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Shaye strapped her jeweled dagger to her thigh. She shrugged on a delicately embroidered jerkin and fitted trousers; they fit her well considering they had probably been made for a small-framed man. Women in the Winter Palace would never have been caught wearing men’s clothing, but she didn’t care. She had always been more comfortable this way. Besides, her travel clothes were a wreck from the cave incident, and she could not very well wear a dress to hunt down rogue Magi.
She and Bastian had stayed up well into the night. He had always been a dreamer, full of ideals, and he had shared with her all the changes he thought would benefit Asterion. He wanted Magi to regain their powers, to play more of a role in the King’s court; not as they once had, but as equals to the humans who now ruled it.
It made sense; it was not anything she had not thought before. Again, she found herself wondering what it would have been like if they had not been separated. Would they have continued to rely on each other, or would they have grown apart as childhood friends often did? They had been deep in the bottle when she finally excused herself to bed.
That night she dreamed of a ballroom, only this time it was not one flowing with blood. It was a beautiful party, and Bastian had twirled her on the dance floor. She found herself in a gown of black, entwined with a beautiful, beaded bodice; it was like magic had been sewn into the very fabric of it. Bastian wore a jacket that matched, like they had been made as a set.
This time, when he had taken her hand and pulled her into that stairwell, it had been to steal away a kiss. He tangled his hands in her hair and kissed her deeply, and she had savored every second. His hands had found their way lower, rounding her breasts and pulling at the beaded bodice.
She had melted into him, wanting more, needing more. She moaned his name and lost herself in him. His hands were at her skirts now, pulling them up above her silken stockings. Shaye, he purred into her ear, sending lightning currents through her entire body. She savored the way her name sounded on his tongue. Then, just when she thought she would let him take her right there, she awoke.
The dream had felt so real, she could still feel his hands on her body as she washed and dressed for the day. She had to shake this feeling. Sorin needed her head in the right place for this mission. Sorin. By The Mother, what will I do? She could not deny there had been something between the two of them before Bastian had shown up. She had come to trust and care for him more than she had thought possible. But now with Bastian here, she couldn’t think straight.
When she came downstairs, the others were ready and waiting for her. She blushed when she saw Bastian and had trouble meeting Sorin’s eye. “Let’s do this.”
They made their way toward the forest, Mavka leading the way. Her sources in the Raven Wood had told her that there was dangerous activity to the north of the forest. It took them hours to follow the tree line around, hoping to avoid run-ins with any dangerous creatures lurking in the shadows.
Dusk was nearing as they came to a desolate piece of land. It looked as if it had been scorched by fire, and the smell of sulfur filled the air. Mavka touched the ground, letting the ashy dirt slip through her fingers. “We’re close. Their black magic is seeping into the land. The worse the condition of it, the closer we are to them.”
They continued further, until they came to an abandoned camp. It looked as if whoever had been there had left in a hurry. Smoke still billowed from the fires around the encampment, and supplies were strewn around carelessly. Shaye and the others ventured further into the camp, on high alert for anyone who may have stayed behind.
“King Sorin, you need to see this.” Ingemar was standing by a large pillar that had been buried into the ground. As Shaye followed Sorin to the pillar, she could see that it was sloppy work, tilted to the side as if it would give at any moment and topple over. The smell of rotting flesh was almost unbearable, the closer she came.
When she stepped close enough for a clear view, Shaye gasped at the horror in front of them. A man was strung up; he had been there for a while by the look and smell of him. Except as they came closer, Shaye realized he was not human. His skin was a soft green like Mavka’s. Curved horns sprouted proudly from his head, common amongst male Forest Dwellers.
A crow sat perched atop the pillar. He cawed wildly at the sight of them. Mavka let out a wail and dropped to her knees when she saw the Dweller hanging. Bron was by her side in an instant, cradling her in his large arms. Shaye tried to hold back the vomit rising in her at the horrid sight. She wanted to go to her friend, to help Bron comfort her, but she couldn’t move. She could not bring herself to do anything but stand there, rooted to the putrid ground that was tainted with black magic and the death of one of its own.
Sorin took the Forest Dweller down from the post, cutting the ties that held the poor creature’s hands above his head, his limp body nearly knocking Sorin into the ground. He laid him down gently, saying a quiet prayer over him. Mavka knelt, whispering what Shaye guessed were the resting rites of her people. Mavka dragged branches to his body, placing them neatly over him, and closed his eyes in respect.
