Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
The Storm
Istomped over the wildflowers, leaving a path of destruction to the damn horse. I gripped the saddle and hauled myself up the side of the enormous beast. It reared beneath me, but I clung on and pulled myself onto its back.
“Good girl,” the Commander praised, mounting the horse behind me.
I hated the small thrill that coiled in my stomach from his praise.
His powerful thighs gripped the horse with commanding strength, pressing in tightly against me.
Cerilla and Solas were already on their horses, locked in a heated discussion that had stopped the moment I had entered the clearing.
The Commander kicked the beast’s side as he took off.
Every surge of the animal beneath us rocked my sore hips forward, forcing my body to move in time with his.
The saddle bit into tender muscles already aching, and I could feel every breath he took, every shift of muscle, as if I were an extension of him.
I was trapped between the beast’s pounding stride and the iron heat of his body.
The forest blurred around us in a rush of green and gold.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, scattering patterns across wildflowers and moss below, as if nature itself refused to stay still.
But the growing clouds looked like they would drown out the sun’s heat any moment.
“You get one question,” he said suddenly, his voice low and close. But I had a thousand questions. I stayed quiet for a moment, thinking what to ask. I felt like he wouldn’t tell me what I was even if I asked.
“Why do you need me?” I asked, but the underlying question bled through. Why not just let me die?
“What a waste of a question,” he scoffed, hand clenching around the reins until his knuckles turned white.
“Your power imbued into weapons can kill my enemy,” he answered.
I hadn’t expected him to tell me the truth, and it only fuelled my fire for answers.
“What does it mean to imbue a weapon? And who is your enemy?”
A soft, mocking sound escaped him, almost a chuckle. “Greedy little thing,” he murmured, leaning close enough for his breath to tickle the shell of my ear. “You are reaching for answers you haven’t earned.”
I ground my teeth together. Of course he wouldn’t keep answering my questions.
We rode in silence for hours, my muscles straining from trying to keep from pressing against his body.
The sky was dimming, not from nightfall but from storm clouds. Thick, heavy clouds churned above us, laced with veins of silver lightning that flickered like a warning from the estranged Gods.
“Gods, what is that?” The clouds above rumbled, a sound so deep I felt it in my bones.
“It’s strange that you say, ‘Gods’ all of the time.” Another question shut down.
Solas cantered up beside us on his speckled horse. “What is your plan?” Solas gestured up to the swirling clouds that reminded me of Riven.
“Scout ahead for coverage,” the Commander ordered.
Solas gave a curt nod, squeezing his heels against the horse and flicking the reins.
He sped off through the trees, towards the mountain ranges at our side.
The Commander pulled back on the horse’s reins, Winston.
In my hours of boredom on his back, I had decided that was his name.
Winston slowed to keep pace next to Cerilla, who stared at the sky with wild eyes.
“It’s going to be alright, Ceri,” The Commander grumbled towards his sister.
She gave him a tight-lipped smile, but the fear didn’t budge from her eyes. The sky lit up with a white blinding light followed by a loud crack that echoed through the trees. I gasped in shock, our horses rearing beneath us.
Solas galloped towards us. “Follow me!” he yelled over the rumbling.
We launched forwards, the gallop of the horses’ hooves not loud enough to drown out the rumbling above us.
A drop of water landed on my hand, and I glanced up at the clouds.
Another bright flash of lightning flared, branching off in several directions before a deafening boom made me jump.
The sky opened, heavy drops of water pelting down over us.
My clothes were instantly drenched. I gripped the saddle, squeezing my legs for extra grip.
We raced through the forest, towards the mountains.
Solas slowed as we got closer, leading us to a gap in the rockface.
The Commander swung out of the saddle behind me, gathering the reins of the horses to lead them out of the storm.
I wiped a hand down my face to clear the water from my eyes while the Commander helped Cerilla from her horse. She didn’t just look frightened anymore; she looked almost sick.
I gritted my teeth as he left me sitting in the saddle helplessly. Instead of getting me off the horse, he guided his sister into the darkness of the cave.
