by Amanda Churi
“Inside!” Kaitlyn announced gruffly.
I shifted my spinning eyes away from Rebel as we approached a stone pillar which resembled a chimney, coming to a halt in front of it. Using her legs alone, Kaitlyn leaped onto the low wall of concrete, holding Laelia against her chest, who had not awoken throughout the entire ordeal. She stood on the edge with a high and mighty form, flicking her head towards the chimney and refusing to move until we did.
Mabel climbed up first, kneeling down and extending her arm to Griffin, who gratefully accepted her help. He rose, standing on the ledge for a moment and staring down at what I had yet to see before taking a nervous breath in and leaping down into the abyss, a muffled cry of fright echoing through the empty space as he fell.
Mabel cast her suspicious eyes towards Rebel, giving her a stern, threatening glare before turning to Kaitlyn. “Keep an eye on him,” she ordered gruffly, giving me one last worried glance before jumping in after Griffin.
Rebel leaped up onto the chimney just as Kaitlyn had, steadying herself momentarily and staring down into the expanse of black which fell straight down for as far as the eye could see—a hidden entrance that reminded me of the access point to Maeve’s stronghold.
“Hehe, hang on!” Rebel giggled as she propped me up in her arms, jumping off of the wall and down into the darkness below, the overwhelming speed causing what little of a hold I had left on reality to fly away, sending me spiraling towards an unknown destination with a broken body, a terrified mind, and, more than likely, an enemy at my hands.
Thirteen
The Dawn of Frost
Another week rolled across the land, the month of November deciding now was the time to retreat, allowing December to take a bold, lively step forward. The colorful leaves gave way to hues of brown and black, the mothers finally detaching themselves from their children and allowing them to litter the forest floor as they descended into hibernation, preparing for a new round of saplings and fruitful young ones. The sun gave itself more time to sleep and let the moon take on its duties, making the days short and cold.
Exactly what Reeve wanted.
She was far away from Phantome—a few days’ journey, but it was space that Reeve felt like she greatly needed.
She stood on the overhang of a cliff, staring across the ocean as her cold toes gripped the edge. Her sharp blue eyes did not yield their usual dominance; they seemed soft and considerate for a change as she watched the churning ocean waves and the moon rising above the soft, glossy waters. She could feel her spiritual presence becoming more solidified as the moon gave her the strength she yearned for, her crystalline dress clanking in the delicate breeze and illuminating the area around her.
Maeve was no longer a threat; neither her enemy nor the sword could be freed from the thick ice, and hence, the Receiver would never be able to reclaim her powers—and for some reason, this did not satisfy Reeve. She did not experience the surge of victory she expected; it had been there one second and vanished the next, leaving her puzzled. Many believed spirits did not have feelings, specifically those created from darkness. That was not entirely true. Reeve could most certainly feel hatred, despair, anger, and vengeance. What she shouldn’t have been able to experience were the feelings swirling within her imaginary heart: regret, guilt, and above all, doubt—doubt of herself and what she was doing.
Desmond was pushing for action. Winter would touch the Earth in a matter of weeks, and this was when they needed to act; during the day, and especially at night, Reeve’s power would be unmatchable. The thing that bothered Reeve, though, was that dominance was not what she had been created for. Her purpose was to destroy Maeve. Going further with her dark abilities? She really didn’t know…
She tucked her head into her chest, closing her eyes. Why… Why did she have these conflicted feelings? It actually scared her; this was the second time that she had witnessed shifting views in naturally dark embodiments. She could only hope that she would not suffer like they, who had given in.
“We should not advance, and you know it.”
Reeve slightly raised her head, beams of blue shooting through the sockets of the horse skull as she looked over her shoulder towards the tree line, surprised to see her Deceiver. Despite all of the abuse Tah had endured, she never ran off or really fought back. Seeing her take a real stand stunned Reeve.
“Where are Desmond and Orione?” Reeve asked simply.
