❛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...
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
― Friedrich Nietzsche
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Cortez didn't think he could ever tell anyone all of what he'd done. His many sins and lies weighed heavy on his shoulders, a burden that he bore for the greater good. At least, he hoped it was the greater good.
Julian had recovered from the shooting and made to go after him but Cortez waved him off. He vaulted to the rocky shore alone. The docks were rotten and mostly submerged, as they were the last time he'd come. He shuddered as he looked up at the white stone buildings crowning the Everest chain.
Somehow, it always came back to this wretched place. Even when the world was flipped upside down.
The wind ripped at his clothes with a vengeance, pushing against him as he climbed the smooth steps. It howled through the empty towers and streets, almost mirroring the screams of its people dying.
The sound only served to remind him that this was just another string of calamities.
Worse had happened before.
Probably.
Cortez came to a stop at the edge of a cliff. The sea roiled dark below him, boiling among jagged rocks several meters away. He shoved his fists deep in his pockets and looked around.
Wet footprints marred the otherwise untouched cobblestones. They still glistened wet, leading up directly from the cliff as though someone had climbed it. Someone had climbed it. Cortez allowed himself a small smirk as he followed the tracks deeper into the city.
He stepped between two buildings, and the harsh lack of wind made his ears ache. He flexed his jaw and lifted a hand to rub at it.
"You're alive."
He whirled on his heel. He didn't have any weapons on him, but he didn't expect to need them.
A young woman with long red hair sat on a stoop. Her white dress was damp and translucent, sticking to her pale legs. She pushed her hair over to one shoulder and propped her hand up on her chin to watch him.
"Ilse," Cortez said. He looked her over, frowning at the lack of gemstones. "The hunters will know you're here."
She shrugged, her freckled shoulder looking whiter than her clothes. Something was wrong. Her eyes slid listlessly away from him. "You went to the Citadel, didn't you?"
