Tread Lightly

A few minutes of blankness exist before I return to the world in an unbelievable way, the encompassing white from my fall transforming into the town square. Immediately I realize that I am not in control as I attempt to move. Internally I still sense the Concoction flowing through me, but all the Ether within my body has been expelled despite about a quarter of a syringe's worth of Concoction that remains within me.

I realize how the Bloody Palm took control as I see the fluid of the Concoction streaming toward my left hand as I hear it moan uncomfortably in its abnormal murmurs. The Concoction must be empowering it somehow. So, struggling against the artifact bonded to me, I watch through a hazy and blurred vision as my body darts from a sitting position into a direction on all fours.

I can't tell the destination of the Bloody Palm because of the filter over my perspective, but I do notice a figure that appears next to me in a flash. The Blood Palm twists my body in such a way that I would never have thought possible out of nowhere, and I feel the pain of the unnatural movement.

But I am glad for the artifact's inhuman techniques as a crescent line of darkness crosses where we were and goes over us. Instead of splitting me in half, the sharp gloaming passes us by, goes deep within a nearby building, and makes the front of it collapse.

The Bloody Palm recovers my body's movement quickly and continues its mad dash for wherever it is heading. The figure, however, interrupts my body's movement once more and attacks with more gloomy darkness. This time, the figure I now recognize as the lady talking to Johnny before he shot at her is much closer.

So, the Bloody Palm is given minimal time to dodge. But the palm still manages it, twisting so erratically and unnaturally that amidst cracks and broken bones from the movement, I am somehow not miraculously cut in twain.

I can hear the figure grunt through muffled ears as I rush further toward the Bloody Palm's destination, which I still have no idea of. However, the figure does not want me to reach wherever the artifact takes me and attacks again.

But this seems to be a killing strike, as she moves incredibly close and swipes at me in melee with a hand cloaked in unseeable dusk. As it does so, I see a glimpse of strings and a phantasmal figure above Darkstep, but it quickly fades before I can truly grasp it. Frantically, much more so than ever before, the Bloody Palm attempts to dodge, but like the being it is of survival, it is willing to lose some things to live longer.

So, similar to when it sacrificed my blood to gain more later against the Amikuk, the Bloody Palm twists and uses my right arm to deflect the hand of dusk. This reaction barely works and only slightly moves the deadly attack in exchange for losing my right arm from the elbow. However, the slight movement in the strike allows the Bloody Palm to twist my body even further, almost entirely turning my spine backward and dodging the rest of the swipe.

I don't even truly feel the loss of my arm as I am wholly dissociated from my frame. It just looks like another person who lost their limb, but I try to force myself to think logically. I may have lost a limb, but surely the palm can regenerate it, right? If it can fix a broken spine, it can undoubtedly return a lost limb.

After the arm is removed from my body, the Bloody Palm darts toward a corpse on the ground, stabbing my left arm covered in red Ether, congealed like blood, deep into its chest. Then with a pop and a flash of pain originating from my arm, I am once more in control of my body.

The first thing I genuinely see without a thick film blocking out my sight is my right palm, deep within the heart of the Occultist that drenches me in the crimson blood of the deceased. And the second thing I notice is that the Sigils within the man's corpse are missing despite him only dying a short while ago.

This discovery makes me turn my attention to the Bloody Palm, worried that it somehow devoured the Sigil within, and my speculation is proven correct. My Chain Eyes are still active despite me not being in control, and I see only upon the pale left hand of mine turquoise chains. A color further down the rainbow than previously.

The Bloody Palm is now somehow a 5th Sigiled artifact. Fuck. Now it will be even harder to resist. Just when I thought I was making progress in removing the artifact as a threat to my life. At least it's evolving its Sigil right now, giving me control once more.

A yell from Johnny wakes me out of my introspection.

"MOVE, BOY!"

The tone and volume of his voice make me immediately move backward, turn to face where the danger last was, and throw up both of my arms. Or my one whole arm and the other that ends at the elbow. When I spin around, I see another crescent of darkness flying at me sideways, seeking to decapitate me.

