28.

  Spook

  Four days on horseback. Four days since we left the charred skeleton of Thalor’s and Gwen’s home behind. Silence clung to us like the mud that clung to our cloaks. The land itself seemed to mourn. The devastation of the lands around us had took our voices. Each step the rain soaked us more and more to the bone, the wind carrying the whispers of a world undone.

  Once, these hills and meadows had been a sea of green, gilded with wildflowers. Farmers would wave as we passed, the air rich with the scent of turned soil and bread baking in the ovens. Now… the same fields lay black and brittle, the bones of cottages jutting like broken teeth from the earth. Forests stood hollow, their trees stripped of leaves as if the very breath of the realm had been stolen away. It was as though the Underworld had clawed its way upward and made its nest among us.

  Twice we were forced from the main road, skirting around packs of twisted monsters that should not walk this plane. Twisted and dark. At night, we took refuge in the remains of stranger’s homes. A child’s toy here, a shattered tea cup there. Relics of lives that would never be lived the same again. The nights were the worst of all. The earth trembled with the restless dead: pale spirits wandering the roads, skeletal mages trailing flickers of blue fire, the distant cackle of a hag echoing across the hills. Sometimes, dark wings swept over the horizon. Serpent-like creatures that screeched as they rained acid or fire upon the already scorched ground. Ash called them Drakes. Kin of the dragons, but far crueller.

  “I’ll never again believe those heroic tales,” I muttered, clutching my soaked cloak tighter around me. “The songs the minstrels create make them sound so grand. Slaying beasts, saving worlds. But the truth of it?” I shook my head. “It sucks.”

  Faelwen let out a breath that was half a snort, half a laugh. “I said the exact same thing once,” she murmured. “When I returned home to nothing but ashes. I wished it had been one of those stories. The kind with a happy ending where everyone survives.” Her gaze darkened. “But we already lost one of us.”

  Her words cut through the rain. Elora’s face flickered in my mind, her bright eyes and messy bun. The laugh on her face she would secretly hide when I got into trouble. I wondered if she’d made it out. If the elves of Sylvaeris had found her, pulled her from those tunnels and carried her to safety. Or if she’d become another ghost in this graveyard the Mid Realm was slowly turning into.

  “I’m sorry,” Faelwen said softly. Her eyes glistening in the dim light. “I shouldn’t have brought her up.”

  “It’s alright.” My voice was brittle. “It will fade one day, I hope.”

  She gave a sad smile. “Artemis once told me grief is a never ending cycle, but its edges dull with time. I like to think that the grief I carry is a reminder of the love I felt for that person. I try not think of the what-ifs, you know. They wouldn’t have wanted that.”

  Something inside me broke quietly. “Yeah,” I breathed, blinking away the sting in my eyes.

  Elora’s voice echoed in the back of my mind. Words she’d whispered to me many times. Don’t waste away in the shadows of what-ifs. Look after yourself.

  I turned toward Faelwen again. Even now, through all the ruin and silence, something in me still burned for her. Faint, but steady. I knew I had to let her go. I’d said it many times before to myself. She had her own path with Ash, her own grief. And I… I had nothing. No home. No family. No one waiting.

  Would I return to the life I had before? The shadows, the blades the whispered orders from the Basilisk? Was that all I was meant to be? A rogue in the dark?

  While those thoughts clouded my mind a movement caught my eye. A grey spot against the storm. It shifted unnaturally, pushing against the wind, fast and deliberate. Not a cloud. My pulse lurched.

  “DRAKE!” I shouted, just as the air split with its roar and our horses reared beneath us.

  Artemis howled first, a sound that cut through the storm like a blade. Then we were moving, hooves striking mud, wind clawing at our cloaks as we fled the death from the sky. The drake’s shadows swept across us, its roar rattling the marrow in my bones. We veered off the main road, tearing left towards the lake whose dark surface shimmered beneath the broken light. The water reflected the storm, a mirror of chaos, and for a heartbeat, I saw our small band mirrored there: fragile, desperate, alive only by sheer luck.

  The drake caught us too soon. Its cry split the heavens, a sound that I felt rather than heard. Deep enough to shake the air itself. My horse stumbled under me as terror clawed its way up my throat. I swallowed my scream of terror. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. The mantra pounded against my skull as I dug my heels into the horse’s side, urging it to go faster.

