Chapter Twenty-Three
How curious it is that those who begin as strangers may become lifelong companions, while those we once held closest may one day drift into the quiet realm of strangers.
Tabitha Wysteria
Kage had been journeying alongside the three enigmatic members of the Black Lotus, his ever-watchful crow and the silent wolverian wolf in tow, for what felt like an eternity, though in truth only a handful of days had passed.
The first three had been spent in the twilight-hued depths of Hollowmere, where the trio drank themselves into stupors night after night while Kage lingered in the shadows of the tavern, a brooding figure with eyes that missed nothing.
He had made several attempts to slip away into solitude, but each time, one of them—Arden most often—would appear as if conjured from smoke and guide him back with an infuriatingly casual smile.
It was Arden, too, who had seen to the wound in his own leg, the very one that Nymeria’s blade had so unceremoniously delivered.
With the elegance only a Fae could summon, Arden had drawn forth his magic, golden filaments unfurling like spun sunlight from his dusky fingers.
The threads danced in the air, some fluttering into delicate forms of butterflies that shimmered for a heartbeat before vanishing into the ether.
The rest wove themselves gently over the injury, a gossamer mist settling like breath on skin, until the torn dark flesh knit itself anew and the pain receded into memory.
Kage had watched it all with a stoic sort of wonder, silent and still as stone, the light of Arden’s magic glinting in his black eyes.
‘Can you heal anything?’ Kage had asked, his voice quiet with curiosity as the hour crept past midnight. Most patrons of the tavern had long since succumbed to drink and slumber, leaving the space cloaked in shadows and the scent of stale wine.
‘Unlike witches, we Fae mourn the march of time,’ Arden had replied with a lazy smirk, green eyes catching the dim light.
‘We use our magic to mend not only wounds but appearances too by smoothing wrinkles, brightening hair, refining what age seeks to tarnish. The gods, after all, did deem us their most exquisite creation.’
‘Could you live forever, then?’ Kage had asked, a faint frown creasing his brow. The notion was one that had always eluded him, though many he’d met clung to life with desperate hands.
Arden had chuckled, low and amused. ‘No, our magic isn’t so omnipotent. We can stitch flesh, ease pain, delay the inevitable. We live a little longer than most mortals, yes, and weave illusions with ease… but immortality?’ He shook his head. ‘No. Nor would I wish it. Thank the gods for that.’
‘You wouldn’t want to live forever?’ Kage had found that surprising. Hadn’t everyone dreamt of such a thing?
Arden merely shrugged. ‘One mortal life is hardship enough. Why prolong the suffering?’
Now, in the present, Kage cast a final glance over his shoulder at the fading edge of the forest they had left behind, the elusive woodlands of Hollowmere.
The trees had already begun to blur from memory, the magic of the Forest of Forgetful Hollows doing its quiet work.
He knew he would never find his way back, but the thought didn’t trouble him.
He hadn’t seen much beyond the tavern walls.
They emerged from the gloom into a burst of colour, fields of wildflowers blooming in unapologetic beauty, and a silver river threading through the landscape like a ribbon of moonlight. Arden pointed towards the dense green horizon. ‘The city of Velunthar lies just beyond that rainforest.’
Kage inclined his head but remained silent.
He knew of Velunthar, had read of it in forgotten volumes tucked deep within the Dark Library.
A city cradled by the rainforest, veiled from the eyes of most. And beyond it, past the mists and foliage, lay the border where the Kingdom of Fauna gave way to the wild lands of the wolverians.
‘You ought to give it a name,’ Arden said, slowing his stride to match Kage’s measured pace. ‘The wolf, I mean.’
‘It’s not mine.’ Kage didn’t look up, though the wolf remained faithfully pressed to his side, its thick fur brushing his arm with every step, as if it sought comfort, or perhaps understood that Kage was the one who needed it most.
‘Still deserves a name, even if it isn’t yours,’ Arden replied with a careless shrug.
‘It may already have one,’ Kage murmured, exhaling through his nose.
‘You didn’t ask?’
‘I didn’t expect to be stuck with it this long.’
At that, Arden came to an abrupt halt and, with exaggerated flourish, pressed a dark hand to the wolf’s leg. ‘Don’t listen to the wicked wyverian,’ he said in a sing-song voice. ‘He’s just perpetually grumpy.’
‘I’m not grumpy,’ Kage muttered, frowning.
‘Then name the wolf.’
‘No.’
‘Pretty please?’
Kage inhaled deeply, trying to summon patience from the brittle edges of his temper. He was beginning to see why this infuriating Fae had once got along so well with Wren. He sighed again, more dramatically this time, when Elric and Nymeria noticed the pause and circled back.
‘You haven’t named your beast?’ Elric asked, eyebrows arching in mild astonishment.
‘It’s not mine.’
‘Still,’ Elric mused, ‘you ought to name your companion.’
