Catherine removed her priestess robes and used them to wipe away the paint that had masked her features, then knelt beside the priest to remove his keys and the shining blue spider that delivered the paralytic venom to his veins. It crawled to the safety of her shoulder. Under the disguise was the same outfit she had worn earlier, but the decorative spikes and chains were removed. The temple guards forbade her from returning to her room, even for a change of clothes.
Without wasting time, she sprang toward the colossal metal door, quickly finding the correct keys for all seven of the locks and pulling it open.
As she entered the chamber, the girl’s light steps echoed from the marble floor like the clashing metal of a distant battlefield. The velvet sheet seemed to whisper as it was thrown from the display table inside. As a sheer drop calls out to one who gazes over the edge, she felt the immense black sword call out to her. But the eternally razor-sharp blade was even darker than any void, forged from a metal unknown to any in Aon.
It was an ancient and storied weapon, wielded only by the most desperate of fools who no longer cared that they were sacrificing their own souls for its power. Catherine was not well-versed in the history of this impractically long blade that inspired her name, but it was commonly known to be one of the most powerful and cursed artifacts of legend.
“Hello Katherine,” she said with a growing smirk. “I’m Catherine, too. Let’s escape together.”
The obsidian hilt wrapped in black silk cord was smooth and welcoming to her touch. A piercing, strange pain shot through her hand as she lifted the sword from its resting place, despite the edge being securely sheathed.
“’Tis amazing what a little spellcraft and some good acting skills can avail you,” she said, tying the sheath to her belt. Her plan was simply to cause enough chaos to sneak back into her room, but when the high priest sent away the guards, she saw the opportunity and took it. This was a more rewarding prize than her meager belongings. As she ran out of the chamber, droplets of blood trailed behind, trickling from the hand that had touched the sword.
Before continuing her escape, she knelt beside the incapacitated priest and pressed her fingers against his neck. The spider’s venom wasn’t typically lethal, but men could die from it. Despite his harshness to her, she wasn’t ungrateful for all he’d done for the homeless little girl she used to be, and was glad when she felt his pulse. There was no more time to waste though, as the paralysis would only last a few minutes.
She crawled through the nearest window, clumsily, having to make extra effort to fit the long sword through while taking care to avoid a small fire, one of several she had built outside of as many temple windows as she dared. From the moment her boot touched the ground she was sprinting for a little-known part of the village’s wall that was so worn and overgrown that it was on the verge of collapsing. She had climbed it countless times in secret, and as always the familiar cracks and vines led her swiftly over it and into the wilderness beyond.
Her breath came in quick gasps as she ran herself nearly to exhaustion, but she never stopped moving, hidden under the shadows of the trees as she descended the mountainside. There was never a sign of anyone pursuing her, not that she truly expected any. No one would dare follow her this way for fear of the low elevation, but she knew that the dangerous and supernatural fog of the valleys would be held at bay by the ocean winds. This path was one she often tread in secret, dreaming of the day she’d have the courage to run away from the confining walls of her home forever. As long as she could hear the ocean to her right, and the insects of the forest did not become silent, she felt at ease.
A wicked smile grew as her continued successes began to dawn on her. Finally she couldn’t hold back the laughter anymore, and let it echo across the woods. Behind her lay the village of Misyrea and all its oppression. And ahead, freedom. Her heart beat fiercely with excitement. No longer would she be kept like a slave, forced to read religious texts and perform her duties to earn her meals. No more nonsensical stories of pompous gods and talking dragons she didn’t even believe in. With the Katherine Odachi in hand, she would be able to provide for herself, hunting or pilfering as she pleased.
Everything else could be taken care of by her magic. Never before had she been so proud of all the nights she had silently trespassed into the forbidden library. All she could remember of the arcane secrets of conjuration were at her disposal. True power could be hers at last, and no one but the Misyrean Holy Knights or a sorcerer from Pandoria itself could stop her. Not even the so-called “god-dragons” with their false claims of divinity could stand in her way. Soon, even they wouldn’t be able to challenge her. She had plans. Extravagant, unrealistic plans that she didn’t seriously intend on fulfilling, but plans nonetheless.
