20. Romeo #2
“Now,” he began as everyone settled into their seats, his deep voice carrying a steady authority, “as you are all aware, there has been an increasing threat near the periphery of Night Sky Forest. At nearly every edge of the Forest, more and more citizens disappear each day. Many of these villages report deliberate interactions between the scytherax and humans, often through violence or intimidation, in an apparent effort to gather information.”
A ripple of murmurs broke out, uneasy voices filling the room.
Velo raised a hand, and the chatter was silenced. “We now have reason to believe their focus may soon shift—to the city, to Asilia itself.”
The king’s gaze shifted to Flora, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. “The scythes are not acting without purpose,” he continued. “They are looking for someone.”
Velo didn’t expand immediately. Instead, he looked to Heron, who glared back at the king with a dark look that Flora almost would have taken as a threat.
“Florabelle,” Levora spoke, her voice cutting through the silence. Noec inhaled sharply. Flora blinked, her mouth suddenly dry.
“The Shadowkeeper seeks the Sleepwalker. And he knows she is among us,” Velo explained, leaning forward, his expression somber as he met the eyes of everyone in the room. “And while we may not know exactly why he is hunting her, we do know that he has gone to great lengths to find her.”
Flora was acutely aware of the stillness in the air as she felt the eyes of everyone at the table settle on her.
“So, what do you suggest we do?” a voice rang. Nervous glances were exchanged in response. Heron’s cautioning glare remained on the king.
“We protect her,” Heron answered sternly. “We protect Flora, because there is nowhere safer for her to be than within the walls of Asilia. And because she’s one of us.”
Mumbles of disapproval rolled through the room, with some faces looking to the king for reassurance. Flora felt a bead of sweat roll down her face, dodging glances from frazzled strangers. She didn’t even know their names, yet she dared to call herself one of them.
But was she?
King Velo sighed. “I agree with Heron,” he said, his eyes darting empathetically to Flora. “She is… one of us. We will line our walls with harpooners and wait for whatever comes. The Sleepwalker must be protected if the gateway is to remain open.”
The room erupted into discord, with voices demanding answers.
“We can’t risk being targeted by those monsters,” one man objected. “Who knows how many of them there are by now. If they wanted to, why, they could wipe this entire city off the map.”
They were afraid, and not without good reason. How much carnage was one traveller worth?
None.
Flora sighed, closing her eyes.
After a moment, she opened her eyes, steadying herself against the turmoil in the room. When she spoke, her voice was a calm and steadfast contrast to the clamor.
“If I may offer an alternative, King Velo,” she began. Her composure drew all eyes to her, the weight of the moment resting heavily on her shoulders. Velo gestured for her to continue.
“If my presence places the capital of this kingdom in danger, then perhaps…” Her voice faltered as Noec’s hand tightened around hers beneath the table.
She glanced at him, his nervous grip urging her to stop.
Still, she pushed on, her voice quieter but firm.
“... perhaps it would be best to give them what they’re after, before things can get that far. ”
The babble of the room drew silent.
“No.” Noec’s voice was low. His grip on her hand tightened further. “No. I won’t let that happen. I’ll fend them off myself if I have to.”
King Velo’s expression shifted, a flicker of admiration crossing his face. “A fire just like your father’s,” he mused. “Though, Noec, all options must be considered.”
“Lunara blind me,” Heron grumbled through gritted teeth. “Velo, you can’t be considering it.”
“I’m not,” Velo assured him calmly, though his brow furrowed. “I’m just... absent of better ideas.”
The room teetered on quiet despair. Breaking the frigid silence was a soft giggle, a giggle from the woman leaning in the corner with the rusty brown hair.
“Well then,” Aria said, her giggle fading into a deep, breathy sigh. “I’ve got one. But, I assure you, none of you are going to like it.”
Her glasses caught the pale light, and her words lingered in the air like a storm on the horizon. All eyes turned to her as she stepped into the light, her gaze sharp and unyielding.
“Speak, Aria,” King Velo urged, his voice tinged with exhaustion.
Aria’s smirk widened, her voice dripping with intrigue.
“Once upon a time,” she started, “a scythe attacked two children near the Shrouded Village.” Gesturing lightly toward Flora and Noec, she continued, “By Lunara’s grace, the children defeated the monster, leaving behind a shattered scythe corpse, its blood pooling on the earth.
” Slowly, she stepped along behind them.
“The next day,” she recalled, “the cleric of the village arrived to examine the scene and noticed something remarkable.” Aria tapped the back of Flora’s chair and grinned.
“A dying tree near the spring—its trunk blackened with disease, its branches bare—suddenly began to sprout new leaves.
Nothing had changed, she noted, but that the slain scythe's blood had seeped into the roots.”
As interest rippled through the room, Flora and Noec shared a confused glance.
“And so began a new era of my and Sona’s medical research,” Aria continued.
“The applications seemed to be endless—that was, until we began trialing our medicine on live animals.” She halted at the far end of the table and said, “For twenty-four hours after injection, each subject entered an excruciating frenzy—one of blind, indiscriminate rage. For those fortunate enough to survive, it was as if they emerged stronger than ever, reborn absent of frailty and disease.”
“The animal tests…” Aria grinned slowly.
“They went beautifully.” She paused, savoring the tension.
Her voice dropped, and her eyes narrowed as she continued, “But humans? Sona couldn’t bring herself to cross that line.
The blood erased infections in human tissue samples, healed cancers in cadavers—it was miraculous.
But it was unethical, as she called it, to inflict such suffering on living human beings, even if it could save their lives.
Unethical, even, to continue hunting creatures of human-like intelligence for our work. ”
“But me?” Aria’s voice hardened. “I kept going. I perfected the sterilization and preservation of their blood—stabilizing it to where it could be utilized medicinally in animals with minimal occurrence of deaths from rejection.” Her fist clenched.
“Yet no matter what I did, there was no escaping the twenty-four hour rage that tore my subjects apart.”
Her eyes swept the room, ensuring she had everyone’s attention.
“When Sona’s brother fell gravely ill, she had no choice.
Despite her doubts and fears, she knew it would work.
She turned to the blood.” Aria paused for effect.
“And when the brutality of the rage had passed—for the very first time in a human being…” She grinned. “...the medicine worked.”