Brothers #2
His brother stepped forward, starting down the hill, but then he stopped. He cast a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t let them see you,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if the undercurrent I heard in his voice was a reminder or a command.
The light of the sun seemed to follow Eythos, cloaking him in its radiance. Or maybe the sunlight was coming from him. As I watched him descend the steep, craggy hill that no mere mortal would have been able to walk down, the wildflowers stretched toward him.
Despite knowing that this was a dream, I shifted uneasily. I didn’t want to be left alone with Kolis. I glanced back at him. Even though this seemed like a less murderous version of him.
A ripple of excitement surged through the air, drawing my gaze back to the village.
Eythos had neared the first cluster of stone homes, and he had been seen.
Merchants ceased tinkering in the stalls.
Baskets of laundry were forgotten. Villagers emerged from their homes as children raced toward the approaching figure.
They gathered quickly, a cacophony of voices rising into the clear sky.
“Liessar! Liessar!” they called out, speaking the word for King in the language of the gods as their hands reached out as if to touch him.
“My children.” He opened his arms wide, welcoming them. “You honor me so.”
As prayers of thanks filled the air, mingling with the sound of the children’s laughter, I turned to Kolis.
The smile that had once graced his lips, that small and crooked one, had begun to ebb away. A shadow of sadness had descended upon him.
Eythos’s laugh drew my gaze back to the village. He picked up a small child, lifting the giggling girl toward the sky.
I found my attention returning to Kolis, my heart twisting with something akin to sorrow. I didn’t want to feel it or even acknowledge it. Fuck Kolis for all he had done. But…
But gods. He was so removed from all the joy, all the life he was so fascinated by and yearned for.
He moved slightly, looking down at the vibrant reddish-orange flowers. “What a pretty poppy,” he murmured.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my stomach twisting. My hands fisted. Those four words had haunted me since that night in Lockswood, and here he was, speaking them with such sadness.
I wanted to punch him.
I wanted to—
He gently ran his fingers along the curve of a petal. The blossom immediately dulled, turning a lifeless gray and wilting.
He exhaled heavily, the sound lost in the rustle of foliage as he straightened, backing away from the desolation of the once-vibrant poppy.
Suddenly, his head jerked toward the pines.
I turned to see a young boy with fair hair and a girl with tangled locks the color of the poppies emerge from the thicket.
My gaze dropped to their tightly clasped hands and the small, woven basket dangling from her slender arm, and my stomach twisted even further. These two children…
I took a step back.
“Come,” the young boy said. “Your favorite flowers are here.”
Tension poured into Kolis as he stiffened. The corners of his mouth tightened as the boy looked up. He noticed Kolis. Then stumbled to a stop. The halting movement caused the girl to lift her head. Her face was heart-shaped and freckled. And the children’s eyes—their green eyes—widened.
Kolis held up his hand, not in a gesture of greeting, but as if he were surrendering. “It’s okay,” he said. “I am not here for you.” His voice was gentle, sounding like a plea for them to understand. “Either of you.”
His words hung in the air as the two children remained silent. And Kolis…gods, there was no mistaking the hope etching itself into his features, replacing the fear. A smile started to appear—
Shrill screams tore from the little girl’s throat, making me flinch.
The boy turned sharply and bent, hauling the girl into his arms as the basket fell to the ground.
She buried her face in the boy’s neck, her little legs and arms wrapping around him as he took off, running as fast as his small feet could carry them.
It was not a smooth escape.
The boy stumbled over the uneven ground littered with twigs and stones. My heart lurched as his bony knees buckled and scraped against the rough earth. Both Kolis and I started toward them and then stopped as the boy shot to his feet and kept running, disappearing behind several larger rocks.
Kolis had grown incredibly still—I didn’t think he even took a breath. And he remained there for several moments. Then, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, as a weariness settled over him, making him seem older than his years.
How many times had that happened?
Based on the weight he seemed to carry now, I imagined too many to count.
