Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty Nine
The smell was atrocious, bad enough to set all of our nerves on end.
It clung to everything–our torn tents, our clothes, our skin.
No matter how many times we wiped down our bodies or Roan used his blessed magic to try and wash it away, it remained.
None of us said much as we packed what little hadn’t been destroyed.
Some of my herbs had been spared, but not nearly enough.
By the time the sky began to lighten and daylight filtered weakly through the dense canopy, we were moving again.
The forest practically swallowed us whole.
Snow crunched beneath our boots too loud in the silence that had fallen over us. No one spoke of what they saw in their night terrors and none asked. What was there to say?
Kairen took the lead, but not alone. Bran stayed just off his shoulder, eyes sweeping the trees in case something lunged from the shadows—his fathers sword resting against his shoulder though his grip hadn’t loosened on it for hours now.
Rena and I followed, pressed close as Roan took the rear.
The formation was tighter than usual, none of the casual playfulness we’d had at the start of our quest. A system that was designed more from instinct than instruction. No gaps, no stragglers.
I kept my daggers out.
The weight of them felt heavier, hours of gripping them too tightly finally weighing down on my tired muscles. My hands hadn’t stopped trembling since the fight.
“Keep up.” Kairen’s voice cut through the quiet, low and tense.
My head snapped up, grey eyes narrowing on his back. “We are.”
He didn’t turn around as he said, "You're dragging.”
Rena gave a low sigh, “We’re tired, Kai. Maybe we should take a break.”
“We’re all tired, but we keep moving. We don’t stop until the sun goes down, I want to cover as much ground as possible. Put as much space between us and those—” His words cut off sharply, his head shaking.
Irritation flashed through me, sharp and hot. My chest burning with it.
Bran, ever the peace maker, let out a quiet breath. “Guys, come on. Let’s save the anger for when something is actively trying to kill us again, okay?”
Roan snorted from behind me, “Pretending like we’re all okay right now, isn’t helping anything either.”
“No one is pretending anything.” Kairen’s voice was flat, final.
An edge of something sharper lingered in it though, flames dancing across his knuckles.
His control was slipping, his own exhaustion and fear shining through for a brief moment.
“But stopping too soon isn’t going to do any good either, we keep going. ”
We all fell silent once more.
A hand brushed against the small of my back. My body tensed as he leaned forward, voice quiet. “How you holding up?”
My head turned to catch his gaze and for half a second it wasn’t him that I saw. Burnt flesh. Blistered skin. Shadows spilling from lips that I had already memorized the feel of against my own. My breath hitched, stomach twisting as I turned to face forward once more.
“I’m okay, you?” My voice came too tense, tight. A lie. He’d know it immediately.
He was silent for a long moment before he spoke again, rougher, “Bullshit. None of us are. You need Rena to check out your shoulder? You keep rubbing it.”
It throbbed viciously from my fall during the fight, but the pain was the only thing currently keeping me from breaking.
My head shook and he didn’t speak again. The only sound was the crunching of our boots in the snow once more.
It took a week to reach where the wild wood met the base of the towering northern mountains, the jagged peaks so high they were lost among the clouds high above.
A week of torturous travel, the freezing weather the least of any of our concerns.
Every night was filled with the fear that those creatures, the dread feeders, would reappear to wreak havoc upon our minds once more.
Every breaking of a twig, every rustle of the trees had me waking, my breath catching with fright.
None of the others appeared to fare much better.
The shadows constantly danced on the edges of my mind, a hissing melody that I could never ignore. Over and over they sang that the time was drawing near, that I must release some of the blessed magic that was a turmoil within my blood.
But I couldn’t.
Couldn’t wander from the light of the fire or sneak away to release the inky tendrils and let them breathe. It was pure torture. It was making me restless, near feverish with its intensity.
I knew we were close to our destination. Could feel the pull of the sea where a break in the mountains allowed it to rush and rage against the jagged fjords. Another day and perhaps we’d reach it.
And I prayed, so desperately, that we would find what we needed. That this quest would end.
I was tired, past the point of exhaustion.
Even as we set camp for the night, the fire burning bright as the sun slowly dropped from the sky, my body begged for respite.
Bran approached me as I sipped the warm broth that made our supper for the night, foregoing the dried meat that floated within. We had long since ran out of anything fresh. His eyes danced over my face, sullen and worried. “You don’t look well.”
My brow rose. “None of us do.”
His lips pursed as he shifted in the snow, his shoulder nudging mine as he gave me a knowing gaze. “True enough, but you, my dearest friend, have that look again.”
My nails cut into the flesh of my palms, my gloves forgotten upon the snow littered ground. My voice came harsh. “What, that of a ghost?”
