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“Rei! Rei!”
“. . . Lugh? What is it this time?!”
“Rei! By your expression then, anyone would have thought you didn’t want to talk to me! I’m your brother, so I know better, but anybody else might be put off entirely.”
“Lugh, did it ever occur to you that I DON’T like talking to people?”
“Don’t be silly, Rei. Anyway, you know that new person who joined our group? Sophia?”
“What about her?”
“She uses Dark magic too! You should talk to her. I bet you’ll become great friends!”
“Lugh. Get this into your head. I. DON’T. WANT--”
Rei never got to finish his sentence, because at that point, Lugh spotted Sophia himself. “Ohh look, there she is! COOEE! SOPHIA!”
Sophia looked up at the two twins. Her long, purple hair blew in the faint breeze.
“. . .Hello . . . Lugh?” She said, quietly.
“Yup, that’s me! And this is Rei. He’s my twin,”
Sophia turned her eyes and solemn expression to Lugh’s brother. “Hello.”
“N-Nice to meet you. You, uh, I heard that you . . . you use Dark magic too?” Rei mumbled.
Sophia smiled, very, very, slightly. “Yes, I do. So you’re the young shaman I’ve heard so much about?”
“O-Only good, I hope!”
“Well, I guess that depends on your version of good,” Her smile widened. “But I think it’s good,”
“Thank you,”
“You’re quite welcome. Sorry, but I’ve got something to do,” She turned to leave.
“Wait!” Rei called. Sohpia turned to look at him once more, “Could I come and . . . talk to you sometime?”
Sophia nodded, “I’d like that very much,”

Once Sophia was out of earshot, Lugh burst into fits of giggles. Rei looked annoyed.
“What’s so funny?!?!”
“Rei, you like her, don’t you?” Lugh said, smiling broadly.
“Not like that! Don’t be stupid, Lugh,”
“Ah, dear brother mine,” Lugh almost sang, “You lost your heart to one so fair--”
Rei punched Lugh on the shoulder. “Shut up. I don’t.”
Lugh just grinned. “Rei. I know you well enough to know that everything you say is a lie,”

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Rain. The rain pounded mercilessly on the walls of the little shack, like a band of drummers horribly out of step and out of time with each other. Drops found their way in through little crevices in the wood and stone and mortar, hissing in the fireplace and occasionally striking the face of the man that sat before the fire. A grim man, a man who looked as though he was struggling with right and wrong.

“Will you at least talk to me?” The woman slid next to him, massaging the man’s shoulders with her small but strong hands. He didn’t have to turn around to see her face, and her gentle green eyes that had been pleading with him all night. No, if he could get her face out of his mind, and replace it with something else, something ugly and twisted, then he might be able to go ahead and do it. But her face was still there, still pretty and cheerful, though lined with worry at this moment. He grunted and shrugged her hands away.

“Quit talking, will you?” He snapped. “I cannot talk to you, and I have no wish to talk to you, so shut up.”

“You never act like this,” She said, stroking his face now. Her touch felt good, reassuring, in a way, but did not respond to it. The woman ceased her actions, sighing heavily. He watched as she rubbed an area on her shoulder, an area where the man knew that she had been injured; the injury had never fully healed.

“Please, say something nice to me!” The woman shouted. The man stood and turned away, staring at the door with dead eyes. “What’s the matter with you?!” Her pleading shouts continued to wheedle into his brain, torturing him. He exhaled, almost painfully. “Don’t make me lie you, Aisha.”

“We’re assassins, everything we say is a lie!” Aisha’s arms went around the man’s waist. “Legault, please tell me something! Anything!”

Legault grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as if it was all merely a nightmare that he could wake up from, wake up and be back in the old Fang, a Fang where they never ordered you to do this.

“Your injury…” He managed to choke out, and removed a knife from his belt. Aisha’s arms left his waist, and he heard her take a couple of steps backward. As Legault faced her, he said, “I can give you poison. You wouldn’t feel a thing, Aisha. It would be like going to sleep. Please, let me—”

“No,” She replied, gazing at the floor with a numb look in her eyes. “I want to die by a knife. Like an assassin should.” Aisha looked up, and stared at Legault defiantly. “I want to see it coming. Do not stab me in the back.”

Legault shuddered, trying to stop the trembling that had settled in his limbs. “Alright,” He said quietly, positioning the knife in his hand. “I’m so sorry, Aisha…”