Estera was often told how much she took after her mother. What people didn't know, was that being the daughter of Catalina Montenegro meant competing with her reputation. It meant living in her shadow. But this time the shadow would shrink under the glare of Estera's sword, and she was determined to emerge as the warrior she was destined to be.
Pushing against the citizens running past her, she headed for the front gates where she knew she would find her mother. If there was one thing the woman did best, it was making an entrance. She wouldn't dare set foot inside the fortress until she was certain she could step over the bodies that carved the opening for her. Then she'd stand on their corpses like a wolf over bones after a feast of flesh, and wear their blood like a headdress of rubies.
The plan was to push her from that pile of limbs, and show her mother that perhaps at one time she was legendary, but now it was just old tales.
She didn't have to search far. A faint whistle carried over the war cries of people around her, jerking her attention towards it. There Catalina was in the center of the crowd with her right-hand man, Elliot Shaw, at her side. Her bronze skin was misty with sweat, even as the clouds churned cold winds onto the fortress. They were like proud conductors of an orchestra as they stood in the middle of the chaos they cultivated. Catalina's eyes were narrowed in on her like a wolf waiting for its prey to make a move.
"Ready when you are!" Estera shouted over the purr of the gatling guns.
Smirking, her mother shifted her eyes towards Elliot in a sideways glance. He patted her waist with a snigger of his own and nodded at Estera. She watched his mouth form the words, finish her, before stepping back as if giving Catalina space to do her worst. The woman sauntered forward, her hips swaying like she had all the time in the world to standoff with her daughter. As if it was a game.
"Andale, mija, show me what you got." Catalina beckoned, teasingly.
When Estera drew her sword, she did so without the weight of heavy leather protecting her. Unlike her mother who was in head to toe armor with her signature long dark hair cascading over one shoulder. Debris swirled at her mother's feet, and she drew an imaginary line with the tip of her steel-toe boot.
"Cuando cruses, te mato." She curled a crooked finger as invitation.
"Oh, it won't be me who dies when I cross your little line." Estera spat, the glop landing between their feet.
Around them, citizens fought in a blur against warriors with swirls of electricity exiting their rifles as smoke veiled the streets. Catalina reached for the double swords on her back, but Estera wasn't going to let her have the first strike. She charged and swung, meeting her mother's sabers as they formed a cross, blocking her blade. Sparks skipped off the edge when she slid it out and tried to counter the strike. Trapped in the pinch of her mother's swords, their eyes met. The love she once saw during her fiftieth fight, was replaced by streaks of crimson paint that matched the resentment in her mother's irises. Estera spun out of the way and reached for the dagger on her hip. With a flick of the wrist, the blade slid out, and she held it parallel to her sword.
"Andale!" She nodded at her mother. "I want to see what the Great Catalina Montenegro is all about."
Without hesitation, the woman struck, and with both swords in hand, she kept the swipes coming. Estera jumped back, dodging each hiss as the steel whipped through the air. She raised her sword and countered the blows, but Catalina had been her teacher after all and could telegraph every move she was going to make. Each time Estera spun away, her mother slid back in front of her without a single strand of hair out of place. She was perfect, but not indestructible. With her sword locked between Catalina's blades, she had to think quickly. Using the dagger in her other hand, she arced it towards the woman who birthed her and sliced across her cheek. Catalina reeled back with fingers going to the gash.
"Hija de puta!"
"Careful, mamá, you insult yourself," Estera tisked and used the precious seconds to knock one of the swords from her grip.
It skidded across the ground with a clang, teetering the scale of power in Estera's direction. Venom coated her mother's tongue as insults flowed from her mouth in a drip that verbally sealed her disownment from the south. They were no longer kin. Enemies instead. Her mother charged forward, and her movements seemed quicker now that she was down to one sword. The metals collided and slid across each other in a screech grating Estera's teeth. Before her mother could counter, she ducked and dragged her dagger across her mother's thigh, then popped up behind her to strike at her back. Catalina shrieked but whipped around with her sword swinging like a wrecking ball. Estera teetered back, almost escaping it, but the razor tip grazed her cheek. Her mother swung again, and she stumbled away, this time dodging the blade. Had it not been for the wind caressing the line of blood oozing from her flesh, she wouldn't have even noticed the wound.
