Location: Almackâs
"How terrible it is to love something that death can touch."
Thalkenâs dark eyes narrowed as his gaze followed the armed chestnut-haired woman. His view of her came in and out as she weaved through the crowds undisturbed. It never ceased to amaze him how oblivious people could be to their surroundings, that a woman with a drawn sword could go seemingly unnoticed. And yet, if the slightest of scandals occurred the whole ton noticed. It was truly ironic.
âWhat the hell is going on?â Thalconaâs hushed voice sounded in his ear as she eyed the armed women.
âThatâs what I intend to find out,â he thought to himself as he continued to watch Millicent make her way through the crowded ballroom. She eventually disappeared from his view altogether as she headed out onto the east balcony. Thalken glanced over at his sister before stalking off after Millicent, his throwing knife still held steadily in his hand.
The thick crowds made his advance slower than he would have liked. To save time he had to nimbly dodge some people while more forcibly shoving his way past others. Theyâll be damned if he cannot catch up to that woman before she slips off to wherever she was going. As he neared the balcony, he heard the dull clang of metal. He picked up his pace the best he could before finally shoving past the last few people in his way.
The all too familiar smell of blood assailed him as he walked out onto the balcony. His intense gaze swept the area before eventually finding the source. His eyes landed on a limp body surrounded by a large ever-growing pool of blood. Poor Jane hadn't stood a chance, no training thanks to her mother putting society norms above and beyond safety. Nearby two people tussled violently on the ground. Emma looked around frantically, not knowing what to do as her mother lay there bleeding out. She had been of the same opinion as her mother but if she could think right then she might have admitted that she should have taken Millicent's insistence that they get trained a bit more seriously.
A piercing scream suddenly broke through the relative silence, and chaos ensued as those around him began to panic and blindly run for their lives. However, Thalken was not so easily frightened. Instead, he jogged forward in the direction of the two people tussling on the ground. He raised his throwing knife as he deftly weaved through the crowd of panicking people, waiting for a decent opening. He wasted little time and took the first opening he was given, hurling the knife at the assailant. Catherine's nails dug into Millicent's arms, trying to get a grip to pull her closer and sink her teeth into her daughter. Millicent's legs coming up from the ground and trying to kick her mother off of her.
"Mother!" she yelled but it didn't seem to register.
âDammit,â he hissed as the knife missed its intended target. The blade instead nicked the thigh of the chestnut-haired woman (Millicent) on bottom. Millicent grunting from the sudden stabbing pain in her thigh but she kept driving the blade in. The aggressor abruptly stopped its attack and turned towards Thalken, revealing that it was not just any average person. It was a Soulless, a Ryne more specifically. It angrily bared its teeth at him, causing his heart to beat a little faster in his chest. He inwardly cursed, but nevertheless, he kept his wits about him as the Ryne turned its sights on him. However, as it was about to stalk over to him, Millicent managed to drive her sword further into the Ryneâs chest. This ultimately caused the Ryne to fall over backward, pulling the blade the with it.
Millicent gasped for breath and coughed as she rolled over onto her knees. Her hands leaving bloodied prints on the concrete from the cuts and slices the swords blade had left on them. The pain seared through her hands, a tremble rocking down her spine as she pushed herself to standing. She could feel the scratches burning her arms as blood trickled down and stained her not so white gloves. Crimson taking over for pearl. Her thigh twitched as she put weight on her leg. Her pretty curls were disheveled and had come loose in the tussle, cascading down her back now. Her head jerking to the side as she watched her mother stumble back.
The girl was still in shock, seeing her mother there yet her mother not seeming to know that she was attacking her own daughter. Soulless had been a plague because they could blend in, because they knew their lives before the chance. Many families helped their mothers, fathers, children stay in hiding. They normally did not attack them, the connection they had in life still very strong but her mother didn't even seem to know who she was. And her eyes, once dark and loving were pale and amber now. That wasn't the look of a typical Ryne. Something was off here but it wasn't something she could worry about right then.
As the woman was able to break free from the Ryne, Thalken noticed that she appeared to be the same armed chestnut-haired woman he had been following. Granted, her disheveled hair and blood stained arms and hands made proper identification a bit harder. Nevertheless, he was almost certain that she was the same woman. It did not seem like it was merely a coincidence that he found the woman fighting a Soulless. Perhaps she knew of the threat and was going to dispatch of it. Well, whatever the case, he would inquire of it and ponder upon it later, for now the threat was still imminent. He kept his eyes trained on the Ryne, closely watching its movements.
