29. Time’s Running Out
Chapter 29
Time’s Running Out
T hroat closing with each breath, Elnok stared into the darkness of the hollow tree.
A dying tree. A dying man. A dying land.
It was familiar—the stench, the dread, the way his heart slowed and breaths fought in and out of his lungs. He wanted out of his clothes. Everything was so feverishly hot, like he was wrapped in a cloth made of flames.
A warm glow, like the torches from Vutror’s castle, slid down the tree’s bark. He could see the dust-paned windows, the thick curtains of his parent’s bedroom, the large oak bed as the guards allowed him to enter.
“ Morning, sleepyheads, ” he’d said with a wide smile, carrying a cup of rose tea in his mother’s favorite black teacup. “Don’t tell me you both forgot we’d planned to go out to the dried gardens to celebrate Tosh’s birthday today?”
Neither of them moved.
“Mother? Father?”
Still, nothing. Elnok’s lungs squeezed.
Heart slowing, he removed the thick comforter. Black porcelain shattered onto the stone floor as Elnok stumbled backwards. Two necks bleeding deep crimson, dried blood covering the white sheets and blending with the maroon comforter. He meant to yell for the guards, but he couldn’t speak, wheezing too much, lungs unable to hold any air.
Vacant eyes. Pallid lips. The faces of his dead parents staring into the heavens. The bright hazel of his mother’s eyes blown out like a candle.
“Elnok?” Tosh’s warm voice sounded from the door as guards rushed in. “ What’s the meaning of this?”
Another glass shattered on the floor.
He turned to Tosh, his brother’s green eyes wide, his body trembling. Guards yelled as they swarmed the bed. Elnok backed up until he slammed himself against the wall, clawing at his face.
“No.” Tosh choked. “Elnok, how?”
Shaking his head, Elnok slumped to the floor, unable to form words.
“Elnok…” Tosh held onto the large doors as his legs gave out. “This… this wasn’t you, was it?”
Elnok whipped his head to his brother. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The guards didn’t know. You came in and now… now they’re…” His brother’s eye twitched. “They’re dead.”
“How can you even suggest that?” Elnok yelled, returning to his feet. “What’s wrong with you?”
He shoved past him, sprinting down the hallway, his mother’s blank hazel eyes haunting him as he ran until hot, scorching sun coated his skin, burning his neck as he ran through the dusty, cobblestone streets.
Suddenly, darkness swallowed the sun, its heat gutted into cold, damp stone walls, a single flame burning in the corner. Heavy chains dug into his wrists, blood dripping from his chapped lips as he scrambled away from Tosh.
“You killed them.” Tosh whispered, the iron rod’s tip a glowing ember, a wine bottle in his other hand. “And you’re going to kill me, aren’t you? You’re going to slit my neck and take the Crown for yourself, aren’t you?”
“Tosh, just listen to me!” Elnok begged. “The guards confirmed the windows had been tampered with. Someone, or maybe multiple people, broke in and killed them. I don’t know how they got past the guards outside, but I didn’t kill our parents and I’m not going to kill you. I don’t even want the fucking Crown?—”
“Liar!”
Skin searing with flames, Elnok yelled into the darkness as his brother’s green eyes spilled over with tears. Their voices echoed against the stone walls as they both cried for their mother and father.
Breaths labored, heart slowing down until he only had a few beats left, the memory faded into poison black as ink. He’d wanted death all those years ago… maybe this would finally bring him the peace he’d been reaching for ever since his escape.
Maybe, all this time, he’d still wanted to die.
“By Aretta’s blood,” someone’s deep voice echoed somewhere far away from his burning flesh, “He’s almost gone, Sylzenya.”
“Then pick him up and run, Kharis. We’re making it to that tree.”
That voice. Her voice. He wheezed a deep breath. He couldn’t control himself as tears spilled from his eyes.
Sylzenya.
She’d survived. She’d survived and somehow turned Kharis. Her plan had worked. And just as he’d accepted his death, Sylzenya showed up in time, just like Orym.
