A New Commander (Zeal)

"Zeal, orders from the Division commander have arrived," Bellemy reported.

I'm your legion commander now, Bell. He pointed to his new white coat hung beside a broken doorframe, its shoulders now studded with meaningless ornaments and a familiar black phoenix boldly printed on its back.

"You still the same person I've known my whole life," Bellemy said.

Zeal sat, dust settling on the garrison floor. He held a clean cloth over his nose.

Where is the fool sending us now?

"A village near the Ash Lands, there have been reports of missing villagers in the area."

Zeal scoffed at another waste of time assignment meant to keep him at arm's length. Cleaning up the Corps Battalion's messes would not quell his need for retribution; his ghost in the night would see to that.

Where are the others? he asked.

"Still on assignment," - Bellemy checked his notes - "Tilly should be back before sunrise."

"Sunrise?" Zeal thought. An interesting choice of words for a Nyx, from a village in the Dark Lands - true to its name - where the sun does not rise. But if Mortill (Tilly) should be back by morning, he would have her meet them at the village the division fool had assigned. Besides, Tilly had a bad habit of playing with her prey.

"Did he say anything," Bellemy asked?

I wouldn't believe him if he did, Zeal said, lifting the man's head from beneath him as he held the clean cloth still covering his nose.

He had been sent to liberate a riverside village on the western border of the Dark Lands, infested with enemy forces, another one of his waste of time assignments.

Bellemy took Zeal's coat in hand, still untouched by debris. "When do we leave?"

Tonight, Zeal said.

He could not stand the metallic stench of blood which painted the floor scarlet where more than 100 enemy men lay.

Send a raven for Tilly, Zeal commanded. As they set off on horseback and carriage, lanterns and torch fires illuminated the way.

Travelling with smaller companies suited him best, with his legion divided for his Centurions to command. He could, at least, have eyes and ears in corners and cracks, but the fire that raged was much too hot to bear.

He had to move freely, unencumbered by chains of Nyx regimes.

He felt to cage a starving animal only served to bread a beast.

Zeal thought as he dozed for the night.

"Zeal, wake up..." Bellemy said after kicking him in the shin. "The village is just beyond the tree line."

Ouch, I hope you find death to be good company. Zeal said with his hand dangerously close to a luxurious white porcelain box with twin phoenixes - black & gold, the same colour as his dual pistols inside - beautifully stained on top.

Bellemy ignoring his idle threats, "We should start by check--"

Have the men set up camp here - Zeal got out of the carriage - you and I will go in alone, he said as he took the reins of one of the black steeds and rode toward the village by himself.

"...I will catch up! " Bellemy shouted. He definitely sounded annoyed.

Zeal studied the village ahead; it was as small as any other, Ash Land mountains in the distance and forests all around. Should they be attacked, there would be no cover.

Who speaks for the village! He asked as he entered, still on horseback.

A woman about his age stepped forward, holding a little girl's hand. She must have been 18, no, maybe 20 at most. Was the girl her daughter? Zeal thought. She seemed much too young to speak for the village, though he was not surprised.

"Have you come about the missing villagers," she asked.

Zeal dismounted a fine-bred horse with a black shine on its mane; compared to the villagers, it was highly maintained.

How, How many have gone missing?

He had been distracted by the little girl's doodles drawn in the sand, odd behaviour for one who stood so close to a Nyx soldier. She seemed old enough to know the reverence or disdain with which most people treated them.

"Two months ago, my husband was the first; many more around these parts have disappeared since."

He heard the rustle of people as they shouted hidden in the crowds, "It was your Voidlings that took them! "A Touched killed a woman--"

"Hush now, " she said.

Zeal stood unfazed by the chatter and shouting; more curious was why this child had dared to hold his hand in the midst of condemning eyes. Was she hard of hearing? or was she simply naïve?

Bellemy approached his side on horseback, his men well hidden within the dense woods.