The crescent of night is moving so fast that all I can do is bend backward as it comes into contact with my left arm, splitting the forearm off of me. The time it took to cut through the arm empowered by the Bloody Palm gave me just enough leeway to limbo backward. I bend far back enough that the deadly darkness only cuts off a portion of my scraggly hair and blows off my hat from Edmund. And I tilt rearward so quickly that I fall flat onto my ass, the woman staring down at me through a mask of gloom.

Both relief and sadness fill me as I see the Bloody Palm leave my body and fly into the air from the momentum of being cut off. On the one hand, pun not intended, I don't have to worry about the artifact taking over my mind and body. But on the other, I am now without any hands and no way to regain them. Maybe I can reattach the arm that was just cut off, but something tells me by the way my skin is turning slightly necrotic where I was cut, that won't work.

So bittersweet melancholy fills me as the Bloody Palm falls toward the ground beside me, but just before the artifact hits the ground, tendrils of gray flesh exit from the base of the hand. These tendrils shoot straight for my left arm, attaching to the newly amputated portion of my arm.

As it does so with a piercing pain that spreads all along within me up to my brain like tendrils, the woman flits toward me to finish the job. But before she gets the chance, bullets land in her way, forcing her to step back and momentarily cease her attempted murder.

The woman with a hood shrouded in darkness turns to look at Johnny, who fired the bullets. The Gunfighter speaks up for me.

"See, old hag? Should have believed me when I told you the first time. That's a real Graves right there. Takes a double dose like it's nothin' and recovers from Artifiction in the same way. If you truly wish to kill either or even both of us, I advise doing it another day. My men are nearby, and when they arrive, it will be all of them, a nearly unkillable young man, and me, the sharpshooter who will relentlessly pursue you with lead as you chase them down."

Johnny puffs his chin as he stares down the old lady.

"So what's it gonna be? We gonna fight to the death today? Or will you be wise? Continuing to fight just hurts both of us. I'm sure you got other jobs to do. Is this truly the hill you wish to die on?"

While Johnny bullshits the hag about having men nearby to back him up, I resist the return of the Bloody Palm. Or, more accurately, it's conquering return. I use my Ether-infused will to create a wall at my elbow, a point that I feel will be easier to defend than any part of my forearm. Then, I Daydream of a blockade in my body that keeps out all mental powers at that same point.

To further increase my defense against the newly advanced Bloody Palm, I braid the Ether for Daydream, twisting the streams of Ether into tight ropes that enhance each other. Now that I have a 3rd Sigil, I understand what Virgil meant about each Sigil innately being able to use a new form of Ether. The Braided Strand way of using Ether is a dozen, no, a hundred times easier now that I have advanced. It also helps that I now have greater control of Ether, and the amount of Ether I can manipulate has risen tremendously.

It no longer requires an immense amount of pressure of Ether that can only be achieved during a Strugglers Gasp. It now only requires my will to press down onto it, twist it, and pull the pieces tightly together. Fortifying my Sigil skills will significantly increase my fighting strength and lower my chances of losing to the Bloody Palm.

These skills all happen so quickly that the blockade is made at my elbow before the Bloody Palm fully reattaches. And the elbow is so tightly bound of Ether that an effervescent and multi-colored band of Ether is tied around the joint like a tourniquet.

When the Bloody Palm fully reattaches to me, I see tendrils of gray flesh burrow through my arm, seeking the rest of my body. Each inch of my arm they spread through makes me grunt in pain as they slowly approach the tourniquet of Ether.

I am distracted from the pain and the sight of my entire forearm being infiltrated by a foreign force by the woman whose face is shrouded in darkness speaking.

"I honestly was not expecting to meet Killian's son in the middle of the boonies, that's for sure. It is also surprising to see him Artificed. I suppose if anyone would be resistant to becoming a true Wendigo, it would be one of them. That or one of the Giles. Some people are just born with advantages, aren't they, Johnny? I would much instead end the threat of both of you today, but sadly it seems the chance will not arrive. I have other things to do, and killing you both would take far too long for me to do them. That is what it means to be a Forerunner, after all. Always on the move. We are simply too important to not be."

