Role

Chapter 7

Nothing is more common than the power of a first. The first time walking,
riding a horse, falling in love, completing some task perfectly without need
for correction or restart. But none of it is the same as the first time taking
a life. For Wrukesth, it was in some ways most shocking because she did not
feel very strongly. Finishing the necromancer and watching his last breath
felt more like accomplishing a task. Certainly some satisfaction, and some
pride, but not the great disgust or shame, or, conversely, the great joy or
happiness at accomplishing her goal. She of course had killed and eaten animals,
and other non-sentient beings, but this was the first of its kind. Her biggest
sense was more that it was the first in healing, not destroying. Magic, and
promulgate it, do such damage and harm, and this was her first step toward
healing Thera. Pruning is not killing, it is protecting and tending.
Especially a necromancer, which was not lost on her.

Even so, she did feel profoundly changed. She crossed a line she could never
return from. When next she saw him, the Old Man was perfectly happy; he had
been a knight after all. But still, old as he is, he remembered the first time and
knew she was not the Wrukesht he knew just the day before. Together they
spent the day, their bond strengthened by this now-shared experience of killing.

The second and third and fourth were little different. Perhaps more satisfaction
and gladness, as she became more used to it, seeing the fruits and benefits of what
is sad but necessary, and being there to help, herself, when others do not.
She is assured now, that she has made the right decision. She will never truly derive
joy from what is now her life's work, or at least does not expect to, but she
is clear eyed and knows the only way to heal Thera is to kill a part of it. She will
do it, come what may.