⋆˖☽ Chapter 6 ☾˖⋆
3181 Words
Smoke choked the air, a thick, sulfurous gray that burned my lungs and turned the world into a haze of ghosts. Something massive shrieked through the gloom, slamming into the beach with earth-shattering force. Sand and wet shale sprayed outward as a dragon’s roar ripped the sky open. Above, the clouds ignited. Dragons rained fire upon the incoming fleet, the undulating flames casting the only light upon the churning, ink-black sea.
A single shape broke the surface of the waves—a man in armor, water pouring off him in sheets as he dragged himself onto the shale.
He spotted me instantly. His hand went for his hilt, a snarl twisting his face, but my bow was already up. The string hummed against my cheek, a vibration of deadly promise. I released.
The arrow hissed through the air, finding the weak point at his throat.
He didn't even have time to draw his blade. The impact snapped his head back, his feet skidding. He crumpled into the sand, silence following the splash.
I lowered the bow, my breathing ragged. The song of battle was my guide—steel ringing against steel, the wet thud of bodies hitting the earth, and the screams. Letting the sounds lead me deeper into the burning town. I paid attention to every shift in the heat, every vibration in the ground.
Protect them. The thought was a drumbeat fueling each agonizing step.
The air pressure shifted. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. I threw myself into a roll just as a massive greatsword cleaved the space where my head had been. The blade hissed, biting into the earth.
I scrambled up, tucking into a crouch, but the movement stole the breath from my lungs. My ribs—a hot spike of pain radiating through my chest. By the moons.
"Vow Filth!"
The voice was deep and held terrifying familiarity in my chest.
The greatsword was already swinging again, a pendulum of death slicing through the smoke. I ducked under the heavy steel, abandoning my bow and ripping the dagger from my thigh. I surged forward, inside his reach, and slammed the pommel of the dagger into his chest. It hit something firm—muscle, and a low grunt escaped him.
It wasn't enough. He recovered instantly, his stance shifting, ready for the kill. His green eyes locked onto mine, dead and flat.
"Emeric, stop!" I screamed over the din, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my bruised ribs.
He froze. The tip of his blade hovered inches from the ground. I took a hesitant step forward. His mouth snapped shut, his jaw tightening until the muscle feathered.
"How do you know my name?" he seethed.
As he raised the sword for another strike, I stepped into the light of a nearby fire, letting the glow illuminate my face. Letting him see the crimson of my eyes.
His grip faltered on the leather hilt. "Alanah?"
"Ye—"
The shock vanished, replaced by fury. The sword came up in a vicious, sweeping strike. I threw myself backward, barely dodging. The wind of the blade whipped my hair.
"You... you brought the Vow here," he spat, advancing on me.
"No, I didn't! I wouldn't do that!"
He didn't listen. He just swung. The air shrieked as his blade cut a wide, brutal arc toward my neck. I jumped back, trying to maintain distance, but the pain in my side was a tether, slowing me down.
His eyes went dark, his voice dropping to a dangerous, vibrating low. "I gave you a warning, Alanah."
My breath hitched, sharp and painful. "I remember."
"And yet." He let out a dark, breathless huff, tightening his grip. "Here you are."
"I am not with the Vow!" My scream cracked, desperate and raw. "I am not like—"
His body slammed into me.
My world tilted violently. I hit the ground, the impact knocking the last of the air from my lungs. Black dots danced across my vision as I gasped, choking on smoke and pain. I dug my fingers into the cold stone of the street, trying to ground myself as his face loomed over me, unable to move as my ears rang.
He pinned me down, his weight suffocating. A sneer curled his lip, his breathing as ragged as mine.
"It..." Every syllable a jagged edge against my throat "It was my only choice. I needed to return."
"So you could be like Celia?"
The name struck me harder than his sword ever could. It hung in the air between us, heavy and poisonous.
"I am not like her."
The fight seemed to drain out of him. His weight lifted. I lay there for a second, frozen, watching as he bent to retrieve his dropped sword.
Move! I commanded my broken body. Move or die.
Painfully, my muscles obeyed. He turned, but I was already rising. I ignored the screaming protest of my ribs, gritted my teeth, and drove my knee into his groin with every ounce of force I had left.
His eyes went wide. He crumpled, hitting his knees with a choked groan.
I didn't wait. My hands shook, but I pressed the cold steel of my dagger against his throat. My face was inches from his, sweat and ash mingling on our skin. I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear.
"I am not your enemy," I whispered, the words stern, trembling with restraint. "And I will not kill you."
I pulled back. When his eyes met mine, the hatred had fractured into something unreadable. Confusion? Regret?
Crunch.
Soft, quick footsteps behind me. I spun, digging my heel into the ground to keep from toppling over.
A Vow member stood there, silhouette framed by the burning buildings.
I didn't hesitate. I flipped my grip and lunged. My dagger pierced his chest, sinking in—but the angle was wrong. I missed the heart. I yanked the blade out, but I was too slow. The Vow member’s sword was already descending, a silver flash destined for my skull.
