She apologized to the mounded dirt for how long she had taken, for not being there when it had happened though she had no idea what she could have done, and for what a failure she had turned out to be. In the silence that came after, a chickadee sang. Its call rose into the still air, and Celeste listened for its mate’s answer, but none came.
Sniffling as she traipsed mud back into the temple over her clean floors, Celeste shook off the lingering noxscura from her limbs, and a shadow flashed through the main chamber overhead. She’d caught the tail ends of darting shadows all week, but this one was different. This one fluttered.
“Hello?” she called, her voice raw as it echoed into the rafters.
Amongst the dried out thorns and the crossing beams, a tiny head peaked out, and a croaky call answered. The head craned down on a long neck, and then wings unfurled as the wyvern took to the air. Celeste stuck out her arms as it dove for her recklessly, the fastest she’d ever seen any of the miniature ones move, and then with one hard flap, it slowed just enough to land talons-first in her hands.
The wyvern croaked again, and Celeste sniffled back. He was only as big as a squirrel but with none of the fluff, all sinewy limbs and thin skin pulled taut over bony wings.
“Where were you hiding?” she asked, bringing him close to look over for injury.
He had no wounds, silvery horns still intact and talons sharp, though he was a little too skinny, but then the same was often said of Celeste. His long tail wrapped around her wrist, and his knobby fingers gripped her thumb tightly. Wyverns were smart enough to follow commands, and Delphine’s sharp tone kept most of them in line, but there were always the odd few who didn’t work well with the others and were assigned solo tasks like delivering messages. Perhaps this one had been away when the fray that had decimated its brothers and sisters occurred.
“Are you the only one left?”
Cocking his head like a bird, she knew he could almost understand.
“Yeah, me too,” she whispered, scratching under his chin. “I bet you’re hungry, huh?”
At that, he croaked like his little brain could perfectly translate Key.
Celeste deposited the wyvern on the sofa and offered up the last piece of fruit from her pack. The creature took it in his winged arms and rolled onto his back, glomming on with all four limbs and his tail to munch away. Juice and flesh spattered all over like organs from a rent belly. “Oh, you’re cute, aren’t you?”
A garbled screech answered in what she assumed was the affirmative.
Delphine had discouraged naming the wyverns save for Tempest, but Celeste couldn’t help but note how this one and the fruit’s skin were nearly identical in color. “I think I’ll call you Plum,” she said, and he seemed agreeable enough, chirping between swallows.
With the last of her food gobbled up, Celeste squinted at the broken windows overhead. There was still enough daylight to make it into town for a meal, but she looked absolutely dreadful covered in dirt and sweat. Thankfully, Valcord’s followers allowed themselves the small decadence of rather nice bathing chambers, and she’d only accidentally blown up the smallest, so there were two rather fancy ones left. The one at the head of the acolyte’s hall was generous with a big tub that could arcanely be filled with hot water, and Celeste made quick work of scrubbing off the effort of the day.
Delphine hadn’t gotten rid of Celeste’s things despite always sniping about them being childish and frivolous. She was pleased to find the wardrobe in her old, private chamber still stuffed with pastel linen dresses and donned one of her favorites. Then she spent a little too long deciding whether she should tie her hair up or leave it down—one choice elongated her already too-tall form and the other invited comparisons to a drowned corpse. She finally split the difference and pulled back half of it with a ribbon, collected some coins from the sepulcher, and after dawdling until her stomach ached with hunger, marched herself through the gates and to the path into town.
Celeste hadn’t ever been allowed to visit Briarwyke during the years she occupied the temple with her sister. It was easier to keep the villagers away if they thought the temple was simply cursed. Delphine hired wanderers to do the most mundane tasks like gathering supplies, replacing them when she felt they’d worn out their usefulness. This had been mostly fine with Celeste though, knowing she wasn’t particularly good with…well, not with much at all, but especially not with people.
She’d found her way to the temple a week prior by sticking to the town’s outskirts and trekking through the woods, but if she wanted supplies, she’d have to take the main road southward. It wasn’t disused, but that only meant she might meet someone on it. The thought of running into a villager overtook the hunger in her belly, twisting itself into nausea.
Maybe she could take up foraging or hunting instead? Though learning how to string a bow would have been helpfulbeforeshe ran out of food, it might still be easier than convincing the locals she belonged. Despite her efforts, it hadn’t worked in Clarriseau, and she really did belong there considering it was where she was born. But the only person on the island who had ever come close to liking her was her elderly downstairs neighbor, and he decidedly didnot.
But she couldn’t hesitate much longer with the sun setting, so instead of turning tail and risking her life on whatever berries she might come across, she continued on and quietly practiced introductions under her breath so she wouldn’t stutter out the worst possible thing to whomever she came across first.
“Are you here to avenge your sister?”
Celeste saw the flitting shadow half an instant before she heard the voice, but it was not enough time to keep from yelping in surprise.
A woman stood ten paces ahead on the roadway, black trousers and black, sleeveless tunic covered in dagger-filled holsters. “Your sister,” she repeated, eyes unblinking from under a pinched, impatient brow. “You’re here to avenge her?”
“My sis—how do you, I mean…huh?” Well, that wasn’t how she meant to introduce herself at all.
“Don’t play dumb. The woman who used to haunt that old temple was cut down, and now you’ve shown up looking just like her.” She gave her a cursory glance up and down. “Sort of.”
Celeste clasped her hands and pressed her lips together. She did look like Delphine. Sort of. They shared the same silver eyes of a nox-touched and the same thick, black hair of a Delacroix, but Celeste had none of Delphine’s curves, all spindly limbs and bony hips and a humble chest. Her cheeks were thin, eyes too big for her head, and her skin had been described as ghost-like on more than three occasions directly to her face and probably many more behind her back.
The woman shifted, one of her dagger hilts catching the last rays of the sun. She was deeply tan with a short crop of dark hair all pushed forward to hang over one eye, a faint pall of fading, surprisingly infernal arcana around her.
“Oh, are you that shadow I’ve been seeing around the temple?”
Her sharp perception was blinked away, toned shoulders pulling back and mouth dropping open, but for only a moment. Then the challenge ran right back into her face, and though she was much shorter than Celeste, she was still imposing. “And if I am?”
“Um, I guess I’d just be happy to know it’s not an infernal hanging around. I’ve never been able to banish anything by myself before, and the really nasty ones can cause a lot of damage, but, uh, nevermind.” Celeste wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’m just on my way to get something to eat, not vengeance.”
