The First Instance

     The next few days were more or less the same for him. Walk, practice, and walk some more. Overtime he learned to change his methods of practicing by practicing on actual objects and challenging himself in increments.

By the end of each day he’d try to make a new miniature ice sculpture just to gauge his progress. At first it was just more or less the same little balls and nubs, but soon enough he was able to make a little more refined details like improvements on the overall shape, the outline of the hair, and so on. Still not much of a face though but that didn’t stop Haetia from talking to it.

His nail polish had chipped away in increments until it was gone. His eyeshadow faded away with time. Not that he really noticed either.

The path of flowers laid out by the locket was always fairly straight with only some slight elongated curves, then back to straight again.

Come today however, as he was traveling it out of the blue corrected itself and made a sharp right angle. Perplexed, Haetia looked off into the distance that it had avoided. As far as he could tell, nothing. It was just as quiet as it always was now that he was on his own.

He held the necklace and muttered to himself, “What’s wrong?”

…No response. Not that he expected one. He was always trusting of the locket though and didn’t see much of a reason to ignore its guidance now. If Linias was able to see through trees and the like, he didn’t really doubt that it could do the same.

So, as confused as he was Haetia still followed the trail. Not even a few steps afterwards did a blaring voice suddenly break the silence he was long accustomed to, causing him to jump in his skin.

“HELP!! HELP ME!!”

He stopped.

“That was…Coming from where you moved right?”

He waited.

“PLEASE!! ANYBODY!!! HELP!!!!”

He was more certain of it now, it did lead back to where the path originally was.

Haetia looked between the path and the wailing voice – a man from the sounds of it, and in pain.

“Ughhhh, what would you do in this situation? You’re too compassionate sometimes so I could see you helping but…You always tell me to prioritize my safety.”

Still, it felt wrong to leave them. There wasn’t a chance anyone else would find them, being so far off that main road. That is, if they actually needed help and the locket’s azalea trail seemed to think otherwise.

A little reluctantly, Haetia swallowed his growing guilt and continued on the flower trail.

“Better safe than sorry. Better safe than sorry…”

Then the path made another sharp turn. Eyes fixated on the path, Haetia tightly held the locket and kept going, pace progressively increasing.

Then another sharp turn. And another. And another. Each time his fear would spike higher and higher, his quickening steps on the edge of turning into a full fledged run.

And then suddenly the trail stopped. Before he could even begin to process whatever peril that could mean, a monstrous figure slammed into the ground only a few feet away from him.

It was humanoid in the furthest definition you could manage – bipedal and four limbs. Other than that it wasn’t human in the slightest. Maimed ebony skin with stretches of orange, protruding tusks and horns, and a thick brawny body that was more than twice his size in height.

If it weren’t for its distinct appearance that crept into his nightmares when he was younger Haetia wouldn’t have recalled the lessons his retainer had taught him about such a beast. Rakshasas. The only thing he could take comfort in was that it lacked any additional heads or limbs, meaning it wasn’t on the egregiously powerful end but that didn’t mean it was any less dangerous either.

“Ignoring me are you?” The rakshasa spoke in a deep, inhumane growl completely unlike the humanlike voice he’d heard before. Every syllable it uttered he felt reverberate in his chest and thus terrified heart.

“N-No I–” Haetia rushed to defend himself but it didn’t seem to care.

“Hah! You are a very strange looking human. Or are you human? You seem like those white undead things, yet you can speak, unlike them. If it weren’t for those white ghouls I wouldn’t have to settle for a petite thing like you. No matter, I’m much too famished. I suppose I’ll find out whether you’re human or not after I devour you.”

With a nauseating, wide, fanged grin it slowly slid its curved swords from its side, like a butcher sharpening their blades before the slaughter and by then Haetia had already turned tail in the opposing direction.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING LITTLE HUMAN~!”

The blades crashed into the earth beside him and resounded through the soil, almost throwing him off balance as he barely sidestepped in time, though a fraction of his cardigan wasn’t as lucky. Any miniscule hope he had of talking himself out of the situation had long since faded.

