The Coming From the Shadows Series
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C.F.T.S
The Imperium Chronicles:
A Daughter’s Vengeful Anger
Introduction
The chill seeped into Cathryn Langdon’s bones; the late April of 1910 had begun with a desperate fight, a breathless dance against an ambush during what should have been a safe exploration in search of a mysterious site discovered in the Spine of England; the Pennine Mountain range – exploring a deep mine, Cathryn along with her adopted daughter; Norina was forced to separate, while Norina would escape the Cultists, Cathryn’s fight would end differently.
She had fallen down a steep drop – now, on the cold, narrow ledge inside of the mineshaft with death yawning inches away; her 38-Year-old body was once again a familiar vessel of pain, but this was a new kind of broken.
Inches away, her Kukri Knife had landed, if it had been a little more to the left, Cathryn would not have been waking at all – its blade gleamed faintly in the near-total darkness, stabbed into the damp earth, it was now a grim sentinel while further up, a bag dangled precariously from the higher ledge.
A low groan escaped her lip – a sound of protest against the suffocating unconsciousness; her eyes fluttered, it was a massive effort in itself, slowly, she tried to move – to sit up, but her limbs refused to move; heavy and unresponsive.
A searing pain jolted through her skull making her gasp – when her Silvery-Grey eyes finally opened, the gloomy darkness was a crushing weight; she pushed with a pained grunt escaping her throat, she tried to get herself upright, a wet patch on the side of her face and trailing from the back of her head was sticky and warm drew her attention – her trembling fingers reached to find the source; Blood; thick and viscous, matting her Long Raven-Dark Hair.
A sickening realisation dawned on her; not just the injury, but how perilously close she was to a ledge that seemed to go deeper into the abyss. .
Chapter 1:
Away from the silent agony of the mineshaft within the rolling English hills a cloak of darkness had begun to descend – outside the caves entrance, the air hung thick with damp earth and an acrid iron taste; Lydia the younger twin daughter of Cathryn, a physical copy of her mother; sharing the same Long Raven-Dark hair and Silvery-Grey eyes knelt over a slumped figure, her face unreadable with a familiar dangerous calm.
The slumped figure below her; a Cultist of the Cult of the Minotaur – he writhed, a gurgling sound escaping his lips, he felt her grip tighten around the collar of his shirt; but the more pressing concern was the wickedly sharp knife she had pressed to his throat.
Lydia’s positioning, leaning downwards causes her hair to fall forwards, partially obscuring her eyes, that dangerous glint “Where is she” she questioned, her voice was low; a dangerous whisper devoid of emotion “My mother; where is she?”
The Cultist coughed – a desperate rattle as he stared up at her “She…, fell to her death, the shaft”
The words hung in the air; a grotesque echo that Lydia had feared; while he only meant to imply an accident, his phrasing ‘She Fell to her Death’ sparked Lydia – her eyes, already intense, flared with a chilling palpable anger; the calmness shattered and was replaced with a cold fury the made the air around them seem to vibrate.
Her hand, steady as stone pulled back – the Cultist’s eyes widened with a realisation and then terror.
She gave him no time to react; to scream – she simply plunged the knife downwards with a swift, precise motion, but she didn’t plunge it straight, but on an angle, sinking it deep into the thorax; a choked gasp, a desperate twitch – the silence followed.
She pulled her hand backwards as she released her grip on the man’s collar letting the body fall limply with a light ‘thud’ – Lydia slowly rose upwards and wiped the blade against the sleeve of her jacket before returning it beside several other identical small knives – clearly used for throwing, that where hidden beneath the confines of her jacket, as she released her jacket, her shoulder-strapped bag fell back in place against her hip, tied to it was her prized Jian Sword – a gift from her Mentor, an enigmatic figure simply known as ‘The Monk’.
Lydia’s gaze then shifted towards the gaping maw of the cave – her eyes narrowed as she began to walk, a predator scenting prey.
“Lydia!”
The shout ripped out through the serene evening laced with a familiar exasperation; Lydia didn’t stop, she recognised the voice, and her anger only intensified as she kept marching forwards; it forced the new arrival to run in front of Lydia, holding her hand out to stop her – her Older twin sister; Elizabeth, the once ‘Loyal Daughter’ to their Cultist father; George Smythe, she was like a female version of him; sharing Long Dark-Blonde Hair and Icy-Blue eyes; Lydia’s polar opposite.
It wasn’t just physical differences though; unlike Lydia who followed their mothers moral compass, often forcing herself to hide emotion and kindness behind a steely façade – Elizabeth had adopted their fathers cruelty, his sadistic nature, and despite only in the last 2-Years having broken her loyalties to join with Lydia and their mother; Cathryn – Elizabeth still struggled to put her Cultist approach behind her.
Elizabeth’s eyes fixed onto the scene of the fresh execution – then towards the figure approaching; Thomas Davidson, a man in his mid-twenties, older than the twins by just six years, his expression was a mix of concern and resignation as he approached “What in god’s name are you doing?” Elizabeth snapped; her eyes narrowed and fixed onto her sisters “We had a plan”
Lydia shifted her gaze down momentarily having been forced to stop her advance when Elizabeth had physically gotten in her way; with Elizabeth’s arm outstretched and close towards her almost touching her, Lydia made a quick movement, grabbing her wrist and twisting sharply as she positioned her right leg behind Elizabeth effectively throwing her to the ground “I’m finding our mother” her voice was sharper, her composure fading as she looked down at Elizabeth with a dark expression
Elizabeth, not expecting the sudden movement or action; felt herself hit the ground with a thud – she may have been around Lydia for two-years since joining the Anti-Imperium movement, but she was still shocked by the change in Lydia from their childhood – Lydia, who had once been so timid, who struggled in their Cultist upbringing, would so often suffer chronic nightmares or scream into the night due to the extreme education they would go through including forced observation of animal torture and killings – that was the Lydia Elizabeth still remembered most – the woman she had become; essentially a human weapon was not something she was use too, and recognised the difference in physical skill between them.
“We need to regroup!” Elizabeth argued, trying to fall back onto her more diplomatic approach “There are more of them, and we do not know what is even in there; rushing in blind is a bad idea!”
Her words; as logical as they might be, only served to flare Lydia’s anger further – the very thought of their mother possibly injured or worse was enough to push Lydia; she simply continued walking forwards.
As she approached the entrance – Norina, her adopted sister emerged – her twin-like resemblance to Lydia was uncanny, and despite not being related, Norina was often seen as Lydia’s actual twin than Elizabeth when encountering people – though, unlike Lydia, Norina was often the most vulnerable, being younger that Lydia and Elizabeth – she was certainly not a fighter, but did possess skills in medical and map-reading and often applied these skills eagerly to play a role in Cathryn’s group.
Chapter 2:
Lydia’s eyes fixed onto Norina and stopped in front of her, her eyes drifting to the cave Norina just came from; Norina, in her terrified state reverted to her native language of Italian, speaking rapidly as she gestured back behind her – Lydia took in each word carefully before simply giving a nod.
Thomas; knowing that Lydia would not be likely to listen to anything Elizabeth said, but also sensed a potentially dangerous escalation between the sisters “If Cathryn is in there still…, we should go and find her” Thomas suggested as he looked towards Elizabeth, watching as she go up to her feet – he recognised Lydia’s fierce loyalty to Cathryn
Elizabeth though shook her head as she cleaned herself down quickly before shooting Thomas a withering look “Don’t get involved; Your infatuation with my sister clouds your judgement Davidson” her tone was cutting, dismissive
Lydia didn’t visibly acknowledge the jab, though the mention of it did cause a flicker of confusion, something that clicked into her mind – something she didn’t quite grasp – but it matched with the more recent strangeness she had been feeling when she spent time with Thomas, she couldn’t process that thought though, she had to remained focused on finding her mother – she continued to march forwards, disappearing into shadowy depths without another word; Thomas, shifting his gaze a moment to Elizabeth then set after Lydia, he had first encountered Lydia in 1907 in the Himalayan mountains – while their initial encounters saw Lydia distrusting Thomas, he had since managed to work a trust between them, he had after all saved in in Egypt in early 1908 when he had intervened to save her from her own sister Elizabeth – Elizabeth at the time had corned Lydia in the streets of Cairo, with Lydia having made attempts to flee by moving towards rooftops in her escape; only to end up in a vulnerable position with Cultists under Elizabeth’s command waiting below in the streets where one Cultist; Bartholomew would shoot at her.
Then there would be his rescue of Lydia in Burma in early 1909 – an event triggered due to Lydia capture during the Anti-Imperium Hunter’s attempts to flee from a failed mission in Australia – their passage being intercepted by Cultists operating in Siam under the initial leadership of British Cultist Leaders and brothers; Bartholomew and Jack whose Cultist ties linked them directly to Elizabeth and Lydia’s father; George Smythe – the event initially only localised to Siam until the arrival of a Cultist named Albert that had an agreement with George to enforce Lydia into marriage.
The trip would see Lydia under his watchful gaze transported across the Siamese-Border into Burma where a Betrayal by rival Cultist group within the Imperium tried to take Lydia – Lydia during that scuffle though would find herself receiving not just a fall from a ledge into a raging river, but the initial cause would come from a bullet fired at her grazing her hip and resulting in that fall; as Lydia broke into desperation, a British regiment that Thomas was present with overheard Lydia’s cries of desperation leading them to intervene – Thomas, recognising Lydia immediately ignored orders to plunge into the dangerous torrent of icy water to prevent Lydia from drowning, using physical strength to force her to the surface where she found herself needing to put her arms, despite being restrained around Thomas’ neck to support herself against him.
The second rescue would follow immediately after Lydia was pulled to safety, Albert seeking to reclaim her would demand Thomas hand her over, leading to a violent confrontation between Thomas and Albert that Albert would lose, securing Lydia’s safety.
He knew that this particular steel that entered Lydia’s resolve would not budge – the better choice was to ensure she had someone present as back-up; as Thomas disappeared after Lydia, Norina scurried after them too.
Inside the belly of the earth; Cathryn’s world was a hazy, painful blur – the throbbing in her head was relentless, a cruel percussion that accompanied every strained breath; she pushed against the cold rock trying to gain purchase, to find her feet – the ledge just felt impossibly narrow, slippery with dampness.
She swayed, her balance shot, and her vision swam; for a terrifying second, she nearly went over the edge again, a strangled cry catching in her throat as she flailed, her fingers scrambling for purchase.
With a desperate surge of adrenaline; she managed to straighten; her back now pressed against the rough wall, her gaze instinctively lift upwards towards the higher ledge where her bag was dangling – it was like a beacon of hope she could barely make out but a reminder of the precarious hight; She had to climb to escape – there was no other option.
She reached; her fingers finding a small crevice, then another; she pulled herself, muscles screamed in protest; her injured head throbbed – one foot would find purchase, but the other slipped, a grunt of effort turned into a gasp of despair as her hold gave way, her body went crashing back against the ground, knocking the wind from her lungs, it took the last of her strength simply to roll onto her side, her body simply refused to do anything further – the bitter taste of defeat filled her moth.
Unable to think or move, Cathryn just laid still but something caught her attention out of the periphery.
A shadow; darker than the surrounding gloom had detached itself from the higher ledge – after a moment of staring, it became clear she was looking up towards a face; a Cultist peered down towards her, a cruel smirk twisting his lips – he had heard her fall and now, he began to climb down, his descent was slow, deliberate and terrifying.
Alarm shot through Cathryn – raw and primal, she wanted to scream, to push herself away, to fight; but her body, battered and exhausted refused to obey, being utterly unable to move no matter how much she wanted too, she could only lay their focusing on shallow, painful breaths.
As the Cultist reached Cathryn – dropping with a light thud to the mine floor, he came closer and knelt down, he was like a grotesque shadow looming over her prone form; his hand, heavy and calloused clamped around her throat cutting off her ragged breaths – his dark eyes glinted with a malicious pleasure, a triumphant, dark grin stretching his lips “Look at this; the ‘Great Huntress’…” he sneered, his voice a low rasp “You’ve been brought so low; I shall put an end to you once and for all, a true shame George is not here to witness or even do it himself, I hear he has been trying to reclaim you for a long time”
As his grip tightened, pressing the air from her lungs; a distant sound echoed through the mine shaft – a faint, chilling clang, it caused him to hesitate, to look up into the darkness.
Chapter 3:
Lydia moved through the cave-system like a phantom, her senses heightened; every shadow a potential threat, every distant sound a clue – as the air grew colder, damper; a stale stench of blood and something else, something cloyingly sweet and putrid grew stronger – she spotted them; two Cultists, one slumped against a rock nursing a clearly injured leg, the other standing guard – his back towards her.
Without a moment’s hesitation. Lydia drew the Jian Sword – the polished blade reflected the faint light from overhead stalactites; she didn’t run, didn’t sneak; she simply marched forwards, her left hand slipping inside of her jacket – the two Cultists, upon spotting her reacted quickly, their eyes widened in recognition and alarm, they knew Lydia’s reputation and knew she intended to fight them.
The first Cultist, despite his injured leg lunged forwards – though Lydia moved with a sudden movement to the left – her sword, a flash of silver swung low; sharp and clean, purposely striking the man on the back of his thigh sending him stumbling with a yelp of pain – simultaneously, with her left, she pulled something small and fragile from her pocket – an egg, which she crushed in her hand, a faint crystalline powder covering her pal, without breaking stride, she flung her and forwards, she threw the powdered-glassy content into the face of the second Cultist.
He cried out with his hands flying to his eyes as microscopic shards of finely ground glass seared his vision in both eyes – the blindness and agony though would only last a moment, as Lydia made a quick spin of her Jian Sword and made her second strike swift and brutal – she used it like a spear, the tip of the Jian Sword struck just at the base of his throat silencing his screams with a gurgle – as she pulled it back, the Cultist dropped back with a heavy thud, Lydia didn’t pause though; twisting sharply around and with a quick downward swing, she ended the first Cultist she struck by striking the back of his head – the loud thud soon followed.
Her movements had been fluid, precise and utterly ruthless – she didn’t break stride as she twisted around to continue deeper leaving the fallen men behind.
The entire action was witnessed by Thomas who had caught up, he had watched the chilling display, he had seen Lydia fight before, seen her aggression but this…, this was different, it was cold, calculated brutality, a controlled savagery that made him feel a sense of unease.
“Lydia” he called out; his voice a mixture of awe and concern – it made her stop, turning back to look
He could see a feral intensity in her eyes and took a deep breath as he approached her “Lydia…” he spoke with a soft, gentle voice “I know your aggressive…, I have seen you fight so many times, but I haven’t seen you this aggressive before”
Lydia held his gaze for a long moment, the intensity didn’t waver “Lydia.., speak with me”
There was a pause; a silence that seemed to stretch longer than it really did – she was processing what to say, what to reveal, what would follow would be a much bigger leap in her trust than before.
“My father” she finally said, her voice flat, she purposely tried to keep her tone devoid of emotion, though Thomas could see through it “He is a Sick, Sadistic man; a year before me and Elizabeth was born, he’d forced my mother into marriage, physically hurt her, abused her; caused her to miscarry her first child in March before getting her pregnant again with us, and even after we was born, he continued” she shifted her gaze as she started to walk “Some of my earliest memories are of my Father when he tried to keep my and Elizabeth separated from her, and when it didn’t work with me, he made me watch him as he hurt her”
Thomas felt waves of anger building as he watched Lydia carefully, following her movements.
Her exterior seemed to crack a little “Some of those earliest memories are of him violating her….” She paused a moment, Thomas recognised that she didn’t want to continue; as she stopped again, she moved her hand up a moment pinching the top of her nose as she let a low growl escape her throat, her eyes narrowed as forced expression of anger, trying to divert a build-up of emotion “Sexually”
While Thomas knew her past was dark, she barely spoke of it – though, their building trust did allow for her to impart things that she would never say to anyone else, and so often, what little revelation she gave about her past, often made him realise just how difficult her childhood had been, he approached her slowly and placed his hand against her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze.
