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Lord Wraith__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Blackwood - Ünterland
Human #5.089: Game of Survival
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The moment that Aurora and Cassius stepped into the Blackwood, the very air around them seemed to shift.
Towering oaks swallowed what little crimson moonlight touched the earth, their twisted limbs knitting together to form a dense canopy above. Fog slithered between the trunks, curling around the forest floor as if it had a mind of its own. The further that the pair trekked, healthy trees turned singed, their branches kissed by flame, which evolved into fully obliterated trunks covered in ash and embers. The vampire could only shake his head in disbelief as they walked cautiously through the wood. Parts of the underbrush continued to burn and Aurora stomped out what she could, all while the bone-chilling screeches persisted, the cries of something monstrous and enraged only growing louder the deeper they went.
“This is wrong, very wrong,” Cassius breathed, “I’ve never seen destruction like this before.” His voice was quiet, but laced with unease and the redhead shot him a wary glance, her own pulse quickening. If even he was unsettled, then whatever had done this was beyond the ordinary. She began to ponder what could have caused such ruin, what kind of force could leave their surroundings in such a state, and as if answering her unspoken inquiry, a massive shadow passed overhead and blocked out the last remaining slivers of moonlight.
Aurora barely had time to register the shape before a powerful gust of wind hit her like a wall, nearly knocking her off her feet. Her companion didn’t hesitate, yanking her into the shadow of a nearby cluster of trees, pulling them both off the obvious path just as a stream of fire erupted from the beast’s maw, illuminating the sky above in a blinding burst of orange and gold.
“Is that a-” Aurora started, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she instinctively ducked, her voice barely audible over the roar of the creature above.
“Yes,” Cassius answered grimly, his grip on her arm tightening. He didn’t have to say it, he didn’t need to.
A dragon.
Its enormous wings sent down currents of searing air, the tattered membranes stretched wide, their ragged edges proof of a recent and vicious fight. The beast let out another bone-rattling screech, before flying higher into the sky and fleeing into the darkness, disappearing from view entirely. When it was quiet again, Aurora exhaled slowly, her muscles still tense and her thoughts a chaotic mess of disbelief and fear.
“Is that… normal around here?” She asked, silently hoping that this was a common occurrence in these parts. But she already knew the answer even before Cassius replied.
“No,” He stated, his gaze still fixed above them, eyes narrowed and watchful. “Certainly not.” His obsidian eyes met hers, “We need to keep moving before it returns.”
The redhead didn’t argue, vigorously nodding in agreement as they returned to the path, continuing onward and picking up the pace. Neither of them spoke again, the only sounds that filled the oppressive silence being the soft crunch of dead leaves beneath their boots and the distant crackle of burning trees, that is, until the beginnings of a storm began to snuff out the flames. Rain trickled in from the canopy above, dissipating the fog that hugged their ankles.
Not long after evading the beast, the trees began to thin and the path widened, the forest gradually giving way though devastation still lingered in the air, thick with smoke and the distant crackle of fire. Emerging from the treeline and still attempting to calm her racing heart, Aurora was met with complete and utter chaos unfolding before her eyes. In the clearing was a village in disarray, its inhabitants scrambling in the aftermath of what she could only assume was a direct result of the dragon. Many were wounded, their injuries visible and actively bleeding while others rushed to provide aid, doing what they could in their current circumstances, their voices urgent and strained.
There was so much to look at, but the redhead’s eye was inherently drawn to a line of demarcation embedded into the earth. On one side, the ground was scorched, and fire that hadn’t been extinguished burned in patches, casting eerie orange glows against the darkened sky. Deep gouges and craters marked where the beast’s claws had torn through the soil and pools of dark acidic blood festered. But on the other side… nothing. Almost as if there had been an invisible wall of protection thrown up around the village. Its huts made of stone remained completely intact, their exteriors covered in various white markings. Were these the witches that Cassius and Gideon had spoken of?
And then Aurora saw her.
There, standing amongst the wreckage, was her teammate. Amma’s usually bright blue eyes were dull with shock, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if attempting to shrink away, to disappear into the backdrop of ruin. Aurora took an instinctive step forward, the need to reach her outweighing every other thought in her mind.
“Not so fast, fair one,” Cassius must have spotted her as well, and fisted the fabric of the redhead’s cloak and pulled, effectively holding her back before she could make a break towards her friend. “Have you already forgotten what I said about them not liking trespassers?”
She had been so focused on Amma that she hadn’t even noticed the glares and stares, the countless eyes pinned on her every move, the coven having noticed the pair’s presence almost immediately upon intruding on their village. Her sapphire gaze flitted from person to person as they quickly became surrounded, hostility thickening the air around them. She swallowed uncomfortably.
“If you’re wise, you’ll let me do the talking,” He murmured to her under his breath, his grip on her cloak loosening slightly as he stepped forward, putting himself between her and the encroaching witches.
A vicious, rippling snarl immediately cleaves through the palpable sorrow of mourning, the storm has lessened in intensity, but rain continues to fall in a steady thrum as thunder distantly sounds, followed by coils of red-streaked lightning through clouds of black. Grief translated differently for each, but the wolves salivated on the tides of ruin and pain in the loss of their alpha, their master, their friend, Dain had led them for years, and his death was a quivering disruption to their conjoined souls, now threaded with death as the herald for their intertwined agony. Such a tragedy that quivered with each heaving growl as the wolves stalked closer, some wreathed in injury, and others not, pelts muddled with crimson splotches and streaks and fangs glistening in the severe draw of their trembling maws. Even some of the familiars, trilling beasts, and clamoring vipers, some Felidae creatures suddenly stalking from the shadows as if forged of it, crept closer at the trespassing vampyre and his… companion.
