Mother of Midnight

Chapter 215 – Acting Career

“I think we are being followed,” Caelum said as they sprinted through the dense forest.

“No shit,” Vivienne replied dryly, her eyes locked ahead as she weaved through the trees with practiced ease.

For three relentless days, they had been running, stopping only in short bursts to let the goblins rest. Even Caelum had needed sleep, though he stubbornly fought against it. Vivienne carried the little ones on her back, their tiny hands clinging to her as she moved with unnatural endurance. She could feel the weight of their exhaustion, the strain of their journey pressing against her like an invisible burden. But stopping for too long wasn’t an option.

They had no choice but to steal supplies from a village along the way—though "steal" was a harsh word for it, at least in Vivienne’s mind. The villagers had enough to spare, and she had taken only what was necessary. It had been laughably easy; they had no defenses against something like her. The only real resistance had come from Caelum, who had protested in that self-righteous way of his. But even he couldn’t argue with starving goblins.

“It was either that or let them go hungry,” she had told him flatly. "Unless you planned on making food out of nothing?"

Caelum had relented after that. Begrudgingly.

Now, though, there was a more pressing issue.

“I mean I think there are people close—on our tail,” Caelum said, his voice edged with unease. “I am certain they have an exomancer casting some sort of tracking spell.”

“How do you know?”

“My lady told me.”

Vivienne didn’t slow but she rolled her five eyes. “Are they gaining?”

“I can’t tell. I think they might be considering our day camps.”

That was bad.

If their pursuers were taking the time to investigate the places they had stopped, that meant they weren’t just tracking them. They were studying them. Figuring out their patterns. Planning.

Vivienne’s lips curled slightly, revealing a sharp hint of teeth. “Then we need to make sure they regret it.”

“I… agree,” Caelum said hesitantly, his expression tight with uncertainty.

Vivienne didn’t slow her pace. “Do you want to take care of it, or should we stop here and deal with it together?”

“I can take care of it,” he said, though there was a note of doubt buried beneath his words.

“Good.” Her ears flicked back, listening for any sign of their pursuers. “I want to stay with my daughter. We’ll go a few hours—I mean two bells—further today. If you’re not there by the time we move again, I’ll take a slower pace in the same direction.”

Caelum glanced at her, his blue eyes softening. “Thank you. See you soon.”

Vivienne didn’t reply. She didn’t need to. She simply surged forward, muscles coiling and releasing in a steady, tireless rhythm. The wind howled past her, rustling the branches above as she navigated the dense undergrowth with ease.

Caelum would handle it. If he didn’t, she would.

Caelum was about to turn and confront their pursuers directly, but another idea took root—a riskier one, but possibly more effective. Instead of stopping, he let his pace falter, just enough that those trailing them would catch up, but not so much that it looked intentional. He wanted them to see him still in pursuit, as though he, too, were tracking something ahead.

The moment he released his speed augment, a wave of exhaustion hit him like a hammer. His muscles burned in protest, his lungs heaved, and his steps grew heavier. He had talked big about keeping up with Vivienne, but gods, she could really run. More than that, she didn’t stop. While he needed rest—short breaks to keep his body from collapsing under the strain—she never did. She ran tirelessly, unrelenting, a creature made for the hunt.

Still, it was nice of her to say she’d wait for him. He knew she meant it. Not as much of a monster as she claimed.

His breath evened out as he slowed to a stop, crouching beside one of Vivienne’s tracks. The imprint was massive, her claws having gouged deep into the soft earth. Far larger than any wolf’s paw should be, but that didn’t surprise him. The real surprise was the sheer depth of it. Her claws weren’t just long—they were made to tear, to grip, to rend. Even her weight distribution suggested something unnatural, something that moved with power beyond simple muscle.

He wasn’t here to study Vivienne’s tracks, though. He was waiting.

It took more than three bells for their pursuers to catch up. That was longer than he expected, given the violent nature of their escape. Had they been hesitant to give chase? Or were they simply less competent than they thought? Either way, it worked in his favor.

Slipping through the gates had been easy. One flash of his emblem, a well-practiced air of authority, and a simple excuse—he was a paladin of Praxus, tracking a dangerous beast that had fled into the wilds. It was an infuriatingly useful lie, considering how much he despised Praxus. But being an apprentice had its perks, even if he would sooner die than truly dedicate himself to that hypocritical order.