“He tried to break her; to make her give him, so she would stop being an Anti-Imperium ‘Hunter’, tried to make her a domestic-slave and tried poisoning us against her; Elizabeth did…” she shifted her gaze towards him “I won’t ever abandoned my Mum; I didn’t when I was a child, and I won’t now; I will not let anyone get in my way when it comes to protecting my mother”
Thomas slowly nodded; he absorbed the depth of her loyalty, he understood it – the source of that unwavering protectiveness, he had fought the Boer War, he understood trauma – had signed up by lying about his age just to get into the Army, and at 15 he saw combat that horrified him, and for Lydia to have had it constantly throughout her life, he could understand “Then why are we just standing here?” he asked, his voice low and gentle yet firm, he gestured “Let’s go find Cathryn; she needs us”
Lydia looked at him carefully – the shift in his tone, the shift from question to encouragement; it resonated with Lydia; the two now moving once again as Norina, who had been stood near also followed them, learning of her Adoptive mothers past had made her feel more of a desperate need to help find her.
The three would continue to move – it felt longer than it was, the air grew colder, the scent of stagnant water became sharper; then, they reached a jagged ledge that Norina recognised and quickly pointed towards it “La mamma era qui” she said quickly, Lydia gave a quick nod as she moved right to the ledge dropping down to her hands and knees to peer down – her eyes sharper than any hawk, caught sight of something glinting below – the familiar sight of her mother’s leather satchel, a small intricate compass hanging from its strap.
Lydia’s heart hammered against her chest – below, she could see a figure laying still with a second darker form knelt over; another Cultist, she didn’t need to see his face to understand his intention – she just knew her mother was in danger.
Her hand pulled her back from its limp position against her hip and pulled it around in front of her without a moment’s hesitation; pulling it open and grabbing something inside; a weapon she very rarely uses; her fingers wrapped around the grip of a revolver, and drew it; without a seconds thought, without even aiming for anything but the general vicinity of the Cultist, she pulled the trigger.
The shot cracked, echoing deafeningly in the confined space, the muzzle flash momentarily blinding – down below, the dark form slumped with a light thud and a muffled scream of pain, Lydia realised the body fell onto her mother.
Lydia shifted quickly; her loyalty overriding her sense of caution – before she could even get over the ledge, Thomas’ hand clamped gently around her arm “Wait” he said, his voice calm “Let me go; I have had training for this sort of thing, it’ll be faster…, safer”
Lydia’s gaze flickered between him and the dark abyss below; he wasn’t wrong, and although she had only minor injuries herself, they could potentially hinder her, whereas Thomas’ training was more specialized.
Chapter 4
Lydia acknowledge Thomas’ suggestion with a tight nod – her hand still gripping the revolver, they then heard someone approaching causing them to look; Elizabeth had finally joined the three of them; Thomas, shifting back to the edge again began checking the distance to the ledge below, glancing around the immediate area – his eyes returned to the two dead cultists Lydia had dispatched “Lydia” he said, his voice low and urgent “Undress them; both of them” he pointed
Lydia stared a moment, her expression breaking into confusion “What?”
“Trust me” he urged, his gaze unwavering then shifted his attention to Elizabeth “Elizabeth, find any useful materials; rope, strong cloth; anything that can be tied together” he then gestured down to Cathryn’s still form, seemingly lifeless below and then to Norina whose eyes were fixed on the scene “Norina; can you tell me how bad her injuries are from here?”
Norina approached and laid down precariously close to the ledge, squinting into the gloom; her Italian accent, usually a soft lilt became more pronounced with her worry “Difficile, signore…, way she falls…, a possible commozione cerebrale” she said “Maybe internal…”
Thomas nodded, digesting her assessment; her turned to Lydia and Elizabeth “Alright, let’s get started” as Lydia moved to undress the bodies, Elizabeth went to scour their immediate surroundings for anything useful; Thomas, giving Norina a gentle smile, moved over the edge to begin climbing down – he found handholds and footholds with a practised ease.
The twin sisters as they brought everything into a pile looked at each other with a usual tenseness between them – Lydia then took a moment to check inside her bag for anything that might be useful; but ultimately decides to use a small knife to begin tearing the clothing into strips providing a second knife to Elizabeth so she can also get started.
As Thomas reached Cathryn, he dropped down, landing lightly before turning and pulling the body off of her and pushing it aside with relative ease – kneeling down before her, her eyes fluttered open, still hazy with pain and shock “Thomas?” she mumbled, her voice groggy, barely a whisper
He gently put his hand against her forehead, feeling the sticky warmth of her blood “You’ll be alright Cathryn, we’re here” he quickly, but thoroughly examined her, assessing the extent of her injuries, a deep gash on her temple, a likely concussion and perhaps fractured rips from her fall, with reluctance, he began to move her, being careful to get her ready for the ascent.
Above, Lydia and Elizabeth worked with grim efficiency, knotting strips of cloth together, each knot tested for strength; Norina assisted, her small nimble hands trembled but she pushed through; the makeshift ropes rough and uneven would eventually be lowered.
It would prove difficult and an agonising task; Cathryn in her semi-conscious state felt immense pain and could offer no help as Thomas guided her body up; Lydia and Elizabeth hauled on ropes, pulling it around a precariously positioned wooden post to try and alleviate some of the pressure on their own muscle which strained – each slip and scrape against rock though caused a fresh wave of agony for Cathryn, slowly and painstakingly, inch by agonizing inch, they finally brought Cathryn up to safety – Thomas, who had also climbed back up now, worked with Lydia to raise Cathryn up to her feet, though she swayed violently as she found herself solely relying on the support by Lydia and Thomas “Lydia…” Cathryn said, her voice barely audible as her head lolled forwards, her consciousness fading, preventing her from finishing whatever it was she had intended to say
“We need to get out of here” Thomas said, his voice urgent
Lydia nodded – Elizabeth would lead the way, with Norina following behind to offer help should it be needed her eyes never once leaving her adoptive mother, Lydia, occasionally glancing back to offer a warm smile to Norina, though when her eyes shifted to Thomas, there was brief moments she would find herself simply staring until he took notice – her attention bringing her back to reality when he spoke her name drawing her out of her transfixed staring.
It would be a few days later the events of the Pennine Mountain would still cling to Cathryn, she’d survived, that much was obvious, but without her, the groups leadership was uncoordinated, Elizabeth who was still adjusting lacked the ability to take over, and Lydia – heavily distracted couldn’t reliably take charge, so, instead the group after reuniting together at a Safehouse in Kirkland, here they rejoined with Miquel – a Kenyan born soldier that had also joined the group due to Thomas, having served alongside him in the Army, and was one of the first to realise Thomas’ crush on Lydia back during that first encounter.
It wasn’t only Miquel that they reunited with, though he was the one remaining at the Safehouse – there was also the Manchurian; Xian who had come from the Great Qing, despite his age, he was unable to even try taking charge due to Lydia’s distrust – recognising him as a man responsible for her mother’s suffering a month after her and Elizabeth had been born in 1890 – Xian’s failed rescue attempt in the January of 1891 and the second more damaging effort that saw Xian attempt to assassinate George Smythe, an action that would be used to separate Cathryn from her daughters for 5-Years between 1900 to 1905.
Instead of remaining, Xian decided to travel alongside ‘The Monk’ and another of their group; an Ex-Serbian Soldier named Damir, to deal with other issues – the tense atmosphere as a result subsided with Xian’s absence.
Over the next few days; Lydia and Norina would take turns watching over Cathryn, with Norina providing a more active care due to understanding medicine just that little bit better despite her youth.
One night during Lydia’s watch, she felt a growing restlessness gnawing at her; Cathryn was stable and sleeping peacefully, her breathing even – Norina quietly made her way inside the room, she noticed a tension present in Lydia’s posture, so, she quietly approached before tapping her shoulder lightly to draw her attention.
Twisting a little, she gave Norina a gentle smile before finally getting up, no words were exchanged, Norina just observed as Lydia left the room.
The late April air was crisp as Lydia slipped outside, a scent of damp earth of the burgeoning of spring – walking to the edge of the small garden surrounding the cottage, Lydia settled onto the low stone wall, her back to the cottage, bringing her legs up, she sat cross-legged on the wall with her hands resting between her lap, for the first time she truly had a moment to explore the swirling eddy of her thoughts, there was no threat near, no danger to her mother or need to be worried about the next pursuit, she could simply think.
Those senses, usually hyper-tuned to every whisper and rustle of leaves seemed to dull due to the sheer depth of her introspective moment.
Chapter 5:
The memories of the past few days circled her mind, how aggressive she had been, how lethal her intent – she recognised the expressions in Thomas’ face during their brief talk, though as she thought carefully, she focused on his rescue of her mother, there wasn’t any hesitation and he had shown great care during the whole process.
Her memories unfurled as she began to think backwards too; the times with and without Thomas’ presence; her encounter with Albert for that third time in Italy, where he’d tried to physically violate her after beating her in a sword-duel after the Italian Cult of the Wolf’s ambush, she didn’t want to admit it at the time, but she had wished for Thomas’ protective presence in that moment, luckily though she did manage to escape after falling into a desperate terror which saw her using a small knife to stab him before being helped by a former American Cultist named Erin alongside Norina.
As her thoughts processed, that stoic façade, that impenetrable fortress she had built since childhood crumbled within the solitude of the night; her shoulder slumped, her head tilted downwards, she became so lost in thought she was left wide open, a rare fragility that she never revealed.
She failed to even notice the soft crunch of gravel beneath boots or the shift in the night air; Thomas had approached quietly, his own senses finely honed yet he moved with a deliberate gentleness not wanting to startle her – as he watched for a long moment, he observed the vulnerability and rare fragility of her posture; he cleared his throat – a quiet, apologetic sound.
Lydia jolted as if struck, a soft gasp escaping as she whipped her head around; her silvery-grey eyes were wide and unfocused for a moment before snapping into a sharp awareness meeting Thomas’ – for a fleeting second, the instinct to rebuild those walls, to don that hardened mask flickered, yet the depth of her thoughts, the force of unguarded emotions seem to hold her captive, she remained, astonishingly, openly vulnerable, staring at him.
Thomas gaze was gentle; understanding – he saw the flicker of surprise, the brief struggle within her, and then the stillness, the almost palpable sense of exposure, he slowly moved closer towards her before extending a hand and resting it gently on her shoulder; the touch was warm, comforting yet entirely respectful offering solace without intruding “Lydia?” he murmured, his voice a low timbre “Are you alright?”
Lydia remained silent for a an extended moment; her eyes were locked on his, searching his as if she was seeking an answer to a question she hadn’t yet articulated, the air between them – what had just been the cool night breeze seemed to hum with an unspoken tension, finally though; she found her voice, when it came, it was little more than a soft murmur, surprisingly uncertain “Elizabeth…” she began “She…, that comment she made; about you being ‘Infatuated’…, what did she mean?”
Thomas thought carefully, his hand still on her shoulder before slowly, he withdrew it and thoughtfully rubbed his chin, he considered her question; its directness and the raw honesty; he knew that the two different upbringings the twins had – Lydia’s life of always being on the move, and the bits revealed by Elizabeth regarding how she was always surrounded by the wealth and privilege that came with being the ‘Loyal’ Daughter of not just a powerful Cult leader; but a Wealthy Businessman – it meant Elizabeth was much more aware of social interaction than Lydia who lacked that.
But he also knew despite that; Lydia could detect lying, he recognised the intricate layers of her guarded nature; the scars that ran far deeper than she would ever let on, there was no room for evasion, not with her.
He moved to sit on the wall with her, deliberately maintaining a respectful distance between them; a silent promise of respect for her boundaries “Elizabeth…, she was commenting on my feelings; my growing admiration for you” he watched her face for a reaction – there was none, just a wide-open stare, he continued as his gaze softened “Feelings you may not be accustom too; I would imagine given your past…” he had to choose his words carefully, acknowledging the shadow of her father and the abuse committed in Lydia’s presence against Cathryn, he knew her knowledge on relationship, particularly intimate ones would skewed if it even existed at all
“I have feelings for you Lydia” he stated simply; he let the words hang in the air between them, solid and undeniable, he offered a soft, gentle smile; a smile which conveyed warmth and patience, he wasn’t expecting anything “And, I promise you; I will remain for as long as you want me around”
Lydia’s gaze flickered downwards as she processed his words; her long hair, which she had released from its usual ponytail, fell forwards, not only her fringe, but her a curtain fell over her face, purposely hiding her face as she thought – everything he said was like a complex puzzle that she had not encountered before.
The silence stretched; intimate and charged; as she wrestled with unfamiliar emotions his confession stirred; it felt as though an eternity passed, but had only likely been a minute, she could have reacted negatively, but, instead as she raised her head and pushed her hair back so she could look at him properly, that vulnerability had remained, it was deeper and now mixed with a nascent curiosity.
Slowly, almost tentatively; she raised her hand towards him; her fingers hovered for a moment before gently, feather-light; touched Thomas’ face, she traced the line of his jaw, felt the slight stubble there, the curve of his cheekbone; the contact was electric, a jolt “I…, I don’t even know what I am even doing” she whispered, her voice was barely audible, more to herself than to him – though her eyes never left his, there was a mixture of confusion and raw honesty within her eyes
Thomas remained utterly still; maintaining his quietness, his eyes unwavering – he understood, this was new territory for her, uncharted emotional terrain, her gave her the space, the silence for her to vocalise her bewilderment, knowing she was primarily talking herself through it.
Then things changed – she shifted, her movement hesitant, almost clumsy but purposeful as she decided to move closer to him, he could see her hesitancy as she now positioned onto her knees, he knew she would likely be uncomfortable – but it was her decision to lean in that surprised him – her lips, soft and uncertain found his.
It was a hesitant, tentative exploration; but it was undeniably a kiss – and for Lydia, it marked the first time for such an action.
Chapter 6:
Inside the safehouse; a shadow detached itself from the window frame; Elizabeth – she had been observing the scene from the darkness of the drawing-room, she shook her head almost imperceptibly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips, a rare softening of her cold features – despite everything that had happened, despite the usual hostility and the physical differences in strength – Elizabeth did have one advantage over Lydia; she could read her, not always perfectly, and perhaps not when it comes to taking action – but, she could see things others couldn’t, since late 1908 when Elizabeth had joined, she recognised the developing bond between Lydia and Thomas and during times Thomas wasn’t present, she could see a sadness that Lydia tried to hide.
The truth was simple; it was a long-time coming, with one final satisfied glance at the two on the wall; she quietly withdrew.
She made her way to Cathryn’s room; gently pushing the door open where she found Norina, she saw her sitting at the bedside, her eyes fixed on Cathryn’s gentle, sleeping form; though as soon as Norina realised Elizabeth was there, the air took on a distinct tension – unlike Cathryn and Lydia, Elizabeth had been less accepting of Norina and the intimacy Elizabeth witnessed earlier in March between Norina and Erin had heightened the tension between the two.
“Norina” Elizabeth said, her voice unusually smooth but as diplomatic as ever “Would you like something to eat, I am preparing a little something in the kitchen”
Norina’s eyes widened a moment; Elizabeth was offering her food – that was an unusual shift, slowly, she nodded “Sì” she said quickly “Grazie”
Elizabeth gave a brief nod as she vacated the room leaving Norina alone again to watch over Cathryn.
Back outside; the kiss between Lydia and Thomas had come to an end; Lydia pulling back only slightly and briefly before she simply rested her forehead against his, her eyes wide, her gaze fixed onto his; there had still been no return of that stoic mask, there was just a bewildered intensity.
Thomas’ hand, which had naturally come up to cradle her cheek during their kissing, gently traced his thumb against her “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft, concerned
There was a gentle nodding movement; a silent affirmation as she tried gathering her thoughts before gently moving her head away, her gaze drifting towards the safehouse, the warm light spilling from its windows “Should we…, should we go back?” she whispered – the question was laced with a new awareness of their vulnerability, the exposed intimacy “Before someone notices”
Thomas smiled; a smile that reached his eyes “As you wish” he rose from the wall first turning and offering his hand – Lydia looked at him a moment before taking it, her fingers firm within his and she allowed him to pull her gently from the wall, standing right with him she felt a curious shift in perspective; she looked up, suddenly acutely aware of the difference in height between them, it became a new, almost dizzying sensation as his presence loomed – protective and solid.