The witches intersect betwixt them, jewels twinkling with hidden light and silver accentuated through their raised palms, some beheld gold in their hands and then stopped, eyes shimmering with distrust and clamoring power. The battle lingered, heightening senses and emotions, the runes marked into their houses still aglow with spells awaiting to be uttered.
“You know you’re not welcome here,” one of the witches announces with finality. “Or did you follow that beast, and thought to try and finish us off?”
“You’ll find that we don’t easily surrender. Not anymore.”
Aurora tensed, every muscle in her body screaming at her to move, to act - but Cassius stood still as stone beside her, unreadable as ever. The witches’ words dripped with disgust and suspicion and the collective glare of those that surrounded them bored into the redhead’s soul. But it was the wolves, their snarls a haunting chorus, that sent a chill down her spine, setting the fine hairs on her arms on edge.
If Cassius said the wrong thing- if he so much as breathed the wrong way- this would turn into something they wouldn’t walk away from. The vampire, to his credit, seemed entirely unfazed. He lifted his hands in a slow, deliberate motion, daring to let his lips curl into a smirk, laced with something dangerous.
“Now, now. That was years ago. Surely we’re past that by now?” He mused, voice smooth as velvet. He took a casual step forward, his posture open, disarming- yet the air around him thickened, like a storm brewing just out of sight.
“I have no quarrel with you. I didn’t come here with fangs bared, and I certainly don’t take pleasure in this.” The statement was calm but edged with steel, and for a fleeting moment, his expression hardened, a crack in his otherwise composed demeanor. “We’re looking for someone. We have reason to believe she’s here amongst your coven.”
She. A mute exchange unraveled through each, emeralds and sapphires humming faintly, their jeweled conduits gradually dimming with the quiet revelation that slid through every flutter of lash and subtle nod of their heads. The tell-tale rumbling of the wolves also whispered through curious yips and trills, some of the Familiars shaking loose the tension that corded through enchanted, magically inclined muscle before parting at the quiet steps of their maven. Kylmie approached Cassius with eyes still curiously aglow with the shimmering, white light of the barrier she had invoked, but weariness listed through her features, contoured briefly with exhaustion and pain that ignited a tremor through her bones. Still, she stood before their once-upon-a-time foe, and with those piercing eyes, she regarded Aurora with a slight cant of her head. Hidden though by her cloak’s hood, Kylmie recognized that familiar thrum of a shredded essence on the slight girl, however, a coil of light, of purity and wholeness lingered there as a kernel of something unnamed but felt as warming tendrils of affection and hope. So frail, she mused, and with a shift to her right, she cut off Amma’s profile that gradually wavered in the distance, hissing tongues of flame accentuating her twisted features as another clash of thunder rolled through the remains of the Blackwood.
“Cassius,” Kylmie announced. “I won’t waste time with empty exchanges, the dragon will return and we hardly have the time to entertain you.” She carefully pushed wetted pieces of black from her face, a soft hiss punctuating her words whilst one of the vipers coiled up around her waist, resting a wide, horned head on her shoulder, eyes of vermillion fixated on Aurora with a thick, ebony tongue flickering in curious appraisal. “If the Jarl sent you, I’m afraid it’s on a failed quest. Even if someone had come to us, we’d never give them to you, or him.”
The vampire exhaled slowly through his nose, the corners of his mouth twitching in restrained irritation, but he did not let his feelings show beyond that.
“Kylmie,” Cassius stated by way of an acknowledgment, and Aurora quickly gathered that the woman must have been high amongst their ranks. “I understand your mistrust,” He sympathized, his intonation steady, measured. “But I don’t answer to anyone, especially the Jarl. I have no interest in any affairs other than my own.” He broke Kylmie’s gaze to glance at the storm-ravaged sky. “Whatever grievances you still hold against me, I doubt the dragon will care for your grudges when it strikes again. So just-”
“She’s my friend.”
Aurora stepped forward despite her companion’s earlier words of warning, straightening and holding her ground against those that surrounded them. She could instantly feel his patience wane as a direct result of her going against his wishes. She pulled back her hood just enough to reveal more of her soft features and copper hair, the strands curling at the ends as the rain continued to fall.
“She’s here, I saw her.” She pressed, her sapphire eyes flicking past Kylmie’s shoulder and the snake that was now perched there which made her heartbeat quicken. “Please, I just want to bring her back.” She expressed, softer now, but no less resolute.
Kylmie’s eyes softened, albeit briefly and hesitantly, still her countenance waned at the reveal of Aurora all the same with her copper hair and bright eyes shaded by the crimson light of the moon spearing through the clouded sky. The viper lifted from her shoulder and exchanged a glance with her, a method of communication with a sentient creature that flitted over the threshold of bestial aggression. Intelligence simmered there in those resplendent eyes, shimmering a myriad of colors reminiscent of precious gems before it coiled across her nape and rested over her opposite shoulder, dismissing Aurora and Cassius entirely.
Quietly, she leaned close, bent slightly at the waist to scrutinize the breadth of Aurora’s sorrows, quaint and minute, but impacted by loss all the more with her pleading words.
“What is your name?”
Silence stretched between them, Aurora’s gaze stuck on the reptile whose beady eyes seemingly gathered unspoken judgement. Cassius nudged her, a little too forcefully, and the girl looked to her companion and his darkened gaze. He shook his head subtly, imparting another warning upon the redhead to not reveal herself, but the girl did not heed it. They had come this far, she was right there, and this opportunity would not pass her by.
“Aurora,” Her voice was level despite the weight of so many eyes upon her. “My name is Aurora.”
