Shards Beneath the Westerlands

The town was quiet, almost too quiet, Kaitlyn thought. She lingered at the edge of the cobbled path that led into the square, just behind the shelter of an old oak tree. Her fingers brushed lightly over the rough bark, the texture grounding her, as her eyes scanned the settlement. It wasn't much, a few shops clustered together, the smoke rising from chimneys curling lazily into the sky, and a handful of villagers moving about their business. The usual hum of activity felt foreign to her.

She had only come for supplies - a new pouch of dried herbs, some thread for mending her clothing - but she couldn't shake the feeling that something here wasn't quite right. It was a feeling that came to her sometimes, when she stepped out of the woods and into the chaos of human settlements. People were unpredictable. Too many faces, too many voices. Kaitlyn moved forward, her steps light and deliberate. Her presence was a quiet one, always lingering in the background, observing. She wasn't someone to draw attention, but she knew she stood out here in the town, even if she didn't want to.

The stranger appeared suddenly - almost too suddenly - as if the air around him had shifted the moment Kaitlyn stepped into the square. He was a tall man, dressed in a deep red cloak that fluttered around him like a shadow, his eyes dark and unreadable. His gaze turned towards Kaitlyn, settling on her with precision. She froze for a moment, meeting his eyes for just a heartbeat before she forced herself to look away. He didn't seem like one of the regular merchants, not like someone she had ever seen around here before. His face was sharp, his features well groomed in contrast to the ruggedness of the village life. The man held himself with an air of quiet authority, yet there was something about him that didn't quite sit right with her. His eyes lingered a moment longer, and Kaitlyn could almost feel his assessment of her, though his expression didn't change.

For a moment, Kaitlyn hesitated. Should she simply slip away into the background, or face this stranger. She could feel the old habits creeping in, the walls she had built up to keep people at arm's length. But something about him made her pause. She couldn't quite place it - an odd instinct, perhaps. She straightened her posture slightly, taking a breath to steady herself before approaching the merchant stall she had been eyeing earlier. "Good day," she said politely, as the stranger looked at her, keeping her voice soft but steady. It seemed like the right moment to speak, even if her feelings told her not to do so. She picked up a bundle of dried herbs. Her fingers lingered over them, her attention half on the stall, half on the stranger, who was still watching her from the corner of her eye.

The stranger's footsteps echoed behind her before he spoke, his voice smooth but with a touch of intrigue. "I didn't expect to find someone like you here." Kaitlyn's hand stilled for just a moment, her instincts flaring. She could tell this wasn't just a casual greeting. There was something in his tone, something that made her skin prickle with unease. She turned to face him slightly, offering only a small, polite nod in response. "I'm not sure what you mean," she replied, her gaze briefly flicking toward him before quickly returning to the herbs. She was careful to avoid making eye contact for too long. The stranger smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "A woman of nature, I suppose. Not many of your kind venture so far from the wild. Curious..."

The words were subtle, but Kaitlyn could hear the underlying implication in them. She knew better than to engage too deeply, especially with someone who didn't belong here. She gave a slight shrug, keeping her tone neutral. "I go where I need to," she said simply, trying to mask the tension that was beginning to rise within her. He regarded her for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing slightly, before he finally nodded. "Of course. I'm sure you do." Kaitlyn didn't respond, only nodded once, her fingers tightening around the herbs in her hand. Without another word, the stranger turned and walked away, his red cloak disappearing into the crowd. She stood there for a brief moment, watching him go, before her mind started to settle. Her hand slowly unclenched, and she found herself exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

It wasn't the first time she had encountered someone like that - someone who saw through her calm exterior and tried to read her deeper than she was willing to allow. But for some reason, today felt different. She didn't know what that man wanted, and she didn't trust him. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Kaitlyn tucked the herbs into her pouch and headed back towards her camp in the woods, where she felt home.

