25. Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Over the next couple of months, they fell into a routine.
Storms would hit, causing them to bide their time in their shelters as best they could, and when they cleared, Ty and the others would go out hunting again—trying desperately to replenish their stores of meat and blood before the next storm.
Ty’s venator was coveted, as usual, but he was impressed nonetheless with the stryx’s hunting abilities—and especially their bow design, which was significantly more efficient and deadlier than daemonic bows.
Meanwhile, Ena’s womb continued to grow, and she roped Turner into helping her harvest whatever plants they could find. Between all those efforts, they were able to cobble together a sufficient diet—but it was touch and go sometimes, and Ty worried.
As Max had warned them, game was difficult to find, and keeping up with the stryx’s need for blood was a constant effort. Luckily, Ena only needed his blood, but the rest of the stryx were not so lucky.
Ty and Max had been out on one such fruitless hunt for days when Ty finally broached the sensitive topic.
“Max,” he said, as the two of them walked through a particularly dense part of the forest. The early-dawn light had quickly turned to full day, and Ty knew the herd of elk they’d been following had long since passed through here. He could barely smell them at all.
The older man looked at him, his black eyes filled with worry. “I know. You do not have to say it. We have lost the trail.”
Ty could sense his desperation.
“Are there any other spots we haven’t been to yet? Maybe by a different camp?” he asked.
Max shook his head. “This area is the best this time of year. If this is all there is here…then this is all there is.”
Ty’s heart sank for the stryx. He, Turner, and Ena would probably be okay with the meat they could find, given that the stryx didn’t eat much of it, as long as the storms allowed them to get out and hunt still. But without more blood, the stryx would weaken.
“Where else can your people go? Is there anywhere else?” Ty asked, feeling like he needed to do something to help these people who had been so welcoming to him, Ena, and Turner in their time of need.
“We have tried, as you know, to send others over the Chasm Mountains, to see if it is better there. To see if we would be welcome once more. But this side of it…the storms are everywhere and they are pushing the game out. The game that remains acts strangely—desperate. Has trouble reproducing.”
“How long has it been like this?” Ty asked.
“It has gotten progressively worse since I was born, but the stories that have passed down through generations tell us it started about two centuries ago.”
“Two centuries ago?” Ty echoed, his brow furrowing. “You mean, around the time the daemons were bound to Iblis?”
“Yes,” Max said, his meaning implicit.
“Do you think it is related?”
“The stryx believe so, yes. What the witches did, severing an entire people from certain parts of Omnis, caused a disturbance in Omnis, and it had ripple effects beyond what the daemons experienced.”
“But we broke the bond. Shouldn’t things go back to normal now?”
“I believe they will, in due time. But you cannot just snap your fingers and undo centuries of impact. It will take time, perhaps another couple of centuries, for things to go back to the way they should be.”
Ty felt his heart wrench for the stryx. None of this was fair to them, and it made him furious anew at the witches who had caused all this. But more than that—it made him afraid.
Because if it would take centuries for things to right themselves here, then it was clear to him what needed to be done.
They couldn’t stay here. None of them could.
He, Ena, and Turner had fled here, looking for a safe place to deliver the baby. He’d been so focused on that, he hadn’t given much thought to what would come after. But now, it hit him like a ton of bricks.
They would have to return to their side of the Chasm Mountains. And soon.
“What will you all do?” Ty asked him, the weight of the situation heavy between them. “Will you try again to come over the Chasm Mountains?”
“I am not sure there is a place for us there. Not with the tensions you have described between witches and daemons. We may just have to hold out hope for the birth of the Draco.”
“The birth of the what?” Ty asked in confusion.
Max gave him a melancholic smile. “It is a prophecy, handed down among the stryx since before we parted from witches and daemons. As you could imagine, there were…tensions over our different beliefs, the different way we see things. But still, the stryx did not want to leave our homes, despite the conflicts that had arisen between our peoples. Then, a seer who was friendly to us had a vision. He saw the stryx, witches, daemons, and mortals living in prosperity and peace together. It was this message of hope that convinced the stryx to leave—knowing that one day, they would be able to return and live amongst the other races once more.”
“What did the prophecy say?”
“That the balance between the races, and the peaceful vision he had seen, would begin with the birth of the Draco.”
“The Draco?” Ty’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he felt a vague memory arise in his mind.
Him and Ena, sitting on the banks of the River Wry, that summer almost ten years ago.
Ena was showing him the stars, and the constellations, and one of them was of a creature that Ena said either used to exist, or would exist one day. She called it a Draco.
“You mean, like the one in the stars?” Ty asked, putting two and two together.
“Yes,” Max said, looking up at the cloud-filled sky, as if he could almost see it. “One and the same. A new being for a new era.”
Ty thought it was a nice story—another interesting facet of stryx lore—but he personally put no stock in myths and prophecies.
At this moment, he was concerned only about what was right in front of him.
And right now, he knew something needed to be done—for him, Ena, and Turner, as well as the stryx.
Turning around, and gesturing at Max to follow him, Ty began to head back towards camp. He needed to speak to Ena and Turner about all this, as soon as possible.