Chapter 51
Chapter fifty-one
Seren
Breakfast was an abbreviated, stilted affair. The scrape of utensils over stone was the only sound to be heard save for the rustling of wildlife around us—wind in brittle leaves and birdsong on the air.
I was quiet, stewing on my failure at dreamwalking the night before. The rest of my companions were suffering from their own thoughts—tiredness and tensions weighing us down.
Safiya had stormed away after another failed attempt to apologize to Ayla. My cousin pushed her food around, her appetite lost. Théo wrapped an arm around his friend, whispering quietly in her ear. Harkin squeezed my hand and dropped a kiss on my cheek before following Safiya into the treeline.
I knew they had been friends, or as close to friends as was possible given the circumstances. They had relied on each other in Claudian’s court, and trust went deep between them. If anyone could assuage Safiya’s guilt, it was Harkin.
What she did—killing King Tarquin out of revenge—had been wrong, but I understood why she had done it.
When the pain was so great, what else was there to do? The answer seemed simple: to do something, anything, to relieve the ache, but it was never so easy, and there was never one cure to ease the broken thing inside.
I thought hiding my heart behind an impenetrable wall would keep me safe from hurt. The only thing it kept me safe from was happiness, and safety was not worth the cost of loneliness.
“Let’s break down camp. We have a long day ahead,” Théo suggested, tiredly. He pulled Ayla to her feet, and they moved toward their tents, packing up their belongings in preparation for the day of travel ahead.
I followed suit, returning to the tent I shared with Harkin.
Voices drifted toward me, muffled by the dense foliage. Safiya and Harkin. I knew I shouldn’t listen, but I couldn't help my curiosity.
“There is no point!” Safiya exclaimed. “She will never forgive me. She said so herself, time and again.”
“Do you wish you had made a different choice?” Harkin asked, voice was soft.
It would have been difficult to make out had I not known the dips and lilts of his voice as well as my own.
Safiya laughed humorlessly. “Of course, I do. I ruined my relationship over revenge that did not fix anything. I feel a thousand times worse for it, as if my feelings even matter.”
“Your feelings do matter, Saf.”
“No, they don’t, not in the midst of all of this. We are fighting for Ayla and Seren’s lives—for the fate of the kingdom. My heartbreak is nothing in the wake of our goals.” A sharp crack rang out, like a branch being broken in frustration.
“There is a lot at stake,” Harkin conceded, “but none of it means anything without the people we care about, so yes, your feelings matter. Ayla is angry, and rightfully so, but I would not give up yet. I think she may still find forgiveness in her heart.”
“Doubtful.” Safiya’s voice was petulant.
“I did not think Seren would forgive me for my lies—the betrayal I was meant to deliver—but she did. The woman who trusted no one with her heart found a way to let me in and forgive my shortcomings. I think she and her cousin may have that in common.” I frowned at Harkin’s tone.
He said the words like he did not believe himself worthy of my forgiveness.
“But you didn’t betray her, and you didn’t kill her father.
” Safiya sighed. “I suppose I did… I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, Harkin. I really do, but your situation and mine are not the same. You made the right choice before it was too late. I made the wrong choice, and I am not sure I deserve forgiveness—much as I desire it.”
A long silence passed, punctuated by the rustle of the tent as I stowed it in my pack, now fully collapsed. “Just… do not give up hope. Not yet.”
“Sure,” Safiya replied, but her tone was resigned.
I settled our packs by the recently quenched fire. A thin tendril of smoke still rose from the ashes.
Ayla stood alone, leaning against a large tree trunk. “Théo is scoping out the path ahead. We’ll set off once he returns.”
“I am going to say one thing. You can take it or leave it, and I will not mention it again, if you do not want me to.” I waited for Ayla’s approving nod before I continued.
“We all do things that we regret. We all hurt the people we love even when we want desperately not to. Sometimes those things are unforgivable, but sometimes forgiveness is the only way forward. I don’t want you to make a choice that you’ll regret.
I don’t want you to close yourself off the way that I did. ”
“Seren…” Ayla sighed.
“I know we’re not the same, and I know she hurt you so badly. Just think about it, alright?” The stitches on my broken heart flexed, pulling but not tearing anew. “I know you’ll make the right decision for you, and I will respect your choice, either way.”
I drew Ayla into a hug, squeezing her tighter when I felt her tears drip onto my shoulder. We clung to each other, holding on to the only family we had left.
“Thank you,” Ayla said as she pulled away. She wiped her face on her sleeve. “And thank you for forgiving me,” Ayla gestured to my arms, no longer bandaged but still pink with new skin. “For convincing me to make the right choice, even if it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.”
“I don't have many people that I trust—that trust me. That was by design. I was scared for a very long time, but I am here now. I am with you.” I poured every ounce of my sincerity into the words, willing her to understand the depth of my loyalty.
“You will make a better queen than I would have,” Ayla said with a wry smile. “My father was right about one thing: I was never suited for making decisions.”
“I don’t believe that.” I frowned.
“My entire life, I have done everything for everyone else. I only ever learned how to follow directions, never to give them.” She was so resigned. The line of her shoulders dropped, curving inwards to protect the softness within.
“You could always learn.”
“Well, now I don’t have to.” Ayla smiled, so heartwrenchingly sad that my own heart pulsed in response.
Théo came back, then, startling us from our quiet conversation. I had the distinct feeling that there was more to say, but Harkin and Safiya were already donning their packs and readying the horses.
The second day of travel was largely uneventful.
