I have to turn away from the sight, have to turn away from the Queen who openly begins crying as Keane reaches an arm around her shoulder. I take a step back and into the small woods of the Bell Grove, letting my feet pull me away as Stormfall remains quiet at my side.
My walk is my own, not one that is taken with a desire to confront the Ancient. I move into the grove to escape the intensity of everything from the Bonfire, to escape everything from the past few days so that I can try to enjoy a brief moment of calm that isn’t racked by my heavy sobs. It’s a walk that’s desperately needed, and when I step into the grove, Stormfall pushes off my shoulder and bounds into the night as my guide, the two of us moving idly and enjoying the serene darkness around us.
I kick at a small stone in the grass and watch it leap forward. It hits a tree trunk, one that looks sturdy enough for me to take a seat at its trunkand watch the crowd not far away. I do that and take a deep breath, my gaze staring at the bonfire through the trees as the realization hits again.
King Zander is gone.
His body and soul are now officially claimed by the Ancient.
I wish him well on his next adventure and find myself praying for the second time in my life to Hirovale, asking that the Ancient guide him peacefully to the tranquility and happiness that the being of Zander so rightly deserves.
“I will, Alexis…”
I gasp against the trunk.
“Though this wasn’t supposed to happen so soon.”
I stand up swiftly and pull my smaller dagger from my boot, pushing my want and need at Keane through my abdomen and hoping he feels the tug.
“Show yourself, Hirovale.”
I take a step forward and then glance up the tree at Stormfall, my mind becoming conflicted when his yellow eyes instantly greet mine. He’s watching to see what I’ll do, to see how I’ll react, and as I truly don’t want any more animosity to come between us, I sheathe my blade back inside my boot and give the Bird of Ash a gentle nod.
“My daggers are sheathed,” I announce, looking around the thin trees of the grove, “I wanted to harm you earlier,still do, but I’m willing to meet you now in genuine conversation.”
Stormfall caws at me from above, approving of my words. I glance back around the grove and hear strong footsteps on my right, my body turning around swiftly to see Keane moving through the tall grass with his eyes directly on mine.
“He’s here,” I tell the Prince, noting his calm demeanor.
I spread my hands slowly in front of me, letting him know that I’m holding no weapons.
Keane’s brown eyes hold mine before he gives me a small nod. He looks around the grove, the two of us eying every tree and sway of grass for a shadow or thick mist.
“Talk to us, Hirovale,” I grimace into the night, “don’t hide from this. Don’t let us think the worst of you.”
I catch a movement near another tree on my left. Keane sees it too and takes a few swift steps towards me, coming to stand by my side. We watch as the air at the bottom of the trunk grows thick and moves into silver swirls of mist, finally building into a thick blanket that spreads across the forest floor.
“We see you, Hiro,” I tell the Ancient.No more hiding.
Keane shifts next to me, the two of us gazing at the tree ahead and waiting for the Ancient to reveal himself. The thick cloud of mist at the bottom of the tree suddenly darts towards us, consuming the bottom of the woods before rising up to our knees. I look down at the white and grey and frown, watching as it moves right past us and behind our backs, towards theevent that’s farther away. The full of the air rises high and thick, encircling Keane and I from behind, effectively blocking out the crowd so that no one can see us in the Bell Grove.
I quickly glance back at the tree from where the air originated, watching as a boot juts out from behind it slowly. It’s followed by deep grey pants and an even darker grey tunic, two wrists swaying at its sides with the four black rings etched into the skin of one of them. Hirovale’s proud chest leans forward as his face comes into view, his golden eyes holding no laughter or amusement as he looks over the two of us. His black hair sways on his shoulders from the breeze of his air, the color as dark as the night around him.
Keane leans in closer and presses his shoulder against mine, and it’s then that I notice his right palm is up, fingers angled directly towards the approaching Ancient.
Fuck.
I quickly reach down for Keane’s hand, laughing internally at how quick our emotions have traded places. Keane grasps my fingers in his but does the same with his other palm, the two of us looking back at the Ancient in quiet anticipation.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this soon,” Hirovale repeats.
There’s a desperation in his voice, a sadness, but he still stands tall in his being. He’s holding himself with confidence, his whole demeanor containing a certain edge of seriousness to it that’s a far cry from his usually amused and secretive presence. He looks like the Ancient of Death and Exploration in this moment, how the history books have described him over the thousands of years. He’s calm and assured in where he stands, even as he says words that we don’t want to hear.
“You need to explain,” I demand of the Ancient softly, “no half-truths, no allusions. We need an explanation.”
Hirovale slowly shakes his head as his golden eyes land on Keane.
“I cannot.”