I braced for what was to come.
Clang.
The impact never came. The sound of steel shattering steel pierced my ears. I stumbled back, blinking through the sweat to see Emeric’s greatsword interposed between us, catching the blow.
With a guttural grunt, Emeric shoved the man's blade aside. In one fluid motion, he spun, his greatsword slicing the man’s head clean from his shoulders. The body crumpled, blood painting the stony ground black in the moonlight.
My head snapped toward Emeric. "Why?"
Emeric kicked the corpse away, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with a mix of adrenaline and unresolved fury. He pointed the bloodied tip of his greatsword at my chest.
"Because you don't get to die yet," he snarled, stepping over the body. "Not until you reveal the truth."
His grip tightened on the sword, still hovering. His brows creased as he let the sword fall to his side, and he looked away.
"Then it's agreed," I breathed.
"Against my better judgment... yes." He wiped a smear of blood from his jaw. "But first, we take care of the Vow."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me." He shook his head, running a rough hand through his hair. A ragged sigh escaped him, lost to the wind.
The wind picked up—not a breeze, but a gale. It whipped my hair across my face, stinging my eyes. A massive shadow fell over us, blotting out the fires, blotting out the moons.
Above, a dragon blocked out the sky. The beat of its wings churned the very air, sucking the oxygen right out of the street.
The air grew hot and harsh as she hovered. With earth-shaking weight, her feet slammed down, sending a shockwave up through the soles of my boots.
Her scales were distinct in the firelight—a brilliant, deep crimson. Her golden eyes locked onto me, holding a depth of intelligence that stopped my heart. Sadness. Relief.
Zarina.
She lowered her massive body to the earth. A shadow slid down her flank, hitting the ground with practiced ease—Mikaeus.
His red hair was a beacon through the smoke. Zarina leaned her great head in, nuzzling his neck, her eyelids fluttering shut for a brief, tender moment. He remained still, accepting the touch, a warrior grounded by his beast.
My pulse quickened, thumping against my bruised ribs.
Zarina pulled back, her golden gaze returning to me. Mikaeus turned. His steps brought him closer, slow and deliberate, his eyes tracing every bruise on my face, every tear in my clothes. He stopped an arm's length away, as if afraid I was a hallucination born of the smoke.
"You actually came back."
I tried to speak, but the words were stuck in my throat. Mikaeus reached for me, his fingers trembling, hovering in the space between us as if I were made of smoke.
"Yes." The word was a broken whisper, barely a breath.
His hand stalled in mid-air. His fist clenched, before dropping dead to his side. He searched my face, desperate to find an answer, but I couldn't hold his gaze. I stared at the scorched earth beneath my feet, watching the embers die as heat rushed into my cheeks.
He closed the distance in a single, suffocating stride. The sudden warmth of his body overwhelmed me, smelling of salt and smoke. "I... I am sorry."
"I don't need an apology," he started firmly, but his voice cracked, betraying the stone-faced leader. "I just need you here."
I looked up, my chest aching. He took a sharp breath, his eyes pleading for a response. "I—"
"Enough!"
Emeric’s arm barred the way, a wall of sudden iron. He went unnervingly quiet. He didn't look at me; his focus was locked on Mikaeus with a predatory stillness. Mikaeus froze, his brow furrowing in a flash of territorial anger before he stepped back. Only then did Emeric turn. He mapped me with his eyes—a slow, cold inventory that seemed to weigh the cost of my return against the dirt on my skin.
I felt the sudden, frantic urge to cover my throat. I stumbled back, my heels catching on the uneven ground just as the dense smoke began to clear.
"Now is not the time," Emeric’s voice sliced through the chaos of the burning coastline. "You’re—"
"The Vow are retreating," a man yelled over the din. "Everyone gather."
Mikaeus flinched. He stepped closer again, his gaze locking onto my darkened hair. I saw the moment the confusion turned to a quiet, warring panic. "What—"
He swallowed the question, his jaw clenching so hard I heard the bone click. "Take her back to the estate."
He just tilted his head in a mocking sort of acknowledgement.
"I am needed here." Mikaeus turned his eyes to the coastline, watching the fires climb toward the sky. "This is my duty." He turned back to Emeric, stepping into his space until they were uncomfortably close. "I expect to find her in her room. If any harm comes to her, Emeric, you will be held fully accountable."
"Fine."
"Do I have your word?"
"You have my word."
Why does he simply trust him? The question burned in my mind. Always? Emeric does what he pleases.
Mikaeus looked at me one last time—"We will talk once I am finished here"—then ripped himself away, turning back toward the roar of the fight. I stood rooted to the spot, watching his broad back fade into the grey veil of the smoke until he was nothing but a ghost.
"Let's go."
Emeric’s command yanked me out of the trance. He stood waiting, the massive weight of his greatsword balanced on his shoulder with the casual arrogance of a man who had forgotten what it felt like to be tired. I stooped down, my fingers fumbling for my bow, and slid it over my shoulder.