Suddenly she heard a terrifying roar on the beach outside the forest. It left her frozen in place for a moment, her hand sliding slowly to the sword hilt. Curiosity soon won out over caution, and she crept to a cliff that overlooked the ocean, using the thick vegetation to hide her from whatever beast could make such a sound. The spider riding her used this chance to crawl from her shoulder to a tree, and Catherine kissed its abdomen in farewell. Peeking out toward the shore, she saw red explosions and a blue light, but only when she inched closer to the cliff’s edge could she see the three strange beings on the beach below. One was clad in black armor, the other was a monstrous winged creature covered mostly in green and red scales. The third was a woman being helped off the ground.
Now was a good time to test her skills. After finding an area with bare earth loose enough for her needs, she used her finger to trace a symbol in the dirt. If only she had something to use as a grimoire, she wouldn’t have to draw a sigil each time to cast the spell, or keep a library of them memorized for that matter. Such a thing wasn’t easy to come by in a village that would rather burn books than read them, however. Next, she brought her hands together in the shape that she needed and, in a clear but quiet voice, sang the incantation. All three—the sigil, the hand sign, and the spell song—didn’t have to be exactly perfect, but mistakes could lead to horrifying and deadly results.
There was a feeling of the world becoming smaller. A sense not of the physical world, one beyond sight or hearing, reached out in all directions in search of what she needed. In the sky above the three was what she sought: a bat. Once she ‘felt’ what she desired, her mind attempted to connect with it. There was a wordless exchange between her mind and the bat, and once it submitted to a request it did not fully comprehend, Catherine saw the world through eyes not her own. She could not identify the species of bat, but its vision was beyond what she could have imagined, and the strangers were now as clear as if she stood beside them.
Catherine’s breath caught in her throat. The woman among the strangers... whoever... whatever she was... was amazing! Her skin was inhumanly smooth, unmarred by wrinkles or blemishes, and devoid of hair other than her eyebrows, long lashes, and the perfectly wavy hair that shined blue in the moonlight. The women of Misyrea were either plump or gaunt, but this woman’s form was a masterpiece, her curves sculpted to perfection, without a hint of bone or excess flesh.
But it was her eyes that caught Catherine’s attention and held it, transfixing her with a gleam more radiant than the jewels reserved for the altar of Goddess Rea. A face of soft curves encased these gems, from the arch of her eyelashes and brows, to her endearing, rounded nose and cheeks. And yet, it wasn’t just the physical splendor that bewitched Catherine; with her mind expanded as it was to connect with the bat, she perceived something more, an allure that defied description and eluded her understanding.
She had been warned of such beings, humanoid creatures rumored to inhabit the mountains to the south of her own and the islands beyond. Some were categorized, like trogs, elflings, and glitchen, all dubbed ancient foes of sapiens like herself. But until now, she believed them mere myths, spun to deter the ignorant from venturing beyond the borders of Mount Ophelia.
Guilt gnawed at her insides. Instead of this forbidden attraction, she should feel jealous of this woman’s beauty, or fearful that such a thing could mimic a sapien so closely. Such yearnings only brought trouble and shame. Acting on these feelings was considered a taboo worse than incest or crossbreeding, as they bore no hope of blessed creation. But no matter what she tried, no matter how many cuts she collected punishing herself or how many stripes she wore from the temple’s whip on her back and arms, her heart could not be changed.
The large creature picked up the woman and leapt into the air, using its set of feathered wings to gain altitude, and then folded them and spread the larger scaled ones to glide. They flew inland in a southern direction, and Catherine released her mind from the bat to watch them pass overhead. She wished that she could have met this strange woman, or at least heard her name. When she turned back toward the beach, the armored man had disappeared.
Impulsively, she made a decision. With nowhere else in particular to go, she began to plan out a path to the south.