Nymeria nodded and signed something with graceful hands, her expression unreadable but firm in agreement.
Kage rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. ‘Fine. Snow.’
Arden made a noise of protest. ‘You can’t name it that.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s too… too obvious.’
‘I can name it whatever I like,’ Kage said, voice calm and flat as slate. ‘It’s Snow.’
‘It needs a warrior’s name,’ Arden insisted, giving the wolf an affectionate pat. The creature sat proudly, tail thudding once on the grass. ‘What about Ghost?’
‘Fine.’
Arden tilted his head. ‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘I am.’
‘Are you, though?’
Kage had already started walking again, brushing past them as their laughter chased after him. His shoulders, tense with annoyance, loosened the moment the wolf padded beside him once more, its side brushing his fingers like a secret they both understood.
‘You liked Snow better, didn’t you?’ he muttered under his breath.
The wolf gave a low, unimpressed huff.
Kage grimaced. ‘Fine,’ he sighed. ‘Ghost it is.’
…
They had pitched camp not long after stepping into the rainforest’s humid embrace.
Kage, for one, found little to like about the place.
The air clung to his skin like a second, unwanted layer, and each step sank his boots deeper into the thick, reluctant mud.
A bead of sweat traced a slow, deliberate path down the curve of his cheek, stinging slightly as it passed.
The Fae, infuriatingly, seemed untouched by the discomforts of their surroundings.
Not a hair out of place, not a crease of sweat upon their brows.
Kage suspected subtle magic at work. A glamour, perhaps, woven not just to preserve appearances but to make them seem as though they were on a leisurely stroll through paradise, rather than trudging through a sodden inferno.
They had spent the day crossing meadows veiled in golden light, only to enter this lush green labyrinth, where the heat lay thick as a blanket and the very air seemed to shimmer with damp.
Still, Kage reminded himself, he was wyverian. Bred of endurance, trained from youth in both mind and body. He may not possess the brute strength of his brother Kai, nor the whip-fast agility of Mal, but his stamina was carved from stone. He could endure.
Nymeria had vanished into the undergrowth, soundless as shadow, to gather firewood, while Elric busied himself with setting up camp.
Kage took his place beneath a twisted tree whose roots bulged like knotted veins through the earth.
He sat in silence, ever watchful. Above him, Spirox perched in the branches, his spectral eyes gleaming like two tiny moons, cool and calculating.
At his side, Ghost let out a disgruntled huff and shifted his weight with a low, gravelly growl, ears twitching at the unfamiliar sounds of the rainforest.
‘You’re uncomfortable too?’ Kage asked softly, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. There was some solace in the shared misery.
Arden approached in silence, dropping into a crouch beside Kage, his hand falling idly to the wolf’s fur, stroking it as though the motion steadied his thoughts. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Elric, then leaned in, his voice little more than breath.
‘I don’t want them growing suspicious,’ he murmured, so quietly it barely stirred the air between them.
Kage tensed, every instinct on edge.
‘In the night,’ Arden went on, his lips barely moving, his fingers continuing their lazy rhythm over Ghost’s thick coat, ‘we make our move.’
A fractional shake of Kage’s head was all the protest he gave.
‘We need to lose them,’ Arden insisted, undeterred, his tone a blade wrapped in silk.
‘I thought you were going to show them how to leave the Black Lotus,’ Kage said, his voice low, laced with warning.
A soft scoff escaped Arden, tinged with amusement. ‘I was lying.’
‘Fae can’t lie,’ Kage said, his dark eyes narrowing like a stormcloud on the edge of breaking.
‘I didn’t. Not technically.’ Arden shrugged with infuriating nonchalance. ‘There is a way out of the Black Lotus.’ His smile deepened, wicked and gleaming. ‘Death.’
‘You plan to kill them?’
‘No,’ Arden replied at once. ‘But I’ve no intention of leading them all the way to wolverian lands either. If they catch on, I’m a dead man. We slip away before they figure it out.’
Kage gave a slight nod, just enough to be felt, not seen. Across the firelit clearing, Elric turned towards them, his brow furrowed with suspicion, but before he could move, Nymeria emerged from the trees, and his focus shifted.
‘What’s the plan?’ Kage asked under his breath.
Arden leaned back, angling his body away from the others, and with an almost childlike air, began tracing patterns into the damp soil with his finger.
A lazy and lethal grin crept across his lips and his green eyes glinted with a brand of mischief that made Kage wonder, not for the first time, what exactly Wren Wynter had seen in this dangerous man.
‘Leave that to me, Kage Blackburn,’ Arden said as he rose to his full, slender height. ‘Just make sure you can keep up.’
Kage watched as Arden sauntered back to Elric and Nymeria, clapping their arms in mock camaraderie, laughing too loudly as he joined them by the fire.
And as the flames flickered in their eyes and the shadows danced in the trees beyond, Kage found himself wondering just what kind of chaos he’d allowed himself to follow.