Ah, it's been four months since I last updated this, bleh... Well, this was another chapter that sat half-finished for quite a loong time, it did. And though I've had it planned ever since I started the story, it's changed far too many times for me to count... Oh, but look! It's really really long!

Enough of that, though! You don't want to read my blatherings, you want to read the chapter that took four long months to get finished, of course!

Chapter 3: Misguided Murder

Many people have said that things get better with time. Just give a problem a day, a month, a year, and things will always find some magical way of fixing themselves. Of course, a great many know that that isn't always true, and in fact, time can just make things much, much worse.

For nearly two decades, Stefan had managed to live a relatively peaceful existence. Almost twenty years had gone by before the region of Seliora had the worst autumn harvest for more than a century. People everywhere were starving, and the other regions of Begnion had nothing to spare. Of course it was a natural occurrence, something that no one truly had any sort of control of, save the goddess herself, but people are never fond of believing that…

The day was like any other had been, and it seemed ever would be; sunrise, a meager meal if any at all, then the lone Branded of Tsena village slipped on his blue cloak over the browning clothes he wore normally and went off to work for the town grocer. The trees along the path running from Stefan's home to the village proper shivered in the wind, their leaves rustling with agitation and providing an overall feel of unease to the usually peaceful forest.

Finding enough food had become even harder since the fields went bad, but going to bed hungry wasn't something that was new to either the Branded or his mother. In fact, to Stefan at least, it seems as if there were no other ways to live.

Tsena slowly came into view from behind the green and brown of the trees, the town all but asleep for the time being. Being all too familiar with the path, Stefan wound through the alleyways of the town, avoiding the main roads if he could help it. He noticed a group gathering in front of the church, something that normally wouldn't be odd, but for some reason… that congregation in particular seemed off in a way that the Branded couldn't quite name.

Within only minutes of entering the village, the grocery's back entrance came into view, along with the owner, Tengo Forosoe, sitting on a creaking crate, sighing and shaking his head.

The fat man's eyes widened behind the sheets of excess skin at the sight of the Branded approaching, "Stefan? Wha' you doing 'ere?" The Branded opened his mouth slightly to answer but Tegno cut him off, "Ah, ya' 'ave ta get out of 'ere, m'boy. Ya' need ta run as far away from thi' place as fast as ya' can. Quickly no'!"

"What?" Stefan's teal eyes leapt from the man to the door behind him, almost expecting someone else to come out of it, for Tegno to be talking to them, not him.

"No time ta explain, Stefan. Ya' need ta ge' out o' 'here before they find ya'!" Tengo stood up as quickly as his girth would allow, a bit unsteady on his feet as his layers settled, "They 'ave an excuse now, m'boy! They'll kill ya' sooner than look at ya' if you're seen! Don' give 'em that chance, 'urry now!"

Understanding slowly sinking in, Stefan turned slowly from the man, unsure of what exactly to do.

"Stefan, wai'" The man took a few steps toward the Branded, then stopped abruptly, "I… I'm gonna miss ya', boy. Don' let any o' them filthy murders get ta ya, alrigh'?"

"I…"

Forosoe's trunk of a neck vibrated as the man turned his head suddenly to the side, a faint noise echoing from the village. "Ah, not much time left no', ya gotta leave!"

Perturbed by the grocer's sudden urgency, Stefan began to wander slowly back home, unsure exactly of whether he should believe the man or not. He got his answer as he passed by the church through an alley and dozens upon dozens of voices suddenly cried out. Curious, the Branded went as close to the noise as he could, Tengo's strange warning still on his mind.

It was the crowd he'd seen gathering in front of the church only a few minutes before, now a much larger mass of wailing women and shouting men clumped together in front of the mission's steps. Ulriah, the head priest stood at the doors of the immense building, several other clergymen gathered between him and the mob in front.