I threw myself over the saddle, slipping awkwardly, but catching myself before I fell.
I stood at the entrance of the cave, watching the trees bend against the wind and the sky flash violently with branches of white light that made me flinch.
“Come away from there, it isn’t safe,” Solas said from behind me.
I was almost mesmerised in its destructive beauty. Lumireth was beautiful one moment and trying to kill us the next. I took a small step back from the storm, but kept my eyes trained on the angry sky.
“Earlier, you said I am to help with the monster problem. How?”
“You’re going to get me in trouble,” Solas sighed from beside me. I expected him to say nothing, the sound of the rain pounding into the ground stretching between us.
“I do not know what history Mortals are taught but there is a prophecy about—”
“The Sea Goddess rising again. I know. But what does that have to do with me?”
“The Commander is the only one who can kill the monsters. But once you absorb the Soul Relics, imbuing your power into weapons will let us all stand a chance. You could save so many of my people’s lives.”
“Why can the Commander kill them?” A loud rumble of thunder followed by bright streaks of light made me startle.
Solas gently placed his hand around my arm and pulled me backwards into the cave. “Come on, it is dangerous and will last hours.” He led me further into the cave, past the nervous horses and into the narrow entrance where the Commander and Cerilla had disappeared.
The fire threw restless shadows across the cave walls, their shapes flickering in and out of the dark. We were sheltered, but the storm still raged outside. The thunder wasn’t softened by the stone. It rolled through the mountain like the growl of something ancient.
Cerilla paced near the back of the cave, fingers twisting nervously in her dark hair. Solas lounged against a rock, a blood bag in hand, the picture of calm in contrast to her restlessness. “Thank you, brother,” Cerilla said, taking a metal travel cup from the Commander’s hands before frowning.
“I’m sorry it’s cold,” he murmured as he guided her to a blanket that he had laid out for her.
“It’s fine.” She took a small sip, forcing a smile to mask the grimace that flickered across her face. “The ingredients will still work.”
My chest tightened in a way I didn’t recognise, and I turned away before I could see more of it. Before I could watch him soften, before I could watch the Commander of Death become something other than my captor. What would it feel like to have someone care for you?
I glanced back, curiosity betraying me. The Commander was helping her get comfortable when Solas caught me watching them.
“Cerilla’s powers are blocked during storms,” he explained quietly, voice barely above a whisper.
“Solas,” the Commander growled in warning, shooting a glare at the warrior that then settled on me. A shiver shot through me; did he see me as a threat to his sister?
“May I?” I asked, stepping closer. Cerilla hesitated before passing me the cup. The bitter scent of herbs hit me like a wall. “What is it?”
“A sleeping brew,” she said softly. “Not having access to my power makes me… anxious. It’s easier to rest through them.”
I nodded, closing my eyes. Power thrummed through my veins, wild and familiar. The water in the cup whispered to me, waiting for my command. I drew in a breath and began to hum, the melody soft and haunting, the kind that made the air itself listen.
Heat, I told it. Within moments, the surface of the brew rippled and steamed. The tin cup seared against my palms. Cerilla took the cup from me slowly, staring down at it as if it might bite her.
“Thanks,” she said quietly before sitting next to Solas to drink her tea. Perhaps she was just on edge from the storm. But the way she avoided my eyes made me wonder if it wasn’t just the storm that made her nervous.
Hours passed. Hours of endless rumbling from the sky.
The rain had eased, enough for the distinctive clicking of a Skanthi to echo through the trees outside between booms of thunder.
A sound I had never heard before, an eerie rattle had also joined the chorus of horrifying noises.
I didn’t know what it was, but I knew in my bones it was another monster.
At this stage, I wished I could go to sleep.
My nightmares would feel like a reprieve.
The others had long been asleep, the fire embers barely glowing.
As soon as night had fallen, Solas had extinguished it.
He said it would attract more unwanted friends.
I sat up with a frustrated sigh, running my hands through my damp hair.