Catherine reaching up and pulling the blade from her shoulder. Tossing it to the side as she eyed Thalken. Baring her fangs as she hissed. Then she sprung, rising to her feet and lunging towards the man. The crowds were quickly clearing but there were more and more Soulless showing up. Millicent's eyes widened as she watched her mother drop the sword. Focusing on the techniques she was taught in China, she drew from her knowledge of the Fu Mei and moved quickly. Her body slipping down and around her mother, getting in the woman's path. Her mother trying to claw at her but Millicent was able to turn her movements against her. Using the force and strength of Catherines attempted strike at her head to roll her to the side and flip her head over heels as Millicent launched Catherine over her shoulder. Catherine went tumbling like a rag doll against the concrete and stopped when she hit the balcony's banister.
Thalken unsheathed his Dao, a Chinese style sabre, with ease. As Millicent skillfully knocked the Ryne to the ground, he advanced with his raised sabre. He let out what was a mixture of a huff and a growl as a young, oblivious couple rushed in front of him. The blade of the sabre caught on the womanâs dress, ripping the cheap fabric and nearly maiming her in the process. The woman shrieked in horror and fainted, hitting the ground with a dull thud. The womanâs male partner ditched her, choosing to save himself rather than helping her up.
I donât have time for this idiocy. Iâve got places to be and things to kill. Thalken rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated huff as he stepped over the woman. He continued his advance towards the Ryne, which was dazedly struggling to get up.
Millicent cringed when she saw the body of her mother crumple on the ground and slide across it. She knew she was fighting for her life and the lives of others. She had lost Jane. Jane and her were close and she loved her dearly even if she was her step sister. She even felt a small twinge of anger seeing Mrs. Wyndham impaled, which only grew as Emma sat there weeping trying to stave off the bleeding while people ran around ignoring them. Yet, this was her mother. Her only saving grace was that her father was not here to see this, yet where was he. The thought he could have fallen to the same fate as Catherine felt like a knife through her heart as she reached down and picked up the discarded blade.
Catherine's head leaned back against the wall of the balcony, her arm coming up and wrapping over the top edge of the marble railing as she started to hoist herself up and onto her feet. Spreading them apart she bent her knees, eying Thalken as he stalked towards her, ready to spring at him.
"MÇ qÄŤn! ZhĂ n!" Millicent yelled in Mandarin towards Catherine. Catherine's attention was gotten and her eyes flashed for a brief moment as she looked towards Millicent.
Thalkenâs typical cold exterior darkened further as he stalked towards the Ryne, which was quickly pulling itself up onto its feet. His dark, piercing gaze was locked unflinchingly on it, and his head cocked slightly to the side as he watched its every move. His hand flexed on the hilt of his raised sabre, and his muscles tightened in anticipation of the inevitable fight to come. His whole demeanor exuded a menacing, predatory quality to it that was much like the Ryne itself.
The Ryne regained its footing and tensed as if it was about ready to spring at him. Thalken mentally anticipated said movement and readied himself to switch to a more defensive tactic at a momentâs notice. Planting oneself in front of a charging Ryne was a suicide mission, so dodging and slashing it as it passed would be the more appropriate course of action. However, when Millicent yelled at the Ryne, successfully distracting it, his plans quickly changed and conformed to something much more offensive. Without any hesitation, he lunged forward to take full advantage of this convenient opening. With his strength and momentum on his side, he precisely slashed his sabre in a downward arc aimed at the base of the Ryneâs neck. The blade cleanly cut through flesh and bone, successfully beheading Catherine.
A soundless scream came from Millicent's lips as the blade cut through the flesh of Catherine's neck. A swift cut that went through the Soulless flesh like a hot knife through butter. Catherine's head rolling from her neck as the body began to fell and everything went into slow motion. Millicent found her knees buckling as the head of her mother hit the concrete, a thudding echoing sound that came from it as it bounced. Roll, bounce, roll, bounce. Millicent's knees hitting the ground with her hands hanging limply at her sides as the now hollow eyes o her mother came to a stop before her. There was no blood, the flesh dark and turned. Millicent could only stare as her body trembled. She did not hear the screams of others running around in a panic, nor the pained echoes of her step mothers voice crying for help. It was white noise to the girl before the eyes closed of Catherine.