“From the land you are born and to the land you return.” Mavka bowed her head and put a hand to her heart.
Shaye accompanied Sorin and the others to search the camp, looking for any sign of where the Nefari might be headed next. It was strange to see how mundane each tent was. There were no signs of the darkness that resided within its former tenants. Cups were left half full, papers were strewn around, signs that they had left in a hurry. Shaye sifted through the papers; there was nothing significant in any of them. She huffed in frustration, “There’s nothing useful here.”
“Take them anyways, we’ll look through them again later, see if we missed anything.” Sorin took them from her so he could tuck them into his pack.
“King Sorin!” Ingemar shouted from outside of the tent.
They ran out just in time to see a hooded figure retreating into the forest. Before he could get lost in the tree line, Bron appeared, throwing out a muscled arm and knocking the Magi to the ground. He held out his sword before the man could move away.
Shaye and the others caught up to them. Mavka was standing beside Bron, bouncing on her feet. “I want to kick him.”
Bron put a hand on Mavka’s shoulder to steady her. “I know... but we typically refrain from that sort of thing.”
The man spat at Bron’s feet and Bron rolled his eyes. “On second thought, maybe I should let her kick you.”
The man raised his hands to call on his magic; the very tips of his fingers were black. He was Nefari. Ingemar blocked the magic with her own and the Nefari looked up at them with a snarl, “Do what you want with me, it doesn’t matter anymore, you’re too late to save them.” His laugh sent chills down Shaye’s spine.
Bron growled, “Oh, we’re not going to kill you.” He pulled the Nefari from where he laid on the ground. “We have other plans for you.” He dragged the Magi into one of the tents. The Nefari cursed at him under his breath.
“Wait. You’re going to torture him?” Bastian said before he began to follow Bron and their captive to the tent.
Sorin blocked his path. “We’re going to do what’s necessary to find out what he knows. But I assure you, Bron will ask before he acts.”
Bastian turned to Shaye, panic on his face. Shaye shook her head at him, “I trust Sorin to do what needs to be done. We don’t have the luxury, or the time, to spare him.”
“So, you would condone the torture of your own kind?” Bastian was pleading with her now.
“He is not our kind, Bass. You see what they did to that innocent creature. We need to stop them.” She didn’t like how this was all playing out, but she felt like they were running out of options, and she trusted both Bron and Sorin to do what they could before resorting to more violent means.
Bastian went to her; Sorin shifted on his feet as if he would stop him but stayed where he was. Shaye allowed Bastian to take her hands in his. “Shaye, listen to me.”
Sorin cut in, pushing between her and Bastian. “No. Bastian, you listen to me. You have no authority here.”
Shaye was feeling lightheaded and needed a moment to think. She spoke, “Bastian, please excuse us. I would like to speak to Sorin alone.”
Bastian did as she asked, storming away, and disappearing behind one of the tents. Mavka and Ingemar silently excused themselves as well, lingering out of earshot by the forest line.
“Sorin, are you sure this is the only way?”
He looked down at his feet. She could sense that he did not feel right about what he was about to do. “I don’t see another way, do you?”
“I don’t know. I’m just so tired.” Another headache was coming on again and she felt like she should sit down.
Before they could say anything else, a blast came from the tent where Bron had been holding the prisoner. Shaye and Sorin ducked in surprise as a plume of smoke rose from where the tent had once been. Bron was thrown, hitting the ground with a thud.
He rose slowly, appearing to be unharmed. When the dust settled, they saw the Nefari they had captured, laying in the debris from the blast. A knife had been plunged into his heart and he laid in a pool of his own blood, staring up to the sky with blank eyes.
“What the hell?” Bron swore as he ran to the Nefari to see if he was still breathing. He shook his head; their only lead was dead. “He was confined one minute and the next, something hit. Sorin, I swear to you I didn’t see his hands move; he wielded no magic. It came from somewhere else.” Bron looked around wildly. “Where did he even get the bloody dagger?”
“Where is Bastian?” Sorin demanded.
“You think Bastian is responsible for this? Are you insane?” Shaye was appalled at the accusation. “Only moments ago, he had been pleading on the man’s behalf, why would he kill him after something like that?”
“Moments ago he was trying to stop us. Now our only lead to the Nefari whereabouts is laying there dead.” Sorin was mad with rage.
