102. Levi
LEVI
Despite the fact we’re roughing it and have a god to kill in just a matter of days, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my entire life.
The only thing tempering my joy is the fear of it all somehow being taken away.
It also makes me miss Astor. And reminds me of the fact I need to contact Jeriko in regards to helping Astor retire.
Initially, I thought perhaps he might have a contact that might be suitable.
Someone that is trustworthy enough to work for Astor, so much so that he might eventually put at least partial responsibility into their hands.
The more I think about it though, the more I wonder if Jeriko himself might be the best candidate: intelligent, capable, hardworking, ruthless when necessary, and entirely disenchanted with all things pertaining to the military, and the justice system.
Then maybe I could bring Astor with us to visit Caerwynath.
Introduce Violette and Azrael to him. Even if I am a little nervous to confess I’m entering into a throuple...
one third of which is another male. I can’t fathom telling him about my newfound gifts—horns, a tail, and magic I’m coming to know—but if I one day did decide to, I’m certain he would be accepting and fascinated in equal measure.
It only takes another two days of trekking–all three of us too exhausted and hungry to do anything other than forage and sleep–before we reach the other end of this aersyan island of supposedly sentient trees, and we have to cross the river again.
The stepping stones rise the moment we approach the shore.
Lying just on the other side is the pile of our weapons that we’d previously hid.
How they ended up here, I have no idea, but I feel compelled to utter a prayer of gratitude.
And thankfully, there was no need to use the knife I’d kept with me, nor was I penalized for breaking their rule.
My eyes scan the forest for Azrael’s shadow of whom there’s still been no sign, and again, I’m forced to shove away the anxiety his absence brings.
“You don’t feel your shadow nearby?”
The look on Azrael’s face tells me he’s just as concerned, as is Violette.
He shakes his head, rueful. “No. Not that I’m even certain I could if he was, at this point.”
Fuck. That can’t be a good sign.
I can feel we aren’t alone; that there are many sets of eyes on us at any given time, but I get the sneaking sensation that we are being given safe passage. Guarded or protected somehow—by whom I have no idea.
I’ve only caught glimpses of other beings—namely, ones that bear a vague resemblance to Violette—syriths.
They watch from a distance, dressed in crude-looking fur and leather garments.
When I spot a male that looks oddly similar to Violette, with nearly identical wings and horns, and the same black hair and alabaster skin, I can’t resist asking.
“Do you know if you might be distantly related to any of them?”
Violette and Azrael glance over at me to follow my gaze. Her expression tightens. The pain in her eyes draws her gaze to some distant point. The male disappears through the trees a moment later.
“It’s possible, I suppose. She was from here, but I grew up in the city. Never met any of my mother’s family. She never spoke of them; refused to.”
Azrael’s expression turns somber. “Would you like to find out?”
Violette sighs, her steps somehow heavier as she trudges beside us through the snow. “No... Not right now.”
Azrael and I exchange a look.
“Maybe one day... ,” she adds, “After my father is dead, and I have something to be proud of.”
Oh, fuck.
The pain behind her words is like a spear to the chest. Azrael and I both reach for her hands. “You already do, princess.”