⋆˖☽ Chapter 7 ☾˖⋆
3567 Words
The morning wind rattled the windowpanes and shivered through the stone walls, a restless, hollow sound that mirrored the ache in my chest. I eased out of bed, stifling a groan as I stretched. A sharp, localized heat flared in my ribs—bone knitting back to bone, but not fast enough.
I moved to the glass, the cold radiating against my skin. Below, the town was stirring, though the scars of the night remained open and raw. The smoke had finally cleared, leaving behind the charred skeleton of a house that looked like a black tooth in a broken jaw. Beyond the village, the ocean was a churning, angry slate-gray, empty of ships or hope. The trees on the cliffside whipped frantically in the gale, yet amidst the chaos, a flash of green caught my eye. A dragon—emerald scales bright against the drab rock—leaped playfully along the paths, oblivious to the simmering gloom.
A light knock snapped my attention away from the window. I spun around, the door creaking open to reveal Mira.
Her jet-black hair, usually loose or messy, was pulled into a high, severe ponytail that pulled the skin of her face taut. The soft, forgiving linen of her uniform had been replaced by hardened leather armor that creaked softly as she moved. The lethal glint of daggers hugged both her thighs.
"Good morning, Alanah," she said. Her voice was dry parchment. Her eyes swept over me, lingering on the borrowed clothing. "I will find you something else. Those clothes are far too large."
"Ah... th-thank you," I stammered, clutching the excess fabric at my waist. "It was all I could find."
She gave a curt nod, her expression unreadable. "Mikaeus wants to see you. Follow me."
I fell into step beside her, our footfalls light against the polished white stone of the corridor. The silence between us felt heavy, charged with the static of things unsaid.
"Mira?"
"Hmm?" She tilted her head slightly, but her gaze remained fixed forward, scanning the hall.
"Are you... actually a maid here?"
"No," she said, not missing a beat. "I never have been. I was simply following Mikaeus's request."
"What did he ask of you?"
Her head snapped toward me, eyes sharp, before she looked away just as quickly. She didn't answer. The silence returned, thicker than before, as we navigated the winding halls until she stopped before a set of towering, ornate doors.
"I leave you here. You may enter the study." Her muscles tightened as she turned to depart, leaving me alone in the vast, echoing hallway where the air smelled of beeswax and old secrets.
I hovered my hand just inches from the hard, polished wood. Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady the frantic rhythm of my heart. Muffled voices drifted from within—one of them familiar, though the words were lost to the heavy timber. I knocked, but no answer came. Taking a breath that tasted of dust, I pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.
Mikaeus sat behind his heavy desk, his expression a mask of practiced calm, though his knuckles were white.
"Enough!" Mikaeus slammed a palm onto a stack of parchment, sending a cloud of dust into the air. "I won't have this, Emeric. Not today."
"Then when?" Emeric leaned further over the desk, invading Mikaeus’s space, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss. "Why? Why are you allowing her back here? This… this fixation you have for her. It isn't like you, Mikaeus. She should be locked up, then questioned."
I stood in the shadow of the doorway, the oversized tunic heavy on my shoulders. I am right here. You could simply question me.
"Emeric, I have my reasons." The shadows under Mikaeus's eyes were deep, purple bruises in the morning light.
"No." Emeric pressed a hand to his chest, his voice cracking with a sudden, raw vulnerability that made me flinch. "You tell me everything. We don't have secrets. Why not—"
"Because this time is different."
I stepped fully into the room and pressed my back against the heavy wood. I pushed until the latch caught.
Click.
The sharp sound severed the argument instantly.
Mikaeus’s gaze snapped toward me, his eyes widening a fraction. Emeric spun around, his mouth still half-open, the vulnerability vanishing instantly behind a wall of cold suspicion.
"My answer will not change," Mikaeus murmured, his voice carrying across the quiet room, though his eyes never left mine. "At least… not yet."
Mikaeus stood abruptly, his chair scraping violently against the stone floor. "Please, come in," he said, gesturing toward a high-backed chair upholstered in velvet.
Emeric spun around to face me. His eyes narrowed, scanning me with a sharp, piercing intensity that felt like a blade dragged across skin. He let out a soft, jagged sigh and pushed off from the desk, retreating to the far wall. He crossed his arms and braced one leg against the stone, pointedly looking away, though his entire posture remained stiff with resentment.
