Chapter 18
Blinding sun glinted off the dark armor of the two figures at the gate. Their scent was wrong. Their stance was awkward. Everything about their existence screamed abnormal.
Thrasik glared at them, wondering what they truly were.
They didn’t smell like the plague-ridden beasts.
Their movements weren’t fluid, but rather stiff and rigid as though they didn’t truly know how to move or process muscle.
It set every nerve in his body on edge. The past times he’d visited the city there had never been guards at the gates, which is in part why he was so put off by the guards at Mistveil.
Let alone the older guard captain he’d saved.
So many new and different beings out of nowhere didn’t make sense.
Scenting the air, he noticed a pungent fetor lurked around the outskirts as if it was being buried and hidden on purpose. Something akin to how flowers and heavily scented oils had been used to cover Mish’Ta’s decaying body all those years ago.
Thrasik’s scales rattled. His spines poofed. Instinct screamed at him to turn around and never come back.
He swiveled to look at Griselda. Her face was stern.
Those emerald eyes wide and focused ahead with a determination he’d only seen her possess when confronting Oglen.
Her lips were tight in a straight line. He couldn’t even consider how badly he wanted to wrap up around her again and rut her into the next day.
In fact, he’d hardly had time to gather his own emotions over everything that had transpired the past few days.
Instead, he wanted to scoop Griselda up and forget about this plan.
Scratching at his throat again, he stared back toward the guards. Their flame-like eyes peered at them both through their visors. It made his skin crawl. It was beyond uncanny.
Unnatural.
Devoid of all emotion and existence.
Not to mention they oddly reeked of burning herbs.
Their distance was quickly covered, and no sooner did they approach the guards than lances were crossed over the gate to bar their entrance.
“Purpose,” croaked one of the guards in a grinding exhale.
“Business,” Griselda responded. “We are to meet with his highness, the High Priest.”
“Purpose,” stated the other guard, stamping the butt of a lance into the ground.
Smoke puffed from the joints of their armor after a deep breath.
“We’re needing consultation regarding an… issue.” Griselda’s voice strained through gritted teeth.
Thrasik could tell she was worried they wouldn’t allow them access. His vision darted everywhere, trying to gain advantage of the situation to see if there was a way he could vault them over the wall.
A strange hissing noise came from both the guards as they relaxed their stance.
“Granted.” Their voices combined into a harsh rasp as they relaxed the lances and left an open space.
Griselda nodded, grabbing Thrasik’s wrist and tugging him toward the gateway with her. He slid next to her. Unease itched through all of his scales as both guards turned to face him upon full approach.
“Beware the scaled one,” whispered the one on the left.
“Its flesh is of the cursed one,” spat the one on the right.
“A plague cast upon this land to be righted by his hand!” They both shouted in tandem, pointing the tips of their lances directly toward Thrasik’s jugular.
He squinted and reared back, snout pointing skyward. His arm ripped away from Griselda as his claws spread wide. It didn’t matter if these guards were abnormal. He’d shred the metal from their flesh all the same. If they even had flesh.
“You know not what you speak,” spat Thrasik in response.
Griselda had been locked on the other side of the guards, their shoulders hunched and blocking his access. Her doe-wide eyes darted between their hulking figures as the stepped closer together. Thrasik’s spine stiffened. A thought ran across his mind at a speed he’d never experienced.
If I attack, they would harm her faster than I could stop them.
Rearing away, he raised himself taller than their height and spread his arms wide.
“Do it. Become champions for your Supreme and slay the wicked beast knocking upon your gates.” His lips sneered, recoiling upon themselves to reveal all of his fangs.
The two guards turned their onyx helmets skyward and froze. Within an instant they were suddenly standing at attention, adjusting their lances, and shuffling back to their original posts beside the gate.
“Pass. Beware, devil.” They once again spoke in tandem.
Thrasik’s scales shivered. He didn’t trust they wouldn’t try to stab him in the back as he crossed the threshold into the city, but wearily abided. Griselda reached her hand out toward him, grabbing at the air until he placed his giant hand around hers.
Looking back over his shoulder, he made a point to knock the bottom of the lance out of the grip of the one of the guards with his tail before they walked away. A grunt of frustration echoed behind as the lance made a metallic clinking sound on the stone ground.
A snicker sat in his throat.
Turning his attention back to the path before them, a sickening awe hit the pit of Thrasik’s stomach. His scales felt as though they were about to turn inward and stab deeper until they disappeared from existence.
The stone path steadily turned into a marbled flooring that resounded under Griselda’s steps. It was cool to the touch of his belly, but almost unnervingly so.
Abandoned shops and homes spread along the sides of the path.
Sun bleached fabric drifted on the whisper of wind that danced through the city.
Windows were boarded up. Doors ripped off their hinges and thrown aside.
Everything about this path reflected a panic amongst the people that had lived here.
A dark liquid seeped from the cracks of the pathway, pooling over the edge of the thick marble until it dripped down and mixed in with the ruddy dirt the rest of the city sat on.
Looking up toward the cathedral a distance ahead of them, Thrasik’s face drained and fear jolted up his spine.
