Origin 3: Luna, The Witch of the Night

Zubec's heart was beating with a speed and aggression like that of a drum as it went and went and went. The only thought on his mind was one thing, killing her.

He slid, swiping his blade off the ground before jumping to Luna- the flames of rage gleaming in his eyes. He closed the distance in a moment, appearing right before her. With a stroke of his blade, he aimed for her neck. Her face was calm, not a fluctuation or tremor on it in the face of his fury.

His whole body felt hot, however right as the blade would've reached her skin, he felt some of the heat slip. Specifically on his left side and his mind which had been clear on one goal, the goal of killing her had suddenly found something else to think about. Luna simply sidestepped him as he continued flying forward, falling into the snow with a plop.

He slowly raised in confusion, seeing the color of roses seeping into the snow next to him. He turned to look behind him, seeing his arm, which should've been attached to his body lying next to Luna.

She gazed at him. The look wasn't quite pity, as such an emotion had no place in her heart, but it was something in between. A blade of light was coming from the ground beside her feet, reaching up to her height. He understood now. She had activated her blessing, -Ethereal Glow- to sever his arm before he could cut her.

The heat which still somewhat burned in his chest became like a tiny candle-flame, as his resolve had met an insurmountable wall. At that moment, many thoughts ran through his head. He closed his eyes briefly to focus on them.

He reminisced on how he had been the prized warrior of the kingdom, one who all envied and respected. The fact that he lost all of that long ago paled in comparison to his feelings for his decision, the decision to choose family over duty. In his mind, that choice had been pointless.

During the major battle against Luna, through one of her soldiers, word of Zubec's ten-year-old son being kidnapped reached him. He told the warrior where he was being held, the location being far from the battlefield. At that point in the battle, things were somewhat even so the King permitted him to leave.

Zubec had never yanked the reigns of his horse so quickly, as it dashed past enemy after enemy.

When he finally reached the location his child was held, and entered the building there wasn't a soul around. He walked down the basement, his heart racing as he took step after step. When he reached that corner, in hindsight he almost wished he hadn't looked. After he turned it, he saw it, a bloody cell. One that had his son's leg, as well as one of his eyes. It was all they had left of him, and he was all Zubec had to hold on to.

Due to his absence, Luna was easily able to overcome the King's army. Reports spoke of how she cleaved his head from his shoulders; usurping the kingdom. On that day, it was fair to say that Zubec Zofratis had died.

With nowhere to go, Zubec simply wandered. Even if he went back, and somehow managed to kill Luna, it wouldn't have changed a thing. He'd failed. Failed his King, his country, and ultimately his own family, not making it there in time.

After several months of aimless wandering, he stumbled upon a town of snow. There, he stayed, surviving off the land. He always made sure to be as far away from townspeople as possible.

They knew of his presence there, recognizing him and many would often come and throw insults his way. Some children who may have been told his history by their parents would occasionally throw snowballs at him. He never retaliated at their actions though. His eyes held no life in them, as he simply went through the motions of his new day-to-day existence.

He continued living that way for a little over a year until a young boy who was no older than 11 came to his doorstep. The boy had spoken of how he wanted to be a great warrior like him, and that he didn't mind the rumors. The rumors had called Zubec a coward.

His first response to the child was to brush him off, saying there was no need and he wouldn't learn anything worthwhile from him anyway. The young boy, John, wouldn't take no for an answer, however. He kept persisting for months and months and eventually, Zubec gave in, making him his student.

At first, he gave him menial tasks as a way of placating him. Such as tracking a certain animal for a hunt, or even setting traps. But eventually, John started asking for training in the ways of the sword. Zubec, knowing the boy's track record of persistence, gave in to that as well; teaching him the basics of the Zofratis sword style.

In all honesty, Zubec was a shell of a man- living physically but mentally and in his heart, he had died long ago. However, John slowly but surely started to change that. It was his carefree, high energy, and loving attitude, as well as his innate talent for fighting that piqued Zubec's interest. He never complained about the harsh training thrown at him.

Originally, Zubec was hoping the harsher the training he gave him, the sooner he'd leave him alone, but the opposite happened. John only became more focused and dedicated and due to that, Zubec started to find him endearing. He saw himself, as well as his son in him.

John had brought him back, back to the land of the living.

