The gray streets are no longer dull and lifeless. They’re sparking bright with rebellion.
It’s not long before I notice a tawny young man with brown hair walking straight for me. He pulls a short sword from behind his back, ready to fight.
I’m to my feet in one swift move and begin to release my shadows. If he wants to attack me while I’m only armed with a damn dagger, then he’s going to learn I won’t fight fair.
At least, that’s what I tell myself is going to happen.
Instead, I’m met with a hard knock to the head, a wooded sound vibrating against my skull, which causes me to fall to my knees. The man paces over to me, with mousy brown hair and freckled skin, holding his sword to my throat.
My vision turns black and sound muffles around me. The last thing I see before collapsing is a blonde haired, dainty woman with a club in her hand. She looks devilishly cheerful, her lips turning up.
“Hello, Devourer.” Her voice is far away as my eyes flutter shut and darkness welcomes me.
A violent throbbing wakes me from unconsciousness. My eyes crack open, the movement causing them to ache. I’m face down, breathing in an earthy scent, my arms like lead under the weight of my body.
Faint glowing torches are the only source of light which allow my vision to slowly clear up.
My skin feels tight and my joints achy. The night sky is black, the moons hidden amongst clouds.
Taking in my surroundings doesn’t help my bearings as we’re no longer near the gallows but instead at the forest’s edge.
All I see are the great walls of Astoria shrouded with distance and the shadow of night.
I flex my fingers, willing the numbness to flee. The prickly forest floor is unwelcome, especially when I look around to see I’m alone. It’s even more foreboding than the iron culling bands locked around my wrists and ankles.What the fuck.
I can do nothing else but lay here like a prisoner until my mind can connect the present to the past. Frustration quickly surfaces.
Craning my neck up in an attempt to look around causes the muscles to seize. Something I hadn’t expected, even if I am by all accounts, an old man.
A slight breeze picks up, wafting the smell of smoke toward me. It’s then that I notice the glow from before has gotten brighter, one of the torches making its way to me slowly, as if it was a predator waiting to ambush.
Uncertainty replaces my frustration.
“Who’s there?” The words rush out of me, the bite of them making me sound like a chained animal.
“I was surprised to find a beast like yourself at Alora’s hanging. I admit, I took more pleasure than I should have when I knocked you upside the head.”
The slender blonde peeks from behind the torch, mischief and daring etched into her youthful face.
“Though, I really thought The Devourer would have had more awareness, especially in his surroundings.” Her brown eyes sparkle in the torchlight, clearly amused by our opposing roles in this conversation.
“That was a shock, especially with how easy it was to render you…” she waves her hand at me in a circular motion, “useless.”
I level my gaze to hers, flattening my voice. “And you are?”
“Ahh, there it is. The infamous impatience. Mr. Always—To—The—Point.”
She sets the torch down by her feet, its flames sizzling the damp grass.
“How do you know who I am?”
The amusement drops from her face as if I’d slapped her.
“You’re not that hard to figure out, you know? Broody, handsome, a stick up his ass, a healthy superiority complex.Those are clear markings of someone who is confident in their own importance.”
Maybe I’ve died after all, because whoever this woman is, she definitely makes the hammering in my head feel like hell. She obviously knows she is doing so, making the additional misery take on a more sadistic feel, and for once I’m not enjoying being tormented by a woman.
I rest my forehead on the dirt, hoping I can force this specter to flee. Shuffling of feet confirms my suspicion, she’s not leaving.