“Patrolling,” Tah told her, folding her arms as she walked forward to stand alongside Reeve. For some strange reason, Reeve smiled, appreciating the presence of her second half.
Tah said nothing for a moment, looking over the drop-off and feeling the salty wind blow through her short hair. “You need to learn to let go,” Tah said in a hushed voice, though she did not meet her master’s eyes. “I came into this world the same time you did; it was a much different place.” She looked at Reeve, her face fixed straight. “You are not meant to be here, Reeve. Maeve died in the original past, and then you had no purpose, so you wandered the Earth until all memories of you faded, allowing yourself to vanish out of failure.” Tah scoffed scornfully, watching the ocean once more behind a pained face. Reeve said nothing, staring across the horizon with her.
“Calla changed your course,” Tah continued. “She needed a back-up plan in case the Nobles did lose; that is what I was, a spare, and for the longest time, I really did not know anything about myself. I could not remember; I could not even speak. It was not until after you saved me that, slowly, everything was coming back.” She paused before continuing.
“I was there; I watched you fight Maeve that fateful day, and… I did not know what happened. I could speak one minute, and the next, I could not make a sound. When he stepped in and thwarted… It was at that moment Maeve almost beat you, but not before you melted away into a shadow and retreated… Into me.”
Reeve sighed, knowing deep down that she should have listened and waited for a better opportunity to attack—then none of this would have happened. “You were a prime pick,” Reeve stated. “No speech would make you unable to resist, to cry—to tell the others that something was wrong, giving me a chance to regain my strength. By merging with you, I would not be hunted; I could peacefully rest and search for Maeve once more, and she would not realize it was me.” She paused. “I suppose that I wouldn’t have done that if you could talk, but your vulnerability made you the perfect puppet until I found Maeve. And your heart, like it or not, was very similar to my own. I sensed the jealousy of those around you; you felt as though you were nobody special—you wanted to be noticed by your peers. You wanted to be strong; you wanted to be something.” She finally looked Tah’s way, who could not help but cast a side glance at her master. “And I did too. Being an outcast is no fun.”
Tah said nothing for a moment, frowning. “Why do you even need me anymore…? You are here, and you beat your rival. Just let me go.”
Reeve chuckled. “And let you cause a ruckus and ruin my plans? Please, I have witnessed enough betrayal; I’m not going to let it happen again. Besides, even if I trusted you, it’s too risky. When I merged with you, I formed an unbreakable bond in return for regaining my entirety—my soul and powers—and I can’t have you going off and hurting yourself, dragging me down in the process.” She scoffed. “A stupid, not well thought out, consequence on my part, but it’s water under the bridge now so long as I get what I want in the end and revel in glory at least once.”
“But is that really what you want…?” Tah pressed quietly.
Reeve raised an eye to her. “Hm?”
“Reeve, Calla took my voice. She needed not only a worthless child to cover the timeline, but one strong enough that you could reside in. Taking my speech… That was the ultimate bait for you—the only way to tear you from your home and drag you into a foreign time. I do not know how exactly, but Calla said if I stayed there, I would have been killed… And you would have vanished after many years.”
“She took you solely becau
se of your capabilities,” Reeve corrected. “That whole ‘worthless child’ bit is complete shit. She picked those who she did because she knew of their pasts, their coming demises, and their inner flame. It was the perfect cover-up for a rather simple spell.”
Tah’s eyes widened with interest, urging her to continue, which Reeve did. “The spell required only six people at a time,” she lectured. “It could be performed as many times as pleased. Literally, the spell was made to give people a second chance at life. Six people had to be bound, each far enough apart to cover a large span of the timeline, and it allowed them to stand against the space-time continuum if in fact it was altered. Calla knew the risks; she knew the future would not be saved. She only performed the spell at the discretion of Azuré to secure Eero’s position, along with the Noble higher-ups.”
“…So… The future then?” Tah stammered.