The man was speaking, shouting rather, towards the townspeople, the group slowly growing as the commotion spread throughout the village. Ulriah's words reverberated throughout the entire village, reaching the lone Branded standing in the dark alley.

"…been cursed by a famine, brought about by the goddess herself! She is punishing us for our insolence by making our children go hungry!" the crowd roared agreement, "We all have but one thing to blame for our families' starvation! The witch of the forest and her demon spawn!" another uprising of acknowledgement, "Because of them, our fields have gone sour; our crops have nothing to grow in, our herds nothing to graze on! In order to receive Ashera's blessings and save ourselves and our kin, we must remove these abominations from Her sacred land!" the priest clasped his hands together, giving the crowd a moment to have their angry cheer, "Who then, will take up arms and rid our fair town of those disgraces?"

Stefan pressed his back against the cool stone of the building, not bothering to look at who was volunteering for his and his mother's murder. The voices fell back into his mind, a constant roar adding to his already jumbled thoughts. Would they really go so far as to kill them? Blaming two innocent people for a disaster of nature wasn't right, wasn't it? Why… why would they blame him? Stefan had nothing to do with the villages' doings if he could help it, he knew how the people there felt about him, whether he understood why or not. But, suddenly, the fat grocer's warning made such horrifying sense—if he stayed in Tsena, he would be killed.

The crowd's cries doubled in volume suddenly, and the sharp sound of several galloping horses rushed by. Thinking back, Stefan noted how lucky he was not to have been spotted standing in the center of town by the dozen or so men who rode by, minds set only on slaughtering him and his meager family. Not pausing to ponder the possibilities, Stefan bolted further into the alley, running back to his home as quickly as his legs would take him, careful not to be spotted by any townspeople on the way.

In the back of his mind, the Branded knew that the ones he was trying to beat to the small cottage in the woods were on horses, and that he had no hope of getting there before them, he kept running anyway. He had to do something. He was responsible for this, perhaps not in the way the villagers believed, but he would not have his mother—the only one who'd ever loved him despite his blood—die simply because he lived. The landscape suddenly flashed from brown and grey to lush, vibrant green as Stefan reached the trees, still

Sorcha sat alone in the small, nearly empty room of her home, humming to herself while looking out the little window that lay in the kitchen, the opening letting in a meager square of green light into the otherwise dim room. Her only son had left only minutes before, and she only had a vague idea of when he may be returning.

As such, she was only mildly surprised when she heard someone walking across the creaky wood of her dwelling.

"Stefan? You home already?" she called, her voice pronounced against the sudden silence.

There was no response…

"Is that you?" there was the slightest quaver of fear and apprehension in her voice, so imperceptible, in fact, that one could only hear it if they were listening carefully for it.

The woman was about to call out again, but was stopped suddenly by a dark laugh pervading the room, "Ah, your filth-blood won't be coming back, I'm afraid."

"W-who are you?" Sorcha stood slowly and took a step towards the archway of the kitchen carefully, "Did you do something to—"

"You need not be thinking about your son's fate, wench," a young man with mahogany hair spun through the opening, leaning against the wall casually, "In fact…" a smile worked its way across his face, "You won't have to think 'bout much else in only a moments' time."

Sorcha's eyes flickered for a brief instant to the man's side, jumping across the thin sword sheathed there. The boy's intentions clear, the woman began taking slow steps back, her hands raised as if to defend herself from the inevitable.

Everything happened suddenly after that; there were flashes of green and brown, the two shades caught in an angry dance for only a moment before an abrupt flare of lethal silver convoluted all the colors, all the sounds into a spiraling vortex of warm crimson...

…Slowly, ever so slowly, everything descended peacefully into the cool darkness of pure nothing…

Stefan burst into the small clearing where his home was located, the rustle of leaves and his heavy breath the only sounds as he scanned the clearing, not slow to notice the horses dotting the area, grazing silently. Just as the Branded took a cautious step forward, a single figure emerged from the doorway of Stefan's home. Both young men froze and looked each other over briefly.