There was a brief flicker, subtle, barely-there, just a flashing glimmer of recognition as soon as she spoke her name aloud and Kylmie took a delicate step back, her palms suddenly wed together, clutching her fingers into an interlocked web of trepidation. She had heard her name before, uttered painfully by the girl she undoubtedly was seeking. But to what end, she contemplated and silently stepped aside to reveal Amma who shook with a powerful tremor, as if an unspooled connection of her shattered being that became suddenly aware that she was not so alone. Her arms dropped from where they had woven around her middle and she made careful steps forward, eyes peeled wide as Kylmie gestured for the remainders of her coven to make space for this reunion. Shock rolled through her, swallowed immediately by an unknown emotion that simmered beside a rage; a sweltering wrath of something eclipsed by the finite wells of pain that only this realm could bring. She met Aurora’s eyes and within, she snapped.
“Aurora?” She hissed around that name, and let it curl over her tongue awash in unbridled disbelief and agony. The last she had seen her… No, she hadn’t been there. Right? The dance. They vanished. They left.
Left them to nothing- behind, while the beast tore them apart. Or, had she done that? Where was the demarcation of the true beast conceptualized from the shadows that threatened to pull her beyond the depths of the void? How did she even know if this was real? Thus far this world had revealed nothing but misery and lies, and in the aftermath of the dragon, who was to say this was not another ploy to tear asunder the depths of heart? Her hollow eyes narrowed, devoid of their crystalline shine, and remained as deadened slivers of sudden mistrust.
“Or is this another trap? Maybe I’m dreaming, again. Maybe the dragon did kill us; stuck in an endless loop of this… place.”
Aurora’s breath caught in her throat, air stolen from her lungs as Amma’s words met her ears, raw and frayed at the edges. There was no warmth to the raven haired girl’s voice - there never had been as long as she’d known her - but this felt different, colder, if that was even possible. She looked wrecked, her usually striking features hollowed by grief, by skepticism, by something dangerously close to despair. Her eyes, the mirror to her own, felt unfamiliar, lacking their normal sharpness. The redhead had never seen her in such a state so…
Broken.
Cautiously, she moved towards her, but again, Cassius attempted to intervene. He placed a strong hand on Aurora’s shoulder, leaning in close to her cheek and whispering in her ear.
"It’s possible she’s not the same girl you once knew."
"Amma," She shrugged off the vampire’s grip and took another step towards her. Her tone was gentle, as if speaking too loudly might cause her friend to crumble entirely. “This isn’t a trap or a dream. I’m real, I’m here.” In one fluid motion she removed the hood of her cape and let it fall to her back, fully putting herself on display to help discern reality from dream. Taking a deep breath, she chose to use the name the girl had revealed that fateful night, the one she’d held close to her chest since then.
“Ammaranthe.”
The name hung between them, thick with meaning, with memory. It was a tether, fragile and tenuous, but a tether all the same.
“Don’t-” she hissed, fingers splayed, cracking, palms once bidden and assaulted by coils of red now devoid of their manifest, the once tangible threads of the world succumbed to her rage forsaken as her hands shook with such a tremor that her arms trembled. A name that was not her name, that withheld all the power in the world, her world, now shaded in red. Her muscles bunched and grew rigid, every line in Amma’s body shored up and taut, shoulders drawn out and in as she approached Aurora on that fateful calling. It whispered betwixt them over, and over, and over again, echoing off the voided space of her ribs where the dredges of darkness lingered eternally, ragged and decrepit, no longer omnipotent.
“You might be here now... But you weren’t there.” Why did it enrage her so? It felt wrong, soiled, undeserving even, but her designation lanced deep, planted itself there, and writhed in remembrance of the one who had found her name hidden in the depths of her despair. Written in scarlet whorls of destruction to shatter against her ailed soul, the memories that still sluiced through her mind hazed out in monochromatic shadows possessed of blue eyes and the spindle of red she had given her once, another life she had saved.
“I did not give that name to you.”
Aurora tensed, but did not yield nor falter. No, she lifted her chin intentionally as Amma lashed out, each word ammunition, each syllable honed to wound, yet they did not deter her.
“But you did give me your name - at least you tried to. During the trial before you were dragged into the void.”
“Maybe it wasn’t intentional. You probably didn’t even want to. But perhaps you needed to, and I’ve held onto that since.” She revealed, “It was only after the dance that I finally learned what you were hoping to say.” Aurora could see Cassius out of the corner of her eye, shaking his head in disagreement, but he didn’t understand. There was a raw, visceral pull in her chest, an undeniable certainty that she had to reach Amma - had to break through the fury and grief curling off of her in waves.
“I know I wasn’t there, that we weren’t there. If we had been, things would have been very different, and I’m so, so sorry for that,” The redhead replied, taking another step towards the girl, attempting to close the distance just a bit more. “I’ve carried that guilt with me and will continue to for a long time. Lorcán as well.”
“But neither he or I came here to make excuses or attempt to justify our failure. We came here to find you, Amma, and so did he.”
Did she try? Had she honestly been so desperate in her pleas for mutual understanding, to give the name that was not her name? For kinship, warmth, home? To simply have something in her life as her choice? The Trials were so, so distant from now, and yet so fairly similar, the circumstances were almost daunting in comparison. Deposited into the void, manipulated and assaulted, lain with scars and blood, and powerless to do anything about it. The scar fissured over her heart pulsated, as if newly made and aware of the crimson-shaded doubt that bubbled up in her throat, voice hoarse and dragged over shards of glass as Amma laughed.
“Or maybe you’d be dead, just like –”
Wait.
Her laughter warbled and fell, near hysterics and forlorn and daring, denying any truth or hope that might’ve dawned in her manic eyes that pierced deep into Aurora’s pleading, seeking stare.
“He? Who, Aurora? Who else came to this goddamn place? Who?!”
“Gil, Gil is here.”