Above us, Zarina took flight. The sudden, violent wind from her wings whipped my hair across my face, whistling in my ears like a warning.
"One wrong move..." Emeric’s lips barely moved as he gestured for me to walk beside him.
I fell in step, matching his long, arrogant stride.
"I need to see you at all times," he said, his voice flat and leaving no room for argument.
I glanced over my shoulder once. Mikaeus’s form was a mere smudge of shadow in the distance. I forced myself to look ahead. My hands crept up to my bow, my fingers twisting the smooth wood. I didn't need to look to know Emeric was watching me from his periphery, tracking my every breath.
The walk was a blur of aching muscles and heavy silence. As the roar of the burning coastline faded behind us, replaced by the unnatural quiet of the estate’s outer walls, the weight of my return began to sink in.
The gentle, rhythmic glow of crystals embedded in the stone path came into view. I stole a glance at him. His back was a straight line of pure confidence. He caught my gaze, his eyes sharp, and I instantly snapped my head forward. The air felt too thin to catch, leaving me lightheaded and hollow.
The main estate loomed. The massive oak doors felt like the gates of a prison. The last time I was here, I had run through those doors with my breath catching in my lungs, fleeing. Now, I was willingly walking back in. Emeric pushed the heavy wood open, the hinges groaning, and guided me inside with a sharp tilt of his chin.
The halls were full of memories. Nothing had changed. The air was lighter here, carrying that faint, haunting scent of lavender that had always lived in the curtains.
We climbed the stairs to the second floor, our footsteps echoing too loudly on the polished floor. At the end of the right hallway, we paused in front of a heavy oak door. Emeric turned the handle and shoved it open.
"This is your room." His voice carried a jagged edge of annoyance.
"I know you don't want me here," I said quietly, the words feeling small in the vast hallway.
He sheathed the greatsword on his back with a metallic shink and leaned in close. A crooked, dangerous smile curled his lips. "I am glad you know. It's better if you remember that." He gestured into the room. "Now. Inside."
I took a breath, making each step deliberate as I crossed the threshold into the room.
"And Alanah?"
I paused, turning back.
"You are free to wash up."
I tilted my head, my brows creasing in suspicion. "Thank you." The words were sharper than I intended, coming out like a challenge.
He leaned against the doorframe, his shadow stretching across the floor to touch my boots. "Once Mikaeus is back," he said, his voice turning cold, "I expect answers."
My hand curled into a fist. "I told you already. I will gladly share everything."
His lips curled slowly, a dark shadow crossing his face. He bent his head, bringing his face inches from mine, testing my resolve. I planted my feet, refusing to tear my gaze away.
"I do not give second chances," he whispered, the threat vibrating in the small space between us.
He leaned back, his eyes flicking down to my mouth for a fraction of a second. I raised my hand, pressing my fingers against my lip. A sticky warmth met my touch. I pulled my hand away—fresh blood. I must have bitten through the skin in the chaos of the beach.
"One wrong move," he repeated.
He stepped back into the hall, his presence leaving a vacuum in the air.
"You don't need to worry," I replied, forcing my voice to remain steady even as my pulse thundered.
"Hmm. We shall see," he mumbled.
He took another stride back, and then, without a word, he slammed the door in my face. The force of the wind hit me, making me jump.
I sighed heavily, the sound turning into a shudder as I dragged my feet toward the bathroom. Will he even believe me? The secrets I held sounded like the ravings of a madwoman. I shook the doubt away. Emeric’s opinion was a nuisance—only Mikaeus mattered.
I closed the bathroom door, finally shutting out the world. My bow and quiver found their place against the wall as I stripped away my clothes, peeling back the layers of filth.
I twisted the brass tap. The plumbing protested with a deep, metallic gurgle and a hiss, followed by a rhythmic thumping in the walls that felt like a heartbeat. Finally, the water came. I let it run until the tub was half full, a chilling mist rising in ghostly swirls.
When I dipped my hand in, the water wasn't warm. It was bitingly cold. A shiver racked my ribs causing a gasp to escape my lips. I gritted my teeth and climbed in, my body seizing as the icy water swallowed me whole.
Make it fast.
I attacked my hair, scrubbing at the muddy dye, desperate to reveal the truth hidden beneath the grime. Dark streaks swirled in the water. White strands began to peek through, bright and defiant. I scrubbed harder, my scalp stinging. I would scrub until the hair was stark white. I would scrub until I washed away the Vow. Until I washed away the lingering scent of smoke and my own foolishness.
I stood up, the dark, ruined water dripping off me like shed skin. I snatched a large drying cloth and wrapped it tight, the friction bringing blood back to my numbed skin.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the fogged mirror. I stepped closer, my palm pressing flat against the cool glass to clear a circle. Crimson eyes stared back at me, burning with a light that hadn't been there before. The stark white of my hair caught the flickering light, crowning me in silver.
I was not the same person they knew.
I needed them, and they needed me. But I would not be a pawn. I would not be a ghost in my own life. I refuse.
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- Writer
