by Kala Merseal
Instead, Ara felt the heat of the Raethin’s body against her as he dragged her along.
Everyone in their group remained deathly silent as they crept through the woods, begging for the sun to rise quickly.
Their ears pricked at each rustling leaf and scurrying creature.
Just as they began to relax, a hiss hummed underneath Arlow’s and Max’s murmurs. Raethin snapped for everyone to quiet, and his arm tightened around Ara’s shoulder.
A quiver rocked through Ara as icy realization washed over her.
The sound was not a hiss but laughter. A slow cackle released through clenched teeth. It came from behind, from the direction of the lone Kaevari.
The demon had followed them, just as Raethin predicted. Ara glanced at him and caught his strong jaw and long lashes as he turned.
Lurching forward in a smooth motion, Raethin swept the princess into his arms and shouted for the others to run.
Arlow scooped up Nyphelia. Veron and Max withdrew their bows, turning around to shot at the approaching creature.
The hissing grew in volume, turning into a string of curses in the ancient tongue. Curses for their eternal torture. Quips about their delicious flesh and blood.
Raethin sprinted, his body hindered by the princess’s weight. His endurance surprised her, given that just the day before, the vikifur had injured him.
The woods around her blurred as Raethin rushed forward. Raethin halted and dropped Ara to her feet. Her back hit a tree’s trunk, forcing the air out of her.
Veron and Max surrounded her and Nyphelia, the two elven women shuffling together. Arlow and Raethin unsheathed their swords. Their blades shimmered then with magick, currents of liquid gold bathing the metal in a glow.
The two swordsmen stilled. Their eyes focused on something through trees that Ara couldn’t see. She tried to look around but Max and Veron caged her and Nyphelia in, concealing them against the tree.
Raethin lurched, his body a blur as light erupted from his center. He disappeared past Ara’s field of vision. A minute later both he and Arlow danced back into view with the demon following closely behind. The Kaevari stood against the light like a black stain on a white cloth. It shrieked, writhing from the illumination, stumbling toward its source.
Light pulsed in waves from Raethin, its brightness unrelenting as he dashed for the demon. Arlow added to the light, his own magick a weak stream compared to Raethin’s torrent of raging fire.
“What in the Void—”
A hand clamped down on Ara’s shoulder, silencing her spoken shock. Max stood over her.
Raethin darted forward, extending his sword in a sweeping motion across the Kaevari’s torso. The blade sliced through its stomach, singing the flesh. The creature’s shriek increased an octave before it turned into a gurgle. It hunched forward and the blaze that now glowed from within the wound erupted throughout the Kaevari’s body, consuming it quickly.
Ara’s jaw dropped in shock—and a hint of awe.
Raethin was strong, his light magick devouring the Kaevari in mere seconds.
The creature crumbled to the ground, now cinders and ashes.
Raethin’s tempo did not stop as he sheathed his sword and hurried to the others.
“What in the hells was that?” Ara shouted as Raethin gripped her wrist and pulled her forward. She stumbled to her feet, her shock distracting from the rough way Raethin towed her along. Such power magicks, Ara hadn’t ever experienced. Now she knew why her father put Raethin in this position.
“We must leave this area,” Raethin snapped.
“I didn’t know you could use magick like that,” Ara groused as her feet stumbled over the ground.
Raethin looked over his shoulder at the princess. His furious expression cooled into his usual reserved mask.
“Magick leaves a signature, princess,” Raethin said. “While I quickly disposed of the demon and scared off those who followed, what I did just now left a stain on the area. Whatever else that may be looking for us will now know exactly where we were, and where we are going.”
She knew that. Ara had enough education of magick theory from all her tutors. A part of her knew that she might have struggled with the situation because of the heightened adrenaline and shock of the attack. But what confused her was Raethin’s omission of what he knew of the creatures.
The world around them quieted. Animals began to creep back out of their hidden homes. Birds chirped, a sign that morning quickly approached despite the late arrival of the sun.
“Your father taught me himself.”
Ara jerked and looked at the commander, who still held her wrist. His fingers loosened, but instead of letting go of her, they slid to hold her hand, and his grip tightened.
She flushed, confusion and anger clouding her thoughts.
“He wanted to ensure that we had a fighting chance on our own,” Raethin continued a moment later, startling Ara once more. “When we discovered that the Kaevari were vulnerable to light, he sought to teach the light arcane to everyone who had the capabilities. Not all showed the innate abilities, but I managed to struggle and fight for the art long and hard enough to become strong. That is why your father granted me the promotion to royal commander.”
Ara paused, absorbing the weight of the Raethin’s words. Her father had taken measures to protect her, knowing her weakness.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because your loving father wanted to ensure that if your betrothed couldn’t protect you, then I would.”
♦♦♦
The group walked in silence, still stunned by the Kaevari attack. Ara followed Raethin in a daze, her thoughts reeling over her past, Raethin’s words, and her father. Ara realized she was severely jealous over the intimate relationship Raethin and the king had. Like Aescion, Raethin had shown signs of talent, and her father seized that opportunity to train him. Maybe Raifeld even saw Raethin as a son — someone in which he could confide his greatest knowledge and deepest sorrow. She wondered what Raethin knew of her.