"Mido." Stefan hissed lowly.

"We've been looking for you." Mido said quietly, taking a step forward. The other men slowly emerged from the surrounding trees, making a lopsided ring around their leader and the Branded

Stefan backed up a pace and watching the others carefully out of the corner of his eye, "What did you do to my mother?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry 'bout her if I were you," Mido murmured, looking down at the blade in his hand, the silver metal painted with lines of wet blood, "Gutted the worthless pig m'self." The other men laughed lightly, as if Mido had just told a particularly funny joke.

Stefan watched as a grin slowly worked its way across the murderer's face, not quite comprehending the man's words. It did not take long, however, and with an angry roar, the Branded rushed at Mido, intent on finding some way of killing the smirking man despite his skill with a blade. Mido waited until Stefan was directly in front of him before skipping lightly to the side, allowing the Branded to run past him. As Stefan turned around one more, he was met with Mido's sword pointing dangerously at his throat. The orphan did not dare to move, but settled with glaring at his attacker, his teal eyes burning.

"You know," Mido said, slowly bringing his blade up to Stefan's throat, "I could kill you right here where you stand." He tilted his head to the side and smiled wider with a laugh, "But where's the fun in that? That filthy whore was hardly worth the time it took to slit her vile throat."

Stefan growled and swatted the sword aside suddenly. He lunged forward, but Mido slid out of the way once more, swinging his sword at Stefan, un able to stifle another laugh when he felt the steel cutting through not only the fine blue fabric of the Branded's cloak, but the flesh on his back as well. Stefan gasped as a searing line of pain whipped down and across his shoulder, severing the right sleeve of his robe. Stefan tried to push himself up, but a kick caught him in the side, rolling him over. The edges of his Stefan's vision started to darken. He almost welcomed it as a distraction. Mido planted his foot on the Branded's shoulder, pressing his fresh wound into the dirt and pinning him down.

"Ah, none of that now." Mido chuckled darkly, "I'll tell you though, I'm feeling particularly generous today, so I'll do you one little favor, yes? I will give you thirty seconds to run wherever you want," Mido dug his heel into Stefan's shoulder, "but after that, we're coming after you," he gestured to the men behind him, "D'you understand?"

Shaking with pain, rage and fear, Stefan nodded.

"Good," Mido took his foot back, "Now run filth-blood. Your life depends on it."

As soon as he was free, Stefan slowly stood once more, the sleeve of his robe slipping to the ground and warm blood dripping down his back. Not daring to retrieve the scrap of fallen fabric, Stefan backed out of the clearing, watching the dozen or so men wearily. He cast one last glace at his home—knowing that his mother's body lay somewhere inside—before turning his back and disappearing into the green of the forest.

Once Stefan was out of sight, one of the hunters turned to Mido, "You're not really giving him that much time, are you?"

With a low laugh, Mido shook his head, "Of course not," he motioned to the man beside him, "Shall we, then?"

…

…

The only sound Stefan could hear as he ran were his pounding steps, harsh breathing, and the green whistling by him in a blur, the trees nothing more than smudges of green and brown. The Branded leapt over roots and ducked under limbs, surprising even himself with his skill in dodging the thick forest. His back throbbed with every stride, warm liquid still oozing from the wound and leaving an occasional drop on the leafy foliage as he ran.

And then, he heard the sounds of other behind him, hooves ripping up grass and moss, shouts between men and the whinny of horses through the leaves. He couldn't die here, not now. Sorcha may have already been killed, but… Stefan was scared. He feared the blades piercing his body, the life draining from him like water from a cracked bowl. He was too young, he'd never left the village, hardly had any time to get his life started, he wasn't ready to—

Stefan heard the thin whistle before he could comprehend what it was. The next instant, the sudden pain of metal entering his body went through him again, this time from a single arrow piercing his shoulder. The unexpected shock was enough to buckle the Branded's still moving legs, and he collapsed, sliding to a rough halt in a small clearing, snapping the shaft of the bolt in two jagged halves. His breath coming in pained gasps, Stefan reached for the shard of wood and metal remaining in his back, yelping when he touched the projectile and another wave of fire coursed through his body.

