Maybe the honor was being saved for their King—the one who clearly couldn’t handle the mere threat of my existence. Our existence—the gods.
I was being kept in some sort of tent in the depths of the Barren Lands.
They had unceremoniously yanked me off the horse, shoved me into a chair, and tied me to it. No wind caressed my skin, and the smell of stale magic was suffocating. A binding spell, perhaps.
It didn’t seem to work on me, I couldn’t feel it pressing on my skin, but I remained seated, nonetheless.
I couldn’t tell how much time passed since my initial capture—minutes, hours, days. I didn’t sleep, but the dust had a similar effect, I assumed, rendering me nearly unconscious.
The knights, though, clearly needed their rest.
And sustenance, which I couldn’t help but notice they didn’t provide for me. They must have known, then, that I didn’t require food to survive. Or they were content to let me starve.
That thought was… troubling.
I took to combing through my memory to pass the time—sorting through any memories I had regained, solidifying any new memories from my time in Moonvale, and pushing through any lingering painful blockades that remained. Theeffort was agonizing, like forcing my brain to liquify, but I persisted.
A trickle of wetness dripped down my nose, over my lips, collecting at the collar of my tunic.
I kept pushing.
When I met a block, I pushed harder.
Memories rotated, flipped, snapped into place.
A shout from the knights broke me from my painful musings.
My shadows roiled and churned, stronger now. Night had fallen.
The effort to control them was painful, my swollen mind struggling and sluggish, but they obeyed.
There was a ruckus outside. The knights jumped up, frantic, scrambling for their swords and armor.
They had clearly gotten comfortable, pouring ales and stripping to avoid the heat, and I was grateful for that.
They were caught off guard.
I wished silently that the ruckus was some sort of beast arriving to tear the men apart so I wouldn’t have to. Or, even better, another god, come to set me free.
My shadows spread, casting a thin, wide net.
A chorus of feet echoed in the distance. My cheek twitched.
A group was approaching—a big one.
This should be interesting.
I wanted to see.
Subtly, in case someone was watching, I forced my shadows into finger-like tendrils. I used one to shove the blindfold from my eyes. It was a huge relief to be able to see again. I used the next tendril to coax the tentflap open.
I was right about our location—we were somewhere deep in the Barren Lands, surrounded by nothing but rolling hills of dust and dirt. I shivered.
This place still felt wrong. At least now I knew why.
The knights were quickly trying to pack up their camp, but they were sluggish, probably drunk.
Celebrating their triumph a bit too early.
