30. Esther
ESTHER
My recurring nightmare is on a loop. I’m trapped in the memories of the night when the mighty omni greers met their demise.
This time, however, it wasn’t just the black armored soldiers rallying the remains of my people and children alike.
The soldiers mostly brought those who were defenseless before them—easy for the slaughter.
This time, clearer than before, I see the shapes of dark beasts, mutated but strong.
I’m forced to watch on, the figures of my parents, whose faces I can no longer recall, fighting to get to me in time as I’m lined up beside the other children, frightened.
Glimmers of a blood moon behind the rain and storm reveal itself bit by bit, another detail that’s always been hazy.
Miasma shifts, taking me to a different place.
I’m now walking in chains as my five-year-old self, failing to keep my eyes open from the impending doom as my power is unraveling and coming unbound. The same magic birthed into my people begins eating me from the inside out.
The potent miasma transfers me again. This time, I’m being chased by the repers. Their bouncing yellow eyes hypnotize me into a slumber so they can pluck out and feast on my eyeballs.
Children’s laughter, screams, and chants continue to swirl as I’m trapped in this never-ending nightmare, waiting for a breath, and one that I fear will never come. I’m drowning in my worst fears and nightmares, alone and scared in the darkness that is of my own creation.
Suddenly, a voice reaches out for me, my name an echo in its wake. It’s a small beacon of hope in this tiresome hell, that maybe, just maybe, I won’t be alone forever.
I realize it’s a woman’s voice that is as distorted as it is unrecognizable. It sounds like she’s chanting a song, trying to edge through the pool of darkness that I’m drowning in. I can only feel the quiver of her tone lightly patting against the surface, but unable to delve deeper.
Her voice and presence sink into the murky water I’m trapped in. She’s closer, maybe even clearer, though I can’t understand the words to her chant.
Another loop and she’s a fraction closer.
I dare cling to her if she nears enough in the hope that she can pull me out. In a time that feels like an eternity, gently, I feel the hands of the foreign woman wrapping around me to lift me up and out through the reservoir.
Dark magic tries to drag me down again, but I am more than willing to be rescued by this unknown source.
I can’t drown and suffer in these depths any longer; that would surely turn me insane.
It is painful being dragged to the surface, every inch like fine threads slicing into every fiber of my soul.
As my body nears the top, it’s washed over with a blistering cold balm, and from the depths of where I came from, it slowly tears me apart. I can’t scream here. I’m silenced in this darkness, trapped in a state of not living but not entirely dead.
The first breath brings me back to life, and I shoot forward, my lungs burning with the deep inhale. I immediately keel over, pain ripping up the left side of my ribs. Every breath is a feral rasp, my body shaking and damp from a cold sweat.
I immediately search the dark room for soldiers, for repers, for mutated shadowed beasts.
“Easy,” a greer with honeycomb skin and yellow eyes coos. I flinch away, even though she did nothing to reach for me. I scan the room again. No one else is here. No repers. No soldiers. No dying children or burning huts.
A fur pelt is thrown over me in a small tent that offers no hidden corners or shady presence. Only plants and magical items dangle from the ceiling in a clustered mess, edging into a darkness where the flickering candlelight could not reach the outer edges of the tent.
I run my shaky hands through my sweaty, unbound hair, looking back to the greer who silently watches. She wears numerous gold earrings, trailing from bottom to top on her stretched lobes, with just as many bangles on both wrists.
The few flickering flames in the room glisten off the fine gold. The long brown skirt she wears with the purple corset is striking in color against the shadows she sits within.
“You’re safe here.” She presents me a goblet of water, and when I look at the offering suspiciously, she adds, “I wouldn’t have gone to so much effort to bring you back if I wanted to kill you.”
I go to speak, but my mouth is too parched, despite having felt like I’ve been drowning for… ever? The taste of salt has long destroyed my taste buds, and I slowly accept the goblet and gulp.
I regret it immediately. As soon as the water enters my stomach, nausea hits me from how greedy I’ve become. As if expectantly, she offers me a wooden bowl that I throw up in.
Great amusement seems to dance in her eyes, and I send her a scathing glare for her ill humor.
