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LETTING GO
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BY MORNING, THE TENTS had mostly burned to the ground. Griffin wandered through the paths kicking charred bits of wood with his feet and stomping out the occasional lingering flame. Brass walked beside him silently though Griffin could sense him waiting for an opening to speak.
“Out with it,” he said finally, tired of feeling the heaviness of Brass’ gaze on his neck.
“Your father’s camp...” Brass commented.
“Was just a camp,” Griffin replied coldly.
“Are you sure?”
Griffin remembered few things fondly about the time his father had spent here, and after inadvertently showing Savara the one memory, the rest had come back to haunt him. Just as well it got burned down, he thought. If someone hadn’t, he might’ve.
“Very.”
Brass nodded. “Who do you think started the fire?”
“The Golden Boys,” Griffin replied, watching the horizon for any new signs of trouble, but the world had stilled since the flames.
“The mafia?” asked Brass incredulously. “They have never given this kind of trouble before.”
Griffin spied Savara and Jasper talking heatedly. His brow crinkled as he stared at them. “We’ve never had someone like her here before,” he said, frowning as he watched Jasper storm off, leaving Savara in tears. She stared at her hands. Griffin watched her with a breath caught in his throat, wondering what might happen in her anger. He was relieved to see her drop them and hug her knees. Griffin knew he should check on her, but he had to see that everyone was okay first.
The two men walked again in silence. Most of the people at the camp had fled during the night. No one died and not too many were injured, thankfully, but the loss of the camp meant they would have to seek out other lodgings.
Somewhere safe from all of this, Griffin hoped, but he knew that no one in Visanthe would be safe with the shadows lurking.
“What do we do now?” asked Brass as he stared out at the various mounds of ash.
Brass had always been fond of the place, especially coming from somewhere that forced him to be something he wasn’t—a killer. Griffin promised him when he first came to the camp that he would never have to be that person again. With the camp burned down and the shadows on the rise, Griffin knew it would be hard to keep that promise.
“I don’t plan on rebuilding,” Griffin replied as he stared up at the sky. His people, the Izar, had always been able to read the stars, find guidance within their brilliance. But the stars had long gone, and this dawn sky held no wisdom, only warning. Griffin had already received all the warnings he could handle.
“Griffin!” Savara called as she walked up to them. A quiver played at her lip. She carried something under her arm that he couldn’t quite make out.
“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing streaks of ash lining her cheeks. His words provoked two streams of tears from her eyes, though she acted as if everything was fine.
“I...” Her eyes fell to the ground, unable to hold his gaze. “This is all my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“The camp.” Savara hesitated, letting the words hover on the tip of her tongue. “I spoke to Big Tog last night.”
“You what?” he growled, clenching his fists at his sides. He’d warned her of how dangerous he could be, and still, she’d gone back. “Savara, I told you—”
“I know.” Her body tensed as she spoke. Her hand floated up to where the rubies marred her cheek. “I had to...”
Griffin sighed. If he had been more careful, she never would’ve made the soul bond. If anything, this mess was his fault.
“He knows about the stones,” Savara added, her voice hoarse from a long night of crying and lacking in sleep. “And he knows they are planning an attack. They have a whole army of Argia soldiers headed for—”
“Idune,” Griffin interrupted. His heart sank. The skies had been warning him as much for some time, of a possible shift in rule, but he never imagined it would be brought on by violence. The news hit him with renewed force coming from her lips.
Savara looked up at him again, the whites of her eyes stained red by the many tears. “I have to be there when it happens. The deal I made with Big Tog was to find his son among the soldiers and...” She hesitated again. Griffin knew that if it were only something so simple as to bring back his son, Big Tog would’ve flooded the streets of Idune with his underlings. There was something of more consequence at play that Savara didn’t seem to want to share.
Idune was known to all as the unconquerable city, but after decades of peace and parties, Griffin doubted they were prepared for the kind of fight that was brimming. Worse still, he knew that if Idune fell, the rest of the world would too.
Griffin nodded finally. “Get the rest of the gang, salvage whatever means of transport we have, and Brass,” he said, turning to his dearest friend, “you and Simon stay close but keep out of the fight. I promised you wouldn’t ever have to see this kind of violence again, and I intend to keep my promise.”
Brass bowed and Savara nodded before setting out to find their friends, leaving him alone to his thoughts.
The curious letter, whose twin predicted the downfall of the Argia many years before, glowed vividly in his mind.
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NIGHT SPREADS ACROSS the earth, shadows climb the walls.
~ a friend
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THE LAST TIME HE’D ignored the warning. This time he would not be so foolish.
Griffin stared down at the charred tent that once belonged to his father, where something glinted from within the rubble. Brushing away the debris, he stooped down to pick up a warm, blackened metal locket. Inside, the pictures of his mother and father were surprisingly still intact. His eyes glazed over as he stared at it, wondering briefly whether to throw it back into the smouldering ashes before slipping it into his pocket.
The chilling wind that howled through the forest spoke of change, carrying something slightly grimmer than the cold. He’d felt this kind of air before and knew what it meant. Death was lurking nearby, just beyond the realm of sense, waiting for his next prey.