The unease lingered with Kaitlyn longer than she expected. The stranger had left as abruptly as he came, but his words stuck with her, echoing in the quiet moments when her mind wandered. Kaitlyn couldn't shake the feeling that his visit wasn't a coincidence. He had seen her. Really seen her. The way his eyes had lingered on her, assessing - she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was as though he knew her, as though he'd been looking for her. Perhaps he was just another traveler, someone who had a knack for sizing up people, but something in the back of her mind told her that wasn't the case.

She usually avoided the town and its people, sticking to the edges of the wilderness, where she felt safest. But even in the quiet of the forest, the shadow of that encounter still followed her, whispering doubts in her ear. What if he wasn't just a passerby? What if he had known who she really was all along? It wasn't for long before she got her answer.

Kaitlyn was kneeling by the edge of the little creek, she used to follow when she went to the town. The evening sun casting long shadows, her bow slung across her back, she was keen to get back to the camp she had built for herself in the forest, but she wasn't looking forward to the leatherwork awaiting her. The tanning vats always left stains on her skin, and the smells were quite unpleasant. Usually she would leave this part of the work to the tanner near the town, or simply sell the raw hides to him. But he never got the leather soft enough, so for crafting her personal items, she preferred to do it all herself. As she carefully filled her waterskin, a familiar figure stepped into view, his red cloak fluttering in the breeze. She froze. There he was, standing just a few feet away, as if he had been waiting for her. The air between them felt charged, thick with something unsaid. His eyes still unreadable, but there was no mistaking the knowing glint in them. He wasn't surprised to see her.

"Kaitlyn," he said, his voice as smooth as it had been the first time they spoke. It wasn't a question, but a statement, as though he had been waiting for her to show herself. Her heart skipped a beat. How did he know her name? She had been careful, kept her distance from everyone, even in the small town. The last thing she expected was for this stranger to find her here, in the very heart of the wilderness where she sought refuge.

She stood up slowly, her hand never straying far from the hilt of her knife. Her eyes narrowed as she struggled to maintain her composure, but inside, her thoughts raced. "How do you know my name?" she asked, keeping her voice steady despite the shock creeping up her spine. He smiled, a little too knowingly. "I know much more than that, Lady Westerland." The revelation - that he knew her true identity - struck her like lightning, and she shuddered, her body briefly betraying her calm facade. Before she could summon her thoughts, he continued, his voice low, measured: "I've been looking for you. And now... I have news that will change everything." Her hand clenched around the knife's hilt, though she didn't draw it. "There's nothing you could possibly say that would make me want to hear it." He tilted his head slightly, his smile fading. "Perhaps not. But I think you'll find... you want to know what I have to say."

For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was the soft trickle of the stream, the rustling of leaves in the wind. Kaitlyn's mind raced, but she couldn't help the nagging feeling that she was cornered. This man had found her once, and now he had found her again. His persistence felt like a shadow she couldn't outrun. "Who are you?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice calm, but there was an edge to it now. She wasn't going to let him toy with her. He took a step closer, though not enough to make her feel threatened. His gaze softened, his voice quiet, but deliberate. "I didn't want to be the one to tell you," he said, his words slow, as if weighing each one. "but your sister... Elyssa is dead."

Her blood ran cold. The mention of her sister's name sent a jolt of panic through her chest. It took Kaitlyn a while to realize, what the man actually just told her. Kaitlyns thoughts scattered, as she started to grasp the message. Was it an accident? Or something worse? How?

Then, his voice again, low and unsettling. "But there's more. I know why you left. I know what happened... with Elyssa." Her heart skipped yet another beat. How could he possibly know about that? She hadn't spoken to anyone about it - no one except for Elyssa, and even then, their words had been carefully chosen, hidden beneath the surface of lies.

"I don't know what you think you know," she said, her voice steady despite the sudden wave of fear, "but I don't want any part of it." He didn't flinch. "I'm not here to make you do anything, Kaitlyn. I just want you to understand that there are people who are still interested in you. In what you know. And if you want to live in peace, you'll need to make some decisions." The words hung in the air, heavy and unsettling. Kaitlyn took a step back, her eyes never leaving him. "You've made a mistake," she said, her voice hardening. "I don't owe anyone anything. I'm no longer part of that world."

