⋆˖☽ Chapter 8 ☾˖⋆
2899 Words
I averted my gaze, staring down the hollow length of the hall. I was too tired for the weight of his scrutiny. I walked past him, letting out a long, silent breath—but the relief was a ghost, short-lived and thin. I could feel his eyes boring into the nape of my neck, a physical pressure that made my muscles tighten. Behind me, the heavy, rhythmic strike of his boots began to follow, each step echoing like a countdown.
I listened closely, counting. One. Two. Three. Just before he reached me, I side-stepped, pivoting to face him with my jaw set so tight it ached.
"Tell me," he rasped. His chest rose and fell in jagged heaves, his lungs struggling to catch up with his temper. "Why... why did I hear the name Enkarthos?"
"You were listening?" I let a scoff escape, though the sound vibrated hollow in my chest.
"You think to feign ignorance now? You truly thought I would have just left?"
"No," I replied, my voice cool despite the heat rising in my cheeks. "I expected as much from you."
"Then why was Enkarthos's name uttered in your presence?" His voice never rose. Instead, it dropped to a low, predatory growl that vibrated through my own ribs. There was a slight tremor in his hand at his side—rage or desperation, I couldn't tell.
I shrugged, forcing a nonchalance I didn't feel while a cold prickle of sweat broke out along my spine. "Ask Mikaeus. It is not my place to share what was discussed."
He tilted his head, sizing me up, a bitter smirk twisting his lips. I straightened my spine, refusing to blink, refusing to be the first to break. He stepped forward, invading my space, and I took a reflexive step back, desperate to keep some sliver of air between us.
"You," he breathed. His entire body was shaking now.
My back hit the wall with a dull thud, the vibration rattling my skull. Before I could move, his hand slammed against the stone next to my face, trapping me. He loomed over me—a wall of sudden, stifling heat that swallowed the dim light of the hallway. I had to crane my neck back just to meet his eyes; the shadows of his frame consumed what little remained of my world.
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. Enough.
"You aren't the only one looking for answers," I insisted, my voice gaining an edge.
"No, but I am not the one who scurried out of here like a rat," he sneered, leaning closer until we were inches apart. "Joining the Vow only to swim your way back."
"I had no choice." I ground the words out through bared teeth.
"You? You had no choice?" He laughed, a dark, jagged sound. "You fight everything blindly, Alanah. You always have."
"You are one to speak—"
He cut off my retreat, leaning his forearm against the wall right beside my ear. The stone bit into my shoulder blades as I shrank back, but there was nowhere left to go. He didn't touch me, but he was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to count the flecks of gold in his furious green eyes.
"Speak." The command was a dangerous whisper against my skin.
I flattened myself against the plaster. He wouldn't stop. He would crush the truth out of me if he had to.
"Thinking of a lie?"
"No." I took an anchoring breath and forced my eyes back to his. "Ondina."
My voice was firm. Steady. "They have her."
Emeric’s brows furrowed, the line of his jaw shifting. "Who?"
"Someone I care about," I said, my voice rising with a sudden, sharp grief. "She helped me... she..."
The memory flashed, unbidden and cruel: her fingers slipping from mine like a phantom as Ruslan ripped her away. The raw, paralyzed fear in her eyes. My fingers curled into a fist at my side. Bile rose in my throat, and my nostrils flared as the grief turned into something much sharper.
I will destroy him. I will be the one to watch the life drain from his face.
"Ruslan." The name tore from my throat like a curse. I didn't hide it anymore; I let the mask slip, exposing the jagged, bleeding edges of the hatred festering behind my eyes.
Emeric flinched.
His gaze searched mine, hunting for the deceit he was so sure of, but he found no lie. The conviction in his green eyes faltered, the gold flecks darkening as confusion began to bleed into his rage. He looked at me as if seeing a stranger, or perhaps, realizing he had never truly seen me at all.
The tension in his arm dissolved slowly, his hand sliding from the wall as if the stone had suddenly turned to ice.
"Ruslan," he repeated, his voice losing its predatory edge, replaced by a wary quiet. "Who is he?"
"The Commander of the Underkeep. The one everyone follows and fears like a cult." I glared at him, stepping into the space he had just vacated. "You think I am vile? You have never truly met a monster, Emeric."
He took a step back. "I..." The words lost their way, dying in his throat.
I didn't give him the chance to find them. My shoulder slamming into his chest as I shoved past. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, and I swallowed a groan of pain, refusing to show him even a flicker of weakness.
