Chapter Text
This was supposed to be a normal day.
Filvis needed to burrow deep beneath the floors of the Dungeon, beyond the reach of sunlight and wind, to carry out her patron deity's will like she always did, like she would do for many years to come.
It didn't matter what the specific task was. They all bled together — assassination, thievery, blackmail, trickery. There was no voice of reason even attempting to stitch together whatever was left of her broken, useless elven pride. What she did have were monsters. They were the only witnesses to her crimes, lurking around the corner of the Dungeon, or else living inside of her.
Today, Filvis was tasked with murder. It was a common enough order, one that should have passed from her mind without another glance. She had already killed teammates, kinsman, children, friends. Two complete strangers shouldn't have bothered her much at this point, even if they were stronger than her normal victims.
They were an odd duo. One was a scruffy werewolf, the other a beautiful young elf. The werewolf had what was possibly the shortest temper Filvis had ever seen. He had lost his patience within the hour and ran ahead of the party without a second glance, leaving his poor partner scrambling in the dust trying to keep up.
The girl was obviously a mage, unfit for fast-paced battles and quick-travel. Her long staff was unbalanced, meant more for spellcasting than bludgeoning the skulls of minotaurs and hellhounds. Even the weakest ones of the pack frightened and overpowered her, though she held more power.
In a word, she was pathetic.
In her mind, Filvis thought that contempt rose in her chest, where her heart should have been. It wasn't there anymore, of course. Years ago, it had been ripped out and replaced a monster's magic stone, but the pulses of energy that rippled from that stone reminded her of a real heartbeat. Right now, it was beating erratically in what she decided must be hate.
The younger elf didn't seem bothered by Filvis's presence. Either she wasn't aware of her teammate's reputation for getting her party members killed, or she simply didn't care. She kept trying to strike up a conversation despite being ignored at every word.
Look at that pathetic thing. Just kill her now and put her out of her misery.
No. Not here, not now. Lord Dionysius specifically ordered them to be brought to the pantry first, before they are killed and used as fuel.
In her mind, a cruel voice spoke. That was Ein. They were two halves of the same whole, but Ein's input was never welcomed. Filvis hated her, hated herself.
They should have died years ago. They should never have been born. They should grovel and throw themselves down at the mercy of whatever good deity was left. They were both unworthy, better off dead. Now they roamed decrepit places, tinged with the smell of blood and stale booze.
Wait, booze?
With a jolt, Filvis realized that she and the other elf were no longer surrounded by caverns and stone. Instead, they were stepping through the wooden threshold of an almost-collapsed tavern, built deep in the heart of the rogue town Rivira. Well, town was a generous term. It was more a collection of wooden huts, built haphazardly with the expectation of it being destroyed sooner or later by a stray monster.
Where was she? What happened?
Filvis's party must have entered the Dungeon town while she was still deep in her self-loathing. She vaguely registered that the tavern was filled with injured adventurers. One among them was talking. He was a human without legs. He crawled with his arms, his fingernails cracking under the effort. He had blamed her for letting him lose his legs. They were not fast enough, alert enough, and so had allowed the monsters to devour his legs. Now, he was crippled, doomed to live off the scraps of the begging bowl.
His eyes reflected his hatred. It drowned her vision until she could feel her mind closing in on itself. The noise clumped together in one loud, roaring trill. The pressure on her chest grew until she thought her magic stone was ripping her insides apart and dragging the air from her lungs. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't even see-
You useless piece of trash. Get out of your head and stop wallowing in your own petty problems. What would Lord Dionysius say if he saw you being so wretched?!
No, no, no! Just, just leave!
Filvis pounded her head as she fled the tavern. She thought that she heard Ein's mocking laughter, but perhaps that belonged to the werewolf instead. 'Banshee', he had spat at her, before he abruptly left.
Filthy creature. Better off dead. Can't even die. Filthy, filthy, FILTHY-
A small, thin hand wrapped itself around Filvis's wrist.
Ack?!
Neither Ein nor Filvis could process what was happening for a moment. The young, weak, beautiful elf must have followed her out of the tavern. Her fingers had curled themselves around Filvis's wrist with unexpected strength. From that bit of contact, Filvis felt her entire body shudder.
When was the last time she had been touched? Lord Dionysius gave his affection sparingly. Filvis and Ein hungered for it, pawing at whatever kind words or fleeting caresses that he would throw their way. To anyone else, it would have been clear that he was manipulating them, stringing them along. But his love was all they knew.
Faced with this new touch, Filvis didn't know what to do. She felt paralyzed. She thought for a moment that the girl had cast a short-chant stunning spell on her, but no, that simply wasn't possible. No chants had been sung. Filvis tried to speak for herself, but only gaped like a goldfish.
What are you doing?! Shake her off!
Ein finally came to her senses and seethed in her mind, but Filvis couldn't find the willpower to shake off the girl's grip. A warmth was coursing through her entire body, and Filvis felt herself relax, as if she were under a warm ray of sunlight. Instead of a blue sky though, it was accompanied by a pair of deep blue eyes.