Together they walked back towards the safehouse; a silence settled comfortably between them – as they stepped over the threshold; Elizabeth greeted them on their return, her voice quiet, almost an echo of the nights peacefulness that made Lydia’s attention shift towards her “Lydia” Elizabeth began, her gaze drifting between her and Thomas, a brief, knowing glance lingering on Lydia’s slightly flushed cheeks “Perhaps you should relieve Norina; I am preparing a meal and she needs to eat” her eyes then shifted to Thomas, a flicker of something unreadable present in the depths “Thomas; are you hungry?”
Thomas, as polite as ever shook his head “No thank you Elizabeth; I think I shall turn in for the night”
Lydia’s eyes followed Thomas as he offered a brief nod and vacated the main living space; the door to his room clicking shut, Lydia’s eyes then turned back to Elizabeth, catching the faintest hint of a strange, almost secretive grin playing on her sisters lips before it vanished; replaced by the usual composed expression as their eyes met – Elizabeth simply raised an eyebrow, a silent, knowing challenge – Lydia, for once decided not to engage, she simply retreated away to go and relieve Norina.
In Thomas’ room – a room he shared with his friend Miquel, he found Miquel stretched out on his cot, eyes closed but he stirred the moment Thomas entered “Thomas” Miquel mumbled, his voice tired but welcoming “Evening Tom; everything all right?”
“Evening; Aye, everything if great” Thomas replied, his voice a little softer than usual as he crossed the room, unbuttoning his top, though his movements were a little abstracted
Miquel, ever observant caught the shift in his friend’s demeanour, pushing himself upright, a knowing glint entered his eyes “You look…, distracted mate; you had a successful evening? There was a subtle emphasis on ‘Successful’
Thomas paused – a faint, shy smile touched his lips as he ran his hands through his short hair as he sat on his own cot “I guess you could say that” he admitted, a quiet warmth in his voice; he didn’t elaborate, but the unspoken implication hung in the air
Miquel simply chuckled “Good; She’s a good, formidable woman; and I get why you wanted to follow her about so much since that first encounter back in the mountains; worth every effort I would wage, eh?”
Thomas gave a quick nod, his smile lingering “Worth every effort” he then took his boots off before stretching, shaking off the day’s lingering exhaustion “Best get some sleep; me and you, we’re heading Penrith to collect some supplies”
Miquel simply chuckled as he laid back down; the two men simply settled, the quiet camaraderie of soldiers sharing a room, a shared understanding a new sense of peace within the turbulent world they had joined.
Chapter 7:
As the last vestiges of twilight dissolved, an impenetrable darkness now settled of the Cumbrian countryside – while everyone at the safehouse had turned in, Lydia was still awake, still sat on the stool in her mother’s room, her thoughts still a swirling eddy that had simply stopped her walls from rebuilding, she was still vulnerable, still fragile – her mind kept replaying her kiss with Thomas on repeat, she liked it, enjoyed it; but yet…, it was now a source of confusion for her, was she meant to like it…, or would it simply lead her down the very same path that had hurt her mother; it had been her first kiss, her first intimate moment shared with anyone, Thomas had shown protectiveness that went beyond what Lydia typically expected, revealed emotions and interest in her that she didn’t understand, but yet; she wanted too.
All these thoughts on what she was feeling conflicted with her established awareness of those she had seen; mostly, her mother and father; as she told Thomas, her earliest memories were of George hurting, physically beating and sexually violating Cathryn – then there was Albert in 1909; his attempts to force her into marriage in Siam then his attempted physical assault and violation following his victory in a desperate duel after she found herself alone following an ambush, these moments of ‘Intimacy’ where all she had to go off, and it was nothing like what Thomas displayed, he didn’t dictate, didn’t dominate; he didn’t verbally command her, he was gentle…, polite.
Lydia simply found herself leaning forwards, her shoulders slumped as she moved her hand upwards, her fingers pinching the top of her nose as she tightly closed her eyes “Mum….” She whispered, her voice was little more than a whisper, but desperate “Mummy; please…., please wake up” her voice cracked as she felt tears prickling at her eyes, a complete betrayal of her usual formidable façade she had worked so hard to maintain, her grip was lose, without her mother she was utterly incapable of compartmentalizing her emotions which now threatened to spill over – she desperately needed her mother.
In Lydia’s distracted state she didn’t even hear the soft creak of the door – failed to even recognise the silhouette of someone entering behind her.
Norina, her eyes fell onto her adopted sister; even in the dim light, she registered the slight tremble and slump in Lydia’s body posture, the precarious way she was holding herself and complete absence of her usual rigid posture; she was utterly vulnerable; quietly, Norina closed the door and approached, her feet landing softly against the carpet, her hand, despite being a light touch made Lydia jump in a sudden fright as she snapped her head up and around quickly twisting her body “Norina” she said quickly trying to composure her voice
“Stai bene?” Norina queried, her voice laced with concern – Lydia didn’t answer, she just looked down, a silence stretched before finally, Lydia shifted her position, making space as much as she could on the stool , a silent invitation for Norina to sit beside her – when Norina sat, her body was physically against Lydia’s, but there wasn’t any awkwardness, her felt safer “Lydia?; Stai bene?”
Lydia struggled; her attention returning back to Norina, she began to let things out, she expressed her confusion, how lost she felt; how she didn’t understand what she was feeling “These feelings…, I don’t…, I don’t know what they are…, I don’t know what to do with them…., I feel so confused…” she admitted, her voice cracking with each word, she had gotten quiet in a desperate attempt to maintain her composure
“Will he hurt me…., is that where it goes?” Lydia brought her head back up as she looked at Norina, her eyes wide, but it was clear how lost she was
Norina thought carefully; she knew little bits of Cathryn’s past – but she never pried, never sought to go too far, Cathryn and Lydia had after all rescued her in 1906 after the Cult of the Wolf murdered her entire family and set fire to the Fiorito Vineyard – her families livelihood and home, and she did try to learn about Cathryn’s history but wouldn’t pry too much, she didn’t feel it was her place, all she knew was her adopted mother had a harrowing past, that Lydia’s upbringing has not very nice, but; her own families history before Cathryn and Lydia did offer her a different perspective that actually had caring dynamics that Lydia lacked “No” Norina said after a silence settled between them “My momma e papà wasn’t like that, they loved…., and cared for…., each other; like Thomas” she told her, though she struggled to choose her words
Lydia looked at Norina carefully, she didn’t say anything – though Norina’s words did ease some worries, Norina sensed a momentary shift; a slight smile curving her lips as she shifted slightly; wrapping her arms around Lydia, drawing her into a gentle, comforting hug; it wasn’t a tight embrace, but a soft enveloping one; Lydia hesitantly leaned her head against the top of Norina’s; it simply felt safe – utterly and profoundly safe, though despite that, she still fiercely tried to keep her tears from releasing, despite how difficult it was becoming, it felt like a step too far if she allowed herself to release that kind of build-up.
As the first pale rays of light began to seep through the curtains, it painted the room in a gentle hue of grey and soft lavender; Lydia – still awake, but beginning to feel the exhaustion realised Norina had already succumbed to sleep, her breathing was soft and gentle, her head resting on Lydia’s shoulder; with the utmost care, Lydia gently eased Norina away from her, adjusting her position to avoid waking her from such a peaceful slumber.
Despite her tired body, she managed to find strength – born of desperation, she lifted Norina’s slight frame and moved her onto the larger bed, gently tucking her in beside their mother; Norina stirred, a soft sigh escaping but remained asleep, with a move, gentle movement, smoothed stray strands of hair from her sisters face.
Quietly; Lydia slipped from the room leaving the two to sleep peacefully; the safehouse itself had begun to stir, she was hit by a fresh scent of coffee and a subtle wafting taste of something being cooked, or had been, as she moved, she felt her eyes getting heavier, her distracted in slow-responsive state, she almost collided with Elizabeth who was coming around a corner; Elizabeth dropping the plate she was holding to quickly grab Lydia’s shoulders out of reflex to stop Lydia from stumbling – Elizabeth’s gaze swept over her younger twin carefully “Your still awake?” Elizabeth questioned, she tried to keep her voice devoid of inflection, but there was a creeping concern, she had assumed that by now, Lydia would have settled
Needing to deflect and shift attention, Lydia quickly pointed back “Ah…, uh, I put Norina to bed with mum, she fell asleep while she was with me”
Elizabeth slowly nodded, there was a flicker of something unreadable, but before anything could be said, movement drew their attention; both girls looked to see Thomas and Miquel emerging, Miquel sipping on what was left of his morning coffee; immediately, what little composure Lydia had shattered – a flush; hot and undeniable crept up her neck and across her cheeks as she her eyes fixed onto Thomas, the kiss had returned to the forefront of her mind – Thomas, ever observant offered a warm, easy smile “Morning Lydia” he said, his voice a comforting rumble “Miquel and I are off to collect supplies from Penrith”
Lydia slowly nodded – she looked like she was processing something in her head, Elizabeth, wary of her sisters current state was about to make a suggestion she go to get some sleep; only instead for Lydia to quickly find herself speaking first, words that simply tumbled out without conscious though “I’ll come with you”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened fractionally with surprise – she knew Lydia was in now state to be going anywhere, Thomas had clearly sensed it too, the evidence was very obvious from her detached gaze, but as he was about to suggest she rest; Miquel chimed in, under the belief he could support his friend’s developing relationship “Excellent idea!” Miquel clapped Thomas on the shoulder “The more hands, the better; and I am certain Tom will enjoy more than just my company” he added with a chuckle
Thomas looked at Miquel with surprise but Miquel merely grinned giving a subtle tilt of his head towards Lydia; Thomas’ suggestion of rest died on his lips, Elizabeth quickly recognised the subtle interplay as she realised that Miquel’s quick acceptance had put Thomas in an awkward position – if he was to tell Lydia to stay, it might hurt her given her emotional fragility that Thomas was clearly aware of like Elizabeth; there was now an unspoken tension, it had been Miquel, not Thomas who had secured Lydia’s invitation.
Elizabeth offered a false saccharine smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes “Very well” she said smoothly, her voice betraying nothing “Return as quickly as possible; and Lydia..” she let her gaze hardened “A supply run does not require your weapons, leave them here” it was a command, not a suggestion; she recognised the need to in still some kind of authority, due to her weariness, Lydia simply nodded in response, not really thinking too much about it or the fact it was a command
Chapter 8:
The journey from Kirkland to Penrith would take just around three hours on horseback and while the morning crisp air would usual be invigorating, Lydia was far from even aware of things, the gentle rocking motion of the hose did little to alleviate the profound exhaustion she was feeling, she barely even registered Miquel teasing Thomas or even Thomas’ concentration on her.
While the interactions between the two friends was warm and teasing, Thomas still managed to divert most of his attention to Lydia, purposely slowing down to ride near Lydia and prevent her falling as her posture slumped, he could see the unusually heaviness in her eyes, while he might not fully grasp the emotional swirl inside her head, he recognised profound fatigue causing him to worry.
By mid-morning the three would reach the market town which was already bustling with activity, they stopped at a small livery stable just on the outskirts – it had become the usual place for Thomas and Miquel to collect supplies due to it being owned by an old friend of their commanding officer during their days in the army, as they dismounted, barrel-chested man approached them, giving a curt nod to Miquel as Thomas moved to help Lydia, feeling her hands on his shoulders as he put his around her waist to support her getting down the bloke watched Thomas for a moment before looking at Miquel “That the girl you two spoke of?”
“Yep” Miquel nodded as he confirmed with a positive tone
“Good looking lass” he said nodding “Lads got good taste, but uh…, she seems a bit off, is she alright?”
“Probably the journey a bit tiring is all” Miquel shifted his attention about “Are the supplies ready?”
“Aye, just finished crating them up” he grunted before gesturing towards a stack of wooden boxes by the far wall “Got a cart and horse tack all set up, just need to fill the cart and your good to go”
“Cheers” Miquel said warmly before shifting to begin assessing – Thomas though, he remained near Lydia, keeping track of what she was doing, though when called over by Miquel, he reluctantly moved “Why do we have glass?” he queried
Thomas gestured towards Lydia “She grinds it down for those ‘Hunter’ tools; the fragile eggs she uses to blind people” he answered “Remember what Cathryn said, Lydia has a preference for using glass instead of spices, stinging nettles or custard seeds”
“Not gonna lie; still glad I am not facing her in a fight, imagine how painful that would be” Miquel admits
Once everything had finished being checked, they begin moving the boxes towards the cart; Lydia, despite weariness, forced herself to move, assisting with smaller, lighter boxes, her movements were sluggish, her reflexes dulled by lack of sleep and a churning emotional whirlwind inside her head.
It was during this moment, as Lydia bent over to hoist a moderate-sized crate, that a rough and larger man named Martin, who had been lazily observing Lydia from a nearby trough moved; during his entire observation, he held a cruel smirk and his eyes in particularly lingered too long, he simply saw a woman seemingly alone, vulnerable; simply an ‘easy target’
He swaggered over, his steps heavy and uncouth; Lydia grunted with effort, felt a sudden, sharp sting against her backside; she straightened up in an instant, spinning around so quickly that her balance was thrown completely off causing her to stumble backwards against the boxes causing some to fall with a heavy thud; her eyes fixed onto Martin’s leering grin, his eyes raking over her – he moved into her personal space; too close, too brazen “Well, well, well; what do we ‘ave here then” he sneered, his breath reeking of stale alcohol causing Lydia’s nose to crinkle “A pretty little thing doing a man’s job; how about you let me help you with that”
Normally, Lydia would have already reacted, but within the limits of exhaustion barely keeping her eyes even open, she struggled to react, her only reaction came in a rather weak attempt to slap him; an attempt he simply stopped by grabbing her wrist causing her to wince from the tight grip “Ow!” she yelped
“Oi; get your hands off her now!” Thomas’ voice, usually calm and composed cracked like a whip, he was already in motion, jumping off the back of the cart and was quickly closing the distance, his face contorted with a cold fury
Martin, startled by the sudden shout, shifted his attention from Lydia to Thomas, letting go of her wrist; his sneer replaced by a challenge “And who are you then; her keeper?” he barked, puffing his chest out
Confrontation erupted within an instant; as soon as Thomas was in front of Lydia he was already in a swing; his punch landed with a thud sending Martin head sideways and throwing him completely off balance; Lydia stood frozen, everything had escalated too fast for her to process and the moment Thomas lashed out, she had simply frozen up completely – Miquel, seeing her stunned into paralysis moved quickly, reacted with the speed of a seasoned soldier as he grabbed and pulled Lydia back from the physical escalation.
Thomas was fuelled by a protective rage, an emotion she had never seen Thomas display before even when facing Albert in Burma; Thomas though wasted no time, while Martin was all bluster, Thomas’s training had kicked in, his strikes were precise, devastating – as Martin fell down, Thomas kneeled directly over him, positioning himself with one knee against the ground as he grabbed Martin by the collar “Listen to me to piece of shit” he snarled “You ever; Ever touch her again, and I swear to every god in the sky, I will track you down and I will break every bone in your miserable body, do you understand me?”
Martin, pale and trembling nodded quickly, Thomas held his gaze for another moment before simply pushing him back roughly and standing up, moving away from him and turning his attention to Lydia, walking to her quickly and deliberately lowering himself to her height, Lydia was simply stunned, her eyes wide as she stared at him, Thomas immediately felt a sense of awkwardness, realising he had let his anger spill much more than he would have normally, it was evident in the way Lydia was staring – she simply didn’t know how to process everything “Lydia?” he whispered gently
At her name she snapped back to the present moment – she had been staring, but had initially been staring through him, now she was actually looking at him; she moved her hand, gently touching his face a moment, she didn’t know what she was doing, but she knew from his growing expression of worry he needed some kind of response from her; her touch, even in her silence at least grounded him within that moment “Are you okay?” she whispered, her attention shifted, she moved her hands to raise Thomas’ she looked at his knuckles, at the bloodied marks left from his fight – she was rather concerned, more so than normal
“We should get everything on the cart and get back…” Miquel suggested “Lydia.., go have a rest in the cart, you seem a bit shocked, might be best to just take a breather” Lydia didn’t really acknowledge Miquel, she simply kept her focus on Thomas, it was only after Thomas led her to the cart she decided to sit quietly, she simply watched as the last of the crates were loaded up, and soon they would once again be on the move
As time ticked away and the afternoon came; Cathryn, finally beginning to stir shifted, a soft groan escaping her lips, her eyes fluttered open, despite the haze, they had taken on the usual sharpness even as pain still clung to her, a reminder of the events back at the mineshaft, her head pulsed in rhythm of her heartbeat, sharp, insistent drumming behind her temples, she blinked – her focus on the figure beside the bed; it wasn’t Lydia – it was Elizabeth.