Reeve shrugged. “Don’t know, but it probably is anything but the same. I’ll admit, they’re all on my shit list, but even for me, that is a cruel, terrible punishment, especially for those two stragglers who got sucked into this.” She sighed. “Enough. Care to tell me what you were hinting at?”
Tah looked very reluctant to speak whatever was on her mind. She averted her eyes from Reeve, smirking desperately as she watched the fierce waves from the ocean below throw themselves at the sharpened bluff. “We should have been dead thousands of years ago,” Tah whispered into the breeze, tempted. “If we end this now… Maybe we can put a stop to this… I mean, we do not need to make the future more difficult for them… Right?”
Immediately, Reeve took a sharp step back, snapping her eyes to Tah in disbelief, who continued to smile. A numb feeling crept through her spiritual body, frantic upon knowing just what Tah had on her mind. This child, usually so quiet and timid, actually considering taking her own life to stop her?
Reeve frowned. She may have been having doubts, but not ones nearly strong enough to fully consider abandoning her mission.
“Deceiver,” Reeve demanded through a disgusted frown.
Tah did not answer. Her eyes were one with the sea, her heart racing as she envied the waters for their freedom.
A furious growl flew through Reeve’s clenched teeth, her hand locking around Tah’s wrist and yanking the child towards her body so that she was away from the ledge and looking into Reeve’s elaborate irises. Tah did not flinch, unintimidated, and that only angered Reeve more.
“You listen to me,” Reeve hissed. “Whatever you have in your head, get rid of it. This is your new life.” She grabbed Tah’s face with her opposite hand, squeezing her cheeks so that she made sure Tah paid attention. “The world stacked the odds against us from day one, and no matter what conflictions I may have within, they deserve the pain we will bring them. If you do anything, if I even suspect that you are trying to undermine me, I will make you regret it.”
“Reeve!”
The ice spirit rotated her eyes slightly in the direction of the tree line, surprised when she saw Desmond racing towards her, Orione following calmly behind and bathing the forest in a curtain of blue.
Composing herself, Reeve roughly released Tah, dragging her sharp nails across both Tah’s wrist and face to reinforce the promise behind her words. Tah winced, jerking away from Reeve before she could cause her more discomfort.
Desmond came to a halt before the two girls, Orione casually coming to a pause beside him, expressionless as usual. Desmond was not; his eyes quickly searched Tah’s as she buried them in the earth before scanning Reeve suspiciously. “Did I miss something?”
“No,” Reeve lied bluntly. “We were just having a little discussion. What has you up, because I swear, if I hear you complaining about your lack of precious mortal sleep tomorrow—”
“One, I won’t,” he interrupted. “Two, while I’m not a mortal, I’m not the same as a fidgety Returned, so calm down. Three…” His voice trailed away, and he looked at Orione, smirking. “We came up with a plan.”
Reeve’s interest spiked. “A plan?”
Desmond nodded, queuing Orione with a raised eye who immediately tossed a large, deceased rat onto the ground, which neither female had noticed. The group stared down in silence for a moment before Reeve doubtfully looked up at her human companion. “Are you feeling alright…?”
“Never better!” Desmond chuckled heartily. He pointed to the rat. “That… That is what we will use.”
“Rats?” Tah spoke up, her voice cracking.
“Desmond, you’ve truly lost it,” Reeve reprimanded. “How does this aid us in our cause whatsoever?”
Desmond smirked, the shadows of the night dancing beneath his lips and eyes in recognition to the terrible plan he had concocted.
“Let me play a little bit of a game with you,” he began casually, though none could ignore the ravenous smile on his face, hungry for casualties and power. “Why are we out here? Far away from Phantome in this cold, simply waiting for something? Why aren’t we attacking?”
If Desmond was trying to make Reeve feel guilty about her decisions, it definitely did not have the desired effect. “Because we stand at four,” she answered confidently, throwing a cruel blue glare to her side at Tah. “Technically three… Our army would not stand a chance in battle at the moment; we need time to prepare.”
