Jack & Kane

Jack fidgeted in his shirt as he strode through the forest of oak several feet behind Kane. He hated the way it felt against his skin but kept his thoughts to himself: though Kane could tell the warrior was in discomfort by the sound of his fidgeting. And Kane didn't care. Not because he didn't like Jack, he didn't dislike him either, but because he knew discomfort was the last of their concerns on The Highway. 

"You puzzle me, Jack," said Kane, as he guided his new ally through the wood. 

"I awoke on a beach in nothing but a loincloth, Kane. I didn't even remember how to speak. Or how to think coherent thoughts. I was stabbed in the heart by a woman woven out of leaves. I came back from the dead and was attacked by monsters made from bark. Then I was killed again by a giant fucking tree. And when I bested the son of a bitch, I met you. Blessing boy and his itchy trigger fingers." 

"...Point taken..." Kane smirked, and Jack could have sworn he saw it, despite walking behind him. "I've not heard of the leaf-woven woman you speak of. It may be connected with your loss of memories. Since the gods told me about the rules of The Highway, you probably needed a different teacher." Jack was silent for several moments while he followed before finally responding, albeit with a softer, reflective tone: his voice still deep as oceans. 

"I still feel her compulsion. It wills me to find these... 'bearers of essence'. I feel as if her will is my own." 

"I'm glad we're having this talk," said Kane, with fake sincerity, "but I need you to open that." He stopped and gestured toward an unholy distortion ahead of them. It was a metre off the ground and another metre tall, criss-crossing fragmented shards of broken glass that seemed to phase in and out of focus, and sometimes existence itself: distorting the tree behind it. 

Jack continued walking until he, too, reached the rift. With utmost carefulness, he rose a hand but stopped halfway and looked back over his shoulder: the motion was more of a habit. His body was used to the movement, as if it was something he did often when he was alive. Really alive, that is. 

"Why couldn't you kill the Emberwood? You seem agile and well equipped enough to deal with it." 

Kane bore through the back of Jack's skull with his emerald gaze. "My arrows pierce. They do not slice. The weak, decaying spots of the Emberwood requires a strong arm and an even stronger blade to cut through them. For you, it must have seemed like butter." 

"And what of your magic?" asked Jack. 

"The spectral arrows?" Kane rolled his shoulder and removed a thin quiver from his back. It was made of the same wood as his weapon, and flying crows were burnt into it as decoration, just like the bow. "The bow and quiver were mine before my real death. I had fifteen arrows when the gods sent me on my way: after my many questions, of course. My first bearer of essence was an undead mage. An easy target for an archer. He took all fifteen arrows in my quiver. Sturdy bastard. Looked like a porcupine when I was done with him." 

Jack smiled and chuckled deeply as he continued peering over his shoulder, and so did Kane. The moment was pure and innocent. They weren't friends by any stretch of the term. But they weren't trying to kill each other either. 

"I was rewarded with a single arrow in return. And now one always appears back in my quiver when I reach for it. When I was young, and truly alive, I was schooled in basic marksman magic, by drawing out some of my own life-force, I can fire several spectral arrows alongside the real one. It is not a skill I can use consecutively." 

"Are we rewarded for every bearer of essence we slay?" 

"I was only rewarded by slaying the first." 

Jack reached into the satchel attached to his breeches and pulled out the glowing gem. "I believe this was my reward. Though I am unsure of how I use it. It healed me after I took down the Emberwood. Perhaps I will figure it out beyond the rift... How do I give you my blessing?" 

"Take hold of my hand," said Kane, and he held it out to his ally. "There's no set phrase. Just say what comes to mind." 

Jack took Kane's hand with a light slap and thought for a moment before deciding what to say... 

"I accept you. My path to hell is now ours." And with that, he outstretched his other hand to touch the fragmented rift.