Chapter 10
621 Words
The slave should have been forgotten.
Instead, she lingered in his thoughts.
Commander Vaelith stood before the war table while rain battered the castle windows.
Maps covered every inch of the oak surface.
Mountains.
Forests.
Rivers.
Supply routes.
The future battlefield of a war that had not yet begun.
King Lodrick stood opposite him.
A goblet of wine in one hand.
Impatience in the other.
"The northern tribes are weak."
"They want you to believe that."
The king rolled his eyes.
"You think every enemy is setting a trap."
Vaelith studied the map.
"No."
His finger touched a narrow valley.
"Only the intelligent ones."
Several generals exchanged nervous glances.
King Lodrick sighed dramatically.
"And what makes these barbarians intelligent?"
Vaelith looked up.
Silver eyes gleamed behind the dark mask.
"Because they're still alive."
Silence followed.
The king stared at him.
Then laughed.
A loud, booming sound.
"You always know how to ruin optimism."
The meeting continued for hours.
Scouts.
Supplies.
Marching routes.
Fortifications.
By the time it finally ended, darkness had swallowed the castle.
The generals departed one by one.
Only the king and Vaelith remained.
The fire crackled softly between them.
King Lodrick poured himself more wine.
"You've been distracted today."
Vaelith remained silent.
The king smirked.
"That slave."
Nothing changed in Vaelith's expression.
"What slave?"
"The one from the banquet."
The king chuckled.
"The one who spilled wine."
Vaelith gathered several parchments from the table.
"The kingdom is preparing for war."
"And yet you're avoiding the question."
The commander looked at him.
Expressionless.
The king laughed again.
"Relax."
He raised his goblet.
"I merely find it amusing."
Vaelith had no interest in discussing palace slaves.
Or the strange feeling that had followed him since their collision.
Without another word, he turned and left the war room.
The corridors were quiet.
Most of the castle had gone to sleep.
Only guards and servants remained awake.
Torchlight flickered across ancient stone walls as he walked.
The storm continued outside.
Rain striking stone.
Wind howling through distant towers.
By the time he reached his chambers, exhaustion had settled into his bones.
The room was dark.
Silent.
Exactly how he preferred it.
He closed the door behind him.
Removed his cloak.
Set aside his weapons.
Then finally reached for the mask.
The black metal came away from his face.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
The weight gone.
The pressure gone.
Only silence remained.
Most people believed the mask existed because he was hiding something.
A scar.
A curse.
Some terrible secret.
The rumors changed every year.
Vaelith had never bothered correcting them.
People feared mysteries more than truth.
He placed the mask on a nearby table.
Then extinguished several candles.
The room darkened.
Outside, thunder rumbled across the mountains.
Inside, only the fire remained.
Eventually he lay down.
Closing his eyes.
Sleep came quickly.
As it always did.
Darkness swallowed him.
Then—
Moonlight.
Silver flowers.
A gentle breeze.
Vaelith stopped walking.
The field stretched endlessly before him.
Beautiful.
Silent.
Familiar.
For five years he had come here.
For five years she had been waiting.
Yet tonight—
Nothing.
The field was empty.
His gaze swept across the horizon.
No movement.
No laughter.
No voice calling his name.
Nothing.
A frown appeared on his face.
Strange.
She was always here.
Always.
Waiting among the flowers.
Looking at him as though she had been expecting him.
The absence felt wrong.
The dream felt wrong.
Minutes passed.
Still nothing.
For the first time in years, unease settled inside his chest.
A feeling he could not explain.
A feeling he did not like.
The silver field remained empty.
And for the first time in five years, Commander Vaelith found himself wondering where she was.
- Writer