The flames in his back ebbed as her familiar touch ran across his numbing face. She whispered words he couldn’t understand, his reinvigorated will to live causing his lungs to burn and heart to beat faster; it took every ounce of will to just breathe. Pain, pain, pain. But he wanted to live, godsdamnit—for the first time in his life, he wanted to fucking live .
He wanted to see her face, kiss her lips, fuck her breathless. He wanted to adventure across every sea until they’d drunk all the salt and travel through every piece of land until she had filled them with flowers. Life amidst death. Laughter amongst tears. He wanted to experience it all, and he wanted to do it with her.
“The compass is still pointing east, but it looks like it’s shaking,” she said, her breath brushing his ear as Kharis’ strong arms hoisted Elnok from the ground, “What if it’s about to change locations?”
“Then we make it before it does,” Kharis responded, “I’ll carry him, and you hang onto me. Elnok, this is probably going to hurt.”
He meant to tell him there was nothing to hold, especially since his arms were shit, but all he could manage to spit out of his numb mouth was:
“ You fucker. ”
Kharis sighed. “I’m sorry. I was supposed to help you find this tree, and I was supposed to protect you, but I failed.”
“You’re just like him,” he wheezed.
Just like his brother.
Kharis’ mouth opened, but he said nothing.
“You two can fight all you want when we’ve gotten to the tree, alright?” Sylzenya interrupted, “We have to go, now , Kharis.”
Elnok didn’t think his skin could feel any hotter until Kharis’ veins glowed gold. Gritting his teeth, Kharis whispered another apology as he grabbed Sylzenya’s arm and dashed forward. Elnok’s stomach dropped, muscles screaming in pain. Air rushed past him, slapping his face and rushing into his lungs as he choked on his own saliva. Dark trees blurred past them as if they were strokes of black paint on canvas, monster growls and chitters coming and going; they wouldn’t have a chance to attack with Kharis’ speed.
“ There! ” Sylzenya yelled above the whooshing of air.
Craning his neck, Elnok’s blurred vision distinguished a ball of light in the distance—yellow and sparkling.
Glinting in and out of existence, like a star about to leave the night sky.
“ Faster, Kharis! ” Sylzenya screamed.
Elnok fought down gulps of air, Kharis panting and chest heaving as they rushed towards the magical willow, the distance closing. Its glow faded in and out, in and out?—
“ Come on! ” she cried.
Elnok fought for another breath.
“ I can’t go any faster! ” Kharis yelled back.
Another yellow light glowed, and Elnok’s stomach flipped over a second and third time. Sylzenya screamed, her eyes glowing and her veins crackling like lightning as she ran with him.
Powerful. Beautiful.
A true goddess.
Aretta’s Willow flickered for another moment, then it faded into the darkness.
“ No! ” Sylzenya and Kharis yelled. They stopped, the air flat and smelling of rotten flesh. Coughing blood and poison onto the ground, Elnok’s heart sank.
This would be it, then. He looked towards Sylzenya, her face covered in dirt, blood, and tears. Those beautiful dark blue eyes so like the ocean. He wanted to tell her she would be alright, they’d find the tree without him. She had Kharis to help kill Distrathrus, and if anyone could do it, they would.
“Syl,” he wheezed, “Sylzenya?—”
A golden light flashed before them. Elnok shut his eyes, the light so oppressive it burned his vision. Air rushed into his face again as Kharis dashed forward. The smell of rotten flesh vanished. Everything felt cool, as if fresh, chilled water had doused the flames in his body.
Opening his eyes, Elnok gasped. Gold sunshine filtered through green leaves while butterflies and birds fluttered over a field of flowers. A woman with bright hazel eyes and hair black as night stared at him.
A woman he hadn’t seen in ten long years.
“Welcome, Elnok Rogdul of Vutror.” His mother smiled. “You’ve made it just in time.”
Sorrow, confusion, and relief welled inside him as she waved a hand over his face; he fell into a deep sleep.
Sucking in a long breath, Elnok woke. Sunlight burned his eyes. Memories of his mother floated in his head, her gentle hands pressed on his chest, a strange prayer chanting into the golden air, butterflies fluttering along her white robes.
A dream.
“This is no dream, Elnok Rogdul,” his mother’s familiar voice assured.
