Shadow of the First Sin

“Has he been following us the entire time?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.

“Who?” Silas spoke, oblivious to the Talon hopping from shadow to shadow behind us.

“Since the ceremony; he hid in the crowd, observing us,” Orion remarked calmly.

“Will someone tell me who?” Silas inquired again, albeit louder this time.

“The Talon we spared from Buckleberry. And keep your voice down; you’ll wake half of Vixen’s Veil,” I said in a hushed tone.

“How am I supposed to sleep now, knowing there’s a literal assassin on our tail wanting to murder us?” Silas panicked.

“Why would he want to murder us?” I questioned.

“Oh, I don’t know!” Silas whined, sarcasm lacing his words. “Maybe because you killed his entire bloody order! What if he had family there?”

“Alright, I get it! You sit here and wait, I’ll handle it.” I said as I rose to my feet, ready to jump off the wagon.

“But don’t murder him! Try to talk to him first and ask him nicely to stop following us like some creep. If that doesn’t work, then you can murder him, but gently, though!”

“How do you murder someone gently?” I asked, confused.

“You know, ease him into it. Like you would a virgin—first you have to—”

“I don’t need to hear the rest of it,” I interrupted.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Kaela added, her face twisted in disgust.

“If you let me finish, I promise it would make sense. Like I was saying, you need to—” Just as he began explaining, I took to the air as quickly as I could, until Silas’s voice faded, and I didn’t have to hear the rest of that story.

I flew a few meters above the ground, keeping beneath the treetops to avoid drawing attention. As I neared the spot where I last saw the Talon, I noticed he had stopped moving, hidden somewhere in the shadows of the poorly lit forest.

“Come on out,” I called in a calm and reassuring voice. “If you meant us harm, you wouldn’t be so easy to spot. Now, why are you following us?”

The rustling of dry leaves and the crackling of branches drew my attention downward. From the thickest bushes and tallest grass, the Talon crawled out. Spiderwebs tangled his hair, and mud smeared his hands and knees. He must have hidden there when he saw me approaching. A Talon, who could jump into a shadow and emerge leagues away, hid behind a bush like a kid playing hide-and-seek.

“I’m Finn. Finn Daggerfell,” the Talon said, his boyish face and innocent eyes illuminated by the moonlight. “That night in Buckleberry was my first mission, sir. I only joined them because I had no money and nowhere else to go—but mainly because I had no money.”

“And you’re telling me this because?” I asked, skeptical.

“I wish you to take me with you, sir!” he exclaimed.

“And why would I do that? You almost killed a friend of Orion, the big white-haired guy who wanted to kill you; remember?”

“I didn’t kill a soul while in the Talon’s order, sir! I only joined them a week ago, and for most of the battle against you and the big guy, I was hiding in the shadows.”

“Why were you hiding?”

“Because I was afraid, sir,” he said directly, not trying to hide the truth to appear stronger but embracing his fear.

“You still haven’t answered my question. Why should I take you with me? You might not hold any resentment towards us, but Orion will forever think of you as one of them—a Talon who caused his friend’s suffering. Why would you want to be part of a group that doesn’t want you?”

“No group has ever wanted me, sir. Since my childhood, I’ve never known what it’s like to have a home; I was an orphan. And this isn’t some sad story to make you pity me and take me in—it’s the truth. In the orphanage, I learned what evil was, and that evil shaped who I am today. As in many orphanages, money was scarce, and we often went to bed with empty stomachs. The Sisters of the Ethereal Cloak were in charge, and every donation the orphanage received went straight to their pockets instead of to the starving orphans, whose bellies bloated from hunger. From them, I learned it was alright to steal because it was the only way to survive. But the world doesn’t see it that way; it’s alright if the rich steal, but not the poor. Why is that?” he asked.

“Because when the rich steal, it’s called business, and when the poor steal, it’s theft. I still don’t understand—why are you telling me this?”

“Well, maybe I lied. Maybe I’m telling you this so you’ll take pity on me and bring me along, like you did before,” he admitted, his confidence wavering as he lowered his head.

“It wasn’t pity that saved you; it was a hunch, that’s all,” I responded.

“Hunches exist for a reason, sir! I once had a hunch that a baron would return to his estate drunk and leave the front door open. Guess what?” he asked, confidence returning to his eyes.

“He left the door open?”

“Yes, he did! One of the easiest heists I’ve ever done!” he exclaimed.

“Just tell me why I should take you with me,” I said, tired of his detours mid-conversation.

“Hm, why indeed?” He paused, thinking for a moment. “I’ll just start naming things about myself and hope something catches your eye.” Clearing his throat, he began, “I may be young, but in my 18 years, I’ve lived through more than some do in a lifetime. After escaping the orphanage, I learned to hide and steal to survive. It wasn’t always easy—I got caught and beaten senseless by those I stole from. That’s how I learned to fight. I was never good with my fists or swords, but when I grabbed a dagger, it felt like it belonged in my hand. I’m fast and quiet, and since joining the Talons, I attained their power and now I can blend into shadows. What more? Oh! I always wanted to be a pirate! I wanted to explore the open seas where no one could find me, to be just a tiny crumb in the ocean’s vastness. Leaving for another dimension, where no one knows me, even if it’s dangerous, would be a dream come true. So please, take me there. I’ll stay there forever if you don’t want me by your side. Please, I have nowhere else to go.”

“You like pirates?” I asked, smiling.

“Oh, well, when I was a kid, y’know?” he blushed, trying to cover his embarrassment.

“You can come,” I declared.

“What?” he blurted out, surprised by my answer.

“You heard me. Now, don’t trail behind; the carriage must have traveled far by now.” I said, taking to the air and heading eastward, where the carriage was last headed.

The moment he mentioned pirates, my heart softened. It brought back memories of a life I used to live. It reminded me of my little sister, Iris, who played every day by the stream with sticks—sabres, she called them—pretending to be a pirate. She’s about the same age now as Finn, and when he mentioned something that reminded me of her, I just couldn’t say no. I just hope Orion doesn’t kill me when he finds out.