10. Chapter 10 #2
She whirled to face him, a mixture of hurt and anger bubbling beneath her skin. “I am a human healer,” she said. “I’m ‘completely unremarkable.’ What could I possibly have to do with any of this? And even if I did, what is it, exactly, that you expect me to do?”
He stared at her, waves of tension rolling off of him as a muscle feathered in his jaw, as though he grappled with puzzle pieces that wouldn’t quite come together. “Come with me to Dunovar. The Seers, their Scholars - if anyone has the cure, it will be them.”
She let out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head.
He took a step forward, blocking her path, his voice dangerously low as impatience bled through his tone.
“Listen to me. These dreams, these visions, are not sent without reason. Their events are not hypothetical. What I saw will come to pass. This disease will tear apart the realms —including yours — leaving only death and destruction in its wake.”
“I don’t believe you,” Isla said, even as a chill slipped down her spine.
“You should. I am not one to tell tales,” he responded. He flinched, then, as though he’d been struck by something. Isla’s eyes flicked over his expression, distracted, before she stepped around him.
“If you need a healer, there are several in town,” she said, turning to dismiss him again. His fingers closed around her wrist, firm but gentle as he pulled her back around to face him.
She took a sharp intake of breath. His skin was warm against hers, and he stood close enough now that his breath skated over her face as he spoke.
“No. It’s you I need.” His deep voice seemed to vibrate through his chest, down his arm to his fingers, melting into her own body as he leaned farther into her space.
She shivered involuntarily as he continued, “It was you I saw in my dream. Finding you was no coincidence. I will see you safely to Dunovar to get the answers we need.”
Her heartbeat hammered in her throat.
“Better idea,” she said, her voice less confident than before. Vaelin’s eyes flicked to where her pulse fluttered in her throat. “You go to Dunovar. I have responsibilities here.”
Tension stretched between them, thick and heavy as he looked at her with frustration.
He hadn’t expected her to refuse him — an unwelcome surprise.
But he needed her to hear him. A phantom echo of Sereth’s screams rang through his head, and he flinched, leaning in to anger in an effort to drown the rising tide of grief.
“I’ve known others who required convincing before they would act,” he heard himself snap. “They regretted it. You will too.”
The healer looked at him then with such disgust that he nearly flinched again.
She pulled her wrist from his grip and he released her instantly, something strange twisting in his chest at the loss of contact.
He flexed his fingers as if to shake off the feeling, setting his jaw as he planted his other hand on the pommel of his sword.
A moment of silence passed before her voice rang through the clearing, determined and angry, “I won’t drop everything to journey halfway across the continent based on your hunch. There are people here I am responsible for.”
The tether on his patience snapped. “If we don't go now, there will be no one left in this village for you to be responsible for,” he growled, glaring at her.
She recoiled as if he’d landed a physical blow, but offered nothing in response. What didn’t she understand?
“What is wrong with you?” she asked, her eyes flashing.
He pressed his palms to his eyes as Sereth’s haunting words rose in his memory.
And beneath it all…something stirred. Something ancient. Primordial. Armies of shadow rose from the darkness, bleeding the realms dry, leaving nothing but blood and ash…
Sereth’s vision had warned of more than just this fatal illness.
The catastrophic, realm-shattering disaster and looming threat of war with an intangible enemy seemed to wrap itself around Vaelin’s neck like a noose.
There was far more at stake here than she knew.
Still, he was hesitant to share the whole truth with her.
He’d assumed she’d be more likely swayed by the threat of the illness, and he didn’t want to scare her.
But now, as his gaze passed over the determination in her eye and the stubborn set of her jaw, he warred with his decision, wondering just how much of the truth this girl could handle.
As though sensing he was gearing up for a renewed argument, she shook her head firmly, “I’m not leaving my people.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer, something clenching low in his gut. Then, he turned on his heel and marched farther into the forest, leaving her standing alone in the clearing.
The earth ground beneath his boots as he stalked deeper into the forest, pushing away errant branches that reached to snag at his cloak.
A light breeze rustled the earth, sending gravel and fallen leaves swirling in the air and he loosed an irritable gust of his own, his wind blowing the debris out of his path.
Why must the Gods saddle him with an infuriating, idealistic human girl?
Perhaps he’d be better off seeking Rowanmere’s head healer — he’d been told the woman was older, more seasoned, and perhaps more willing to see reason.
And yet… something in him told him it had to be her.
The feeling of certainty gnawed at him, like a word just out of reach.
It went beyond having seen her in his dream.
For reasons he could not begin to understand, he knew it was imperative that he convince her to make this trip to Dunovar, much as he’d like to leave her behind. He ground his teeth in frustration.
The sudden snap of a branch beneath his boot echoed through the forest and he faltered, as though his knees threatened to suddenly buckle.
Thrusting a hand out to grip the trunk of a nearby tree, he dug the tips of his fingers into the deep grooves of the bark, a texture so alien to him, so unlike the smooth rock throughout Vaelora.
He squeezed his eyes shut as though it might halt the memory, but the echo of Sereth’s scream crashed into him again, her pyre of starfire snapping and crackling, the smell of burnt hair invading his nose. He shook his head, growling.
Slowly, the image faded, his breath steadying. But his mind drifted. How many had fallen to the Withering since he had taken his leave? Would Aurelia and Evric be waiting for him in the Pass as planned? Had either of them — no.
He closed his eyes against the dark thoughts, filling his nose with the unfamiliar, earthy scents of the forest. An image of Isla rose again in his mind as though summoned by the smells and sounds of the realm he stood in, brows drawn in some combination of stubbornness and deep concern.
With a heavy exhale, he turned back down the path, this time toward town.