"Looks like we're even."
"Sólo en la muerte seremos iguales!" Catalina hissed as they circled one another.
"Only in death, huh? Well then, I guess we'll never be equals because I'm not dying today, but you are."
"We'll see."
The sword in Catalina's hand clanged against the fortress floor as she loosened her leather armor. The spikes on her shoulders rattled when she shimmied the rest off. Next was the sheath for her sword as she unbuckled it from her waist, all while eyeing Estera. Strands of her mother's dark hair floated in the wind, while others stuck to the sweat on her forehead. Meanwhile, Estera paced, giving the woman the respect of a warrior as she prepared for the final showdown. When the final piece of armor landed on the ground, she stopped and brought her fists into a fighter's stance.
"Let's get this over with."
"Agreed," Catalina said and charged forward.
Their bodies collided as they crashed halfway across the imaginary line dividing them. Unlike the fist-fights in the arena with unspoken rules warriors abided by, this one was reckless. It was a fight to the death as her mother's humid breath misted Estera's neck while their limbs tangled. Using any tactic was fair game as Catalina grabbed a handful of Estera's hair. The burn radiated in her scalp, but she gritted her teeth against the pain and snatched the dark cascade flowing over her mother's shoulder. Like two rams, they held each other in a lock, but Catalina used her free hand to jab through every open space she could find.
The sting that spread across Estera's nose and the crunch that filled her ears caused her eyes to water. Blood began flowing from her nostrils, and down her chin, but Estera wouldn't let go of her mother. Instead, she wrapped a leg around her torso, forcing their bodies to collapse to the hard fortress floor in a thud that flattened her lungs with a sharp exhale. Disoriented, she felt her mother push her limbs aside and climb on top of her. Deja vu flashed in her retinas as she found herself in the exact same position that got her expelled from the south.
Except this time her grandmother wasn't around to save her from death.
She needed to save herself.
Searching the ground with her hands, Estera spotted a broken arrow on the ground beside them. The glass tip was still intact with tiny electric pulses flashing inside. From the corner of her eye something glinted under the overcast sky, and in her mother's hand was a blade. As she blocked the dagger with her wounded arm, she stretched her fingers to clasp the arrow. Her mother continued to push her weight down, and the tip of the sharp knife began piercing her chest. Estera let out a feral shriek, her fingers finally catching the thin wood.
Forming a fist around it, she arced the arrow towards Catalina, stabbing her right in the neck and the electricity filled her with a sizzle, as blood oozed out. The woman abandoned the blade to slap a hand to her wound, with eyes blinking rapidly. Her mouth opened and closed, but Estera didn't care to hear what she had to say and pushed her off.
As Catalina rolled to the side with her nails clawing at her throat, Estera gathered a sword from the ground and crouched over her. As a child, her mother was someone she aspired to become - a legendary warrior known for fighting in one of the greatest battles - a woman who feared nothing. Now, however, she saw that the thick leather armor was only a cover for what was beneath. And what was beneath was someone scared to die just like anyone else.
"Ya no eres sangre de mi sangre," Estera said to her, and when her mother reached for her, she batted the hands away. "Your blood belongs to the earth now."
Straightening her posture, she raised the sword into the air, and brought it back down, decapitating her.
She stared at the head and its blinking eyes still registering the connection to its body and pushed it away with her boot. Around her explosions of electricity were going off. Warriors were skyrocketing into the air, their bodies convulsing mid-flight before falling back to the earth in a thud that spewed crimson from their mouths as their lungs exhaled for the last time. Wind blew across her blood-spattered face, causing strands of her dark hair to cling to it. She blinked up at the overcast sky as droplets began to fall.
Rain would wash away the devastation staining the streets throughout the fortress, but not the shame she now carried.
