14. Thaola #2
Flora had read through all of Sona’s medicinal journals, but that technique wasn’t ringing a bell.
“Aria’s blood,” Thaola said, as if it added one bit of clarity.
Flora studied Thaola’s face, trying to understand. “If you know anything, you know a lot more than I do,” she said.
“I very well may,” Thaola admitted with a sigh, but her posture seemed to stiffen, her eyes just a tad wider as though she had said something she shouldn’t have.
“Tell me,” Flora pleaded, and when Thaola pursed her lips and didn’t respond, Flora’s gaze fixed upon the hastily healed scar across Sona’s lip and left eye. “Please,” she said quietly. “I’m worried I’ll be next.”
Thaola fell silent, her eyes distant upon the casket by the water. She laid her lily among the others, then sighed.
“I don’t see what harm it’ll do now,” she said finally. “Come, follow me.”
Curious, Flora followed Thaola to her weathered, wooden hut, where the twins sat weaving outside.
Their father must’ve been tall, Flora thought.
The twins had both grown into spindly teens, much taller than their mother, even though they were only about as old as Feya would’ve been.
They were tall, sure, but together, they were about as childish and conniving as it gets.
Today, though, even Zana and Mari’s ever-lively faces seemed sunken from the weight of the past few days.
Inside, Thaola closed the door firmly and motioned toward the small table. She pulled out a chair and gestured for Flora to sit. “I’m not out of my mind,” Thaola began, her voice steady but burdened. “You must understand—what happened to my husband led me to pursue this.”
Flora nodded, her curiosity tempered by concern. “Alright,” she said slowly. “Tell me everything you can.”
Thaola sighed heavily. “The night after we removed Sona’s body, I went back to her house,” she confessed, her red hair catching the warm glow of the candle light. “I found her... letters. From Aria.”
Flora tilted her head, surprised. “I thought they had a falling out,” she replied. “I thought they hadn’t spoken in years.”
“That’s true,” Thaola said, shifting back and crossing her arms, “or at least it was, until Perri became ill.”
“I don’t understand,” Flora said. “How would Aria’s blood affect Perri?”
“Scythe blood, Flora,” Thaola clarified, her gaze locking onto Flora’s. “The scythe blood that Aria studied is a medicine. It cures illness, the way Lunara’s water heals wounds.”
Flora stared back in bewilderment, unsure if she could understand what she had just heard.
“Aria has been testing it for years,” Thaola continued, “on sick cats, dogs—anything she could get her hands on.” Carefully, she turned and pried a stack of papers from between two books on a shelf.
“Her letters say that the ones who survived at least twenty-four hours after injection often emerged stronger than ever, seemingly wiped of any present illness.”
Flora breathed deeply, looking off in thought. “Sona thought it could save Perri,” she concluded quietly.
Thaola nodded. “Sona kept her distance because, while there can be no debating Aria’s brilliance, her ethics have always been...
questionable.” Her gaze fell to the stack of papers in her hands as she set them on the edge of the table.
“Sona knew of Aria’s research, but she didn’t want to try her medicine. Not until they were out of options.”
“Why?” Flora inquired.
Thaola sighed, settling into a chair at Flora’s side.
“Because,” she began quietly, “according to Aria’s letters…
” Thaola paused, flipping through the letters until she found what she was searching for.
“… in regaining your strength,” she read, “the blood poisons the soul with the very essence of a scythe's demeanor.”
Flora shifted uneasily, her hands clasping together. “And that is...?”
“Rage,” Thaola replied somberly. Her eyes locked with Flora’s. “Blind, indiscriminate rage.”
Perri’s final flurry of anger flashed vividly in Flora’s mind.
Then, almost inaudibly, Flora whispered, “Noec.”
Thaola’s gaze dropped to her hands as she muttered, “So, the scythe blood in the creek... it did reach him. It’s happening to him, too?”
Flora nodded slowly, panic rising in her chest.
“I wondered. I worried.” Thaola's expression became heavy when she asked, “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know,” Flora admitted, tense. “He ran off as soon as we got here.” Flora’s wide, worried eyes met Thaola’s. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“I’m not sure.” Thaola bit her lip, then cautioned, “But, I trust that Noec’s keeping his distance for good reason.”
Flora sighed and shook her head, unsatisfied. “Thaola,” she started, “do you mind if I run by the Eldon house to grab something?”
