THE REPEATED STEP
Halkan pushed the door open.
Jalatta entered first.
Safsan's weight was leaning heavily against him.
"Here."
Halkan moved aside.
Jalatta helped Safsan across the small house and lowered him carefully onto the bed.
Safsan did not resist.
He barely had the strength to.
His body sank into the mattress.
Jalatta adjusted him until he was lying properly.
Halkan remained beside the bed.
Silent.
Watching.
Safsan slowly opened his eyes.
And Halkan froze.
It wasn't his face.
It wasn't his condition.
It was his eyes.
For one brief moment, the room disappeared.
The fire disappeared.
Jalatta disappeared.
Even the Mist Forest disappeared.
Halkan was looking at another pair of eyes.
Eyes that had once looked back at her...
without anger.
Even when they had every reason to.
Her breathing stopped.
And suddenly—
she remembered.
The spear entered Isa's body.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Halkan's hands were still wrapped around the shaft.
Isa looked down.
Blood spread slowly across his clothes.
Then he looked back at her.
There was no anger in his eyes.
That was what made it worse.
Halkan's fingers trembled.
Isa's hand closed around the spear.
Halkan's eyes widened.
"Isa—"
He pulled.
Not away.
Forward.
The spearhead drove deeper into him.
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Halkan immediately tried to release it.
But Isa held the shaft firmly.
His breathing changed.
Once.
Twice.
He looked at her as though there were a thousand things left to say.
Yet when his mouth finally opened, his voice was strangely calm.
"When the spearhead bit into my flesh..."
Blood touched his lips.
"...I did not pull away."
Halkan stared at him.
Isa tightened his grip.
"I drove it deeper."
His knees weakened.
But he remained standing.
"In the land of my people, we do not heal every wound with tears."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"We tame the pain..."
His grip loosened.
"...until it learns to become strength."
His hand fell.
Isa collapsed.
Halkan caught him before his body struck the ground.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
She simply held him.
The man the people of the Citadel had once called—
ISA JAALALAAN MARAATE.
THE ONE DRIVEN MAD BY LOVE.
Now silent in her arms.
The wind passed through the trees.
And somewhere far away...
a river continued flowing.
As though nothing had happened.
As though the world had not just lost someone.
Halkan lowered her head.
"Halkan?"
Her eyes opened.
NOW.
Mist Forest.
The fire cracked softly inside her house.
Isa was gone.
The river was gone.
The blood on her hands was gone.
Safsan was lying on the bed.
And Jalatta was standing beside her.
"Halkan?"
She looked at him.
Jalatta had noticed.
"What is it?"
Halkan said nothing.
She looked back at Safsan.
His eyes were closed again.
She turned away.
Then—
STEP.
Halkan stopped.
Jalatta looked toward the door.
A few seconds passed.
STEP.
Safsan's eyes opened.
Another pause.
STEP.
Exactly the same sound.
Same weight.
Same distance.
Same rhythm.
Safsan slowly pushed himself upward.
Halkan immediately looked at him.
"Stay down."
Safsan ignored her.
"What is that?"
Nobody answered.
STEP.
Someone was walking through the mist.
Halkan moved toward the door.
She opened it.
Cold fog entered the house.
Jalatta followed.
Safsan forced himself from the bed.
His body protested immediately.
But he walked.
At first, there was nothing outside.
Only trees.
Mist.
Wet earth.
Then—
STEP.
A figure appeared between two distant trunks.
Humanoid.
Tall.
Still mostly hidden by the fog.
It took another step.
Safsan looked down.
Footprints.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
His eyes narrowed.
Every footprint was identical.
Not similar.
Identical.
Same depth.
Same length.
Same angle.
Even the displaced mud beside each heel looked repeated.
Jalatta whispered,
"What kind of person walks like that?"
The figure stopped.
Silence.
Then it moved.
One step left.
Turn.
Lower the shoulder.
Right foot forward.
Hand toward the waist.
Stop.
The figure returned to its original position.
Then—
One step left.
Turn.
Lower the shoulder.
Right foot forward.
Hand toward the waist.
Stop.
Again.
One step left.
Turn.
Lower the shoulder.
Right foot forward.
Hand toward the waist.
Stop.
Safsan watched carefully.
Not one movement differed.
Not even slightly.
The fog shifted.
The figure disappeared.
Jalatta stepped toward the doorway.
"Where did he—"
Halkan grabbed his arm.
"Don't."
Jalatta froze.
Safsan looked at her.
For the first time since they had entered her house...
Halkan looked afraid.
A sound came from behind them.
STEP.
Safsan turned.
Nothing.
STEP.
From the left.
He turned again.
Nothing.
STEP.
Right.
Then—
CRACK.
A branch fell from above.
The figure moved.
One step left.
Turn.
Lower the shoulder.
Right foot forward.
Hand toward the waist—
Its foot landed on the fallen branch.
The branch rolled.
The sequence broke.
For the first time...
the figure's movement changed.
Only slightly.
But Safsan saw it.
So did Halkan.
The humanoid hunter became completely still.
It looked down at the branch.
Then slowly raised its head.
Safsan could not clearly see its face through the mist.
But he knew one thing.
It was looking directly at him.
SEENEE:
There are fighters who become dangerous because they are strong.
There are fighters who become dangerous because they are fast.
There are fighters who become dangerous because they know what you are going to do.
And then...
there are those who remove the possibility of their own mistakes.
I had heard stories about this one.
A hunter whose first footprint...
and thousandth footprint...
could be indistinguishable.
A being who practiced a movement until repetition stopped looking human.
But there was something important about perfection.
Something people often forgot.
A perfect answer remains perfect...
only while the question remains the same.
The hunter moved again.
Step.
Turn.
Lower.
Forward.
Draw.
Something left its hand.
Safsan moved his head.
A thin blade passed his cheek.
THUD.
It buried itself in the wooden wall behind him.
Jalatta stared at it.
Safsan touched his cheek.
A line of blood appeared on his finger.
The hunter repeated the movement.
Step.
Turn.
Lower.
Forward.
Draw.
Safsan moved before the blade was released.
THUD.
Another blade struck the wall.
Same place.
Almost the exact same depth.
Safsan's expression changed.
He understood.
Not everything.
But enough.
The hunter took its next step.
The ground received the same footprint again.
SEENEE:
His name?
No.
Not yet.
Names are useful when someone intends to introduce themselves.
This thing had not come here to speak.
It had come to repeat something.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Until whatever stood at the end of the sequence...
stopped standing.
The hunter disappeared into the mist.
STEP.
Safsan looked toward Halkan.
"Who is he?"
Halkan's eyes remained fixed on the forest.
Her answer came quietly.
"JHARA."
The footsteps stopped.
Halkan's expression changed.
"No..."
She corrected herself.
"JHARAA."
Silence.
Then, deeper inside the forest—
STEP.
SEENEE:
JHARAA.
THE REPEATED STEP.
There was something Safsan did not know.
Something Jalatta did not know.
Perhaps even Halkan did not fully understand.
The mist surrounding them was not hiding JHARAA.
It was giving him room to practice.
And somewhere beyond those trees...
a sequence had already begun.
One that had been repeated so many times...
that its final movement no longer required thought.
STEP.
STEP.
STEP.
Welcome to BAAČ.
The Continent of Burden had finally sent its hunter.