She recognised the usual; air of elegant severity “Good afternoon mother” Elizabeth said, her voice smooth and even, devoid of the usual emotional inflection “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone has been using my head as a football” she rasped, carefully shifting, testing the limits of her pain “What hour is it?”
“It has just past two” Elizabeth replied, she paused; her gaze resting on her mother’s face, a hint of something uncharacteristically soft within her blue eyes “Lydia has been agitated since last night”
Cathryn’s brow furrowed immediately “What has happened?” she knew that something must be wrong if her usually composed, stoic younger daughter was to be showing such emotions; Lydia has never allowed herself to blend or balance emotions visibly; she locked them away no matter how much Cathryn tried to teach her about balancing them
Elizabeth thought carefully “Thomas…, he has confessed his feelings for her, and…” she paused a moment, noting a suspicious look in her mother’s eyes “She kissed him; she was hesitant…, but she initiated the kiss”
There was a flicker of surprise “Lydia initiated…, not Thomas?…” she thought carefully “Lydia’s first…”
“Most certainly” Elizabeth confirmed “It has left her a little…, or rather…, significantly undone; she has been very distressed, I believed sending her to watch over you, giving her peace to think and process would have been…, beneficial…, it seems to have had the opposite intended effect, she hasn’t slept…”
“Where is she?” Cathryn tone became increasingly concerned
“In Penrith” Elizabeth said flatly “Miquel had accepted her offer to go with them, I believe Thomas was going to suggest she rest, like I was, but Miquel accepted her offer…”
“Created an awkwardness” Cathryn nodded – Cathryn knew she needed to tend to her daughter, she recognised Lydia’s volatility, she locked her emotions away, and Cathryn knew that Lydia had no understanding of relationships, the only thing she could go off would be George’s role – and that was no place to learn about a relationship, she recognised the care Thomas had for her daughter, but would Lydia “Help me up” Cathryn aid, shifting her position
Elizabeth raised her eyebrow; a rare display of concern and surprise “Mother; you are in not state..”
“Elizabeth; your sister needs me, and you know that as much as I do, otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting here watching over me” Elizabeth took a brief second before giving a subtle shift in awkward agreement, perhaps, she thought; she didn’t hide it as well as she hoped
“Very well” Elizabeth sighed softly, standing up to help Cathryn to begin getting out of bed for the first time in days “Lean on me mother” she said, her voice a little softer, with a calculated effort, Elizabeth helped Cathryn to get to her feet – hearing her take a sharp intake of breath as pain flared, but Cathryn pushed through it, her focus was unwavering
Slowly, the two would leave the room to join Norina in the small kitchen, Cathryn easing herself into a sturdy wooden chair as Norina quickly moved to greet her with a bright, happy expression “Mamma” she said excitedly
“Hello petal” she said softly; when Norina shifted back to a counter briefly, she tilted her head until realising Norina was making her a drink; which was place on the table “Thank you” she said with a soft smile
Chapter 9:
On the journey back from Penrith; Miquel shifts his eyes towards Thomas, paying attention to his actions carefully – Thomas, he had chosen to get the cart set up with his own horse, he kept glancing to keep his eye on Lydia as she rested in the cart, though when asked questions by Miquel, he would provide answers, dividing his attention, though one question in particular did draw Thomas to fully move his gaze to Miquel “It isn’t about ‘breaching’…, it’s about patience”
Miquel scoffed playfully “This is Lydia we’re speaking of, this is a woman who can disarm a man with a glance and well-placed boot, you made a gain, I would have thought you’d be well…., less patient for such a ‘prize’…”
Thomas, flicking his eyes towards Lydia; it was obvious she was paying next to no attention, her body was swaying with the movement of the cart, she was barely even awake at this point; he then looked to Miquel “You and I both know Miquel, her history…, Cathryn’s…, how they are part of some ‘Anti-Imperium’ group and have spent most of their lives constantly on the move, she has witnessed things no one should, and to see things as a child…, I experienced the horror of battle at 15; she experienced horrors even younger” he deliberately left things vague; everything Lydia had confessed to him was within confidence, and he wouldn’t breach it “She has no framework for this…, nothing to gage what is normal affection; no health example to go off”
His eyes met Miquel’s – an earnestness in his gaze “I intend to go at a pace she is comfortable with; it is not about what I want, or what I think, it’s about letting her explore these new feelings, new sensations entirely on her own terms; she has never been given such freedom…, autonomy; I want her to feel safe, to know she has control”
Miquel stared at him, his teasing grin melting into an expression of genuine respect “That…, is unusual Tom” he admitted, his voice softer as he shifted; they had been speaking quietly by this point to avoid Lydia hearing them, though he saw what Thomas saw – she was in no state to even pay attention, she looked very clearly as though she wanted to lay down fully, the crates the only thing from stopping her, the gentle swaying and uncomfortable bouncing worked as a mix keeping her both relaxed and yet unable to sleep, his eyes then shifted back to Thomas “Most men would be pushing her boundaries; especially after your first kiss…, I respect that Thomas; really, never met someone who thought like you do” he gave a small nod “Very respectable indeed”
By the time they finally returned to the safehouse in Kirkland – the afternoon sun was high washing the countryside in a pale weak light; as they came within the grounds by the stable, moved with a ease as they got down from the horses; Miquel escorted by his and Thomas as well as the one Lydia had initially been riding to Penrith – Thomas climbed up onto the cart, kneeling down and gently gave Lydia a shake on her shoulder drawing her out of her daze; her eyes glazing over but managed to find him “Hey” he said softly “We’re back at the cottage”
Lydia merely mumbled incoherently as she tried laying her head sideways against a crate; recognising how tired she is; Thomas smiled before shifting his position “Hey, hey” he said softly, moving to put one around under her head gently easing her towards his shoulder as he positioned his other beneath her legs to lift her upwards – she fell pretty easily into a comfortable, resting position, barely even aware of what he was doing, or even the slow movements once he started walking, the only movement she did register was the sudden drop, it was brief but, Thomas had just hopped off the back of the cart – as Miquel sorted the crates, Thomas carried Lydia to the cottage, taking her in where he was greeted by Cathryn as she was slowly moving about
“Thomas” Cathryn said softly, noticing her daughter was clearly not amongst the waking world anymore, she shifted her eyes, gently placing her hand against Lydia’s head before stroking her face, her eyes then shifted to Thomas “I would like to talk with you later”
Thomas gave a slow nod; he was expecting that, smiling, he continued on, taking Lydia to the room she shared with Norina, placing her down on the bed before putting the covers over her; an action that was observed quietly by Norina; Thomas, as soon as he noticed gave a warm smile before retreating from the room to go and find Cathryn – they would soon find themselves in a quite discussion regarding Thomas’ intentions with Cathryn taking in each of Thomas’ words intently; she recognised Thomas as a genuine individual, and while she wasn’t going to say anything to him immediately, knowing she needed to speak with Lydia beforehand, she was accepting of Thomas attempt and interest to try and court her daughter – Lydia’s mental state though required her full attention before she could even allow such a thing to even begin, but Thomas had already put her concern at ease by his mention of the same thing he had said to Miquel about only approaching Lydia at her pace, not his own, something that surprised Cathryn due to its strangeness but also he had done so unprompted, as if to reassure her before she could even question.
As the two parted; Cathryn deciding to check on her daughter, Thomas went to help Miquel – Cathryn, quietly entering Lydia and Norina’s room found Norina tending to her bed, they acknowledged one another quietly before Cathryn sat on the edge of Lydia’s bed, watching her sleep, the gentleness of her chest rising and falling, it had been so long since she actually watched Lydia sleep – the expression reminded her so much of her as a child, how innocent she looked before trying to always hide her emotions.
Cathryn simply sat quietly, gently threading her fingers through Lydia’s hair as she let her mind wander.
Chapter 10:
The safehouse had once again adopted a restful silence as most turned in for sleep – for Lydia though, she was now beginning to stir, finally having had her rest, as she began to pull herself from the depth of her sleep, her eyes slowly blinked open, her eyes focusing slowly within the darkened room, she quickly realised Norina was most likely sleeping, though she noticed a darker figure sat at the edge of her bed, clearly watching her movement.
As Lydia’s eyes adjusted, she slowly sat up realising that the individual watching her was her mother “Mum” she whispered; her breath hitched – she felt a wave of relief suddenly crash over her as she shifted her position, despite how much she wanted to embrace her mother, she knew Cathryn would still be raw from her injuries, so opted to move close enough without touching.
Cathryn though could see it in her daughters hesitation; she smiled softly and just shifted closer despite a sharp pain, purposely moving her left arm up and around Lydia; its effect would be immediate, it drew emotion right to the surface for Lydia as she closed her eyes again, tightly – Cathryn gently leaned her head against Lydia’s as she hugged her gently “It’s okay Lydia” she whispered quietly “You’re alright; I hear that you’ve had quiet the struggle these last few days…, and not just with worrying about me, is there something you would like to discuss?”
Lydia remained quiet for a moment, mostly to compose – taking in a sharp breath, she gave a subtle nod “Thomas” she said, a mix of confusion in saying it; there was another pause before she resumed “He told me he had feelings for me…, that he would stay unless I want him to go….” She hesitated a moment “I.., kissed him…, I feel things…, and I don’t know why” her voice cracked a little as she spoke “I don’t understand; I…, like him…, but it’s not…, I…” she began stuttering, stumbling over her words, but immediately pivoted “Is it going to hurt me?…, I know your and dads relationship…, he hurt you…, over and over until he sent you away…, is that what will happen to me?; will he hurt me?”
Lydia pinched the top of her nose – she felt the tears threatening, she didn’t want to let them fall, she felt it would be weakness; she couldn’t show that
Cathryn listened intently, gently rubbing her shoulder, there was a profound understanding with her eyes as she listened “Lydia…” she finally said, her voice gently, it was like a balm “What your feeling is normal; it’s not just normal, it’s a precious thing” she paused deliberately letting her words sink in before resuming “The marriage with your father…, that relationship; that isn’t how it should be, it wasn’t normal, it was sadistic, and true…, a lot of men can be controlling, they can also be just as caring; what you saw, what I had with George was not ‘Love’ it was pervasion; control and cruelty”
She kept gently rubbing Lydia’s shoulder; Lydia shifted her attention upwards to look at her mother’s face.
“What your feeling for Thomas; it isn’t something to be afraid of; he’s a good man, a gentle man; different to anyone I have ever encountered, and he cares quite deeply about you, he has already spoken with me, he has no intention to rush you, he wants you to be certain on what you want, he has admitted moving at a pace you are comfortable at; you don’t need to be scared” Cathryn looked Lydia in the eyes, a smile present as she gave a gently squeeze “It isn’t weakness; it is connection, it is strength”
Lydia wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but her mother’s words had eased that turmoil – she was still a little scared, but, with the awareness of Thomas not pushing, she felt a little safer, she would need to speak with Thomas “Thank you mummy” her voice cracked as she shifted her position, burying her face gently against her mother’s shoulder, Cathryn simply smiled and maintained her position regardless of any painful sensations she felt
A week later, the cottage seemed to vibrate with a renewed energy; a curious blend of tension and camaraderie; the air outside warmed considerably, hinting at the true arrival of spring yet, the undercurrent of the Anti-Imperium’s ‘Hunters’ temporary sanctuary remained dynamic.
Thomas continued to develop his relationship with Lydia who had begun regaining most of her composure and began to explore her own feelings with Thomas though, her hesitancy remains, but confidence from her mother and sisters gave her that little push.
During one morning though; the front door would burst open, not with violence but a sense of urgent purpose – Xian, a whirlwind of traditional Manchurian garments and simmering intensity strode in, his eyes already scanning for Cathryn as he moved through, following behind was Damir – Damir entered with a much more relaxed gait, his gaze falling onto Miquel who was sat sharpening a knife “Miquel!” Damir boomed, a wide grin breaking across his face as he moved towards him “Still surviving I see”
Miquel chuckled “Indeed Damir, indeed; good to see you again, how was the mission in Newcastle?”
“The usual chaos when it comes to being paired with Xian” Damir joked, his eyes glancing about “Where is Thomas?”
“Ah…, Tom is currently with Lydia; rather smitten with her” Miquel grinned
Damir rolled his eyes a moment with a light grin “Hard to get a read on that girl” he comments “So small and innocent looking, yet, dangerous; Thomas really knows how to pick a potential partner”
Miquel simply shrugs with a light smile.
As Miquel and Damir interacted; another figure slipped quietly through the doorway entirely unnoticed; Erin Mason – her long black hair stood in direct contrast to her pale, ethereal complexion; she seemed almost ghostly with intense deep emerald eyes that hinted at her upbringing amongst the Imperium, her former loyalties once being directly to the American ‘Brothers and Sisters of Liberty’.
Moving with that ethereal-like grace, her presence made a scares ripple within the room, when she found what.., or rather who she was searching for, her gaze was fixed with unerring precision; Norina.
Norina was so engrossed in the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, a cookbook propped open – she didn’t even notice Erin’s arrival; she simply hummed softly as she experimented with cooking.
Erin’s approach was stealthy; her footsteps light – with Norina lost with the aromatic steam rising from the pot, a smile curved Erin’s lips as she moved close behind her – Norina then felt it; two arms, slender yet strong encircle her waist, a chin, surprising cool rested gently atop her head “Hello” Erin’s voice whispered – a sound that was infused with both a usual sultry purr yet a peculiar, almost possessive tenderness
Norina’s body stiffened for barely an instant, a shock of surprise before recognition flooded through – Erin anticipated her reaction perfectly, lifting her head just as Norina spun around within her arms, her head spanning up, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and pure joy “Erin!” she gasped, a breathless whisper and then with a force that surprised even herself; she embraced Erin tightly – the two held each other in a tableau of reunion and fierce affection
Nearby, Elizabeth sat at the table, she had been observing Norina’s experimental cooking while sipping on a cup of coffee, but now a flicker of unease crossed her features as she observed the intensity of Erin and Norina’s embrace for Elizabeth, it was an unsettling bond she was not use to seeing.
Then – suddenly; the calm shattered by the sharp crack of Xian’s voice, rising in volume from the back of the cottage “Unacceptable!”
Elizabeth’s attention snapped in the direction of the shouting, her eyes narrowing; the tension in the air spiked, it wasn’t just her though, everyone else had shifted their attention too, without a word, Elizabeth moved with a fluid motion making for her mother’s room.
Chapter 11:
The tension in Cathryn’s room was high; as she sat simply on the edge of her bed, she watched Xian carefully with an irritated expression as he paced in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back “You must return to leadership at once!” he snapped
He turned fully to look at her “It isn’t exactly like we can turn to the support of other ‘Hunters’ considering your probably the last of your kind since their purge 38 years ago; you are a rarity Cathryn, and Lydia is not capable of leading…, she does not have the…., ‘experience’ and requires guidance” Xian shook his head “George’s Cultists have stepped up their activities across Britain, and not just here, but in the far-flung British colonies too, we are only a small group, and we’re failing to combat them here”
“Xian…” Cathryn began; only for him to cut her off
“If you continue to sit by and rest, you let everything we’ve accomplished crumble, if I must take over, I will” Xian gaze became a challenge, over the years despite Cathryn’s initial rescue of him in 1889 just before her marriage and downward spiral into an abusive marriage she had rescued Xian from a former-British prison ship taken over by Cultists – the first cracks of their friendship would could in 1891 during his first initial and failed rescue attempt and then the assassination attempt on George in 1900 – an event that sparked George’s rage by exiling her and forcibly separating Cathryn from her daughters for 5-Years until Lydia’s eventually escape, things would remain tense – though Xian’s relationship would decline following his encounter with Lydia in Spain during the first months of Cathryn and Lydia’s initial escape from Britain – Lydia’s refusal to let Xian train her, opting for ‘The Monk’ and Cathryn’s to train her instead
With the air in the room tense, thick with Xian’s agitation, there was a sudden shift, it wasn’t subtle – it was almost like a drop in temperature as silence seemed to just deepen, a palpable, intense presence as a figure materialized through the doorway, moving with a quietude that defied the very act of walking.
