These dark musings cease as soon as Orlin and Rune’s forms make their way through the barren orchard. I level my gaze towhere they stand, basked in darkness from the poorly lit night sky.
They’re conversing from what I can tell based on the hand movements coming from Rune.
My eyes trail to the nearby doorway that I’d come out of earlier, the one protecting her fromhim.
The thought of Orlin using his gift on her unsettles me and an accompanying chill brushes along my spine.
I shouldn’t care about her fate or even if she becomes the newest victim of this cursed nightmarishmagic. Gods know I’ve endured the plague of Orlin’s visceral nightmares, and though I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, I’ve come to understand it’s just part of my atonement.
The duty the gods have called on me is just a small price compared to the guilt I live with knowing I couldn’t change Eliorah’s fate.My naymeih.The one I was bound to.
Rune’s head snaps to me in midconversation and Orlin’s pale face turns to mine slowly, with that same snarky smile that I’ve come to learn means he’s planning something. His stringy hair falls in front of his face, concealing half of it while also making him look more shabby.
His teeth pull into a grin and I can’t help but want to pummel my fist into it.
Orlin finally looks away and saunters off through the trees, following the shadows as he walks in the direction of Astoria, surely to go binge on more wine and women with Rion.
They’re close companions, merely impressed by one another's vulgarity which usually ends in someone getting hurt.
Rune’s steps are quiet, the footfalls padding along the worn trail to where I now sit.
This outcropping of trees is nestled alongside rock that looks to be layered upon itself. The dark charcoal looking stone glintswith druzy crystal that formed in it long before it erupted from the earth.
It’s flat, enough so to appear as if it’s an altar hidden by the quivering leaves.
When Rune is close enough I can see the buttons on his overcoat, I lay down on the hard stone and shift my eyes to the sky and focus on the two moons cradled together.
At least in this ghastly realm where there is no kindness, they find comfort in one another.
Rune clears his throat and begins, “Orlin is growing suspicious as to why you’ve camped out near her.”
I simply growl in return.
“He doesn’t understand why you didn’t let him crack her mind the first time when she and her companion charged into the storehouse.”
Why didn’t I? It would have been easy, but something about that opalescent light that exploded from her shook me in ways I hadn’t imagined.
“Doesn’t he ever tire from harming people?” I grumble the words.
We both know the answer and yet Rune still replies, “A deranged man as he will never stop until he’s put down like the dog he is, you know this.”
Silence grows between us until soft howls in the distance begin to carry over the nearby mountain.
Rune shifts on his feet and I watch his hand instinctively move for his sword.
“Easy man,” I begin with a chuckle, “I know you’re scared of the dark but it’s merely the timberwolves. There is nothing to fear in these woods except for us.”
He still keeps his hand on his hilt as if prepared to draw his sword in a moment's notice.
“That’s easy for you to say Kassiel,” his wide eyes scour the surroundings that are layered in shadow, “I didn’t grow up in the woodlands like you and your fecking spirits.”
I bark out a laugh because he’s right. I’ve been accustomed to the phantoms and darkness that lingers this far north whereas he’s from the southern region, where the sandgrasses are large enough to get lost in.
The lilt in his words remind me for a moment that we’re very different, but yet one of the same coin. We both are merely here as the result of our magic. Stored away as collectables for King Euron.
A heavy sigh escapes me and I raise my arms and place them under my head. It’s easy to think back on what once was when we’re given these brief moments of freedom, if you could call it that.
Another howl crests the side of the mountain, closer now.