Aurora paused, eyes going wide as the raven haired girl’s expression shifted - not to relief, as she had expected, but to something far more unsettling. Confusion knitted her brow, the embers of her fury still smoldering, yet no longer all-consuming. Doubt crept in at the edges, cracking through the hardened walls of her rage.
“Oh god,” The redhead murmured, realization dawning as the pieces fell into place. “Did you think he was-” She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
Amma had believed Gil was gone.
The weight of it pressed against Aurora’s ribs, stealing the air from her lungs, and she swallowed hard, her throat having gone dry.
“Gil is alive, Amma. He’s alive and he never stopped looking for you, he’s the reason we’re here.” She exhaled, her voice thick with emotion, and took another step closer. “Lorcán and I… we hoped we’d find you, but Gil?”
“He would have torn the world apart if it meant getting to you.”
“Gil is dead.” Amma snapped. “I knelt in his blood, I saw him-” She gasped, heaving, and drawing in rib-shattering gulps of air. She can’t breathe. A part of her denies the probability that he survived, a part of her can’t; a part of her doesn’t want to. She can’t rely on the lingering swell of hope that feathered through her heart and held it preciously in delicate hands. Her life was not meant for such promising rescues, none had ever done so before, so why now? To what end did Amma Cahors deserve such longing and grace?
“I saw him torn apart, I saw his clones shredded. You weren’t there. You didn’t see- no, but I felt it.” She lances her nails against her scar, pierces around puckered, reddened flesh, tears through the moth scoured and impaled over her heart, torn and defiled.
“I felt everything.”
It’s too good to be true, for this place, Ünterland as she knew it to be named now, was taking all that she yearned for and twisted, deformed, and manipulated it, just as her body had been for years. But what if he was alive? The entanglement of their sorrows bled through her fear and doubt and Amma held onto the kernel nestled betwixt her ribs. It split, cracked, as a singular, unnamed emotion that had long planted itself there under the moonlight shadows of their first night together. Here, it bloomed with that lingering connection forged at the dance, the merging of selves known as they once were, and could have been and maybe now as they could be if what Aurora said was true.
“If… If this is real. If you’re real. If he is alive.” Her voice cracked and strained. “Then why are you here alone?”
Aurora shook her head gently.
“He’s not dead Amma. I may not have been there then, but I promise you that he walked out of that dance alive.” She finally closed the distance between them, inches separating their pale faces and matching blue eyes. “I’ll spare you all the details but it’s because of him that we’re here - he sought out Alyssa who connected us with Ellara who brought us to Ünterland.” The redhead broke Amma’s gaze only to look to Cassius, who seemed to stiffen at the mention of the latter. “We’ve been on quite the journey but Gil has stopped at nothing to find you.”
Her expression fell at the raven haired girl’s following question, but Aurora didn’t hesitate to answer, not if it meant gaining her favor.
“When we emerged from Limbo, Gil wasn’t with us. Ellara believed he was pulled elsewhere, likely closer to where you were, so we continued on only to be ambushed in the forest. Lorcán and I got separated-” Sadness befell her delicate features before she inclined her head to the vampire standing nearby. “- and then Cassius found me. We had a bit of an interesting start but he eventually agreed to help me.”
Amma nodded slowly, carefully, digesting her words with an expression that bespoke of unraveling anguish and dissociation, pieces of her ragged soul crumbling into the void as she struggled to believe her. To look into those eyes that mirrored everything that she was not, pinpricks of warmth and devotion that eternally simmered there as a guiding light to better days. Aurora had the strength to love, such an intimacy that Amma only knew to be agonizing. She wondered if the look crossing over her features matched the dejected hopelessness Aurora had worn that day when she came to her in solitary…
So much had changed.
“Ellara… I know that name.” She uttered, “Kylmie said she might be able to help me get back. I was,” Amma paused considerably, for where did she begin. “I was stuck in Limbo for a long time. It felt like maybe hours, but apparently, it was weeks. Being hunted by something. And then I was brought here by the wolves when they found me coming over the cliffs…” How did she even begin to detail that Kylmie was her grandmother and the hidden truths of her mother even after such a confession? Amma’s eyes flitted towards Cassius, flickering down and then up in her deliberate study, committing his profile to her memory, and immediately shored up her guard at his peculiar presence, it was unsettling in such a way not unlike Dain’s influence.
“There’s also this… dragon. Dain thought,” Amma’s voice dragged over his name, his death also burned into her mind. His blood was now on her hands too. “That it followed me here. I’m beginning to think he was right.”
Aurora’s eyes widened. Amma had been in Limbo for weeks?
The redhead glanced down at her hand subtly, at the rune that marred her pale skin, stitched by thread and bone. Even with it protecting her during the passage through Limbo, the journey had still been a painful one, having felt as though invisible forces were attempting to pry her apart. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the thought of Amma enduring such agony without that same defense. It also meant that in the time since that fateful night at the dance, she had spent the majority of it alone. In pain. No one should have been subjected to such a fate, especially the raven haired girl in front of her who had already suffered enough. Aurora’s eyes began to water, but she willed herself to maintain her composure.
“If he’s right, and it’s you that the dragon is hunting, then we need to get out of here.” She averted her gaze and took in the destruction around them. “Ellara is the only one who can take us back, but I have no clue where she is.” She caught Cassius’ obsidian stare, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“You failed to mention the Jäger, fair one.” He pursed his lips disapprovingly, “Quite an important detail to leave out.” Aurora glared at the vampire in response to his interjection, her sapphire eyes icy.
“Let me guess, she doesn’t like you either?”
“Not particularly, no.”
