Was this world even his own? Sighth, son of Sikul, had finally reached a woodland village. He felt relief after so many moons of travel on the road – or in his case, off the road. Only feeble folk call for such attention. In the shadows of night he remained, peering upon this forgotten village. Darkness was his element and his friend, so in comfort he stood.

He saw this was a quiet place. It was almost fast asleep except for what he noticed high above as a busy tavern. The village was a traditional wood-elf settlement and was built high up in the trees, safe and protected from the dangers below.

A carriage lift led up to the first landing. Boards paved the path that spiraled up the trunks and linked other trees. This led to the buildings spread out across the thick board path and across the thick branches of these thick trees.

All this was barely revealed by the warm glow seeping through the many windows and the front sign of the tavern. Only one other light spared aid of illumination. Divine Eluna, who forever shined every night, everywhere. Through an opening in the center of the village canopy, Eluna’s grace rained. Sighth was mesmerized to have her in full sight tonight. He had never the chance, on the road – off the road, my apologies – and never the knack, given his type. The moment only lived for a second. Sighth knew it was clear to proceed.

The thickest of the village trees supported the carriage lift system. Sighth made his way to the guard station, slow enough to elude suspicion. Someone like Sighth was rarely seen moving slowly in the night, but then again, he was rarely ever seen. All that appeared of him was a long dark cloak of night, with a hood up, hiding his face.

Three guards held the post. One walked out to the balcony to receive the stranger. Once in complete sight, Sighth and the guard wood-elf held a brief gaze off. The guard then turned back towards his station.

“I bring coin!” Sighth called out. Without looking back the guard replied.

“Good elves are always welcome here. You’ll find the inn to our right.” and he signaled to his company to let down the carriage lift. Sighth was surprised to receive such judgement, and fixed the hood still covering his head. A good elf? he wondered, feeling the weight of his sins upon his soul.

Once inside the open-topped carriage, the porters took him up. The three, in olden day plate suits, smiled up at the dark hooded stranger in dark clothes who was now ascending to the quiet village.

The carriage reached the landing and Sighth made his way right, to the inn. Passing homes and shops, all were quiet and the pathway lay empty. He then saw three drunken males stumble out of the inn, their posture sloppy but their moods cheery and calm. These elves noticed the stranger approaching and quickly composed their manners; straightening their old rural clothing of farm robes and sandals. Making way, they smiled to Sighth with polite bows as he entered the inn.

Inside was warm and well-lit with crystal light on the ceilings, candle light upon the tables. Few customers sat at the bar, others at tables with still plenty vacancy. Everyone was calm in their pleasant conversations or their shared silence. All enjoyed wines of white, pink or amber, or tea that steamed from pots. Of the crowd that seemed of travelers and locals alike, a particular bunch stood out like sore thumbs.

In Sighth’s peripheral sight, these folk were not comfortable. Their air did not flow with the rest of the inn. Not having to look to them directly, Sighth could tell. City-scum, elves from the city, sauntered in crime and sin. They were not a threat as they were only 5, and their spirits were withered of any real power.

Sighth approached the bar. A young serving girl noticed his inquiry. She gave him a closer look as the light of the counter revealed enough of his face. The girl told him to wait as she fetched who seemed to be the innkeeper, who wore nicer formal robes compared to the rest of the elves here. He stood before Sighth and smiled with his pencil thin mustache, hands clasped before him.

“You must have enjoyed a long travel, cousin. The next closest settlement to here is 7 moons away.” the innkeeper informed Sighth. “We’ll fix you a nice room. Your belongings must all be outside. I’ll have somebody get it all for you.” The innkeeper motioned off to go get somebody, when Sighth raised a hand to stop him.

“I bring no luggage. Give me your cheapest room. And don’t worry. I bring coin.”

The innkeepers face was sincere and concerned.

“No luggage? We better give you a good room, cousin.” His hands opened up in welcome. “And keep your coin. Good elves are always welcome here.” =]

Again. They spoke of ‘good elves.’ Sighth knew he did not deserve the title but tried to play the part, wringing out an attempt of a smile. The innkeeper seemed pleased at the smile and continued.

“Now. Find yourself a seat and we’ll bring you a meal. You must be a hunter, so I must tell you the only flesh we have here is fish. Will that do?”

Sighth gave him a curious look. What does he suspect? Had the hospitable courtesy already worked its charm upon Sighth. Sighth sterned his facade, afraid he may have stood too comfortably.

