Buried in the wreckage of a Compound meant to imprison her, Faine awakens a shell of her former self. With no memories and a growing taste for revenge, she is given the ultimate decision.
She must save the city, or herself.
Round One 》✅️ 2k 》✅️
R...
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Depleting pain wrapped through her core as Faine stumbled into a mountainscape of grass and shrubs. She knew she'd been this exhausted before, but the images of training in combat and fighting were broken and blurry at best.
Leaning up against one of the largest boulders, Faine focused on her breathing. If she was going to have any shot at taking down Trace, she'd have to learn how to pace herself. Leighton was always better at endurance, at patience in general. Any calm calculation she had left the second her goal was within sight.
She'd pour everything into this death, into this vengeance though. No matter the cost.
Faine found her breath in the silence of wind and stars. The crisp air felt dry and invigorating on her skin, caressing her arm in subtle waves.
No matter how briefly, she felt peace.
Even after every bird returned to her fully, Faine could still hear the whispers. A cacophony rising toward crescendo as she looked upon the mountainous surroundings. Sharp peaks and valleys giving way to plains of grass and flowers, though still buried in thin pockets of snowmelt. She felt the whipping frosted winds come to greet her as she cooled down, stealing her warmth little by little.
Faine searched for that last ounce of strength buried within her and stood. Mt. Signet was sweepingly vast and searching for Trace's facility out here would not be an easy task.
Whispering a silent prayer into the breeze, she pushed away from her landing spot and yanked her jacket tightly around her once more. She had no idea how long it would take for Leighton to find her, for Naisene to disrupt her mission and drag her back.
The idea made her shudder.
What would they do to her now, after she'd fled and sought her own revenge. Kill her, finish the job?
The thoughts ravaging her mind were unbearable.
No, she wouldn't allow it.
Faine let herself skid less than gracefully down the hill, leaning back to avoid any more cuts or bruises. The burn scars still radiated enough heat to keep her from freezing, the memory of fire woven into her very body.
She had no idea how long she wandered through those fields, only the way her muscles ached as she trudged over each small peak. The landscape was vast and winding, laden with mysterious markers that Faine had never seen before.
She noticed thin stones placed into the mud in strategic weaving patterns. Another set parallel to them three feet apart.
The path, the path, follow the path.
The heart of the mountain, the heart of the valley.
Voices blended, syncing together into a sentence that had Faine looking west. The path led down into the heart of the valley, just as they'd told her. She followed blindly, recalling the faintest memory of her Uncle explaining those strange shadows of intuition.
