Chapter 12
Twelve
Ziggy
8 months later
T he air smells different tonight. It smells like Midsummer as a child: fresh blueberry muffins in the morning, fresh cut dahlias made into flower crowns, and of course just a hint of the roaring bonfire. It smells like freedom.
Subconsciously, my thumb slides across the symbol tattooed into the webbing of my other hand that has made it nearly impossible to get close to the boundaries around Dolent. Tonight is different though. Standing with my head pressed against the invisible wall all I can feel is a dull ache emanating from the ink, similar to an old injury.
Everything is different tonight.
“Keep your head in the game, Zigmund. The whole plan relies on you working with us,” Malachi chastises me.
“Give him a break, grumpy. He’s only accessed his powers a handful of times, and has yet to test their full extent since they were unlocked.” As per usual, Dorran makes light of the situation, trying to find a way to calm me down. He’s too happy for his own good—gods, he made fun of me as I tried to take my own life. Granted, he did save me in the end.
“Gentlemen, we will be dining on the finest of souls tonight! Every dark, vile drop. And then we will fuck our girl covered in the blood of the fallen!”
For fuck’s sake, Rune. You’re psychotic.
Rune lets out a malevolent chuckle that I can feel in my chest. “Don’t fool yourself. We’re a system coexisting in one mind and body.” I feel Rune fight for control of our body to make a point. “Meaning you’re psychotic.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to any of this,” I grunt under my breath.
Arms wrap around my middle from behind. “Talking to the guys?” Lydia asks.
“I look insane, don’t I?”
“But oh so sexy.” She nips at my ear, dipping under my arm and around the front of me, wedging herself against the boundary. “Are you ready?”
Her big powder blue eyes glint with a mixture of worry and excitement. It’s been a crazy three years of preparing for this very moment, and the whole plan rides on my new abilities.
“I don’t think ready is the right word. I’m ready to decimate this place, but I’m not too sure if I’ll be able to pull it off—we’re all dead if I fail.”
Pushing up on her toes, Lydia takes my face in her hands to rest her forehead against mine. “Ziggy, you can do this. We can do this. Even without your powers I know you could get us out of here. Your strength never came from your powers—it comes from your passion.” Tilting her head up, her nose slides against mine, our lips barely a hair apart. “You ignite purpose into the hopeless. You will lead an army of the scorned and decimate anyone in your path. You are the key to a life they all deserve. The key to a future that is built for us, and no one will ever be able to take it away again.”
With one hand splayed across her lower back and the other against her soft white braids, I meld her body and lips to mine. I kiss her like it’s the end of times. Like the heavens are falling and the hellfire has long burnt out. I kiss her like time and space don’t exist. We are one soul floating among the gods. Nothing could take my love for her away. Even if my blood soaks the earth and my body feeds the forest, I will always be hers, and that’s more than enough.
Keeping my eyes shut and our foreheads pressed together, I reluctantly remove my lips from hers. “With you, anything is possible.”
My leather bound journal lies open in the palm of my hand as I read over the list of beings who are ready for a revolution.
Wellum
Bern
Ozax
Fiona
Renna
Phin
Wynona
The list goes on with names consisting of guards, doctors, soldiers, and all of the able bodied prisoners. The Collective may have made us into warriors, but little do they know, they have trained the enemy.
“Mr. Zigmund.”
Peering up from the page, I find one of the midwives, Wynona, standing with another dryad. He’s a tall, lean man with the same bark-like texture to his skin, except his is a soft blue hue. His hair is the color of the depths of the ocean, falling in long waves. Looking over to Wynona, he smiles down at her while interlacing their fingers.
“Wynona, it’s great to see you. Is everything ready at the estate?”
She pinches her lips together, dropping her orange eyes to the ground. “It is. I’m just worried about the lifebringer. She’s seven months along and a being of interest. If you get what I mean,” she replies dejectedly.
“Come on, love, you’ve protected her so far. I know you can now.” The man beside her lovingly reassures her, pressing a soft kiss on top of her head. He reaches out his free hand. “Rowan. Nona’s husband.”
I shake his hand with admiration. I’ve heard quite a lot about the resistance he’s been setting up for many years now. He’s the reason I have my list.
“It’s an honor to finally meet you, sir. You and your wife are doing amazing work.
Rowan’s brows knit together as his face hardens. “I’ve been assisting in the intake of healers for almost twenty-years now. While I’ve withheld as much information as possible, I am just as complicit in these atrocities,” he growls.
Wynona places her bark textured hand on his chest causing his shoulders to drop. “Many of these beings are still alive because of you, Rowan. Ashland is alive, and most of all safe .”
My ears perk up at the new name. “Ashland?” I ask hesitantly.
“Our daughter. Rowan sacrificed himself for us. We were trying to flee Terra because, while healer blood is worth more than gold, dryad magic is very potent and able to break through most shields and barriers…among other things.” Wynona looks to her husband with stars in her eyes.
He huffs, throwing his hands in the air, clearly not happy with that answer.“I did what any father would do! I got her to the bridge to Noir and placed the glamour. You were already captured and if I didn't run into the arms of the soldiers, Ashland would have never been able to get across in time.”
My gaze flicks between the two of them. Their love and devotion to their family is clear. The dryads continue to bicker about how things could or couldn’t have been different, wasting precious time. Running my fingers through my hair, I let out a loud sigh, catching the couple's attention. “You are both wonderfully brave beings, but we really need to get everyone together.”
They both nod in understanding. Wynona kisses her husband on the cheek and turns back to me. “I will get the girl to safety. That’s the best I can do.”
I thank her before she heads back to the estate. My skin crawls with the thought of a young pregnant girl living at one of the compounds, but at least she has a chance of living.