“Oh, come now.” The innkeeper gave “I know times have changed and the human customs – those barbarians – have stained all the worlds. And besides, I know those eyes you wear, young cousin. Those eyes know death.”

Off duty for so long, had Sighth let himself slip. He couldn’t let these observations break his guard. This was only an innkeeper of a far off village. A defense quickly reflexed in his mind.

“Fish?” Sighth asked.

The innkeeper read the confusion.

“Oh. The woodlands don’t go on much longer to the east. Then by carriage we aren’t so far from the coast.”

Had he really travelled so far? The proximity of the coast awoke Sighth’s alert. It could have explained the city-scum. The innkeeper noticed Sighth’s attention move to the city-scum lot and added,

“Oh. I have no idea about them. Our village is much too rural for a lot like them. The waters are far into Cape Lemin, which is nowhere near any trade lines. Ah, all the costs for peace…”

This innkeeper was extremely sharp. Sighth had not prepared to meet such a character so far out here, but accepted the qualities were fit for his role as an extremely welcoming innkeeper.

“Now have a seat and we’ll soon let you know about your room. And a bath.” His arm extended towards the tables and Sighth followed way.

Ideal seating locked into his sight. It was the table in the darkest corner of the room, giving vantage of the whole place. Sighth had to move past the batch of city-scum to reach his table. Oh, how the thought of shading such vermin tickled him. But he let the temptation fade.

They held a bizarre air to them, similar but different to the usual scum. The life wrenching aura that sullied any goodness still wreaked but it was particularly strong. And it lacked warmth, something any living being still had. Their table held plates of food that was barely touched and seemed cold from lack of attention. And their drink was only hard poison, uncommon amongst common folk.

Finally, at his chosen table Sighth gave one last observation of the lot. Dressed in their dark modern city style attire, which stank of human fashion, he noticed their faces looked white, a cold white of dead. He saw one down a shot of poison, then they all returned to their lifeless silence.

He gave them no further heed and noticed the innkeeper approaching with food. Tough grain, a grilled fish, and soup. A remedy for travel.

“After your meal, when you’re ready, I’ll show you where to have a bath, and afterwards your room. Just ask the girls for any drink you’d like. Do enjoy, cousin.”

Cousin… They were not related in any way, but the innkeeper’s politeness showed his honour as an elf. All elves were cousins, just as all humans were, or all tokebs, trolls, vods , or all dwarves were cousins with one another. It was a strange sense of belonging the he evoked within Sighth. Sighth had no room for such ties, and shook off the thought.

After finishing his meal, another batch of four city-scum entered the inn and took their seats away from the others. The two groups did not share a word or a glance, but Sighth recognized the covert acknowledgement. The complete shun of each other was too stern to be natural. One of the new scum was a human. But he was as cold-faced and hollow-eyed as the others. Would he receive the same hospitality as the rest?

The innkeeper led Sighth to a small room after his bath. Sighth still wore his hood up. His face was not for anybody’s entertainment, but the innkeeper did not seem to mind.

The Room was a small space. A window at the back, a mattress to the right, and a desk to the left. Left alone, he moved to the center of the room and began to lightly knock, with his knuckles, on the left side wall. Finding where the framing stood hidden behind the wall, Sighth put out all the lights and sat, laying his back against the wall where the framing would be. To someone like Sighth, this was the safest place to rest. Equal distance away from the door or window, framing against his back to sense any sudden movements about the room, and to protect him from any slash that may come through the wall.

Slightly at ease, he still did not put down any of his possessions, and especially not his dagger. Fang he named her. The blade was always ready to awaken at any given moment, always one step away from duty.

Rest did not come to Sighth. This new sense of freedom was alien to him. There were no objectives to complete, nowhere to go. Why was he even at the quiet village? Someone like Sighth did not understand this pleasure called freedom. There was always duty to fulfill, a master to follow, and never a family to belong to. Why does this damned innkeeper call me cousin?

There was a calm that suddenly eased Sighth’s shoulders. His body finally felt it could rest. Even the warm bath before could not ease the dutiful elf. He felt a dirty guilt, taking it easy for once. Luckily something inside told him he needed the rest, at least a taste of it. It must have been the light of Eluna, shining through the window.

Hesitantly he gave himself another chance to look at the moon. I see she is beautiful. But why is she beautiful to me? He was always too stern to embrace any pleasures. I mustn’t lose focus he told himself and looked away.