Amma idly watched Aurora’s exchange with Cassius, she reminded herself of his name, her arms subtly crossing at her chest, palms and nails perched on either bicep where she holds firm, reigning in her sense flung far and wide. She attempts to piece together the reality that maybe Gil was alive. But the flicker of hope sputtered as a rain drenched flame, the kindling of her earlier sorrows and wrath still pulsating against her ribs, the bones aching with every draw of her breath as she permitted her mind to wonder. It wasn’t a luxury she could much afford, but what could she do but cling to the fragment of possibility that all was not lost? It was a fickle, fleeting thing, barely felt and reminiscent of a child’s dream, a child Amma had long since lost in the darkest recesses of her pain.
“In Limbo, when I-” to admit that she crawled through filth struck at her pride and she mulled over her words. “Managed to get out, there was this light, I followed it out. Maybe…”
A rippling drum of thunder echoed through the clouds, another bout of rain looming in the distance as the storm doubled in its descent, red lightning striking off into the distance, followed by a faded screech of agony and rage.
“The dragon is still out there.” Amma turned at Kylmie’s approach, her serpentine companion gone as the rain resumed and fell, remnants of flame hissing in defiance of the deluge before snuffed out entirely. “And in this storm, you won’t get very far.”
Amma said nothing, her lashes fluttering at the water that clung to them, marking down her cheeks as her stare flickered back towards Aurora, and then Cassius before she regarded the clouds above and the slivers of crimson moonlight that fell.
“It’ll come back.”
“Yes.”
Having overheard some of their exchange, Kylmie began: “If Ellara is here, then she’ll find us before you can even begin to search for her. And if your other companions are out there…”
“I can only hope they’re safe, and that maybe they’ll find their way here, just as you have.” She gestured towards Aurora. “But even then, rest is what is needed. The dragon regains its strength, and so must we.”
The redhead stiffened at the audible rumble of the storm, but nodded in agreement with Kylmie’s recommendation, the moisture in her eyes returning at the mention of their friends. Her heart yearned for Lorcán, her home, but deep down she knew he’d find his way back to her, just as they promised each other they always would. Until then, she and Amma needed to be smart, conserve their energy, and bide their time. It was the only way they would have a chance at making it out of this plane alive.
“We’ll stay then, if you’ll have us.” Aurora replied, studying the older woman. “I’m sorry to impose, especially considering the circumstances.” Kylmie merely shook her head with a soft, maternal smile sliding through her features.
“No apologies needed, a friend of my…” She stalled, noting Amma’s sudden, piercing stare. “Well, a friend. Despite the company you keep.”
She gestured off-handedly back toward her hut, to which Amma had already turned and walked towards, her steps sluggish and hesitant, unsure as to why she had stopped Kylmie from revealing their familial connections, uncertain of the sharp, piercing pain that lanced through her chest as another clash of thunder drowned out her sudden gasps as she disappeared inside. Kylmie watched her go with a brief glimpse of her regret before one of the wolves approached her, soft growls announcing their arrival and with a glance towards Cassius, she too left, slipping away as the storm raged on.
Aurora hesitated, the rain growing heavier with each passing moment, before turning her head to look at Cassius who was scowling, no doubt as a result of Kylmie’s comment.
“Witches hold grudges, it seems.” She commented, starting to move in the direction of the hut, but paused when she realized that the vampire was not following. “Are you coming?” She asked over her shoulder, and in response he shook his head.
“No, I’m not.” Cassius tilted his head slightly, clearly listening to something she couldn’t hear, “I’ll keep watch.”
The redhead sighed, pushing back wet strands of hair from her face.
“Why? You think someone else is out here?” She asked, her tone skeptical but not dismissive. “Or rather, something else?” The vampire didn’t answer right away. His obsidian eyes flickered toward the trees, then to the darkened horizon beyond before settling back on her.
“I don’t trust them, and they don’t trust me. It’s better if I stay out here.” He answered before pointing his chin towards the hut, his gaze softening slightly for a moment. “Go, rest. You need it.”
She studied him a moment longer, debating if she should press further as to why there was such tension, but something in his posture, the way his shoulders were taut and his eyes distant, made her pause. She could sense the unease in the air, but she also knew when to give someone their space. With a resigned sigh, Aurora nodded, though the nagging feeling of not getting the full story lingered in the pit of her stomach.
“Alright. I’ll be inside if you need me.”
With that, she turned and made her way toward the hut, the heavy downpour masking the sound of her footsteps. Cassius remained where he stood, unmoving as the rain slicked his dark hair to his forehead, his jaw clenched tight as thunder rolled in the distance.
Towering oaks swallowed what little crimson moonlight touched the earth, their twisted limbs knitting together to form a dense canopy above. Fog slithered between the trunks, curling around the forest floor as if it had a mind of its own. The further that the pair trekked, healthy trees turned singed, their branches kissed by flame, which evolved into fully obliterated trunks covered in ash and embers. The vampire could only shake his head in disbelief as they walked cautiously through the wood. Parts of the underbrush continued to burn and Aurora stomped out what she could, all while the bone-chilling screeches persisted, the cries of something monstrous and enraged only growing louder the deeper they went.
“This is wrong, very wrong,” Cassius breathed, “I’ve never seen destruction like this before.” His voice was quiet, but laced with unease and the redhead shot him a wary glance, her own pulse quickening. If even he was unsettled, then whatever had done this was beyond the ordinary. She began to ponder what could have caused such ruin, what kind of force could leave their surroundings in such a state, and as if answering her unspoken inquiry, a massive shadow passed overhead and blocked out the last remaining slivers of moonlight.
Aurora barely had time to register the shape before a powerful gust of wind hit her like a wall, nearly knocking her off her feet. Her companion didn’t hesitate, yanking her into the shadow of a nearby cluster of trees, pulling them both off the obvious path just as a stream of fire erupted from the beast’s maw, illuminating the sky above in a blinding burst of orange and gold.
“Is that a-” Aurora started, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she instinctively ducked, her voice barely audible over the roar of the creature above.