He studied her for a long moment before giving a slight, almost imperceptible nod. "Perhaps not. But I believe you will be when the time comes. Just remember, the past has a way of catching up with us all." He paused to let his words sink in. "I'll be around town for a few days, if you want to talk." With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance as quietly as he had appeared.

Kaitlyn stood there for a long while, her heart pounding in her chest. Her surroundings felt eerily silent now, the sound of the stream almost deafening in the stillness. But as she looked down at the creek, distant whispers of her memories began to stir.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into the palms of her hands as her mind wandered back to a time long before it all happened. Her sister's face appeared in her mind's eye, her laughter ringing out in the quiet spaces of her thoughts. Kaitlyn closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling the earthy scent of the trees, the rush of the stream still echoing in the background. She felt reminded of the little fountain in their garden. She could almost hear her sister's voice again - light and playful, before the weight of duty and ambition had changed her.

Kaitlyn has always been the more mischievous one, the one who preferred to chase birds through the fields or climb the highest trees rather than sit still at the dinner table, or follow the endless rules, while her elder sister often adhered to the boundaries set by their family. Even as children, Kaitlyn had a knack of breaking away, her curiosity pulling her toward the unknown. But it wasn't just her own sense of freedom that made her so different; it was her sister's quiet willingness to follow, despite her own desires.

On that warm summer day, the sisters were supposed to practice their fencing skills, but neither of them liked this type of stiff, formal dance of it. So they had abandoned their equipment on the lawn and played hide-and-seek instead. Suddenly they heard their father shout at them from the balcony, "And here I thought I raised two ladies, not mischief makers. Do you want to try again tomorrow?" The sisters froze and exchanged a glance. Then Kaitlyn burst into laughter, and without another word, they both dashed off in opposite directions.

One late afternoon, when they were a little older, Elyssa had insisted on showing Kaitlyn how to walk gracefully, hands clasped just so, like a lady - just like their mother had taught her. Kaitlyn had rolled her eyes but complied, trying to take the lesson seriously. Elyssa, with her hands raised like she was conducting an orchestra, had said, "Now, Kaitlyn, hold your chin high, your back straight, and step lightly, as though you are walking on a cloud." Kaitlyn had tried - she really did - but halfway through the lesson, she misjudged her step, her heel caught on the uneven grass, and she stumbled. She lurched forward and somehow ended up spinning, her arms flailing to keep balance. Elyssa gasped in horror, but before she could offer a hand, Kaitlyn fell into a perfect, unintentional somersault, landing with a soft thud in the grass, her legs tangled. For a moment, the garden was silent. Elyssa stood there, staring in disbelief. Then, to Kaitlyn's surprise, her sister burst out laughing. Kaitlyn, lying there, grinning like a mischievous little imp, couldn't help but join in. She threw her hands in the air dramatically, rolling her eyes, and declared, "Well, that was graceful, wasn't it?" Elyssa wiped away a tear, still laughing. "You'll never make a proper lady if you keep doing that."

The memory of Elyssa's laughter echoed in Kaitlyn's mind, and she couldn't help but laugh aloud, her voice breaking the silence of the forest. The echo of her own sound seemed to mock her, drawing her back to the present. The weight of everything - of her sister's absence, the years lost, the pain still strong - suddenly hit her like a wave, and tears welled in her eyes. Kaitlyn doubled over, her sobs shaking her frame. She had no control over them; they came like a storm, fierce and unrelenting. After what felt like an eternity, she wiped her face, trying to steady her breath. She grabbed her bow and quiver, pushing herself to move as her body trembled with the aftershock of grief. Slowly, she made her way back to camp.