His point on focus was right. Just a short time afterwards, he sensed another presence about. It was outside his room. Now, he was in complete focus. Focus in his surroundings, trying to catch the next clue of intrusion. Focus on himself, trying to contain the pace of his heart lest he get too excited and expose himself. Focus on Fang, lest she jumped out screaming for blood.

He waited, for a long time. He waited. He knew his senses could not have fooled him. He had not been off duty for so long that he had dulled his skill. So, on he focused, and on he waited.

The presence did not budge one bit, concealing itself from the suspense.

Time passed.

Hours he remained. Patient.

The sky began to lighten and Eluna could no longer be seen. But still, he did not move. Sighth was absolutely certain something had come and could not help but enjoy this moment. It had been long since he pushed his focus this way. There was no way he had imagined, to himself, an intrusion. Only the weak play on such doubt. Whatever came, knew how to kill.

Sighth decided to speak up.

“I wonder who’s come for me. I’m surprised an amateur has such persistence.”

Moments passed. The sky had turned a dark morning teal, which meant another bell must have passed. The fact excited Sighth and he pushed on, his focus, his fortitude, his patience.

On he waited.

Eventually it seemed that the mockery had finally cut through. A voice spoke from outside the window.

“I think you actually hurt my feelings there.” The voice gave a chuckle. “You’re awfully persistent for, what can we say, an instrument out of tune?”

Sighth finally smiled, focus still revving high. He replied to the voice,

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you. You should be thanking me the same.”

“For calling me green? You hurt me, you do.” The voice outside gave a sigh. “You’ve cut me deep, Sighth. As an ass would say. You have cut me real deep.”

“Since you’ve said so, you must be an ass then, Pince.” Sighth reassured.

Pince sighed again. “When will this torment ever end?”

“When you watch what you say.”

A silence lingered for a few moments. Pince, outside, then asked,

“So why do you claim me an amateur, and yet you know my name?”

“Because I saw you coming, like an ass on an open field. Anything else I must tell you?” Sighth smiled.

“No. I admit my fault. Your new technique almost had me fooled.”

New technique? Sighth thought to himself. He had not conjured a new technique for years, at least what was not already known. It had been 8 years off duty.

“What new technique do you speak of?” Sighth asked.

“When I first spotted you sitting there, I could tell that your air had actually dropped. I thought time had let your alertness get rusty. And so I rushed in.”

When I relaxed… Was it the spell of Eluna? It was only a second, but now look where it has gotten me. Sighth was flooded with more thought and guilt. But this was not the time to think. Sighth went on.

“As to why you are an amateur, I must add that you rushed in.”

“Oohh. You truly are cold. Truly ‘Unbound’.” Pince groaned. He let a moment pass then asked,

“So why do you think you know who I am, Sighth?”

“Pince,” Sighth smiled “You are the best shader around. But everybody knows of how sensitive you get”

“The best? You sound so sweet, but I would never dare to take the place of Kollan. He is the top.”

Sighth corrected him. “Somebody dead cannot be on top. Save your modesty.”

“So you’ve heard. I wonder how. But my modesty is true. Because when it comes to live or dead, there is still you, Sighth.”

Sighth almost flinched “I’m nothing like you!”

“No. You are not. You are far beyond the works of Kollan and I.”

What is he trying to pull? Sighth furthered his focus, but continued,

“Your successes are kills more commendable than mine will ever be, Pince. Don’t you dare flatter me!”

“My targets,” Pince slowed, “may have been big and many. But no one kills as coldly as you do, Sighth. It’s maybe why I was so fooled by your little act before. Even that is truly sinister. Did you know I would come?”

‘No one kills as coldly as you’? What is that supposed to mean? Killing is cold. The thoughts distracted him for a split second.

“No. I didn’t know you’d come.” Sighth remembered something. “Tell me, are those lifeless city-scum part of your retinue?”

“What? Where?”

“Inside the inn”

“No. I came alone.” The outside voice paused. “But it seems my new general has made an attempt of reassurance on me. And that brings me to my purpose here.”

“General?” Sighth asked, somewhat surprised.

“My assignment is to find you, which seems pointless if my general has found you first. Tell me, what did these city-scum look like? We may have been mistaken.”

Sighth thought back to the tables in the dining hall.

“They looked like the usual scum. Dark attire, no fire for anything in particular, out of place especially since we’re out here in a woodland village.”

A pause lingered until Pince spoke again.

“Hmm. Maybe they were just your usual scum, though I don’t see why they would come out here. Scum don’t have that sort of motivation.”

