After an hour of standing around in silence, the unrelenting boredom and biting cold became unbearable. Ikevine finally beckoned me over to the clearing, completely silent. He sat me down on a fallen log, the rough bark pressing into my skin. Gathering firewood, Ikevine began arranging, placing two pieces of wood at similar lengths on the bottom, creating a stable base, then meticulously stacked more pieces in layers on top. The process was dull, and the cold seeped into my bones as I watched, feeling utterly useless and frozen in place.
"My friends." I broke the silence, "I'm assuming you brought me here..."
"Clearly." The man spoke simply, and answered before I even asked, "I have men in there, getting them out." Ikevine stared at the wood, then laughed, a harsh sound that grated on my nerves. "Maybe you could light this on fire—like you did all those people." Wordlessly, I shook my head, refusing to acknowledge his cruel joke. He shrugged it off as if it were funny, then put a hand in front of him. Uttering a few words, two sparks ignited, lighting the wood on fire.
The flames flickered to life, bathing the ground in a dancing orange hue. Warmth emanated outwards and hugged my skin. Staring at the fire, I wanted to move away after what happened at Heladon City, yet it felt so inviting.
"How did you do that?" I asked, my interest piqued.
"You did it too, back in the city with that fire." Ikevine's eyes reflected the dancing flames. "It's not easy, and it's not always pleasant, but it's something you can control. Might as well use it to your advantage." He abruptly stopped, a scowl forming on his face. "Dammit—why am I even talking to you?"
I stretched out my arms, letting the heat seep into my chilled skin, and scooted closer to the fire. The quiet of the woods surrounded us, broken only by the crackling flames. Despite the chaos, this moment felt strangely calming.
"Doesn't matter to me," I said honestly, my voice low.
"You don't get to say that..." Ikevine replied almost immediately, his tone dropping to a harsh whisper. "My family lived in this village. You brought those people here, murdering everyone and—" He took a quick breath, visibly struggling to compose himself. "He's a package... it doesn't matter."
Package? That would explain whoever he yelled to, "You know I barely remember that day? Haven't thought about it in years. That man... his name it..." I coughed lightly, my throat dry and scratchy. "I can't remember—"
"Vesperus," Ikevine interrupted, listening to my surprise.
"Right... that was his name... I do remember that..." I turned my hands backward toward the fire, seeking its warmth. "It's not my fault those people came. I don't know why they did. I didn't even know about this fucking curse until the king..." I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. The memories felt like fragments of a broken mirror, sharp and disjointed. "They murdered my family too that day. I don't even remember them... but those people, that man. He did this to them... to me."
Vesperus. The man from my earliest memory, the dark sorcerer I now realize Chlodovech and Vondor spoke about. It was him. Everything that happened, all this pain I had to endure, that this village died for. My whole life up until now. All because of him. I've been looking for someone to blame, to truly blame. Now I finally found one.
"If he hadn't cursed me..." I muttered, the words bitter on my tongue, glancing at Ikevine. Something clicked, but before I could speak, someone else did.
"Sorry to be late, dear friend," a gravelly voice spoke up from behind. From the corner of my vision, a short figure approached the fire, and I turned to see who it was.
"Dolion," Ikevine greeted him curtly, his impatience clear. "There's the boy—so hand it over. I can't stand being here much longer." His eyes flickered to the ruined village.
Dolion, a stout man with a rough exterior, nodded and reached into his cloak. "I've got it here," he said, producing a small, intricately carved wooden box. He handed it to Ikevine, who took it with a relieved sigh.
Dolion had clearly seen some battles. His wrinkled skin bore the marks of countless fights, with various scars scattered across his body. Some were light and almost unnoticeable, faintly etched lines, while others were long and vivid, cutting across his flesh violently. I had never seen someone who looked so old, a testament to a life of survival through disease and war.
Ikevine nodded slowly, then unlatched the front of the box, lifting the lid just a crack. After peeking inside, his eyes shut briefly as if contemplating something. "Elias has his friends... they should be here within the next couple of hours."
"A couple of hours?" I interjected, "I need them here now."
"Shh... shh..." Dolion waved his hand, quieting me down. "These things take time." He turned back to Ikevine, his tone shifting. "Ike, my friend. You go make sure they arrive safely. After that... I won't need you for a while."
Ikevine turned his back to us, then unsheathed a sword with a blade so magnificently large it must have weighed a ton, gleaming in the firelight. The metal rippled almost as if it were a liquid. With swift motion, he twisted the weapon, and a blinding light enveloped him. In an instant, the man vanished, leaving only my confusion behind.
"Who was that?" I asked, looking at Dolion. "And... you?"
Dolion jumped a little, as if surprised I was still there. "Oh... Alaric... dear boy." He knelt down to meet my height on the log, placing his cold, coarse hands on my face. "You still have all your teeth!" The old man joked, a smile stretching across his weathered features.
"You didn't answer my question," I replied, unamused, gently moving his hands away.
Tilting his head, the old man kept his smile, though its look dwindled. "A bounty hunter... he's a good one at that." Dolion pointed towards the village. "Grew up here like you did. All those years ago, so forgive him if he's a little... uncharitable."