When Ara felt Raethin’s fingers shift, she jerked, realizing that Raethin still held her hand. As if her touch was hot, Raethin jerked his hand from her, and quickly added distance between them, taking large strides ahead of the group. Slowly, Raethin relaxed.
The sun peeked through the trees, a sign for relief and rest. The group ventured further, seeking a source of water to rest by.
They found a large patch of grass beside a creek, wider than the last. The soldiers hurried to the water, dunking their canteens for fresh drink. Nyphelia stayed beside the princess, swaying on her feet from fatigue.
“Finally, we may rest,” Ara muttered to her friend, who nodded with droopy eyes.
Raethin stood on the other side of the princess, a frown deepening his stony expression. Ara wondered about what he thought but before she could ask, he turned away from her. Raethin unpacked his own canteen and went to the creek, gathering fresh water to drink.
With the tent erected, Ara entered with Nyphelia. Eating would have to wait, as fatigue and shock still reigned hell on her body. They fell onto their mats and curled up, falling quickly to sleep.
Chapter Five
The abyssal darkness welcomed her in the dream realm often these last few days. Her non-corporal body drifted in the mystical waters, the weightlessness a calming lull compared to the ensuing chaos of her waking hours.
What she found strange was how self-aware she was during her dreams. She knew that in the arcane, there were magi that could dream-walk and astral-project to extraordinary places that the mundane people of Thraes could never imagine. That such skilled sorcerers could journey to other worlds, indulging in new cultures, new ecosystems, new peoples, new species; one of the abilities rare and prized above all others.
But like with every other struggle in the arcane, Ara never showed promise for such skills. Not only that, but her gifts had not been active for decades. And though decades seemed like merely a few years to an elf
, Ara especially felt that she suffered from the time.
Still, Ara indulged in the experience. Time was nonexistent in this realm, and she found herself drifting for what felt like hours and hoped that her sleeping body received a sound rest.
But when would she wake? The longer she drifted, the more that panic began to surface within her.
Ara tried to force herself out of sleep, and something tightened and strained in her mind, the closest sensation to a headache a non-corporal form could feel. She tried to jolt her weightless body forward. The darkness swirled, shadows interlacing with slivers of sudden light. The tightening sensation in her mind thickened, growing almost painful.
The churning stopped and Ara found herself fixated in a different darkness. Shadows swirled around her like smoke, glittering off the same slivers of light as they pulled and tugged at her form.
Through the shadows, a hand reached for her. Long fingers flitted inches away from her face, black talons razor sharp and slick like oil. The hand itself was an ashen gray, peppered with charcoal and crimson. The swirling slivers of light pulsated, jerking violently around her as the figure grew in view.
The familiar horned Kaevari appeared through the shadows. His crimson eyes vibrated, their glowing pulse growing in momentum as if following the beat of her heart, which thundered in her ears.
Strange sensations, given that this was an out-of-body experience. She knew now she was no longer in her dreams. This creature had tugged her from the safe confines of her mind and pulled her into his own astral matrix.
“I have found you, Arana Zypherus,” the demon whispered, his black lips tugging into that sanguine smile.
His teeth gleamed in the echoes of her circling light.
“Your guardian has made a grave mistake, showing his magick,” the demon continued, leaning closer.
Ara jerked, her eyes widening as the light illuminated the contours of the Kaevari’s face. There were familiar lines, though not so distinctly that she could place a memory to them. But the familiarity ended where the monstrosities began.
She could not deny that the demon was beautiful. A creature of the Void, of death and utter destruction and perversion, also rivaled the beauty of the gods. Her heart thundered as the Kaevari pressed against her, his presence a massive pressure that mimicked physical sensation. His heat against her was scorching as he gripped her chin, the edges of his talons grazing her soft skin.
Her stomach dipped. Sweat coated her complexion.
This dream was becoming more real by the second — as if the demon pulled her physical body into the astral matrix.
Ara jerked, trying to break their connection, but the Kaevari’s grip tightened, and a hiss filled her ears as his arm snaked around her torso.
“I have sought after you for decades now, but the Void King has restrained me.” The Kaevari’s lips pressed against the curve of her neck and his murmurs sent shivers across her skin. Her body went slack as his hands splayed across her back and torso.
“The Void is now ready to claim the next rav'la, Ara. Our destinies are intertwined, and it is now time to join.”
His teeth grazed her throat, the sharp incisors aching to break the skin.
Ara quivered, begging for anything to rip her out of sleep and away from this creature. His magick made the dream so real that whatever he did to her may also affect her in the waking world. Her hands fumbled against his chest as she tried to shove away. The Kaevari caught her wrists, wrenching them around her back.
His chuckle tickled her neck.
“Who are you? Why in the hells are you after me?”
Her questions came out in short, shaky breaths and around the lump in her throat.
His chuckle darkened, and he jerked his head up to meet her eyes. The red darkened in his eyes as his sanguine smile deepened. “Nivar krosai.”
I am nothing.
♦♦♦
The Kaevari’s words were drowned out by screaming—a sudden staccato that sent a jolt through Ara’s body, followed by rapid shaking.