Sitting up, he gripped his chest. Bright hazel eyes stared deeply into his, the crinkles deepening around her mouth as she smiled.
“Mother?” Elnok whispered, a sob crawling up the back of his throat, “Did I die?”
His voice surprised him. Small, like a child.
“You’re very much alive, especially now that the poison has been extracted,” she replied, “But I’m not your true mother. I’m Aretta—the goddess of life.”
Elnok gulped, his chest twisting, confusion pulling at his mind.
She continued, “As the goddess of life, I appear as the one who gave life to you.”
He stared long and hard at her, the details so exact and precise he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to believe her. He wasn’t sure if he should embrace her or run.
“Where are Sylzenya and Kharis?” he inquired.
She waved her hand, motioning behind him, her long white robes flowing like water. He turned, a meadow full of red and yellow flowers rested among a willow grove. It looked endless—unchanging.
The light wasn’t from the sun, rather, it was everywhere. No horizon in sight, as if a wall erected of light circled them. Rivers of gold flowed from ground to sky. Yet there was no sky, only more pulsing light. Gray and white birds flew through the air, their songs filling the space as they landed among the willows and rested in the meadow.
Kharis sat leaning against a tree, hair falling to his chest, leather armor tattered, his belly slowly heaving up and down. Next to him, Sylzenya also slept. She was sprawled among the flowers, the reds and yellows framing her dirtied and bloodied face. Her white robes were ripped apart, barely covering her body, and her hair was muddied. A sudden urge to touch her skin overwhelmed him, needing to know she was safe. He tried to stand up, only for a sharp pain to run along his chest.
The arachni bite.
“Careful,” Aretta spoke softly, gripping his arm and guiding him back to the meadow floor, “You’re still healing, and they need to rest. All of you do.”
“Where are we?” Elnok whispered.
“My prison of paradise. My willow.”
Fighting to find words, he turned to his mother—the goddess—and gripped the green grass poking into his skin.
“We made it?” he checked. “We made it to Aretta’s Willow?”
She nodded. “You three are the first to have found it.”
Elnok’s uncertainty transformed into hysterical laughter as he looked up into the sky, the glowing walls, realizing it was the bark of a tree.
They were inside the magical willow.
“Oh my gods,” he whispered, smiling wide, “ We did it . I honestly thought it was just a figment of legend. But, I… I need medicine for my friend, Orym. I’m not sure how to ask for this, but, I was told you have the cure.”
“Elnok Rogdul, you barely survived arachni poison, and now you wish to get onto business? Please, let’s take a few moments to breathe before we jump into why I ushered you three here.”
“Ushered us?” Elnok laughed. “You make it sound like you handpicked us or some bullshit.”
Bird song filled the silence.
“And what if I did?”
He furrowed his brow, turning to her, the picture of his mother difficult to reconcile as a centuries-old goddess.
“You said it yourself—you’ve been trapped here,” Elnok replied, “We all had our own agendas for finding your tree. You didn’t do any of that.”
Lacing her hands behind her back, she stared past Elnok—towards Sylzenya—in silence.
“I’m here for Orym’s medicine, that’s it,” he said, “He doesn’t have long to live, so I don’t have long to sit here and discuss things with you.”
Aretta sighed. “I understand this was your main goal, but we have a far more dire situation at play than your sick frien?—”
“I’m going to get him healed and then get off of this damned continent you and your brother ruined.”
“I am a goddess. How dare you speak to me like this?”
Elnok scoffed. “A goddess trapped in a fucking tree .”
The birds stopped their songs. The breeze, which Elnok hadn’t noticed until now, stopped brushing his hair across his face.
“Nothing will save you from my brother’s wrath,” she said carefully.
“You’d certainly like me to think that, don’t you? Get me caught up in your little war like you’ve done to this kingdom? I came here for Orym. I was told you had his cure and…” He took a deep breath, realizing bartering with a goddess was a poor time to not wear a mask, even if she was trapped in a magical tree. “Please, it’s the only reason why I came to Estea in the first place.”
She sighed, kneeling next to him. “I know your heartaches, Elnok. Your brother, your parents, the damage it’s caused you. But you need to know the truth of what actually happened.”
