Their boots tapped against the slick, discolored metal as they walked in a line over a giant pipe suspended over the dark abyss.

  Guided only by Edmund’s lantern they carefully made their way across. Wretch hung limply over Elenya’s broad shoulder, like a sack of wheat.

  “Careful here, it's slippery,” Edmund said from the front.

  From his vantage point, Wretch peeked down into the dark to his left. They had survived the fight, but any carelessness here could still be the end of them.

  “Captain, if you don't mind,” Wretch said. “Since you began as a hunter, how many blessed have you seen die?”

  “Twenty one…” Edmund said without a moment of hesitation.

  Wretch furrowed his brow. “Is that a lot?”

  Astrid was walking with wide steps behind them, eyes trained straight to the ground.

  “I suspect it’s actually below average,” she said while completely focused on her feet, “from the rumors, crews lose about one hunter every nine months. We are the branch with the most casualties compared to the church and the army.”

  Elenya growled.

  “For the love of the Saint, girl. Focus on your bloody feet, and you,” Elenya said and gave him a look. “You talk too much for dead weight.”

  Wretch scoffed, and let his head rest against the cold metal of her armor.

  A sound tickled his senses. Another handful of rhythmic beatings.

  “Footsteps, up above to our left, one hundred meters.” He said, the muscles under Elenya’s armor twitching.

  Edmund stopped and raised his lantern.

  “Human?” He asked

  “Sounds like it,” Wretch answered as he strained his neck to look at the source. Another light grew out from the abyss, illuminating another bridge-like pipe far above.

  “Could be hunters…” Astrid said cautiously. “Or something else?”

  “Who goes there?” Edmund called out, his voice reverberating a dozen times.

  The light stopped its trail. And from the edge of the pipe three hooded figures peeked down at them.

  “Hmmm,” a rough voice called out from under the hood. “Who is brave enough to crawl through the underbelly?”

  “We’re hunters from the Richters company, in the name of the Saint… identify yourself!”

  “Ahh, that explains it,” said the voice. “Say, you haven’t happened on a lost man, my cousin snuck in here, and we are trying to find him.”

  “That doesn’t sound believable in the slightest,” Astrid answered.

  From the pipe the three figures stood on, Wretch heard another sound. He put a hand to his ear.

  It was a muffled plea.

  “There is someone else up there.” He said to the group, “I think they’re restrained.”

  “Human smugglers.” Astrid said.

  The figures talked in hushed tones between themselves, then nodded in unison. One removed the hood, revealing a bone white mask, frozen in a manic laugh. The figure held out a hand, pointing towards them, and he looked to struggle beneath a heavy weight.

  "What's he doing?" Elenya asked.

  A tiny spark of electricity jumped along his forearm. It spun around his hand, growing in strength and speed.

  “Thats not good,” Wretch answered.

  “Run!” Edmund ordered.

  They spun around and sprinted across the narrow bridge. Then, a white light pierced the darkness.

  With a deafening crack and the screech of warping metal the pipe shook. Wretch shielded his eyes and his ears rang, Elenya shouted something but he couldn’t hear what.

  Behind him, Astrid was running with wide open eyes, her dagger discarded as the metal trembled beneath their feet.

  “You missed,” a hooded figure with a female voice said from far above. Both of her hands clutching her ears.

  “Tsk, it's harder than it looks,” The laughing mask said as another burst of lightning arched between his fingers.

  Down below, the end of the pipe and solid ground became visible in front of Edmunds lantern.

  Another deafening crack and flash of lightning.

  The pipe groaned.

  Wretch looked behind him, the section behind Astrid plummeted into the dark. Elenya threw herself towards solid ground as Wretch reached out a hand, the ground falling beneath them all.

  The massive pipe vanished, followed by a series of screeching crashes down below.

  At the edge, Elenya was hanging onto one hand, clutching Wretch’s ankle, who in turn was holding on to Astrid’s wrist with a monstrous clawed hand.

  “I guess that answered where the victim came from.” Astrid said, dangling off the cliff.

  Wretch groaned under her weight. “Not the time Astrid, not the time.”

  Out of earshot from even Wretch’s sensitive ears stood the three figures with hoods and masks. A fourth figure bound and gagged with thick chains that moved as if alive.

  One was clutching his singed left hand, smoke swaying from the burned flesh.

  “We’ll have to change our route.” Said the tallest of the three. A longsword slung over his shoulder and a furious mask covering his face.

  “Maybe we can ambush them,” said a female voice under a shy mask.

  The man in the furious mask shook his head.

  “The hunters here are not easy prey, they have fought far more horrors than we.”

  The man with the burnt hand and laughing mask groaned. “Did you see the wounds on that tiny one, he must have a healing blessing.”

