Keska Lenell

It was difficult to remember a time when Keska could look up into the endless stars and be filled with anything other than a sense of dread. The stars collided every now and again, raining shards of blues and silvers down on the earth. They flickered and hummed and whispered loving words into the darkest depths of her soul, but the gentle, fondly laced murmurs no longer held any meaning to her.

Where she once found comfort in the stars, all she found now was an endless void, chipping away at her strength and resolve. She hated how tauntingly bright they shone, as though their threads of light only existed to curse her.

Still, she supposed there was some usefulness to them. They fueled her bitterness and vengeance, flooding her with memories she could never hope to forget. It seemed that despite the unbearable pain the past brought her, it worked in her favor. 

She always did fight better when she held agony in one hand and fury in the other.

She clutched a jagged stone in her hand, striking it against the armor of the hunter, though it did nothing but chip away at the poorly painted chest plate. She ducked when his arm came barreling down on her in a poor attempt to entrap her. Keska rolled to the side, feeling shards of ice and frost bite into her back. Snow had some way or another, sneaked its way into every crevice of her clothes, leaving her grey pants damp and clinging to her skin, which was quite an uncomfortable feeling when she was trying to escape with her life.

Keska heaved, the thin air of the mountains doing nothing to help her regain her composure. With skill as smooth as silk she rolled back to her feet, each movement careful and calculated.

The hunter was large, build like a brick wall. Even with her tall frame he still towered over her by a good seven inches or so. He pounded his gloved fist into the side of his torso, no doubt trying to beat away the pain she had caused him. She could see blood trickle from his skin, dribbling down his armor in bright contrast.

The air of the cave was laced with exhaustion and Keska could hear the hunter's heavy breathes beneath his helmet. "You done?" he asked, voice crackling and laced with malice.

"Not yet, ask me again in a couple minutes, if you last that long." She replied with a smirk, feeling a mixture of irritation and a twisted sense of excitement bubble in her chest. They always thought they could take her; it was quite fun to see their faces when they realized they couldn't.

"We both know you aren't getting out of this, witch." he said, fingers flexing over the hilt of his sword.

"The corpses outside say otherwise." The once pure white snow of the mountains was now stained with the blood of bounty hunters. They had come in a group, like a pitiful pack of dogs which had been all bark and no bite. It was only the hunter before her which managed to evade her wrath. For now, anyway. 

She could hear the man's smirk beneath his helmet. "They were foolish, young and they weren't me."

Keska gave an exaggerated sigh. "You all think you're so special." As she spoke, she dug into her coat pocket and felt for a small, sharp object. She curled her gloved fingertips around it and crushed it to dust in her palm. With a speed that rivaled that of lightning, Keska threw the powder at the hunter, aiming for the vulnerable parts of his arm which lacked armor.

The hunter took a step back in surprise, and swatted away the remanence of the powder. Nothing happened, except his obvious display of irritation. 

He lunged at her and tackled her to the ground before she could sidestep him. Keska wheezed, feeling as though a thousand bricks had been placed on her chest. "Saints, you're heavy." His sword was at her neck, the blade dragging dangerously close to the flesh. However, before he could slice her open, there was a strange soft of cracking noise which filled the air, like those popping candies Keska had liked so much as a child.

She didn't have to wait long before the man began shouting in agony, falling backwards off of her and clawing at the arm she had rained in dust. The cloth beneath his armor had burned away, as though it had been licked by fire, and his skin began turning a strange orange color. Slowly, his flesh began to tremble and crack. Sharp, burst of light erupted from him, chasing out the darkness of the cave. It was as though the very light of the stars had burrowed deep within his being.

"Stardust," she told him, though she doubted he heard her over his agonizing screams. "Don't be a baby, you're not going to die. You'll probably lose your arm though." In his distraction, Keska attacked him, kicking him in the face with the heel of her boot and pinning him to the ground. It was difficult, with the hunter's flailing arms and legs, metal crashing against her in agonizing streaks of pain.