  Then Faelwen’s voice rose behind me, soft, melodic and commanding. Her arms spread, her core steady and strong as the wind tried to unseat her. Elvish words spilled from her lips. Light flared and a dome of silver shimmer enveloped us just as the drake loosed a stream of acid that hissed like a thousand snakes striking at once. The shield quivered, its surface boiling where the acid struck, but it held.

  Ash fell back beside her, his cloak whipping in the rain. He pressed a hand to her shoulder and shadows curled from his fingertips, magic like ink spreading through water. The spell that flowed between them was necrotic yet alive, strengthening her shield with his darkness. I’d seen if before in the scorching dunes of Zan’kareth, a forbidden tether of power in my opinion, life feeding on death. I had feared it then. But now, I was grateful.

  The drake descended, claws slicing the air. Artemis barely leapt aside in time, his snarl swallowed by the storm. The creature’s talons struck the barrier with a thundering tearing sound. Faelwen screamed, blood spilling from her ear, her skin drained of colour, but she managed to stay upright on her horse.

  The shield shattered. The world went white for a millisecond before it turned back to its gloomy surrounding. Faelwen swayed, pale as bone. I shouted her name, but before I could reach her, the drake wheeled around and dove again. This time aiming at me. My horse screamed a noise I never heard before, rearing as I yanked the reins hard to the right. The drake’s claws scraped empty earth where I’d been a heartbeat before. My pulse thundered. That was close. Too close for my liking. A strange dizziness swept through me, as if the creature’s cry had torn through more than just air.

  The edges of a forest loomed before us.

  “Into the trees!” Ash bellowed. We galloped toward the edge, safety nearly there. The drake swooped down again, aiming for Ash. He ventured to the left, the hooves of his horse splashing in the water. Again the drake scooped up a heap of dirt. Frustrated it roared and flew back up again. It’s acid scorched the ground behind him, steam rising in choking clouds as Ash shot past us into the forest. The air stank of poison and burning earth.

  At last, we reached the shelter of the forest. Behind us, the drake’s fury struck. Acid sizzling against bark, the trees groaning but holding. It couldn’t follow us through the thick canopy.

  Ash leapt from his horse, falling to one knee. His hand pressed to the ground, lips moving soundlessly. The smell of rot filled the air. Dark red mist curled around him. Then… the earth split open.

  Hands, claws, hooves, the dead clawed their way from the dirt. Human faces without eyes. Wolves of bone. A bear’s skull draped in moss. They rose in a tide of decay, surrounding Ash like worshippers around their dark priest. The drake landed before the treeline, tail lashing, its wings folding as it met the undead tide. It struck, biting, tearing and spewing acid, but Ash’s magic did not relent. His eyes had gone black, his veins etched with red. Every breath he took seemed to draw the life out of the world around him. Plants withered and trees groaned in protest. The dead swarmed the drake. They climbed its wings, dug into its scales, wrapped around its throat. The monster roared, acid dripping uselessly down the corpses that clung to it.

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  “Come on, Ash,” Faelwen cried. “It’s trapped! That’s enough!”

  “Not yet…” his voice was wrong, layered and inhuman.

  “Ash!” she screamed again, stumbling toward him. “You’re burning up!”

  Artemis rushed forward, seizing his sleeve in his teeth, yanking hard. In the meantime I quickly grabbed the scared horses. Ash’s concentration broke, a burst of energy cracked through the air and the undead collapsed, lifeless once more. The drake tore itself free of the corpses with a guttural cry and hurled itself skyward, vanishing into the storm. Ash swayed, breathing hard. His pale face was streaked with mud. Faelwen looked no better.

  “I didn’t expect that thing to drain so much at once,” she murmured, wiping at her mouth. Ash managed a grim smile as he helped her onto the back of the horse.

  “And yet you held the shield. A drake’s breath and mind both. That’s no small feat, darling. They twist your thoughts as they strike, feeding on fear to fuel their power.”

  Right before Ash climbed on his own horse he turned to Faelwen. “Thank you,” he whispered and she smiled back at him. I scanned the darkening forest.

  “We should rest. Night’s already upon us. You both need it.”

  Ash gave a humourless laugh. “Rest,” he echoed, mounting his horse again. “If such a thing still exists.”

  Then quieter, almost to himself: “I know a place we can hide. If it still stands.”