A sharp voice cut through the quiet. “Halt!”

Caelum exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders before rising to his full height. He turned to face them with deliberate slowness, letting them get a good look at him.

There were four of them with weapons brandished. Dark leathers, practical gear, a variety of weapons strapped to their bodies—bows, daggers, short blades. Hunters. Not simple mercenaries or bandits. These were people who specialized in hunting aetherbeasts.

At the front of the group, and the source of the voice, stood a rough-looking woman. A jagged scar carved across her face, splitting through her brow and down her cheek, the flesh puckered and uneven where it had healed poorly. Her right eye was missing, a dark, sunken void where it should have been, and her top lip had been split in two, leaving her mouth permanently crooked.

Caelum felt a slight turn in his stomach but kept his expression carefully neutral. He had seen plenty of injuries before—some fresher, some far worse—but there was something about the sheer violence of her scars that made him wary. Whoever had done that to her had meant to kill her, and somehow, she had walked away. That meant she was either very good at what she did or very, very hard to kill.

Her gaze bore into him, sharp and assessing, her one remaining eye glinting with suspicion.

"Identify yourself," she ordered, her voice edged like a blade, crisp and authoritative.

Caelum didn’t hesitate. He straightened his posture, squared his shoulders, and let his voice carry the weight of borrowed authority.

"I am Hada Kalas, Paladin of Praxus," he announced, steady and firm. "Who am I speaking with?"

He kept his breathing measured, his hands loose at his sides, but he was bracing himself. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut. The woman was glaring at him with such intensity that, for a moment, he thought she and her squad might attack him outright.

He was fairly certain he could take them if it came to a fight—he had enough raw power for that. But they were hunters, trained specialists in tracking and subduing creatures far deadlier than himself. And he was inexperienced. Being cocky would get him killed.

Then, after a long, suffocating pause, she lowered her weapon. But she didn’t put it away.

"Weska Yaran. Eighth Hunter Squad," she said, her tone still rough with suspicion. "I presume you’re hunting the same quarry."

Caelum tilted his head slightly, feigning mild interest rather than the sharp calculation going through his mind.

"Perhaps," he said smoothly. "What are you hunting?"

He had no idea how much they knew about the laboratory or if they even had the right target. That uncertainty was leverage—if they were after something else entirely, he might be able to redirect them. If they were after Vivienne… well, he’d cross that bridge when he had to.

Weska’s remaining eye narrowed slightly, as if weighing how much to reveal. Her lips pressed together, deepening the harsh lines of her face.

“A monster,” she said finally.

Not specific. That wasn’t good.

Caelum exhaled through his nose, affecting mild impatience. “That describes quite a few things. What kind of monster?”

Weska's gaze flicked over him, then toward the ground where he’d crouched earlier. She was sharp. Too sharp.

“An aetherbeast,” she said, still guarded. “Dangerous. Unnatural.”

His pulse quickened, but he didn’t let it show. Unnatural. That word carried weight, especially among hunters. Some aetherbeasts were treated as mere animals to be culled, but those deemed unnatural—twisted, aberrant things—were hunted with extreme prejudice.

And he knew exactly who they were talking about.

Caelum hummed thoughtfully, folding his arms. “Strange,” he said. “If such a thing were running loose, you’d think I would’ve been informed. And yet, I received no such report.”

Weska’s expression didn’t change, but her stance shifted just slightly—weight evenly distributed, a fighter’s readiness. “If you’re so well-informed, maybe you can tell us what left those tracks,” she said, nodding toward the deep gouges in the earth.

Weska’s expression soured, but she didn’t immediately dismiss the suggestion. Her single eye flicked over Caelum again, slower this time, as though reassessing him.

"Depends on your clearance," he said carefully. "The quarry I am tracking was involved in a high-profile incident. Do you have proof of your orders?"

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Then, the wiry man with the bow—lean and sharp-featured, his hair tied back in a loose tail—spoke up.

"He is a paladin of Praxus," he said, voice even. "Perhaps he could be useful."

Caelum didn’t let his relief show. Instead, he tilted his head, feigning curiosity as if he weren’t sweating under their scrutiny.

Weska’s lip curled slightly, her split top lip pulling unevenly. "Perhaps," she echoed, but there was no trust in her tone.

