Lieutenant Cooper had no death wish, of that she swore to Sanctum and back, though her actions repeatedly proved her wrong. As she charged she lowered her blade and skewered the beast in its hind leg, letting out a yell of frustration as she tried to pry an arm from the amalgamation. It swung its mighty head around, its neck far longer than Cooper had bargained for, grabbing her by her shoulder plate and swinging her like a rag doll. Hitting the ground in a heap, feet fighting to get a grip on the cold ground.

The beast reared up, its front legs pawing, slashing at the air before they came down hard. Cooper barely had time to roll out of the way, the snow crunching down where her skull once was. She scrambled away, almost slipping. She reached for her sword only to find it still stuck in the beast’s side. Swallowing, she ran. She ran hard and fast away from whatever the hell that thing was.

Feet — what she assumed were feet — thundered behind her. The large being tearing through the branches, shaking the trees. She barely had to move her legs anymore, moving forward from momentum alone. An earth—shattering wail broke through the air, birds flying out before her.

Her heart hammered in her chest, but she dared not look back. She dared not look back, even as she re—entered the clearing. The beast disappeared into the distance, chasing a woman that had long since gone. She huffed, doubling over. Her next few breaths came out in a strange, strangled laugh. Face wet with tears and sweat, she laughed; chest heaving and no longer caring about the sound. She had lived.

“Take that you big bastard,” she managed to wheeze through the haze, straightening herself out and stretching her back backwards. She heaved another relieved laugh, staring out into the woods. They had finally worked in her favour.

She was thrown to the ground with such a force that her lungs ejected any and all air they had held. Metal against bone, her breastplate flattening under the weight. She groaned, pinned to the frozen ground. A shuffle. A groan.

Then nothing.

Lieutenant Cooper almost wanted to die. It seemed likely that she would, pinned in the ever—growing pile of snow by some unmoveable object. What a way to go.

The thing on top of her stood slowly, shaking itself forcefully. The air filled with the sweet smell of decay. It creaked, back arching as it pulled away from her. She feebly pulled herself forward, the movement setting a darkened vignette in her vision. Her stomach whirled. With great effort, her ribs screaming in their jigsaw state, she rolled over. She rolled over, to see Mycah Hawkins. What was left of Mycah Hawkins.

Her captain’s skin was grey and lifeless, her veins bulging black. She panted with the effort of simply sitting, keeping herself upright. Unfocused eyes found Cooper’s. Dull eyes, unseeing. Without hesitation, Cooper used the last of her strength to grip onto her captain’s hand, panting though it killed her.

“Mycah,” said Cooper, the words barely louder than a breath. Hawkins’ throat bobbed. Cooper stared at the movement with darkened vision. “I don’t want to die.”

“We weren’t trained for this,” said Hawkins monotonously, staring through Cooper rather than at her. “I’m scared, Cooper.”

“Can’t… die like this,” lamented Cooper, her breath shuddering. “Do you… do you have… potion left?” Mycah — Mycah not Hawkins for once in their lives — nodded. Cooper assumed it was a nod, her head bobbing heavily forward and back on a jellied neck. “Half… and half. Go out…fightin’”

Mycah’s lips quirked into a ghost of a smile. Hands weakly pawing at her satchel with one of hers hands until she unearthed a small glass vial. Cooper watched as she struggled with the stopper, how one of her arms hung limp and unyielding. She helped pull off Mycah’s gauntlets, then her own, grasping her hand around the thin vial as Hawkins tore off its top. Offering it to Hawkins first, no matter how her ribs sat in soup in her chest plate, Hawkins desaturated colour looked worse. Hawkins gingerly sipped at it, wincing as she finished her share. A wail escaped her lips, eyes pressed tightly shut. She fought through the pain, through her arm trying to reattach itself, her muscles knitting each other back in place. It wasn’t enough for both of them. It would have to be enough. The vial was dumped into Cooper’s gasping mouth, the liquid hitting the back of her throat in a gag. Drowning. She almost breathed it in. Hawkins in her dazed state held a hand over Cooper’s lips, forcing her to swallow it all back down when it rushed back up her throat.

