“I’m with you, Stoney,” Birdie said.
So much of Ravki was like walking through a dream. The clouds were perfectly puffed and white. The sun was warm but not sweltering. The trees swayed, their green leaves sparkling. The water trickled down the rockfaces, landing in pools of vibrant blues.
There were more ruins than the ones they saw yesterday. Several were smaller, but just as crumbling with vines coiling through the cracks. A few had fallen completely, leaving nothing but piles of rubble.
It was easy to see how the city was laid out before. The main ruins were likely similar to the Citadel, the smaller ruins, where civilians lived. It was a painful dichotomy, seeing the beautiful skies and trees next to collapsed buildings that once housed life. People. But that was war. It was life and it was death and whatever happened to Ravki, it was clear now, it was not a natural extinction.
Aesira and Bee walked for what felt like hours. Through meadows, careful not to disturb the sleepingastra, around the ruins, up and over several hills. Everything seemed untouched. No trails or recent tracks. No sign of life, outside of them.
No signs of Desmond.
Her mind bounced between the Strix and the Dreamweavers. Maybe Stone was right, maybe there was a chance Desmond never made it this far. Defeat threatened to swallow Aesira whole, casting her body and mind in a blanket of darkness, when Bee shouted, startling a flock of bright orange birds from a nearby tree.
“Commander! I found something!”
Aesira trotted ahead and met Bee under a massive tree, its branches jutting out in all directions, its leaves large enough to cover her face.
“What?” Aesira followed the line of Bee’s finger as she pointed under the expansive tree. Remnants of a camp lay scattered under its wide branches. Old canteens, a ratty blanket, a broken compass. “These are Vargahian steel.” Aesira ran her finger along the hilt of one of the blades. It was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, but the steel she recognized from the weapons room in Vargah. A deep ‘V’ was engraved right in the center.
Bee picked up another similar blade. “Not Ravkian?”
“No.” Aesira pointed to the engraving, despite its age, was clear as day. “These weapons are from Vargah.”
“Desmond?”
Aesira pocketed the knife and riffled through the rest of the camp. There was no recent fire or food. The maps were worn and illegible, most of them torn through with age or weather. Even theweapons, including the pocket knives, were dated. “No knight or soldier would carry a weapon like this anymore.”
Bee picked up the blanket, sniffed it once, then tossed it back down. “Maybe it’s all Desmond could find.”
“The king couldn’t sport better survival tools?” Aesira shook her head. “Whoever these belonged to, they’ve been here for a long time.”
Bee’s eyes went wide, realization playing across her round face. “Like how long?”
Aesira pulled out the small knife again. The ornate handle was carved, intricate moons and stars etched around the entire hilt. Weapons were not made with so many details, anymore. Artistry had been lost by way of convenience. This was not a new knife, not by years.
“Decades, at least.” Something sour spun in her gut. The breeze had stopped and the stillness of the trees and the old abandoned camp now seemed an omen of a different kind. “I don’t get it,” Aesira said. “How could there have been Vargahian soldiers stationed here?” She handed Bee the canteen.
“Beats me,” she said before taking a slow drink. “You’re sure the king didn’t just swipe some old shit from the armory? Maybe he didn’t want anyone to notice anything missing.”
“Maybe…” Aesira bit the tip of her thumb, glancing around the camp again. It didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t just the weapons that were dated, it waseverything. The maps. The discarded uniform. The compass.
“Or maybe Vargah has been here before.” Bee glanced around. “Maybe they’re watching us right now.” Aesira’s lungs froze and the fear must have shown on her face because Bee laughed. “I’mkidding, Commander. If anyone from Vargah had been here recently, this place would have been run dry.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Theastra,” Bee said. “Once the word gets out it’s here, it’ll be a fucking bloodbath.”
“And who do you plan to tell?” Aesira straightened, tossing the canteen to the ground. “Because Stone and I decided it was best to keep theastraa secret.”
“Of course,” she said. “We won’t tell a soul. Let’s walk, I need some air.”
“You’re outside, Bee.” It was no use, Bee trudged ahead, a new determination in her steps.
“First Birdie is pissed at me because I told her we couldn’t look in the tunnels.” She stomped forward, her boots crushing a cluster of tiny yellow flowers. “Now, you and Stone are making decisions without us? Seems as though our rules mean nothing anymore.”
Aesira froze. “What?”
Bee turned to her and what Aesira thought was anger before she realized was maybe more akin to hurt. “I said our rules mean nothing.”