The Monk.
His Tibetan-like robes flowed like liquid shadow, and his ancient face was serene and unreadable; he held an ageless wisdom – he moved past Xian, his passage effortless, it seemed almost like he merely glided past, placing himself between Xian and Cathryn.
The effect was instant – Xian froze up as his agitated energy simply dissolved replaced by a profound, almost fearful stillness – The Monk’s presence was a powerful aura, a silent command which brooked no argument, turning his head, his dark eyes fixed onto Xian, his voice, when he spoke was low, a resonant murmur yet it filled the room with an undeniable energy “Any move to seize control Xian; will be met with a swift response”
Xian flinched with a barely perceptible tremor.
The Monk continued, his tone calm, almost instructive “You seek to unify, yet your methods would fracture; her position is not merely that; a ‘Position’ she is the very essence of what you believe your fighting for, she is the last of the ‘Hunters’ of her parents’ generation, Lydia is a new generation entirely; Cathryn, she keeps the tradition alive, a the resistance against the Imperium alive, she was raised to understand the ethics of the ‘Hunters’ you have not, it is why Xian, despite your initial distrust, Cathryn was so willing to accept those of a unique and culturally diverse background; Miquel and Erin are two examples, there are many more”
Shifting only slightly; the Monk watched Xian carefully as he finished flatly with “Her role can’t be seized or usurped”
Xian ran a hand through his dark hair, an irritated gesture – he wanted to argue, to push back, but with the Monk; he simply couldn’t; with a frustrated huff, he spun on his heels and strode out from the room; the Monk turned to Cathryn, his features softening into a gentle, knowing smile before he departed the room, his hands behind his back.
Ashe stepped out into the hall; he crossed paths with Elizabeth who had just been listening to the exchange – he paused only momentarily before offering just a brief smile and continuing on, his footsteps making no sound; Elizabeth, she looked towards her mother before quickly deciding to go to her.
Away from the Cottage, Thomas and Lydia was in their own little world, enjoying each other’s company; they had spent most of the morning taking the time to practise different techniques in hand-to-hand fighting, Thomas strong suspecting it would ease Lydia due to her unconventional nature – his suspicion had proven true, she had opened up much faster, she was less hesitant enjoying the new methods that Thomas showed her revealing his own military training, but she also show Thomas pressure-point striking, though didn’t perform them, unlike the initial meeting in the Himalayan during her distrust, they had briefly had a quiet spar – Thomas initially amused at the prospect of Lydia being capable of combat due to her tiny, slender frame – it had been in that encounter that she was trying to hurt him – now, during their own little world, she had purposely refrained from such a thing.
Demonstrating things without physically doing it, but, it also broke some barriers; Thomas had been purposeful in his intention, letting Lydia have the room to make physical contact at her own pace, she became hesitant at times, but Thomas simply encouraged her.
Now; they found themselves simply resting beneath a tree; she had deliberately chosen to seek closer comfort to him, sitting close so her arm was against his, her eyes occasionally shifting towards him – she took in the relaxed, serene peacefulness of his face as he leaned his head back against the tree; his eyes closed.
As April came to its end, and May began – the Group’s dynamic had undergone significant changes following the events at the Pennine Mountains, with Thomas and Lydia’s growing relationship, with Cathryn’s recovery, Elizabeth’s attempt to maintain an authoritative order over her two younger siblings while trying to maintain guidance to help Cathryn – the tensions with Xian, and the ease of brotherly solidarity between Miquel and Damir with the resuming of intimacy between Erin and Norina.
Now though, word had finally been brought back – as Xian approached the dining table in the kitchen which for a change had everyone present, he quickly announced a lead “A Cultist tied to Smythe has been operating in Claughton”
Cathryn shifted her attention towards him a moment, a questioning look as she waited for him to continue.
“Sinclair I believe his name is; he is a member of Britain’s Parliament, and that by itself would indicate a powerful influence that allows George to extend control onto more than just Lancaster, but places like Claughton where he is currently” Xian says clearly, his eyes shifting towards Cathryn “We should eliminate him, we can remove a powerful Political presence giving George influence in Lancashire”
“You’re talking about attacking a Politician Xian” Thomas chimed, his eyebrow raised “That will come with a sharp response, and it wouldn’t be the Imperium; it would allow for George to use the police to hinder what you’re doing”
“By now soldier, you should have grasped we do not follow laws” Xian states firmly, his eyes narrowing as he looks towards Thomas carefully; Lydia in turn narrows her eyes towards Xian but remains quiet, Xian then shifted his eyes to Cathryn “As our recovering Leader; I’ll acknowledge you cannot undertake this, so, perhaps it is best I do”
“I disagree” Cathryn says simply “I trust Lydia’s capabilities to act without drawing attention as the best choice, but as Thomas had pointed out, this is a Politician; and that alone carries risks we don’t normally have to worry about”
Xian raised his eyebrow a moment shifting his attention to Lydia, then back to Cathryn “She is not capable” he states flatly much to the confusion of those present “She would require a physical confrontation with Sinclair, she is too small…, she lacks the physical strength to fight him”
“Who says I need to fight him physically?” Lydia chimes; her voice soft as she has a genuine look of confusion “And when has my size ever stopped me before?; in fact…, lets step back a moment; since when did you start saying I am not capable…, you haven’t made a claim like that since I was first learning…” her tone shifts rather quickly as she becomes irritated, defensive
Xian gestured to Thomas beside her “Your relationship makes you a liability; I have seen your switch to more ‘traditional’ presentation; acting like a teen girl swooning at her first love” he sneered “So no, I do not believe your capable”
Lydia’s temper immediately flares as she twists causing her jacket to fall open allowing her to reach for the throwing knives; her movement is caught by Thomas, as she quickly flings one of the knifes on point at Xian, the knife landed on point painfully, while there wasn’t much force to cause the following stumble – Xian’s movement came as a result of shock as he felt the knife piece at the top of his shoulder, his eyes wide as he looked towards Lydia, Lydia didn’t remain though; she simply stood up and vacated the room, her angered expression remaining
Cathryn shifts her eyes towards Xian for a moment before looking towards Thomas, gesturing for him to go sensing that he was uncertain.
Chapter 12:
Elsewhere the evening sky had darkened plunging the surrounding fields into an ominous darkness as a young woman named; Eleanor and her partner; Archie, rode quietly through the countryside on their trusty horses, a rhythmic sound of hooves against the dirt-road.
As they made their way along the winding trail, the soft glow of the village ahead was a welcome sight that elevated Archie’s mood “There we are” he exclaimed, his voice breaking the silence, looking over to Eleanor, he could see from her posture which had gradually become more and more slumped as fatigue set in, normally, Eleanor’s eyes would be bright and alert, now though; they were heavy – he felt a pang of concern as he watched her lean forwards “Just need to find a place to get a room eh?” he said gently
He stole glances at her hoping to see a spark of excitement, but her gaze remained distance; lost within the haze of fatigue.
The closer they got to the village, the typical sounds of life began to reach them, though strangely – there was also a shift within the air, an uneasiness that prickled the hairs on the back of Archie’s neck as he sensed something wasn’t quite right; there was a sudden rustling that seemed to alert even Eleanor as they both shifted their gaze to peer into the darkness, there seemed to be a sudden eerie silence before a terrified scream shattered the night, its raw and desperate terror filled the air, reverberated Archie and Eleanor’s very eardrum.
A short moment later; a figure emerged from the shadows springing towards them at an alarming speed; it was a large shadow of a man, his face barely visible when struck by the dim moonlight, revealing a face twisted into a maddening expression, a hint of desperation an fury as he barrelled right towards them – the sight was enough to send Archie and Eleanor into panic, both kicking at their horses to get them to cease their slow trot to instead bolt it for the village
Within the hours that followed, as the morning light filled the surrounding area revealing a small woodland off to the side of the dirt-road, a chilling scene unfolded before the eyes of those present.
The air was thick with a sense of foreboding as the reality of a gruesome discovery settled, the taste of iron filled the senses as the butchered remains of not one; but three bodies lay cruelly exposed just short of the dirt-road – amongst those present was a local politician, his expression detached, almost uncaring as he listened to a Constable that had journeyed from nearby Lancaster to investigate the reports of a ‘Mass-Butchering’ the officer made mention of a report from a married couple ‘Archie and Eleanor’ claiming if the report had not been made, the scene would likely have been left for a long period.
The politician, addressed as ‘Sinclair’ shifted slightly, his eyes moving from the Constable to the bodies, his hands resting behind his back; the three bodies had been violently attacked not just before the loss of life, but had clearly continued after the deaths, Sinclair then shifted his attention back again “And…, where are this married couple?” his tone was cold, detached which the Constable found somewhat odd, but put it down to his role as a Politician, and most likely simply didn’t really care
“They are at the Royal Anne Public House” the Constable answered, gesturing back towards the village
Within the village, the brutality had spread like wildfire, catching the notice of a stranger present within the same Pub as the married couple; he stood out very obviously, yet, despite it; he was barely even glanced at; a Man, wearing Multi-Layered Robes with typical pants, with sturdy boots – with a strangely unique looking body armour, an experimental armour that only covered his chest, with a hood pulled up – but it wasn’t only his clothing that made him stand out, but the Kodachi Short-Sword resting within its sheath on his back, the Kukri-Curved Knife sat within its holsters on the back of his waist which partially covered a secondary holster containing a modern firearm; a Mauser C96 Pistol.
This was Astor – as he sat quietly in the corner of the Pub, despite his face being hidden by his hood, his eyes were fixed in the direction of the couple, he listened to not just their hushed conversation but the worried gossip of those around him, he was like a statue, a strange aura permeated him that even with his obviously different style was strangely completely ignored, allowing him to gather information without issue.
As Sinclair returned to the village; he presented a calm demeanour and played the ‘caring’ representative, offering carefully chosen words to ease the building terror the villagers faced, in truth, he had no intention of doing anything, in fact; he was now interested in finding the married couple to know exactly who it was he intended to have dealt with.
Back within the Kirkland safehouse – Xian had long since tended to his shoulder injury, but found himself partially cut off from the rest of the group; but, he was fine with that, he began to plan his own actions out alone, he knew he would simply operate without the need of anyone’s oversight, he had after all been organising groups in Spain and within the Great Qing; he would be more than capable of doing his own actions right there in England.
As he sat quietly outside, he shifted his attention, he heard the sound of hooves shattering the quietness, turning his attention he got up to investigate, spotting a horse leaving the cottage grounds, but it was who was riding away that made him wonder what was going on; Lydia had set off, was she meant to be going off on her own – he decided to go inside, approaching Cathryn and ‘The Monk’ sat within the living room space, they had been listening to Erin who had been revealing information about Cultist operations she had been observing within London and plans she had discovered involving a mysterious temple being discovered by a Cultist group in French controlled Mauritania, believing his question urgent, he spoke directly over Erin drawing attention “Where have you sent Lydia?” he questioned, his tone sharp “Should I not be also involved if your sending people out”
The look in Cathryn’s eyes said it all though – she didn’t know what he was on about “What do you mean?”
“Lydia has just left on horseback” Xian says, gesturing back the direction he came from – Cathryn’s eyes seemed to widen, as she struggled up feeling pangs of pain as she moved
Cathryn moved past Xian as fast as she could getting outside and glancing about, before moving to the stable to discover one of the horses had indeed gone; her attention shifted as she heard movement approaching; turning her eyes towards Erin and Norina who came to follow along with the Monk and Xian.
Though it wasn’t long before Thomas, Miquel, Elizabeth and Damir also joined “Thomas, did Lydia make any mention of what she was intending to do?” Cathryn questioned quickly, her voice becoming tense
“Lydia has been quite…, distant since his comments yesterday” Thomas says gesturing to Xian; Cathryn narrowed her eyes a moment as she looked to Xian before shifting to look around
“Perhaps it would be best we go after her mother” Elizabeth added, her tone flat as usual; her posture and expression betraying nothing as she watched her mother carefully
“Go…, get after your sister” Cathryn responds with an urgency to her voice “I suspect I know where she is going”
“I’ll go with you” Thomas chimes as he follows Elizabeth when she moves, the two both walking towards the stables, Elizabeth looks at Thomas for a moment before giving a subtle nod – they would be working together once again, though unlike past interactions, the tension would not be present on Elizabeth’s part, she had accepted him due to his closeness to her sister
Chapter 13:
The Smythe Estate, Kent
Down to the South of England; along the mouth of the River Thames stood a building in the process of being rebuilt – in 1905, it had once been a blend of dystopian opulence, its towering spires once reaching to the sky, a Manor of grotesque design with a history that stretched to the days of the late 17th Century, what remained now was a partially reconstructed building, a building that had been burned down in 1905 by Lydia’s older half-brother; William – it was a severe act of betrayal against George, William, after being present at a conversation discussing plans to sacrifice Lydia at an alter for the ‘Dark Master’ – a celestial being that the Imperium sought to find and free, it had sparked William’s act of rebellion, a betrayal of George Smythe.
George, a man of power, stood observing the efforts of reconstruction, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair, short and Dark-Blonde with a glacial stare within his icy-blue eyes, he listened to a report being brought to his attention regarding Sinclair in the North, slowly he nodded “Send a telegram; he has permission to act at will” his voice was a rumble, his words though were delivered like a command, his patience had been wearing thin, he had been facing challenges not just from Cathryn and her Anti-Imperium ‘Hunters’ but from within the very Imperium itself – the elected leader; Victor, had been taking the opportunity to try seizing back power from George who had grown to accustom to holding all power due to his Political power and Business Empire, now, in crisis – his grip was slipping; word of Cathryn’s actions in the Pennine had reached him, as had the actions of Damir and Xian in Newcastle; he was well aware of how much his power was being checked by opposing players, he intended to strike back, and it would begin in Lancaster and its surroundings, he would correct his father’s past mistake; the failure of the 1872 Purge, but first, he needed to draw out his primary targets.
Turning, he commanded for his carriage to be readied before walking off, a low growl escaping his throat.
In Kirkland things had begun to swing into motion, Xian realised what he had set off with his words, he felt the judgement from those present as they began gathering things up in preparation to relocate in order to go after Lydia.
Outside of the cottage, Miquel and Damir packed up the cart, but ensure space for Cathryn to travel on it, aware of her recovering body and unlikely to be able to ride the Horse for an extended period,
Cloughton, Lancashire
It would be the next day that Lydia would eventually find herself near Cloughton; although not certain of what to find, she purposely dismounted from the horse at a distance, the bag strapped from her right shoulder hung down to the left of her hip as usual with the Jian Sword tied against her bag for her quick access, as she began walking though, she became aware of being observed causing her to stop completely, her attention drifting about, her eyes focusing intensely on her surroundings, carefully she moved her right hand across towards the hilt of her Jian “I wouldn’t” a calm voice stated making her jump, she turned sharply to see Astor standing opposite of her on the opposite side of her horse looking at her, she remembered him from their previous encounters in Whickham, how he had displayed an elegant and fluid fighting style, even using tactics similar to her own “I also advise you not walk directly into a village that is on high alert for killers with your hand resting on your sword” he advises
“Your carrying weapons openly” Lydia retorts
“People do not look upon me as a local of the land” he states simply “My father is Japanese, my Mother from Yorkshire; I am of mixed heritage, and it is easy to see, besides, I don’t exactly dress like someone from here do I”
“Wait…, you can speak?…” Lydia simply stared at a moment, her immediate shift on the conversation as realisation settles that Astor is actually talking; Astor simply stared at her with an unreadable expression before gesturing towards Cloughton
“I suggest, if your intending to target Sinclair, you wait; he has an enforcer committing acts of brutality and savagery on his behalf, it would be most prudent to take out the beast before its master; that way, the master will be defenceless” Astor gives a rare smile before turning away from her, slowly walking along the dirt-road, Lydia’s eyes following him with utter confusion
While Lydia faces confusion from her interaction – Along the road, Elizabeth and Thomas had long since began their long trek from Kirland towards Cloughton, they knew that somewhere along the road they would find Lydia, but, it was a matter of patience, it did however give room for Elizabeth to talk with Thomas, though she struggled to reign in her sharpness, each question sounding accusatory, though Thomas understood what she was doing “Well…” Elizabeth shifted her gaze towards him “Are you being sincere”
“Regarding my feelings for Lydia?; Yes” he nodded – Elizabeth also slowly nodded before hesitating for a moment, then, she asked about their first encounter “Huh…” he chuckled “My regiment was chasing after a group of bandits that had attacked a village, we’d followed them up into the mountains and unfortunately walked into a kill-zone set up by your mothers group”
“A kill zone?” Elizabeth raised her eyebrow
He nodded “Aye; a Kill-zone, they had set up ankle traps across a narrow passage along the mountain, we was not aware until one of our lads got thrown off the mountain side after triggering a trap, your families ingenuity is actually quite remarkable, I don’t think I had ever come across such a sophisticated set up before, using snow to hide the trip-wires and the like, its rather advanced” he paused for a moment “When we realised we was in the middle of this trap set up; it was Lydia who found us, she didn’t speak but gestured, it was quite difficult to follow her instructions, but she got us to safety and we joined her at her encampment where obviously we met your mother, Damir and Xian, the Monk and Norina”
Elizabeth slowly nodded.