The potion was weak without it’s other half. She knew this. She knew this going in, that there wouldn’t be enough for the both of them. It didn’t quite strike her what that would mean back then, those seconds, those aeons ago. Her ribs reformed, because of course they did, but so did her nerves that now boiled her alive. Sending signals of how she was broken. How she was hurt. She bit past them, and forced herself to her feet, dragging Mycah’s to hers in an agonising tug. They watched each other now, curious in their now understanding. Cautious.

Mycah watched her as if she would fall apart in her absence. “Cooper—”

“It’s Alek,” said Cooper with an attempt at a smile, “my name, it’s Alek.”

“Alek,” whispered Mycah. “we need to go.”

It was hard to track down a creature that seemingly only showed itself when it wanted to, and Cooper almost cursed herself for wanting to hear the painful shrieking that the creature emitted; if only to just make the process that bit easier. She craved a fight. The potion, though weakened, flowed through her veins spiked her heart rate and electrified her brain. Energy that needed to be expelled in one last battle, an energy that could only be quelled through drawing blood. She wanted to rip out her sword from its flank and attack it once more.

Her body, however, wanted different. Ribs no longer soup, but barely held together by spite alone. Her organs seemed to flip with any movement, rearranging themselves and falling out of place as she struggled forward. One hand gripped at her side, the other coming to rest on Mycah’s shoulder, steering her.

Mycah didn’t look any better. Nothing more than a walking corpse, shambling forward, arms shaking with the effort to hold up her sword. She swayed as she moved, almost keeling over and dragging them both to the ground several times in a matter of minutes.

Cooper had no doubt in her mind that they would die here.

Snow powder under their feet, flying out before them with each useless step. Feet no doubt blackened by cold beneath their metal boot caps. Dead women walking. She only just regretted not using the entire damn potion on herself, though she’d never leave the woods alive. Her stomach rolled at the thought, and she swallowed down more bile.

The sound of the beast broke through the trees. It came from all around them. A sickening, wet whimper that made Cooper want to vomit again. It sounded like a dog being skinned alive, the wailing echoing around them.

A clear crimson path had been painted almost as if for them. Cooper’s stomach clenched at the sight. There was no doubt what it was. There was very little to leave to the imagination. Not with the deep groove it lay in as if something – or someone – was dragged. It was almost beautiful, if not for the truth behind its cause. They followed the pathway that was carved out for them, the silence swathing them. Still, the only sounds that could be heard came from the travelling companions themselves through armour and pained breathing. She could feel her legs shake under her, protesting with every movement. She gripped Mycah close against her side, much to her benefit as well as keeping the barely conscience woman on track.

A flash of colour shot through the trees. Metal clanging, this time not from the duo, grew louder. Angry yells and grunts came from beyond the ridge, close to the old campsite. Shrieking, loud and piercing scraped through the air. It was closer now than ever before.

And there it was. The creature that had stalked them for who knows how long. It was the reason behind the stench of decay. Or death. Thick muscle intertwined the exposed bones of its top half, pulsating, red and hungry. Its jaw snapped open and shut as if measuring the size of the people before it. Its body was wet and glistening, dripping with Gods know what. It looked as if it were fused from the bones of different creatures, held together with raw muscle. It clicked as it moved, a horrible sound of cracking bones, dry and macabre. It tilted its skull-like head to one side, regarding the newcomers. Cooper held back a shudder at the sight of its many, long human teeth.

It stood tall, quiet. A wicked tangle of muscle and bone that towered over them, looking down on the two Templars as if it had won the best prize. Cooper stared up into its shiny black eyes, seeing her own battered body reflected right back at her. She ran a hand over her mass of hair and let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

For the fight she had anticipated, had wanted, it sure wasn’t what she expected.

She let go of Mycah, letting her find her own footing and stepped forward. The beast snorted, horselike. It was smelling them, she was sure. Cooper drew a deep breath, pushing all thoughts out of her mind. All that mattered was the task that awaited her. She strode forward, her eyes never leaving the beast even with its huge bulk blocking the sun. Her heart thundered in her chest, fear gripping her throat tight. The beast snarled and bared its fangs at her, exposing rows of sharp white teeth. It was so close she could feel the heat radiating off its body. She edged her way around it, letting it be distracted by Mycah who shook in her spot, raising her too-big sword in front of her with great effort.