She managed to flip the hunter around and wrap her arms around his neck, holding him in a headlock. She strained her legs to keep the rest of his body pinned to the ground. The man grunted and flailed his arm behind him, thudding against Keska in a desperate attempt to free himself. His elbow hit her nose and her head snapped back with a terrible crack. She cried out in pain, eyes watering as pain seeped into her pores, her nose undoubtedly broken. She gripped the man tighter as blood trickled to her lips. She tasted blood, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

"I suggest you yield, hunter." she whispered threateningly. Her arms ached and the corpses of the others outside were beginning to fill her with a strange sense of dread. Not necessarily guilt but there was too much blood on her hands for one day. Perhaps tomorrow she would be more inclined to kill again.

"There are others coming," he whispered through gurgled breathes. "You can't escape us all." Keska couldn't stop herself from trembling, a mix of anger and dismay dancing in the pit of her stomach. He was right. There were always more. "They'll find you; filthy witch, and they'll tear your skin from your body and leave your corpse to rot in the mines, just as they did your parents."

She broke his neck before he could utter another word.

                                                                                               ***

Keska stared down at the cavern down below, filled with merciless shards of ice and rock. The wind whistled through the walls, portraying a delicate but dangerous dance, warning anyone who drew near.

She dragged the last hunter's body towards the edge of the cliff and heaved with exhaustion. The sharp wind snapped her inky hair across her face, leaving behind streaks of agony. She dropped to her knees in the snow, rummaging through the hunter's armor and pulled out two hunting knives which she slipped into her leather belt. She had had her own weapons at one point, but they had long since vanished into the throats and hearts of other bounty hunters during her past encounters.

She pulled a dagger the size of her forearm from the man's boot and held it up to admire it. "That will do just fine," she murmured to herself, words stolen away by the harsh wind. After she stripped the man of weapons and the coin pouch along his waist, Keska shoved him with all her might, watching his corpse tumble down the ice canyon.

She sat crossed legged on the snowy ground with a sigh. Having lost the initial adrenaline of the fight, she now felt every tear of her skin and every ache of her bones. She wiped her bloody nose, wincing at the tenderness of it.

Keska poured opened the hunter's coin pouch and spilled the contents out onto her outstretched palm. There was one object in particular that caught her attention in the sea of bronze and silver. A circular object covered in a shiny coating; a soft blue light emitting brightly from the center.

It was a tracker.

She gritted her teeth and dropped the tracker to the ground, crushing it beneath her heel. Dormant rage bubble up like a volcano threatening to explode inside of her, filling her with much needed warmth against the brutal cold. This was how they kept finding her. The tracker responded to the small violet stone which had once been sewn into her flesh. This meant that no matter where she ran, they could always find her.

She could still see the scar on her wrist where the bronze knife and gentle fingers had slit it open, sliding a pretty little crystal into her body, minuscule, impossible to detect, laced with a tracking curse. There were other scars on her arm, these made from her own blade, though her attempts to rip the tracker from her body had always fallen short. It moved like a snake inside her flesh, traveling throughout her body, making it impossible for her to detect where it was. There was only one person who could remove it and that was the person who had placed it there.

Keska got back to her feet after a moment. There was no time for rest, there never was. For the past three years she's been dodging hunters left and right, partly for her race, partly for the sins of her past. A mistake so great, worlds were destroyed because of it.

Born as a Nirvella, or child of the stars, Keska's very skin poured out the evidence of her race. Paled from a lifetime in the mountains with hair as dark as the night sky, her silver eyes shown like the very stars splattered among it. Beneath her left eye was the evidence of her people, the mark of her ancestors. A curled silver symbol was delicately engraved into her skin. It branded not only her flesh but the very depths of her soul.

She glanced up at the sky which now rolled with grey clouds and claps of lighting, a warning of an oncoming storm. She needed shelter, and soon, unless she wanted to end up in a buried mount of ice and snow.