“Exactly,” Desmond agreed. “Allies are our largest weakness, and even though you are immune to all mortal damage as a spirit, Orione, I, and your Deceiver are not. We need numbers to take Phantome for ourselves, and that is something we sadly do not have.”
“Well, what do you want us to do?” Reeve implored. “Kevin has made a fine young ruler, and he knows of our existence; he will be preparing for our attack when we strike. The civilians also like him; they won’t be lining up to oppose their king at the raise of a finger.”
A rhetorical glint flashed in Desmond’s dark eyes. “Or will they?”
“Pretty sure not,” Reeve scoffed.
“Oh, I beg to differ.” He crouched down, drawing a single line in the cold dirt with his fingers. He labeled one side of the line with an “R” and pointed to it. “Phantome is composed of two types of people: the Returned and the mortals. We all know that the town is accepting of the Returned, and Queen Lucy, being a Returned herself, only further ensures their safety. This is our issue; the two groups are bound together, but what if we were to divide them? Cause a war within the town itself?
“Creeping about the premises of Europe at the moment is a terrible sickness,” he continued. “It kills nearly all whom it touches, and as I learned from my history lessons in the future, this region is due to be struck in a matter of weeks, and no one is safe.” He smirked darkly. “Not yet…”
He drew a circle around the “R” with his fingers. “The Returned are not normal, despite their appearance.” He looked up at Reeve, who could not tear her interested eyes away from the diagram. “Reeve,” Desmond acknowledged. “You are a spirit yourself. What is an Eyla, exactly?”
“An Eyla?” she questioned. “It’s a soul which has lost its way to Heaven or Hell upon death. They roam the grounds in a never-ending search to find a way to one world so that they do not roam aimlessly for the rest of time—it often means residing in supernaturals and becoming their second side, which is triggered in times of danger.”
“And why is this?” he pressed.
“To keep their host from dying and their soul from losing its way once more,” she answered, quite confused by the random trivia. “A natural death is preferable because it offers the least chance of interference on their journey either above or below.”
Desmond lowered his head. “The bodies of those gone, restored and reclaimed…” he began ominously. “Their memories retained, but their souls reprobate—random Eyla from the woods who lost their body and path so long ago, taking refuge in the first empty one they could find—Eyla, might I add, which tend to be very vengeful for failing to find the world their soul was intended for. The Eyla activates inside
of the supernatural, bringing forth their most powerful, aggressive state in times of need; the Returned are nothing but bodies with a raging spirit in place of the soul—a presence which, in the end, wants nothing but to survive and will do anything to prevent the loss of its host.
“The higher the risk of destruction becomes, much like in a supernatural, the more the Eyla awakens—fights to make sure it does not lose the battle this time around. Many of the Returned have families that they have been reunited with, which has kept their Eyla content, but if their loved ones start falling and they do not, what will they do?
“They shall become enraged,” Desmond ranted on. “They will look for the first thing to pin their grief on, and like all rulers, we can bet that Kevin will get a terrible whiplash from the community, urging for him to do something when, in reality, he has no control. Trust shall diminish in the young ruler, and then questions will be raised as to if he was the cause.”
“No,” Reeve interrupted. “That’s a fatal error, Desmond. I am composed of vengeance; they would not just up and assume that he was to blame for a plague.”
“Yes, they would,” he argued. “Especially when they realize their kingdom happens to not only be under the rule of one Returned but two.”
Two…? Tah thought in disbelief. How?
Desmond could sense the child’s confusion simply by her broad eyes. He smiled mischievously. “You saw me shoot down that damned sorcerer,” he told her. “He shouldn’t have been able to survive such an attack with my weapons; in fact, he couldn’t have.”
“He does not possess the symbol,” Reeve objected. “All Returned have a marking, yet he does not. He cannot be a Returned.”
“The symbol was upon their skin at revival,” Desmond snapped, defiantly staring down Reeve. “But Kevin… He is the only supernatural to have come back that we know of. Who is to say that he would not be affected differently, especially since his body was created to hold an extra soul, an Eyla, in the first place?”