“Your sister did not trust us, she found us rude apparently, but I suspect that is because most of the regiment were making comments about her; since, initially we believed she wasn’t able to talk English, we thought she was Serbian due to that Royal crest on the arm of her jacket, while they all spoke about what they wanted to do to her, I paid attention…., and the more I learnt about how the group was seeking to find a strange temple, my Commanding Officer offered support, I took an opportunity to practise with her; she did not like me at all, deliberately tried hurting me when she demonstrated wrist-licks and joint-kicks, kept kicking my knee a lot; bloody hurt” he chuckled “But I saw something I had never seen in anyone before; and I simply fell in love right there and then” he smiled genuinely as he looked towards Elizabeth “Would it hurt if she sent me away; Yes, would I accept her decision; Yes” he shifted his gaze forwards as Elizabeth slowly nodded her features softening
Chapter 14:
Cloughton, Lancashire
It would be a few hours later that Thomas and Elizabeth would find Lydia; she had not progressed towards the village any further than where she had encountered Astor; instead, she had set up a small hastily made-encampment along near some trees, her attention immediately moved to them once she heard Thomas’ voice and rose up to her feet as the two approached her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” Elizabeth snapped “You had us worried”
Lydia pointed towards Cloughton “Sinclair is using an enforcer to do his dirty work” she said simply; though her eyes drifted back to Thomas, the usual feelings she had started having resurfacing once he came close, her face becoming flushed as she felt the heat rise very suddenly as she stared
“Don’t do it alone” Thomas said softly “Let us help; we’re a team yeah?” his words made Lydia smile as she gave a subtle nod, she was letting him in, regardless of what Xian said, or even claimed; her mother had made it perfectly clear what she was feeling for him wasn’t weakness, and she wanted to believe that, because the things she felt, it made her happy and it was a rare thing for her to feel.
Later into the evening, after Elizabeth has performed some scouting – the three sit at the encampment, listening to the information brought by Elizabeth “Everything he has, has been obtained through our father, and by the looks of things, he organising killings for a purpose to draw someone out…, possibly us, but I doubt it”
“So…, am I going to attack…, or are we waiting?” Lydia queried
“Let’s contend with the one following his orders first; we deal with him, we can deal with Sinclair” Elizabeth shifts her attention a moment; but Lydia recognises the same advice Astor had given, causing her to shift her attention along the road.
As the sun dipped below the horizon casting a gentle twilight over the village; Archie and Eleanor would find themselves in the midst of preparations for their departure, a light chill filled the air as Archie busied himself saddling their horses, his movements were deliberate and efficient while Eleanor stood nearby, her heart racing – she wanted to leave, and leave quickly.
A dim glow of the recently installed streeting lights created a soft pool of illumination along the street, their flickering presence a direct contrast to the approaching darkness as one by one, residents retreat to their homes, silhouettes faded from view, each ticking of a clock would amplify the sense of urgency to escape the village; “Let’s get out of here” Archie said before help Eleanor up onto the horse first before climbing up onto his own, he could sense Eleanor’s growing distress – the need to escape.
Soon, they had begun to move; they left Cloughton to travel along the dirt-road, Archie tried to reassure Eleanor’s fears as they rode further and further away from Cloughton; observing them, a figure melted away into the darkness.
As the long road stretched ahead, empty and shrouded in darkness an eerie sense of foreboding prickled Archie and Eleanor perched atop of their horses as they felt the all-consuming apprehension wrapping around them, it was like a thick fog – a killer was out on the loose, and they had chosen to leave during the night, the realisation had slowly kicked in of how much danger they were in, initially – they had believed the darkness would be perfect to hide them, now, it felt like a massive mistake.
Their surroundings became disorientating and unrecognisable, devoid of any guiding light or familiar landmarks; they were essentially adrift in a sea of shadows.
Then, the silence was shattered by a loud bang that reverberated through the stillness, pierce the air with an unsettling clarity – in an instant, the horse beneath Eleanor reared up in fright; whining in distress, Eleanor lost her grip in the sudden movement tumbling backwards and she hit the ground with a jarring impact; pain radiated through her body as she landed awkwardly, a scream tore from her lips instinctively escaping the confines of her throat as she felt a sharp pang of pain through her wrist.
Archie in a moment that felt frantic and decisive, leapt down from his horse with a sense of urgency which propelled him to Eleanor; just as sudden though, he stopped, he noticed something, a chilling realisation had struck him – something was drawing closer, his heart began to pound in his chest as his eyes widened in terror.
The man they had encountered the previous night; he was right there, slowly approaching – that same sickening grin present on his face.
Before Archie could realise what was going to happen, a second, deafening bang broke the silence of the night yet again; Archie felt a sharp pain rip through his leg, a fiery agonising sensation that made him crumple to the floor as he let out a guttural cry, a sound filled with anguish and desperation “Two more kills to the list; can’t allow any witnesses” the man stated, an icy calmness to his voice, the words simply chilled Archie to his very core
Within that moment; the world seemed to freeze, the weight of those words hung within the air; Eleanor’s eyes; terrified, locked onto Archie’s in the darkness as the horror of their situation unfolded, everything about the trip had started off so innocently; so carefree…, now, it was about to end in devastation.
As the larger figure lowered the revolver towards Eleanor first; his eyes locked on Archie, a sickening grin twisting his lips; he was about to squeeze the trigger; but a sound of movement drew his attention.
The Enforcer, shifting to look and see what was coming his way saw something reflect the light of the dim moon; it was coming directly for his head, it was so close he had little time to even think as he jerked back instinctively just barely evading as a ‘whisp’ of metal swung just narrowly near his neck – he scrambled to try getting some distance as his eyes locked onto his attacker; he saw the small, lean figure of a woman, there wasn’t much for him to go off as he raised his revolver.
Lydia locked her Silvery-Grey eyes on her target with fierce determination as she quickly moved, she was already making plans of her next move before she had even made her first strike, so, even as the Enforcer evaded, she withdrew her hand from within her pocket, within her slender fingers she gripped a fragile egg tightly, breaking it within her grip before throwing her hand forwards – microscopic shards glinting in the moonlight – Finely Grounded Glass Powder, it flew forwards, the gentle breeze blowing it on target striking the Enforcers eyes just as he raised his revolver, that split second of sharp pain he pulled the trigger as his aim shifted.
A yelp of pain followed the third loud bang of the night; a sound of utter pain as metal clattered to the ground, Lydia stumbled sideways before her footing tripped her over, stumbling to the floor as she gripped her hand around her arm wound, a searing pain and a wetness that she could feel on her left hand as she leaned down on the floor, her forehead scratching against the dirt-road as she gritted her teeth.
Having been watching the ambush, Thomas wasn’t waiting any longer, he had heard that third shot and concern propelled him into action; drawing his own revolver, he rushed to where he saw Lydia’s darkened figure suddenly drop after hearing her yelp, and he immediately rushed towards her skidding down beside her and looking at her before his eyes landed on her target, his eyes narrowed in anger and without hesitation simply raised and pulled the trigger of his revolver; the fourth bang rang out with finality as his attention shifted to Lydia.
Elizabeth also rushed over, though as Thomas focused on Lydia, Elizabeth focused on Archie and Eleanor, urging them to return back to Cloughton to seek aid, before joining Thomas in moving Lydia somewhere safer so they could tend her arm injury.
Word though would return back to Sinclair about the fate of his enforcer which would spark his rage as he began to organise his response; all the while, Cathryn’s group would reunite with Thomas, Elizabeth and Lydia and organise to find a safehouse not far from Cloughton.
Chapter 15:
May, 1910
French Colonial Mauritania
The desert, a vast and indifference canvas of ochre and rust stretched out, across the horizon a subtle shimmering haze from the heat of the sun, a brutal bright eye high in the cloudless sky, it baked the skeletal remains of what might have once been a place of life, not only dust and petrified memory.
Here amidst the endless undulations of sand was an ancient temple entrance, it lay partially consumed, its weathered carvings whispering of forgotten power within the parched air; its shadowed maw was a welcome respite, a promise of cool stone, yet within its depths, something colder stirred.
A group of French Cultists ‘The Roosters’ clad in dark, sand-covered clothing moved with a strangely disciplined precision, at their head was Joséphine Léonie MacQuoid, her severe features etched with a fanatical zeal as she directed them with clipped authority, she was like a seasoned general, her eyes sharp and predatory as a hawk scanning the shifting sands, not for threats, but for the elusive currents of power she believed coursed beneath – she hoped that this would be it, the Ancient Prison for the Ancient Celestial Being the Imperium desperately sought to free, so far though nothing seemed to indicate it was.
The men, loyal still found themselves unnerved by her intensity, that chilling detachment from the common man’s morality.
As Joséphine barked commands, her voice was as usual resonant within the suffocating silence as another figure detached itself, a distorted shimmer in the heat; a man – her husband, a British Cultist and bound normally to the ‘Cult of the Minotaur’; Edward MacQuoid, his movements were heavy, more aggressive than those of the Frenchmen moving about, carrying an equally ominous weight as Joséphine, his eyes the colour of stagnant pond water skimmed across the figures for a brief moment before finally settling onto his wife as he came to a stop beside her “The telegram has been sent; the Imperium should be made aware within the week” he said, his voice a low raspy murmur
Joséphine, without turning acknowledge him with a curt tilt of her head “And what of the ‘Hunters’ that had been pursuing us” she question, her words a silken threat laced with venom “At they still a persistent thorn in our side Edward, or have you dealt with that nuisance?”
A slow, reptilian smile spread across Edward’s lips revealing teeth that seemed just shade too sharp “Ah…, the Hunters” he drawled, the desert wind seeming to carry a faint metallic tang “No my dear; They have already been…, taken care of” the casual dismissal of lives, a whole lineage of resistance hung in the air
At the dilapidated ruin of what was once a farm, swallowed by the relentless advance of nature which had been reclaiming the land, fields a tangled mass of weeds and thorny brambles which pressed on crumbling walls – it was here that Cathryn’s group had just relocated too after Lydia had set off alone on her solo-mission only to be caught up by Thomas Elizabeth.
The Farm was very different from the Safehouse they had been using in Kirland, in the back of one of the more stable buildings where light struggled to penetrate, Lydia was now sat stiffly on a rickety wooden chair, her hair had fallen loose and was now a cascade around her shoulder, her eyes where a mix of her usually fierceness, but also frustration.
Her jacket had been removed, placed with the rest of her equipment so that Norina; the adopted daughter of Cathryn, who shared an eerie twin-like resemblance to Lydia and as a result, a close appearance to Cathryn, was knelt down beside Lydia, her slender fingers carefully adjusting the dressings, despite being two years younger than Lydia, Norina had proven her competence in providing map-reading and medical training, her brow currently was furrowed in concentration.
Lydia and Norina wasn’t alone in that dimly lit room; present was also Thomas, now more visible he stood in the doorway, his muscular build shadowed against the wall, his gaze fixed on Lydia, a line of concern etched in his brow betraying the unspoken anxiety that pulsed beneath his calm exterior.
Then, there was Cathryn; she observed with a chilling serenity, her own hair as dark as Lydia and Norina’s was tied back in a bun, and her Silvery-Grey eyes held a depth of experience that bordered on terrifying; she sat on the edge of a collapsed hearth “Lydia; what were you thinking?” her voice was low, yet each word carried the weight of steel “Committing to a mission alone and without even telling any of us; what if you had gotten yourself killed…, do you know what that would do to me, I can’t lose you”
Lydia stayed quiet; she since her childhood, when her father first began trying to isolate Cathryn – she had always defied it, regardless of her tender age of five; she still felt a desperate pull that was simply bewildering for even her father; she was always drawn to her mother; her eyes dropped – as of late, that usual steely façade had been constantly collapsing, first her first intimate kiss with Thomas led to an emotional breakdown due to her fear and confusion, now; her guard simply cracked again as she processed those words alone ‘I Can’t Lose You’ she felt her lip tremble, her eyes just fixed in place on the floor, before finally she moved her left hand upwards, she pinched the top of her nose as she tightly closed her eyes
Cathryn softened her features as she watched Lydia carefully, her eyes drifting momentarily towards Thomas, before returning back to Lydia “Lydia; no matter what Xian said, everyone here in this group knows exactly what your capable of, his attempts to undermine you…, it simply won’t work; your skill is evident…, your courage fierce….”
Lydia opened her eyes after a moment, looking towards her mother; she didn’t speak, there wasn’t much she really could say; she had been reckless to even rush off in the first place, she was lucky Thomas and Elizabeth had found her before she began – and luckier that Thomas was present during the actual attack on the Enforcer, otherwise she might not have even survived
Norina, sensing an opportune moment, gently but with deliberate firmness, tightened the last fold of the bandage; it was a sharp sting of pain that shot through Lydia’s arm drawing a sudden gasp and a twitch, Lydia’s gaze snapped to Norina who offered apologetic smile “Sorry Lydia” she whispered, though there was a light twinkle of mischievous present
A faint, rueful smile touched Lydia’s lips; she shook her head “No” she said wincing as she flexed her fingers “You’re getting better at sensing opportunities”
Norina’s smile widened; a beacon of youthful innocence within the grim surroundings and heavy atmosphere.
Chapter 16:
Heysham, Lancashire
In the opulent, yet chillingly austere of a Bureau for the Cult of the Minotaur a dangerous tension has just set in as George Smythe; the Sadistic and insidious leader had just arrived, his presence a dark cloud that just seemed to drain the light from the ornate rooms, his dark blonde hair was perfectly combed, his icy-blue eyes held a cold calculating gleam; he was a man accustomed to having his will obeyed, his every whim fulfilled.
A message, a young man with a pale face with what might have been a look of reverence or even fear hurried forwards, bowing deeply “Sir; I have a report from Cloughton, Sinclair…, his enforcer has been discovered with a wound to the head but also ground glass within his eyes….”
George looked at the messenger carefully “Ah…, my dear wife” he said, his voice a rasp, even as a murmur it emanated dominance “Or.., perhaps even my daughter” he seemed to be thinking; his eyes shifting a moment “Wait…, no…” he shifted his eyes back to the messenger “Neither Cathryn or Lydia typically follow up with a gunshot”
George gestured “Return back to Cloughton; inform Sinclair of my presence here, tell him I expect an in person report, and that there should be no more slip-ups” with almost dismissive gesture, he simply waved the messenger offer as he shifted and walked towards one of the backrooms, his mind still locked on trying to figure out who would use a combination of ground glass with a firearm – the glass-tactic itself he knew, he recognised as his daughters preference to the signature ‘Hunter Weapon’ instead of the usual mix; Stinging Nettles and Custard Seeds ground into a fine powder – the message, he simply scurried away quickly.
Lancashire, East of Lancaster
A the dilapidated farm, the evening had drawn a cloak of shadow over the ruins, deepening the sense of isolation; Lydia had found a place to isolate herself from the rest of the group; she had managed to set a fire that not crackled and popped casting dancing eerie shadows across the scarred walls, her mind had once again succumbed to the turbulent sea; it wasn’t just her reckless action, the relationships early exploration – but how she could have also left her mother if she had been killed, she shifted her hand to her face as she tightened her eyes once more.