I moved to the seat, feeling the crushing weight of their silence. As I sat, Mikaeus offered a warm, albeit awkward smile. He settled back into his own chair, straightening his tunic and clearing his throat as if trying to physically brush away the tension Emeric had left behind.
I straightened my spine, ignoring the flare of pain in my ribs, and locked my eyes onto Mikaeus’s. Emeric’s earlier questions echoed in my mind, cold and accusing. "Why do you want me here so badly?"
Mikaeus c****d his head, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. Beside him, Emeric’s head snapped toward me, his chin tilting down. "We agreed you would be the one providing answers," he bit out. "Starting with why you crawled your way back here. And where is that traitor, Celia?"
My gaze dropped to the floor. My fingers dug into the rough fabric of my trousers, and I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper.
"Emeric, please," Mikaeus said, his voice a soft warning.
"I want answers, and she needs to give them!"
I swallowed hard, a lump in my throat forming. "Celia... she was part of the Vow."
"We knew that much," Emeric snapped, his lip curling. "I’m sure she’d try to slink back here too, if we were foolish enough to allow it."
"She’s dead."
The words came out broken, brittle as dry bone.
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room. My stomach sank as the finality of the statement hung in the air, sucking the oxygen out of the space. Mikaeus shifted a stack of papers on his desk; the dry rustle sounded like thunder.
"Where were you, Alanah?" Mikaeus asked softly. He paused, his gaze softening, peeling back the layers of authority. "We looked everywhere for you."
Emeric scoffed. "Not by choice."
I shoved the memory of the kill from my mind. "The Underkeep." I finally lifted my head, meeting Mikaeus’s golden eyes. He studied me with clinical, yet genuine concern. "It’s a place where they... train certain Vow members."
"Do you know where the others are?" Mikaeus pressed gently, leaning forward.
"Like she would ever tell us," Emeric interjected.
I shot a sharp glare at Emeric, my temper finally flaring through the grief. "No, I don't. But the ones they train—the ones they force to join their fight—they are kept there. And before you ask," I added, anticipating the sneer on Emeric's face, "I don't know the exact location. Only roughly where it lies."
"You spent weeks there and you can't point to it on a map?" Emeric challenged, pushing off the wall.
"I was blindfolded. Every time I was moved, my eyes were covered."
"Isn’t that convenient?" He stalked toward me, his boots heavy on the stone.
Mikaeus surged out of his chair, his hand instinctively pressing to his chest as if to steady his own heart. "Calm down! This helps nothing."
"Did you recently have a black-scaled dragon return to you?" I asked, my voice rising to cut through the bickering. "One that was battered and broken?"
Emeric pointed an accusing finger. "See? More questions. She’s only here for that dragon."
"Emeric, if you cannot control yourself, you will leave," Mikaeus commanded. His voice rang with a newfound authority that vibrated against the walls.
"Fine," Emeric spat. He turned on his heel, retreating to the wall and leaning against it with his jaw set, eyes burning holes into the floor.
Mikaeus turned back to me, his expression earnest. "I told you before, Alanah—I believe in trust."
I fought the urge to let out a bitter scoff. Trust? I stayed silent; the news of the dragon was more important.
"Yes," Mikaeus said, his voice dropping an octave. "We did. About a week ago."
My muscles finally went slack, the sudden release of tension making me feel lightheaded. "Aurenoxious," I whispered to myself. I closed my eyes, a single thought echoing in my mind: He made it, Ondina.
But the relief was short-lived. My eyes snapped open, sharp and cold. "The Vow... they captured him."
Mikaeus blinked, taken aback, while Emeric leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in a mocking squint. "Oh? You aren't calling them monsters anymore?"
"They aren't monsters," I said, my voice steadying into something hard. "But the Vow is collecting monsters."
"What do you mean, Alanah?"
"They are in the Underkeep. All of them."
Mikaeus began to pace, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone. He pressed his hand against his lips, his thumb digging into his chin in deep thought.