Around her, the citizens who had retreated were finding their way back and forcing the invaders to flee. They flung glass spheres that crashed at their feet with electricity weaving around their legs like tentacles before launching them into the air. Those who the explosives missed, began racing for the gates, but Estera stood there as Magnus and the others rushed passed her while flinging more bombs. Her mother's people were defeated, and like the cowards they truly were deep down inside, they ran from the fortress with tails tucked between their legs.
"Estera." Magnus grabbed her arm, and she jerked her attention to him, but as she blinked, she noticed that people were cleaning up the street, while others were wheelbarrowing corpses to a pile off to the side.
How long had she been standing there?
"It's over?" she asked.
"Not quite..." He pointed to the entrance where Jupiter was dragging Elliott Shaw through the gates.
"What will you do with him?"
"That's up to my father."
People in the street froze, their necks craning to see as the man kicked and screeched while his back scraped against the rough ground. It was a miracle he had any spine left to put up a fight let alone declare how he would kill every last northerner he laid eyes on. Estera smirked with a snort exiting her nose. Her mother's body still lay in the street and now Catalina's right-hand man had been reduced to an embarrassment that citizens were shaking their heads at. Some even pointed while hiding their laughter behind bandaged hands.
"I want everyone to see!" Jupiter's hoarse voice bounced off the buildings in an echo as loud as thunder.
The muscles in his neck contorted and the veins on his arms swelled as he threw Elliott onto the Great Hall steps. His body tumbled before landing in a sprawl with his bloody face pointed at the sky. Jupiter stepped behind him and used his thick head of hair to haul him into a sitting position. Elliott's wince pierced the susurrus from observers as they gathered around.
"This man, this pedazo de mierda..." He pulled Elliott's hair back, causing the glow from the overcast to shine on his face. "He's the last Leader standing from the south. He is the one who ordered the death of my wife, Maricela!"
Murmurs swept through the crowd like the wind caressing the sweat on their foreheads. As they all glanced at one another, a person shouted. "He should die!"
"Yes, kill him! Another said.
"Matalo!"
"Death."
"Death," they began to chant.
"Estera." Jupiter turned to her, and the crowd shifted, forming a wake for her to pass through. "Your father was an inventor from the east. He designed our lightning traps, and he was my friend. You belong with us here in the north, Estera. The mark on your neck couldn't be more clearer, and this man robbed you from having a father. He murdered him when he sent henchmen after my wife and slaughtered her entire caravan in the wasteland." Extending his dagger to her he said, "Show this man no mercy and everything you've done will be forgiven."
Placing one foot after the other on the concrete steps, she approached the Great Hall like an animal assessing a trap. Jupiter motioned the knife at her and their fingers grazed as she wrapped her palm around the engraved wood handle. Their eyes met and he nodded at her.
"Do it and all will be forgiven."
Taking position in front of her mother's right-hand man, she brought the sharp edge to Elliott's throat and Jupiter nodded once more, encouraging her. In the past, and even moments ago, she wouldn't have hesitated. However, Catalina's blood was still damp on her garments, and she found herself searching past the crowd for the lump that still lay in the street. When her gaze found Magnus instead, her hand lowered to her side. Being accepted by the north was more than what she could ask for, but it wasn't what she ultimately wanted.
What she wanted - what she needed, was for Magnus to forgive her.
"I cannot..." she whispered.
"Que?" Jupiter leaned in.
"I've killed enough today, and even though this man doesn't deserve an ounce of my mercy, I will give to him. I want to be better than him."
A sigh as profound as a canyon escaped Jupiter's lungs and on its current was a hint of mint from the leaves he sometimes chewed like tobacco. He reached for the dagger, and the weight of it left Estera's hand but what remained was the billow of relief she felt when Magnus nodded at her from across the sea of faces.
"Estera Montenegro," Jupiter announced. "Former citizen of the south, and new friend of the north, has declared mercy for this man. Is anyone opposed?"
"Yes," someone shouted.
"He should die!" said another.
"Mató a Maricela!"