Bran was quiet for a long moment before a sigh came, weary and concerned. “Sy, I—”
“Forget it.” I snapped, eyes fixed to the fire. “I don’t want to speak of it, Bran.”
“Have you spoken to him at all since—”
“I said to forget it!” The words were too loud, too harsh. I regretted it instantly, but the apology stuck in my throat. The already quiet camp went utterly silent as the words echoed through the trees.
He didn’t leave, didn’t even flinch, though my ears rang with the rage melded into every syllable I had spat at him.
Bran didn’t balk, didn’t falter. He never had, he simply unfurled the blanket in his hands and placed it gently around our shoulders, his touch so light as he placed a hand over my trembling shoulder.
My lip quivered, teeth sinking into it as I shook my head and swallowed thickly.
“Come here, Sy.” He murmured softly, drawing me close.
He tucked me easily beneath his chin, humming lightly as he rubbed soothing circles upon my back.
“It’s okay to let it out. No one here will say a thing after, and if they do, I’ll cut out their tongues and feed them to those awful dread feeders. ”
My laugh was breathy and strained as silent tears fell. Burying my face into his shirt, I clung to him as I shook with the grief, fear, and the exhaustion that had plagued me now for days. The things that had turned me into a husk of who and what I was.
I hated grief. I hated that every time I thought I could move forward, that I could finally heal, it pulled me back to drown in its misery once more.
His body rocked lightly, as though I was a child to soothe to sleep. “Burying it down does no good, it only harms you. Let it out now.”
A strangled sob escaped. How many times had he said that to me, how many times now had I not listened?
“I—I saw her,” I cried and he nodded, no explanation needed. He knew exactly what I meant, always did.
“I know, I saw him too.” He murmured back, arms tightening around me. His father, he must’ve seen his father. My arms circled his waist, hugging tight.
We sat there for minutes or hours, I couldn’t tell. I don’t know when the others had left to their tents to lend us privacy, but they did. Only Roan remained, his back to the stump of a tree as he sat guard, his gaze fixed to the wild woods. Bran saw where my gaze went and nudged me gently.
“Go,” he urged. “It’s been days since you’ve spoken more than two words to anyone. I’m sure he’s worried.”
My hesitation must have been evident because he tilted my face up to his, wiping away the tears that streaked my cold cheeks. “Allow yourself to be happy for once, Sy. I can only guess what your terrors showed you that night, but don’t let them take anything else from you.”
A breath released and then I nodded. He smiled, soft and proud before nudging me once more. I stood, wiping the snow from my pants as I made my way to Roan.
Green and silver found me immediately as I approached and he offered a small smile as he shifted to make room. “Hey there.”
“Hi.” My voice was soft as I gingerly sat and leaned my back to the trunk. “Are you doing okay?”
He glanced at me and I expected some quip alluding to the fact that he should be asking me that, but he merely shook his head. “I think we’re all struggling with what we saw that night.”
“You were in mine,” I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them, my eyes shuttering on a shaky exhale. “Part of it, at least. I thought I had woken and had stumbled from the tent and you were there. Even in the terror you smelled of cedar and the rain, but…”
My voice trailed off, unable to finish.
“It wasn’t over,” he supplied softly, and I nodded. “You were in mine too.”
“I was?” I asked.
He drew his knees to his chest, arms resting atop them as he leaned his head back against the trunk.
“They tied you to the stake because of me. Over and over they said your fate was to burn and that it was my fault. Every time I tried to get to you he was there. The King. They forced me to watch your skin melt from your bones, your screams worse even then they had been in that tent after Kairen—”
His voice broke then, hands clenching his knees. Grief was a selfish, personal thing. Our suffering was our own, hidden and locked deep within, until it wasn’t. Until it couldn’t be contained and flowed and poured over, vast and all-consuming.
I shifted closer and his arm lifted, pulling me into him, his lips pressing to my hair.
Let him see the darkness that consumes your soul. See if he will tie you to the stake before your heart is to break.
“Roan I—”
My eyes closed, the words so close yet so far. Goddess, I wanted so badly to tell him. To lay myself bare and let it be, let him condemn or set me free.
“You what?” He whispered back, fingers brushing my shoulder.
Bran and Merle. The two people who had kept my secret hidden for fourteen years now. If he rejected me, if he exposed my secrets, it wouldn’t just be me who suffered the consequences.
“I’m just grateful for you, that's all.” I said instead, lacing a cold hand with his. “I feel like I lost my childhood to grief and guilt. Even now the idea of safety or happiness still sometimes feels like a threat. Thank you for being patient with me.”
His smile was warm as he said, “Whatever you need, I’ll happily give.”