"They release them when the Cursed Moon rises," I continued, my voice trembling slightly as the memory of the cages surfaced. "The Vow unleashes the horror, and then they swoop in like saviors to 'rescue' the survivors. It’s how they win the people's hearts. It’s how they grow."
"I’m not surprised," Emeric chipped in, though his arrogant tone had faltered. He c****d his head, his gaze piercing. "But that still doesn’t explain how you’re standing here now."
"I escaped. And I knew you were the only ones who could help me."
"Help you with what, exactly?" Emeric pushed, taking a step toward me.
I stood from my chair, my height matching his intensity. "Stopping the Vow. Before they destroy everything, we destroy them."
Emeric’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a complicated mix of respect and doubt. Mikaeus stopped pacing and turned to face me, the golden hue of his eyes dimming with a somber shadow.
"But before that," I said, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders. I didn't let him speak. I didn't let him look away. "I want answers, Mikaeus. Why did you kidnap me? Why did you bring me here last time?"
Mikaeus inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a long moment before releasing it. The exhale sounded loud in the sudden quiet.
"Very well." His gaze shifted away from me, fixing on the man beside him. "Emeric, please step out."
"What?" Emeric blinked, the word sharp with disbelief.
"Emeric, that is a command."
Emeric shook his head, a scoff catching in his throat. "A command?" His jaw worked, the muscle jumping beneath the skin. His hand drifted toward his belt before curling into a tight fist. His head whipped toward me, "Fine."
Each step he took toward the door radiated rage, his boots striking the floor with heavy, deliberate thuds. He swung the door open without looking back and shut it with a sharp, final click.
Silence rushed in to fill the void he left. The atmosphere in the room settled like a damp blanket, smothering the electric charge of the argument. My muscles finally unlocked, and I sank back into the chair, it creaking beneath me.
Mikaeus stood frozen. Slowly, the tension bled from his frame. He ran a hand through his red hair, letting the strands fall back into place, looking suddenly older than his years.
"I do not know what transpired while you were away, but I believe that you have changed." His eyes met mine. The familiar weariness had returned, but beneath it lay a deep, anchoring sincerity. "I believe you can accept the truth."
"If only you had been honest from the start."
He moved to lean against the front of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "You truly couldn't have handled it."
"Maybe you are right. But you could have been wrong, as well."
He looked away, studying the floor. "Yes. I suppose that is a possibility now, isn't it?"
"The truth, Mikaeus."
He shifted, setting his hands on the desk behind him. "The first time we saw you, I was made aware of how different you are." He paused, "but it was never because of your strength as a huntress, or your resilience."
"What do you mean?"
"Alanah, you were consumed by a state of rage. A burning hatred towards dragons."
"I know."
"It goes far beyond human understanding. It is something..." His gaze dropped. "Something that others would not accept or believe."
Does this involve Enkarthos? The name echoed in the cavern of my mind, but I pushed it down. I couldn't share everything with him.
"I will make that decision for myself," I said, keeping my voice steady, though my pulse thrummed against my ribs. "I asked for the truth."
His gaze lifted, locking onto mine again. "You're special, Alanah. There isn't a single human like you."
"Yes, you said that already."
"Your soul..." He hesitated, searching for the right words, or perhaps the kindest ones. "It is not entirely your own. It is intermingled with another's."
He pressed his palms flat against the oak, leaning his full weight forward. "Enkarthos."
The name hung in the air, barely audible yet heavier than stone.
"What does that mean?" I tilted my head, feigning ignorance even as my heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my sternum.
His voice in my head was one thing; the visions overtaking my sight were another. My fingers picked nervously at the fabric of my trousers. But the soul?
I looked at him, fear seeping into my tone. "Will it... will it change me?"
"I... I do not believe so."
"But you are unsure?"
"There is one other thing."
"Hmm?"
"Your bond with Enkarthos. It seems to have faded."
My eyes widened. The silence inside me suddenly felt vast and terrifying. The realization hit like a physical blow to the chest—a hollowness where a presence used to be. It wasn't him ignoring me. The thought tasted bitter, like ash, and a tremble worked its way into my hands. Is he okay?
"Is he..." I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to remain steady through the constriction in my throat. "Are we okay?"
The lines around his eyes deepened, a shadow of pity passing over his face. "Everything will be just fine, but that is part of the reason we could not find you. It faded—Enkarthos's call to Zarina."
