They’re not new to death, after twenty or so years of living. People and animals kill to feed themselves and others, to survive. They’re not new to loss either. They saw the light leave their father’s eyes far too early and then the streets behind the orphanage were but filled to the brim with sickness and alcohol, the tears never enough to forget what could not be saved. They’re not new to the blood of others and their own, to killing, to the light that expires after a dagger pierces one’s heart. They’ve seen it more times than they can count now since they joined hands with this crew of travelers.

They’re not used to crimson red tinting their fingers and eyes that look into their soul as they close their fist around a spell that steals the life of their attacker. The dying gasp of the man before his body falls limp to the ground echoes in their ears and haunts their mind. The promise they made to the moon shatters.

What do you do when the one thing that you were sure of, that you were not a killer like those that took your father’s life, suddenly disappear right in front of you? Can you take a look at yourself in the mirror and recognize your face through the blood and the tears, knowing nothing can be undone? But you were good… you did it for the right reasons… your friends, they…

But you killed. And your powers may be grand but you were not gifted with the ability to reverse time. Or you would have gone to save your father. Or you would have gone to your mother before she gave you away and remembered her face and begged her not to let your mortal father and self alone in the night… You would have told her she couldn’t protect you, high on her throne behind the divine gate.

And the tears flow. You’ve killed once, but your friends killed many for you, to protect you. Maybe your father did, too; after all, he gave you the necklace on that very day -- he must have known fate would catch up to him then. You’re a killer, and the blood may be gone from your hands but you know your fingers are tinted. And they shall remain tinted until it is your turn to gasp your last breath around a dagger that will pierce your heart.