Chapter Forty-Four
Fallyn
Greylark Rest was a ridiculous name for the mist- drenched city.
Not only was it absolutely massive—second only to the sprawling capitol Ipsilon—but I doubted anybody here ever slept.
The walls keeping out monsters were so high I thought they must brush the sky above, but the traditional white and black towers within boasted spires that disappeared into the gathering storm clouds, giving it the illusion of going up forever.
Towering monoliths carved directly into the mountains outside of the city created a holy place to worship the old divine.
The likeness of Hades, Zeus, and Poseidon were immortalized, forever looking down over the city, moss covered and ever-looming like ancient guardians.
Father said once that it had taken over a century to carve, and craning my neck to take it all in, I believed it.
I’d been here once as a child; my father brought me with him to obtain some rare, lucrative materials to forge his weapons, but I realized only now how little my child mind had remembered.
The city was built uphill—if the one who designed this city were still alive, I’d kill them myself.
As it were, I could only hope that there was a special place in the Morningstar’s Hell for him—in the most treacherous lower levels of it ideally.
Or if he prayed to Hades, to Tartarus with him.
My legs were screaming after only ten minutes of meandering through the busy streets, leaden with pedestrian traffic and the heavy rumble of horse or oxen-drawn carts. Ash had the audacity to not only not be out of breath but at least had the good sense to bite his lip to hide his amusement.
“It’s too late in the afternoon to warrant leaving. We’ll reach Moonfall by late afternoon tomorrow. So,” He gestured to the massive city that awaited us. “What would you like to do?”
“Do? What do you mean?”
Ash scoffed. “You don’t think we’re not going to have a little fun while were here, do you?
” He leaned in close, closer than really necessary.
Close enough to breathe in his far too addictive smoky, musky scent.
“There’s all sorts of debauchery to be had in a place like this.
So little shadow, what’s your poison? Gambling?
Dancing? Drinking? Starting fights for no reason?
I feel like that last one was close.” I smiled at him, feigning innocence.
"After dealing with you for the past week and a half, I think I've more than earned a drink. At your expense, I might add."
“Good to see you do know how to let your hair down occasionally." Ash shoved his grin down, but couldn't smother it completely, "Let's go find a place.”
Not for the first time, I pulled my sleeves down over the crest of my knuckles, the wide-eyed stare of a mother and her young child at my blackening hand bringing a shallow tightness to my chest. I tightened my lips and glanced away as if I hadn’t seen them.
The market was teeming with people. Most didn't pay us a second thought as we wound through the merchant stalls glimpsing wares that ranged from simple spices to love potions from a female who claimed to be blessed by Aphrodite herself.
It was the small moments where I fingered a piece of jewelry or the supple leather of new boots that people stared.
They weren’t gawking, not exactly. But it left me leaving the vestibule with a heaviness in my chest. I knew that the curse touch wasn’t exactly a common thing, but it told a devastating story with a single glimpse to anyone who saw it.
But it was the look of startle, of quiet pity, and I loathed it with every fiber of my being.
Ash had his sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, impervious to or ignoring the chill in the air altogether.
The ever-looming fog tumbled down the mountains this far north and would only get thicker in its attempt to block out the warmth of the sun, contributing to the frost crunching beneath each step.
Like mine, his cursed hand was on display as he led me through the streets, completely ignoring the stares that burned a hole through me.
This time when I shoved my sleeve down over my knuckles, grasping the hem to keep it from slipping again, he noticed.
Taking my cursed hand in his unblemished one, he threaded his fingers through mine, a supportive gesture that felt familiar, comforting, and far too intimate.
More intimate than when he told those males you were his? My consciousness sneered at me. Or perhaps more intimate than when his lips roamed your neck? Or the hot springs?
Or more intimate than liking it?
I hated that little voice in the back of my mind sometimes. If I could’ve stamped her out of existence like a heel quashing a bug, I would’ve, but she kept coming around during every flicker of uncertainty. Every inkling of vulnerability. Every moment of insecurity.
Bitch.
“You are not the curse.” Ash’s eyes never slid from the path ahead. To those around us, we looked like a sweet young couple out for a stroll, to destinations unknown in the city.
I was saved a response when an old voice called out, “Girl!” I turned in sync with Ash to see a grave-looking, elderly woman staring at us behind thick eyeglasses where she peeked out her stone front door, wafting of incense.
The grim line of her mouth was firmly set, not falling away when she spoke.
I shared a surprised glance with Ash. Was she speaking to us? “Girl, come this way. Hurry.”
A summons with expectation. Not an order, not exactly.
But there was an omen, a feeling of foreboding that surrounded this woman that caught my attention.
Ensnared it, despite the woman’s casual appearance.
She was old without looking haggard, kempt without effort, and with an air of mysticism.
The scent of sage incense wafted to me from beyond the threshold of her door smelling overall like the color green.
Sage meant one thing, something akin to a witch, someone who saw the other realms at least in glimpses—she was an oracle.
“What would I owe you for your time?” I knew better than to simply heed the request. Some oracles would give nothing and demand steep payment, but it was well known that those were largely frauds.
This woman though, the way she stared at me—through me, around me —it was obvious that wasn’t the case.
Even Ash didn’t hesitate, seeming curious about her.
Though she granted him a stern look full of distaste at best and warning at worst. “It’s okay, he’s with me. I’ll vouch for him.”
“We’ll see what the cards have to say before you say that sentence again, dearie. And consider this an act of community service. Your spirit guides are screaming at you, and you would do well to heed them.”
“What are they saying?” I stepped forward, enthralled. Ash’s face ticked upwards.