Both agreed at that. Pince then asked,

“Was there anything peculiar about them? Did they have a characteristic about them?”

Sighth did notice a difference. He focused even harder now, as remembering could have stayed his mind.

“Their foul nothingness and sense of decay was much stronger than I remembered any. Too strong, really. There was truly no goodness about them, or that could even come about them. I’m surprised they were even inside.”

Pince kept back his voice. Sighth then added,

“Also, the scum were cold. It felt different to the usual scum. I couldn’t sense any fire of life. It was almost as if they were dead.”

Pince spoke,

“Ah. Yes. My master has found you. How? I’m not sure. I almost feel redundant, but that’s not all my assignment involves.” He paused a moment. “Don’t panic now!”

The surrounding air shook! Sighth sense a movement. Pince was moving in! He could hear it. Sighth sparked into a defensive stance, Fang out and ready. Pince swiftly shot into the room, barely making a sound. His speed was unbelievable.

The shader was wrapped in dark tones. Black straps all around his limbs and core held his clothes tight to his skin so that no loose ends hung. Sighth saw Pince’s elven eyes. There was no aggression about them. His face was covered, but revealed enough to read his expression. Sighth grew suspicious of the intruder. Is he trying to trick me? Pince had suspected a trick from Sighth before, this could have been his own attempt.

Pince reached inside his chest pocket. The action was too sloppy for drawing a weapon.

“It seems you have a letter I am to deliver.” Pince informed as he pulled an envelope out. “This is the easy part of my assignment, given I find you first.”

Sighth still in full focus, felt all the factors feigned a flawed fallacy. Pince is no mail boy. What would change him into a messenger? Even I wouldn’t take such ridicule. Sighth figured something was not right.

“What does your general have for me?” demanded Sighth.

“Only the letter can tell.”

“Keep your letter, then. I have no use for scripts. Who of all chaos could convince this pathetic duty of you?”

Unusually, Pince lowered his tone.

“There is change erupting, Sighth. And a new power has finally awoken. He offers something only those such as you and I could ever dream of.”

Sighth toughened at such news. He was no stranger to mind games. He knew the enchantment of appeal. But then he noticed a raw honesty in Pince’s eyes. It was almost innocent honesty. With no aggression in his manner, this was hard to ignore.

“What would you know of what I dream?” Sighth then asked. Pince met his eyes.

“We are one in the same, my friend. We kill because we can. We kill because we know the taste and we live so that we can feel it again. We kill because it is easy.” Pince cocked his head. “Tell me, my friend. What has kept you quiet for so long. Why is it I find you here, in some forgotten village?”

Sighth kept stern.

“We are not friends. And my business is my own. Now, leave!”

“So cold. I sometimes wonder why I even open my heart to you.” The shader placed a hand to his chest.

“What heart? Be gone, Pince!” Sighth’s free hand gestured to the window. Pince raised the envelope before them.

“We still have your letter.” And he flicked it to Sighth. Sighth knocked the letter back to the sender. Again he gestured to the window. Pince snatched the airborne letter and moved one foot back.

Darkly, he then spoke,

“I’m afraid this letter cannot be refused.” Suddenly, Pince’s chin lowered, his gaze still locked, his foot still behind. Under his breathe, Pince whispered. Sighth barely made out what he said, but he knew the words. Knew them very well.

“Kissaki Strike!“

The air shook with ferocity! Sighth knew the intensity. The summon of a lethal attack! A killing blow. Pince’s body immediately flashed forward. His blade extended ahead, just millimeters from contact. Sighth had to react. Now! Right away!

Sighth phrased,

“Kissaki Line!” and in time, twisted his stance to the side. Right foot forward, evading the attack. The blade was too close for comfort. Already in range, Pince slashed left to his prey. Sighth dashed forward, just dodging the attack. His hunter was not phased. The blade darted to Sighth’s chest.

“Kissaki Hinge!” and in perfect pace, Sighth’s shoulder swung back to evade, then returned its position, anticipating the blade’s flight. The blade swooped back, now keen on limbs. It was a fierce falcon, never stopping its onslaught, even midflight. Sighth’s muscles burned matching its speed. He acknowledged that Pince was faster. That was the winning factor. Usually.

Sighth couldn’t help but smile at the deadliness he faced. Inside this small room, he liked the limiting uncertainty that the walls enclosed. His heart raced at the risks. Never considering escape. He would face death head on, lest he never met the chance.

