Naaveen
I drop the emotions into the well that is my soul where they’ll swim among the void.
If only so Alora will be safe.
Because I am The Devourer.
I stalk down the side street, following the group closely, hiding in shadow.
With each step I force myself to detach from the moment. Ignore the chatter from those that I would consider friends.
Because right now, although friends to me, they are an order given to The Devourer.
They left the market in Ezmelir, chatting and lively as they picked up their bannocks. Merinda’s twists sway, rebraided with gold that makes her umber skin glow brighter. Naaveen stops near a flower stall filled with red bouquets for tonight’s honor of the Blood Moons. He hands a loose coin to the woman peddling the blooms.
They’ll soon wilt, like all things that come to pass.
I lean against the nearest building, making my form smaller—unseen. I’ve mastered the hunt. This time is no different, it’s just a job that needs done.
If I don’t complete this, Orlin would be sent instead. He would be far less merciful than I. He would prolong their suffering and toy with them, something I wouldn’t wish on them.
Merinda trapses ahead, her companions lingering for a moment to collect their change.
The group keeps to themselves, stopping for small peddlers that look in need of the sales.
Zedriel, his clothes neatly pressed and shoes polished, is a stark difference compared to the once burly man that helped me in the Siltar Woods. His coat was too big for me then, even though his kindness reminded me what it was like to see humanity in others.
The Hidden members move forward again, their murmurs floating back quietly to me. Nothing in particular. Small talk.
It’s always so strange to know when someone's life is soon over but watching them continue on without a clue.
Merinda rounds a corner and enters into a doorway.
Damnit, my chance is running out.
Naaveen and Zedriel stay in the close alleyway, laughing and joking with one another. So unassuming.
I move in closer, still hidden by the shadows of the tight passageway mixed with some of my own that I called forth from my essence.
Naaveen gives Zedriel a deft slap on the back, chuckling at whatever was just said. He quickly turns and enters through the same doorway Merinda had.
Zedriel stretches his arms and begins to make his way through the door before I whisper his name.
He stops, his face stern and focused.
“Zedriel,” I whisper again, recalling my shadows so he can see me.
His eyes brighten and he makes his way toward me. As he gets closer, his expression starts to fall.
“Kassiel,” he begins, looking around where I’m standing, presumably looking for Alora as well.
I nod, words escaping me.
“Is Alora safe? Why are you here?” he asks.
I beckon him closer with my hand, and he complies. He follows me down the alley for a length before slowing his steps.
Cautiously, he asks again, “Why are you here? What is so urgent you leave the castle while Alora is there?”