“Yeah, what are they saying?” His faux interest raked over both of us the way a grater shredded cheese, quickly and precisely. "That she needs to relax? Because I've been telling her that for a while."
“You sure you want to keep him around?” she asked me hopefully. “I can toss him out. I may be old, but I have tricks that work for even the most determined of scoundrels.”
“Less all the time.” I rolled my eyes. “Ignore him. I do.” Turning to him, I continued with a smile I couldn’t quite stave off, “See? I’m not the only one who thinks you a scoundrel.”
“Wow, rude.” Ash’s comment went unanswered as the woman before us shuffled her tarot deck. “I’ll have you know I’ve saved her life. Like a lot. I may be a scoundrel, but I’m an honest one.” I didn’t mean to smile, but my lips turned upwards all the same.
“Sit, sit.” The crone gestured to her table, where a bench sat opposite her, inviting us in.
We both sat, crammed too close together, his pauldrons encroaching near my face as she fanned the cards towards Ash.
“Blow on them. I want your intentions known to the cards.” Ash’s brow picked up before following the order.
She reshuffled and fanned them out once more before offering them to me face down.
Holding out her hands, she took mine, giving a comforting squeeze that was almost reassuring.
She noticed my curse touch immediately. I resisted the urge to hide my hand and fold in my myself under the weight of her steady gaze.
“That certainly explains a great deal. Pick three cards, my dear. Feel the cards, pick those that speak to you.”
Speak to me? How would the cards do that? I had no idea what to listen for as I ran my hand along the deck. Paper touched my skin, and when I pulled my hand away, I saw a card had stuck to me, leaving the oracle surprised. A surprised oracle was probably not a good thing.
“This card was anxious for you to see it, child. Flip it over and show me.”
I did as she bade, seeing three skulls grinning widely up at me. A gasp from the oracle chased the warmth from my body, leaving me with an unpleasant mixture of cold and numb.
Death. The card I’d drawn was death.
“The most important thing to know is that this card is seldom literal,” The old woman said in a practiced, even tone that reminded me of the one Thaddeus used to use when he couldn’t save someone, when they were too far gone for even magic to help them.
Her contemplative gaze flickering back and forth between Ash and me did nothing to instill further confidence. “Draw another.”
The moment was heavy with its own gravity, and I had to fight my own body to do as she directed this time. When I flipped a card over, there was no skull, no fearful image that greeted me, but that of a tower, leaning and crumbling in disarray.
“The tower. Interesting. Something in your life is not as it would appear,” She gave a hostile glance at Ash, as subtle as a brick.
“Something rooted in chaos and upheaval. One final card, before the reading.” I drew one more, only two cards stuck to me simultaneously, drawing concern from her.
“Something isn’t right. The cards are afraid for you.
Something is coming for you, my dear, and I need you to be ready. ”
“What is it?” I asked, sharing a look with Ash.
“Flip the cards. Let’s see what they say.”
A devil, complete with horns and a tail winked at me from the cards, the evil persona of The Morningstar.
And two grim lovers completely decomposed, embracing each other.
Though they had no flesh, they cried, their tears streaking their skeletal faces.
The oracle shot to her feet, muttering protection spells with wide, tearing eyes.
“Child,” she whispered before running to the cabinet under the window and packing a handful of earthy-smelling things into a mortar and pestle before grinding them down.
She packed the powder into a necklace made of gold before handing it to me.
“May this bear you some protection. There are forces the spirits are warning you against, forces beyond the mortal plane who want you for their own. Whatever is about to happen, it will strike at you soon. And it will strike hard. It will strike you where it hurts the most.” She patted my cheek with a grandmother-like love.
“I need you to run. Break that curse. And do it fast.” She looked to Ash one final time with contempt.
“May death find you quickly if your intentions are ill. May death take its time with you if you bring her to her doom.”
Ash’s face held none of the amusement it previously had. With tight lips and a gaze that he tore from me to address the oracle in front of him, he responded, “I assure you, Madam, on that we are in perfect agreement.”
“You can’t change the Fates’ design. They’re as fickle as it gets.
” Her tempestuous tone did nothing to lift my spirits as we walked away with the oracle watching on grimly behind us, the feeling of foreboding following us down the street and around the corner.
I barely felt anything. Not the wind on my face, not the cramping in my feet, not the chill in the air.
I barely registered his hand taking mine.
“Fallyn.”
His gentle grasp on me drew me to a stop.
I wasn’t crying. Not yet. But my heart hammered violently against my ribcage and stalling my lungs, my breaths came shallow, and my teeth sank into my lower lip.
“I’m afraid.” The admission was a whisper, barely audible floating on the breeze and away, but somehow Ash heard it.
His hand tugged me into the alley away from prying eyes, before pulling me against him.
“I know.” His voice always held a hint of dare, a touch of softness, a kiss of shadows, but his voice now held none of his usual swagger.
The oracle must have unnerved him more than I’d originally thought.
For all his bravado and bluster, it was possible he was as concerned about that prophecy as I was.
“You’re allowed to be afraid. It’s what you do with your fear that defines you.
The world, the Fates, not even the gods get to make you yield unless you allow it.
Running from your fear won’t stop it, you just give it your back and you become even more dangerous. ”
“Is that where all your confidence comes from? You don’t give anyone permission to take it away?”
He levelled me with a stare. “Yes. That’s exactly it.
The only one who can give a situation power over you, is you.
So, the gods have taken notice of you. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.
” I took a bolstering breath of air when Ash put his arm comfortingly around my shoulders.
And surprisingly, I did find it comforting.
I didn’t recoil, I didn’t protest. Instead, I leaned in and breathed deeply once more.
“Come on. I think we could both use a drink.”
I could not have agreed more.