Pince’s saw his prey’s amusement, and wore the same smile. He whispered again,

“Kissaki Fury!” and in his trance of destruction, sprayed combinations of slashes, jabs, sweeps and even kicks, all the while never straying from perfect focus and positioning. Sighth, equipped with the same discipline, phrased,

“Kissaki Rhythm!” And in his own state of trance, dodged, pushed, and bringing forth Fang, parried and riposted the lethal barrage.

Within the tiny room of this wood-elven village inn, demons danced, and danced on par.

Both wielded the ‘Kissaki’ forms, loyal to its wrath. Its technique was said to be unmatched in all the worlds, and was the closest thing to evoking the true spirit of a killer. Who could say otherwise? The discipline of Kissaki earned them both their fame as shade mongers.

The village remained still. All that could be heard were the slashes through air, swift movement, and the sound of steel on steel. This was the music of killers who clashed.

Amongst the exchange on strikes, Sighth began to resent his focus. He knew the discipline kept his fighting clean and certain, but that’s not what he enjoyed.

Pince gave another strike forward, always brilliant in his form and speed. Sighth now fed up, readied to execute another Kissaki Hinge. Too hasty in his fury, he forgot to speak the words. Yet the movement still flowed. In perfect speed, Sighth’s shoulders swung back to evade, then returned its position, but a free fist followed the shoulder and struck Pince across the face. Sighth foresaw the opening. Fang then slashed Pince across the back and shoulder. A ruthless slash.

Blood spilt across the floor, but it was not only Pince’s. Sighth peered down to find a blade stuck in his side. He had given into his thirst, and his indulgence left him careless. Not that he cared, now. The thirst gave no regards for wounds, fatal or not. Wounds only served as a gift. A power. A reason to unleash the wreckage.

The shaders leapt back into position, preparing for the next blow. Pince remained calm and clouded his concern. Sighth smiled his killer intent. Who was here to kill who? The notion lost in the intensity. Skill pushed Sighth to check the damage. Painful, but not fatal. Pince seemed to be in better shape, surprisingly. Isn’t he hurt? A quick assessment of the situation woke Sighth from his madness. Realization reminded him the he had gone too far. The wound put Sighth in a vulnerable spot and he was grateful he had gotten back to his senses.

Pince’s foot moved behind him again. The motion all too familiar. Pince was ready to kill. The wound’s growing pain awoke Sighth to his sudden inability to move with grace. He needed a perfect Kissaki Line. He need an evasion that would save him. Pince was much too fast.

Fear lingered now. Did this room always look so dark? Sighth’ was losing focus. He knew that the morning star was approaching but yet he could not see a sign of light. What can I do? he panicked.

In his sight, it seemed somebody was standing in between the two of them. The figured glowed a green shine, yet was still translucent. Maybe this figure was the Gate Keeper, himself, ready to take his next guest to the Untold. Blood loss was known to conceive visions to the weary.

Pince’s eyes gazed at the figure for a second. Did he see him too? This figure wore ancient robes, from the elven days of old. It was male, and he wore the robes of a shader, and held a traditional two-hand sword.

The stranger looked at both Sighth and Pince with acknowledgement. Was he real? Suddenly the figure turned towards Pince, and vanished in a second.

What? Pince saw him too.

Pince whispered under his breathe, and disappeared in an instant. Time was up.

A voice deep inside soared up, and Sighth made a call he never made before.

“Yaksha Lance…“

There was quiet. Too much quiet. Quite too much quiet. Opening his eyes, Sighth saw darkness. A million thoughts clouded his mind. Has it come to this? There could have been more than this. I know… Sighth knew in that moment, he wished he was more careful. What now? I don’t see a thing. Will I ever? The silence left him lost in thoughts, and now he begged for sight. He needed to see, he did not know what, but he needed see. Needed to know. Something. Anything.

The darkness began to clear, but there was still a darkness before him. Fang was stuck deep into the dark. She was his true companion. She was all he could trust in this darkness. Sensation returned and he felt that Fang was holding something heavy. Sighth was crouching under the weight. It was Pince. Pince’ sword was out in mid air, extended above, too far past Sighth’s head.

The elf drew Fang out of her victim. Time had shown dangers to Sighth for as long as he had known, but this was a first. The first he had ever felt the stalk of a master hunter, one who was on his tail. It was a reckoning reality. He knew he was lucky.

What… Sighth then remembered he called an unknown name. He remembered the form he used. Yaksha… He heard that name once. But what was it?

At his feet, Pince, the true shade monger of all the worlds, lay at rest. Beside his body, the letter…