“Yes,” Cassius answered grimly, his grip on her arm tightening. He didn’t have to say it, he didn’t need to.
A dragon.
Its enormous wings sent down currents of searing air, the tattered membranes stretched wide, their ragged edges proof of a recent and vicious fight. The beast let out another bone-rattling screech, before flying higher into the sky and fleeing into the darkness, disappearing from view entirely. When it was quiet again, Aurora exhaled slowly, her muscles still tense and her thoughts a chaotic mess of disbelief and fear.
“Is that… normal around here?” She asked, silently hoping that this was a common occurrence in these parts. But she already knew the answer even before Cassius replied.
“No,” He stated, his gaze still fixed above them, eyes narrowed and watchful. “Certainly not.” His obsidian eyes met hers, “We need to keep moving before it returns.”
The redhead didn’t argue, vigorously nodding in agreement as they returned to the path, continuing onward and picking up the pace. Neither of them spoke again, the only sounds that filled the oppressive silence being the soft crunch of dead leaves beneath their boots and the distant crackle of burning trees, that is, until the beginnings of a storm began to snuff out the flames. Rain trickled in from the canopy above, dissipating the fog that hugged their ankles.
Not long after evading the beast, the trees began to thin and the path widened, the forest gradually giving way though devastation still lingered in the air, thick with smoke and the distant crackle of fire. Emerging from the treeline and still attempting to calm her racing heart, Aurora was met with complete and utter chaos unfolding before her eyes. In the clearing was a village in disarray, its inhabitants scrambling in the aftermath of what she could only assume was a direct result of the dragon. Many were wounded, their injuries visible and actively bleeding while others rushed to provide aid, doing what they could in their current circumstances, their voices urgent and strained.
There was so much to look at, but the redhead’s eye was inherently drawn to a line of demarcation embedded into the earth. On one side, the ground was scorched, and fire that hadn’t been extinguished burned in patches, casting eerie orange glows against the darkened sky. Deep gouges and craters marked where the beast’s claws had torn through the soil and pools of dark acidic blood festered. But on the other side… nothing. Almost as if there had been an invisible wall of protection thrown up around the village. Its huts made of stone remained completely intact, their exteriors covered in various white markings. Were these the witches that Cassius and Gideon had spoken of?
And then Aurora saw her.
There, standing amongst the wreckage, was her teammate. Amma’s usually bright blue eyes were dull with shock, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if attempting to shrink away, to disappear into the backdrop of ruin. Aurora took an instinctive step forward, the need to reach her outweighing every other thought in her mind.
“Not so fast, fair one,” Cassius must have spotted her as well, and fisted the fabric of the redhead’s cloak and pulled, effectively holding her back before she could make a break towards her friend. “Have you already forgotten what I said about them not liking trespassers?”
She had been so focused on Amma that she hadn’t even noticed the glares and stares, the countless eyes pinned on her every move, the coven having noticed the pair’s presence almost immediately upon intruding on their village. Her sapphire gaze flitted from person to person as they quickly became surrounded, hostility thickening the air around them. She swallowed uncomfortably.
“If you’re wise, you’ll let me do the talking,” He murmured to her under his breath, his grip on her cloak loosening slightly as he stepped forward, putting himself between her and the encroaching witches.
A vicious, rippling snarl immediately cleaves through the palpable sorrow of mourning, the storm has lessened in intensity, but rain continues to fall in a steady thrum as thunder distantly sounds, followed by coils of red-streaked lightning through clouds of black. Grief translated differently for each, but the wolves salivated on the tides of ruin and pain in the loss of their alpha, their master, their friend, Dain had led them for years, and his death was a quivering disruption to their conjoined souls, now threaded with death as the herald for their intertwined agony. Such a tragedy that quivered with each heaving growl as the wolves stalked closer, some wreathed in injury, and others not, pelts muddled with crimson splotches and streaks and fangs glistening in the severe draw of their trembling maws. Even some of the familiars, trilling beasts, and clamoring vipers, some Felidae creatures suddenly stalking from the shadows as if forged of it, crept closer at the trespassing vampyre and his… companion.
The witches intersect betwixt them, jewels twinkling with hidden light and silver accentuated through their raised palms, some beheld gold in their hands and then stopped, eyes shimmering with distrust and clamoring power. The battle lingered, heightening senses and emotions, the runes marked into their houses still aglow with spells awaiting to be uttered.
“You know you’re not welcome here,” one of the witches announces with finality. “Or did you follow that beast, and thought to try and finish us off?”
“You’ll find that we don’t easily surrender. Not anymore.”
Aurora tensed, every muscle in her body screaming at her to move, to act - but Cassius stood still as stone beside her, unreadable as ever. The witches’ words dripped with disgust and suspicion and the collective glare of those that surrounded them bored into the redhead’s soul. But it was the wolves, their snarls a haunting chorus, that sent a chill down her spine, setting the fine hairs on her arms on edge.
If Cassius said the wrong thing- if he so much as breathed the wrong way- this would turn into something they wouldn’t walk away from. The vampire, to his credit, seemed entirely unfazed. He lifted his hands in a slow, deliberate motion, daring to let his lips curl into a smirk, laced with something dangerous.
“Now, now. That was years ago. Surely we’re past that by now?” He mused, voice smooth as velvet. He took a casual step forward, his posture open, disarming- yet the air around him thickened, like a storm brewing just out of sight.
“I have no quarrel with you. I didn’t come here with fangs bared, and I certainly don’t take pleasure in this.” The statement was calm but edged with steel, and for a fleeting moment, his expression hardened, a crack in his otherwise composed demeanor. “We’re looking for someone. We have reason to believe she’s here amongst your coven.”
