"My name is Talon. I carry the blood of a people hunted to extinction. But I survived. And I won't rest until justice finds those who destroyed my world"
Talon looked at him, her breathing slow but heavy, her eyes dark with something deeper than just pain. "I'm Talon," she said, her voice low, almost like a vow whispered in a temple of ghosts. "The lone Blackblood survivor. And I'm here for revenge."
Her words carried the weight of blood and memory. "The death of my mother… my family… my clan, my people. That's why I'm still breathing. That's what I'm doing."
There was a rawness to her voice, not the type that begged for sympathy but the kind that came from carrying a burning purpose day after day, night after night. Her jaw clenched. The rage behind her eyes didn't flare. It simmered, slow and deadly.
With a wince, she tried to shrug into the coat resting near her side, its coarse fabric scratching at her wounded skin. But the moment the sleeve brushed her bandaged arm, she let out a sharp cry.
"Ouch." Her hand dropped the coat as pain surged through her, stabbing and hot.
Janzo rushed to her side instantly, his face tightening with concern. "Don't stress too much," he murmured gently. "The pain's going to last a while."
He knelt beside her, already opening a small cloth pouch from his belt. Inside, nestled like treasure, were pale traces of myrrh oil and a fine, powdery blend of something rarer, ground Norrin seed. Its texture was flawless, sifted so clean it shimmered faintly in the candlelight, showing no signs of impurity.
He dipped a cloth in the mixture and began to apply it to her wrist, working slowly, tenderly. The oil gave off a faint, earthy scent, healing, calming.
Talon didn't speak. She just watched him.
As his fingers moved carefully across her skin, something flickered in his expression. His eyes, usually darting with uncertainty or wide with nervous thoughts, held still now. Focused. Present.
He didn't say it. He didn't have to. But something had begun to stir in Janzo's chest. A warmth he couldn't explain. An ache, maybe. Something tender, fragile, but real. He wasn't sure if it was foolish, if it would fade like so many things in this broken world, but the feeling was there all the same.
He looked up at her, unsure what he expected to find in her eyes.
Talon met his gaze, steady and unreadable. There was no smirk. No teasing glint. Just silence. Her face didn't show fear. It didn't show affection either. But for a brief heartbeat, the intensity in her gaze softened, not much, just a sliver. Just enough to wonder.
Did she feel it too?
Janzo's heart thudded once, awkward and loud in his own ears. He quickly looked away, dabbing more of the ointment onto her skin. "You'll heal better if you rest," he said quickly, almost clumsily now.
Talon didn't respond. She just leaned back against the wall, eyes drifting toward the ceiling, jaw set.
Whatever passed between them in that moment, whether imagined or real, was left hanging in the still air.
Would she ever feel the same?
Would he ever admit it?
Would anything come of this strange connection between a warrior shaped by blood and vengeance, and a brewer armed only with kindness and science?
Tomorrow would tell.
Maybe.
...
Talon let her head lean back against the cold stone wall, exhaling slowly as the sting in her arm finally dulled. Janzo sat a short distance away, awkward at first, his hands fumbling with the now-empty herb pouch. The quiet between them stretched, heavy with unsaid thoughts.
"You really care about helping people," Talon murmured, her voice lower now. Not cold. Not sharp. Just... real. "Even strangers."
Janzo gave a nervous chuckle, shrugging. "Well… someone has to. Out here, compassion's rarer than fresh bread."
He glanced at her. "Not all of us are sword-swinging, revenge-chasing warriors."
Talon gave him a tired smile, the kind that barely reached her eyes but meant something all the same. "You don't need a blade to be strong, Janzo. You're not as soft as you think."
The words landed like a spark in a dry field, unexpected but oddly welcome.
Janzo blinked. "Thanks… I think?"
The firelight from the nearby hearth danced on the walls of the lab chamber, casting shadows that twisted like ghosts across their faces. From somewhere beyond the window, the sounds of the Outpost murmured: clanking metal, echoing footsteps, hushed voices. The world outside kept moving, unaware that two lives inside this quiet space were beginning to intertwine.
Talon's gaze drifted. To the dark corners of the room. To the weight inside her chest. To the faces of her mother, her clan, the screams, the blood, the betrayal. The emptiness of loss. The burden of vengeance.
.....
KNOCK. KNOCK.
Both their bodies went rigid. A knock. At this hour?
Janzo stood up slowly, motioning for her to stay hidden. Talon immediately slipped behind a worn curtain that separated the back of the lab from the main room.
Janzo crept toward the door, cracked it just enough to peer outside.
Garrett stood there. The commander's posture was stiff, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the other behind his back.
"Janzo," Garrett said, his tone calm but firm. "We've got word that the girl who escaped the cell, she might still be in the Outpost. Witnesses said she was last seen near this tavern. Possibly here."
Janzo's heart thudded in his chest. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth for a second.
"Oh, her? Yeah… she was here," he said, feigning a nonchalant shrug. "But she's gone now. After she had some kind of row with a guy in here, she bolted. Left without looking back."
Garrett's brow furrowed. "And you're sure of that?"
"She left," Janzo repeated. "I haven't seen her since."
Garrett studied him a little too long, then nodded once. "If she shows again, let me know immediately."
He patted Janzo's shoulder and stepped inside without waiting for permission.
Talon, hidden and silent, didn't move a muscle.
Janzo trailed the commander, babbling nervously. "You know, I've been experimenting with a new fermentation technique. Uses root ash, changes the taste. Adds kick, some say. Not quite lethal…"
Garrett ignored the talk. He moved through the lab, inspecting the rooms, one after another.
Talon's pulse thundered in her ears. If he opened the wrong door...
But luck, or maybe fate, held. Garrett turned back, unsatisfied.
"If you're lying, Janzo," he said as he passed, tone low and dangerous, "you'll answer for it."
Janzo gave a weak grin. "Just a humble brewer, remember?"
Garrett said nothing more and exited, the door clicking shut behind him.
Janzo stayed frozen for a second, then exhaled sharply and slumped against the wall.
A few moments later, the curtain rustled, and Talon stepped out.
Her voice was a whisper. "That was too close."
"Way too close," Janzo muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
They looked at each other.
And in that flickering firelit moment, something passed between them. Not quite love. Not yet. But something deeper than friendship. A fragile trust born of fear, survival… and something else neither dared name.