Ahri Moonchild swept her hand over her hardened Harrow deck. Six ornate cards floated from the stack and slotted themselves into the form of an upside down crucifix floating in the air in front of her. The meaning of the reading flooded her mind as she channeled the beyond.

“Your fate is looking rather grim Farouk,” she said as with a flourish she sent the cards flying through the air toward the armored man. They all struck true, disintegrating into thick black and purple smoke as they impacted his armor. The smoke curled up and forced it’s way into his nose and mouth and eyes and ears. It snaked its way into his mind and through it Ahri showed him his impending death at the hands of her maul-wielding companion in just a few moments.

It was only a glimpse at a likely future, of course, but Ahri made sure that Farouk thought it was the future. If Farouk was lucky he would succumb to the mental strain of being confronted with that glimpse of his own death. It would be better for him to die in fear of her companion’s maul than to actually suffer the agonizing death she had just forced him to confront.

Jade Fireheart stood at the ready all the same, her maul poised for a brutal sweeping strike. It didn’t matter to her if fate said her next blow would kill her opponent or if it would be several blows yet; she would strike and keep striking until the deed was done. When she fought she was fueled by anger and frustration, both of which had been building with little release since the beginning of this damned civil war.

The Jackals were never meant to be soldiers. They were formed to hunt monsters, but the only thing any of them had time to hunt anymore was each other. All three of the combatants felt the same weariness about killing their own brothers and sisters, and yet the war raged on in the name of either tradition or progress. Ahri and Jade had sided with tradition–with Manik the Basilisk. Farouk on the other hand had always stood with Mago Carta, the founder of the order.

“Wait,” Farouk held up a hand, “please Jade, I know you’re as tired of this war as I am–as we all are…”

Farouk being off guard and more willing to talk meant that Ahri’s spell was working. The mental strain would build as the possible future she had shown him continued to echo through his mind. When it finally broke his resolve it would send him reeling.

Ahri grinned. Nothing pleased her more than things working as planned; it’s what drew her to the harrow in the first place.

Jade, however, did not strike out at Farouk as expected.

Ahri’s grin faded, and she knit her brows but kept her guard up. This was not working as planned. She maintained her spell; even if Jade wouldn’t strike, the spell would still do its job.

“These may be your last words, Farouk,” Jade growled, “use them wisely.” Farouk let out a ragged sigh and relaxed slightly, so Jade added, “And quickly.”

“The massacre at Jackal Keep,” he said, letting his blade hang limp at his side, “where were you?”

“Killing the king that Mago Carta sold us to,” Ahri hissed, “making the best of a bad deal, if you will. I know my crimes, Farouk.” There was a time she would have kept that information hidden–they had all agreed to keep it secret that night–but the longer they fought this war the less Ahri cared about whether what they did that night was right or wrong. It had been done and that was that.

Jade said nothing; she just kept staring at Farouk with her maul firmly held and ready.

“And after Manik left from there?” Farouk asked, “he was there, wasn’t he? The Basilisk is the one that convinced you to rebel with him, right?” There was no answer from either of the women so he continued, “he was there… The king died… and then he returned to the keep–”

“Where he was attacked,” Jade finished for him, finally speaking up. They had not ridden back to the keep with Manik if only to avert suspicion. It was a few days later when they returned to the keep to find it in shambles. That’s where they got the story of what happened when Manik arrived at the keep.

“No,” Farouk said firmly, “he attacked us.”

“Liar!” Ahri yelled. She tugged on the magical thread that still connected her and Farouk, making him wince as that vision of his demise flashed through his head once more. Her spell was still active, though she had held back its full effects while they let him talk.

“Why would I lie, Moonchild?” Farouk asked through gritted teeth. “It is well known that your predicted futures rarely come back void. You’ve killed enough of us that word’s gotten around and I can feel the dagger you have pointed at my mind.”

Ahri’s face flushed hot as a tear rolled involuntarily down her face. Her nose stung as she held back emotions that she had been barely holding back for months. The thread of magic connecting her and Farouk broke and she hissed at him again as she saw him regain his composure.

“They were my friends too,” Ahri said, drawing another card from her harrow deck but not playing it into the invisible field in front of her. Farouk braced himself. She held it there for a moment before slotting it back in her deck and finally relaxing. “You were there that night?” she asked, “at the keep?”