There would often be times when Zubec waited in anticipation of his arrival. He would never admit this of course, but he truly cared for John. Their four years of knowing each other, even if he was a terrible head warrior, or an even worse father, made his life worth it.

With his time of self-reflection over, he opened his eyes once more. Zubec raised his head, a faint chuckle escaping his lips,

"It's unfortunate that this is the end... Sometimes, when facing overwhelming power, you can do nothing but fall before it." A tear rolled down his face.

Luna gave him one last look, eyes filled with malice,

"Monstil, old warrior." And with one more flick of her finger, his head was lopped off by a blade of light. A crimson red spilled onto the pure white snow.

The deafening silence in the field served as a moment of silence for the life of Zubec, a man who once lost his way, picking his sword up to fight for what was the only thing, the only person, he cared about one last time.

Luna gazed down at his corpse, a blank expression on her face. She walked over to John's body, grabbing and turning his face up. A deep gash was in his stomach, and his eyes closed. Now that both individuals being out of commission was confirmed she turned, starting to walk over to Nar whose hands were trembling.

"I wanted to finish him!" They said, contempt in their voice. Luna didn't seem fazed by their angry tone as she continued her walking pace, passing Nar. With a quiet grumble, they followed behind her, frustration clearly radiating from them. The two were walking towards the town, seemingly where the gate would be in a minute or so.

Luna finally decided to speak, all the while not facing Nar.

"It wasn't your time. As a commander in training, you still aren't on the level of the others. Currently, you're a little above captain level. You'll need training for another two years at least before you can dream of facing someone like him. That wasn't the worst showing though, being your first battle against someone on your level like that."

Pain. That's all John was feeling.

The feeling wasn't just from his abdomen, he felt it all over. It was a surging pain, one that was sharp and cold. He couldn't tell if that feeling inside him was purely from Luna. It might've been all sorts of emotions coming over him as well.

The last thing he remembered was hearing everyone had been killed. And then, as he had reached out for his teacher, he saw a beam of light block his vision, seemingly piercing through him.

He thought to himself, Am I dead?

John currently only saw darkness around him. To make matters worse, wherever he was, he was unable to move his body. The most he could do was rotate his head but even then it proved pointless as the same darkness ceased to show signs of changing.

I can't die! Not like this! Especially after everything she said... Did she really kill everyone!? Including Mother? Or May? Even the children!? I can't let her just get away with it! I have to wake up and help teacher!

As his thoughts continued to ramp up, he felt the pain in his body started to lessen. His determination was fueling him.

The thoughts of vengeance, the thoughts of what was there in the land of the living, all of it culminated through his will. Suddenly, he felt his eyes close, but then, they soon opened. Instead of the sight of pure darkness now he saw a grayed-out sky.

Now, with all his might he pushed, attempting to lift himself off the snow-covered ground. John grunted heavily as he pushed. He felt no strength in his limbs, yet he persisted. He pushed, and pushed, and pushed, and pushed, and pushed. With one last burst of effort, he was able to raise himself up.

His eyesight was blurry slightly from being planted in the snow but even still he instantly noticed it. His teacher was beside him, his hand resting on top of his own. John had a relieved smile,

"Teacher." John's voice was full of relief. The sight wasn't expected; based on what happened before he'd have thought the first thing he'd see would be horrid.

However, as his eyes started to focus further, he saw things for what they truly were. His teacher's hand wasn't over his for reassurance. It was there as a final action, as he was lying with his corpse.

Zubec's eyes were wide open but there was no sign of life in them. T-teacher? At that moment, everything felt still.

It was like the snow-covered breeze, the birds flying above in the sky, and everything else was frozen. The field was silent, the only noise coming from John slowly moving in the snow.

Zubec's hand was cold over his, lacking all the warmth it no doubt previously held.

His head lay several feet away. But John could see his expression clearly, as his head was facing him. A tear was plastered on his face. It appeared to have only reached down to his cheek before freezing. His eyes held a deep sadness in them, one reflecting all the regret he held, believing his student to be dead.

John found himself unable to look away from those deeply sorrowful eyes.

He sat there in the snow, in complete silence as he stared at him.

After his brain had finally caught up to what he was seeing, he released a blood-curdling scream into the air. It cut through the sky like a knife. Almost being like a requiem, but not one to honor the dead's memory, it was one of pure grief and agony.

The boy, known as John Selvic, had lost everything.