When she arrived, the fire's embers had almost died, but still faintly glowed with the potential to burn again. Kaitlyn knelt down, poking at the coals with a stick, and began stacking the firewood she'd prepared earlier. Her movements were slow, barely conscious, as though the simple task would somehow anchor her to the present. She stared at the fire, the flames flickering, casting light on her tear-streaked face. The warmth from the fire did little to ease the coldness in her chest, but she remained there, eyes fixed on the dancing flames. Eventually, exhaustion settled in, and without any further thought, Kaitlyn let herself fall asleep beside the fire, her grief lulling her into an uneasy rest.

Kaitlyn woke up early, she felt weak and confused, her clothes damp from sleeping outside. As she was about to start her daily morning routine, she remembered what she had heard the day before.

"I know why you left. I know what happened... with Elyssa."

She couldn't shake the feeling that someone knew about Elyssa's affair - something she thought was buried deep. Kaitlyn almost exposed her sister three years ago, during one of their heated confrontations. Elyssa had been desperate, frantic even, to keep her secret buried. She had convinced Kaitlyn that exposing her affair would destroy everything - their family's reputation, their future - and with a mix of guilt and loyalty, Kaitlyn had kept quiet. But that wasn't enough. Elyssa made sure Kaitlyn would never speak out. An arranged incident and a vile threat that had Kaitlyn entirely surprised. Elyssa had pulled every string, turning family and friends against her, until Kaitlyn was forced to leave, cut off from everyone she loved and the life she had once known.

"If you want to live in peace, you'll need to make some decisions."

Kaitlyn's thoughts started to race. What on earth could she even decide now? She eventually made up her mind, she had to go and meet the stranger. He hadn't even told her, who he was, not even his name. Lost in thoughts, she tensioned the string of her bow, as if she were to go hunting. She plucked the string, as she always did, but then realized, that she wasn't going to use her bow today. She swung her bow over her shoulder anyways, grabbed her bag and headed towards the town.

Kaitlyn walked the narrow woodland path, her fingers absently brushing over the bow slung across her back. The cool morning air carried the scent of damp leaves, but she barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere - tangled in half-forgotten memories, in unanswered questions. The stranger's words gnawed at her. She had spent years pushing the past away, burying it beneath the weight of survival and solitude. And yet, he had made it sound as if she had left something undone. As if she still held a piece of the puzzle.

Her grip tightened on the bowstring, her fingers rolling over the familiar tension. She often did this when deep in thought, running the rough string over her fingertips until the pressure bit into her skin. A sharp snap broke the silence, and she cursed under her breath. She exhaled through gritted teeth and shook her head in frustration. It wasn't the first time she ruined a good string in this manner. As she continued on her path, the unease lingered. By the time she reached the village, she had convinced herself that she was only going to hear him out. Nothing more.

The village tavern was quiet at this hour, save for a few scattered patrons nursing morning ales. Kaitlyn spotted the stranger immediately. He sat in the farthest corner, posture relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world. But his eyes - sharp and assessing - told a different story. She approached without ceremony and dropped into the seat opposite him. "I don't like being led around," she said bluntly. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Then it's a good thing you came here by choice." She scoffed. "Choice is a stretch."

The stranger studied her for a moment, then leaned forward. "Tell me, Kaitlyn - how much do you really know about what happened before you left?" The question sent a chill through her, though she kept her expression neutral. The pain of her sister's betrayal came rushing back in full, the memories of being cast aside, the shaming looks of everyone Kaitlyn cared about. All just for daring to confront the truth. She looked at him, trying to decipher his face. His probing eyes only deepened her distrust. What's his game? The thought lingered as her mind raced. Finally she replied: "We parted ways a long time ago," She briefly considered what to say, then continued: "And I know that whatever she was involved in, I wanted no part of it." He tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words. "And yet, you were closer to her than most. You knew things no one else did." Kaitlyn narrowed her eyes. "You keep saying that. What exactly do you think I know?"

