Chapter 1
Her chest stutters with each gasp for air, blood gushing out and pooling around her with each sharp exhale. Her hand falls away from the wound, bloodied and red, as she checks the condition she was in.
This is it. She failed.
Of all the things the Red Room did, this is what kills her. Surrounded by the bodies of poor archeologists that were just trying to do their job as Yelena was tasked with finding a relic that is said to have the formula to influence minds.
All it took was one badly aimed knife that took her here.
Staring up at the moon peering through a crack in the old tomb, Yelena slowly drags herself upright toward the steps at the foot of a statue. She uses all of the energy she has left, peering out of the massacre she left in her wake.
Perhaps… perhaps this was for the best.
She peers down at the stab wound that was weeping blood faster than her body could replenish it. It had hit one of her vital organs, of that Yelena was sure. She was going to die here. Alone and cold with no one to care to find her body.
She tilts her head back to rest against the cold stone behind her, focusing on dragging air into her lungs. Her eyes start to droop, she’s so very tired but she’s also scared. She’s scared of dying.
“You’re not ready to die yet.”
The voice that spoke is deep and echoes through the large tomb, causing her head to jerk up. She had killed everybody, she made sure of that. Her order was to leave no witnesses behind and if she left even one then she was a failure as well. Her eyes flicker across the room, searching for the source of the voice.
“You’re not ready yet. You haven’t even lived.” The voice continues steadily. A gust of wind flutters and Yelena is left staring up at a figure at least nine feet tall, dressed in robes and a cape with a floating bird skull for a head.
“No…” Yelena whispers, unsure if she had well and truly finally lost her mind. Maybe this was the Red Room’s way of ensuring that she was tortured before she died.
“I feel the pain inside of you…” The voice continues on as the creature looms over her, tilting its head to the side.
“Who… are you?” Yelena felt stupid talking to what was probably a dying hallucination. But somewhere deep inside of her, she was scared. She didn’t want to die and she certainly didn’t want to die alone.
“I am the god Khonshu…” The figure responds, inclining its head in greeting. “I am in search of a warrior.”
“I’m not a warrior.” Yelena whispers but the figure continues on like she hadn’t spoken.
“To be my hands, my eyes, my vengeance. To be my final word against the evil-doers. To bind your very being to me and eradicate only the worst. Those who deserve it. Do you want death… or do you want life?” The figure pauses to wait for her response.
Of course she wants life. She wants to live. But she can’t-- she’s not a warrior. “I’m not good.” Yelena whispers, her mouth dry with a metallic tang. “I have killed many who do not deserve it… little girls… children…” Her chest feels like it has a weight on it, slowly caving it in. It’s getting hard to breathe.
“But you want to be. You want to be free, to lose the binds that tether you to that awful place, to truly live. You wish to be good,” The figure gets closer to her and she tries to lean away from it. “You are but a child with so much life ahead of you. Your journey does not need to end here. Tell me… do you want death… or do you want life?” It repeats its question.
“I…” Death scared her. She wants so badly everything that it was describing. “I want to live…” She admits.
“Then in exchange for your life, do you swear to protect the travelers of the night, and bring my vengeance to those who would do them harm?” The figure straightened, the staff they held in their hand glinting in the moonlight.
Perhaps Yelena had gone crazy. Maybe the Red Room finally broke her down and destroyed her mind. But even if this was a hallucination, it was bringing Yelena the peace and comfort that she needed before she died.
She looks down at the blood pouring from her stomach, the stream slowly dying out with how fast she was bleeding out, her hand shaking with blood loss. Using the last of her strength, she tilts her head back to peer up at the figure and uses her last breath of air to utter only one word.
“Yes.”