"You must be Annabelle; my name is Bellemy Mason, a communications officer with the Black Phoenix Legion."- he gripped Zeal's shoulder - "This is our Legion Commander Zeal nu Zabek --"

Enough pleasantries, take some men, check for signs of stray voidlings in the area, Zeal commanded. He loathed cleaning a Corps Battalion mess, fools who lacked the strength to tame their pets, pitiful.

..and Bell, If the Touched are out there, - He put a clean cloth over his nose - erase them.

"Naturally! "

The dust Bellemy's horse kicked up - covered the girl's doodles drawn in the sand - as it galloped away.

She seemed to feel not one ounce of rage.

What is your name, child?

"She does not speak; Her name is Amelia," said Annabelle.

Few had rarely caught his attention; Amelia was different somehow. Though he could not quite place it, something about her felt familiar. His waste of time assignment seemed more difficult this time; dispatching the enemy quickly played more to his strengths.

"Though it seems the Touched from this village have yet to return, they may survive yet, " Zeal thought.

"Would you like to come to my home?" Annabelle asked.

Zeal accepted the invitation as he could tell she felt embarrassed amidst the crowd, another odd behaviour. He wondered if it ran in their blood; perhaps the scarlet they would paint smelled more like fresh roses.

The hut was cosy and warm, much smaller than he'd been used to but comfortable nonetheless; a small fire burned near where the food had gone cold. Amelia offered him some dry fruit cupped in both hands as he placed his white coat on the floor where he sat.

"Please forgive my people; I must confess many disapproved of my letters to Nyx, though I could not stand idly by as more people vanish."

Annabelle, is it? The chatter of insects means nothing to me.

"I see... forgive me for speaking out of turn, commander, as weak as I am."

Zeal noticed her long white hair lit by the embers of the small fire that burned as bright as the mightiest of flames. Her head lowered, her body stiff; she seemed so fragile a breeze could break her.

You not weak, he said.

She stumbled on some small rocks neatly stacked, performing an awkward dance. "My apologies," she said.

Amelia laughed at least a little. When Zeal noticed - her tiny hands covered her face - a single eye stole a glance between her fingers.

Sit - Zeal said to Annabelle.

He did not command. This was a simple plea.

"There are rumours of the Touched in a village further west; forgive my brashness, commander; I only fear they may reach us here," she said as she held Amelia close.

You said your husband was one of the missing?

Annabelle tensed as she answered his question.

She told him many things. The first that she had recently wed, Amelia was his child. Her birth mother had passed away just days after her birth, but the blood did not matter because Amelia was hers and would forever be her child.

Amelia seemingly sank into her mother's lap and fell asleep.

Do you know what the touched are? Zeal asked.

She brushed Amelia's hair and said, "Creatures that stalk and torment their prey, eventually dragging them away into the dead of night."

How naïve, you know nothing, he said.

"I only hear rumours - as do well all - no one has seen a Touched in honest, but as of late, I sense a disturbance in the air," she said.

Zeal snapped his head toward her, is your blood of Nyx? the power you describe only my mother could harness.

"I know not my true home; I have lived in this village all my life," Annabelle said.

Zeal approached her, taking off a single black glove. His hand collected the deep void - the magic of Nyx - scales as armour appearing on his arm.

- He raised his hand to her chest - Her body trembled.

His fingers manifested claws, a stained dark orange, his hand black as night. A single scratch on her neck gently down to her chest. Her blood smelled like home; she was undoubtedly Nyx.

"Would you find it in your heart to spare Amelia? She has done no wrong," she said, with Amelia still asleep on her lap.

Zeal wiped a tear from Annabelle's eye - she flinched her eyes closed.

Zeal said.

Humans, infected by Voidlings, slowly lose their sense of self. The body naturally tries to defend itself, desperately trying to hold onto all that is dear, grasping at fleeting memories until all that is left is a lifeless shell. If that were all it was, the Touched would be nothing to fear. What makes them the stuff of nightmares is that they altogether succeeded. All a Touched has are memories of love, the bonds it shared and the kindness; it's known—a ravenous dark creature who will always come home.

That; is the true nature of the Touched. I will not hurt you or this child; you are Nyx, after all.