“Can’t sleep?” The Commander’s voice came from the darkness. It was low and rough, but softer than I’d ever heard it. The fire had burned down to embers, painting him in faint orange light. No shadows withered over his skin, and it made him look almost normal.
“Not with that noise,” I murmured, nodding towards the mouth of the cave. If I closed my eyes and a monster attacked, would I even wake before it ripped me limb from limb?
“I have a question for you,” he mused, muscles flexing as he rested one arm behind his head.
I said nothing, hoping he would leave me alone. But he asked anyway.
“When I took you, Cerilla said the wounds on your arms were older,” he stated simply. “Self-inflicted, perhaps.”
My jaw tightened. I wasn’t going to tell him I’d done them to myself, that I was so ashamed of what I was that I had tried to bleed it from myself to save Riven. “You’re asking questions you haven’t earnt.” I threw his words back at him. Gods, I hoped Cerilla hadn’t seen the scars on my back.
He chuckled, not the mocking sound I was used to, but a genuine laugh. Its rich timbre tones made my toes curl and made me shift uncomfortably.
“Do you have a question?” he asked after a moment.
The silence stretched between us. It was thick and uneasy, but not hostile. For once, he didn’t look like the Commander of Death. He just looked… haunted. I could ask so many questions. But I was beyond exhausted, and I couldn’t handle the weight of answers right now.
“Do you ever sleep?” I asked quietly.
Another chuckle. Gods damn it, why did I like that sound?
“That’s what you’re asking me?”
I glared at him through the dim orange light, and his grin told me he could see it.
“Not when I can help it,” he answered. I wasn’t expecting him to answer, or to overly care about his response. But I sat up and brought my knees to my chest.
“Nightmares?” I wondered, almost curiously.
“Memories,” he corrected. His eyes flicked to the mouth of the cave, where rain still dripped from the stone. “Sometimes the two are the same.”
I hesitated before speaking again, my voice barely a whisper against the rainfall. “I get nightmares too.”
His eyes found mine once more. “I know.”
The words hung there, cold and sharp, until he added, “I can tell. You exist like a shadow of yourself.” He said the words so gentle that gooseflesh pebbled on my skin.
“You hesitate before speaking, then flinch for speaking your mind. You move like someone waiting to be struck, and you keep throwing yourself at death as if you’re begging it to take you.
Yesterday, when I pulled you back, you didn’t want saving.
You wanted to die. Whatever made you that way, I’m not surprised you have nightmares. ”
I should have looked away. I didn’t. His words settled under my skin, heavy and invasive, like fingers pressing against an old bruise to see how much it still hurt.
No one had ever said those things out loud before.
They had seen the obedience. The silence.
The broken girl who learned when not to speak.
But he had named the rest of it— the waiting, the flinching, the wanting it to end.
And that terrified me more than his threats ever had.
There was something behind his voice that made me stare at him in a new light.
It wasn’t a threat, not mockery, not sarcasm.
It sounded like empathy spoken by someone who had struggled and saw the same demons staring back at him.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snapped, though the bite in my voice dulled as soon as it left me. His gaze didn’t harden. It didn’t soften either. It simply waited.
I tore my eyes away first, fixing them on the dying embers. On anything that wasn’t the quiet understanding in his expression.
“You don’t get to look at me like that,” I said, lower now. “You know nothing about me.”
Because if he did… If anyone ever truly did, then I wouldn’t be able to pretend I was okay. And I had built my entire existence on pretending.
He stared at me for a long moment, contemplating. As though he were going to say something else, but instead, he leaned back against the rock, settling in. “Go to sleep, Drownling,” he murmured, though it didn’t sound like an order this time. “I’ll keep you safe from the monsters.”
I laid back down and turned away from him, but a faint smile ghosted my lips.
The storm roared outside, but inside the cave, something between us changed.
I still hated him. Still wanted to sink my axe into his neck and watch the blood spray like rain.
Because hatred was easier than admitting that, for one unguarded moment, he was the one person in this world who had truly seen me.