Thalken watched as the Ryne crumpled to the ground, its severed head hitting the ground before its body soon followed. The head bounced slightly before rolling towards Millicent. There was no remorse or revulsion in his dark eyes. The gore surrounding him did not seem to faze him. And in the moment, he had no regard for the beloved person this Soulless was before it had turned or the daughters who had lost so much in the blink of an eye. All there was in his demeanor was a menacing coldness. He was more a predator than a hero. He could not deny that he got a thrill from this kill. It was so different from his familyâs usual targets, humans with a bounty on their heads. Unlike hunting innocent humans, he had no qualms about hunting the Soulless as they were just that,
soul less. Ridding the earth of these abominations felt righter than anything he had ever felt in his life before. He reveled in the feeling of doing something right for a change as it helped ease the weight of his familyâs sins.
Thalkenâs head whipped to the side as Millicentâs stepsister Emma screamed out in horror at the gruesome beheading she had just witnessed. His gaze for once took in the massacre the Ryne had left in its wake. An older woman laid by Emma with an iron rod protruding from her and blood pouring out profusely from the wound. Nearby the lifeless body of a young woman was sprawled out on the ground with blood pouring from her ravaged throat. His gaze finally landed on the chestnut-haired woman he had saved from the Ryne. He could tell by her demeanor that she was truly traumatized. His mind suddenly recalled something she had cried out amidst the attack,
mother. The Ryne had been her
mother. Thalken felt a twinge of regret and sorrow for her plight, though his demeanor gave none of this way. His mind thought back to his own mother who was murdered thanks to his fatherâs line of work. He quickly pushed all of these thoughts away.
Emotions are weakness, his father had always said. He was not sure that statement was entirely true, but in the moment, he would abide by it. He did not want to be distracted when more pressing matters were at hand.
Thalkenâs attention went back to the Ryne. He knew that to truly kill a Ryne one must remove its fangs and insert them into the carotid arteries on either side of its neck. However, he did not currently have on his person the tools to do such a task properly or safely. The body of the Ryne would have to stay as is for now. As long as it was done before sunrise, it would not pose a threat.
Location: Almackâs
âBut itâs always darkest before the dawn.â
Fyror scanned the thick crowds in search of his father Colonel Theodore. Fortunately, the traditional red coat worn by those in the British infantry made it easier to pick them out in a large group. Though that fact alone proved to be more of a disadvantage on the battlefield. He finally spotted his father and mother near the east wall of the ballroom, barely north of where Millicent had disappeared off to.
Oh, Millicent. His mind still lingered on the feeling of having her delicate frame wrapped in his strong arms and seeing the smile he brought to her face. His heart had opened up to her in a way that he had never experienced before, and now that spot felt void without her. He questioned whether he had made the right decision to let her go off alone. His intentions were good and honorable. He wanted to protect the rest of the people here and not let emotions for a now engaged woman cloud his good judgment. Unfortunately, he knew full well that good intentions could still come at the cost of peopleâs lives. The truth is that sometimes the good you do wonât do you any good, but that does not mean that the effort was never worth it.
As Fyror neared his parents, the first scream rang out. It was a blood curdling, bansheelike scream that stopped him in his tracks.
Oh God, it has already begun, he thought with trepidation. Naturally, people began to panic, screaming and running for their lives as the threat became imminent.
They do not truly know what they are up against. He picked up his pace the best he could, desperately wanting to reach his parents, his family. Trying to make his way through the panicked crowds was like trying to navigate through a riptide. The crowds threatened to pull him under and sweep him away in the opposite direction that he wanted to go. After putting up a struggle, he was finally able to reach them.
âFather! Father, the Soulless are on the premise!â he called out to him, having to speak loudly to be heard over the chaos. Fyror quickly unsheathed his sword, and his perceptive gaze scanned the area for threats.
Just then, another scream sounded out. This one was much closer. With his well attuned hearing, he could pinpoint its location as coming from the nearby balcony.
The same way Millicent wentâ Without a second thought, he took off in that direction with his sword in hand. Truthfully, he was not at all prepared for what he would find. As he entered the balcony and the crowds parted for a moment, his gaze took in the horrific scene. The area was drenched in fresh blood and the air reeked of it. Mrs. Wyndham was impaled by an iron rod, and one of her daughters Emma was by her side weeping in horror and despair. Emmaâs sister Jane laid nearby in a lifeless heap as blood poured from her throat. And Millicentâ
Oh, God. She was on her knees covered in so much blood. A look of utter horror was on her face as she looked down at a severed nearby her. At the moment, he did not even notice Thalken as his attention was solely on Millicent.
âMillicent!â he cried, skipping formality for the first time by simply using her first name. He rushed over to her and looked her up and down. There was so much blood on her, but he didnât what of it was actually hers.
âAre you hurt? God, I should never have let you go off alone,â he stated worriedly. A part of him truly did feel that this was his fault and that he could have prevented or at least lessened the damage.