Cooper had managed to sneak all the way down its hide, body fighting her the whole way. She reached out to grasp the sword in its side, fingers brushing the hilt. She almost circled her fingers around it before the beast lunged forward. Hawkins went flying, landing hard on her back before disappearing under a mass of black fur. Cooper lunged forward, almost losing her balance.

The beast shrieked and turned back around, levelling Cooper with its glare. She let out a breath and braced herself. She dived out the way, regretfully, as it charged towards her. It had no strategy, no motive. It acted closer to a dog with a bone. A big murderous dog that stank of death. Cooper got up with a groan, her insides no longer intact. She coughed weakly. Pain lanced through her ribs, but she ignored it. She took a step forward, ready to meet the beast when it came again. It ignored her this time, racing past her. She looked over just in time to watch it take a bite out of Mycah, the woman’s mouth formed into a silent scream. Despite everything, Cooper pushed herself forward, curling her hand around the hilt of her sword and ripping it from its side with a grunt, her shoulder popping.

The beast roared, bringing down its clawed hand, turning to bat away the young templar. She stumbled back, bouncing off the hard bark of a tree. Dazed, Cooper staggered to the side, sword almost falling out of her hand. The creature rounded in on her, its soulless black gaze locked on her. Its upper half reared up, leaving it balanced on what seemed to be its tail. Its jaw widened, splitting from the centre outwards with a snap. What the hell was this thing? Was the only thought Cooper had before it lunged at her again, lightning quick, effectively pinning her to the frostbitten ground. Hawkins was standing now, slashing at it with her one intact arm. As much as it turned her stomach, Cooper couldn’t help but stare at the mass of meat and gore that was left of Mycah’s arm. She did not want want to know where the rest of it was.

Its skeletal deer face was now inches from Cooper’s, its furious breath carrying the scent of death and rot that filled her nostrils.

The world was silent again, but for the ringing in her ears. Her body screamed as she struggled under the weight of the unstoppable monster. Its upper body crushed her breastplate under its weight, causing her to gasp and choke as it broke her ribs one by one. Its claws dug into her sides, causing her veins to catch fire and shrivel in her flesh. Her body burned from the inside, eyes watering as she fought to breathe. She could almost feel her body swelling. The world was dimming slowly; the pain racing through her nerves was all she could focus on.

“Omera, forgive me,” she choked out, voice creaking like the creature above her who seemed content in watching her burn. Nothing in its ivory face showed any emotion as it clicked its leathery tongue against sharp teeth. It sniffed at her leisurely as if it wasn’t currently under attack. She let out a weak whimper, lips quivering.

Mycah lay beside her now, dull eyes staring up at the clouds. She wasn’t dead yet. Cooper wished she was. Her breaths came out in wet, guttural wheezes. Cooper wasn’t much better.

She prayed her false God would spare them, or make her death quick. Her Goddess, Mother of Darkness and the Protector of the dead. After everything Cooper had given up her prayers should be heard, after most of her life following Her, they must be answered. If the Goddess she was raised to follow was real, she had to listen after everything Cooper had sacrificed. Her entire life had been in service to the foreign God. The lives she ruined in Her name. Omera. She never claimed to be a good person but damn was her life corrupted and meaningless.

She wanted to scream, but the sound got caught in her throat, caught in a watery gurgle. Breathing in the cold, putrid air was harder, the heat in her skin was impossible to avoid. The world was black and hot and heavy.

She lay dying under the canopy of needle-like leaves, the sounds of her squadron fighting and dying around her. Blood-mixed tears streamed down her face as the realisation hit her. She would never return home. Maybe, if the afterlife was real, she would be with her family again, her true family. Her mother, grandparents, and the children she had been tasked with raising that she had failed, who were now mere names etched in the Temple logbooks.

She had one last failure to give. Her death would ultimately mean nothing. Just one more dead Templar. It was only one small mercy that she wouldn’t live long enough to become a Silent Sister.

She struggled for breath as her lungs had failed her, refusing to take in air that she sorely needed. Her eyelids felt heavy, fluttering shut. Maybe she would finally find peace in whatever comes next.

If she could only see Iarden one last time—