The Day I Turned To Stone

Chapter 4

"Faster, sissy! Faster!" A small voice rang out, bright with laughter—an echo from a life I'd almost forgotten. Tiny hands clutched at my neck, a small body pressed against my back, trusting me completely. I ran faster through the garden paths, past the marble fountain, our laughter chasing itself through the cool spring air. The scent of damp earth and blossoms clung to us like a fine mist, wrapping the moment in something pure and fleeting.

We tumbled into the grass, breathless and covered in petals, his laughter breaking into hiccups. "You're the fastest ever," he declared between gasps, clutching my sleeve as if the world might steal me away. I remember the sunlight on his hair, the warmth of his small hand in mine—

and then nothing.

Just that final smile, trapped in time.

My body stiffened under the weight on my back. The scent of flowers was gone, replaced by the acrid tang of smoke and stone dust. The laughter faded, swallowed by the wind.

The form on my back shifted, murmuring something half-asleep, her arms wrapped loosely around my neck. For a moment, I couldn't breathe—not from her weight, but from the ghost of another pair of arms that would never hold me again.

Without warning, I sank to my knees. The earth met me with a dull thud, cold and unyielding. Grief tore through me—so old it should have been dust by now. It poured out before I could stop it, bleeding into the air like a storm breaking open.

Melantha stirred against my back. "Garvel?" Her voice trembled, unsure. Then, softly—a sob.

I wasn't entirely sure why she was crying, but I could feel her tears on my shoulder all the same.

I clenched my fists into the dirt, trying to cage the ache that had slipped free. It wasn't fair—she shouldn't have to feel this. But sorrow has weight, and it reached beyond me, threading through her small, fragile heart as if it had been waiting for someone to share the burden.

Sorry, I rasped, though I wasn't sure who I was apologizing to—her, or the ghost of the boy I'd left behind.

She slowly clambered down from my back and walked around to face me. I couldn't bring myself to look at her, but when her small hands found my stone face, I felt a warmth I didn't know I needed. I wished, in that moment, I had the ability to cry—to let the emotion drain from me instead of festering beneath the surface.

"Garvel..." she cooed softly, drawing my gaze despite myself.

The sight before me was shocking. The normally spirited girl—so full of chatter and mischief—stood trembling, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. Her eyes glowed faintly, reflecting my own grief like a mirror catching firelight. Each tear that fell struck me harder than any blade could.

"I don't know why," she whispered, voice breaking. "But it hurts... it hurts so much."

Something inside me cracked then—not stone, not flesh, but the hollow space where my heart used to be. I lifted one heavy hand, brushing my fingers against her wet cheek. The warmth of her skin lingered there, delicate and alive.

I'm so sorry... I just... remembered something.

She tilted her head curiously, one small hand rising to wipe the tears from her rosy cheeks. "Tell me," she said—not an order, but an opening, a quiet permission.

I took a long moment to steady myself, the words catching like shards in my throat before I finally projected the thought to her.

I had a brother.

The air between us trembled. Emotion surged through me, wild and unfiltered, and I felt it pour into her before I could stop it. Tears welled in her eyes again—hot, unrestrained—but she didn't flinch this time. She just let them fall, as if by shedding them she could grant me what I could no longer do.

Why had I forgotten him? The thought tore through the silence like a prayer left unanswered.

Melantha reached out, resting her hand over my chest where my heart once beat.

"Maybe you didn't forget," she whispered. "Maybe you just buried it so deep it had to break free to be found again."

Her words echoed in me, a strange comfort threading through the ache. For the first time in what felt like centuries, the weight of my grief didn't feel like something I had to bear alone.

"Tell me about him."

The words struck something deep, a place I hadn't dared touch in ages. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. The images came slow—blurred, fragile things clawing their way up from the dark.

He was smaller than me, I began, my voice trembling in her mind. Always chasing after me, always laughing. He had this ridiculous mop of brown hair that never stayed flat, no matter how Mother tried.

A faint smile tugged at my mind, unbidden. He loved the garden—the smell of lilac, the way the bees would dance around him like he was part of their swarm. Said he'd grow wings one day and fly above the fountain to see if heaven really had gold light.

Melantha listened quietly, her hand never leaving my chest. The tears on her cheeks glimmered in the dim light, but her eyes—steady and knowing—held mine with an understanding far older than she should've had.

The memory blurred. I pressed a hand against the ground, steadying myself as if the weight of it might drag me under. He was so full of life... and then one day—he wasn't. I can't even remember how it happened. One moment he was there, and the next, it was like the world had swallowed him whole.

Melantha's breath caught. Tears pooled again in her eyes, though she said nothing at first. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "He sounds like he loved you very much."

I looked at her then, really looked. The softness in her face, the fragile empathy shining through the tears—it was almost unbearable.

Maybe he did, I thought, lowering my head. And maybe I loved him too much to let him go, even now.

Her thumb brushed against my cheek again, gentle as a falling petal.

"Then don't," she murmured. "Remember him instead."

I nodded slowly. The pain didn't dull—it cut just as sharply as it had when I was alive, when I first lost him. I looked at Melantha and lowered myself further, the weight of memory heavier than my own body.

I want to sleep.

The words surprised us both. Melantha froze for a moment before nodding, her eyes glimmering with something I couldn't name. She ran one small hand down my stony cheek, the other still pressed gently against my chest.