The hunters and their mounts took up nearly half of the glade that Stefan had fallen in. The trees parted to create small paths, one to the east and back to Tsena, and one to the west, away from the village. The Branded had his back to the trees, the western path to his right, and the eastern path and the men in front of him.

Mido leapt off his tawny horse nimbly and sauntered the last few feet separating himself and the Branded, kicking him once more in the ribs. Stefan groaned and rolled on his back, despite the arrow still embedded in his shoulder. Mido's smile broadened as he planted his foot on the Branded's chest once more.

"You ready to die, filth-blood?" Mido laughed darkly, his sword flashing dangerously in the forest light.

Stefan only looked up at his pursuers, unsure whether to fear his coming death, or to accept it. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his frantic, agonized breathing, though he knew it wouldn't make a difference if he was relaxed or not—a peaceful man's death was the same as an unsettled one's for all the Branded cared. Mido grinned and stood over Stefan, sword held out at his side proudly.

"You've no idea how long I've wanted to do this… Stephanie," He laughed again, "I have to admit though; you were much more entertaining than your wench of a mother."

Stefan only grimaced as his wounds shocked him once more, but did not dare open his eyes to watch he felt the lethal tip of Mido's sword coming to a rest on the hollow of his throat. He heard Mido laugh once more before the cool steel vanished from Stefan's awareness, and he knew that it was time.

However, rather than the searing pain of metal once more entering his body, Stefan heard an icy feminine voice he did not recognize call out, "Stop."

The toneless voice's demand was simple, and Stefan opened his eyes to see the deadly point stopped inches from his torn robe, lingering within killing distance as its owner looked across the clearing to see the one who dared interrupt his makeshift justice.

There were four girls standing in the yellow-green light flitting in through the leaves, all nearly identical in appearance. Their eyes had the slightest hint of a slant in them, and their faces were both long and round, both narrow and wide. The girls' skin was much darker than any of the Tsenens, appearing as if they'd all spent much of their lives under the heat of the sun.

Though they all looked like duplicates of each other, the four girls each wore their long black hair differently and long, flowing cloaks of varied shades. The one on the far left had her hair flowing freely down her back, the ebon river drifting over the deep purple fabric that made her clothing while the one next to her preferred to keep her locks in a tight braid trailing like a twisted tail down her odd orange—almost blood-red—cloak. The third's long ponytail washed down her midnight-blue clothed shoulders as she glanced briefly at the final girl, her leaf-green garb making her two dark pigtails stand out even more as their owner nearly blended in with the scenery behind her.

None of them seemed like they had made it past their first decade in life, but their matching violet eyes betrayed their true lifespan to be far more expansive than their small bodies indicated. In their right hands, each of the four girls held healing staves, the jeweled tips nearly level with the top of their black-sheathed heads. The four children stood side to side formed what appeared to the Tsena men the least-threatening sort of barrier possible, and despite the anxious snorts from their horses, several of them scoffed as the girl with the violet cloak took a small step forward.

"You would do well to release him," She said flatly, her young voice low with dark confidence, "if you all wish to leave this place with your lives intact." Her eyes swooped slowly across the line of men still on their horses, flicking briefly to the silent Stefan at Mido's feet.

"Oh, we would, would we?" Mido laughed, obviously unnerved by the sudden appearance of the four children. He motioned to the mounted archer behind him who pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back and notched it slowly, "That's not going to happen, sweetheart. We need this bastard dead, see? If he gets out of here alive, our entire town will starve. Besides, if you knew what he was, you wouldn't put yourself in such a…" a grin worked its way across his face, "vulnerable position."