With so many different thoughts, emotions and feelings; she was unstable emotionally – she felt adrift in a vast sea with not means of control, she had purposely chosen to be isolated due to her hardened exterior cracking, she was vulnerable…, completely open and fragile as she simply stared.
She was so lost in her own thoughts, the unfamiliar sensations that churned, she didn’t even register Thomas’s approach, not until he’d settled beside her, a quiet reassuring presence within the gloom – he had taken notice of her self-imposed isolation, and while Cathryn had wanted to go to her daughter, her fractured ribs still prevented her from moving around as easily as she wanted too, and with Elizabeth typical rivalry resulting from her past as the once ‘Loyal Daughter’ to George, her sadistic traits still being shed after joining the Anti-Imperium cause in 1908, there was still tension between Lydia and Elizabeth, and Norina simply didn’t have the confidence to be that presence Lydia required; her youth working against her regardless of her attempts.
Thomas though – a man in his mid-20s, with a service in the British Army that stretched to serving within the Boer War after joining with lying about his age at 15; he had a better grasp of trauma; being exposed to battlefields – and his consistent rescues had built up trust from their initial encounter in 1907 – Lydia had gone from distrust to the fledgling relationship they now found themselves in since late April.
Lydia’s attention shifted once she finally realised, he was beside her; her Silvery-Grey eyes wide with fleeting surprise “Are you alright Lydia?” Thomas asked gently, his voice a low thrum that seemed to settle her
The silence though stretched; it spoke volumes of an internal conflict going on in her mind, a deeper line of concern formed in Thomas expression, he moved deliberately slow; his hand rose to gently cup her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin – the warmth of his touch was a shock, a sudden and potent sensation that both startled yet drew her in.
Hesitantly Lydia leaned into his hand; her eyes still wide locked on his; she was thinking, processing, but her body had made the decision without her conscious permission, raw vulnerability that made her uncomfortable, yet she couldn’t pull away “Are you telling the truth?” she questioned, her voice was barely a whisper; the word themselves barely audible over the crackling embers – the truth of his feelings, his intentions; of this strange new path they were stumbling down
Thomas simply smiled at her it was a genuine, open expression that could chase around shadows “I shall tell you the same thing I told Miquel, the same thing I promised when talking to your mother” he held her gaze, his thumb still gently stroking her cheek “I will only go at your pace; I will not push you Lydia…, when you open up, I recognise how difficult it is for you to do that, I know you struggle with talking about things, when we was at the mine…, when you told me about what your father did to your mother in front of you, those deliberate acts to not just degrade Cathryn, but break that bond you had”
He kept his eyes locked so she knew he was speaking truth as he maintained his gentle voice “I know what has shaped you your entire life; you have no experience with any of this, and what you do have awareness off, is only pain; I won’t pretend to understand the sheer depth of that, but I do understand you; how your struggling with all this” he paused for a moment “I will remain for as long as you want me around; I won’t push, even if your demand I leave…, it will hurt, because I really do have feelings for you; but, I will do what you ask, I am not going to hurt or pressure you”
Lydia swallowed as she stared at him intently, slowly she gave a nod – her face, in the flickering light was flushed, a wave of heat rising from her chest, her hesitation when it came to this new territory intensified, palpable; she bit her lip as he gaze dropped towards his jawline, considering her next move with a fierce, almost desperate intensity – it was a terrifying experience.
The moment stretched – a taut silence with unspoken possibilities; then, slowly with deliberate movement that spoke volume of immense courage, Lydia positioned herself directly over his lap before resting herself in a comfortable position, she was slow not just for her own positioning, but so Thomas would adjust in response; as she settled into his lap, her knee’s rested just above the floor, her feet positioned just beneath his raised knee’s.
Thomas looked at her carefully – her body was s light, insubstantial as she simply rested there – she was suspended between apprehension and burgeoning desire; unlike the first intimate moment where Thomas had remained utterly still; this time, Thomas subtly placed his hands down along her legs as he kept her gaze, gently stroking his hands along her thighs.
He was still letting her decide on her actions – he needed her to feel safe, to feel autonomy in each action she made; that trust while not as fragile as it had been; it was still developing; slowly, Lydia’s fingers began a hesitant journey – they traced lightly along the line of his jaw, she felt the stubble against her fingers; the warmth of his temple, each touch was a question, an exploration – then, her eyes meeting his one more time, she pushed herself, she felt her breathing beginning to increase as she leaned forwards.
As her lips met Thomas’ for the second time; this kiss however was different from the first, it wasn’t tentative, nor exploratory – this kiss held intent, a deepening current of emotion; her lips, soft met with Thomas’, it sent a shiver down her – as Thomas sensed a shift, he gently moved his hands away from her thighs and up to encircle her waist, he pulled her in, closer; they pressed their bodies with a tender urgency; the kiss deepened – slow, potent as it unravelled years of pent-up emotions; a silent conversation brimming with unspoken need and emerging desires.
When they finally broke their lips apart; Lydia was breathless and a little shaken – but she didn’t pull away, she rested her forehead against his; her eyes closed as she took in a deep, shaking breath and inhaled his scent
The world outside of the intimate space created by Lydia and Thomas; the looming cults and desolate ruins faded into a distant hum; Lydias body, usually taut and rigid relaxed, resting against him as she shifted her head, nestling against his shoulder as her left arm instinctively moved to hold onto him as if to anchor herself against the dizzying array of feelings – she was taking in deep breaths – Thomas remained patient, he felt her body relax; her light frame made it rather easy for him to adjust comfortably as he held her gently.
Chapter 17:
Cloughton, Lancashire
Outside of the village of Cloughton the discovery of the Enforcer has only intensified the fear – by the late evening of that very day, Sinclair was left in an utter rage as she sat within the privacy of a cottage provided him to by George Smythe to enable his work as a Member of Parliament – his placement in Lancashire worked to increase George’s political control.
As Sinclair oversaw a report from the Constable he now found himself working with, he read the details of the report with an intense focus, barely even registering the knock on his door, it took a good few minutes before his head finally perked up, his expression angered at the interruption as he finally got to his feet and made his way to open the door, discovering the messenger “Ah” he said with a slight surprise to his voice “Go wait; I need to finish reading the report before I take any other bad news” he clicked his fingers and pointed, the Messenger scurried past before the door was closed – Sinclair simply returning to his study to resume what he had been doing.
Once he finally finished, he went to the messenger to listen to the instructions passed from George “Am I expected to travel to Heysham?” Sinclair looked irritated “How do I focus on the Hunters here, and return to Heysham; this is getting ridiculous” he snapped
“Sir…” the messenger hesitantly spoke; though Sinclair’s angered eyes locked onto him, silencing him immediately
“I will go once I have finished organising a response; I have some information I can act on right now, hopefully that can suffice to ease any issues George may have waiting on my report” Sinclair seemed to be thinking aloud than actually speaking to the messenger; then a silence settled in “I want you to get some scouts to begin a search across the farmland…, the second report from the married couple to the Constable indicated a saviour; three of them, one was wounded in the arm, possibly, they will be needing a place of safety”
The messenger quickly became excited; the prospect of being able to get more involved, a chance to finally go beyond carrying messengers; he gave a quick nod before dashing out in a rush much to Sinclair’s surprise
Outside of the cottage though, a figure sat within the darkness, observing as the messenger as he took his leave; the figure, clad in Multi-Layered Robes, with heavy but typical pants with sturdy boots; a hood pulled up over his head with a strange, experimental body armour over his chest – resting on his back was a Kadochi Short-Sword , while lower on the back of his waist was a holstered Kukri Curved-Knife barely hiding the presence of a Mauser C96 Pistol – Astor.
Astor simply stood with an eerie stillness, as he shifted his gaze towards the cottage, his eyes momentarily narrowing before he slowly turned away, his dark figure disappearing into the darkness.
Lancashire, East of Lancaster
Within the chosen privacy of a ruined barn, Norina was sat patiently, her small frame perfectly still – this had been a request made to her that she simply found herself obeying eagerly and happily; Erin Mason – Erin was like a ghostly figure, a woman with an ethereal quality, her Long Black Hair stood in direct contrast to her Pale skin with her intense emerald green eyes and deceptively angelic face – Erin was engrossed in her drawing, typically Erin so often had a fascination for the grim and macabre, but within the present moment, it was Norina that held her attention.
Her eyes shifted back and forth between the drawing and Norina; she was drawing with carefully, slowly “Hold still My Little Dove” Erin murmured; her voice a soft silken murmur “I am almost done” she practically purred, a sly grin forming
Norina, ever obliging, kept the request pose with a faint smile – she beginning to get an understanding on Erin in ways few others did; initially Norina’s first interaction had been marked as a terrifying encounter, the intensity of their first interaction even if Erin was only initially fascinated by her twin-like appearance to Lydia, it was how Erin had approached, despite not physically touching or even threatening, her intense presence simply overwhelmed Norina who was soft often the most vulnerable of Cathryn’s group.
Erin’s fascination had initially began with an obsession over Lydia after encounter Lydia in Calais late in 1905 during Lydia and Cathryn initial escape from England – and that fascination only deepened, until 1909 when she discovered Norina, unlike so many others who mistook Lydia and Norina as twins or simply mistook one for the other; Erin identified Norina easily, the subtly difference in posture and the lack of confidence, it drew Erin in like a moth to a flame.
Now; the two had moved far beyond that initial encounter; Norina had already revealed her attraction to Erin, and even informed Cathryn who would approve provided Norina was certain on her choices, noting the dangers that could threaten such a bond – it allowed Norina to see beyond that unsettling darkness, that fascination with death; she could see the genuine care Erin harboured towards he.
Erin smiled; finally satisfied and gestured for Norina, a gentle almost proprietary motion “Come my Little Dove; come to me”
Norina rose up, her movement fluid as she quickly settled herself into Erin’s lap; enveloped in a gentle, protective embrace as Erin’s arms wrapped around her, a comforting warmth; then Erin turned the pad; she revealed the drawing – a drawing that captured Norina in astonishing detail.
Norina’s fingers, delicate and inquisitive, gently traced the lines on the paper, a soft gasp leaving her lips as her smile broadened, a genuine heartfelt expression of wonder “Erin…” she whispered, her voice filled with awe “È notevole….”
Erin’s smile was fragile, yet triumphant within the quiet, dusty corner – two unlikely souls that found solace.
Chapter 18:
The first rays of the dawn pale and tentative began seeping through the cracked of the dilapidated walls paintings streaks of muted gold across the dusty floor; Thomas stirred, a low groan escaping as a stiffness with his right arm protested his slight movement, for a moment he remained still; his senses still returning, but he quickly became aware of an insistent warmth resting against him – he opened his eyes, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep and found himself gazing aa cascade of Raven-Dark hair obscuring his vision.
It kicked in quickly then; Lydia – she was still there, exactly where she had fallen asleep only hours earlier; his focus honed in immediately, initially he was going to try and wake her, but he stopped; he hesitated, something else clicked into his head – how often does she actually get to sleep so peacefully, and for so long.
Typically, Lydia would be up and training, even after very little sleep, if she even had any – but here, her body was completely limp and pliant, she was slumped against him; he could feel her chest; the firmness pressing against his chest, her face buried in the curve of his shoulder; unlike how she had faced away after their kiss; her face was now direct towards him as if she had fallen asleep while watching him – her face was simply beautiful – innocent, a soft almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips, a sound of profound peace that Thomas rarely ever heard.
A gentle smile crossed his face, a warmth unfurling in his chest that had nothing to do with the chill of the morning air; he decided to simply wait longer; he savoured the unexpected intimacy, the weight of her, the quiet rhythm of her breathing; its warmth against his neck.
He would remain in that position for a considerable amount of time; simply watching her sleep, occasionally, his hand would finds its way upwards, to gently knead her hair gently; once he heard movement though outside of the privacy of their little sanctuary – he decided at that point it would be best to begin waking her; so he didn’t startle her, he moved a hand, gently, almost reverently – he began to rub his palm along her leg, a slow, deliberate motion intended to rouse her from her deep sleep.
A murmur would escape Lydia’s lip; a soft sound of protest as she shifted slightly, her head barely moved as her eyes began to slowly flutter open, unfocused and heavy with sleep; she blinked – once…, twice; awareness beginning to trickle into her mind.
The sensation of Thomas’ hand on her leg, the solid presence of his chest beneath her own, the unfamiliar warmth of his lap beneath her – it all registered, slowly, confusingly – she could feel the fabric of that military jacket he wore against her cheek, she picked up on his scent, with a jolt, the compromising position she was in finally snapped her eyes open fully.
Her eyes immediately fixed onto Thomas’ due to directly facing him, she felt the bloom in her cheeks – he was watching her, his smile present with a flicker of something she couldn’t quite decipher passed through his eyes; possibly a hint of amusement, or maybe a subtle tension “Morning” he murmured; his voice a soft rumble, he was purposely trying to keep his expression neutral – though, there was also the hint of a blush touching his own face, he knew the situation could become awaked very quickly, perhaps even distressing for someone unversed in tender intimacy like Lydia “We should probably get up before someone finds us”
Lydia’s cheeks already a faint rose deepened to a fiery crimson – the very suggestion that they could be discover in such a state sent an alarm through her as she mumbled incoherently, a mix of embarrassment and confusion as she began to shift, preparing to extricate herself from his lap – as she moved though, still somewhat disorientated, her gaze dropped inadvertently, catching the tell-tale sign of a bulge beneath the fabric of his trousers.
Her brow furrowed as her eyes lingered for a moment – a questioning, utterly innocent look now on her face; this was something she had never learnt about, her training may have shown her pressure points, or places to kill – but, the subtle, natural phenomenon of ‘Morning wood’ was entirely outside of her realm of understanding, a physical manifestation of an intimacy she had never experienced, alien and completely perplexing.
Thomas; ever astute caught her gaze, his smile widened slightly, almost imperceptibly – a knowing crinkle at the corners of his eyes, he quickly masked it, offering a light-hearted distraction “Perhaps we should get and join the others to get something to eat; I’m quite famished, I suspect, you will be too; hmm?”
As he began to rise upwards; he gently lifted her with him; though once she was at her full height; her still rose above her; his height immediately asserting itself, Lydia still flustered followed his movements with her eyes, her gaze tracing the line of his body as he gained his full height – he offered a hand which she took after some hesitation “Come on then; let’s go join the others eh?”
Lydia simply gave a slow nod before they began moving.
Chapter 19:
As the morning progressed a chaotic energy would unfold as the barely standing ruins creaked and groaned – slowly though it was being turned from a potential hazard into a functional safehouse – doors were secured, windows boarded up; makeshift beds arranged in chosen places to seek privacy, it was during this general disorganised activity that a pocket of boisterous camaraderie erupted out near one of the larger ruined brick buildings.
Thomas alongside Miquel a Kenyan born British soldier who had served within the same regiment as Thomas under their unconventional commander – then there was the Ex-Serbian Soldier; Damir, a man who had been amongst Cathryn’s group before Thomas and Miquel had joined the group fully in 1909.
They had spent time that morning running a patrol around the new perimeter to ensure safety, the three with their shared military histories and boisterous camaraderie fell into a familiar physical exertion – stripped of their jackets, with muscle now visible under their shirts, they challenged each other with good natured taunts and bellows of effort.
Miquel; his dark skin gleaming with sweat, effort hoisted up a heavy, rusted plough wheel above his head for the count of ten before dropping it down and yelling in triumph; Thomas sat on a nearby box with a wide grin; Damir, he grunted with effort, attempting to match Miquel his Serbian strength tested to its limits “Ah; Push-Ups; push-ups mate!” Thomas declared as he got up before dropping downward as Damir quickly accepted the challenge also dropping down; the two moved fluidly “Hundred?”
“Nah; Two-Hundred!” Miquel chimed as he moved quickly between them and counting quickly “Come on; come on!” he encouraged them with a wide smile
Thomas smirked as he kept moving his body in that repeated motion his eyes locked onto Damir as he raised faster than the Serbian “Gotta be better mate, gotta be better” he grinned
“I’ll catch up; you had a head start” Damir grinned in response
The air was filled with grunts; the rhythm push-and-pull of bodies against gravity, the occasional burst of laughter; the display of camaraderie; of pure unadulterated masculine energy, it drew Lydia’s attention; she stood near a crumbling doorway, she was initially trying to get a wooden door out of the way; but her eyes were unmistakably fixed onto the three men, or rather; specifically onto Thomas.