Still, she relented enough to reach into her belt pouch, producing a folded document sealed with wax. She didn’t hand it to him, though. Instead, she let him see it, turning it just enough that he could make out the emblem stamped into the wax—a stylized cog, wreathed in flame. The clergy did like to appropriate much of Yenhr’s imagery, didn’t they?

Official orders. Damn it.

"This comes from above," she said, voice low, dangerous. "Higher than you, paladin. We're to kill the beast, and anyone who stands in the way."

She let that sink in before tucking the paper away.

"So tell me, Hada Kalas," she continued, voice like a knife slipping between ribs. "Are you standing in the way?"

Caelum stood straighter, shoulders squared, and offered an easy, practiced smile—the kind meant to reassure, to disarm. “Of course not,” he said smoothly. “It does seem we are after the same quarry. I was dispatched almost as soon as the alarm was raised. I have been chasing it since.” He exhaled, as if weary from the pursuit, then added, “Something this dangerous should be taken on in numbers, should it not?”

Weska narrowed her single eye at him, weighing his words. Her fingers flexed against the worn leather of her weapon grip, but she didn’t immediately call him on his bluff.

“How dangerous is it?” she asked.

Caelum let out a low breath, as if considering his answer, before fixing his gaze on her. “You should know, if you were given the full details,” he said evenly. “It can change its shape. It can speak.” He kept his tone carefully neutral, but something in his gut twisted at the words. Calling Vivienne an it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he pushed past it. “It is cunning and immensely powerful. It cannot be underestimated.”

The wiry man with the bow muttered something under his breath, his grip on the weapon shifting slightly. Another hunter—a broad-shouldered woman with a wicked-looking hatchet strapped to her thigh—exchanged a glance with Weska. They had their own expectations about this hunt, and now Caelum had planted just enough doubt to make them rethink how prepared they really were.

Weska, though, remained unimpressed. She sneered, the jagged scar across her face pulling taut as she scoffed. “Fine,” she said. “But we will continue to do things our way.”

Her grip tightened on her sword, and she took a deliberate step closer, voice lowering to something almost mocking. “You may be a paladin, but I have killed creatures that would terrify greater men than you.”

She said it like a warning, like a dare.

Caelum moved aside, allowing the hunters to take the lead as they continued down the trail. He made sure to keep his pace steady, ensuring it looked as though he was carefully studying the tracks, but in reality, his knowledge of tracking was minimal at best. He could follow a trail—anyone could—but understanding the nuances of it, reading the land as Grunhilda could, was something he didn’t yet possess.

He smirked to himself, imagining her at his side. Grunhilda would have made this look effortless. She always knew what to look for, what to ignore, and what to use to her advantage. If he were with her now, she’d be showing him the way, guiding him like she had so many times before. Lorne, too, would be a help, though in a different manner—more focused, more analytical. And Briswen... She was a sharp one, if a bit more distant. The thought of them was a fleeting comfort.

He allowed his mind to wander briefly, wondering if they had made it to Serkoth by now. They’d been separated for some time, and he hoped they were safe, that they were doing what they needed to do. Caelum was looking forward to seeing them again. They were more than just fellow travelers—they were his family now. They understood him in a way most others couldn’t.

The day slipped into evening, the temperature dropping as the sun dipped below the horizon. The forest around them thickened, shadows stretching like dark fingers. Even with his enhanced sight, the darkness felt oppressive, like the land itself was waiting. Weska and her group were no strangers to these woods, but to Caelum, everything felt foreign. The crunch of their boots on the underbrush, the occasional snap of a twig in the distance, all heightened his senses, his body at the ready. The thought of Vivienne and what she was capable of gave him a strange sense of urgency.

As night fully claimed the land, the group stopped to set camp. Weska immediately began organizing a fire while the others set up their gear. He could tell she was the type who thrived on routine, on precision—every move calculated, every motion purposeful. A life spent hunting, always looking for the next danger, always preparing for the next fight. Caelum couldn’t help but admire it.

It was clear that for the hunters, this wasn’t just a job—it was a way of life. An obsession, perhaps, but Caelum understood that. When one spent their life fighting creatures that didn’t think, didn’t care, but only hunted and killed without pause, obsession wasn’t just a luxury; it was a necessity. These hunters weren’t playing games—they were fighting to survive, and that gave them a different kind of edge. But they weren’t tracking a creature like Vivienne, were they? He wasn’t sure.

