Fear the Old Blood

A Monster Becoming: Part 1

The Beginning (edited 3/25/22)

The cold stone chilled her spine as the heavy hammer lifted over the giant's head, prepared to crush her. The hunter choked slightly on the blood spilling from her lips. This is the end.

Death looked strange. Flashes of green light  and echoes of sparks fluttered above her. The beast faded into grey. Her tingling fingers gripped uselessly at the dusty cobblestone. Perhaps she was trying to find her friend, just for one last human connection before the end. Or maybe her instincts told her to get a blood vial — a last attempt to save herself. She felt the stab of the syringe into her skin, a shockwave of adrenaline coursing through her, but this would not save her from the crushing blow.

Waiting for death should have been swift. The hammer should have fallen. The sounds of metal slicing flesh should have dissipated. She should have fallen asleep into the void by now.

But instead, she floated through the air and then dropped into a soft bed of feathers. The gods are welcoming me into their bed. Then something licking her skin, removing the old, clotted blood staining her skin. A weird feeling, like a slimy tongue dredging over her.

All things faded just as this wait for death and in the blackness, she hoped to find peace.

"Welcome home, good hunter," a sweet voice echoed in her ear, like sounds moving through water. Her eyelids fluttered, as if from a deep sleep, and saw a pale white sky above her. Soft tufts of grass cradled her like a mothers embrace. Is this the afterlife? She pulled herself from the small bristles, greeted by rod iron and stone. A graveyard. Headstones jutted from the earth tracing a cobbled path. As she spun around she saw an structure at the top, perhaps a mausoleum of sorts. The doors were shut but who rested there? Movement caught her eye. A woman or at least she thought it was a woman, kneeled next to her. Her porcelain skinned looked too perfect. It wasn't marked by scars or dirt. Glassy eyes, unblinking, watched her. "What is it you desire?"

The words shot life back into her and she gasped to find air. The giant. The hammer. The hunter crawled back, still seeing the flashes of green. 

"Who are you?"

"I was created by a hunter," the stranger said, holding out her hand. The joints of her fingers looked like those of a doll, each knuckle a mechanism. Yet she was speaking and moving like a human. On closer inspection, her skin was that of glass, fragile, and fair.  "I help hunters in need."

"What is this place?"

"You are in a dream, Auna," the doll stated. "This is Gehrmann's workshop."

The hunter, Auna, was surprised to hear her name. She had not told anyone from the hunter party her name, for fear of being ridiculed for her sex. However, the first hunt proved to not care about sex at all, as all but one man died at the hands of beasts. This place was that of legend and even Gehrmann had not been seen in years. The city had been left to rot, along with all of the people inside. Including her and her mother.

Auna relaxed, her eyes traveled up the steps of the building, assuming that Gehrmann would be inside, developing new weapons and runes for the hunters that passed through.

"No, he is not here right now," the doll said as if she knew what Auna was thinking. "But tell me, good hunter, what do you desire?"

"I'm not dead then," Auna reflected, remembering the vision from what seemed years ago. "I want to become a true hunter like my father."

"Your heart is true. That can't be said of many hunters now," the doll replied, her beautiful features frozen in porcelain. "Nothing is as it seems anymore. But you are weak. Very well, let the echoes become your strength. Let me stand close. Now shut your eyes."

The doll placed her hand on Auna's cheek, its smooth surface cool to the touch. Auna did as she was instructed and shut her eyes, feeling a rush of energy flow through her.