Radiance and Shadows

Eleven

When Synika returned, she found the tiefling curled up on the chest in her room. Smiling slightly, she pulled a blanket from her own bed and threw it over the girl, laying down herself.

She lightly whistled to Salyrria, who stepped onto the bed with her. The tiger stretched out, and the elf laid against her warm fur. She idly stroked the cat's ears, staring up at the ceiling. The animal purred deeply, vibrating Synika's body as she thought.

She'd gone through most of Knox's assignments with a fury, spending months traveling to and from places, all to help people she didn't know. She wasn't even sure why she did it. When asked, her only reason ever seemed to be, "I just don't like bullies."

That much was true, but she often considered if the curse that was now a part of her had something to do with it.

Was she sincerely that bloodthirsty? Or was it just her overthinking mind accusing itself? She turned on her side, resting her head on Salyrria's belly. Maybe her motives were selfish until she had a reason for them not to be.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was both.

She had gone to Chult for herself, in search of better weapons, but ended up staying to help out after she found out about the Thayan death curse killing innocents, and the necromancers seeking to claim the jungle. Long days in Chult were enough to destroy her skin; the blood she had consumed in order to repair that sustained damage was immense, but she had no issue draining the blood of every Thayan she encountered after watching a group of them beat a young child senseless for accidentally wandering into their camp. She reflected most of all about that jungle itself though, because she felt the Batiri and beasts within it were the rightful owners, and as vile as they were, she regretted killing so many of them just to get what she wanted.

But Chult aside, so many other places had ended the same way. She'd gone to those places for the promise of reward, and ended up fighting to help. Both sides of her were winning and losing at once, and she didn't know if she should leave well enough alone, or try to change herself.

She turned the thoughts over and over.

Blacklake. She'd gone to Blacklake to prove her strength, only to realize that the people there were actually suffering from the bandits and rebels.. so she'd killed every single one of them she'd seen. Even one man that she knew wasn't even in the group for more than a day, she'd struck down.

Cleaved him in half, actually.

She wondered if the young man had family. She wondered why he'd joined such a group as the bandits. But at the same time, she didn't care. They were hurting people.. but so was she.

Her entire career had been killing people to save people. Her life in Barovia had been a lie, and outside Barovia, it had been hypocrisy.

She turned over again.

Every night she went through this. Happy for those she saved, but hypocritical because of who she'd killed.

What was right and wrong but points of view? Nothing.

Killing to save.

That's all she knew.

Rothé Valley. She'd gone there to find texts on the styles and techniques of her chosen weapons. Apparently lost to the farm town's library ages ago, she'd tracked them down to learn from them, but she'd ended up staying and killing hundreds of Drow single handedly.

And for what?

Killing to save.

Everywhere she went, death followed her. She felt as though her touch itself was deadly.

Synika sat up in frustration. The moon was high in the night sky, rays beaming onto her soft skin.

She studied the sleeping face of the tiefling just a few feet away. She smiled bitterly, jealous of the girl. The girl never had to hurt anyone; as soon as Synika gave her one of her blades, she knew instantly that Zina had never swung one in her life. Little things like that seemed to get to her. Everyone else was so innocent, and here was her, a trained sun elf assassin, turned vampiric, and let loose on the world to do as she pleased.

She tried to do the best she could, but it had gotten her nothing but a massive river of spilled blood. Blood spilled by her hand.

Killing to save.

Her first 16 years had been a bitter, bitter lie, and now she was called a hero by townsfolk, called a phantom by enemies, but feared all around, nonetheless.

Almost 17 years old and already feared by the people and beings of every place she'd gone. Very few people had been kind to her like she was a girl, and not a violent beast. She'd tried so hard to be sweet and kind, but even when she was, she was regarded as a lit fuse. Even those who didn't know she was a vampire seemed to fear her simply for her power and skill.

She wanted to help, but she wanted to run, she wanted to show off her ability to help, but she wanted to hide. The girl was and still is two halves, fighting to make peace. A violent instinct battling a natural, serene, graceful kindness.

A battle of light and dark.

The elf stood, stretching. The night was young, and she had things to attend to. She checked her food reserves, both the cabinets and her cold storage box.

Nearly empty. She thought.

She sighed. She could leave to get sustenance for the morning, or she could wait until the tiefling awoke, and ask her what they should do. Synika knew the girl would have more questions, and she had more of her own, as well.

She pulled a pillow from her bed and gently lifted Zina's head. The girl muttered a few mushed words, her eyes rolling under her lids. Synika slid the pillow beneath her, placing her head softly down on it.

She smiled a little, turning away and returning to her own bed.

All the people she'd killed from the cult to free the prisoners.

All the people she killed, period.

She sighed again, sidling up to her tiger, and closing her eyes.