"Cold. Why is it always so cold?"
Nadiya let out a tired exhale as her eyes cracked open, greeted by gloomy gray skies above. The same ones from the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. Flurries drifted down, dusting the layers of cloaks she was buried under. Her eyes drifted aside, paying little mind to the half-destroyed roof above her and fixating instead upon the fireplace whose life was nearly snuffed, then the tattered remains of a calendar several years out of date. She drew a breath, pressing herself up with a quiet groan to reach for a nearby stack of wood, tossing a couple of pieces in to feed the coals. She panned out the shattered window beside her, taking in the streets of the Purity District. The Lothar Safehouse directly across had long since been abandoned, black soot covering its entryway, not to mention the sickly tendrils that clogged the stairwell within. After all these years, they had regrown, small eyes beginning to flick open along them. A problem for another time.
With a stretch, Nadiya pulled away from the window, glancing to her cracked watch. Sundown was near. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she moved toward the corner beside the fireplace, reaching for her gun belt to fasten before donning her cloak. She slung her day bag over her shoulder before going to retrieve her Puretek, pulling it from under her makeshift pillow and holstering it. The rifle that had been resting against the crumbling wall to the side was soon taken into hand, as was an unlit lantern that sat beside it. With the fireplace slowly coming to life, she grabbed a twig and stuck it into the coals for a makeshift match, the small flames that had begun to flicker catching it quickly. Soon, the lantern held a steady glow, its casing closed before she attached it to a hook on her belt. An eerie silence had lingered throughout, save for the constant ring in her ears and the ticking of her watch. Time was running out.
She descended from the second floor of the broken building, its state not a unique one in the ruins of the City's center. Little had been left untouched. The All-Faith Temple was half the height it should have been, the interior now a mess of rubble from collapsing in upon itself. The streets were littered with debris and bones and various sorts of viscera, most of it eldritch and inhuman. The demons did not leave waste from their mortal prey. Though the area was one of the safer zones to linger about during the day, the same could not be said for night. Those who had perished in the Temple's collapse fueled an army for the night's droves. Neighborhoods became deathtraps. Quieter locations were a must for the night's hunts where the most work could be done effectively. Nadiya pulled out a paper from her coat, confirming the location for her next rotation and making way toward the Guided Temple. Staying in any one place meant death. Just ask her comrades in the Safehouse who now clogged the stairs.
The streets had begun to collect the dust that continued to drift from the sky. Large spires of ice jutted out from various buildings and streets, competing for the skyline. Nadiya began to move through what had been the park, its foliage now dead and decaying, the waterfall and lake a frozen sheet. The bridge had been broken since it all started, but the ice was more than thick enough to walk over. Its dangers only really showed at night.
Up she went, ascending the steps to the Guided Temple, its tower remarkably still standing. Before long, she was setting up in the clock tower, placing her bag to the side along with the lantern. She dug into the bag, producing and counting the remaining stripper clips and loose rounds. A silent curse followed a final count of twenty-three. Her Puretek was not faring much better, its glow a fraction of what it had been, its stone cracked and brittle. The question of 'how?' was one Nadiya had quit asking months ago. She knew her own timer was ticking down, too. Alas, no matter how many Gods and men had died so far, her oath still lived. The Darkwald chambered a round.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the first screeches filled the air. Nadiya drew her cloak tighter against her body, the bitter bite of an eternal winter piercing through to her core, a feeling that was anything but foreign. She had long ceased letting her fears show outwardly, yet showing was hardly the same as feeling. Nothing could ever get rid of the pit in her stomach, that nagging feeling at the back of her mind, reminding her of mortality, reminding her of the promised end to each Darkwald's path, one way or another.
Her attention was caught by the cracking of the ice far below amid those thoughts. Oil spilled outward, conjoining into dozens of solid limbs that began to race throughout the park, growing longer and longer while leaving streaking marks in their wake. The demon's central mass, little more than a blob of teeth and pestilence, soon emerged from the crater it had made, and Nadiya had just as quickly placed it within her sights. Still, those thoughts lingered. She knew how many rounds remained. She knew they were not enough for the night. How had she only realized this now? A quiet, internal whisper interrupted those thoughts.
"Hesitation is your failure."
She paused, chewing on the inside of her cheek, pouring over those words. Perhaps it was fitting to hear them now of all times. Given to her the first day of receiving her rifle, repeated upon her potential last. She huffed out an amused breath at the thought before drawing deep, deciding to finish the instructions given that day.
