Chapter 36: Assailants

She knew of a world full of violence. It was high above her, as far as she knew. Coriel had once went by another name... Amaris. She had been born amidst the flowing sands underneath a blood-red sun, and had grown up to be a soldier, as most did, painting the sands crimson with her weapon.

And at the end of that life, she had felt nothing but grief, nothing but regret.

If she hadn't been reborn to this body in a land devoid of sun, she might have never received a chance to correct herself. She often pondered that reason, that purpose for which she was reincarnated. Was it to atone for her sins?

She didn't think it made her particularly special. She just thought it was an affirmation of the terrible life she had lived, that she would need to be revived simply to repent. Now, Coriel abhorred violence. She was prone to correcting the world's injustices at the cost of herself, not others.

That was how she had come to wear metal plates as an arm, how she now had a Spirit bound to her for the rest of her life.

The storm continued to rage above, spilling waves of water onto the soil around her. This worried Coriel. It wasn't often that the South experienced such weather, but in recent months, they had been met with severe flooding from excessive rainfall.

Just what could have changed to cause such a thing? The Blackbaast continued its movement cycles, as normal. While it was definitely different from what Coriel had been used to in her previous life, it wasn't as if it was particularly strange. It followed many similar rules in its format, of day and night cycles, and of rotations in a circular motion that influenced the seasons.

But still… this was too much.

When Coriel had abandoned her sadness for Janes, growing colder and distant, she let out a heavy sigh. She stared down at her metal arm, watching the wisps of turquoise and silver within dance about, the Spirit that made her life a possibility. What could have possibly prompted this morning's occurremce, and why were they in danger because of the deal her husband had accepted?

Was it simply because of the information that had been passed to them?

Suddenly, she heard her mother's shrill scream echo from the house, the clamor of broken dishes and furniture resounding soon after. Coriel tried to stand up quickly, slipping in the mud below, tumbling into it and becoming covered in the slick sludge. She gritted her teeth, twisting around as she peered through a cracked in the wooden paneling of the house.

Coriel saw her mother's bloodied face, crimson dripping down from her forehead past her mouth, held by three tall figures as they shouted down to her, then at each other. The storm nearly drowned them out, but she was able to catch distinct points of their clamoring. And it brought her to one solid realisation.

Those are the men, the ones that attacked Janes!

"It's just the one woman, take her!" One man shouted, grimacing.

"We aren't going to kill her?"

The older-looking of all three men snarled, his one injured eye glancing over in Coriel's general direction, seemingly disturbed. It looked as if he were staring directly at Coriel.

"No… she's no fun dead."

Coriel's mind raced as the men began dragging her mother out of their home. It was positioned on the hillside, and for minutes in every direction, there was only fields. This was the edge of the village of Selsch, she couldn't simply get help. She might lose them if she did that!

But she couldn't simply fight those three men…

They began to make their way through the storm, the tall grass obscuring them from her view as she rounded the corner of the house. The door had been left wide open, allowing Coriel to slip inside. All the furniture had been knocked aside, their dining table smashed to pieces. Of particular note was the shelf Coriel had been trying to reach the top shelf of, for all the items within had fallen to the floor.

Coriel grabbed the pruners from the floor, which had snapped into two parts, fashioning a simple short-bladed weapon.

F-ck! F-ck! Why!? Sedition is criminal, but it isn't murder! What was the point of killing Janes and Elien!? Why are they coming after us now!?

She gritted her teeth, running out of her home as she scanned the waving grass ahead. There was a distinct section that had been downtrodden in a straight line, leading from where she had seen the men run.

Coriel sucked in a deep breath, focusing her mind as she sprinted in their direction, flipping the knife backwards in her hand in preparation. The people of the Blackbaast were in a sort of medieval stasis, they had not yet adapted gunpowder-based weaponry.

That meant it would be an even fight, at least in terms of weaponry. Although, half-a-shear was paltry in comparison to a sword. But this was all Coriel needed.

Footsteps that were quickly disappearing in the mud led deep into the forest ahead. North of Selsch was when the trees began to sprout from the ground, leading towards a sprawling and vast surface of greenery, the largest within the Blackbaast. While flora grew sparser the farther North one went, the central to southern regions of the Blackbaast were rife with forests.

This was also a region where criminals loved to act. The trees were well-enough cover to obscure their actions.

But now, they were concealing the people who had stolen away Coriel's mother.

She would burn down every tree to hunt them down.

The light of the crystals high above had been blotted out by the dark clouds, but Coriel had grown used to the forests around her home, it had been all she had known for nearly the last two decades.

Her huffs, surpressed, exacerbated her fatigued state. Her weariness of the previous events of the morning overwhelmed her. If only her father hadn't departed for thd capital so suddenly. If only her father had remained, he might have fought off the attackers...

No, if only Coriel had summoned the strength to do so, instead of telling herself that hiding had been the best solution...

She figured that she had no chance against three grown men, were she to face them head-on. But if she maintained the element of surprise, her chances of saving her mother and ensuring their survival skyrocketed.

But this was all depending on what she had heard them say- that the men were intent on 'using' her mother instead of killing her. For the time-being, she would remain alive.

Coriel bit her lip. How terrified had her poor mother been? Left all alone with brutish men handling her do roughly, so painfully...

Perhaps she should have faced them head-on after all.

She shook her head. There was no time to think about such things now. There was the crackling of flames in the forest, the thick scent of smoke wafting past her nostrils. Lights danced, distant silhouettes painting trees a dark black hue, figures settling amidst the fire in the center of the grove.

This was the camp of the men!

They chuckled and conversed, more than three in number. She couldn't immediately ascertain the extent of their group, but it was clear that the three that had been sent to their home were clearly only a splinter of the larger group.

They might not even have been the same men that attacked Janes.

Each step of her's felt like she was wearing boots made of solid steel. Her hands shook, and her breathing became staggered. Her whole body felt cold, and her heart felt as if it was being strangled, sweat beading on her forehead as she crouched in the darkness, watching the men converse within the camp.

She had tracked them down, it was certain her mother was nearby... but what was this apprehension?

As soon as she saw the figures in front of her, her heart faltered. The blade felt heavy in her hand, and her gaze shook. She realised the fault in her ways, the one thing she had forgotten to account for.

I can't… hurt them, can I?

Coriel stared down at her metal implement, her eyes glimmering with a mixture of fear and apprehension. Slowly, that arm became replaced with one of flesh, covered in blood and dirt. She could hear the echoing screams around her, sounds of gunfire and explosions that shook the world below, sending plumes of dust and brimstone flying through the air.

She remembered when the sky was made of crimson mist, and breathing was the promise of gunpowder filling her lungs.

Because every time I recall this life, I can't bear these wounds on my soul…

She let out a sharp sigh, tucking the blade underneath her skirt before raising her prosthesis.

I'll save mother without doing such things.

I won't ever do such things.

I am Coriel, and Coriel is no soldier.