⋆˖☽ Chapter 3 ☾˖⋆
3579 Words
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, the pressure mounting until my throat felt crushed from the inside out. My body seized, locking into a statue of shock, my gaze tethered to him.
Sierus stood motionless, his brown eyes wide and fixed on mine. A storm of unvoiced emotion passed through them—relief warring with disbelief, heavily veiled behind a barrier I couldn’t quite dismantle. The firelight from the forge danced across the planes of his face, casting long, flickering shadows that highlighted the small mole beneath his eye. I traced the lines of him; where he had once been slender, boyish, his arms were now defined by rigid cords of muscle, dusted with soot.
"Sierus..." I breathed the name. It was a ghost of a sound, barely audible over the crackle of the forge. "Why... why are you here?"
He took a single, tentative step forward, as if testing the reality of my presence, but his approach was cut short. Elisheva stepped between us, severing my line of sight. Her hands pressed onto my shoulders—gentle, grounding, yet firm enough to hold me in place.
"By the moons." Her voice was tight, strained with a terror she tried to suppress. She turned her head sharply. "Sierus, go. Get my healing supplies. Now."
Her hands trembled against my skin for a heartbeat before dropping to her sides. When she turned her attention back to me, the hardness in her expression melted into something heartbreakingly soft. "Come now, Alanah. Let's get you out of these wet clothes before the chill settles in your bones."
She asked no questions. She didn't demand to know why I was bleeding or where I had been. She simply guided me into a back bedroom and pulled open the small, creaking wardrobe. Her black low ponytail swayed rhythmically, a pendulum of normalcy in a world gone wrong, as she rummaged through the linens.
What must they be thinking?
I shifted my weight, and a sharp lance of pain shot up my leg. I swallowed hard, forcing my features to remain neutral, locking the agony behind my teeth.
Elisheva turned, clothing folded neatly atop her hands, and set the pile on the narrow bed. "Why don't you change? I’ll wait outside, then I will clean you up." She offered a smile—pained and terrifyingly kind.
"Thank you." The words scraped out from the back of my throat.
She paused, sensing the weight of what I left unsaid, but she didn't press. She just nodded and left, the door clicking softly behind her.
As soon as the latch caught, I released the shuddering breath I had been holding. My muscles, wound so tight they felt ready to snap, began to tremble violently. Doesn't she see the blood?
I stripped off my cold, sodden layers, letting them fall into a heavy, wet pile on the floor. The ambient warmth from the forge seeped through the walls, a welcome caress against my shivering skin. My fingers brushed the rough, homespun fabric of the white shirt she had left. Lifting my arms to pull it on stole the air from my lungs, a fresh wave of bruising pain radiating through my ribs, but I forced the garment down. I pulled on the dark pants, cinching the belt tight around my waist to hold myself together.
A glint of metal snagged my attention—my reflection, distorted and ghostly in the polished blade of a decorative dagger hanging on the wall.
I drew closer. A stranger stared back.
The skin beneath my eyes was dark and bruised, a stark contrast to the scrapes marring my cheeks. My fingernails were jagged, torn from desperate clawing. I closed the crimson eyes, willing the frantic pulse in my veins to slow, and turned to the door.
When I pushed it open, Sierus and Elisheva were huddled close by the table, their voices low and urgent. Their heads snapped toward me as the hinges groaned. Elisheva was at my side in an instant, moving with the efficiency of a woman used to mending broken things.
"Come, child. Sit down."
Her presence was soothing, a mother’s touch that quieted the storm raging in my mind, though she couldn't stop the heavy, grey fog of weariness from clouding my vision.
Sierus pulled a chair from the table, the legs scraping against the floorboards, and gestured for me to sit. I didn't fight him; I couldn't. My legs gave out, and I slumped heavily into the wood. He studied me, his expression unreadable, searching for the girl he used to know.
"I know you both want answers," I rasped, my voice rough with exhaustion. "But first... Sierus. Why are you here? At Elisheva’s? You should be in Caelfall."
His gaze wavered, flickering from me to Elisheva and back to the table.
"You said you would be heading to Stonehollow," he whispered, the admission barely loud enough to carry. "I came looking for you. But I couldn't find you anywhere."
"And why here? Did you know I would come here?" My brows furrowed.