“Unless the truth can bring them back, then it doesn’t matter. They’re dead, end of story.”
“Your brother isn’t.”
“He is to me,” he argued. “I’m not here for an explanation about my family history, who did what or why. And I’m not a part of your fight.”
“But you are,” she replied. “Elnok, it was Distrathrus who warped your brother’s mind. It was his wine—his blood.”
Elnok’s heart raced, his hands clammy as he crawled backwards, away from her touch. Sharp pain sliced into his neck. Of course it’d been Distrathrus. He’d been too busy trying not to die to fully accept it.
She shook her head, “But that’s only the start.”
“I don’t need to know,” Elnok sneered. “Besides, weren’t you the one supposed to destroy your brother? Be the savior of this world? So, in reality, I should be blaming you for my brother’s crazed state.”
Aretta’s nose flared.
He continued anyways, “Orym has less than two days, maybe even less than a day until he’s dead.”
“What of Sylzenya?” she pushed.
“What about her?” Even as he said the words, something in his chest twisted. He’d made it this far, was this close to getting Orym’s medicine, and he’d do anything to retrieve it. Just because he’d imagined a life with Sylzenya— wanted a life with her—didn’t mean he could have it.
Not if it meant sacrificing Orym’s life in the process.
“I thought you cared for the woman?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“ Fool .” She shook her head. “Wasn’t Orym the one who told you that, even if you find medicine, he wouldn’t take it unless you had enough for everyone? I don’t have the power to heal all your people, and you knew this. So why come all this way knowing it would amount to nothing but his inevitable death?”
“You know, I really don’t appreciate how much interest you seem to have taken in my life while being caged in this paradise of yours,” he growled. “Orym will take the medicine, even if I have to force him.”
“I’m sure that will go well,” she retorted, “but you’re avoiding my question, Elnok. Why are you really here?”
“I already told you?—”
“If I’m going to give you the medicine, you need to be honest with not just me, but yourself. Why are you here, Elnok Rogdul of Vutror?”
Rage and sorrow collided into him like a fresh storm off the coast, lightning and thunder raging all around him, his brother’s face cast in shadow as the waves crashed over Elnok, tasting like dark putrid wine.
“Because I’m not going to lose Orym like I lost my brother!”
Fresh tears ran down his face. The goddess’ face—his mother’s face—stared at him unflinchingly.
“Since you seem to know everything , then you already know I’ve lost everyone I ever loved,” he said, his salty tears thick on his tongue, “and I won’t lose anyone else.”
He stared into the face of the woman who had sung nighttime lullabies, tended to his cuts and scrapes, and taught him that, in order to be a decent human, he needed to be there for those who needed him most.
He’d failed his brother.
He wasn’t going to fail Orym too.
Aretta pressed her palm to the grass, her eyes fluttering shut as golden light sprung from the ground, circling around her arms the same way it did to Sylzenya. But unlike Sylzenya, there was no cut sliced into Aretta’s back. As she pulled her hand from the ground, a glowing glass vial formed out of the earth, the contents a bright white.
The magic vanished as she opened her eyes.
“Have your friend drink this, and he’ll be healed,” Aretta said, “But first, you, Sylzenya, and Kharis are going to hear what I have to say.”
Elnok grasped for the vial, but it vanished from her hand. He’d found it—Orym’s medicine—and he still couldn’t have it.
“I’m not joining in your sibling fight.”
“And you don’t have to,” she replied, kneeling next to Sylzenya, “but I doubt you want to go through the forest without these two.”
Elnok couldn’t refute that statement. The goddess used magic to wake up Sylzenya, the golden light highlighting her face, her dark-blue eyes deep and full as she opened them. Before he met her stare, a gaze that would surely be his undoing, he reminded himself why he came here.
He couldn’t stay, no matter how badly he wished to.
Even if he was falling in love with Sylzneya, because he had no doubt that’s what this was, he needed to save Orym, return to his crew, and get them off this continent before Distrathrus could take more from him than he already did.
Elnok wasn’t a hero, and he certainly didn’t plan to become one now.