Short story collection

Ebbing Darkness - Part 9

Daily excursions came to a slow. More often than not Y/N would make home under the rock holding heroes. His schedule began to revolve around it, and soon enough it would take a short walk to see what he was up to.
  The sun was setting on a cold Friday. Blake waded through freshly-fallen snow, content with the setting she adapted to.
  The school came to a crawl. Most students who wanted to leave had already taken the earlier Bullheads, and those that stayed, like her team, had settled in for a long night.
  A board game was discussed and as usual Weiss wanted no part in it. So a fourth player was in the works.
  As she neared the monument she caught the faintest bits of a conversation. She paused, hesitant to barge in or interrupt. However, much to her surprise, there was no other voice.
  She rounded the tall statue and froze. Her eyes, once in a half-lidded focus, now widened. Stood before Y/N was a short individual.
  Y/N held out a taught hand, keeping her in place as he spoke to them. Whoever they were, she couldn't discern their appearance, only the winged sword hanging from their neck and the bone-white robe hanging loosely around them.
  "No." Y/N said to the mysterious figure. "No... I'd heard the name in passing... I disagree..."
  The figure, standing with unseen hands clasped before them, turned. It paid Blake no mind at all as it retreated into the shadows, blending into its dark depths until it was fully gone.
  "Who...?" Blake's words stopped as she took a step closer. It wasn't a trick of the eyes, she had seen the figure fade away entirely. "Who was that??"
  "Many things. But an ally for sure." Y/N said with a deep breath and hum. "If by chance you see them again, don't talk to them."
  Blake looked back to the overhanging rock with concern. Never had Y/N taken up such a strict tone with her, let alone one other than kindness.
  "Don't worry yourself with them." Y/N said, taking up a softer tone.
  He raised his sword up and over his shoulder. The light hit his gauntlet, revealing the very same winged emblem set over his Storm Bolter.
  "One time," He started, hoping to satiate her curiosity. "One told me they knew my father. They said nothing else other than he was safe and that one day he would return."
  "One...?" Blake frowned.
  "That's right. Some are messengers, some assistants. There's no way to discern who is who, only that they come here on their own volition for my sake."
  "They..." Blake caught herself. She'd nearly called the being an 'it'. "They're not human."
  "As far as you or I could tell." He said softly. "I've learned then that my father would never return. They give news of a place that isn't Remnant. A place far beyond our reach. To come here is a journey on its own, but those chosen as wards or allies are set in stone."
  "Who else do they visit?"
  "I don't know." He looked up at the dim stars and their growing brightness. "I assume my brothers. Although that's merely speculation. I fear I may never know. They only tell me what I need to know."
  "Your father..." Blake's ears twitched as she recalled the tales of The Lion. "I always learn something new about him."
  "It makes you wonder if he was truly one of the gods of our people." He said in a low tone. Nearly whispering, he shook his head. "Though, he was vehemently against the idea."
  "Hmm. You mentioned brothers?"
  "Yes." He chuckled fondly. "He told me stories as a child. He told me I had legions of brothers. Whether it was literal or figurative, I don't know. But we all bear the same emblem, the same mark."
  He raised his Storm Bolter to show her his emblem. It was marked over his chest, on his sword, and at the peak of his azure hood. He'd taken the mark and made it his own. He was one with his unseen legions.
  "What... were you talking about?" She asked, fearing she may be nosy. However curiosity came over her.
  "They noticed I was waiting. They asked and I told them that I wish to persue the rogue bandits hidden in the Deep South."
  The Deep South. A section of Vale lost ever since Mount Glenn had fallen. It consisted of lush forests and roaming bands of Grimm and bandits alike. Through there was a faster route to Haven, although the most dangerous. Unless someone was familiar with the unmapped lands, then death was almost guaranteed.
  "They advised caution, I disagreed." In the distant they heard an approaching Bullhead; the sound pulled Y/N's attention more than Blake's.
  "You know your way around there, right?" She asked, her voice thick with worry.
  "Of course." He barked a small laugh. "Who would I be if I didn't know?"
  "I hope you're right." She said with a deep sigh. "It's not like I can stop you..."
  Y/N could feel her aura change. If he could hold it in his hand he would say it was covered in thorns.
  He held his hand out, his palm facing up in a relaxed offering and asking. Her ears shot up, her heart jumped, and she immediately recoiled.
  "What if you get hurt?!" She exclaimed. "I—I couldn't take that responsibility!"
  "Then I won't go." He said, leaving little room for change as his hand closed. "You're right. I won't put that burden on you."
The Bullhead faded into obscurity and Blake noticed. It almost felt wrong to deprive him of his work; of his idea of fun.
"What brings you here?" He asked, turning her way and sheathing his sword.
The idea of the mysterious visitor hadn't left her mind, but there was simply nothing Y/N could tell her. Their short conversation summarized everything he knew of them.
She took a moment to sift through her thoughts; organize them. The mystery of his strange ally had to be put away for now.
"Yang asked if you wanted to play a game or two." She said. His head perked up at the mere mention of her partner. He held an unknown expression but his body language showed her he was very welcome to the idea.
"I hadn't..." He paused when he pulled his scroll free and opened it. He hummed when the screen was black. The battery was dead. "Right. Hmph. After you."
He gestured to the path ahead, earning a smile. They walked and listened to the cold gusts of wind for a moment, content with the silence between them. Eventually however, Blake had to ask.
"Whas it them that gave you your helmet?"
"Partly." He nodded. "I'm not entirely sure if they're skilled with anything at all. Their social skills are certainly lacking."
"Partly?"
"You recognize her?" He asked, pointing at his toothy grin and wide-eyed stare. "It's the beast I felled. The one I offered as tribute to your father."
"How could I not?" She said. Although it was dead and long gone, she could still imagine the open maw and lifeless eyes. Most thought that's what it looked like in life.
"Yes. They'd taken it and gave me this." Being alone, he removed his helmet, allowing her to hold it and investigate the inside. "My weapons and armor as well. They called them boons, rewards. Badges of honor and blessing, I suppose."
He went on to share his great triumph and the late night they had visited. They guided him and rewarded him with his success. His latest boon was his open robe marked in silver details over a thick, luxurious fabric.
He was certainly meant for greater things. She realized that now. He excelled at battle; it was his home and the closest thing he had to connecting with his father. There was little in the way of him waging war or reveling in the glory of victory. Save for her however.