He shook his head quickly. "No. I had no idea. Fate, perhaps." He looked down at his calloused hands, avoiding my crimson stare. "There was simply nothing left holding me to Caelfall."
"But your family..."
"Do you really think I wanted to help make bread with my mother all my life?" He looked up then, a sudden, fierce desperation igniting in his eyes. "I want to be useful, Alanah. I want to matter."
I leaned forward a fraction, fighting the ache in my body to bridge the distance between us. "But you always have been."
"You... you really think so? Even as just some bread boy?"
"Yes." I nodded firmly. "Always."
The corners of his lips quirked upward, a soft flush of red coloring his cheeks. The moment hung in the air, fragile and suspended, until Elisheva cleared her throat loudly.
She uncorked a bottle, the sharp, medicinal bite of high-proof alcohol instantly cutting through the lingering scent of smoke and iron. She poured the liquid onto a small linen cloth.
"We need to start taking care of you, Alanah. Brace yourself."
I closed my eyes, steeling myself against the inevitable. The sting was immediate and vicious as she dabbed the soaked bandage against the cuts on my face. My jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding together to keep a cry locked in my throat. The air felt cold, ghosting across my open wounds as she worked.
"I am glad you are safe," she murmured.
I lifted my head, wincing. Elisheva paused, her hand hovering just above my cheek. "Are you ready to tell me what has happened?"
The words died in my throat, choking me. I can't tell them everything. It's not safe for them. I am a danger just by breathing in this room. As soon as she finishes bandaging me, I have to leave.
She began pressing the linen down again, the renewed sting grounding me in the present.
Her hands were steady, kind, untainted. Unlike mine.
"Elisheva," I started, the question heavy on my tongue. I need to know if I am safe here, or if the truth of what I have become will turn them against me. "Do you believe... do you think dragons are monsters?"
Elisheva paused, the linen hovering over a scrape. She exchanged a quick, confused glance with Sierus.
"Monsters?" Elisheva repeated carefully, testing the word. "No. Dangerous beasts, perhaps. But monsters imply evil."
"Why do you ask?" Sierus stepped closer, his brow furrowed, sensing the weight behind the words. "You ask as if it matters."
My free hand twisted the fabric of the rough shirt until my knuckles turned white. "It does matter. Because... they are not what we think they are." I looked up at them, pleading for them to understand the impossible. "I ended up on an island where the people work with them. Bond with them."
Their expressions shifted—skepticism warring with the worry that perhaps my mind had broken along with my body. "You don't believe me, do you?"
"That's not it," Elisheva assured quickly, though her eyes remained guarded. "We are just... taken aback. How did you end up on this island?"
My gaze dropped to the scarred floorboards. "It is called Luminethra. And I escaped it."
"Why did you run?" Sierus asked, stepping into my line of sight. "If it was a good place, why leave?"
I let out a small, bitter chuckle; it was a hollow, rattling sound. "Because I was foolish. Leaving was my naive mistake. And now I must return."
Elisheva laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, the warmth seeping through my shirt. "Dear, you have to make mistakes to learn. It is what you do now, going forward, that counts."
As she spoke, the shadows next to the forge shifted. They lengthened, curled, and coalesced into a figure. Blonde hair, matted with blood. Warm hazel eyes that turned pitch black, void of light.
Celia.
I jerked back, scrambling away from the ghost, the chair screeching against the floor. Cold, dead fingers wrapped around my throat. But in a blink, she dissolved into mist, vanishing back into the shadows.
Gone.
I lifted my hands, staring at them. They were shaking violently. Tears blurred my vision, hot and stinging, spilling over onto my cheeks.
"I..." The words felt broken, jagged glass in my mouth. "I have killed people."
A choked sob tore through my throat, painful and raw. "And there will be more."
A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room, thicker than the smoke of the forge. My breathing grew hollow, shallow gasps escaping my chest as black specks began to dance across the edges of my vision.
Elisheva knelt on the floor beside me. I refused to meet her gaze, staring blindly at the wood grain, waiting for the condemnation.
"I know you would not hurt others without reason," she insisted, her voice fierce. "I don't know what happened out there, Alanah, but I do know you. You have protected people with your life for years."