Stefan chanced a look at the four girls again, half to see the girls' reaction and half to get his eyes off the shimmering sword in front of him, itching to impale his body at any given moment.

"We all know very well what he is, that is why we come," She set her eerie eyes on the unnamed archer behind Mido, holding his bow at the ready, set to fire when and where Mido demanded, "You are all fools. Not one of you truly cares about the welfare of your home; you only thirst for the taste of blood. Such petty creatures you are, finding whomever you can to place the blame for your misfortunes upon and murdering them with no cause."

Deliberately, she tilted her left arm back, and the sleeve fell back to reveal a dark mark swirling across her tanned skin, "You despise us even more than your own kind. You treat us like filth, you say we're unfit to share your land, you hunt us like cattle; you kill us as if we were truly less than you. You think that simply because…" She shook her head and seemed distracted by something, "Believe what you will, human, but you will gain nothing by killing this Forsaken One but your own death in return."

Mido kept his eyes carefully on the Brand on the small girl's hand and motioned silently towards the man behind him. In a fluid motion, the archer lifted his bow and fired his shot at the girl, the arrow flying towards her in a deadly arc. Stefan returned his eyes to Mido's blade hovering at his chest, waiting for the sounds signaling the girl's demise.

After a moment, a shiver traveled down Mido's sword, and he cursed lowly while the almost all the men around him took a step back. The girl's branded arm was raised, her mouth twisted into a dim smile as her eyes watched the pure black bulge rising from the ground in front of her, undulating with invisible power from the single shaft of an arrow embedded in its side.

The darkness condensed and coalesced around the arrow silently, leaving the thin projectile floating in midair coated in the black substance as dark as the girls' hair. Before anyone cold blink—the four strange children included—the arrow of pure night was hovering its lethal point dangerously close to Mido's throat.

"If you value your life despite the ignorance you have shown by underestimating our power," the dark sage said slowly, "you will leave this place now. Do not think I can't kill you, I've no problem slaughtering…" she cocked her head and seemed lost in an unknown place for a moment before continuing, "Make your choice now, and we will allow you and your men to leave… unharmed."

There was only a moment of silence before all the sound of running horses filled the area once more as the men fled the clearing, leaving their makeshift leader behind. Mido's blade slowly and carefully pulled back from Stefan's chest and returned to its sheath, its owner careful not to move his head as he did. Never taking his eyes off of Stefan's, Mido slowly backed away from the clearing and leapt back upon his horse, muttering soft curses under his breath before yanking the beast's reins sharply and galloping back to the village.

Without a word, the violet-cloaked girl lowered her hand, the black magic dissipated from the arrow, and the weapon dropped uselessly to the mossy ground. Stefan looked up from where his would-be murderer had been only moments before to the girl who had saved his life, unable to suppress another groan from the pain running through his back. With a small grunt, she turned towards Stefan and came towards him, her three companions following close behind.

"Turn so I can get to your back," She ordered, and Stefan obeyed without a thought, unsure to be grateful to this girl or to fear her.

There was another sudden flame stabbing at his back as she removed the remains of the arrow shaft, and the Branded had to fight not to reach for his arrow wound again. His shoulder still throbbing with each beat of his heart, Stefan watched the strange girl through the corner of his eye as she pulled her staff in front of her small body, the gem on top already glowing with a dim blue light. Stefan felt his wounds numb and slowly warm as the staff's light increased in intensity. Hardly a moment later, everything faded away. The pain was gone, even the dull ache of an old wound wasn't present. Stefan reached up and felt his shoulder

She offered out her small free hand—her Brand hidden under the dark fabric of her robe once more—to Stefan who took it uncertainly. The girl possessed helped pull Stefan to his feet slowly, the green-haired Branded half expecting for the back to light up in pain once more.

"Are you harmed anywhere else?" the child wearing green asked slowly, possessing the same flat, cold voice as the dark mage's.