The cathedral of Silyre had always been a sight to behold.
It was one of the few unnatural wonders of the continent that no one truly knew the origination of.
A flourishing courtyard off set the tone of the city in an unnerving fashion.
The marble path met beautifully with the walls built of the same material.
Colorful stained glass windows tapered up its length, dappling each window and outlook with greens, blues, oranges, and yellows.
The sunlight glistened off each color like a polished gem.
Vision crawling higher, the gables reached higher to the clouds than any beast had ever dared.
Their points rounded to an arch that was lost to its height.
However, sitting atop the very point of the center gable was a warping shadow. One that oozed down the holy walls until its entire form took over the front face of the cathedral. Wispy wings stretched out with uncomfortable cricks and jerks until they encompassed the courtyard before them.
What in the ever loving hells is that?
Thrasik had never felt such fear. Such mind numbing panic.
His vision flickered in ways that made him want to hurl.
Just as he was about to turn toward Griselda, a high pitched shriek sang through the air.
Tilting his head, he made direct eye contact with something that embodied a creature worse than the darkest recesses of his mind could muster.
“Hey, Thrasik?” A soft voice sounded beside him.
On the verge of hyperventilating, he swung toward the voice before he realized it was Griselda. She still held his hand. Her other hand clutched around the scale nestled on her chest.
“You okay?” She cocked her head, her snowy hair falling to frame her face.
Huffing through his nostrils, he raised his free hand to point up at the cathedral. Griselda’s eyes followed his gesture before darting back to him.
“The stained glass? I mean, it is pretty.” Her lips pursed.
“What? No, I—” Thrasik whipped his head back toward the cathedral.
Everything had changed. No shadow. No abandoned city. No strange oozing liquids. The city was bustling, in fact. It was thriving and filled with an underlying chatter. The cathedral itself had a holy air radiating from its existence that wasn’t there a moment ago.
“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself.
“I think you’re just a bit tired. Let’s just go to the cathedral, speak with the High Priest, and find somewhere to stay before night falls.” Griselda soothed her palm along his arm, steadily coaxing him to relax his scales and not appear so menacing in the middle of a core city.
Thrasik nodded.
None of this made sense. And to make matters worse, that sickening scent still wafted on the air.
If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed someone tried casting a curse or glamour on him. His squinted gaze scanned the crowds. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them, despite them being the only ones on the marbled pathway.
“Come on, the sooner we’re in the sooner we’re out.” Griselda’s voice snapped him back again.
He just had to stay focused on her. Her delicious features.
Her real existence.
Thrasik leaned over and licked his tongue along the shell of her pointed ear, pulling a squirm and awkward giggle out of her.
In and out. Just a quick pop in. Nothing crazy.
The spines along his nape refused to relax. It felt as if his entire body would explode without a moments notice.
Craving nothing more than to scoop up his stumbling woman and dash back to a hidden cave, he couldn’t help but release steady hisses under his breath. If something wanted to make him turn tail and run then it would need to put up a strong fight first.
Griselda bounded a bit ahead. Her ruby dress danced around her thighs, highlighting the contrast of her pale freckled face and icy hair.
Possession burned heavy in his chest at her flirty smirk. He would protect her until his dying breath, even if it meant he never achieved his selfish goal to reclaim his kingdom. His scales itched to wrap around her naked body again.
To feel the soft squish of her thighs and breasts.
To sigh into her comforting embrace after all the torture he’d endured.
To rejoice in being allowed to worship her body in the way he truly desired.
After their moments in the caves, Thrasik had fully decided he wanted nothing more than to make this headstrong woman entirely his. He wouldn’t be able to live without her after learning what his scale had experienced all these years.
Her scent.
Her voice.
Her.
Jolting out of his mind, reality crashed down again as the doors of the cathedral materialized before them.
They were beyond ancient. Heavy. The wood they were made of had been worn smooth by decades of hands and claws.
Thrasik could make out the indents where a dragon had scratched the door almost in half.
The gashes had long since been filled in with some sand dust creation.
Griselda stood before him, barely reaching his chest. Her breaths were rapid despite the slow walk. The air tasted of a cold sweat the lurked the back of her neck.
Leaning down, Thrasik nosed the side of his maw against her face. She turned into him and buried her face. Her hands jumped up to cover the sides of her eyes.
“It’s just a door. He’s just a man. They can’t hurt us. We’re just here for answers. That’s it,” she hurriedly whispered.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed off him and turned toward the door in one smooth motion.
Thrasik half-reached a clawed hand toward her but pulled back the moment her hands gripped both handles of the large heavy door. Her body appeared as though it were floating. Her braids drifted high into the air at her sudden turn. Her dress curled and creased around her thighs.
Just beyond her, a blinding light spilled from the broadening crack between the doors. A light that was so rich and full that it painted Griselda’s entire existence into Thrasik’s retinas as he frantically blinked. He reached both hands toward her, hoping to pull her back to his chest.
The shape of her body danced before him like an angel incarnate.
An angel that he was willingly following directly into the chasm of a beast that was wholeheartedly determined to destroy him.
A beast that he hadn’t confronted in decades.
A beast that might rip her from me.