The sound of Captain Omeyega’s body crashing into the waves, made her cringe. What a waste. What a shame.

She stepped away from the side of the helm and hurried to the other. She didn’t want to see if the girl would come up again. She hadn’t been lucky enough to break her neck first chance she got.

Connecting herself with the dhow, the strange wood and structure she had spent hours making herself familiar with through meditation, she reached out for the bond she shared with her people, her source of greater power. It sparkled through her like fireflies and the dhow started moving. At first a little rocky but still at a speed they hadn’t had all night.

The technique the Sinner was moving was quite similar to the one she had observed Captain Omeyega using, but the girl had been much more skilled and fine-motored. She had extracted energy from algae and fish, from the ocean itself without leaving a mess of dead biomass in the sea. The Sinner had never seen something like this before. Without even trying, she knew she could never do something as remarkable as this.

What a waste. What a shame.

At least she could finally go home. It was a cold comfort, suitable for herself.

She shook her head, calming her mind and heart. It was always difficult to penetrate a person’s mind and then be out of there in just the right moment. Difficult but imperative, especially in cases like this one. She would have preferred to just poison her. The liquid with the golden touch looked, smelled and tasted like Vytralost for those who didn’t know any better. And it almost was. Only almost, however. When she had prepared the potion, she had added one ingredient that turned it from a strong but harmless potion into a slow, crawling poison. She had used it quiet a few times in the last five years. Captain Omeyega would have fallen ill once she had reached Itheki’s shore again, and died a few weeks later. Provided, the Sinner hadn’t given her the antidote. An elegant way to get rid of people, with almost no signs left behind. Right now, she had some odds and ends to take care of.

But first, she had to go home.

When she had pushed Captain Omeyega over board, Mangalin had been only just visible on the horizon. Now, with the very first rays of sunlight coloring the sky a shy pink, she could see the first island far better. Her breakneck speed added to that, of course. The one main advantage of her being the one to guide the ship now was, that she didn’t need to care about the strength she used.

The Sinner and Saint were not as powerful as a fully connected twospirit but powerful enough. There tradition was older than that of the Order, a fact a lot of Islanders took pride in. Only very few things had emerged from under the giant’s shadow as complete as the tradition of Sinner and Saint.

The Islanders had never been a warlike people and had held the giants of with a barrier forged from the magic thousands could provide. They had linked hearts and minds closely to give each other this strength. And that alone had saved them. But it had also revealed the darkness inside each and every one of them, made them aware of the monsters in their midst. Back then, the Linked Islands had been settled almost exclusively by elves. People with long lives and even longer memory. And even after the giants had given up to try and conquer the Islands, the inhabitants had been restless. Until the idea emerged, that the purest person among them should lead. The position of the Saint was born. For a while, during the Giant’s fall, everything was well for the Islands. Until the Nightlands got strong again and the Silent Prince - a man not of age but next in line - decided to invade the Islands in order to strengthen his claim.

Almost a hundred years of occupation followed. The elves, great mages, had little to no experience in actual warfare and couldn’t hold the humans off in the same way they had banished the giants. Guerilla warfare had taken a toll on the population but it had been there road to freedom. And after the Nightlanders had finally taken of, the Saint had gotten a counterpart: the Sinner.

The Saint was the light and heart of the Linked Islands. They protected and governed, free from hate and wrongs. No blood on their hands, no fault in their hearts.

The Sinner took all that. Right now, she took all that. Instinctively, she looked at her hands; red, brown and green blood dripping from her fingers. A sharp pain shot through her left arm, and she clutched her shoulder for a moment. She knew that pain. Her hand came back even more bloody than before. But this time, it was her blood. Another scar for another life she had taken.

Amari Omeyega was dead. She had survived longer than the Sinner had thought. A girl as strong as the tides, now slept at the bottom of the ocean.

She put two fingers up to the wound and closed it. The scar would never heal. None of her scars would. But she bore them, so her people didn’t have to. It was a fair price to pay.

When she finally got to Mangalin’s harbor, her shoulder still ached. Her eyes teared, her head throbbed and she felt sick in the stomach.

It wasn’t so much the struggle of the night but the weight of her sins that made her feel that way. She knew that feeling; it had started the second she crossed the shields around the Linked Islands and the magic of the place she’d been born in had held her again. She was the Sinner, and she returned home with five years worth of sin. It would take a while to get used to the new heaviness.

She did not dock at the public part of the harbor. The hour was early but already fisherpeople were getting out on their boats and she couldn’t meet any of them now. She couldn’t make a public appearance yet. So she chose the guard’s dock. Nobody dared to come near to the watchers’ quarters.

The watchers were people with the same training as her own and the only difference was, that their partners — the potential Saints they were bound to — had not been elected to rule. Most of the military that a Sinner commanded, was made of these watchers. Here, at the harbor of Mangalin, they were used as guards to control merchants, find potential thieves and of course stop drunkards from causing problems.

Apart from these official functions, every watcher worked for the Sinner, all the time. It was part of their oath. When she left the dhow, her legs shaky, her stance a bit swaying from the hours at sea, two watchers stood at attendance already. They had felt her coming closer. “Sinner”, they said.

She smiled grimly, looking into two identical faces. Light beige skin, eyes the color of coal and earth. Slim faces with a thin mouth. Hoods to cover the long dark hair and ears that were neither long nor pointy enough to pass as fully elven. Their mouths were closed but she knew, that if they were to open them, there would be a gap between the incisors.

“Watchers”, she nodded. She didn’t know their names. It was a strict policy among Sinners and Watchers that names were gone the second they had bound themselves to a potential Saint. Names were for those who might survive.

Both women silently escorted her to the barracks. Apart from the both of them, four other watchers sat inside. They too, wore the same face.

Surrounded by those she could trust, the Sinner relaxed. She felt their minds already tugging at hers. When the barracks door fell shut, all six watchers looked at her expectantly. For a moment, there was tension in the air. Until the Sinner exhaled deeply and hugged the woman closest to her. She knew her embrace was sweaty and gross, but none of them minded. One after another, they all hugged the Sinner, easing the weight on her chest a little, giving her a bit of warmth, a bit of comfort, a bit of home.