CHAPTER VIII #10
One slow drink turns into two and I find myself not knowing what else to do or who else to talk to.
All I know, from the core of my being, is that I’m missing something.
That there’s something here in Etter that is too well guarded by the Discerni and humans alike.
And the worst part of it all is that I can’t talk about it openly, can’t mull through my thoughts with someone else.
Perhaps we should take a longer walk, move out of the village square and around the crowded homes, try to take a peek at whatever is in the sacks that everyone carries here.
Alanna looks at me curiously from across the table, our second round of drinks nearly gone. She wants to know the plan, so I let the options play around in my mind…
The first, is that we forgo whatever spark of adventure I felt after hearing Carsen in the woods.
That spark was already fading in this pub, and I found myself genuinely wanting to enjoy as much as possible on our last night.
It would also mean a lot to stay and let the humans see us interact together, not to mention the fact that I have no desire to go back to the residence and greet the unknown with Keane and Desmond.
The second is to leave. To actually take that walk and nosey around the village and homes, hoping to find something amiss.
I shake my head at the cool Discerni, my glance telling her that I’ve come up short in my quest and am open to doing anything at this point. Her thin lips tighten as she lets her gaze turn back towards the barkeep, her own brows furrowing in thought.
Cal reaches to his side, pulling out his pipe as he watches Alanna and I interact. I think he knows we’re going to be staying in place for a while, so he settles into his chair and grabs a small matchbook from his pocket, about to strike it against the smoke.
“Put that away, boy,” Morrow’s hand reaches quickly over Cal’s, his gaze frightened.
We all turn towards the man in confusion, watching as he snatches the match straight from Cal’s fingers. I glance over at Stefan with a frown, noticing that he’s also looking around the pub in fear.
“No smoking?” Cal laughs at the older man.
I let my gaze move across the room, only noticing now that there are no candles or fireplaces in this pub. In fact, I don’t remember seeing any flames in all of Etter since we’ve arrived, only the lanterns of bottled moonslight.
“No smoking,” Morrow grins softly in response, hiding his troubled features with feigned relaxation.
“How about outside?” I offer casually, leaning over the table with an outstretched hand. Cal places the pipe in my palm with the matchbook.
“No!” Stefan’s soft voice booms from behind the counter just as he walks towards us.
I raise my brows at the man in challenge. “No to outside? Or no to smoking in general?”
“Both,” he levels, “and I’m afraid I must ask you all to leave, Lady.”
I ignore the man as Holis stands swiftly in front of me, the Discerni stopping Stefan just before our table.
“Leave?” I eye the barkeep with a laugh, “we only aim for a simple smoke. Do not treat us as the same Discerni that grace this town, sir. We are not your enemy.”
“No,” Stefan shakes his head from behind Holis, “you’re not the same as them, but you’ll also be of no help. Leave us Lady, before you make things worse.”
His words hit me hard, sinking deep into my bones as I look back at the man who holds himself so passively, so fixed in his soft and fearful being. My parents lost their lives for this? For him? They fought against the Discerni here only so they could turn around and rule them with a hidden hand?
No.
They did not die in vain.
And I will not let the humans here forget their own power, nor their own worth.
I stare into the man’s eyes, letting my fiery hatred of this village push forward as I strike a match and stand up.
No.
I was done pretending.
I was done acting like all of this was normal.
I let the small flame light Cal’s pipe before I drop the match to the ground at my feet.
Stefan franticly presses against Holis when I do, his gaze not on the smoking pipe but on the match falling to the ground.
It lands, flicking off a tiny ember that catches on a stray piece of splintered wood from the table.
I look down curiously, watching as that smallest spark catches into the fastest flame I’ve ever seen.
“What have you done!” Stefan yells.
The Woodlands humans in the pub all stand from their chairs, the looks on their faces downright frightened as the whole of the room changes around us in an instant. Drastically.
Gone is the steady hum in the air, the sound lifting away as the ground at my feet turns into a muck of soot and old wood.
The flame from the match spreads even wider, catching more of the debris on the ground as the dirty floor begins to expand and pushes away the grey stone I thought we were all standing on.
The change is abnormal, so quick that it’s outright unbelievable…
and yet the more and more the flames expand, the more they eat away at the perfectly constructed illusion of this room.
Mana stands up swiftly beside me, his eyes going wide and watching the same thing unfold.
The fire licks at the edge of our table, turning it into a dingey and well-worn wood and not the proper mahogany we all thought we were sitting at.
I shake my head in disbelief, watching as the bottom of the stone wall to my left also catches a flicker, the dull grey transforming into slats of old brown wood, haggard in its being.
Alanna stands up in shock as well, staring at the foot of the wall as it transforms into an almost dingy hut at my side. Stefan takes a hard step around Holis, stamping out what remains of the fire as Morrow does the same.
“What the fuck was that!” Alanna accuses, eyeing the ground and table below us as the flames disappear. Before we can even comprehend what is happening, the area of the pub starts to return back to normal.
“Out!” Stefan yells, letting his eyes fall on mine in hatred. “All of you, out!”
“It’s an illusion,” I grimace at the man, my heart pounding against my chest as both Jens and Morrow turn towards Stefan in fear, not knowing what to do.
I’m about to demand an explanation when the door to the pub opens and Carsen walks through the door, his face hardened as he stares right at our group.
I hastily step over the burned match on the ground, hiding it under my boot just as Holis pats Stefan on the back, grinning affectionately.
“Thank you for the hospitality, friend,” he says casually.
I quickly move Cal’s pipe and matchbook into the bag at my hip just as Carsen takes a strong step forward, his hard eyes darting silently between us all.