The stranger exhaled, resting his forearms on the table. "Elyssa was being blackmailed, Kaitlyn. I don't know by whom, but I know it was someone powerful, and that's why she turned on you." Kaitlyn's stomach twisted. She had suspected Elyssa's actions had been driven by ambition alone. The thought that her sister might have been forced made her uneasy. "And?" she prompted. His voice dropped lower. "You confronted her about something, didn't you?" Kaitlyn's jaw tightened. "That's none of your concern." "It is if it got her killed." Kaitlyn's breath hitched, the words cutting through the haze of uncertainty like ice. "She was murdered," he continued, his voice cold, "because someone wanted to make sure whatever secret she had, died with her."

For a moment, the tavern seemed to tilt and Kaitlyn's vision blurred. She clenched her fists beneath the table, forcing herself to stay steady, but the feeling of dread was unrelenting. "I don't believe you," she said, though her voice trembled slightly, betraying the cracks in her conviction. The stranger's gaze didn't flinch, he was unyielding. "You do," he said quietly. Kaitlyn swallowed hard, the memory of that dreadful night with Elyssa rushing back. The argument. The look in her sister's eyes - afraid, desperate, and now that she thought about it, scared. That was the moment, when everything started to fall apart. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Even if I did know something, why does it matter now? She's gone." The stranger's expression darkened. "It's not just about your sister. The people behind this - they're not finished. Elyssa was silenced for a reason. If we don't figure out why, others will die. You might die." Kaitlyn instinctively reached for the knife at her belt, her fingers brushing the hilt as cold dread settled in her gut. She leaned forward slightly, trying to mask the sudden anxiety creeping up on her. He leaned in too, his voice lower even further. "You know what a coup looks like, don't you?" Kaitlyn stiffened. "The balance of power is shifting, Kaitlyn." he continued, his voice carrying the weight of warning. "If we don't uncover what she knew, whoever orchestrated this will strike again."

Silence stretched between them. He continued: "I want you to come back with me. Help me expose the murderers of your sister." Kaitlyn stared at him, her pulse hammering in her ears. For years, she had stayed away. She had convinced herself, it was better this way, that she'd never return. "You haven't even told me your name yet. And what makes you think I still care?" The stranger's expression softened, though there was still a hardness to his gaze. "I think you do care. More than you're willing to admit. And that's why you need to come with me." Kaitlyn looked away, her fingers curling into fists. "And if I say no?" His eyes darkened, a brief flash of something almost like pity crossing his features. "Then you risk everything - your life, your safety - and you risk losing the one thing that might bring you peace: closure. You've been running long enough, Kaitlyn."

"You don't know what you're asking. I can't just walk back in there, not after everything." His eyes softened, though they still held that cold, calculating edge. "I know it's hard. But you don't have a choice. They're closing in. And if they know you're the key to whatever she knew... then you'll be next." Kaitlyn's heart skipped a beat. The stranger's gaze never wavered. "You still have allies. You're a piece of this puzzle, Kaitlyn, whether you want to be or not. I'm not asking you to seek redemption. I'm asking you to do what's necessary. For your sister. For yourself. And for your country." Her mind raced, memories of the family estate flashing before her eyes. The lies. The broken trust. The stranger's words lingered in the air long after he fell silent, pressing against the walls of the room. For a long moment, Kaitlyn didn't speak. She could hear the sound of her own heartbeat, almost too loud in the silence that had stretched between them.

Something twisted inside her, something not quite dread, but an unsettling pull - a magnetic force drawing her toward a past she had buried. Without another word, she stood. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as though every step carried the weight of a decision she wasn't yet ready to make. The stranger didn't move, but the quiet tension in the room thickened, the space between them charged with anticipation. As she reached the door, her hand rested briefly on the doorframe, and in the stillness, the stranger's shadow seemed to stretch further into the room. She hesitated - just long enough for the thought to flicker: Maybe this is the only way forward. Then, she glanced at the stranger. With a breath that might have been a sigh or a silent resignation, she opened the door and stepped outside.

He followed.