“Rowan, this is the list I have compiled of beings who would be willing to help.” I hand him the leather journal. Licking his finger, he flips through the pages at an impressive speed. Once he’s finished, he closes the book and ties the leather binding.
“This is a good start, but I know at least another twenty more. You collect the prisoners and I’ll get the staff. Where would you like to meet up?”
The breath I’ve been holding releases from my chest. I don’t know why I feel the need to impress Rowan, but his aura just emanates fatherly love—something I’ve never experienced. “The far end of the trainee's boundary. Where the ground changes to dry, dead earth.”
How trustworthy do you guys think he is?
“Seems like a good enough guy. You’ve already told him enough to ruin you.” Dorran quips.
That is true.
“Figure out a way to touch him again,” Malachi pushes. Thankfully, allowing me to handle my body. Casually stepping forward, I reach up to cup Rowan’s shoulder. He squints down at me, as a calmness slowly infiltrates my veins.
“His soul is too righteous. Definitely too bland for my tastes.” Rune’s whine could compete with a childs. If his voice wasn’t so deep and smooth I would probably try to claw my brains out.
Not breaking eye contact, my face hardens, showing how serious the information I’m about to give him is. “I have beings on the inside who are going to lower the barriers and break the bonds on everyone’s magic.” I feel a light flow of his soul being tugged through my hand. I jerk my hand to my side, praying to the gods that he didn’t feel the disruption.
I thought you said that his soul was too bland, Rune?!
“The dryad had to know we’re not to be crossed. I’m sure his soul would be filled with boring knowledge that Kai would love.”
“Do not involve me, child. I have much better ways of extracting what I want from a being without ripping their essence out.” Malachi’s voice deepens to an uncomfortable octave.
Can alters kill each other?
“It must be hard having a mind that crowded.” My eyes snap to Rowan’s, all of the blood draining from my face.
My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Rowan just puts his hand up to stop me, sucking in his lips to stifle a laugh. “Dryad magic is ancient. One of the oldest magics to be honest. I know much more than most think I do. It comes in very handy.”
“I like him! Mr. Cranky and Miscreant, don’t fuck this up!” Dorran chides the guys.
“Relax, Zigmund, we’re on the same team.” Rowan winks before striding off.
Wasting no time, I stalk past the healer tents, hurrying to my old stomping grounds. The training area is barely five minutes from the camp center and comes into sight quickly. The tents are just as large as I remember, but I have a new perception. Being away for so long I forgot just how many of us there are being held here—whipped and ready for slaughter.
Warm candle light leaks from the opening. The light breeze flapping the material back and forth. Feet rooted to the ground, anxiety takes over. There’s a good possibility my presence is unwanted. I abandoned them in a way.
“You got this, buddy! They know you and want out just as bad.” Dorran gives me his classic pep talk as my fingers grip the canvas. All I have to do is push it open and walk in with my head held high. How they’ll react is really a toss up.
A boot barely through the opening, I hear a loud whistle followed by clapping. “He lives!”
Putting on a strong face I traipse through the opening to find Lev rising from one of the cots, which have been pulled into a circle so no one has to sit on the floor.
The guys look up, and some over their shoulder, pausing their card game. A few new faces stare at me with confusion, while the long timers shoot glares of aggravation or annoyance. I wasn’t expecting a party but I thought I’d get a bit of a warmer welcome than this.
“How can we help you, turncoat?”
I blanch, fury filling me. “Turncoat? I had to leave. I haven’t been living the life of luxury, Levi,” I grit.
“Sure, man.” Lev runs a finger over the point of one of his horns. “What do you want?”
“I had a proposition for you guys, but I can leave and let you fend for yourselves.”
Lev points a furry finger, gearing up to lay into me, but a young troll reaches up and slaps it away. “Chill the fuck out, Lev. Let’s hear the elf out.”
As I open my mouth to speak I feel myself yanked to the back of my mind. “Hmm yes, that sounds perfect.” Kai speaks up.
Great, they’re about to get an earful.
Malachi
“Take a seat, or remain standing, it doesn’t make a difference to me.” Waltzing forward, I adjust the leather straps across our chest, drawing attention to the two swords resting against our back. The flicker of apprehension that runs through the group pleases me. Yes, fear us .
“I’m going to cut to the chase. If you want to escape tonight, you’ll join forces with me. If you want to die, walk away right now because I’ll take down anyone who gets in the way of my plans,” I announce plainly.
Murmurs erupt around the tent, getting louder as they begin to bicker between one another.
Smacking my hands together loudly, all voices instantly cut off. “As I was saying, tonight myself and a few other allies will be clearing out the camp. Before you try to jump down my throat, yes, you will be able to access your magic and the boundaries will be broken. Now, this is where you all come in.” Rubbing the stubble on my chin, I observe how the satyr Ziggy called Levi looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel. Seems he took on a leader position and clearly feels challenged.
“If you are true gentlemen and are ready to fight for your freedom, meet me where death has crept into the soil. Bring any weapons you have constructed or stolen, and don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t have any. I was a trainee for many years before I was banished to be tortured .”
Our ears are graced with silence. Granted it’s a terror filled silence, but that isn’t my problem.
Lev slowly lowers himself onto the squeaky cot, burying his face in his honey hands. The others heads swivel between us, waiting with bated breath. When the satyr lifts his head, his eyes meet mine with my favorite emotion, rage. I don’t need to be inside his mind to know he was reliving every torturous moment he has been through and the horrors witnessed.
“Whatever you need, I will be there. Death is inevitable. I’ll die for my freedom— my choice.”
I hold back a groan of excitement as every single being in the tent pledges their lives for the cause—the hate is palpable.
I can’t wait to dine on the slaughtered.