The fire crackled to life, the glow casting long shadows that danced on the trees. Weska turned toward him, her eyes hard and calculating.

“We will take the watch, paladin,” she said sharply, her voice firm and uncompromising.

Caelum gave a casual shrug, making sure his posture reflected indifference, but inwardly, he noted the unspoken challenge in her words. She didn’t trust him—not entirely—and that was fine. He didn’t trust them either, but his mind was elsewhere, focused on more pressing matters.

“Of course,” he said, his voice even, offering no further argument.

He had slept during the day. His body was accustomed to taking rest when needed, seizing the brief moments of peace where he could. But tonight, there would be no peace. He couldn’t afford the luxury of sleep, not while he was still considering what to do with them.

They needed to die tonight so he could catch up with the others.

Yenhr save him, he loathed to take lives. He’d deluded himself into thinking he would be a savior when he joined the military. He had believed in the oaths, in the righteousness of his cause. And yet, now, he had the blood of many of his countrymen on his hands. He had done what was necessary, what was required of him—but knowing that didn’t make it easier. And tonight, his hands would be stained further.

The thought settled heavy in his chest as he took a seat on a log near the fire pit. Weska had built it efficiently, as expected. The flames flickered, casting wavering shadows across the camp. He stared into them, watching as the wood crackled and collapsed in on itself, turning to embers.

“You look a bit young to be a paladin,” a voice cut through the quiet.

He turned slightly, finding the other woman, watching him as she gnawed on a strip of dried meat. She had a sharp, assessing look in her eye, the kind that suggested she was always measuring people, weighing their worth.

“Sorry, I didn’t get your name,” he said, tilting his head slightly, feigning politeness.

“I didn’t offer it.” She tore off another piece of jerky and chewed. “Janna.”

“Nice to meet you.” He offered a slight bow, just enough to seem respectful but not subservient. “I haven’t been a paladin for long. Just proved my worth enough times to graduate early, I suppose.”

Janna’s eyes narrowed slightly, skepticism flashing across her face. “Who’d you train under?”

Probing. He had expected this. He kept his expression neutral, casual, as if it was nothing more than small talk.

“Paladin Makiva.”

Janna clicked her tongue, thinking. “I’ve heard of her. Hard bitch, right?”

Caelum shot her a glare, a flash of indignation carefully placed. “You shouldn’t refer to a paladin like that.” Then, after a beat, he let his expression relax, exhaling as if letting the offense go. “But yes, she was a tough mentor. She would train me almost all day until she broke me. Then she healed me, and I repeated it the following day.”

Janna let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “That sounds like her.” She tossed a piece of jerky into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “She turned out some damn good fighters, though. If you survived training under her, you must be worth something.”

Caelum smiled, letting just the right amount of modesty show. “I’d like to think so.”

Janna grunted, apparently satisfied for now, and went back to her jerky. The quiet stretched, filled only by the occasional pop of burning wood and the distant rustling of the night.

A figure moved at the edge of the firelight, stepping in with an easy, unhurried gait. The wiry man who had spoken up earlier—the one with the bow—dropped down onto a nearby log, resting his weapon across his lap. He didn’t look at Caelum right away, instead turning his gaze to Janna.

“He giving you trouble?” he asked, voice light with amusement.

Janna smirked. “Nah. Just feeling him out.”

Caelum gave a polite chuckle. “I take it you’re doing the same?”

The man finally met his eyes. His features were sharp and weathered, his frame lean but well-muscled. A hunter’s build. He had the look of someone who’d spent most of his life out in the wilds, someone who moved with quiet confidence and knew how to kill without hesitation.

“Something like that,” he admitted. “Name’s Harlan.”

“Hada.” He extended a hand, which Harlan shook, firm but not overly forceful.

“I know,” Harlan said, releasing his grip. “Hard not to know when you’re a paladin of Praxus.”

There was no hostility in his tone, just an edge of curiosity.

Caelum studied him for a moment, then glanced at Janna. “You two been hunting together for long?”

Janna tilted her head. “Couple years. We were part of different bands before, but you work with enough of the same people, and eventually you find a crew you stick with.”

“Or the rest of them die,” Harlan added, his smirk turning grim.

Caelum kept his expression neutral. “Hazard of the job, I suppose.”

Harlan chuckled. “You could say that.” He shifted, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “So tell me, paladin—how does a man of the church handle hunting something like this? Something that talks?”