Her legs ached as she forced herself up, brushing the snow from her black coat. It was worn and old, allowing the cold to seep in with ease. She could go back to the cave, gain some much-needed rest but it hadn't ended well the first time. She doubted the second time around would be any different. The hunters had jumped her in her sleep, rudely awakening her with daggers and swords at her throat.

Her eyes blurred with dreariness as she trudged through the snow. It would be safer to keep going, she concluded. She'd rather take her chances with the storm than with more hunters. After all, she was doing quite well in the luck department. Although she was a natural born fighter, she knew she would be dead already if luck hadn't been on her side. Perhaps the stars really were looking out for her, or perhaps survival was her punishment.

The winds grew crueler as she made her way up the mountain, feet sinking so deep into the snow she feared it would consume her completely.

Keska lost track of the time, the sun hidden away by layers of clouds, causing the entirety of the world to seem as though it had been consumed into a sense of nothingness, stark white and shattered. The only noise was the whistle of the wind and her own sharp, gasping breathes, raw with the cold. There was a strange sense of peacefulness up there, despite the cruelty of it all. She realized that she much rather be at the mercy of nature than the punishing, callous monsters they called people.

From the endless white emerged a splotch of brown, a building, laced with rotting wood and cracked windows. As she drew closer with caution, she noticed a small creaking sign which hung for dear life by a single hinge. It was a tavern. A safe haven for weary travelers.

She shouldn't, she knew she shouldn't, but her muscles ached and her bones screamed for rest. She chewed her split lip. How long had it been since she had slept in a real bed? Her spine had grown stiff from months sleeping on stone. Just then, as if her own body was trying to convince her, her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the lack of food she had. The small nutrition bar she had consumed yesterday could only fuel her for so long. 

They probably have food in there, she thought, her resolve wearing down with every passing second.

She had been in search for a  cave or something that could shield her for the night, but the tavern seemed far more appetizing despite its worn-down nature and suddenly her feet began moving before her mind had time to fully calculate what she was doing. She would be careful, and she convinced herself it would be just fine.

Keska slipped her black scarf up her face so it covered the marking beneath her eye and ducked her head into the tavern. The door let out a painful screech and Keska let out a sign of relief at the warmth of the room, filled with the heat of a bustling fire. There weren't many people in the tavern and only a few bothered to glance her way. The floorboards creaked beneath her weight and she stepped towards the small counter shoved to the side.

It was terribly small and cramped, though there was a small staircase in the back which led a promise of warm beds and rest. 

There was a woman working at the bar, with blond hair pulled back into a messy braid, engrossed in her work of pouring liquor and cleaning counters. She was dressed in a coat of furs and warmth and Keska felt a trill of jealousy, her own worn coat pitifully trying to contain any remanence of warmth.

There was a man at the counter as well who slammed his mug down onto the table, nearly causing the whole establishment to tremble. "It's a mighty cold night," Keska heard him say with a slurred edge as she neared. "I could warm you up if you'd like." The man gave a pathetic wink and the bartender rolled her eyes.

"I don't like. Watch your mouth before I throw you to the wolves." The woman snarled, throwing her rag threateningly on the table. She managed to scare the guy off, who slinked away, murmuring curses and profanities. The woman rolled her eyes as she watched him. "Pathetic bastard."

Keska stepped forward, hoping the woman wouldn't direct her irritation towards her. Keska scanned the shelf behind the counter. They seemed to have quite an array of liquor, no doubt to help keep warm and Keska wondered if they had soup. Or maybe some crackers. Anything that wasn't bloody, half frozen rabbit meat. "Hello," she said.

The woman with pretty blue eyes glanced up. She was filled with coldness and hostility at first, clearly ready to lash out at her, but she paused when she saw Keska. She stared at her for a moment before speaking. "Hello traveler." Keska didn't miss the way the woman's eyes dragged down her body before reaching her face once again. Keska could only imagine what a sight she was, bloody and bruised. To her surprise, the woman gave her a pretty smile.