"Is that what you all want?" Jupiter asked.
"Yes!" A few of them shouted.
"So you disagree with Estera's choice?"
The crowd began chanting once more with raised fists in the air, and their voices infecting the person next to them like poisonous gas.
"Silence!" Magnus shouted and began pushing through them. When he made his way to the Great Hall steps, he snatched the knife from his father's hand. Pointing it at the crowd, he said, "You want this man to die? Then come up here, take this dagger, and do it yourself!"
Murmurs swarmed the atmosphere like bees around a hive as they all looked to one another, waiting for someone amongst them to make a move. When no one stepped forward, he let the knife slip from his hand and stared over his shoulder at his father.
"We are not the south. We will show Elliot Shaw mercy, but he will live his days below ground in prison."
"I'm afraid I cannot agree," Jupiter looked away with a sigh. "Esto es para Maricela..."
Placing his arms around Elliott's neck, he squeezed with a quick jerk and Magnus flinched at the crunch it gave off. The crowd gasped when Jupiter backed away, letting the body fall sideways.
"Let that be my last decision as leader," he announced to everyone. "As for the rest of you, we have lots of work ahead of us to restore this place. So please, take your anger, and point the energy towards that."
As the crowd began dispersing, he made his way down the steps to follow, but Magnus latched onto his arm. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going home."
"You know what I mean!"
Sighing, his father replied, "I'm retiring, and like my father did the day we won the Great War, I am handing this place over to you. It's yours as of right now."
"But I'm not ready." Magnus narrowed his eyes at him.
"You are and you'll adapt," Jupiter insisted and when Magnus tried to object, he turned to Estera and stroked a finger across the lightning bolt birthmark on her collar bone. "You have your father's blood in you, and like him, you'll adjust to the north, the way he once did. Let today be the day you shed your wolf pelt and walk among us in your true form."
"I'm afraid that's not up to me..." She slid her gaze to Magnus.
"Well, then I guess I should leave the two of you to talk." Jupiter patted her cheek.
With a spin on his heels, he left Estera with Magnus on the steps of the Great Hall. Wind blew debris of dry leaves skittering across the garnet puddles spread throughout the street.
"So what now?" she asked.
"We clean this place up."
"No, I mean, now that this place is yours, what will you do with me?"
Closing his eyes, he brought a hand to them and began rubbing. She watched as his chest slowly expanded and contracted, unlike the rapid thoughts most likely spinning in his head.
"You proved yourself today," he finally said. "It'll take a while for me to completely trust you, but I think that eventually, we'll be ok again."
"Are you saying I can stay?"
"Do you want to?"
Her fingers grazed the birthmark on her collarbone and she nodded. "I do."
"Then we'll start from there. In the meantime, let's go check on everyone, and make an account for the souls we lost today. Think you can handle that?"
"I can."
"Good."
They began walking side by side but other than the click of their boots against the pavement, it was silent between them. As they passed citizens cleaning up the street, she thought about the day she stood outside of her home in the south - exiled and wounded. Time was an amusing element that could change a person like the snap of a bone.
And just like bones, a person could heal.
However, depending on how it was mended, it could be smooth or as crooked as her mother's fingers. Estera wanted the bones of her broken life to heal smoothly. If she was going to commit to the north - become part of it, then she needed to do as Jupiter said.
Stopping, she bent over and began untying her laces.
"What are you doing?" Magnus asked.
"Getting rid of the last piece of the south I own," she grunted while removing her boots.
"I never liked those boots anyway."
"Funny." She smirked at him, and his smile made one form on her own mouth. It was a tiny step, but one in the direction that would regain his trust.
When her feet touched the ground, the cold pavement bled through her socks thanks to a puddle. She shivered but continued to smile as she walked the boots over to a fire burning in a barrel that citizens were tossing trash into. After hurling them in, she dusted off her hands and inhaled the mountain air.
"Now I'm ready."
And she was. She was ready to walk among the people, no longer as a wolf, but as Estera Montenegro - a daughter of the north.