The demon winked out of her dream as the abyssal darkness swirled into light. Ara jerked awake, blinking through sun and sleep as Nyphelia stood over her. Wetness coated her neck, and she dabbed at it, revealing her slick blood on her fingers.
Nyphelia stopped yelling and sat back on her knees, her eyes wide and wet with tears.
“What happened?” Ara asked, her voice hoarse.
“You were convulsing,” Nyphelia muttered as she wiped her eyes. “And you start bleeding suddenly. I didn’t think I could wake you up.”
“What in the hells is going on?” Someone shouted. Shadows casted against the tent as the others surrounded them.
Nyphelia popped her head through the tent’s flaps and whispered to them. Ara eyed her fingers as she dabbed at the wound again. Slick blood cascaded down her neck and shoulder, across her chest.
Ara twisted to find some scrap cloth to press on the wound. She dabbed at her neck as Nyphelia stumbled back into the tent. Raethin shoved through the flaps, his eyes wide and scrutinizing as he scanned the tent.
“Why were you screaming?”
“I—” Nyphelia floundered like a fish and Ara cut her off.
“Nothing,” she said, silencing her friend with a look.
“I just had a bad dream.”
“That is a lie.”
“It’s not. I did have a bad dream and Nyphelia woke me up.”
Raethin paused. His shoulders relaxed but he stilled when he caught the blood on her neck.
“Then what is that on your neck?”
“Cut myself on a rock.”
“That is a lie—”
“Commander,” Ara cut in. “You’ve caught me in an indecent state. I’m undressed and you barged in here. Can we not have this argument civilly outside?”
Raethin froze. His gaze flickered down, taking in her undergarments, then shot back up to meet her stare.
“Fine,” he groused. “But I expect you to approach this with full honesty. Come out when you’re decent.”
Raethin left. Ara sagged and took a deep, shaking breath. Nyphelia handed over her leather clothing and they dressed.
They both stood and slipped on their boots but before they exited, Nyphelia grabbed Ara’s arm and whispered, “Why are you lying to the commander?”
Ara’s stomach dipped, as she wondered that herself. But when she reflected on her behavior, she realized that if she admitted it to the others, they would realize just how weak-minded and unresistant to magick she was.
Something in her gut told her it didn’t matter— rationality reminded her that they were refugees, fighting for survival. If she didn’t tell them her weakness, then they would be vulnerable to it.
Ara shrugged and without voicing her fears, she left the tent, not checking to see if Nyphelia followed her.
Raethin and the other warriors stood around a dead fire, their backs rigid with anxiety. When they saw the princess, they all turned to her.
“Ara—” Max began, then stuttered when Raethin raised a hand to silence him.
“What happened in your dream?” Raethin asked.
Ara hesitated. Her stomach clenched with dread as she took a deep breath.
“How did you get that wound, Princess?” Raethin pressed on, coaxing for a response.
Ara flushed. Raethin’s dark eyes narrowed when she didn’t respond.
“Well?”
“I don’t know.”
“They look like teeth marks.” Raethin moved toward her, leaning close to the wound. “It smells, too.”
“I don’t know.” Ara jerked away but Raethin held her shoulders.
“You do.” Raethin leaned back to stare at her. His emerald eyes hardened as anger overcame him. “They’re following you in your dreams, aren’t they?”
“I—”
“For Void’s sake, Ara. Your ignorance will get us killed.” Ara flinched at Raethin’s accusative hiss, averting her eyes.
“Wh
y would you try to lie?” Raethin groused as he shoved away from her. “It was childish to assume that I would not notice and know.”
“Childish—”
“Yes, and arrogant.” Raethin turned his back to her and raked his hands over his skull, pulling at his hair.
“I am arrogant?” Ara snapped. “Raethin Corvus, every time you open your mouth, the most disastrous, the most confident words spew out like dung.”
“I don’t deny.” Raethin threw over his shoulder. “I am aware of my pride, unlike you with yours. You take it upon yourself to decide when to omit important details, as if you can overcome them by yourself. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead. That is why your parents elected me to be your babysitter.”
Ara began to retort but Raethin flicked a hand, the gesture a command.
“Silence.” Raethin snapped over her curses. “I won’t let you distract me with this petty argument. Tell me what happened in the dream, and we will adjust our course of action.”
“Fine,” Ara hissed, pulling at her loose hair. She glanced at the others, who had stopped to watch the spectacle. They turned away and began packing up the camp.
Max stood by Raethin, waiting for Ara to speak.
“I have had dreams” Ara sighed. “Of shadows and carnage. They are merely nightmares. But often…often, I find myself facing a horned Kaevari, larger than the others. I have seen him murder my father, relishing in his blood.”
A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the vividness of those visions. Her voice shook as she forced the words out. “The demon — he saw me, in the dreams. As if they weren’t dreams and I was watching him, and he knew I was there. He called out to me in one of them and said that he found me. And I was in the darkness in that dream, and it was like he pulled me out of the dream and into something more real.”
“What did he do?”
Ara blushed, recounting the rough intimacy the Kaevari demanded, then shivered as she remembered his lips on her throat.