Her head twists as she counters Johnny with an offer.

"How about this, Johnny? I will come back with some other people to end your little rebellion. That is if Hura doesn't slay you all upon his arrival with his horde. I would much rather kill you myself, however, so I will give you a bit of a warning."

Darkstep takes a step forward, her words eliciting her warning.

"There is a reason why he saw Killian as a rival long ago. Demons only respect power, authority, and their Goddess. However, some do find specific humans as rivals and seek to kill them and them only. For a demon to see a man such as the Undying as a rival, he must not be too far off from the man's capabilities. Or at least his capabilities from his last time fighting the demon before the Prime sent him on his final mission before his disappearance. Hura is much more powerful than you, Johnny. I might not have fought him before but I have spoken to Killian many times. He spoke quite highly of the demon's innate talents."

After a brief pause in her sentence, the woman looks around at the town in scorn. I gasp while she does so out of pain from the Bloody Palm meeting my tourniquet.

"This place is not enough to drive him off, let alone kill him. He will come in a thunderous tornado, leveling all that resides. After all, the demon is named after the God of Weather, Hurakan. I hope you choose to run instead of fighting Hura, Johnny. I love nothing more than putting down foolish rebels. All you seek is hubris, and it will only lead to even more suffering. May you two have a merry struggle against Death as you wait for me to deliver you unto her."

A short pause ensues before I see the woman's feet become covered in shadows that slowly grow up to her head, covering her entirely. Once fully covered in tenebrous darkness, she disappears simply with a burst of wind that sends sand flying everywhere.

My attention is forced back onto my arm as the pain only continues to grow from the Bloody Palm's attempt to reach its dark tendrils into me. Several abnormal gray veins reach up to my left elbow, making my arm look disgusting. There is only one thing I can do besides just putting more Ether in to fix the problem.

I look down at my clothes that have been completely torn apart and pull off a strand of cloth. Then, with one veiny and bizarre hand and my teeth, I tighten a physical tourniquet to aid my tourniquet of Ether. With an additional point of focus, I place my newly empowered will onto the cloth tourniquet, further reinforcing the bastion against the encroaching madness.

Only at this point does the pain lessen, but the Bloody Palm's attempts do not. The veins on my left forearm begin to squirm and move around like grayish worms beneath my skin as my forearm is slowly turned gray as well. The pigment of my skin gradually fades from my tan to a stone gray. Before my arm entirely turns gray, however, I hear a man hit the sand.

I look over and see Johnny kneeling beside a limp Primose beneath where she was impaled. Curious and wanting to do anything to distract me from the pain in my elbow, I walk to them.

As I stand, I feel the Bloody Palm send a wave of rejuvenation through me. I don't know, but the palm doesn't want me to die. Instantly I feel myself heal much faster than usual as the flesh and muscle that had fallen off of me from going too far with Ether begin to return to me. The bone grows from other bones, nerves from the bones, muscles from the nerves, and skin from the muscles.

Halfway to the two of them, I find one of my serpentine daggers in the sand-covered ground. I bend over and pick it up, looping it on one of the few remaining pieces of my belt before continuing my stride to Johnny.

By the time I reach Johnny and the unconscious and possibly dead Primrose, all my injuries have recovered except for my missing arm. That one is taking longer to recover. Only about half of my forearm has returned so far. I guess it's harder to fully recreate a limb than to reconstruct a limb that mainly exists already.

I kneel to get a view of what Johnny is doing, and I see him furiously bandaging the woman's wounds while cursing. I notice he deigned to leave the javelin within her so she doesn't bleed to death. And just as I go to ask him if he needs help, I hear a massive explosion behind me that has a blast of sand too fast to react to that follow it. It knocks Johnny and me over, and the man looks at me after we recover from the blast.