“I…” Thaola began as Flora rushed out the door. “... suppose?”
Flora hurried along the stream toward the Eldon house, just as the sun began flaring with its midday intensity. Splatterings of dried purple and crimson still stained the ground from the day before, but the scythe had dissolved into no more than a pile of ash at the water’s edge.
As Flora neared the house, a flash of vivid red in the grass caught her eye.
Looking closer, she found Noec’s dagger buried in the leaves, still darkened with violet like spilled ink.
She found his bag nearby, too. Flora tied the severed strap back together and threw it over her shoulder, tossing his blade inside.
She slowly creaked open the door. No one was home, but there it was, right where she had left it on the old red couch.
“Thaola?” she said once she had returned to Thaola’s home. She pulled Sona’s journal from the bag and set it on the table. “I think we have some reading to do.”
“Whatever happens, no one is better suited to handle it than him,” Thaola said, reading Flora’s panic as she stood by the door, gathering her children for Perri and Sona’s final farewell.
Flora remained seated at the table, staring at the closed journal.
A gentle hand touched her arm, and she looked up to meet the stormy gray of Thaola’s eyes.
“Flora, dear,” she reassured, “Noec is smart, and he is strong.”
Bitterly, Flora replied, “So was Perri.”
Afternoon rolled into evening, and as each grueling hour passed, Noec remained out of sight.
Aonia had ridden down for the ceremony, accompanied by her newly assigned bodyguard, Grease.
He carried a sword at his side and a bow at his back, and he looked fitting to his name—serious, rugged, and maybe just a smidge sweatier than average.
On his wrist was a simple black triangle.
Like Sona’s cleric tattoo, it was a mark of his trade—the mark of a Hunter.
And for the foreseeable future, if Aonia intended to continue visiting a village where scythe attacks were being reported, Grease was to remain ever in her shadow.
He waited off by her horse, scanning the skyline as the ceremony commenced. Still, no sign of Noec.
“There’s nothing we can do, is there?” Aonia muttered, dangling her legs in the cold tug of the current. “He’s in the Forest, I guarantee. Because there isn’t a thing left alive for him to harm in there.”
“But there is plenty that can harm him,” Flora said quietly, watching as the sun set below the trees, a halo of peach and blood orange fading behind the falling leaves.
Aonia pressed her knuckles together and closed her eyes. “Yesterday, he was a walking miracle.” She exhaled through pursed lips. “Today, he’s just going to die like it was all for nothing.”
He won’t, Flora wanted to say, but the princess had heard enough lies of encouragement these last few days.
Aonia rolled a pink stone in her hand, a precious gift from Perri that would forever carry her memories of him.
She covered her mouth with her hand, and Flora, unable to offer comfort, could only watch in silence as she wept.
Aonia had made herself one of them so that she could escape the seriousness of a future queen’s responsibilities.
But tonight, her carefree friendships were just another weight on her shoulders.
Flora’s thoughts grew numb as the reality of their situation set in.
If Noec didn’t return for Sona and Perri’s funeral, she would have to go after him.
Even if that meant setting foot in the Forest. That was the only thing she could do next, aside from nothing at all.
She feared the scythes, and she feared the dark.
But she had no fear greater than losing him again.
Flora watched the sky blanket the stream’s water in soft hues of pink and orange.
Calmly, the water flowed out of the lush woodlands between Lunara’s Spring and the village, carrying the sunset’s fragmented colors with it.
Flora’s eyes followed a small blue fish beneath the glassy water, its scales shimmering in the fading light as it wove between the rocks.
Aonia soon made her way to the dark wooden boxes, laid just by the stream where the heavy brush opened up to the village.
She placed a hand on her heart and bowed to the esteemed cleric of the Shrouded Village.
Then, hesitantly, her decorated fingers reached for Perri’s old, uneven necklace.
In her hands, the frayed leather and scratched beads were worth more than any jewel she wore.
She pressed the pendant to her lips, whispering a soft goodbye before setting it gently among his memories.
Her brunette hair, even deeper now than in their youth, caught the deep orange rays of the setting sun around its edges.
“Flora,” Elia’s voice called softly. “Do you mind if I join you?” she asked.
“Not at all,” Flora replied, offering a makeshift smile as Elia crossed her legs on the ground at her side. Elia’s warm brown eyes reflected the captivating sky above, and even now, those eyes were alive with compassion and wonder. Just like him.