She. A mute exchange unraveled through each, emeralds and sapphires humming faintly, their jeweled conduits gradually dimming with the quiet revelation that slid through every flutter of lash and subtle nod of their heads. The tell-tale rumbling of the wolves also whispered through curious yips and trills, some of the Familiars shaking loose the tension that corded through enchanted, magically inclined muscle before parting at the quiet steps of their maven. Kylmie approached Cassius with eyes still curiously aglow with the shimmering, white light of the barrier she had invoked, but weariness listed through her features, contoured briefly with exhaustion and pain that ignited a tremor through her bones. Still, she stood before their once-upon-a-time foe, and with those piercing eyes, she regarded Aurora with a slight cant of her head. Hidden though by her cloak’s hood, Kylmie recognized that familiar thrum of a shredded essence on the slight girl, however, a coil of light, of purity and wholeness lingered there as a kernel of something unnamed but felt as warming tendrils of affection and hope. So frail, she mused, and with a shift to her right, she cut off Amma’s profile that gradually wavered in the distance, hissing tongues of flame accentuating her twisted features as another clash of thunder rolled through the remains of the Blackwood.
“Cassius,” Kylmie announced. “I won’t waste time with empty exchanges, the dragon will return and we hardly have the time to entertain you.” She carefully pushed wetted pieces of black from her face, a soft hiss punctuating her words whilst one of the vipers coiled up around her waist, resting a wide, horned head on her shoulder, eyes of vermillion fixated on Aurora with a thick, ebony tongue flickering in curious appraisal. “If the Jarl sent you, I’m afraid it’s on a failed quest. Even if someone had come to us, we’d never give them to you, or him.”
The vampire exhaled slowly through his nose, the corners of his mouth twitching in restrained irritation, but he did not let his feelings show beyond that.
“Kylmie,” Cassius stated by way of an acknowledgment, and Aurora quickly gathered that the woman must have been high amongst their ranks. “I understand your mistrust,” He sympathized, his intonation steady, measured. “But I don’t answer to anyone, especially the Jarl. I have no interest in any affairs other than my own.” He broke Kylmie’s gaze to glance at the storm-ravaged sky. “Whatever grievances you still hold against me, I doubt the dragon will care for your grudges when it strikes again. So just-”
“She’s my friend.”
Aurora stepped forward despite her companion’s earlier words of warning, straightening and holding her ground against those that surrounded them. She could instantly feel his patience wane as a direct result of her going against his wishes. She pulled back her hood just enough to reveal more of her soft features and copper hair, the strands curling at the ends as the rain continued to fall.
“She’s here, I saw her.” She pressed, her sapphire eyes flicking past Kylmie’s shoulder and the snake that was now perched there which made her heartbeat quicken. “Please, I just want to bring her back.” She expressed, softer now, but no less resolute.
Kylmie’s eyes softened, albeit briefly and hesitantly, still her countenance waned at the reveal of Aurora all the same with her copper hair and bright eyes shaded by the crimson light of the moon spearing through the clouded sky. The viper lifted from her shoulder and exchanged a glance with her, a method of communication with a sentient creature that flitted over the threshold of bestial aggression. Intelligence simmered there in those resplendent eyes, shimmering a myriad of colors reminiscent of precious gems before it coiled across her nape and rested over her opposite shoulder, dismissing Aurora and Cassius entirely.
Quietly, she leaned close, bent slightly at the waist to scrutinize the breadth of Aurora’s sorrows, quaint and minute, but impacted by loss all the more with her pleading words.
“What is your name?”
Silence stretched between them, Aurora’s gaze stuck on the reptile whose beady eyes seemingly gathered unspoken judgement. Cassius nudged her, a little too forcefully, and the girl looked to her companion and his darkened gaze. He shook his head subtly, imparting another warning upon the redhead to not reveal herself, but the girl did not heed it. They had come this far, she was right there, and this opportunity would not pass her by.
“Aurora,” Her voice was level despite the weight of so many eyes upon her. “My name is Aurora.”
There was a brief flicker, subtle, barely-there, just a flashing glimmer of recognition as soon as she spoke her name aloud and Kylmie took a delicate step back, her palms suddenly wed together, clutching her fingers into an interlocked web of trepidation. She had heard her name before, uttered painfully by the girl she undoubtedly was seeking. But to what end, she contemplated and silently stepped aside to reveal Amma who shook with a powerful tremor, as if an unspooled connection of her shattered being that became suddenly aware that she was not so alone. Her arms dropped from where they had woven around her middle and she made careful steps forward, eyes peeled wide as Kylmie gestured for the remainders of her coven to make space for this reunion. Shock rolled through her, swallowed immediately by an unknown emotion that simmered beside a rage; a sweltering wrath of something eclipsed by the finite wells of pain that only this realm could bring. She met Aurora’s eyes and within, she snapped.
“Aurora?” She hissed around that name, and let it curl over her tongue awash in unbridled disbelief and agony. The last she had seen her… No, she hadn’t been there. Right? The dance. They vanished. They left.
Left them to nothing- behind, while the beast tore them apart. Or, had she done that? Where was the demarcation of the true beast conceptualized from the shadows that threatened to pull her beyond the depths of the void? How did she even know if this was real? Thus far this world had revealed nothing but misery and lies, and in the aftermath of the dragon, who was to say this was not another ploy to tear asunder the depths of heart? Her hollow eyes narrowed, devoid of their crystalline shine, and remained as deadened slivers of sudden mistrust.
“Or is this another trap? Maybe I’m dreaming, again. Maybe the dragon did kill us; stuck in an endless loop of this… place.”
Aurora’s breath caught in her throat, air stolen from her lungs as Amma’s words met her ears, raw and frayed at the edges. There was no warmth to the raven haired girl’s voice - there never had been as long as she’d known her - but this felt different, colder, if that was even possible. She looked wrecked, her usually striking features hollowed by grief, by skepticism, by something dangerously close to despair. Her eyes, the mirror to her own, felt unfamiliar, lacking their normal sharpness. The redhead had never seen her in such a state so…
Broken.