"She cut off your right arm, huh?"

Realizing the meaning of his words from the explosion and the lack of cool metal on my arm because of the lack of the arm in the first place.

The Deadman's switch went off. That's one less thing that I have to worry about. I could just leave now; I no longer have anything holding a blade or bomb against my throat. I'm pretty happy that things turned out how they did. Because if that bomb had gone off while attached to me, I'd turn to bloody mist.

I see through the smoky square that the explosion woke up both Virgil and Earl, whatever knocked them out and almost put me out, disappearing with the absence of the lady in black.

While I could leave, I don't think I will. I like the idea of aiding Johnny in his rebellion. Plus, I got friends here. Earl also seems to want to stay here, or at least that's what I got from our short conversation. So, I think I'll stay. At least for the break and to kill that damned demon. Who I learned is named Hura. I want that vial that came from Edmund. No demon should have that man's legacy.

To make my time here both less miserable and to save one of the few people here who were kind to me, I ask what I can do to help.

"Yeah, that freak got my arm. The Bloody Palm is working on healing it for now, though. Is there anything I can do to help? She looks like she's about to die."

Johnny looks at me for just a brief moment, and I notice just how tired he looks. The veteran is nowhere near as old as Edmund, but his eyes tell a different story. He looks exhausted, carried only by pure will and perseverance. He grits his teeth before answering.

"She is likely going to die. The hole in her stomach is fatal, and the battle lasted for far too long for immediate medical aid. The only thing we can really do at this point is try to keep her alive until Heath arrives. Do you know your blood type?"

I shake my head; I don't even know what a blood type is.

"Damn it! I can't donate to her. My blood isn't compatible. Wait… Earl! Get over here!"

Earl comes springing over at the call for him, the unathletic man traversing the recent battlefield littered with bullets, bodies, and even bombs.

"Yeah, Johnny?"

"Take this."

Johnny hands Earl another Concoction as my eyes go wide. This man has so many! We were struggling to even procure one, and he had three! Speaking of, where the hell is Vernon? Virgil has the same thought as we meet gazes and the Darkstalker Masks, disappearing to look for his brother.

"You want me to take a Concoction?"

Johnny nods at Earl's question.

"There is only one way that Primrose lives through this. If Wyatt's blood is compatible. If it isn't, she dies from blood loss. If it is, then he can keep providing her blood to sustain her until she heals because of his artifact. There is about a fifty percent chance that Wyatt's blood will work; this comes purely from experience in the field. So, Earl. Do your work. Bend the chances. Do so until you're out of steam, then if you're not confident in the chances, take the Concoction to rest your Ether and go again. Your Sigil is made for times like these."

Earl licks his lips at what Johnny says and agrees after a moment of hesitation. The man squats down next to us and places an arm on Primrose and me. I can feel Ether touch upon me for a scarce second as he closes his eyes to focus. Then small sensations of waviness pass through me here and there.

After a few stressful minutes that I am forced to wait with grim anxiety, Earl opens his eyes, drenched in sweat and panting. Johnny asks whether or not he needs to go again.

"Do you need to take the Concoction? I still have one left if you need it. Or are we good to proceed? Primrose is running out of time. Her heart is barely beating."

Earl wipes away his sweat as he nods at the two of us.

"We're good to go. I can feel it. Thankfully you didn't know your blood type, Wyatt. I can only bend the uncertain and undecided."

Johnny and I take this as an affirmation as I hold out my right arm growing back; it is now up to the wrist after about five total minutes of healing. Johnny shakes his head and points at my leg.

"Bigger artery. We're cutting your leg for blood. She's gonna need a bunch."

I nod, confused, but I believe him as I roll up my pant leg. Then, Johnny takes out a few empty bottles and makes the dizzy Earl find the two syringes he used on me.

After Earl goes off to find the syringes so that we can put the blood into Primrose, I take one of my daggers and sink it into the flesh of my leg. Blood seeps out into my hand and down to the bottles below me.