I shook my head and said simply, "Right." Standing up from the log, I stared at the ground. "And you?" I looked up at Dolion, my frustration boiling over. "How do you know so goddamn much about me?"
"You can't worry about that right now, my dear," Dolion said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "We need to work on—"
"Fuck off," I snapped, moving away and wrapping my arms around myself, squeezing tightly. "You can't expect me to trust you without knowing why."
"He's being difficult..." Dolion murmured to himself, before replying more loudly, "You don't have to, Alaric. But when they send people to look for you, there's no defending yourself. When you try to survive out here with no experience in finding shelter and food, it won't be long before you realize the harshness of the world. And when you try to ward off bandits and vicious creatures—oh, let me tell you, there are plenty—you won't make it a week."
I wanted to counter, but Dolion was right. The Fausts had treated me horribly, but they had still provided a home, food, and water. I had little experience with providing for myself, especially out here with no civilization to rely on.
"Yeah... fine," I said slowly, calming down, and avoiding eye-contact, "But after everything I've gone through—I'm playing it safe."
His expression lightened. "Good, good, my dear." Dolion maneuvered to the other side of the fire. The wind began to pick up, blowing his long gray hair backward. After a few silent moments, he continued, "If we knew more about the curse... I could remove it."
My head shot up, fearfully hopeful. "You could?"
Dolion looked at me. "Possibly. Curses are complex, intertwined with the very energy of a person. Removing one isn't as simple as casting a spell. It requires knowledge, understanding, and... time."
"I hate that I can't remember but..." I thought back, trying to piece everything together, "Chlodovech and his servant, Vondor, they said something about... my soul intertwining with the caster's."
Dolion's expression shifted, a look of realization crossing his face. "A blood curse," he nodded, almost nonchalantly. "Rare but not unheard of. The only kind of curse you can't remove unless you kill the sorcerer who cast it."
If that's what it took, then fine. If it were anyone else, I would have been sickened, but Vesperus didn't deserve to live. Optimistic, I stepped closer to Dolion, forgetting our earlier conversation. "We should track him down," I began hastily. "Vesperus—find where he is..."
"Alaric," Dolion interrupted, but I continued stubbornly.
"How do we do it? Whatever it takes, I want this curse gone." I looked into his small, hazel eyes, searching for answers. "Dolion?"
He shook his head slowly, "Vesperus... they already tracked him down." The old man, and his supposed words of wisdom, sat on the log, "My dear boy, your sorcerer is already dead."
Stopping in my tracks, I stared ahead blankly. "Dead?" My voice came out in a weary croak. "What the hell does that mean?" I shouted, anger lacing my tone, my voice cracking from exhaustion. Fists now clenched tightly, they turned white.
"It means we can't remove your curse—" Dolion began, but then abruptly halted. Rain began to fall, each drop like a tiny needle piercing my skin. "Not unless..." He turned to his right, "That's right, you're right..." Dolion murmured.
"Who are you talking to?" I demanded, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. I took a step closer, the wet ground squelching beneath my feet. The rain matted my hair to my forehead, water dripping down my face.
His eyes flickered to the fire as it hissed from the downpour, "There's another way... possibly, but it's a few days' walk." Dolion held his hand upwards, allowing the rain to beat down on him. "A storm..." he muttered to himself, then unsheathed a small dagger, one I hadn't seen before. With a swift, surprising slash, the old man drew blood from his own forearm. He used his finger to trace a symbol in the air, the crimson line creating an intricate design of spidery veins. The symbol hung suspended in the rain, glowing faintly.
A small, invisible bubble formed around us, evident by how the rain poured onto an invisible roof and kept us dry. "Your friends will be here later today. For now, get some rest." Dolion nodded at the grass, then got to work on putting out the fire. I watched, mesmerized and slightly horrified, as he extinguished the flames. "We'll leave during the night. I have a plan."
Almost not wanting to, I didn't reply. However, the weariness of my muscles, the aching of my bones told me otherwise. Bending down, almost falling over, I sank into the wet ground. It wasn't a bed, that's for sure. The mud stuck to my hair, caking it in grime, but I didn't care. Even the sunlight, bright and warming my skin, calmed me.
Yet as I tried to drift off, let myself rest, I just couldn't. The thought of the curse lingered, gnawing at my mind. Could Dolion truly remove it? If not, and if what he said was the truth, I could be stuck with it for the rest of my life. The more I pondered, the worse it became. My plan to move away from Heladon and towards the Theosilic Regions seemed possible, but not if I brought Odessa. What if I hurt her?
Lying there, my mind raced through endless possibilities, each one more troubling than the last. The damp ground beneath me became uncomfortable, and the rhythmic sound of rain no longer soothed but agitated. I rolled onto my side, then my back, trying to find a good position.
As the minutes dragged on, my thoughts spiraled further. Eventually, my body, exhausted from the day's events, began to betray my restless mind. My muscles relaxed, and the tension in my shoulders eased. My eyes grew heavy, and the relentless grip of consciousness began to slip. In the midst of everything, sleep finally took hold.
30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwzW3oMmyOJ