"Dangerous to be out in such weather. There's a storm comin'."

"So I've noticed." 

The woman peered up at her through her lashes. "Out on adventure, are we? Where are you headed?"

"To the capital," she lied. As if. 

The woman hummed in response and picked up a bottle of amber liquid. "Pint of Pellian rum?"

Keska dipped her head. "Please." She noticed the packs of circular crackers sandwiched with a buttery herb filling behind the counter and she jutted her chin towards them. "And one of those cracker things, maybe two, actually just make it the whole box." The woman grinned and shoved her the snacks which Keska quickly grabbed handfuls of. She fished for her new coin pouch, the silver and bronze square coins feeling heavy in her hands.

Saints, bounty hunters really did get paid well. Too bad she was the bounty, otherwise she might have taken up a job or two herself. 

"Anything else I can help you with?" The woman tilted her head, voice laced with a low tone, words coming out soft and caressing.

"Just some boarding for the night." Keska replied without looking up, sliding a few coins on the table.

"Just the two silvers," the woman murmured, handing Keska back the last coin. Her fingers lingered on her own for a moment too long. "The only room available is in the back. It's pretty small and there are a couple blood splatters here and there, but it'll keep out the cold."

"That's fine, I just need a bed to crawl into." Keska wondered if the pillows would be the fluffy or the flat type. She liked the fluffy ones, where she could bury her face and disappear into the warmth of feathers and cotton.

"You can crawl into mine, if you'd like."

Keska looked up in surprise, nearly dropped her crackers. "Oh." Usually, she was good at picking up hints, but apparently the exhaustion had caused her to miss all of them. Keska glanced back towards the man who had been hitting on the bartender when she had walked into the tavern. "I figured you were looking for some alone time."

The barkeep snorted. "I can't stand arrogant bastards like them, sniffing for pleasure where ever they can find it." She leaned forward trailed a finger down Keska's tattered coat sleeve. "Bastards like you though..." her voice trailed. "I might be inclined to entertain."

Her hands were warm against Keska's skin and for a moment Keska wondered if it would be such a bad idea to lean into them, but she ultimately pulled away, mind foggy with fatigue. "I'm flattered, but I'm exhausted." The woman's face dropped slightly and Keska continued. "If I went with you now, those pretty eyes of yours would keep me up all night."

The woman flushed. "Can't argue with that." She pulled back and grabbed a key from under the counter. She handed it to Keska and jerked her head towards the back. "First door on the left."

Keska pulled away, dragging the pint of alcohol and the key along with her. "Thank you very much."

The woman clicked her tongue in response and shot her a wink. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Keska flashed her smile, though she knew she couldn't see it and slipped around the back, moving through the narrow hallway. She shoved her key into the lock of the first door and pushed it open with little effort. The bartender hadn't been lying, the room was incredibly small. In fact, Keska could nearly touch opposite walls if she stretched herself out wide enough.

Keska locked the door behind her, though with its rusted hinges she doubted it would do much aside from fill her with a false sense of protection. She peeled off her coat and unbuttoned her blood-stained shirt which dripped with melting snow. Flicking off her boots, she gently placed her newfound weapons beside her bed, cleaning them well. The last thing she needed was for them to dull and rust.

After she shoved four packets of crackers down her throat, she rolled onto the small bed which barely accommodated her tall figure. The wood creaked beneath her weight and she wondered if she would wake up in the morning and be on the floor. She didn't dare get under the thin, fraying blanket, no matter how cold she was. She knew from experience that people were disgusting. Blood probably wasn't the only thing stained there.

Keska curled into her side and placed her head on the pillow. She smiled softly. It was the fluffy kind. She let out a sigh laced with relief and a sense of vulnerability she hardly ever allowed out. It was a dangerous thing after all, but just for a moment she allowed herself to feel a sense of safety, no matter how false she knew it to be.