The Huntress

Part 40: Light and darkness

"Have you killed someone?"

"Yes, I have. It wasn't easy."

"Was he or she a tough opponent?"

The man with the dark brown hair looked at the nine-year-old girl that stood in front of him. They had finished training with the knives, and after every lesson, she would ask him about his life before she was born. She was always very curious and wanted to know everything.

"I'm not talking about strength or technique." He patted the space next to him and looked at her with his hazel eyes.

How could he explain that killing someone was like killing a small part of your soul?

He had trained his daughter from the moment she could walk. He gave her the first knife when she was five. The girl with the inquiring eyes was special. She was The Huntress. That was what the gods had decided.

He knew it from the night he found out about her existence. A mysterious figure arrived in his dreams and told him that the child would save the world. However, there was a price. Her soul would be scarred forever, and she would always walk alongside death and insanity.

"Then what? What makes killing so difficult?"

"Killing someone requires having a strong soul or not having one. Every time you take a life, a part of your soul cracks like a mirror. You may not realize it, but as time passes, the cracks on your soul are getting bigger and more prominent."

"And what happens if the cracks are too big? Can a soul break?"

He sighed and cupped her face. "I don't know. The line between light and darkness is very thin. Only one spark, one last crack is enough to destroy everything."

A sad smile formed as he stared at her features. What would those eyes see? What would those strong, muscled arms do?

The girl didn't speak, waiting to hear more on the subject. Her mother had told her many times that she was special, and she trained every day.

They lived in a cabin in the middle of the forest, and her only friend, Thomas, lived hundreds of miles away. She was lonely, but when she had those conversations with her father, everything changed. He was wise and caring. Sometimes she felt that he knew things about her. Things that whose existence was a secret for her.

Her mother had called her "huntress" one day, but the meaning of it wasn't revealed. All she knew was that she had to train, to never falter, to always be ready for an attack because those were dangerous times and she had to be prepared.

"I don't know if a soul can break, but it can become weak, dark, twisted. Once the last part of it turns dark, then I believe that no one can save it."

"How do I know that my soul has turned black?"

"You cannot understand what is right or wrong. Life will have no colors and no scents. You will not feel love or pain because everything will feel the same."

"Dad, I don't want to have a dark soul," she whispered, and her lips trembled.

"You won't. You are strong, and you can overcome everything."

"You don't know that. You don't know the future."

He laughed. The laughter was bitter, almost silent. "You are right. But I believe in you. When everything is turning dark, you must look at the light. Always follow the light. Focus on the beautiful things that life has to offer and grab them. Do you understand?"