“He did this to himself, Sorin.” She needed to get a grip on the situation, emotions were running too high. “You’re jealous and you’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’m not thinking clearly?” Sorin was visibly shaking now. Shaye could not understand why he was passing blame onto Bastian. His face turned red with furry. “Since he has arrived, things have only gotten worse. He’s hiding something and everyone can see it but you.”
Shaye backed away, anger fueling her. “Enough! You are so far in over your head that you’re finding fault in him where there is none.” Darkness was beginning to cloud her vision and she put a hand to her head.
“Shaye, listen to me.” Sorin begged her.
“No, you listen to me. I have given up everything to follow you here, put my grievances with your family aside, and now you accuse my friend of working with the enemy... Accuse him of murder.”
“You need to set those feelings aside and see what is right in front of your eyes!” They were shouting at each other now.
“You know what, Your Majesty, you drive me crazy.” She turned to walk away from him; She needed to sit down, to catch her breath.
“Well, that doesn’t take much, does it!” He shouted at her back as she walked away.
“What’s going on here?” Bastian reappeared in front of Shaye, looking bewildered. He went to her side, steadying her as she stumbled toward a nearby stump.
Sorin looked murderous. He turned on Bastian. “Do you know anything about this?” He pointed to the dead forest creature whose heart had been carved from his chest. Then to the Nefari, still laying in a dark pool of his own blood. “Tell the truth Bastian, have you ever seen this creature or this man before today?”
Bastian looked shocked at the accusation. “Of course not. I told you, I came alone from the West.” He left Shaye alone on the stump and strode back toward Sorin.
Sorin struck him in the face, throwing him into the dead earth. He was on him in seconds. Shaye yelled out to him, but there was no stopping him. He tore into Bastian like a wild animal. Shaye closed her eyes; summoning her magic, she called on the ground to tremble, but nothing came. The land here had nothing left to give her. So, she did the next thing she could think of and threw herself into Sorin, tumbling to the ground with him. Bastian scrambled to stand, dusting himself off and wiping the blood from his face with the back of his sleeve.
He had a rabid look in his eyes as he yelled at Sorin, “You dare accuse me of betrayal? King Sorin, maybe we should count your sins instead of mine.” Sorin looked at him in confusion, still on the ground, next to Shaye. They both paused to hear what Bastian had to say.
Bastian went to Shaye, kneeling before her. “My only sin is not telling you sooner.”
“Telling me what, Bastian?”
“Of how your parents met their fate.” His eyes bore into hers and he spoke with a deep sense of urgency. “The usurper, King Allerick, ordered an attack on the last of the Druid bloodline. He knew it was they who protected the relics, the only ones who knew where to find them. He sent his people to take the Stave and ordered them to leave no survivors.”
Sorin looked like he could spit venom. He gritted between his teeth, “Liar.”
Clouds began to darken the sky and a chill filled the air. Bastian inched closer to Shaye; he looked intently in her eyes. His gaze felt like fire in her soul. “I’m telling you the truth. His father was a cold-blooded murderer and so is he.” He pointed to Sorin, who was standing now, speechless.
“Sorin would have you become a slave to him. Only allowing you your power so long as you do his bidding. Have you forgotten your own people Shaye? They need you now more than ever. Only you can control and guard the relics. Without you we will remain stagnant in this life, doomed to wither away in a mediocre existence.”
Shaye could not take her eyes from him. Everything around her went silent, even the cawing of the crow high above them. Bastian would not lie to her. He loved her, had always loved her. It had been the two of them since the beginning. Sorin barely knew her; he claimed to need her, but for what? So she could help him destroy magic as his father had done?
Images flashed in her mind. Her mother was telling her to run, to look for her aunt and uncle in the palace. She saw a village, not far from where they were now, filled with slaughtered Druids, strung up for the crows to feast on. The smell of fire filled her nose, and she could feel the seeds of fear that had been planted in her at that moment.
Her mind went foggy again, and all she could feel was the growing need for vengeance. Blood for blood. She would make them pay for everything they had done to her people, to her parents, to her. Fire rose from within her, not from the land but from someplace else; somewhere far darker. And colder.
She could hear distant shouting, but she could not recognize the voices anymore; she no longer cared. She felt like she would be consumed by the hate that was filling her. She needed to release it, to make the world feel it. Let go, a voice whispered from within her. She did as the voice bid. Fire exploded from her, knocking her back into the darkness.