98. Levi
LEVI
Iapproach the river’s water, waiting to feel some urge to shift. Not that this will make it so much safer to cross, but my curiosity can’t seem to help itself. Removing a glove, I dip my hand in the water. I feel nothing other than the intense urge to pull back because it’s too fucking cold.
The water is crystal clear, glittering in the noonday sun hovering directly above us. I’m well aware that the moment it begins to descend towards the horizon, the aersyans scraping the sky above us will cast a shadow over us, making the air around us at least ten degrees cooler.
Standing, I heave a sigh, wiping my hand on my coat and shoving it back into my glove. “I don’t feel anything.”
Violette rolls her eyes. “You barely even waited.”
“If I waited any longer, my hand was going to turn into a block of ice.”
Huddled between Azrael and his shadow, she gestures vaguely at the river.
“Well, just sit there then. Focus on the crisp, clean scent of the water. Its soothing murmur... Any time I get near water, I feel the urge to shift. Just be patient.”
My sense of urgency to find or make shelter has me grumbling my impatience, but I park my ass on a rock near the edge and close my eyes.
Patience.
I draw in a long, deep breath.
Hold...
Slowly exhale.
Direct my thoughts to my heartbeat.
Several moments pass.
My mind quiets.
Random thoughts rise, but I allow them to drift by, continuously redirecting my thoughts to my heart.
A thought arises. From where, I don’t know; and with it an emotion.
You didn’t even ask permission if you could enter the aersyan forest, this ancient, sacred place. Much less wait for an invitation.
When you go to someone’s house, you knock on the door, do you not? Or do you just barge in?
The realization makes me feel like an asshole.
And when you visit, you bring a gift—an offering in gratitude for your hosts—or do you just show up, empty-handed, expecting to be fed?
My heart twinges with a mild sense of guilt and shame.
Intuitively, I pull off my gloves and place them on the rocky, snowy, muddy shore.
Energy, with startling intensity, zings up my arm and radiates through my body.
Within my mind’s eye, I see a network of cords and tendrils of light.
Energy surrounding us and pouring into me through my bare palms pressing against the ground.
I’m sorry.
My remorse is genuine under the weight of a realization being unveiled to me.
Images flutter through my mind. Memories.
Only some of which are my own—that prove just how entitled, arrogant, and ignorant we, and so many people, so many worlds, are.
Blithely anthropocentric. Always taking and never giving back to the natural world as if it were created solely for their exploits.
This feeling of remorse and guilt grows in my chest as I pour the feeling of apology into the ground beneath me.
I’m not sure how much time passes.
But I have the most bizarre urge as another image rises to my mind—the cutting of hair.
But my hair isn’t long enough to cut anything more than a fingernail’s length. The realization replaces the image with that of spilled blood.
A certain sense of knowing settles over me. Has me opening my eyes and standing, withdrawing the pocket knife clipped inside my pocket.
I get the distinct sensation of being watched—not merely by Violette, Azrael, and his shadow—but by something or someone else. Perhaps many someones.
Blood wells as I draw the blade horizontally across my wrist and hold it over the river, watching as my blood trickles into its crystalline depths.
When the wound at my wrist heals, stopping the blood, I pass the blade to Violette, looking between all three of my companions. “Offer some of your hair.”
She looks mildly surprised. “Not blood?”
“I get the feeling an offering of any kind will suffice so long as it is done with sincerity.”
Though I have no idea what Azrael’s shadow will offer. Unease winds in my gut as he drifts to the water’s edge and doesn’t stop. The canvas tarp-cloak floats up around him as he floats further in.
My panic starts to rise.
“Azrael, make him stop.”
Azrael steps to the edge, features tightening with worry.
“I can’t. He doesn’t listen to me. His will is his own.”
Fuck. Me.
My fists curl at my sides as desperation tears from my throat. Even if I attempted to go after him, my arms would pass right through him if he willed it.
“Azrael!”
Now chest deep, Azrael’s shadow shifts to face us. The starry points of his eyes glow from within his hood, focusing on me.
The word is a growled plea. “Don’t.”
He ignores me entirely. Continues drifting further and further towards the center of the river, until he disappears beneath the surface. His canvas tarp-cloak is carried away on the river’s surface.
“Fuck.”
Tears tremble on the edges of Violette’s eyes as her eyes leap to Azrael.
“Is he coming back?”
Azrael throws his hands in the air. “No fucking clue.”
Violette sniffles as she reaches for a tendril of hair at the base of her head and uses my blade to saw it off before passing it to Azrael, who does the same, looking more frustrated than I’ve ever seen him.
“Now what?”
Sighing, I wave a hand in the river’s direction. “Try offering some gratitude for safe passage when you toss it in.”
They follow my instruction, and then the three of us stand there at the edge. Waiting.