As I retreated through the halls, the only sound was the hollow echo of my own footsteps. Emeric stayed rooted to the spot, a silent silhouette as I rounded the corner. I focused on the mechanical motion of every step, drawing a wider valley between us—one that felt as though it were settling with the finality of a grave.
My pulse began to slow, the adrenaline leaving me cold. My fingers wrapped around the handle of my door, the chilled metal seeping into my skin. The wood creaked open. I stepped inside, pressed my back against the door to shut it, and slid down until I hit the floor.
I let my head fall back against the wood, closing my eyes until the world turned black.
I need them... I need all of them.
"Enkarthos." I let the name drift across the empty, silent room. "I don't think I want to lose you... won't you answer me? Can you even hear me?"
My heart gave a sudden, sharp throb. A tingling sensation rose up the back of my neck, making the hair stand on end. Outside, the wind howled, slamming against the windowpane with such force my eyes shot open.
"Please." I twisted the fabric of my shirt tight between my fingers, anchoring myself. "Just be okay. I will figure this out."
I let my eyes flutter closed again, letting the darkness take me.
⭒☽ ◑ ☾⭒
The nightmare before me disintegrated into smoke, plunging me into a suffocating, absolute black. A heavy, cloying stench of rot assaulted my senses. My stomach lurched, and I swallowed hard, forcing down the acidic burn of bile rising in my throat.
The air shifted.
My nose and cheeks stung from a violent drop in temperature, a phantom frost that racked my body until the marrow of my bones ached. Each breath seared my lungs. My hand flew to my mouth, desperate to trap the warmth. What kind of new nightmare is this?
My eyes thrashed against a bottomless void. Wait—I squinted. In the distance, a faint golden light pulsed, struggling in and out of existence. It was barely a spark, but it was enough. I tried to lift my foot, but my muscles strained against an invisible, crushing gravity. I pulled again, harder. With a wet, tearing sound. Like something detaching from my skin. My foot released.
I took one step, then another. But the light flickered and died.
Something cold and viscous snaked up my legs, a sentient oil dragging me down. It yanked violently. My body pitched forward; my hands shot out to break the fall but found only emptiness. I slammed face-first into the miasma. The substance coiled up my torso, heavy and suffocating, threatening to steal what little air I had left. I clawed for purchase, but I was met only with the void.
My ears rang, a high-pitched whine, until a sensation rose in the back of my mind—familiar, anchoring. It reverberated through my hollowed-out chest.
Alanah.
His voice was strained, breaking with static, but it was undeniable. The light flared in sync with his syllable, burning bright before vanishing into the dark once more.
The miasma coiled tighter, constriction turning to crushing force, consuming me entirely—an absolute violation of control.
My eyes snapped open.
Sweat slicked my temples, and a warm, wet sensation prickled at my lips. I brought a shaking hand up to wipe it away. My vision blurred as I pulled my fingers back; fresh crimson stained the skin.
What kind of nightmare...
I forced myself to anchor on the memory of him. Enkarthos. The voice had been his, but the cadence was wrong. Distorted. I shook my head, unable to trust my own mind. It wasn't as if any of us slept without ghosts haunting the dark.
I struggled to my feet, my body aching with a phantom bruising as the gray, diluted light of day poured through the windows. I retreated to the bathroom, grabbing a damp cloth to scrub the blood from my mouth and fingers. The copper taste lingered, a grim reminder.
Walking back to the window, I looked out. Below, two massive dragons were hauling felled trees along the path, heavy wagons harnessed to their muscular frames. The world outside was churning with industry, everyone going about their day as if nightmares didn't exist.
"Maybe..." I stepped back from the glass, the walls suddenly feeling too close. I needed the sky. I needed to not be here.
I turned on my heel and headed for the door. Just as I cracked it open, a man in dark breeches and a simple linen shirt walked past, a ghost of motion disappearing around the corner. I stepped into the hall and closed the door behind me.
Silence. Emptiness.
As I moved toward the exit, I paused. A white cat with piercing blue eyes was stretching in the center of the hallway, a stark contrast to the gloom. It turned its head slowly, letting out a soft trill of a meow, then straightened and strode toward me. It wound itself around my leg—before padding over to a patch of gray light beneath the window. It curled up there, tucking its nose beneath its tail.
If only life were that simple.
I pushed on. As I heaved the heavy door open, the blinding daylight forced a wince. The bitter air rushed me immediately, sharp and awakening, raising goosebumps along my arms.
