The message was clear, now was not the time. So far, their little altercation had not attracted the attention of the other patrons, but a fight would surely do. And there was the honour of the Witch Hunters that had to be considered. It would not do good for people to see them bicker amongst themselves.

“That’s better.” Irene smiled and stood up, making her way towards the only staircase leading to the upper floors. “Come sailor, I don’t think our company is welcomed here.” With that, the obnoxious Witch Hunter and the frightened youth left.

“Why did you let her speak this way to you, Lady Ire?” Calypso inquired after a short while. “Is it because she is kin of the God-slayer?”

“No, child.” Her mentor shook her head and sat on the now empty table. “I am sure Lady Nox would be the first to chastise her sibling. However, it is unwise to underestimate Irene Navina. Despite not having contracted a single spirit, she is more than capable of killing you.”

“Wait! Is this true?” Calypso couldn’t help but stare at Lady Ire. “She hasn’t made a contract yet? Then how has she gone through the transformation?”

“Alas, it is the truth. This is why you, and me for that matter, could not sense her presence in Esthergrad. It is because of this; the order has no clue what she is doing or where she is for most of the time.” Her mentor tightened her hand into a fist, before unclenching it slowly. “I do not know how she has become a Witch Hunter and it worries me.”

“Understand this, Calypso,” Lady Ire stared right into her, her hoarse voice carrying a tone, the girl had not heard before. “Irene Navina is dangerous, to the point I would not put it past her harming her adoptive sisters. The best the Thirteen could do was make sure to forbid her from returning to the Frozen Keep.”

“Is she really that skilled to oppose the Thirteen?” The girl could not believe she had to ask this question at all.

“I am not sure.” There was doubt in her mentor’s voice, an unusual thing in itself. “I have sparred with her a few times and have won all our bouts. But I was left with the distinct impression, she did not take me seriously. I do not know how she would behave in a proper fight. As such, it is best you avoid her.”