"Blood and Venom ch.1: Aftermath" by Marcus W. Ager

Dash found his sister right where he thought she would be, standing by Dael’s grave. Her feet were planted daintily on the side of the freshly dug earth and one of her hands was draped almost absently over the gravestone. One of her ears twitched toward his direction, indicating that she knew he was there, though she made no move to acknowledge him. He watched her for several seconds, neither of them moving. Though she was almost eight years older than him, Dash thought that she looked very young at that moment, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Maybe it was just a trick of the light.

It was a chilly night, and Dash shivered slightly as a cool wind ruffled his fur. He wished he had thought to bring his cloak. He looked around to see if anyone other than he and his sister were there, but, as he expected, no one was. At his sister’s request, Dael had been buried away from the common graveyard. He was laid to rest deep in the forest. Dash wanted to get this over with, because he always thought it awkward to impede on others’ deepest feelings. He took a step forward, but before he could open his mouth, Wren spoke.
“You came to comfort me, did you not?” her eyes opened slowly as she turned to look at her brother, the slightest trace of a smile playing about her lips. Dash was silent. He didn’t know what to say anymore. He simply looked helplessly at Wren and at the gravestone that stood above his brother-in-law’s corpse. He wished with all his heart that Dael’s death could have been prevented, that he could be alive right now, his heartfelt chuckle lightening the mood. But that was not how things were, and all he could do was stare. “I don’t need your pity, brother.” Wren said quietly after she realized that Dash would not offer a reply to her question.
“I didn’t come here to pity you Wren, I came here to help you.” Dash said, finally recovering use of his voice. To this Wren laughed, a cold mirthless chuckle.
“Help me what? Help my cry? Help me spill my tears all over the forest floor? Were you going to hold me and tell me that everything will be all right, Dash?” Again came the chuckle, and Dash felt a chill ripple down his spine as he caught his sister’s eyes. The warmth and compassion that used to give them such life was now gone, and instead of staring into his sister’s kind eyes he found himself meeting the frozen gaze of a huntress. Something else that Dash found disturbing, and it took him a moment to realize it, was that Wren’s eyes were dry. She had not been crying at all. What had happened to his sister? “What is it Dash? Are you surprised?”
“You’re...different Wren.” he replied uneasily.
“Yes Dash,” she said, her voice barely over a whisper, “In case you haven’t noticed, there have been some changes in my life recently. Things are not as they once were.” It was at that moment that Dash understood why Wren had looked so young to him. Her shield maiden’s sash, the small length of brown fabric that marked her as an elite protector and bodyguard, was gone. Dash had always seen that as a mark of experience and, thus, of age and wisdom, and he had never seen Wren take it off. Now however it was nowhere to be seen.
“You-you’re sash Wren, it’s gone!” Dash said, the shock of all of his sister’s sudden changes spurring him on to speak where he would normally be silent.
“Yes I know,” Wren stated calmly, “I resigned.”
“But Wren, that was your life’s training! Why would you-”
“My life is different now,” she interrupted, “the shield does not fit my purposes anymore. These do.” and with that she drew two weapons that Dash recognized immediately. They were the dual sai called the Viper’s Fangs, a set of weapons passed through Dash and Wren’s bloodline ever since their distant grandfather made them. The weapons looked exactly the same, both were elegantly crafted with blades that glittered like moonlight and hilts whose grips were molded into perfect likenesses of winding snakes. The weapons, Dash knew, could be transformed into bracelets to conceal them, then quickly called back out when needed. They were powerful, capable of slicing clean through most armor, though that was not their most feared ability. The Viper’s Fangs constantly secrete a potent venom that is also a powerful acid, guaranteeing victims of the deadly blades an agonizing demise. Seeing these weapons made Dash instinctively drop his hands to his own heirlooms, the twin swords called Dragon’s Fury, though their warm hilts did little to reassure him. The fact that his sister was planning on using the Viper’s Fangs in combat sickened him. Wren had never had any desire to hurt anyone before, and she had fought only out of pure necessity. Now, however, she seemed to desire the pain and suffering of her enemies. Wren sighed and transformed her sai into bracelet form with a thought, the blades turning into a softly glowing light and chasing down her arms before solidifying again into meaningless looking jewelry. “Dash, there’s...something I need to ask of you.” Wren said, looking away from him.
“Hm?” was all Dash could bring himself to say.
“Well, you...you’re my only family left Dash.” she said, still looking away. Secretly, Dash knew this to not be true, but he knew better than to bring up their evil uncle Azdrael at a time like this. “I...I can’t loose you. Not for anything, do you understand?” She finally looked back at him, and Dash was suddenly overjoyed, for in Wren’s eyes he saw that familiar warmth, that love, that had always been characteristic of his sister. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.
“Yes Wren, I understand, no playing the hero.” and Dash allowed himself a slight smile, even a whisper of a chuckle.
“I’m serious Dash,” Wren said with no hint of humor in her voice, “if I were to loose you too I...I don’t know what I would do.”
“You don’t need to worry about me, I can handle myself.” Dash’s normal cocky edge to his speech was beginning to come back.
“Those were the last words that Dael said to me.” Wren said quietly, her eyes again becoming cold and without feeling. That shut Dash up, and his heart sank when he again met Wren’s gaze.
“Wren, I was just-“
”Do you know why we didn’t simply resurrect Dael?” Wren asked suddenly. Dash was surprised. He hadn’t really thought of that. Dael had been an accomplished fighter, and at base-camp there was a cleric that was experienced enough to bring people back from the dead, Dash had seen him do it before. Dash knew that if specific body parts were missing, namely the head or heart, then much more powerful magic was required to breath life back into the dead, but he had seen Dael’s corpse, and it was not missing its head nor was there any evidence that its heart was gone. The only wounds on him had been a particularly nasty gash that had opened his stomach, allowing its acid to spill out over Dael’s other organs. Dash didn’t like to think about that, though. He waited for Wren to give her answer. “The one that killed him was not content with simply taking his life,” she went on, “there is another thing that is missing: his soul.” That stunned Dash as good as any blow to the head would have.
“Wh-what?” he said as if in a daze.
“Whoever slew Dael used powerful magic to lock his soul away as well, preventing resurrection.” Wren replied. Dash was speechless. “Now you see, Dash. Now you see why I cannot simply let this crime go unpunished.”
“What do you mean?” Dash asked quietly, dreading the answer, but needing it all the same. Wren’s eyes narrowed, her ears stood stiff, and her fur rose, becoming threatening pinpricks of hair.
“They took Dael from me, both body and soul,” Wren said, rage building in her voice, “so now I will kill them Dash, I will repay Dael’s blood and my anguish on them a hundredfold! And when I find the one who holds Dael’s soul, may the gods help him.” and with that she turned and stalked off into the forest, making no sound whatsoever, her tail swishing silently after her as she strode into the darkness.

Dash’s mind was a thunderstorm. He didn’t know what to make of any of this. His brother-in-law lay dead, and his image of his sister was shattered. He fell to his knees, tears welling up in his eyes both for Dael’s loss and from sheer confusion. “Why, damn you!” he shouted at the gravestone, “why did you need to die? Look at all of the trouble you’ve caused! Look at what you’ve done to my sister!” and with that, Dash collapsed in front of the slab of unfeeling granite and sobbed, the soft earth clotting into his fur. And it was his tears, not Wren’s, that first touched Dael’s grave.