We approach the ring, and as much as I know the horrors waiting on the other side, I’d still rather face them right now than stay here any longer. I once thought that Cambria could be safe here, but it’s become abundantly clear that there’s no peace to be found for any of us.
Both homes are gone; here, and the fae realm. If someone is truly trying to hurt the three of them to get at me, eventually they’ll escalate to attacking me as well. Work is no longer a refuge I can hide behind, and I can’t even trust my memories anymore. I’m just...lost.
“Should we just go for broke and try the city?” Atlas sounds as hopeless as I feel. “Not much else to lose at this point.”
“Besides our lives,” Dorian helpfully points out, still on the fence about the plan. “We might not have a safe haven anymore, but that doesn’t mean this will be. It’s incredibly convenient; taking away all of our other options until we’re forced to risk it. Maybe that barrier over the place had other effects.”
Cambria sighs, taking a step into the shadowed forest as we cross. She doesn’t have the usual pep in her step, and I’m not sure if that’s because she’s still feeling sick, or from her breakdown last night. Not like I have much room to talk after hiding in the shower to avoid the inevitable conversation I know we're going to have to have.
“Let’s try. We can’t just hide in the woods and wait to come back when the human realm isn’t safe anymore either. Maybe we can glean some information before they grab their torches and pitchforks. Then we’ll just keep forging on until we find somewhere to settle.” She doesn’t look back, taking the lead, and we’re left following.
I’m scared to hope, but if Rickon thought this was a safe place to hide out, chances are he’d know better than any of us. Fuck, he certainly had more information to work with since I don’t even know if Lucien Avrell is my real name anymore.
We approach from the same angle as before, though far less prepared this time. Nearly everything was lost to the explosion, and we couldn’t just discreetly buy three guns. We have one backpack between all of us with a single change of clothes, a little food, a lighter, and a few pocket knives. Nothing that prepares us to take on an entire city or kingdom.
We’re simply stuck wavering on a cliff, looking down at a city of people that can command the very earth to do their bidding, and all we have are childish hopes and prayers for salvation.
“And her,” Dorian murmurs, like he could tell exactly where my thoughts were at. “The best weapon this side of the veil.”
I sigh. “She’s not a thing. She shouldn’t have to protect us.”
Cambria scoffs with false bravado. “Excuse you, but I’m your officially appointed guardian. It’s one hundred percent my job to keep you safe. You take the lead human side, and I take point here, remember?”
“You’re right,” Atlas teases, still more confident in this plan than any of us. “The blind leading the blind; great strategy.”
She flips him off without looking, attention wholly focused on the sight at the base of the hill we’re standing on top of. “Well, it’s been nice knowing you guys.” She grimaces before taking her first step towards whatever fate has in store for us.
“Don’t say it like that,” I chastise, stepping beside her.
“Yeah,” Atlas joins in. “If we’re going to die a horrible death, I’d at least like a better goodbye than that.” I smack the back of his head, but he just winks, unrepentant.
Cambria buys into it, each step imbued with more confidence. “Viking funeral could be fun. People shooting flaming arrows willy-nilly? Sign me up.”
“We’re not going to die,” I protest, but they’re actively ignoring me in favor of planning dramatic sendoffs.
“Maybe we can call the panther back,” he continues, the two of them trying to surpass the other in ridiculous deaths.
Before I know it, we’re at the base of the hill. That magical, serene sensation is steadily pressing down on me, but it’s easier to recognize now that I know to look for it. There’s no desire to combat it, the feeling blissful and tranquil more than anything, but I still hate anything that attempts to manipulate me in any regard.
Our presence hasn’t gone unnoticed, a few of the fae ushering away the children hastily and others nearly paralyzed in fear. Still, no one attacks or rages just yet, merely eyeing us warily. A few people break off and go running in the opposite direction, while many more just wait for something to happen like deer caught in a set of headlights.
Really, what did we even expect? To walk in here like we belong and ask to rent a room? Though I’ll admit, Atlas might be right. They aren’t hostile, more shocked than anything. Who knows how long they’ve been in hiding? Perhaps they’ve been under the illusion of safety for so long that they forgot that threats could eventually show up at their doorsteps, are underprepared to handle an attack.
Or maybe they’re just as scared of Elorie as Cambria is and want to be left alone.
“Hey there.” Cambria awkwardly waves, just to break the tension. She trails off, hunting for some sort of ice breaker and finding nothing.
My gaze flits between them, waiting for the second the moment of stunned stasis will shatter and all hell will break loose. It seems wrong to just continue into the town like there’s nothing out of the ordinary happening, but I’m not even quite sure what we’re waiting for. An invitation? All the munchkins to burst into song and welcome us into the magic city?
“Get Achlys,” someone hisses under their breath, but with as deadly silent as it is, it’s difficult not to overhear.
“We should probably run, right?”
But despite Dorian being as on the fence as I am, Cambria just seems...done. Sick of running already, tired of her life going the way it’s been. I’m beyond proud of her for finally wanting to take the initiative and face things head on for a change, but I’m simply not convinced that this was the best moment for a confrontation when we’re vastly outnumbered and underprepared.
We’re stuck just waiting for several agonizingly long minutes, the others shifting their stances uncomfortably while I remain stoic, watching. When the crowd begins to step aside to make room for someone passing through, I stand straighter, not sure what there is to even prepare for. We’re just offering ourselves up as non-virgin sacrifices and praying they toss us in the volcano rather than drag the suffering out.
I have no doubt in my mind that it’s Achlys, queen of the shadow court that steps in front of the crowd and towards us without an ounce of fear on her face. She has that same ethereal glow the rest of the fae here do, though nearly every inch of exposed skin is covered in a series of glowing tattoos. They have a life of their own, shimmering like a living river of magical ink from her face to the fingertips pressed to her lips. Her hair falls to her waist in a solid, ebony curtain, the color so deep it’s practically blue. Most notable though, is how unaggressive she appears, setting me more at ease.