Slowly, Stefan nodded, "N-no, I think I'm… fine." He looked at the four girls' faces in turn, "Who are you?"

"We've been taught," the violet-clad girl murmured, "that one is to give their own name before demanding it of another. However, you may be the exception. I," she bent into a half-bow, "am Meg, and these are my sisters, Joelle," the girl with the braid smiled and ducked her head slightly, "Beth," the girl in the dark blue winked, "and Amy." the girl whose clothes blended in with her surroundings smiled and pulled her viridian cloak closer around her narrow shoulders.

"Our leader sent us," Amy murmured, "He said that you would be closer to the village than this, though…" Her odd violet eyes bore into Stefan's teal, as if asking for the answer to some unspoken question.

"It seems our information was not as reliable as we would have liked," Meg said, looking down the path leading to the village.

"So it seems." Meg murmured, "Though, you've yet to tell us your name, you know this, yes?"

"Ah," Stefan said quietly, "My name is Stefan. T-thank you for saving my life, I—"

"You do not need to express your gratitude," Joelle whispered, speaking for the first time in the same even, emotionless tone of her sisters, "We understand."

"Though I hate to be abrupt," Meg said, turning her gaze back to the path behind Stefan, "time is of the essence, and we must leave as soon as possible. The villagers are angry, and will provide resistance if we linger for much longer."

"Wait, what?" Stefan looked back in the same direction as Meg, "You're taking me somewhere?"

"Of course." Meg said, "Did you think we merely saved your life to send you back into the clutches of those humans?"

"W-where—"

"Enough questions!" Beth exclaimed, her voice still emotionless, but oddly happy at the same time, "Let us leave this place. All these trees make me long for the desert once more."

"Beth is right," Joelle agreed, "We can explain everything to you on the way to the Grann, but for now, you will have to trust that our intentions are in your best interests, and come with us immediately."

The four sisters turned from the village in unison and began walking, their staves thumping softly against the ground.

"No!" Stefan suddenly protested, causing the four sisters to stop and turn back to face him, "I can't just leave! My mother… They… Mido killed her! I know they won't do anything for her, they'll just leave her to rot!"

"C'est la vie," Beth called back flatly, "If you go back there, you will be killed. You have no reason to throw your life away for the deadafter we so graciously saved it. Come with us, and you may live in peace among your own kind."

"But—"

"Think about it," Beth said, taking a small step forward, "If I assume your mother loved you, yes? More than any one likely ever will. If she were still alive, would she want you to risk your life just to bury her body?"

"But—"

"Are you coming or not?"

Stefan sighed and cast one last glance towards his home, towards everything he had always known. How was he so sure that he could trust these strange girls? It didn't matter either way—he had no home to go to, no family to hold close—everything had been taken away by one man. Grinding his teeth and seething with anger, the orphaned Branded whispered loud enough for only him to hear, "I will come back for you Mido. I will come prepared and ready to stand against you. I will get revenge for my mother's murder. You will pay, I swear to you."

"'Oy, you coming?" Beth and her sisters were further down the path now, with the blue-robed girl walking backwards so as to get a better view of Stefan's progress as he jogged to catch up with them.

With silent approval, Beth slid down the path to leave room for Stefan. As the five Branded walked, the trees grew further apart, and Stefan looked back at his childhood home for the last time for years before turning his mind to the future sprawling itself in front him.

Hmm, if I said that I liked this, it would be a lie. Something about it just seems horribly off, really. Oh wells, as Beth said, 'C'est la vie', no?

I still hope that it was well worth the wait, and I really, REALLY do think that only the next update will be slow, but the rest will come nice and often. More often than every few months, at least... *Sigh* Reviews still make me happy, of course, and make me remember that people read this, and would like to read more of it more often.

(Oh, and cookies to whoever can name at least one of the two places where the little girls' names come from).