  “Yes, maybe we should look into that. The Richters company, huh?”

  “We should have brought more lamps,” Astrid said, leaning on the rough kitchen table with a cup of steaming tea served from one of the twins. A bandage around her wrist.

  “The poor vision made it difficult to gauge the strength of the enemy.” She continued with a steady voice.

  Elenya stroked the purring cat, Whisky, laying belly up in her arms. “And we should have cleared an escape route, kicked the doors down on the way in.” She said with a shrug.

  It had taken them several hours to find their way back to the surface and just as long to write the report to the Hunters bureau. In addition, they all were made to sign long documents to not speak of what they had seen. Secrets beneath the streets of the city.

  Edmund nodded and rubbed his temple with a frown. “We should have kept to our strategy. We’re an aggressive team with healing capabilities. If we’d charged him together, we'd have come out ahead.” He said.

  A series of pops and cracks sounded from Wretch’s shoulder. All eyes turned to him, his face contorted in silent anguish.

  “What are you doing?” Astrid said “I just finished healing you.”

  Elenya let out a laugh.

  “He said he’d steal the bones.”

  Wretch opened his eyes. His pupils lit with fading fire.

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  “One arm all done!” He said with a wide smile, rolling his shoulders. “Man it hurt, but they feel really sturdy.”

  He cleared his throat, regaining some composure.

  “Elenya, could you try and break my arm?” He said, extending the wrist of his clawed hand over the steaming tea-cups.

  The redhaired woman reached over the table without hesitation.

  Edmund caught her hand.

  “Permission denied.”

  Elenya and Wretch both frowned while Astrid shook her head in disbelief.

  “Kid,” the captain said. “The mission, how did it go?”

  “Umm. I think it went great...”

  “Little man.” Elenya said. “You got turned into a pincushion. How is that great?”

  “What do you mean, we won, I got some bones and I was a good scout!” Wretch answered, flexing his clawed hand and moving it in different directions.

  Edmund gave a slow laugh, the lethargy from the day showing.

  “You are something, anyway the Bureau is looking into the activity of the smugglers, they might even send a Blaze down there.”

  “But this should be an eye-opener to all of us, we nearly perished twice tonight, we have to be more prepared,” Edmund said with a smile.

  “Then we should ramp up the training, not just for the rat but for all of us, even you Astrid,” Elenya said, answered by a groan from the tiny healer.

  Wretch yawned, the wounds on his body now healed but the scars felt tight as he stretched.

  “First thing in the morning?” He asked Elenya.

  “That’s the spirit! Elenya said and ruffled Astrid's hair. “Learn from your junior, miss second in command.”

  “We will swing by the munitions bureau in fourteen days.” Edmund said with a yawn of his own. “They hold a bi-monthly auction where they’ll sell our spoils, or maybe something catches our eye. It’s called the hunter’s feast. The kid has been hounding me about meeting others in our line of work.”

  “The hunter’s feast?” Wretch asked.

  “It is where the munitions bureau facilitates the buying and selling of blessed weapons between hunters.” Astrid answered with a sullen tone, still not over the impending training.

  “Where do blessed weapons come from anyway?” Wretch asked.

  “They say some Blessed can produce them.” Edmund answered. “And even then, it is at an enormous cost. Right Astrid?”

  Astrid stared down her cup.

  “Astrid?”

  She sighed.

  “A normal weapon can also become Blessed just like a person can, but I am not sure exactly how that works. That knowledge isn't available to Embers and Firelings.”

  Elenya held up the orange cat.

  “By the Saint Astrid, it's just a little training.”

  Wretch however was clutching the worn dagger in his belt. A pondering look on his face.

  “So if I use my dagger for long enough, it could become Blessed?”

  “It’s very rare, but yes,” she replied.

  “Can’t you just equip someone with a bunch of them?” Wretch asked.

  “Apparently, if you wear more than three, they interfere with each other. Besides, they all have different downsides, even if most can be mitigated,” Astrid replied

  “I have never been to the Hunter’s feast! Imagine me with a Blessed weapon. I would be unstoppable,” Elenya said to the orange cat.

  The conversation continued, as Elenya teased Astrid about all the pushups she was going to do and the twins talked about their day, strangely at ease with the thought of their father having almost died.

  The fatigue from their last excursion caught up with them and they all retired after the twins and Wretch cleaned the tables.

  In his room, Wretch undressed and picked away a few stubborn scabs from his now healed wounds. He looked at his clawed hand, opening and closing it.

  It was a little heavier after changing the bones, but not by much.

  He couldn't wait.

  Walking to the far wall he pulled air into his lungs. He coughed as loudly as felt appropriate and slammed his fist against the stone. It thumped against the rock, the sound masked by his cough.

  He gritted his teeth and listened, no one seemed to notice.