"Fire," she replied, flicking the safety off before her finger squeezed against the trigger. A bellowing roar sounded as the round zipped downward, piercing the demon through its core cavity, spilling more and more oil and miasma upon the once-clean ice. The Darkwald chambered another round.
For years, this process had been repeated, and tonight would be no different. The noise would naturally draw attention, and naturally would the Darkwald eliminate the fiends curious enough to investigate. On Nadiya went, downing more and more fiends as they came. With her rifle empty, she reached for another clip to reload, only to hear the tolling of a bell. She froze. It had been years since a noise like that rang throughout the city. Perhaps it would not have been so concerning had it not sounded from directly above her, much less from a belltower that had lost its centerpiece long ago. Nadiya's rifle lowered from the growing pile of demon corpses below, her mainhand quickly reaching down to draw her Puretek as she swung about, aiming it upward and squeezing the trigger. Rather than an outpouring of light, Nadiya found a cloud of dust erupting as the stone shattered, fragments and sparks raining down to the ground. Tired, disbelieving eyes stared along the ironsights for a moment before finally focusing past them toward the shadows above.
From the dark recesses of the belltower, four figures dropped down. Three appeared to be statues, cracked and worn, each carrying a fasces, their limbs and faces unmoving in their motions. The central figure between them was wrapped in bony wings, icy flesh stretched between each spine offering a sickening display as they spread outward, revealing an ice-riddled Rexit with glowing white eyes. He wore a crown of thorny blackiron that etched into his scalp, his armor filled with jagged spikes of the same make and icy spires protruding from within it. A tail flicked to and fro, a spiky ball acting as a flail upon its tip digging into the rotting wooden floors. He brought a hand upward, turning the surrounding snowfall to ash and beckoning it toward his palm to form a pike. It was him. It was-
"Judgement," a ghastly voice echoed and repeated, its origin point impossible to pin down, yet all but certainly coming from the Rexit's unmoving lips. That piercing cold had only grown throughout Nadiya's form, reaching every fiber of her being. The Puretek fell to the ground, the fractured stone within its clamps crumbling to dust. The Rexit began to step forward, pike held in both hands. Nadiya felt frozen in place. Frozen in fear. Her mind began to race once more, yearning for a life where duty was a fairytale, where her oath was reserved for the knights within it.
"Hesitation is your failure," the voice echoed once more, its tone leveled and stern yet offering a brief second of reprieve against the Rexit's torment. Her eyes dilated, fingers twitching, curling, then clenching, her mind fighting back against an eternity of the spirit's toying. Her hand shot to her side, drawing forth her dagger as she forced herself to move forward. She lunged toward death, and the Blackiron Sovereign looked to meet her. The tip of the pike buried within Nadiya's chest as her dagger came down, digging into the nape of the Rexit's neck. The two wavered in place on the tower's ledge, gray eyes meeting white. All was silent, until it wasn't.
The Rexit began to cackle, one heard again and again in endless, haunting dreams. He lofted a hand to grab at Nadiya's shoulder, pressing the Darkwald closer to the ledge as life continued to drain from her, crimson staining her worn leathers. Nadiya's eyes struggled to maintain their focus, their world a blur as the words rattled on.
"Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die."
That frozen touch threatened to return, waging war against a lifetime of preparation that had taught acceptance of her path's guarantee. That death was an inevitability, one way or another. That one can die in fear, or one can die in valor.
With a strained breath, Nadiya's other arm wrapped around the spiked armor, her grasp upon the buried dagger holding firm as her footing planted. Every ounce of her strength found her tugging back as much as she could manage, looking to send herself and the Blackiron Sovereign plummeting downward. As the air hit Nadiya's face, death's approach was welcomed. For once since she could remember, even in the embrace of death, there was a warmth felt within. A feeling of freedom. A heaviness lifted. The chains of blackiron severed as all went black.
"Countess! Come quick! She's awakened!" came a loud call that soon faded in the distance.
Nadiya's eyes cracked open, straining against the natural light that flooded the room. She felt weak, like weights were chained to each arm. She glanced around as her eyes adjusted, taking in the room and quickly recognizing it as one within the Mekrov estate in the heart of the city. A prestine skyline peeked through the window in front of her, the All-Beacon's untouched spire glistening in the sun's warmth. Her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of everything. Had it all been some horrid nightmare? How long had she slept for?
Her head turned toward the nightstand, spying a calendar. She squinted, certain that she had misread the numbers. Eight months? The questions continued to race as a hand lofted, hovering over her chest before slowly drifting downward. Her fingers curled around the fringes of her collar, bringing it down a couple of inches as her chin angled down for a look.
She was greeted with a long, jagged scar.