"I agree," Sierus’s voice cut through, firm and desperate to reach me. "Whatever happened, we can figure this out together."
Not anymore. I am not the girl you knew.
I shook my head, commanding my muscles to stand, but they refused to listen.
"No. They are dangerous," I rasped. "They are hunting me as we speak. I can't stay here." I turned to her, desperation leaking into my voice, cracking it wide open. "Elisheva, I am sorry to ask, but do you have any spare weapons?"
"Yes—"
"Then can I have one?" I interrupted, the words tumbling out fast, manic. "I do not have anything for trade, but I will repay you. I promise. I just need a bow."
"Alanah." Her voice dropped, becoming the immovable object. "You will not be taking a weapon. At least not now. You need to rest."
"But—"
"You need rest," she repeated. "Leaving now, in this state, is only asking for them to find you. You are practically a corpse walking."
"They are The Order of the Ashen Vow," I said, letting the name hang in the air like a curse.
The name seemed to suck the warmth from the room. But Sierus stepped in, his jaw set. "That does not matter. What matters is that you survive the night."
I tried to force myself up again, to push past the limits of my endurance, but this time my body screamed in protest. A pained moan escaped my lips, and the room spun violently, the floor rushing up to meet me.
"Just a few days," Elisheva pressed, catching me before I tipped over, her arms solid and safe.
"Fine." I closed my eyes, the darkness finally overtaking me, dragging me down. "But if anything happens, I leave immediately. I need to get back to Luminethra..."
⭒☽ ◑ ☾⭒
A gray morning haze bled through the window, turning the stagnant air into a suspension of dancing dust motes. The dawn’s chill seeped through the stone, settling deep into the marrow of my bones. Somewhere below, the rhythmic heave of bellows and the sharp, melodic clink of a hammer striking iron broke the silence—the only evidence that warmth still existed in this world.
I attempted to roll onto my side, but the mattress dipped, and a jagged bolt of agony cinched tight around my ribs. My breath hitched, and my eyes squeezed shut, inviting the darkness back in.
Ondina... please be safe.
My fingers curled into the rough linens. Do not let Ruslan break you.
"I promise," I whispered to the hollow room, my voice brittle. "I will save you before I destroy him. Just hold on."
I cast the thought out like a prayer. A phantom memory echoed in the back of my mind—a fleeting, ghostly comfort: It will be alright, child. I wished it were real, but the silence that followed was heavy and absolute. You still aren't here. In the true reality, I am alone.
A gentle rap on the wood pulled me from the spiral.
"It's me... Sierus," he called softly from the corridor. "Is it alright if I come in?"
"Come in," I croaked. My voice was thick, weighed down by sleep and the metallic taste of pain.
The door groaned on its hinges. Sierus stood tall, yet his posture was strangely rigid. He ran a hand through his hair, hesitating on the threshold as if crossing it might shatter something fragile.
"Elisheva is heading out for supplies. She’ll be back soon." His gaze fixed resolutely on the scarred floorboards. "I... I cleaned up before coming in."
I blinked, my vision sharpening. Gone were the sweat and soot of the forge. He was scrubbed clean, smelling of lye soap and fresh linen, dressed in a shirt that hadn't seen the spark of an anvil. A faint, traitorous flush crept up his neck, staining the tips of his ears crimson.
"You can come in, Sierus," I said again, softening the edge in my tone.
His head snapped up. He moved carefully, his boots silent on the floor, until he stood at the foot of the bed.
I dug my palms into the mattress, teeth gritted as I heaved my bruised body upright to lean against the wall. I tried to mask the sharp flare of agony behind a neutral facade, but the tremor in my arms betrayed me. Sierus watched, his brows pressed together, hands twitching at his sides as if fighting the urge to reach out.
"Sierus, sit. Please."
He hesitated, flinching as if the command were physical, before lowering himself onto the very edge of the mattress. He perched there precariously, barely putting weight on the springs.
We spoke in unison, voices overlapping, before stumbling into silence.
"You go first," I murmured.
"I was wondering if you would share more about that place," he said, studying my face with an intensity that made me want to look away. "I am curious about a society that lives with dragons."
A faint, humorless smile touched my lips. I shouldn't be surprised, I mused. He always questions everything.