"You are not filthy!"
The girl was speaking. Her lips were quivering, but her eyes were strong.
"You are a strong, proud, beautiful elf! So much more so than me! You defended me when I fell behind, you didn't say a word to rebuke those men at the bar! You, are so beautiful. So, so beautiful."
Filvis was captivated, and so was Ein.
Deep down, they knew that this was a farce. She was a true monster, with a face and soul so heinous that even the blind would flinch back from.
For this moment though, she let herself believe in the girl.
Slowly, she shifted her arm so that she could loosely hold the girl's hand. The warmth and comfort came back with renewed force, and Filvis felt her breath catch in her throat.
Then, the unimaginable happened. Magic flowed to her right forearm, the one that the girl was holding only a few moments ago. Hidden to all but her own mind, she keenly felt a handprint etching itself on her skin.
It was a soulmate mark.
Filvis found her soulmate.
Oh dear gods, its her. I found her.
LIES! LIAR!
Ein had worked herself in a frenzy and Filvis was met with the mental image of her counterpart wreaking havoc in some unnamed path in the Dungeon. She felt like breaking stone too, if only to provide an outlet to the delirious joy she felt.
In ages long passed, before even the days of the Hero of the Dawn, every human and sub-human had two sets of arms, two sets of legs, and two separate heads. They were complete, and that made them strong. But the gods, fearful of being forgotten by the mortals they created, cleaved them apart with their divine power.
One soul became two, forever yearning to rejoin the other.
It used to be that each person was reincarnated as a complete being, but after the gods' cleaving, that was no longer the case. When those two souls fell prey to mortal dangers, and returned to the cycle of rebirth, they were usually lost to one another. One half might be reborn right away, but the other might not return to the living Earth for another ten thousand years. Even the ones lucky enough to be born during the same time as their other half might find themselves on other sides of the Earth.
With so many pitfalls, most people spend entire existences without reuniting with their other half. But should you be lucky enough to live during the same time, in the same place, as your other half, the gods granted you one small mercy: a mark.
When you touched your soulmate, some sort of tattoo would manifest on your body. These were astonishingly rare. Even in a massive city like Orario, home to well over 100,000 citizens of all races and origins, the amount of found pairs numbered only in the hundreds.
Despite these odds though, Filvis could now count herself among them. She let out a breathless laugh.
I found her! She found me! We're…we're…
SHUT UP! SHUT UP! You really think she'll want you?! That she'll want us?! We are monsters, murderers, filth beneath the lowest scum in Orario. Don't fool yourself.
Ein's words doused whatever joy she felt. The laughter died out. Nervously, Filvis looked up. The girl seemed a bit bashful now, what with her actions finally registering in her mind, but there was no wild surprise or glee.
See! She's not ours.
…
With her blood pounding through her head, Filvis glanced at the girl's palms. They were calloused but otherwise pristine, marred only by her frequent use of a staff.
There was no mark.
At that final confirmation of Ein's words, Filvis felt ice crawl through her veins and up her spine. For a moment she was too numb to do anything but stare at the girls unmarked palms, while the girl herself started fidgeting under the awkward silence.
Oh, the luck that we have.
Filvis wanted to cry at the absurdity of it. Here she was, born during the same time and place as her soulmate, but was so broken that the other party couldn't even recognize her. Or worst, maybe Filvis had been broken even before she was turned into a monster. Maybe she was born incomplete. Maybe she had no soulmate at all. Maybe she was doomed to always look but never find a partner.
Eventually, Filvis managed to let out a dry chuckle. This shocked the girl into an embarrassed stutter, which she tried to hide by throwing her arms in front of her flushing face. The sight struck Filvis with a sense of adoration, which Ein pointedly tried to ignore.
This…you know what, this is fine. Let me be selfish once more.
Her soulmate was not mean for her, but Filvis was willing to take what she could get. She hadn't even thought that she would ever meet her soulmate, so it was enough to have the chance to speak with her. A small smile worked its way onto Filvis's face. This was fine. Completely fine.
Look at you! Always lying to yourself! You'll settle now, but soon we'll tear her apart with greed, or else let Lord Dionysius's desire do it for us.
Just be quiet for once, will you?!
Filvis ignored Ein, and instead focused on the girl in front of her.
"You are a strange one…Lefiya."
Her name left behind a warm, fuzzy feeling in Filvis's chest. Couple that with the beaming smile Lefiya was giving her, and Filvis had to fight down the urge to engulf the other girl in a tight hug. That wouldn't be appropriate, which Ein pointed out rather vehemently. With Lefiya beaming up at her though, Filvis felt her self-control straining a bit.
"Oi!"
A rough voice barked at them from among the wooden huts.
"Are you two done yappin' yet?! Get moving! We have to catch up with Aiz!"
With that polite note, Bete the werewolf turned around and bolted towards the Dungeon town's exit, towards the entryway to the lower levels. The two elves scrambled to keep up with him, but they laughed together as they ran, complaining good-naturedly about their rough teammate.