  “Your home?” I asked carefully. He didn’t answer at first. Just stared out toward the deepening dark. Then he gave a single, silent nod.

  It wasn’t long before the forest began to thin, giving way to rolling hills and dark storm clouds. At their edge, half-swallowed by mist, stood a small house. It overlooked the valley and the ruins of a distant village. Ash spurred his horse ahead, dismounted before it had even stopped and ran inside. I felt his fear before I saw it, that suffocating mix of hope and dread that tightens the ribs until breathing hurts. I knew it well. I’d once stood in those same shoes. Chasing ghosts through the storm, praying to all the gods they were still alive.

  Faelwen handed me the reins of her horse and his.

  “Could you…”

  “I’ve got them,” I said before she could finish. She nodded once and followed Ash inside, her cloak trailing through the mud. Artemis tilted his furry head toward me, eyes searching.

  “You think they made it out alive, Artie?” I asked softly. His brow furrowed, or at least, it looked that way. I tried to smother the half-smile tugging at my lips. “What? You don’t like the nickname?”

  He gave me a sharp huff and turned away. “Alright, alright,” I murmured, chuckling under my breath.

  Looking around, the house seemed intact for the most part. Even the stables were still standing. The air here was heavy with silence. The kind that settled over places long forgotten. The fields, once green, had turned to a wasteland of mud and withered stems. Black veins of rot climbed the stone walls of the house. One window was shattered and the door hung open like a mouth mid-scream. I led the horses to the stables, undid their bridles and hang them over the rails. Inside the barn, I found a small heap of hay, dry enough to serve. The smell was faintly comforting. Reminding me of normal days. I let the beasts feed, then turned toward the house. Rain began again as I crossed the threshold.

  The smell hit me first, copper, rot and dust. My boots cracked glass as I stepped inside. My eyes scanned a room where clearly there had been a fight. Chairs were overturned, the table split down the middle. Dried blood stained the walls in long, desperate strokes. The room was silent, save for one sound. The quiet, broken sobs of a man who had never allowed himself to weep.

  Ash knelt on the floor besides a body. His head was buried in the crook of Faelwen’s neck, his shoulders trembling. I stopped. I’d never seen him like that. Not Ash, the shadow-born man whose silence cut deeper than any blade. The one who carried death as easily as breath.

  Now he was unravelling in her arms. I knelt beside them. the body on the floor was an older man, his face hollow, skin pale as wax, hair streaked with grey. He looked like Ash, only gentler, time-worn. Death had claimed him days ago.

  Without a word, I reached out and rested my hand on Ash’s back. The tremors that passed beneath my palm spoke more than any words could. I don’t know how long we stayed like this. Seconds, minutes until his breathing steadied. He drew away at last, dragging a sleeve across his face, pulling his hood up to hide what was left of his grief.

  “Let’s give him a proper burial,” Faelwen whispered. Ash only nodded.

  Together, we carried his fathers body into the rain. The ground was soft, the shovel old and dull. Mud clung to our hands, our boots and our hearts. When at last the grave was deep enough, we laid him down. No rites, no words, just silence and the storm to bear witness.

  The clouds wept as we stood there, drenching us with its tears. Ash’s voice, when it came, was thin and raw. “We didn’t have the best relationship,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d cry for him. But… I think it’s the weight of it. Knowing I’m alone now. A child without parents.”

  He hesitated. “And not knowing if Zuzu…”

  “Zuzu?” Faelwen asked softly. “Your brother?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Azurian.”

  My heart twisted at the name. “Not knowing if he made it out must be unbearable. That helplessness, it eats at you. Nothing you can do now but pray and hope he made it to Westray safely.”

  Ash’s eyes stayed fixed on the grave. “Yes,” he whispered. “Hope.”

  The rain thickened, hiding his tears. The wind carried the scent of wet earth and echoes of the end. We lingered by the grave a little longer, none of us willing to break the silence that hung like the heavy rain between us. When at last the rain drove us back inside, I built a fire in the heart, a small, flickering thing that painted the walls in shades of gold and shadow. The warmth felt foreign after the cold of the road. Faelwen curled up beside the fire, her knees drawn to her chest. “My stomach hurts,” she murmured. “Do we still have herbs?”

  “Yes,” I said, rising. “I’ll fetch some water.”