Trees appeared to move closer, then farther, in an endless sea of green. Great boughs blocked the clouded sky in places, adding to the encroaching darkness which crept in as a storm approached on the horizon.
When sleet began to fall through the frigid air, Harkin and I worked together, using our mágik to dispel the onslaught from our companions' prone bodies. The last thing we needed was for one of us to fall ill due to exposure.
I shivered, and Harkin untied his cloak, adjusting it so it wrapped around both of us. His warmth soothed me, and I leaned back into him. The steady sway of Equinox lulled me into a light doze, and soon, we had arrived at our destination for the night.
Darkness was a living creature, stretching its talons toward us with the sharp rocks that jutted through the treeline. The trees themselves were gnarled, nearly colorless in the grayscale land before us.
“Is this…?” I dismounted, glancing about warily.
“The brink of the Sárkhona Draum,” Théo confirmed, his lips tipped downward in the slightest of frowns.
“It certainly is…” I was at a lack of words yet again.
“Unsettling,” Ayla finished for me.
We all nodded in agreement. A shiver ran down my spine.
Wrongness permeated our surroundings. I was reminded of the barrier between Ordelés and Acsilla—the desire to turn back had been so strong. I had a similar feeling now, perched on the edge of the Váracis Erva and the Sárkhona Draum. Something evil lurked here, I was sure of it.
We made camp for the night, but I still could not shake my unease.
Théo was the first to confirm my fears. “This is where our journey takes a more dangerous turn. The Sárkhona Draum was once the home of the Drakány, but they were hunted to extinction. Such violence upon creatures of the heavens has left a permanent mark on this land, and it is rumored to have drawn in darkness in the form of dangerous spirits and the like.”
Ayla groaned, resting her head against Théo’s shoulder. She reached for my hand, and we squeezed our palms together once before releasing.
“It will be fine. We’ll look out for each other,” I insisted, feeling much less confident than I sounded.
“I’ll take the first watch,” Harkin offered, and after a hasty supper, we retired to our tents. It seemed we were all eager to hide from the ominous darkness that surrounded us.
“Do you want me to stay up with you?” I asked, lowering myself to the ground beside Harkin and lacing my fingers through his.
Harkin brought our joined hands to his mouth and kissed each of my fingers. Warmth tingled down my arm. He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. “You should get some sleep.”
“Ayla is right, though. It is ominous. I’m worried about you being out here alone after Théo’s less than encouraging speech about evil creatures stalking the night.” I scrunched my nose.
Harkin laughed. “I’ll be fine, Ren, but I appreciate you worrying about me. Safiya will take the next watch in a few hours. I will join you then.”
I nodded, pulling my hand free and leaning over to kiss him gently. “Goodnight.”
Sleep evaded me until Harkin finally joined me some hours later. We drifted to sleep quickly, side by side, but it was so unnaturally quiet on the outskirts of the Sárkhona Draum that an audible crack had us both leaping from our bedroll.
Safiya’s cry spurred us faster as we reached for our weapons, summoned our mágik.
It was so uncomfortably dark, the moon shadowed by heavy rain clouds which threatened to pour down upon us at any moment. Every branch and rock appeared as an adversary, and my heart pounded far too loudly.
Safiya was pinned against the sharp rock on the Sárkhona Draum side of our camp. She was surrounded by creatures I would never forget. Sziravit—seven by my count, with their unnatural, ghostly bodies and their reeking, dirty claws—stalked toward Safiya.
It reminded me of that first night in the Váracis Erva, when I had not yet trusted Harkin or even myself. I had hated mágik then, and I had feared it even more.
Sziravit are not known to attack when they are outnumbered, Harkin’s voice echoed through my mind.
There had only been one that night, and Harkin had saved me—scared the creature away when I had frozen. But there were far more now, and they looked upon us as easy prey.
We would have to save each other.
I leapt forward, sword raised high and water rushing along my arms. Ayla was right beside me, white hot flame illuminating the forest. The harsh light glared off the Sziravits’ eyes, and the ghosts shrieked in pain.
Safiya raised the sharp rock around her; the ground shook with her mágik.
With a yell, she flung the jagged shards at the Sziravit, piercing their bodies.
Black blood ran down their bodies, but still they marched forward. Their movements jittery and stilted, just as I remembered.
One lurched toward Safiya, landing a cutting blow to her injured knee. She cried out, tumbling to the side. Harkin summoned a current through the air, toppling the creatures and sending them rolling away from the group as Théo helped Safiya regain her feet.
Together, we pressed forward.
Two of the Sziravit succumbed to their injuries, black rock skewering them fully. They lay limp on the earthen floor.
The five remaining spirits wailed, clicking their jagged teeth and curving claws. Two of them stepped forward, heads cocked to the side.
Safiya grunted, teeth gritting as she moved her hands in an impressive motion. The earth shook once more, and a fissure formed in the rock. Two approaching Sziravit tumbled into the chasm, falling to the bottom with a sickening crunch.
We made quick work of the other three.
Harkin froze them in place with a shield of air while I slashed at their heads with my sword. Ayla followed behind, burning their corpses to a mottled crisp.
The air was thick with foul-smelling smoke, and I coughed, waving my hand in front of my face to dispel the ruined air. Harkin pushed away the bulk of it on a cleansing breeze.
I scrubbed my hands on my pants, leaving smears of their black blood behind. Exhaustion dragged at my limbs, but adrenaline fueled my racing mind.
We knew we would be unable to find sleep again, so we bandaged our wounds and set off, traveling deeper into the darkness.