  Bloody hurts. He thought and inspected the clawed hand. The knuckles were bruised and the pinky stood at an odd angle.

  Not unbreakable. But definitely strong. I’ll change the rest of them tomorrow but try and keep my height the same.

  With a trickle of his last flame the wound and fracture healed. The depth of his flame had decreased somewhat from the use of Flesh stealer but it was off-set by kindling.

  Well worth it.

  This low on flame the whispers had grown, but he pushed them away and crawling into bed, he reached under his mattress, feeling a leather pouch laying on the metal framework. He pulled it out, emptying the coins on the white sheets.

  He started counting on his fingers, just like Astrid had taught him.

  “Twelve pounds and seven pence,” he said to himself.

  Before he could only count to ten. Now he could go all the way to a hundred, and even read. Still he didn’t have any leads on his father. He’d try to change that tomorrow.

  He was learning fast, both the business of Hunters, but perhaps also, that of humans.

  Just like his father had urged him in his only words, he was taking his first struggling steps towards the summit of the Blessed.

  Next time, he was planning to show that he could be more than a scout, or a last ditch gamble.

  Waking up in the darkness, he turned sleepily. Creaking and shifting weight came from the kitchen and he opened his eyes. Awoken by his sensitive ears.

  Heavy steps, Elenya…?

  He turned as wooden steps groaned on the other side of the wall.

  Down the stairs, what’s that about?

  Moonlight bled through the window, painting the room in blue light. It must have been close to midnight. From below the floorboards, came a rhythmic thumping.

  Training room!

  Carefully he got out of bed, still wearing the oversized shirt he’d fallen asleep in. He snuck into the common-room. Two gleaming cat eyes looked at him from the dinner table and he froze.

  Whisky gave a faint meow.

  The cat watched as he straightened a clawed finger to his lips, and signaled discretion.

  Wretch continued down the stair, holding on to the railing to avoid any noise. The outside door was closed, as was the opposing one, leading to the training room. Muffled voices came from within.

  He pressed his ear against the wood, eavesdropping with his inhuman hearing.

  Elenya’s voice was faint.

  “Good movement and strikes,” she said. “But take a longer step forward when you do that piercing jab.”

  “Thank you for the remarks.” Edmund’s voice answered, his tone was colder than he had ever heard the man. If Elenya had descended the stairs, she couldn’t have been inside for more than a minute. He heard a sigh.

  “I figured you would be here, you know,” Elenya’s voice began. so soft he was unsure if it was truly her. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

  A pause. Then Edmund answered, “we almost died, everyone of us… because I hesitated. Had we gone on the offensive against the corpse, found solid ground against the smugglers. But instead, it almost cost us everything.”

  Elenya clicked her tongue.

  “And yet, we're all alive.”

  Edmund chuckled “Thanks to the heroics of the kid, who got impaled for his efforts and you who caught their fall. I was that close to losing another two Hunters, like I have many before…”

  “That’s the thing Cap. I caught them, and the kid could heal the wounds.”

  It was quiet for a moment before Elenya spoke again, this time her tone was almost a plea.

  “What I’m trying to say is, sure last night wasn’t perfect, but we lived and we learned, we’ll improve because of it.” She continued.

  He heard a long exhale, and when Edmund spoke, some tension was gone.

  “You learn more from a failure than a dozen victories.”

  A low female laugh resounded.

  “Finding it hard to live as you teach, old man?”

  “He is quite the pick up though, isn’t he?” Edmund said, dodging the question.

  He heard Elenya’s feet tap on the stone.

  “He is pathetically small and weak.” Elenya answered. “No sense of self preservation. Must be why the flame gave him the ability to heal…”

  Wretch, crouched outside the door, could feel his cheeks turn hot.

  “But, the little maniac has a killer instinct and some useful blessings. I will give him that.” Elenya continued and Wretch imagined her shaking her head.

  “You are too harsh.” Edmund said, his voice back to normal. “With support, he will grow into a fine hunter. I will make sure he receives it. Saint knows he’s gotten none before.”

  Elenya’s voice let up.

  “There he is! Good to have you back captain, spar?”

  “Sword, dagger or fist?”

  “Your pick old man.”

  “Sword then.”

  From behind the door, thuds of wooden swords and fast footwork soon echoed.

  Wretch snuck his way back up to the common room with red cheeks while biting his lip, stopping only to pet the watchful Whisky. The cat had become another creature entirely, vigilant like an officer in a busy marketplace.

  He closed his door quietly, moving back into the embrace of sheets and quilts. He had thought of Edmund like a monolith that would never change his ideals.

  I guess he is human too, he thought as he was ushered to sleep by the low repeating beat of wood hitting wood. Thoughts of blessed weapons and armor filling his mind.