Janna glanced at him, brow raised slightly.

Caelum met Harlan’s gaze without hesitation. “With purpose. It’s a monster, no matter what words come from its mouth.”

Harlan chuckled, tapping his fingers idly against the wood of his bow. “Good answer. Thought a paladin might get squeamish about hunting something that talks.”

Caelum shook his head. “I was trained to deal with all kinds of creatures. Just because something can speak doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous.”

Harlan gave a slow nod, clearly satisfied, then leaned back. “You ever hunt aetherbeasts before?”

Caelum hesitated for the barest fraction of a second before answering. “A few.”

Janna scoffed. “Figures. You lot deal with the occasional corrupted monster, but proper hunting? That’s a different beast.” She chewed on another strip of jerky and waved vaguely at the darkness beyond the firelight. “Tracking something smart, something that can shift its shape, leave false trails? It’s not the same as killing some rampaging freak that stumbled into a village.”

Harlan smirked but said nothing.

Caelum let out a short laugh. “I don’t doubt it. You all clearly know what you’re doing.”

Janna gave him a sideways look. “You say that like you’re trying to butter us up.”

Caelum smiled. “Just acknowledging skill where it’s due.”

Harlan tilted his head. “You ever work with aetherbeast hunters before?”

There it was. The real question. They were still feeling him out, testing whether he truly understood their methods, their world.

Caelum kept his expression calm. “Not directly. I trained under a few veterans who’d dealt with your kind before.” He let just a hint of something wry slip into his tone. “They had a lot to say.”

Janna smirked. “I’ll bet they did.”

Harlan chuckled. “Paladins don’t exactly have the best opinions of us, do they?”

Caelum shrugged. “Depends. Some respect the work you do. Others think you’re reckless mercenaries who stir up more trouble than you solve.”

Janna grinned. “And you?”

“I think you’re useful.”

Harlan laughed outright at that. “Fair enough.” He stretched his arms and stood. “I should check the perimeter. Try not to let the fire put you to sleep, paladin.”

Caelum watched Harlan disappear into the darkness, then turned his attention back to Janna, who had shifted to lean against a log, chewing on another piece of jerky. The firelight flickered in her sharp eyes, but she didn’t seem particularly wary of him. Good.

“You lot mobilized fast,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “I was sent out as soon as the alarm was raised, but I ran into you out here before I even had a chance to catch my breath. You must have had people in place already.”

Janna smirked. “We don’t sit on our asses waiting for orders. If something nasty’s loose, we start tracking before it can vanish. That’s why we’re good at what we do.”

“Smart,” he admitted, nodding as if impressed. “I take it there are more of you, then?”

Janna gave him a side glance but shrugged. “Of course. You think Weska would go after something like this with just a handful of us? We’ve got teams coming from other directions, all following different trails.”

“How many?” he asked, feigning interest in their strategy. “If we’re closing in, I’d like to know how much support we have.”

She let out a short laugh. “Trying to get a read on us, paladin?”

He chuckled. “Not at all. If we’re meant to work together, I’d rather not be the one left guessing.”

Janna seemed to accept that answer, leaning her head back against the log. “Two other squads, maybe more if the scouts find another trail. But this one,” she gestured vaguely in the direction of the tracks they’d been following, “is the freshest. We’ll probably make contact first.”

Two other squads. That put the number of hunters in play at what—ten? Maybe fifteen?

“Must be a lot of coordination involved,” he mused. “Who keeps all the groups in sync?”

“Weska handles it,” Janna said without hesitation. “She keeps in touch with the others, decides where we push hardest. The rest of us follow her lead.”

So Weska was the one with the bigger picture. That made her the priority if he wanted to throw them off.

Janna let out a yawn, stretching her arms before folding them behind her head. “You ask a lot of questions for a paladin.”

He smiled. “This quarry is more dangerous than anything seen before. Knowing our assets helps greatly.”

Janna studied him for a moment longer before leaning back. “You really gonna sit up all night?”

“I’ll rest when I need to.”

She huffed. “Suit yourself.”

She lay down on her bedroll, adjusting her cloak over herself. Within minutes, her breathing had evened out.

Caelum turned back to the fire, watching the flames flicker and twist.

They still weren’t sure about him, but that was fine.

He would decide what to do with them before they made up their minds.