Orrick ignored her and slinked up beside Garren, cocking his head to the side as he looked him up and down, assessing. “Hmmm,” he mused, left brow arching in interest as thin fingers rose to cup Garren’s chin. “There is something about you.”
Orrick frowned, taking a step away from Garren. “You are the one who killed my Martok.”
“He killed what?” Oriana gaped, staring at Garren. There was no way in all the cosmos he could have killed one of those creatures.
Garren’s brow furrowed, his body going rigid as Orrick stepped closer to him once again. Oriana looked between them, moving to interject, but she wasn’t fast enough.
Orrick slashed a nail across Garren’s cheek. Garren didn’t so much as flinch, just continued staring at Orrick as if frozen to the spot. Blood welled on his cheekbone, but almost as soon as the wound opened it resealed itself, leaving only a single drop of blood that slid like a tear down his face.
Oriana’s eyes widened. She knew many things were different about Garren, and she still couldn’t figure them all out. There was a familiarity with him, something that she hadn’t felt for a very long time. And the fact that he seemed almost to see through her enchantments, but this only solidified her suspicions. Garren was not mortal. So what was he?
Orrick licked Garren’s blood from his nail, smacking his lips as he tasted the dark red liquid. He stopped abruptly, narrowing his eyes at his finger where his thin pink tongue had licked, before flicking them up to Garren’s face, further furrowing his brow. “Impossible…” he whispered, but Oriana cut him off before he could do or say anything more. She didn’t want to know what her brother was about to say, what he had sensed–or rather tasted–in Garren’s blood. She could think on that later, question Garren later, but as much as she did want to know what and who Garren was, she wanted Orrick gone more, before he did something calamitous.
“I know what you’ve been doing these past years,” she ventured. “Ever since your last visit, I’m guessing.”
He whirled on her. “Oh Oriana, darling, try to lighten up. I’m just having a bit of fun. They’re my creations, after all. What use are they if I can’t play with them from time to time?” The smile he revealed in that moment could only be described as baleful.
She only gave her own minatory smile in return, “You’ve had your fun, now leave this place and take the beasts you’ve brought upon Svakland with you.”
His hand was around her neck in an instant. “You don’t tell me what I can and cannot do, sister,” he snapped, motioning to the world around them. “All of this is mine to do with as I please. It’s not my fault you fell in love with one of them. You should have never come here to begin with. It sickens me to even look at you.” He pushed her away roughly. “Now, as much fun as this has been, I’m afraid I must take my leave.” He looked at Garren then, tilting his head again in that same predatory way as before. “It has truly been…illuminating.”
Oriana noticed the exaggeration Orrick had put on ‘illuminating’. She looked at Garren with concern. What had Orrick seen in him? Orrick was far too pleased by the discovery for it to be anything unsubstantial, which frightened her even more.
“Dearest Oriana, I hope this evening finds you well.” His laugh grated like two rocks striking together.
He turned to leave, but paused, looking back to say, “Oh my, what sort of brother would I be without leaving a parting gift?”
“Don’t.” Oriana breathed, fists clenching at her sides.
Orrick bestowed Garren with a wicked wink before he snapped his fingers and strolled into the Phantom Wood behind them.
16
Garren
31st day of the Eleventh Month, 1774
Garren could not move or form a single coherent thought.
Something had been seriously off about that man. A crisp energy had crackled around him, pooling at his feet like morning frost and following him with each step he had taken. The instant he had left, Garren felt the warmth of the afternoon sun beating down upon him once again. It was as if the man, Orrick, had drowned out all comfort with his very presence, sucking the light and heat from the world.
“Th-that was your brother?” Garren finally found his voice.
“Yes,” she said, quietly, and he looked down to see her intently scanning their surroundings.
Her brother was almost the spitting image of the woman from the forest. Snow-white hair, pale green eyes, though admittedly, there was something sinister crouched behind them–as if he was a cobra poised to strike. Even their facial features were similar, elegant and beautiful.
“You are the Woman in White,” he stated as fact.
Oriana stopped her perusal of the field and looked at him, the weight of the entire world in that one look.
“How?” he questioned. Suddenly, her entire body changed, as if she had stepped out of the shadows to reveal her true self. Garren was graced with the full force of her beauty, the very woman he had seen that night in the forest.
Her eyes sparkled brightly in the sun. She opened her mouth to say something, but he would never know what she was about to utter, for a scream sounded far off in the city, stunting her thoughts. Another quickly rang out, followed by a chorus of shouting.
Oriana instantly took off, sprinting through the field. She was unnaturally fast, possibly even faster than he was. He raced after her.
As the screaming grew louder, they only ran faster. Smoke swelled above the town. Villagers fled past them yelling for everyone to run. Something was burning. What greeted them in the town square was the most wretched, horrifying creature Garren had ever beheld.
