Visions of a Hidden

by Matthew Wolf

  “What am I supposed to do without you?”

  “Live,” she said. “You… you are something special. Something this world has never seen. You will change it for the better. I know you will. Just live, for me,” she said and her breathing grew tight. Her hand squeezed his more tightly as pain flashed across her faultless features. “Promise me.” Rydel did, promising fervently. Then her eyes took on a shadow as if seeing something. Her voice quavered suddenly, “I-I’m afraid, my love. H-hold me?”

  Rydel did, pulling her tight and feeling hot tears fall down onto her.

  Then he felt her chest stop rising and falling. Rydel swiftly pulled away and saw Elisaria’s eyes gazing into the world of the beyond, seeing the Great Spirit. She was gone.

  “No, no, no, no,” he uttered suddenly frantic. “I’m not done yet,” he said through grit teeth and gently picking her up, he ran. I have to find the pools. Then he would submerge her body and give Elisaria her fill of the life-giving waters.

  When he returned to where he fought the dragon of wind in the vast enclave, however, the Hidden Pool was gone. No sign of the dragon’s battle even showed. Had he imagined it? “No, it was here!” He cursed. “Gods, it was here, I swear it.”

  But somehow he knew. Like a Node, a magical sanctuary of Farhaven, the Hidden Pool must only appear based on need. Well, he needed it now—he needed it like he needed air. Rydel bellowed into the woods until his already hoarse voice cracked and vanished, but there was no answer. He fell to his knees, Elisaria’s limp body in his arms.

  In a daze, the world empty of color and life, Rydel staggered back out of the woods. This time nothing attacked. Drekkar watched with their sightless pale eyes, drawn by the blood. They only watched, sniffing the air. Black, foul blood still coated his body. It had left little burns that would turn to scars. The burns had exposed his muscles that still coiled and bunched with rage. Clicking sounds tracked him, hungry and horrible, but they drew no closer. In a daze, he walked until he saw the light of the forest’s edge.

  At last, he broke the tree line and collapsed to his knees again in the center of the empty clearing. Only hours ago he had left his brothers and his master here, to travel into the woods. Now it felt like a lifetime.

  Rydel laid Elisaria down on the cool grass. She was pale in the morning sun. Her skin looked like the first snow, but her eyes… Her stunning sky-blue eyes now stared up, past the morning sky, gazing at nothing. Those eyes, robbed of all her previous fire. She was dead, with nothing he could do to bring her back, and as he’d never done before, Rydel began to sob. Heaving sobs that retched his whole body as he clutched at her, feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt.

  Time passed, the night settled on him, dawn came next—a new day—and still he held her in his arms.

  For Rydel, the world, his world, had ended.

  Finally, after an eternity, he opened his eyes. Dawn and snow settled about him. A single snowflake fell from the sky, touching and melting on his cheek. White pallets of powder coated everything; the skeletal trees, the clearing, even himself. How long had he been there? How many days had he gone without eating or drinking? Shirtless as he was, he should have frozen to death long ago, but he felt only a numb cold. On his pale skin, he noticed countless white lines of varying size, but they all had the same look. And he realized it was the wounds, now healed from where the blood of the drekkar had touched. The little scars marred his hard flesh and muscle. He was glad for them, representing a memory he didn’t want to banish, and a far too small a price for the agony inside him. But why wasn’t he dead of frostbite? Then he glanced to the darkened Drymaus Forest. The woods had a powerful magic… It had saved him, but why?

  Above the clear sky showed a new day. Rydel looked down at Elsaria. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but the same powerful magic of the nearby woods had kept her body the same as the day she had died, just as pale and lifeless, but just as beautiful. Rydel’s muscles hurt, tendons and ligaments searing with pain as he slowly stretched. Every moment was agony as he took what felt like his first real breath in ages.

  Then… as he turned he saw something on a skeletal tree in the center of the glade.

  A cloak dangled from the tree’s frail branch. A familiar cloak.

  A hando cloak.

  And on the stump before it, coated in snow, rested a blade in a sheath. A leafblade. Master Trinaden. The elf had come and gone silently. Like a knife in the dark. Perhaps he’d seen Rydel’s pain and didn’t want to disturb him. The thought was a distant comfort to Rydel’s cold heart—knowing Trinaden had seen Elisaria and would carry the news back to the Terma and her family.

  Rydel turned from the articles and went back to Elisaria’s body. Her corpse. He spent that night gathering twigs and branches of the proper size. Then he burned her body. Watching the flames flick at the snowy sky, he felt his heart break even further. The cold had no effect that his soul didn’t already feel. He watched for a long time. As he did, he had the image of Master Trinaden’s face that night and the single tear. He thought he understood. Finally, the flames died, and dawn came again. Then, out of the ashes, he spotted something. A glint of white. A stone. His stone. She’d held onto it. The paint was mostly burnt off and smeared, but a little had remained. Pulling it from the ash, he felt it between his thumb and forefinger. Then he pocketed the stone.

  Elisaria dead, his mother without his message, no one knew he was alive. What was he to do now? The raging fire inside him—the thing that gave him purpose and drove him relentlessly forward—was cold now, like a great hearth frozen over.

  Then he looked to the woods.

  Empty and alone, he moved to the bare tree and retrieved the cloak that was laden with snow. Shaking it free, he threw the grand cloak about his shoulder, covering his naked torso. As he did, the woods blended around him. Then he strapped and buckled the leafblade to his waist. The sword, the very object he had coveted all his life, now seemed only a trinket.

  Rydel laid the empty vial on the nearby ground and he remembered his master’s words: ‘the codes are all that matters.’ That was it. The vial had just been an excuse, a test for the true reward. The true prize and test had been the final code, and now it was a part of him.

  Sacrifice yourself, but never your soul—the code, the words thrummed through him.

  Rydel eyed the woods. His brothers had to have passed the test.

  They were out there still… That was why the Hidden Pool had abandoned him. And he remembered a declaration he had made a long time ago to two teary-eyed boys, “He was wrong. This is our home. We are brothers now and we will protect each other. I won’t let anything happen to you two.” Hadrian smiled and Dryan nodded. “I promise.”

  Dryan’s words still stung.

  “You think you’re better than me, and perhaps you are for now. But I will be stronger. One day, I will make you both tremble before me.”

  Worse, he knew his younger brother was right. Rydel had thought he was better deep down. That didn’t matter though. None of it mattered. Dryan was his brother, heart and soul, forged by a bond thicker than blood. They had to be alive and he would find them.

  All his life he’d had visions of this moment… The sword at his waist and cloak on his back—but he’d trade it all to have her again. At the least, he could vanquish the demons that did this. Vengeance wasn’t right, and it wouldn’t bring her back, but it was something. Live, she had said. He would, at least to save his brothers, to not let Dryan fall to darkness, and purge the woods of demons or anything that stood in his way.

  Then Rydel turned and walked away, into the woods.

  A Hidden.

  THE END

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