Each passing moment intensifies my feeling of foolishness.
A shadow is cast over us, and my eyes lift to see the sky sealing shut with the return of thick, gray clouds blocking out the sun and likely harkening snowfall.
Growling, I turn my back on the river to begin pacing.
Great.
Half a day in and we’re already down one man. One... person?
A few more hours and we’re going to fucking freeze to death.
With empty stomachs.
After nearly forty years of human limitations I have to remind myself we aren’t so fragile, but our relative immortality does nothing to assuage the guilt and naivety that I thought I could protect us in this alien world filled with unfathomable threats and inconceivable possibilities.
Magic that I am only just coming to know.
It reminds me of my father, arrogantly leading his family through a world of crime as though he were untouchable.
My shame at the realization runs deep.
Violette clears her throat behind me. “Levi..."
I hang my head, stilling my feet, doing my best to remove the bite from my tone.
“Yes?”
When she doesn’t answer, I turn to find Violette, and Azrael—looking paler than I’ve ever seen him, staring across the river. I follow their gazes.
My lips part in shock.
A giant cervid-centaur creature is standing across the shore.
Even his face is half-animal. He has the head of a man, but with a nose that is half-snout, half-human, and bears antlers boasting more points than I can count at a glance—at least twenty.
From the waist down, he has a gigantic deer’s body with a tawny white and gray hide.
From the waist up, his body is humanoid with lithe, lean muscle coated in a velvety-looking layer of fine fur that reveals the bark-colored skin beneath.
Silvery, pupil-less eyes seem to stare straight through us; jarringly similar to the ghostly-white of a person who no longer possesses the gift of sight, yet somehow the silvery eyes seem omniscient; clairvoyant.
His voice is resonant and carries a certain calm that commands.
“Why are you here?”
“We are in need of shelter... On our way to the coast.”
His eyes wander to Violette. “You are going to Sinsól.”
I glance back at Violette as she hesitantly nods.
The creature’s mouth tilts with a subtle frown.
“Your father will be pleased to see you.”
She huffs a sardonic laugh. “Then you don’t know my father.”
“You might be surprised.”
Violette’s expression hardens. “Do you know where he is?”
“Yes.”
Violette’s eyes widen. “Where is he? Do you know how I can reach him?”
“His city below. Though it can only be reached by key or invitation.”
Violette frowns. “I have neither.”
“Then you have come unprepared.”
Violette scowls, and I can practically see the daggers flying from her eyes. “Thank you for providing such an illusory revelation.”
The creature remains expressionless as he studies us. Several moments pass, and I’m half expecting him to turn us away when a series of stepping stones rise from the river.
“Leave your weapons behind. They are not permitted in the forest.”
Since my adulthood, I’ve never not carried a weapon, but I’m aware arguing with him will only worsen our situation. He turns and strides back into the forest on deer legs as big as a Clydesdale’s.
I turn, looking for somewhere to hide our arsenal, and decide upon a fallen tree. Scooping out fistfuls of snow, I create a hiding space large enough to fit our weapons into and pack them in, ammunition included.
“Have you ever seen anything like him?”
Violette shakes her head, brow furrowing over a grim expression. “Not in real life.”
Azrael, still unnervingly pale, remains quiet. My eyes meet his.
“He is a cervahnith.”
My eyes dance between the two of them as they exchange a knowing look that makes me want to jump out of my skin.
“Which is?”
“They are guardians and harbingers..."
My jaw clenches with impatience. “Dear god, Azrael... Of what?”
His throat dips.
“Necessary death.”
My brows knit together as my heart begins to thump, and a sickening melange of guilt, frustration, and disbelief settles on my chest.
“Ok... So we turn around.”
Azrael shakes his head. “That’s not how it works. It doesn’t matter where we go now; fate will follow us.”
Despite his words, the urge to go straight back to the Catskills is overwhelming, but now that we’ve begun survival, I fear that if Violette uses her portal magic to get us back home, her life will be at risk for breaking her vow.
Fat, fluttering snowflakes begin to drift from the heavens as if heralding an inescapable fate.
The cervahnith is gone.
The steps leading across the river await.
If this creature plans to lead us to an early grave, I will not go easily or unarmed.
Azrael curses, growling under his breath. “I hate feeling like this.”
“Like what?”
He shakes his head, scowling as he stands. “So fucking helpless. So fucking human.”
Violette stands to console him.
With their backs turned, I sneak my hand beneath the packed snow, grab the first knife my hand wraps around, and stand, tucking it in the back of my belt.
Lowering my head, I close my eyes to whisper a prayer—an apology— to the aersyan and anyone else who is listening.
I’m sorry for breaking your rules. You know my intentions. I will bring no harm to others, so long as they bring no harm to us.