The scent of autumn lingered on the breeze as Kaitlyn's horse trotted along the familiar path leading toward the gates, the sound of the horses' hooves drumming against the cobblestones, reverberating through the quiet of the forest surrounding the Westerland estate as Kaitlyn drew near. Her heart beat faster, in part from the ride, in part from the anxious thoughts racing in her mind. She had thought about this moment a thousand times, but nothing could have prepared her for how it felt to be back, as she approached.

The estate was much as she remembered it - grand stone walls, vast courtyards, and the fountain surrounded by neatly cut grass. Although the large structures surrounding her, built to impress, gave her a sense of home, Kaitlyn couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't belong here. The estate was in chaos - a frenetic bustle of servants buzzing around, unloading a variety of goods from a carriage and moving them into the building that housed the large kitchen. Chests which presumably contained a rich variety of food items were hauled inside, a barrel of wine and several rolls of fine cloth in the distinct shade of blue that had represented her family ever since she could remember waiting to be picked up. Kaitlyn wasn't aware of any gathering, and certainly didn't expect a welcome ceremony for her, as nobody was informed of her desicion to return.

The iconic coat of arms - her family's emblem - which usually dominated the front facade of the main building, was being taken down presumably for maintenance, carefully, but with the practiced indifference of servants who handled it like a piece of furniture, a symbol that had lost its luster. The insignia, long a marker of her family's power and prestige, was being treated with a level of disrespect that made her chest tighten. The worker tugged at the banner, unaware that it was not only the emblem of House Westerland but a reminder of everything Kaitlyn had come to despise; the endless lies that come with the politics, the false smiles and affections, the rituals and empty words. And last but not least, a symbol of her exile, her fall from grace. "Careful, you fool!" she heard a voice bark from the side. Another servant scrambled to catch the banner as it started to slip. Kaitlyn's stomach churned. This was it. This was the Westerlands now, their proud legacy crumbling beneath the weight of politics and power struggles. The coat of arms, which should have stood proudly as a reminder of her lineage, now dangled limply in the hands of an indifferent servant.

No one had noticed her arrival yet. She climbed the stairs leading to the main entrance, which was designed to be both imposing and elegant, a testament to the house's power and history. The double doors, crafted from aged oak, were reinforced with dark iron bands crisscrossing the heavy wood like the ribs of an ancient beast. Time had left its mark on the iron - subtle patina where hands had touched it for generations, faint scratches and dents whispering of the past. At the heart of each door, intricate carvings adorned the surface, the sigil of House Westerland taking center stage: a proud, rearing stag intertwined with curling oak leaves, signifying strength and resilience. The grooves were deep, their edges darkened with age, making the imagery seem almost alive in the slowly dimming light of late afternoon. The air carried a faint scent of varnished wood and cold metal, as the old iron caught the last slanting rays of sunlight. This door has stood for generations, but now, as Kaitlyn ascended the final steps, it felt less like a guardian of her home and more like a threshold into something unknown.

As Kaitlyn entered the grand hall, a sharp voice broke her reverie. "What are you doing here?" Kaitlyn turned, startled. The question had come from a man in his late thirties, sharply dressed in the attire of a distant relative, someone she barely recognized. His eyes, however, were unmistakably cold. He seemed more annoyed than surprised, his arms crossed as he watched her like a hawk. She straightened, biting back the first response that came to mind. No point to let him see her falter. She was trying to swallow the sudden lump in her throat, and as she parted her lips to speak, she heard a familiar voice. "Attend!" the old man exclaimed, compelling the servants in the entrance hall to supspend their activities. Clearing his throat subtly, he guestured for them to take their places. "This is the lady of the house, Kaitlyn of Westerland" he announced, his voice firm. Many of them had never seen her before. As the staff scrambled to form an orderly line, the relative, standing in her way, arms still crossed, scoffed. With a final, disdainful glance, he turned his back on her and strode into the salon, where laughter and conversation hummed as if she had never returned at all.