With a heavy sigh, he turned from where the fleeing children had disappeared and slowly started toward the forest. My head cocked, picking up on the faint sound of a haunting melody. As my vision blurred a little, I realized he was humming under his breath.
A hush fell over the forest as he passed the first pine. Suddenly, branches rattled as birds took flight, their wings beating against the air. They flew in a frenzy as if chased by a predator, quickly becoming nothing more than specks on the horizon.
The silence returned as though nature itself held its breath, until a sudden, frantic movement caught my eye.
The forest came alive with panicked wildlife.
Deer, their elegant bodies tense with alarm, bounded through the underbrush, their white tails flashing as they spilled out of the trees.
Rabbits darted across the forest floor in haphazard zigzags, followed by smaller critters.
Even the insects rushed from the forest, the air thick with the buzz of their flight.
A cold knot lodged in my chest as I blinked back tears. My eyes were damp. Shaking my head, I wiped under them with quick, harsh movements. I couldn’t believe that I would feel not just pity, but empathy for Kolis. But I did.
I wasn’t sure what that made me, as my attention fell on the girl’s forgotten basket.
It lay on its side, spilling blue and pink wildflowers.
The prickling sensation returned, crawling up the nape of my neck.
My gaze crept over the poppies as I slowly turned back to the cliff.
My mind flashed to the small boy and girl.
Their hair. The boy’s words, and her freckles.
That basket. This place. The strange familiarity despite it appearing as if it had been conjured from a time long before mine—long before this version of me.
My heart started pounding as I swallowed.
I knew where I was, and I had a sinking feeling that I had been here before it became known as the Cliffs of Sorrow. And I had seen them. My chest squeezed. Sotoria. Callum.
I no longer wanted to be here. The beauty was gone, now painted with sorrow, loneliness, and the inevitability of death.
I needed to wake up.
I squeezed my eyes shut. The coldness in my chest began to spread, unfurling through my limbs.
Wake up.
Wake up—
“The one thing that Death always wanted…” A voice low and tinged with grief spoke from behind me.
Eyes snapping open, I started to turn but stopped when I realized that there was nothing where the forest had once been. Nothing but darkness. I took a shaky step back.
“Was to not be feared,” the voice said.
A tremor ran through me, and I finally moved, spinning on my heel.
Eythos stood there.
And he had changed.
He still looked ageless, but the youth was now gone from his features. His hair was longer, and his silver eyes were shadowed. Even his voice was different—deeper, heavier.
Eythos’s gaze was fixed on the unrelenting darkness.
The look on his face mirrored that of his brother’s: full of anguish and longing.
My heart thudded heavily as I saw that shadows had erased the village and were slowly creeping up the hill, the thick tendrils swirling over the wild lilacs and yarrow, snuffing out their life.
“Death seeks solace in the same way any of us does,” Eythos continued as faint streaks of gold gathered in the churning darkness. “Death yearns for a connection, a touch, a single moment not marred by fear or rejection.”
Swallowing hard, I found myself turning my attention back to him.
“Instead, because of the Fates, all he will ever be is a witness. A ghost among the living and the gods, forever wandering, forever alone.”
His gaze searched the darkness as if he could will his brother back into sight.
“Maybe,” he murmured as the wind shifted, much colder than it had been before, “if I had realized that in the beginning? Maybe if I had just told him that I saw how hard it was for him.” He shook his head sadly.
“All that has come to pass…and what is still yet to come…could’ve been prevented. ”
His words hung so heavily between us, laden with several lifetimes of sorrow and regret, that I tore my gaze from the shadows.
Eythos suddenly turned. Our gazes connected with such intensity that I couldn’t mistake that he was looking at me. That he saw me. Tiny bumps broke out across my flesh.
“But know this,” he said. “It is too late. Do not ever forget that.”
The gold-streaked shadows reached Eythos before I could respond. Eyes falling shut, he tipped his head back as the wisps drifted up his sides. His sigh was the last thing I heard before the swirling gold swept over me, carrying me into the silence.