❛power isn't everything. it's the only thing.❜
[complete]
wattys 2018 winner ❧
Lin is a hunter, one of the magically enhanced witch slayers that roam a flooded world. Under the laws of four Kings and Greymark, who rules them all, Lin is unto...
"What chance combination of shadow and sound and his own thoughts had created it?"
―Patricia Highsmith
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*tw for child abuse
Hadrian allowed himself a half-second to panic. It was all he could spare. He breathed hard through his teeth, shoulders heaving when he leaned against the wall. The hunter was dead, then. Alekhine was dead. Where did that leave—no. If his mother was dead, Hadrian would feel it.
The pain would have been staggering, he would have felt it through the lines of magic no matter where he was.
Lin had been covered in blood, all Hadrian could tell was Lara, Denise, Valerie. Valerie was most recent, the red still clinging to Lin's hair and skin. He hadn't known Valerie very well, but he remembered her dark hair and loose grip on magic. It had been too long to tell if his mother's blood was among them. He listened desperately for Honora, finding nothing.
His mother was alive. The hunter was dead. Until he had evidence to the contrary, that was the end of the matter. He still had his orders. The mission still stood.
He rocked his head against the wall, flexing his jaw. The near-silent footsteps of another hunter—Pierce—forced him to pull upright. The stolen book felt like a lead weight, held tight to his torso by his binder and belt.
Hadrian cleared his throat and folded his arms across his stomach, walking slowly towards Pierce. The older hunter looked him up and down, concern radiating from him. Hadrian didn't even have to catch eyes with the man to know what he was thinking.
"Are you alright? I know Lin can be a little intense, but she really can't help it. She's been through a lot." Pierce paused, crouching to meet Hadrian's eyes. His voice seemed steady, but Hadrian's practiced ear caught on an uncertain tremor. "She means well."
"I know. Thank you, anyway." Hadrian twitched his lips upwards, giving Pierce a look-over. He wasn't actually that old, perhaps in his mid-thirties. But that meant nothing, his chiseled features skewed Hadrian's estimation towards younger, and the sigils edged older. He didn't smell like blood. "She seems nice, actually."
Pierce gave a little puff of laughter, bafflement shining. "That's a first."
Hadrian rocked back on his heels, trying to hide the pride blooming in his chest. Pierce was snared already, probably before they even spoke. "Why?"
"Well, Lin's an unpleasant sort on the best of days. Worse every day since Alekhine," Pierce said. "She'd sell her own mother for a laugh."
That seemed uncalled for. Hadrian needed to weigh his options quickly, especially if there was as much a divide between the hunters as he suspected.
"What did happen with Alekhine? I thought hunters were immortal," Hadrian said. He folded his hands behind his back and widened his eyes for good measure. "Like Lord Greymark."
