We were over halfway through our journey to the jump-hole entrance linking into the Yautja Nexus and thanks to a proprietary regeneration coil, my left arm was nearly completely healed.
The technology was one of our earliest medical breakthroughs, though it was a little embarrassing that it was necessary due to how prone yautja are to having their limbs amputated.
Mourning Crow agreed to transcribe everything she knew about the Graven to save time in the upcoming interrogations. I set her up on the bridge to record journal entries detailing all of her encounters, their rituals, and any other relevant details during her stay in Thorngate. She was surprisingly compliant and took the liberty to organize and cross-reference each entry by name, type, and ability.
However, I did come across a peculiar inconsistency.
The majority of her entries were in-depth and comprehensive. She even included original songs written in tribute to each of her battles. But there was one empty file labeled PASSIVE that contained no designation or linking tabs. Days went by and still, she ignored it.
Plenty of time remained before the jump, but I questioned if the accessing file's intended contents would necessitate manual extraction.
"By what means did you travel?" I entered the bridge while Mourning Crow was taking a well-earned break between entries.
"After Thorngate?" Mourning Crow pondered silently while opening a narrow hatch on the outer shell of her guitar using a blue multiheaded screwdriver with two overlapping clouds engraved on the handle.
She'd abandoned her speckled human attire for her more practical razkur two-piece.
"Not really sure," the razkur shrugged. "Killing a Graven creates a conduit between you and its essence. The substance can be expelled but I think the connection continues to linger. Plus, surviving Thorngate came with its own consequences."
"Like?" I leaned in, watching her tinker with the motley of wires hidden within her instrument while her ears crimped into a formation I classified as frustration.
"It's weird, alright," she sighed. "A few days after Thorngate I got this funny prickling sensation, like something in the distance calling me over and wanting to say hi."
I leaned back in skepticism.
"I can't make sense of it either," Mourning Crow huffed. "I was alone and trapped on a big ball of nothing, so I went to check it out. Next thing I knew, time passed like I was walking in a trance and bam! Everything around me was different, sky, trees, stars. I was on a completely different planet. A few days after that I found another Graven."
"Do you think this other Graven summoned you?"
I knew the creatures were powerful, but the ability to generate point-to-point interplanetary wormholes was daunting.
Through Mourning Crow's recordings, I learned that killing a Graven gave the victor access to immense power at the cost of their sanity. The only path to true conquest was to ignore the power and reject it.
I was still in the early stages of comprehending the full extent of the Graven's capabilities but the potential for generating a personal stable wormhole was one hell of a temptation!
"Oh, without question!" Mourning Crow bobbed her head vigorously. "The transport happens like clockwork every time I kill a Graven. I reckon, annihilating every Graven in Thorngate put a big fat target on me. Either that, or I've been branded as unfinished business or declared officially delicious."
"Should I be concerned that you will be yanked from my ship?" I sat up, questioning if I should activate my shields and if that would even be effective.
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YOU ARE READING
The Hunter's Song
Science FictionIn winning, she lost everything. Mourning Crow was kidnapped at age 13 and forced to compete in a 1000yr death match. She won the final showdown, and all it cost was everyone she loved. But that was all years ago before she finally broke free. Now s...