Radiant Claw

Radiant Claw ate her breakfast in silence, oblivious to the tense conversation of Dusk’s Repose and Leviathan. She was lost in her own thoughts, her mind trying to absorb the events of the past couple weeks. It was not the first time her world had changed suddenly, but it was always disconcerting.

Teja was nearly overwhelmed by the acrid smoke and the smell of burning flesh as he led them away from the city. Nearby, a farm was ablaze like a beacon in the night, but there would be no help coming. She could see the faint traces of dawn on the horizon. The dozen or so women and children behind her, survivors of a destroyed orphanage, looked at her in desperation. Teja still wore her armor and sword, and the emblems of her status as a soldier of Thorns. They looked at her like she was some sort of savior, but she felt as lost as they did. Her home, her life, her purpose, was gone, lost to the Mask of Winters. But these people…they needed her. She had to see them safely away. She had to protect them.

She heard the soldiers before she saw them. They were dressed in black and bore down on them with murderous intent. What could she hope to do against an entire squad of trained men? Teja looked back at the frightened, tired children.

Teja turned around and met them with her sword drawn. Heat soared through her and she felt a surge of strength.

It was only after, as she stood in the center of her fallen enemies’ charred bodies, that she noticed her body had become a beacon of its own.

Those she protected stared at her with more fear than they had of the soldiers.

A Chosen of the Unconquered Son? Her life experience had not lent itself to trust much in gods, spirits, or anyone else besides her sword. Stability was a foreign concept. If being Anathema wasn’t a curse, why were they hunted?

Claw thought of her dream again. It had seemed so real. She remembered the fatal stroke. Hell, she could feel it. Dusk had spoken of previous lives. Claw believed in reincarnation, like most. Was this who she had been, this Raederle?

The conversation caught her attention and she sighed. They were arguing again. Or Dusk was arguing. Leviathan never seemed to raise his voice, but by now Claw could detect the agitation. Dusk had lived a life of knowledge, privilege, and respect. Leviathan was more familiar with the struggle to work and support his family. Claw understood both of them, but didn’t fit with either. She lay somewhere in the middle. She’d had only a basic education, and the only family she cared about was long dead. She’d thrown herself into her life as a soldier, only to have that taken away as well. Now this Anathema business.

She thought again of Raederle. A powerful warrior and a mother. And there was some connection with that Wraith. Claw wondered that, if Raederle was her from the First Age, would she be that women again? Were fate and destiny strong than her life experiences and choices?