Will it be? I watched him closely. He seemed to be dancing around the edges of the wound rather than treating it.
"I am more surprised at how well you are taking this," he observed. "Especially for someone who made it their mission to kill dragons."
Heat crept up my neck, and my eyes darted to the floor. "I am sorry. I already told you I do not believe that anymore."
I know the truth now. All of it.
I paused, closing my eyes to center myself, inhaling the scent of old paper and stone. When I opened them, I met his look with an unwavering gaze. "That still doesn't explain to me why you used Dream Leaf."
His heavy sigh filled the room. "I had no choice."
"By the Moons. No choice? That is the answer you have always given me." I leaned closer, my voice rising, sharp enough to cut. "You always have a choice."
He shook his head slowly. "Not always. It wasn't my decision."
"Then whose was it?" I pressed. "You are the leader."
"No. There are two leaders."
"Two?"
"Myself...and Zarina. We walk in harmony with dragons," he said, holding my gaze with intensity. "Zarina said that we needed you."
"So she told you to kidnap me? She gave the command?" My voice broke on the final word.
"No. No, she did not. That was my decision alone." He looked down at his hands, as if seeing blood on them. "I did what I saw best at the time. A regret that I will now continue to carry."
"Wait." I held up a hand. "You said 'Zarina said'..." I narrowed my eyes. "How do you know that is what she wanted?"
"That..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I..." His expression twisted, pained, fighting the urge to keep the secret buried deep where it belonged. Finally, his resolve settled, and his shoulders squared.
When he spoke, his voice was hushed, reverent. "I am a descendant of the Aurelian family. We are the heads of Luminethra. It is always our family—a blessing from Zarina herself, passed down through blood. I can speak with all dragons."
A heavy, expansive silence followed his confession. The room suddenly felt smaller, the weight of history pressing in on us.
It makes sense, I admitted to myself. Especially after my own experience with Enkarthos. But still... the magnitude of it was staggering.
"I do not know what to say," I murmured. "Why share this with me?"
"You asked for the truth... and I am giving it to you. Even if that means sharing my family's deepest secret. Zarina... she trusts you as well."
"Even after everything I have done?" My fingers dug into my palm. "Do the others know this?"
"No, not everyone. Only a select few whom I trust." He slid off the desk to stand directly in front of me. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were a storm of mixed emotions—hope, fear, and exhaustion. "I need you to trust me this time." He searched my face. "You came back, which means you trust me to an extent. For that, I am grateful."
Do I trust him fully? I bit my lip. I refused to share everything. Some things were not for him; some burdens were mine alone. My gaze fell to the floor to hide the thought.
He bent his knees slightly, leaning in to catch my eye. "I know it will take time. I just want you to remember that I am here when you need me. We will figure everything out together."
My stomach turned. I wanted to scoff, to push the sentiment away, but his words hooked into something soft behind my ribs. This blind faith... this trust. I wondered, will this be his downfall?
"You are free to roam these walls," he added softly. "As well as the town."
My eyes widened in shock.
"Aren't you afraid I will leave again?"
His jaw tightened—a flash of irritation that vanished as quickly as it came. "That is your choice. I understand I cannot control you. But I must add one thing." His gaze hardened. "Do not allow my faith in you to break. This... this is the last time I can give it. The people of Luminethra are my priority."
"I won't." My voice was firm, my hand curling into a fist at my side. I need him, I realized with sudden clarity. I need all of them if I am going to save Ondina.
"Will you help me to destroy the vow?" Rage began to well under the surface. The image of Ruslan seared through my mind, burning bright.
"Yes. But you need to heal first. You are still injured."
"When did—"
"Your breath hitches shallowly, and you favor your left side when you shift your weight."
Have I not hidden it well enough?
"Now, not to cut you short, but I do have things I must attend to after yesterday's events."
"I understand."
He stepped back, returning to the high-backed chair at his desk. I pushed myself to my feet, fighting the ache in my body.
"Thank you, Alanah," he whispered, the words barely audible.
I didn't reply. I simply made my way to the door and pulled it open.
Emeric was there, leaning against the wall like a coiled Glimcoil. His head turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine.
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- Writer