That same blush had found itself to her face again, faint and undeniable – it bloomed within her cheeks as she watched him, she observed the flexing of his arms, focused on the intensity of his eyes as he pushed himself, the easy, genuine smile he shared with Miquel and Damir; a strange flood of new emotions had been stirring with her earlier that morning, and still hadn’t dissipated, she didn’t understand them, but she was accepting them, and they had become intertwined with a nascent, undeniable attraction – he had stopped being a simple mission partner, he was becoming something more to her – he was alluring.
So engrossed was she in her staring; she failed to detect someone approaching yet again, it was only once a cool voice spoke directly beside her ear, she snapped her focus “Losing focus Sister dear?”
Lydia simply jumped, an involuntary gasp escaping her lips as she spun to find Elizabeth standing there; she stood remarkably still, her subtly grin present on a usually uncaring face, her eyes usually glacial and icy, now glinted with amusement – Lydia’s gaze flickered back from Elizabeth towards the three men who had now become engaged in fierce pull-up competition on a sturdy beam – Thomas had his chin above the beam when she caught him looking at her – he offered a quick, charming grin before he returned his attention to the challenge “I…” Lydia stuttered, though the blush on her cheeks intensified
Elizabeth couldn’t help be chuckle – she had never witnessed such a drastic change in one person – Lydia had gone from Timid Child, that once screamed in terror due to their brutal Cultist education; so often involved animal torture and killings, the chronic nightmares that left her screaming into the night – the constant state of terror as she was forced to watch their father brutalize their own mother – to become a Human Weapon – she was so fierce, so detached and nearly impossible to read – now…, now she was acting like a teen experiencing an unforbidden love for the first time, though that wasn’t too far from the truth.
Elizabeth did recognise Lydia’s lack of intimacy – unlike Elizabeth who, as the ‘Loyal Daughter’ had the advantage of learning the intricacies of social interaction amongst the powerful and wealthy – Lydia, after her 1905 escape from the Smythe Estate had spent most of her time constantly on the run with their move seeking to interfere with Cultist operations where they could; despite it all though, that rivalry – Elizabeth had found herself acting as the older sibling once again overseeing her less experienced sibling learning “You seem so…, captivated dear sister” she paused, her gaze sweeping over the scene, an uncharacteristic and almost predatory grin slowly spreading across her face “Though, I admit, it isn’t exactly a bad sight to watch”
Lydia’s gaze returned back to her sister; astonished by the rare moment of shared, if somewhat cynical appreciation – Elizabeth, ever the calculating observer, had noticed and for once, she was just detached; she was almost…, teasing – it made Lydia realise just how complicated their world really was.
In the quieter part of the reorganised dilapidated farm – the beginnings of a functional Safehouse had begun taking shape due to the efforts mostly from Thomas, Miquel and Damir – Cathryn, sat within the confines of one of the rooms of on the makeshift bed made of star and salvaged blankets was lay within the quiet as her adoptive daughter; Norina checked the bruising around Cathryn’s ribs which was still prominently visible – the young woman’s brow was furrowed with concern “Mamma, ti stai sforzando troppo” Norina said softly – commenting on Cathryn’s insistent efforts to try getting back to moving around despite worsening her condition “Per Favore Mamma; stop” she shifted her eyes to look into Cathryn, her concern was palpable
Taking a short intake Cathryn gave a slight not before gently moving to cup her Norina’s face, stroking her fingers lightly “Okay Petal; I will try”
Stood nearby, Erin observed the two as she waited on Cathryn’s signal to resume providing the latest information she had gathered; she shifted though towards the bed when seeing the efforts to help Cathryn sitting up, providing an extra hand in helping, her eyes shifting to Norina as her hand moved once Cathryn gave a slight now and a smile – Erin hand momentarily stroked Norina’s face before her attention returned to Cathryn – Cathryn after a moment gestured for Erin to continue “From the information I gathered early this morning during my stop at Cloughton; it seems there has been an increase in Cultist activity…, and…, unfortunately; Police cooperation, it appears that Sinclair is using his Political influence to turn the loss of his enforcer to draw in Police”
Erin paused a moment taking a second to let Cathryn take in the information before she resumed “I have also acquired…” Erin stopped again as she withdrew a telegram from the inside of her coat, turning it over to Cathryn “Very… ‘Politely’ acquired this…, it seems, during our initial time in Kirkland, Cultists had been exchanging more information about their discovery in French Mauritania, the telegram here as you see…, it details the deaths of French ‘Hunters’ by Edward MacQuoid”
Cathryn’s eyebrow rose a moment “I recognise that name” she said with a shift in her expression, a seriousness or perhaps simply trying to think, to remember why the name sounds familiar
“You should do; he was one of the Cultists that had ambushed you in Siam last year” Erin said with her gaze remaining on Cathryn “That incident that saw the Cultist Albert capture Lydia”
Cathryn shifted her attention; she remembered the ambush in Siam – it had followed their failed efforts to strike at Cultist operations within Australia, they had been forced to flee, in an effort to reach a safehouse in India, they had decided to travel through Siam to Burma and into the British Raj – they had been ambushed, initially led by British Cultist brothers Bartholomew and Jack, but during her own initial capture with Elizabeth – they encountered a rather sadistic Cultist and a French woman; Joséphine – though, they seemed to show little regard for the Cultist operation intent of capturing Cathryn’s group, though her mind shifted to her terror of Lydia’s capture – how Albert, under an arrangement with George was to lead Lydia into a forced marriage.
That entire effort proved a horrifying ordeal; if it hadn’t been for a betrayal amongst the Cultists during Albert’s effort to transport Lydia to Burma; Lydia’s escape would have never happened – or rather, her rescue by Thomas wouldn’t have happened after Lydia’s fall into a river following being caught by a bullet to her side – it had proved the most changing moment for Lydia and Thomas; while bound and unable to escape from the rushing torrent, Thomas had dived in, ignoring orders to rescue Lydia – and when he had, it was the first real time Lydia had experienced a desperate need to be physically close to him, even once she had reached the safety of the muddy bank.
Cathryn slowly gave a nod of her head “I remember now”
“I would suggest we respond with great care with regards to Sinclair; his growing agitation may prove dangerous for us” Erin said, her eyes shifting towards Norina then back to Cathryn who simply gave a slight nod of her head
Chapter 20:
In the late evening; Xian – a Manchurian from the Great Qing, a man who’s demeanour simply screamed discipline and order, wearing the traditional attire of his homeland, arrived to the dilapidated farm, he had been the last to vacate their safehouse in Kirland, remaining behind to ensure nothing valuable was left, but also because he had already destabilised the group with regards to insulting Lydia – the reason for her solo mission in the first place after he had referred to her as incapable and simply a ‘Acting like a Teen Girl swooning at her first love’ along with a secondary comment accusing Lydia of adapting to traditional gender norms due to her vulnerability with Thomas.
Now arriving at the new safehouse, he gave an irritated look, he considered these rundown buildings a significant step backwards, believing it truly demonstrates the clinging to old methods, ignoring the fact it was him that had caused it.
Finding Cathryn, he finally approached, arriving just as she had finished a conversation with Elizabeth regarding needing a plan for Cloughton, despite having no context he immediately voiced his own opinion “Perhaps it would be better approaching the situation in Cloughton with restraint and subtlety”
Cathryn and Elizabeth shifted their attention to Xian as he continued “If it hadn’t have been for Lydia’s actions, perhaps things would still be on our favour, your injuries are really hindering our course of action, I should take control”
Cathryn’s eyes narrowed “Xian” her voice was low but carried an undeniable authority and steel “The current situation, this relocation and desperation we are now facing; is directly because of you, her only mistake was allowing your words to set her off”
Xian shook his head a moment “Perhaps…, you should actually pay attention to those with more experience; after all, you try to emulate my mother and her ‘Hunter’ tactics, you’re a copy, unlike my sister who actually understands our mothers legacy” Elizabeth spoke with a rather detached tone, though didn’t really pay much attention to him even as she spoke to him directly – her words though clearly cut, he went silent, he did recognise that as a truth, Cathryn was born and raised as a ‘Hunter’ even if she spent a longer period under Geroge’s control, she was undeniably a ‘Hunter’ and she along with the enigmatic simply known as ‘The Monk’ had trained Lydia to continue that same legacy – he only tried to copy
It was in that moment that Norina had arrived carrying her newly concocted poultice blend for Cathryn’s bruising, though she hesitated upon seeing Xian and feeling the tension within the air; Cathryn though smiled and gestured for her to come over – Norina moved rather quickly
Within the skeletal remains of a burnt husk of a long decaying old barn, a subtly echo of movement – heavy and purposeful, sounds indicating someone clearly putting effort into breaking something, Lydia.
Lydia had found herself restless and despite the dull ache in her arm, she desperately needed to do something, distract herself from her thoughts, so many things had been going through her head since watching Thomas competing with Miquel and Damir.
Initially, she had come into the barn just to wander around but…, her eyes – with the usual observation of a predator, had noticed something out of place; a section that indicated something partially hidden, now…, she had found herself trying to break floorboards with little success, she grunted with effort as she stamped her foot downwards, this repeated attempt though finally sent a jolt of pain through her ankle causing her to immediately stop and limp to the side using her left hand to punch the wooden beam in frustration.
“Need a hand?”
Lydia jumped, her head whipping around – Thomas stood just a few paces behind her, a faint smile playing on his lips, he had moved so quietly as he usually does, a trait she recognised as part of his training – though she became immediately aware of the rising flush of warmth in her cheeks, it had become a recurring thing now “Thomas…” she managed, her voice suddenly a little breathless, she quickly gave a nod and gestured towards where all her effort had been going “I can’t get to the box under the floor”
Thomas noticed the flush in her face and couldn’t help but smile, his eyes though moved to her directed gesture; moving towards it, he kneeled down to get a better look ”Ah…, right then, just a moment” straightening back up, he braced himself then copied the same movement Lydia had been trying; unlike Lydia though, his heavier stamp immediately smashed through the old boards causing wood to groan and shriek as the planks splintered before a resounding crack followed dust quickly billowed and momentarily obscured his vision.
Once the air cleared, he knelt down and reached into the newly made opening, feeling about “Got something…” he said with a slight grunt as Lydia moved to stand closer; Thomas found a metal handle and pulled – once…, twice…
Finally, after a forceful yank, Thomas pulled the chest free pulling the heavy chest upwards causing it to land with a heavy thud; Lydia looked at him, a warm, soft but genuine smile present “Show off…” she quipped, her voice unexpectedly light
Thomas simply chuckled; a deep resonant sound that made Lydia’s smile wider “Only for you Lydia” he gestured to the chest “Shall we?”
The chest was made of dark, heavy wood; bound with tarnished iron straps, it bore the marks of age and struggle but remarkably, was intact; it took them effort but together they would pry it open to discover an interior lined with old, worn velvet – nestled within was a collection of objects Lydia immediately recognised.
Chapter 21:
A Short Knife – its ceremonial design evident, other items included tools for breaking Victorian era-locks, but what truly caught her eyes, the three Elegantly designed Eggs, expertly crafted and polished with an intricate Celtic symbolism, these designs were very reminiscent of the same ‘Blinging Eggs’ she and her mother used; Hunter’s non-lethal weapon for blinding opponents, but, unlike Lydia’s purely designed for a weapon, her mother’s would also use the same design, as Cathryn told her; it allowed for a Hunter to recognise another, a symbol of loyalty to their disorganised groups.
“These are Hunter tools” Lydia said, her voice quiet, she then reached for the thick, leather-bound volume at the bottom at the bottom; a journal, its cover water-damaged and brittle, many of the pages fused together by time and the elements; carefully, painstakingly – she separated a few pages discovering a few still surprising preserved; her eyes scanned the dates “December…., 1872” she read aloud; she quickly connected the dots, her mother’s birth year, the 1872 Purge – when the British ‘Hunters’ were supposedly completely destroyed.
That realisation made her look around – they hadn’t stumbled on some abandoned farm; they’d stumbled on her mother’s birthplace, the same place that had experienced the collapse of the British ‘Hunters’ – Lydia looked towards Thomas “I think this is my Mum’s home…, a place that our legacy comes from”
The Farm was not just dilapidated; it was a tombstone, a silent monument of a massacre – if it was truly what she suspected, it could possible draw in the very forces they were trying to fight “Let’s go speak with your mum” Thomas said softly, Lydia gave a slow nod
Bringing their discovery to her mother, Cathryn’s reaction leads to a momentary freeze; the spectre of the purge, an event she had no memory of but knew of through her parents, and now; sitting on the very land of her birth left Cathryn silent…, she wasn’t sure how to process the information as she gently turned the Ornate Eggs in her fingers – her eyes fixed on the journal’s last entry, it was a raw desperate message of someone that would most likely have lost their life not long after there entry, a nameless individual she will never know – Norina sensed the shift in her adoptive mothers demeanour, just as Lydia and Elizabeth did, unlike Elizabeth who maintained that usual cold detachment; Lydia and Norina would try to at least ease the feelings that were becoming evident.
French Mauritania
The air of the cavernous chamber of the ancient temple was thick with the scent of pulverised sandstone, over these past few days ‘The Roosters’ had made significant advanced, now…, they had finally breached the main chamber – the inside though was not what they was expecting, within was no Ancient Prison or any indicator of such a place, what was present was a place clearly intended to be used a repository of ancient knowledge long forgotten.
“This is no Prison” Joséphine stated in frustration, the hopes had been so high, that they could finally liberate the Ancient Being from his prison; but now, they had once again met a dead end, the wrong place “Hours of deciphering those infernal scrawls!” she snapped “And all we find is a damned Bibliothèque”
Edward stepped into the chamber, his arms resting behind his back as his eyes scanned their discovery “Fret not my dear” he murmured, there was more of an intrigue for Edward as his eyes drifted “It is a disappointment, I agree; but…, this is still a boon”
Joséphine looked towards her husband with a confused expression “We continue to hit dead ends; and you think this is…, a victoire?”
“Indeed” he let his lips take on that same reptilian smile that so often appears in his features “The knowledge here, it is as you say; a library, and this is perhaps the biggest repository of ancient knowledge we have ever uncovered, imagine what it may reveal; my dear, we may have just set the wheels in motion for the greatest victory the Imperium will have that may in fact see the Ancient Master freed in our lifetime, we should prepare it for transportation to England”
“Angleterre?” she questioned “Surely you mean New York, it is after all where our Elected Leader resides with majority of the Imperium’s council”
Edward offered a humourless smile “New York, to Victor; my dear, Victor is not a man of great power, George Smythe runs this Imperium, he provides the funding, the political influence and the aid of Criminal undercurrents that enable so much of our success, not Victor; it would be a better decision to send everything to him than a man who would squander the opportunity”
There was a flicker of annoyance that crossed Joséphine’s face – a momentary crack within her façade of cold composure; her loyalty to the Imperium was fierce and unyielding, so often did ‘The Roosters’ clash against the Cult of the Minotaur, but, Edward was her husband, a man despite appearance, was who she care most deeply for, slowly she began to nod, but a sharp crack rang out, a distant sound from the outside, but it was unmistakable – gunfire.
The first crack of a rifle; sharp and loud, a piercing noise against the vast empty canvas of the desert, the encampment of the Cultists was brought to full attention once that sentry fired, attention was drawn to a mysterious figure that was descending from a hill overlooking the encampment “Halte!, Qui va là?” the sentry bellowed, his voice hoarse “Arrêtez-vous”
The figure, cloaked in robes of an alien design that seemed to absorb the light of the sun simply ignored the command; continuing at a measured, deliberate walk down the incline, each step silent on the shifting sand, Cultists exchanged wary glances – this figure was not normal, most would stop under gunfire; another shot rang out as Edward and Joséphine just in time to see the figure struck by the second shot, a gasp quickly rung out.
The figure stopped, but only momentarily, the head tilted ever so slightly as if an annoying insect had merely buzzed too close, then, unnervingly – resumed its slow walk.
The movement ignited a panic as the air echoed with more rifle fire.
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