  Outside, the rain had softened to a drizzle. The old well creaked as I turned the rope, but the bucket came up half-full. It would do. When I returned I made her some herbal tea. The scent of mint and valerian curling through the air. Ash came down the narrow stairs with a bundle of worn blankets, draping one over her shoulders and another across mine. We ate in silence, chewing cold bread and dried fruit by firelight. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, not entirely, more the kind that came from exhaustion and unspoken weight. Since returning to the Mid Realm, there had been too many moments like this. Too many thoughts we dared not to voice. The weight and responsibility pressing on our shoulders. I needed a distraction. Something, anything to keep my mind from wandering where the heart bled.

  “When was the last time you were here, Ash?” I asked trying to start a conversation. He lifted his cup, the hood still shadowing his face. “Fifteen years,” he said at last. “I was seventeen when I told my brother I’d come back for him. He was fourteen. Zuzu.” His eyes reflected the flames, distant and hollow. “When I did return, Maeve my younger sister and our mother were already gone. I left again after that. I should’ve stayed… or taken him with me. Maybe then…”

  He stopped. The words fell away into the fire. Faelwen leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “I get it,” I said quietly. “You know what Elora would’ve told you? Don’t waste away in the shadows of what-ifs. You couldn’t have known, Ash. None of us could. All you can do now is finish what you started and look for your brother. We’ll help.”

  A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “Thanks, buds. You’re not so bad after all.”

  I chuckled. “Neither are you.”

  “Glad you two decided to bury the hatchet,” Faelwen teased. Ash smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “We already did that back in Zan’kareth, darling. But yes… I’m glad too.”

  She hissed suddenly, clutching her abdomen. Ash’s hand went instinctively to her lower back, massaging in small, careful circles.

  “Are you alright?” I asked.

  “It’ll pass,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Just cramps. Although it feels like my insides are burning. Maybe the first period after a miscarriage just feels different.”

  Silence again. The fire crackled softly, its glow trembling against her pale skin. Then Faelwen laughed, quiet and unexpected. “I can almost hear Elora now. ‘Pain is just a trick of your mind,’ she’d say. ‘So stop whining and go on with your life.’”

  That drew a laugh from me. “Yeah, that sounds like her. Tough as a dragon hide, that one. Never knew what to do with emotions.”

  Faelwen snorted. “I know! She’d just stare at us utterly confused when we got upset, like she was surrounded by lunatics.”

  “Or children,” Ash added, chuckling. “Elves are like us in the beginning, but after a few centuries, they detach themselves from their emotions and become very rational. Elora had been walking this realm for at least a century. She’d already learned to silence her heart.”

  I leaned back, remembering the way she’d roll her eyes when we argued. The sighs, the muttered ‘mortals’ under her breath.

  “What a relief that must be,” I sighed. “To just… stop feeling for a while.”

  Artemis snorted from the corner. Faelwen grinned. “Artemis says you’ll always be our little emotional puppy.”

  “Hey!” I protested. “If I’m a puppy, what does that make you? A newborn? I’m older than you, and I’m not that emotional! Have you seen yourselves? And for the record, only Elora is allowed to call me that.”

  Faelwen raised her hands in a pantomime of innocence. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Artemis says and I quote. ‘Emotions are part of being human. Enjoy them while they last.’”

  I frowned. “He could just say that to me himself.”

  “He says if he tried speaking into your mind, you’d get paranoid.”

  “I would not!” I huffed, crossing my arms.

  Wouldn’t you? The voice slid through my thoughts like smoke. My eyes widened.

  “Who said that?!”

  “There, see?” Faelwen said, giggling. “Paranoid.”

  I scowled, muttering, “I knew it was Artemis,” but couldn’t hold back the grin that followed.

  Their laughter filled the room. Soft and genuine, a melody against the crackle of the fire and the silence from before. The air felt lighter somehow. The shadows retreating to the corners. For the first time in weeks, warmth wasn’t just from the flames. That night, the silence left us. We shared stories of Elora, her sharp tongue, her impossible bravery, her quiet acts of kindness she’d never admit to. We let the laughter and the memories wrap around us like a spell. For a while, the weight of the war faded to nothing. The runestones, the battles ahead, the fate of the Mid Realm… all of it slipped away.

  Tonight, we weren’t the companions responsible for the survival of the entire Mid Realm. Tonight, we were simply four friends around a fire bringing up memories, sharing stories and enjoying each other’s company.