Godless Blood: Last Apostle

The sun hung low over the wastelands, casting long, jagged shadows that stretched across the cracked earth.

The air was thick, heavy with dust and the smell of old death. Lena moved like a spectre through the ruins, her silent footsteps leaving no trace behind her. A cloak of faded black fabric blended seamlessly with the darkened landscape, her face obscured by the shadows of her hood. A black mask covered the lower half of her face, leaving only the sharp glint of her eyes visible.

She had long ago learned the art of blending into the darkness, becoming part of it, a ghost. The Duskborn guild had honed her skills—assassination, sabotage, espionage—until they were as much a part of her as her own breath. And today, her mission was simple: kill the Seraphic spies that had wandered too far into the wastelands. Their presence was an insult. They didn't belong here, and Lena was more than happy to send them to whatever gods they worshiped, or to oblivion if they had none.

Her fingers brushed the hilt of her dagger as she approached the cave. It was a known hideout, a place where only those who needed to be forgotten ever came. A fitting place for an execution.

Inside, the sound of muffled voices echoed faintly. Lena slipped inside with the grace of a predator. The men were already waiting, unaware of the shadow that had followed them.

"Thought you'd be meeting someone?" she purred, her voice a silken threat as she stepped into view.

One of the men jumped, his hand reaching instinctively for a weapon, but it was already too late. Lena's daggers flashed, catching the faintest glimmer of light before sinking deep into his throat.

The other man turned, eyes wide in panic, but before he could even react, her second blade sliced through the air and buried itself in his chest.

Their bodies crumpled, and Lena wiped the blood from her hands, her movements efficient, cold. She didn't have time to linger. She had a job to finish.

As the last breath left the men's bodies, a rustle in the back of the cave caught her attention.

Lena froze. Her eyes narrowed behind the mask.

It was a boy.

A small, thin figure, huddled at the farthest corner of the cave, his back pressed against the cold stone. His silver hair shone in the dim light, an odd, unnatural flash against the backdrop of shadow. His wide eyes were fixed on her with a mixture of fear and curiosity, and he didn't make a sound as he stared. In his hands was something else… A dagger seemingly made out of darkness.

For a moment, Lena hesitated, her breath steadying. A child? In the middle of this desolate wasteland? And the dagger…

She could feel her pulse quicken—this wasn't part of the plan. The boy must've seen everything, heard everything. And yet… she couldn't bring herself to kill him.

She could kill men without hesitation. She could erase lives without blinking. But this—this was different. The child's presence, his fear, his uncertainty—it left a taste in her mouth that she couldn't quite place.

Lena glanced back at the bodies of the men she had just killed. They were nothing to her, just another task, another contract fulfilled. But the boy, with his wide silver eyes, was another story entirely.

Her mind flickered through the possibilities, each more brutal than the last. She could leave him here, let the desert take him. He was a witness, and the guild would expect nothing less… Or she could end his suffering right here. But something in her gut twisted at the thought. Maybe it was the fleeting innocence in his eyes. Maybe it was the fact that he was, despite everything, just a child.

"Hey," she said, her voice softening, though the harsh edge never fully left her tone. "You're not dead yet, are you?"

The boy didn't answer. He didn't even move.

Lena crouched low, her mask tilted to one side as she studied him. His breath was shallow, his body trembling, but he was alive.

After a beat, she let out a small sigh and stood up, sheathing her blades.

"I'm not going to kill you, kid," she muttered, her words harsh but strangely… resigned. "But you've got two choices. One: you stay here and die alone. Two: you come with me. But know this, I'll be holding onto you. And I don't do charity."

The boy's eyes flickered, a spark of something, maybe hope, maybe fear. But he didn't speak.

Lena didn't give him much more time to think. She walked over, her boots crunching softly against the cave floor. She bent down, reached out, and grabbed the boy by the arm, lifting him with ease despite his small protests.

He was weak—too weak to fight back, too weak to resist.

"You've seen too much. You come with me," she said firmly, eyes already scanning the dark tunnel leading out. "I'll take you to the Guild. If you're lucky, you'll learn something useful. If not…" She trailed off, her voice cold as steel. "Well, you're still alive. That's more than most get."

As Lena walked out of the cave, the boy's silence was unnerving. She had killed countless people in her life, but this child? This was… strange. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about him gnawed at her gut.

She looked down at him once more as they emerged into the harsh light of the wasteland.

"My name's Lena," she said. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

The boy, still holding onto her with a tight grip, shook his head silently.

"Good," Lena said with a smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Now, stay out of my way, and maybe I'll make sure you don't become a liability."

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and continued forward, her thoughts drifting to the Guild. This boy… He could be useful. Maybe he'd prove to be more than just another lost soul in the wastelands.

"…What's your name?"

The boy stared up at her, before opening his dry mouth… But nothing came out. 

Lena tilted her head, as she couldn't help but feel a bit concerned.

"…Alright. I'll just call you Silver, then. The same color of your hair."

And just like that, the boy's eyes immediately widened, as if remembering something far in the past. A single tear rolled down his cheeks, as he stared at her. 

Lena flinched, before kneeling down, checking if the boy had any open wounds on him.

"Hey, are you okay? Why are you crying? Are you hurt? …Do you not like the name?"

The boy stood there for a second, before slowly wiping the tears in his eyes with his sandy hands, and slowly shook his head. Lena sighed, before giving him a worried look, and then standing back up.

"…Alright, then." She whispered, exhaling. "What a weird kid."

And together, they walked outside the darkness of the cave, and into the morning sun.