"Sehl," she whispered.

That single word hummed through me—soft, ancient, and merciful. The last thing I felt was her warmth seeping into the cracks of my being before my body gave way, stone collapsing into stillness. My consciousness drifted into the dark once more—weightless, quiet, and, at last, unafraid.

—

When I opened my eyes again, the sunlight had shifted. The garden was quiet now, the scent of damp earth replaced by the faint tang of smoke curling from somewhere nearby. Something felt... off.

I jolted upright as my form ground itself together with the harsh scrape of stone against stone. Spinning toward the edge of Melantha's territory, horror froze me in place: hundreds of knights filled the area. Four had me surrounded, spears raised, though I knew full well they could do nothing to pierce my stone skin.

As I towered over them, I could see the tremble in their hands—and the fear that no armor could hide.

Melantha! My mind shrieked, mental tendrils spreading outward as far as I could reach, searching desperately until I found hers.

I'm fine, Garvel. Came her response—but the words sounded uncertain, fragile, like a candle struggling against the wind.

My purple eyes flashed bright red with rage. I swung an arm upward, bringing it down into the soft earth, and it imploded inward with a deafening c***k. The knights staggered, toppling from their positions, and I seized the moment to sprint toward Melantha's hovel as fast as my massive weight would allow.

By the time I reached the edge of her hovel, I could hear her voice cutting through the air, sharp but strained, even as the commander loomed over her.

"You killed their priest!" he hissed, the words slicing through the tense morning air. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"He was going to s*******r innocent people," Melantha shot back, her hands trembling slightly but her voice steady. "I did what I had to!"

The commander's armored gauntlet clenched. "You've made enemies of them all... of us all. Do you understand that? Their vengeance will not wait."

I slowed my approach, keeping my massive form just out of sight. My purple eyes glowed faintly with rage. She was holding her ground, but I could feel the tension coiling around her like a living thing. Any sudden move now, and the situation could spiral out of control.

The commander's eyes flicked briefly toward the shadows at the edge of the hovel. Something moved—too large to be human. His brow furrowed, a shadow of suspicion crossing his face as he noticed me.

"Wait... do you intend to bring him into this?" he demanded, voice low but sharp. "Is this... is this another blade waiting in the dark?"

Melantha's eyes darted in my direction, just enough for me to catch the faintest shimmer of acknowledgment. Her fingers twitched, poised but restrained, as if holding back a storm she knew would break the world apart.

"I am not afraid of consequences," she said evenly, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I'll do whatever it takes to end this threat."

I tightened my stance, the ground beneath my feet quivering slightly as I considered my next move. One wrong step, one careless motion from any of them, and the commander might realize exactly how dangerous I really was.

Melantha sighed and waved her hand dismissively. "She will not hurt you as long as you promise the same for me."

The commander's gaze narrowed, shifting uneasily toward the shadows where I crouched, my massive form blending with the edge of the hovel.

"...You expect me to take your word for that?" His voice was tense, edged with suspicion. "And if she... acts against me?"

Melantha's lips curved faintly, dismissive but cold. She waved a hand, as though brushing away his doubt.

"She will do what I command of her. Nothing more. Nothing less. So it all depends on you, Commander."

I felt the subtle pulse of her magic ripple toward me—an anchor, a signal, a challenge all at once. My eyes glowed a deep red, and the commander flinched, realizing for the first time that something far beyond human power was near, something that could tear his world apart in an instant.

I took a deliberate step forward, revealing my full, massive form, though I kept my stance defensive. My voice rumbled like stone grinding against stone.

I will not hurt you... unless you hurt her.

[Skill Tele-Speech activated.]

A chime echoed softly in my mind, and I caught my own gasp at the sound. I had no idea it could be used on anyone. The commander whipped around, eyes wide, disbelief written across his face.

"It... it can speak!?" he stammered, his voice cracking with shock and a flicker of fear.

I let my gaze sweep over him, calm but unyielding, every inch of my massive frame a warning. Melantha's pulse throbbed in my mind, steady yet tense, and I knew she was counting on me to hold this line.

"Well of course. This Garvel. She is my familiar."

The commander's lips thinned. "Keep your—familiar—quiet. I'm not here for your head today." He spat the last word like it tasted of iron. "But your strike against the priest broke alliances. Lead us to their lairs and end the raids, and perhaps we'll spare you immediate retribution. Attempt anything else"—his hand brushed the pommel of his sword—"and you'll learn what we do to traitors."

Melantha's jaw tightened. "We will lead you. Civilians will be spared. No executions."

He smiled without warmth. "Fine. We march at dusk. Try anything, and you won't see dawn."

His threat hung in the air; the truce felt like a noose.

It was the sigil that caught my eye first—the swirling axolotl etched into the back of his cloaked armor. My gaze swept over the army milling across Melantha's property. She wouldn't be pleased to see so many people, supposedly enemies, wandering so leisurely.

Then my eyes fixed on one soldier in particular. His crooked tooth gleamed in the sunlight, a small but unmistakable detail in the sea of humans.

Benji.

The name struck me like a jolt of lightning, pulling a sharp memory to the surface. His head jerked up, eyes wide, as my voice pierced his mind, carrying across the distance between us.