“Yes,” Farouk said, “I was.”

Jade took the cue from Ahri and relaxed as well. She let her maul fall to the ground at her side and leaned against it. “And you’re about to tell us that the Basilisk is the one who attacked first?” she said.

Farouk nodded. “We weren’t expecting it, even those of us who knew the tensions between the factions were mounting.” He sheathed his blade and found a nearby log to sink onto. “I for one was suspicious when Mago came back without the four of you. He made the right call coming back to our healers, but even he waved his wound off as nothing more than barbarian heathens defending their land.”

Jade and Ahri remained standing as he continued his tale.

“None of us wanted to accept the idea that we would be betrayed by our own brothers. I knew the Basilisk was ruthless, I’d worked with him on a couple jobs, but we were fighting monsters. To attack the keep like that; to attack brothers and sisters with such…” he went silent for a moment. “No one thought he would go that far, not that night, not while Mago was still laid up recovering.”

“I was one of the ones that held the Basilisk off while Mago escaped,” he said, clutching at his armored shoulder. “I managed to escape myself with a nasty shoulder wound, and we got Mago out limping and fighting the whole way. But we lost several in the initial surprise attack, and we lost three more good men just making sure our leader got out.” He spat. “And we lost even more in the ensuing battle. You saw the fallout when you finally returned; but you didn’t watch as your comrades died.”

He made direct eye contact with each of them in turn as he added, “You didn’t know which bodies belonged to which side. It’s hard to tell when we all wear the same Jackal black–when all you have to do is add a crest to a corpse to stack the numbers in your favor and make it look like you were the one who was caught off guard.”

“It doesn’t really matter who had more losses or what tactics have been used in the war,” Jade said, “we joined Manik because Mago was selling us to a king to be a pawn in human wars.”

“We were always meant to fight monsters,” Ahri said softly, “not men.”

“And yet you follow a man who attacked not only his fellow man, but his brother in arms?” Farouk spat again. “Tell me, who are the real monsters?”

“The ones,” Ahri said, angry tears streaming down her face as she drew a card from her Harrow deck, “who abandoned their brothers a long time ago to concern themselves with kings and kingdoms.” She slotted the card into the air in front of her and continued, “The ones who would whore out our great organization to pompous children with pointy golden hats.”

“Descend unto despair,” Ahri said, a deep otherworldly echo following her incantation as the harrow card shot out toward Farouk. It struck him square in the chest and passed through him as if it was nothing more than an illusion.

Farouk fell off the log he had been sitting on, clutching his head and wailing. Then after just a few moments of agony he went still.

Ahri turned to Jade, wiping tears from her eyes. “If you want to join them,” she said with a glance at Farouk, “then I won’t stop you. Not since you’ve been with me all this time. Not with all we’ve been through together these hard years.”

Jade did not move from where she still leaned on her maul. She did not respond to her companion. She did not even change her expression as she stared at the short woman who had just killed their enemy.

Ahri let out a sigh, “Its not that he didn’t make a good point,” she told her friend, “I just don’t care anymore. Both sides have done horrible things–Mago and Manik alike. I’ve chosen my hill; I’ve committed my crimes. The Jackals were always meant for more than killing men on ‘King’s orders’.” She spat the last two words.

Nodding, Jade straightened up and picked her maul up again. “Good enough for me,” she said, “we stick together. The whole lot of us are going to the dark end together–whether we ride there on the cart or the back of the serpent.” She shrugged and smiled for just a moment and with just the corners of her mouth.

Ahri actually found herself smiling back at her friend. They had killed many old friends in this civil war and would likely kill more before it was all said and done. The burden weighed heavy most days, but there were rare moments like this where it felt like the old days hunting monsters together.

“Come little Fortune Teller,” Jade said to her friend as she started walking, “maybe if we’re lucky we can find some monsters to hunt before more traditionalists catch up with us.”

“Like the good days.” Ahri said, her smile already fading as memories of Farouk around a festival table began to nudge her mind.

“Like the good days.” Jade agreed, her stoic mask obscuring any guilt she might be feeling for the old Jackal laying in the mud.

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