"There isn't much more to share than what I have already told you."
"Then tell me," he pressed, leaning in slightly, "how did you end up there?"
"Sierus..."
"Don't." His voice sharpened, then cracked, revealing the worry beneath. "I know that tone. That deflection." He planted a wide hand on the sheets, leaning in until the scent of soap filled my senses. Desperation bled into his words. "Please. I just want to know what happened to you."
I sighed, the sound rattling in my chest, and looked toward the window. Can I tell him the truth?
A memory flashed behind my eyes—violent and bright. Mikeaus. I saw the blood-red of his hair, the golden light of his eyes asking for forgiveness. No... I can't risk it.
"A dragon rider and I crossed paths," I said, keeping my voice flat. "He brought me to the island. He thought I could be of use, since I am skilled with a bow."
Sierus frowned, searching my eyes. "I still can't comprehend you going willingly. Your hatred for dragons is—"
"Was strong. Yes." I cut him off. "But I do not hate them anymore. My hatred has found a new target."
"The Ashen Vow?"
"Yes." My jaw clenched tight enough to ache. "They are dangerous, Sierus."
"Why have we never heard of them?"
"Because they thrive in the dark," I spat. "They use the Cursed Moon to cloak their movements." Sierus jaw tightened.
The old familiar poison of hatred began to boil in my veins, hotter than the pain in my ribs. I tried to push myself up, needing to move, to do something. "I don't have time to be lying here."
"Alanah, stop." Sierus’s voice was firm but gentle. "You need rest, or you won't be strong enough to face anyone."
I sank back against the wall, defeated by gravity and truth. A shaky breath moved in my lungs as I forced my muscles to unlock.
"How do you plan on returning to... Lum-lu..." He stumbled over the foreign syllables.
"Luminethra," I corrected. "By foot. How else?"
"Will you at least stay three more days?"
My head tilted to the side. "Why three days?"
"I have a delivery to make in Vidnamor. It's a town near the coast."
I shook my head immediately. "No. I don't want to bring you into this any further. You are already in danger just by having me in your house."
"We both know that, and we accept it." His shoulders slumped, a heavy resignation settling over him. "I am not asking to come with you this time, Alanah. I know I do not belong beside you in that world. My place is here now, at the forge."
The admission hung in the air between us, heavy and final.
"I simply want to take you as close as possible," he continued quietly. "You are not in a position to travel by foot. Think about it. You know your limits better than anyone."
I let out a defeated sigh. "Fine. But if anything—and I mean anything—dangerous happens, you turn the wagon around and leave. You pretend you do not know me."
His mouth parted to argue, but the words died in his throat.
"Please. Promise me, Sierus." My voice was soft, but it held the weight of an order. "I do not wish to see you hurt on my behalf."
He leaned back, creating distance between us as he shook his head slowly. "I can try... but I can't promise that. You know if our positions were reversed, you would feel the same."
I bit the inside of my cheek, the sharp tang of iron flooding my tongue. But I can handle myself, I thought, eyeing his hands. They were large, calloused hands made for creation, for shaping metal—not for killing. Can he defend himself? How far does his sword skill truly go?
I let out a breath. It didn't matter what he promised. I would keep him safe, at least for as long as our paths were aligned.
"Fine."
An awkward silence settled between us, thicker than the dust in the air. I kept my gaze glued to the floorboards, feeling the physical weight of his stare. He studied me as if he feared that if he blinked, I might vanish into smoke and memory.
He finally broke the quiet. "The way you left last time..."
I slowly raised my head. The shadow of past hurt was still etched clearly on his face.
"I wasn't sure if you would do something you would regret," he confessed. "You had a look in your eyes... it scared me, if I am honest."
My chest tightened. The image flashed in my mind—my bow drawn taut, aimed at Zarina, and the terrifying, cold knowledge that I could have ended Mikeaus's life without a second thought.
"I am just thankful we can separate this time on better terms." His voice dropped to a murmur, intimate and sad. "I would have regretted our last parting until the day I went into the earth."
A wistful, pained smile touched his lips. He leaned in again, instinctively closing the gap I had tried to maintain.
"And I am so happy to see that you are no longer hiding who you are." His eyes searched mine, seeing too much. "I never believed you were a curse."
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- Writer