“You’re like a rabid animal,” she says and stands from her stool. “Don’t be too hyper or you’ll undo your stitching.” She points at my ribs. Bandages are wrapped around my chest and stomach.
As she steps closer to the candlelight, and with clearer lighting, I can see that although her irises are definitely yellow, they have a milky film over them.
Where I might’ve once thought her timeless, I now see age and wisdom.
Gray hair cascades around her face in lumps of matted curls.
Her magic rubs against mine curiously, a soothing effect is present.
This woman is blessed by the Fates. I have met very few who so purely radiate with their whimsical presence.
Except only Selena with her satchel of bones.
However, my friend back in Caldom Kingdom made it very clear she despises their influence.
“You…” I swallow, moistening my mouth after the first word comes out as a rasp. “Saved me?”
She picks up an apple that sits beside a human skull.
That’s when I catch the glimmers of magic and death all in one.
My invisible chains rattle, perplexed by whatever is beneath me.
I look down, under the bed that I lie on, and a circle with strange symbols inside has been sketched in blood.
I’m not familiar with this type of magic, but whatever it is, I understand that it’s balanced somewhere between life and death.
A spirit greer.
“Regent saved you. I just struck a bargain with him to lift the curse. That’s all,” she says, throwing the apple toward me. My arms and ribs scream in pain as I catch it, my reflexes are off.
The beads that decorate the entrance to the tent are shoved to the side. A burly figure takes up the space with the darkness of night on his back until the tent closes once again. Eyes glare at me, shifting gold under the flickering flame.
Regent circles inside the tent, predatory-like, keeping his distance as he stalls in the shadows and then sits on an unoccupied stool, that cold expression never giving too much away.
The fact, however, that his face isn’t masked by clay, tells me more than I need to know. He trusts this greer.
The elderly woman takes away the empty goblet with bony fingers and limps toward the entrance with the support of a cane with a raven head carved atop. “I’ll fetch some more water.” The woman nods, almost reverently, toward Regent before she leaves.
“You’re not wearing your mask.” It’s the only thing I consider safe to state, among all the other things I want to ask him. I take a bite of the apple, my stomach grumbling, achingly so. Much like the water, it hurts the moment it hits my stomach, so I wait until I’m ready for another bite.
“It’s not necessary here.” His voice is rough, his expression haggard with dark circles beneath his eyes, looking as if he hasn’t slept in days.
Usually, Regent speaks ill of, well, everyone.
“Are these your people?” I take another bite of the apple, attempting indifference as I match his gaze. Those copper eyes have always been unnerving, especially when peering from the darkness, making him again look more predator than greer.
My heart hammers, a million demands of my body wanting to pull him closer, evidence of the magnetism between us. He leans forward, those flickering flames striking against his eyes as he tiredly hangs his arms over his knees.
Depleted. He looks absolutely exhausted. His magic not as vibrant as it usually is.
“I don’t have people.”
“I’m sure if you let your outstanding personality shine through, they’d flock to you.”
The edge of his mouth kicks up ever so slightly as he looks at his hands. It’s only then I notice the bandages wrapped around his arms and chest beneath the sleeveless, loose black shirt he wears, which is different from his battle-ready leather.
He’s always been so secretive about his markings, so whether he admits it or not, he trusts them.
Them. My chains weakly spread out past the tent, curious by the hits of magic it stumbles upon.
It’s similar to that of the greer who had helped me, but among them, beasts, neither Neina nor Felia blessed, alongside greers and humans.
I bite a piece of the apple and summon Grimace, who, much like me, seems to still be coming out of a stupor. I carry him from his shadow form into existence on top of my hand, offering him a piece of apple. He lazily takes it, remaining on his belly as he nestles into my palm.
I pat over his head, guilt flooding me at how careless I’ve been. The weight of what had happened hanging in the air. Though much of it only comes through in pieces. The guilt amplifies when I realize Regent is wounded because of me.
“You came back for me,” I say, finally daring to confront the truth.
“You’re of omni blood,” he states flatly, and a cold shudder runs over my body.
Will he sell me for a higher price? Will he overpower me and turn me into a randor blade? Will he return me to my kingdom, only for a handsome reward?