My gaze followed the specks of glowing blue pavement that marked the path toward town. Suddenly, a roar tore through the air, vibrating in my chest. My head snapped toward the woods just as a dragon touched down on the outskirts, the wind from its wings kicking up dust as a smaller kin rushed out to greet it.
Desperately, I scanned the area, hunting for obsidian scales. Aurenoxious. He had to be here somewhere. But the dark, comforting shape of him was missing.
"Excuse me," a man’s voice called from behind.
I stepped sharply off the path, whirling around. Our eyes met, and my breath hitched in my throat. I froze, muscles locking, waiting for the recoil. Waiting for the scowl. But he didn't flinch. Instead, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and a warm, genuine smile touched his lips.
"Sorry, dear," he said gently. "I didn't want my young dragon here to bump into you."
Just then, a small dragon with scales like polished amethyst scampered past, chaotic and bright, nearly stomping on my toes despite the warning.
"Thank you," I managed to choke out.
He gave a slight, respectful nod, turned, and jogged after the energetic creature.
Nearby, people and medium-sized dragons worked in tandem to rebuild a home scarred by the invasion. It was a slow, rhythmic process, brick by brick. Stone laid, followed by a dragon breathing a controlled, precise burst of fire to fuse it in place. Creation from destruction.
Light footfalls approached me, followed by a persistent tug on my shirt.
A young girl with dirty blonde hair and a splash of freckles across her nose looked up at me, curiosity bright and unbridled in her hazel eyes. Panic flared. Unable to meet that innocent gaze, I kept my eyes fixed on the path.
"Are you new here?" she asked, beaming. "I don't think I have seen you before."
"Yes, I am," I replied, my voice hushed, barely a whisper. Where is her mother?
"I thought so." She tugged at my shirt again, insistent.
My body went rigid, but I lowered myself to her level. She cupped her small hand around her mouth and leaned in, whispering into my ear as if sharing a secret.
"I like your eyes."
Before I could react, before I could process the shock, she pulled back and dashed away, the tips of her ears glowing a faint, embarrassed red.
I stood there, blinking. Stunned.
I... I didn't understand.
Why didn't I see this before?
I took a steadying breath, my chest tight with a confusing mix of relief and anxiety. I wasn't ready for this—for their kindness. It felt dangerous.
I hurried through the town, keeping my head low, avoiding any more collisions with humanity. As I walked, the laughter and clatter of reconstruction faded, slowly replaced by the rhythmic, thundering roar of the ocean.
The stone path gave way to soft, wet sand, my boots sinking with each step. The heavy, brine-rich scent of salt filled my lungs, scrubbing away the memory of the rot from my dream. I walked right to the tide line, watching the gray water rush toward me, violent and beautiful. Cold sea spray misted my face. I closed my eyes, and the little girl's voice echoed in the dark behind my lids.
I like your eyes.
How will I ever get used to this?
Steady footfalls crushed the sand behind me.
"I figured I would find you here." I didn't need to turn around to recognize the weight in Mikaeus's voice.
"And why is that?"
"Because there is no one else down here." He stopped beside me, respectful of my perimeter but close enough for his voice to carry over the wind. "I saw you with Helena."
My head snapped toward him, defensive instinct flaring. "I didn't do anything to her."
His frown deepened, etching lines into his face. "That isn't what I was implying. You just looked... fearful."
I turned my gaze back to the rolling water, unable to look at him. "I am not used to such kindness," I said, my voice curt to hide the tremor.
A long silence stretched between us. It wasn't the comfortable kind; it was thick, filled only by the rhythmic, aggressive churning of the surf and the wind whipping between our silhouettes. I waited for him to speak, and he seemed to be waiting for me to break, but neither of us did. We simply stood there, two pillars against the tide, until the tension finally began to settle into a weary truce.
"I think you should rest another two days," he said gently. "Then, come to my office around an hour after sunrise."
What does he want? I didn't ask; I just remained silent, staring out at the whitecaps.
"I know you and Emeric do not get along." He stepped infront of me, his golden eyes locking onto mine, piercing. "But you both will need to figure this out if we are to continue."
"Emeric will never trust me," I whispered, my hand clenching into a tight fist at my side. He has every reason not to. Not with who I was.
"That is something you do not know," Mikaeus countered. "We do not know what the future holds. But in two days, we will hold a meeting with Emeric and Mira."
I nodded, the knot in my stomach tightening at the mere mention of Emeric’s name. Mikaeus gave me one last, lingering look before turning back toward the path, leaving me alone with the crashing waves.
Two days. I have two days.
I must recover.
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- Writer