Instinctively he swung his arm back and thin streaks of ice flung at the humanoid beast. Most altogether missed while only one or two managed to lightly graze its skin enough to create thin cuts that merely broke through the surface and nothing lower.

“Petite with some ferocity but petite all the same!” The rakshasa mocked and swiftly slammed its swords again and again Haetia barely managed to dodge, making him now believe it was less of him being fortunate and more of the beast toying with its food, which was altogether confirmed by the fact that it only had to keep a light jog to more than keep up with him.

He knew he couldn’t outrun it yet he tried all the same since facing it in an outright battle was unthinkable and he knew didn’t have the wits to outsmart it either. And he knew that no matter how hard he tried to improve he’d never be as strong as his retainer, let alone as collected and quick witted as him.

Any of the icicles that Haetia recklessly hurled towards the rakshasa found themselves lost in the air and missing their marks. He’d only ever practiced on a still object let alone standing himself and it didn’t even cross his mind how hard it’d be to not only sprint and attack but focus on dodging and hitting a moving target as well. In the rear of his mind he could feel his will begin to succumb and his self-resentment and fears skyrocketing, reflecting in forming beads in his corners. The frigid air gushing past him as he fled in a scamper dried them about as quickly as they had formed.

Having worked up its appetite to the brim, the rakshasa snarled and glistened its tusks. “Enough of this chase, petite thing. Should you run any longer you’ll work off what little meat you have and I’ve already had enough of sucking on bone marrow.”

As instant as a blink the rakshasa pounced right before him, rupturing the ground as it fell and cut off his route, making him and fall stumble backwards from the quake.

The last thing Haetia saw was its wild, wide stretched snout as it lifted its egregiously large weapons over its head for a final strike. Desperately he shut his eyes and turned his head away. What was left of his willpower culminated into an outward extended flail of his hands in the hopes that something–anything–would save him. And at the root of what little willpower he had was Linias. He still had to make things right, and if he died then his guilt and regrets would die with him and he’d forever be known as that same wretch of Master.

The sound of the blades plunging into the earth reverberated across the forest, and yet, he breathed. No pain–unless this was the case in which the pain would only settle once he’d seen the wound. He was all too fearful to even open his eyes. That is, until he heard a gurgle, and then a jumbled curse.

Through a squint he peeked through to take in what had happened in small fragments. Its swords laid flat on the ground, beside a thick and protruding spike of ice…with the rakshasa impaled above it enough to leave a gaping hole through its torso. Blood seeped into the ice, giving it makeshift veins as the rakshasa writhed to try and free itself. Yet struggling only worsened the wound and an infliction spread throughout its body as the ice creeped onto it, freezing it piece by piece while Haetia could do nothing but watch. Paralyzed.

Voice and body trembling, his eyes could only focus on the mass of blood loss. “I’m–I’m sorry I–”

In retaliation it roared curses and hexes which barely escaped its lips as the ice finalized its control, leaving its head for last. Forever frozen in time at the moment of its death and impalement.

Before he knew it his breaths could barely keep up with the rapid contraction of his lungs and he vomited onto the grass. With the lack of food it had come out almost entirely clear with only specks of last night’s helpings of fruit.

Haetia heaved a jumbled mess of coughs and respirations, looking upon the deceased beast with a darting gaze until finally forcing himself to look upon it in its entirety.

His hands hesitated to touch the blood across the broad icicle, most of which had frozen over just the same as its origins. He felt the urge to vomit boil in his throat again, but this time, he swallowed.

“Did you…Did you also…?”

But he knew the answer. Even without the orders he’d given in the past, he knew from his scars alone that he had to have…killed others. Himself, with his own hands. For him.

“...”

It wasn’t the first time and likely not the last that he’d be attacked.

“...If it’s for you then I…”

Haetia placed his palm onto the blood which already began to cool. It contrasted with his snow white skin, not looking all too dissimilar from himself.

His nails etched into the ice.

“I’ll do anything.”