Cautiously, she moved towards her, but again, Cassius attempted to intervene. He placed a strong hand on Aurora’s shoulder, leaning in close to her cheek and whispering in her ear.
"It’s possible she’s not the same girl you once knew."
"Amma," She shrugged off the vampire’s grip and took another step towards her. Her tone was gentle, as if speaking too loudly might cause her friend to crumble entirely. “This isn’t a trap or a dream. I’m real, I’m here.” In one fluid motion she removed the hood of her cape and let it fall to her back, fully putting herself on display to help discern reality from dream. Taking a deep breath, she chose to use the name the girl had revealed that fateful night, the one she’d held close to her chest since then.
“Ammaranthe.”
The name hung between them, thick with meaning, with memory. It was a tether, fragile and tenuous, but a tether all the same.
“Don’t-” she hissed, fingers splayed, cracking, palms once bidden and assaulted by coils of red now devoid of their manifest, the once tangible threads of the world succumbed to her rage forsaken as her hands shook with such a tremor that her arms trembled. A name that was not her name, that withheld all the power in the world, her world, now shaded in red. Her muscles bunched and grew rigid, every line in Amma’s body shored up and taut, shoulders drawn out and in as she approached Aurora on that fateful calling. It whispered betwixt them over, and over, and over again, echoing off the voided space of her ribs where the dredges of darkness lingered eternally, ragged and decrepit, no longer omnipotent.
“You might be here now... But you weren’t there.” Why did it enrage her so? It felt wrong, soiled, undeserving even, but her designation lanced deep, planted itself there, and writhed in remembrance of the one who had found her name hidden in the depths of her despair. Written in scarlet whorls of destruction to shatter against her ailed soul, the memories that still sluiced through her mind hazed out in monochromatic shadows possessed of blue eyes and the spindle of red she had given her once, another life she had saved.
“I did not give that name to you.”
Aurora tensed, but did not yield nor falter. No, she lifted her chin intentionally as Amma lashed out, each word ammunition, each syllable honed to wound, yet they did not deter her.
“But you did give me your name - at least you tried to. During the trial before you were dragged into the void.”
"Tell everyone - I'm --!"
“Maybe it wasn’t intentional. You probably didn’t even want to. But perhaps you needed to, and I’ve held onto that since.” She revealed, “It was only after the dance that I finally learned what you were hoping to say.” Aurora could see Cassius out of the corner of her eye, shaking his head in disagreement, but he didn’t understand. There was a raw, visceral pull in her chest, an undeniable certainty that she had to reach Amma - had to break through the fury and grief curling off of her in waves.
“I know I wasn’t there, that we weren’t there. If we had been, things would have been very different, and I’m so, so sorry for that,” The redhead replied, taking another step towards the girl, attempting to close the distance just a bit more. “I’ve carried that guilt with me and will continue to for a long time. Lorcán as well.”
“But neither he or I came here to make excuses or attempt to justify our failure. We came here to find you, Amma, and so did he.”
Did she try? Had she honestly been so desperate in her pleas for mutual understanding, to give the name that was not her name? For kinship, warmth, home? To simply have something in her life as her choice? The Trials were so, so distant from now, and yet so fairly similar, the circumstances were almost daunting in comparison. Deposited into the void, manipulated and assaulted, lain with scars and blood, and powerless to do anything about it. The scar fissured over her heart pulsated, as if newly made and aware of the crimson-shaded doubt that bubbled up in her throat, voice hoarse and dragged over shards of glass as Amma laughed.
“Or maybe you’d be dead, just like –”
Wait.
Her laughter warbled and fell, near hysterics and forlorn and daring, denying any truth or hope that might’ve dawned in her manic eyes that pierced deep into Aurora’s pleading, seeking stare.
“He? Who, Aurora? Who else came to this goddamn place? Who?!”
“Gil, Gil is here.”
Aurora paused, eyes going wide as the raven haired girl’s expression shifted - not to relief, as she had expected, but to something far more unsettling. Confusion knitted her brow, the embers of her fury still smoldering, yet no longer all-consuming. Doubt crept in at the edges, cracking through the hardened walls of her rage.
“Oh god,” The redhead murmured, realization dawning as the pieces fell into place. “Did you think he was-” She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
Amma had believed Gil was gone.
The weight of it pressed against Aurora’s ribs, stealing the air from her lungs, and she swallowed hard, her throat having gone dry.
“Gil is alive, Amma. He’s alive and he never stopped looking for you, he’s the reason we’re here.” She exhaled, her voice thick with emotion, and took another step closer. “Lorcán and I… we hoped we’d find you, but Gil?”
“He would have torn the world apart if it meant getting to you.”
“Gil is dead.” Amma snapped. “I knelt in his blood, I saw him-” She gasped, heaving, and drawing in rib-shattering gulps of air. She can’t breathe. A part of her denies the probability that he survived, a part of her can’t; a part of her doesn’t want to. She can’t rely on the lingering swell of hope that feathered through her heart and held it preciously in delicate hands. Her life was not meant for such promising rescues, none had ever done so before, so why now? To what end did Amma Cahors deserve such longing and grace?
“I saw him torn apart, I saw his clones shredded. You weren’t there. You didn’t see- no, but I felt it.” She lances her nails against her scar, pierces around puckered, reddened flesh, tears through the moth scoured and impaled over her heart, torn and defiled.
“I felt everything.”
It’s too good to be true, for this place, Ünterland as she knew it to be named now, was taking all that she yearned for and twisted, deformed, and manipulated it, just as her body had been for years. But what if he was alive? The entanglement of their sorrows bled through her fear and doubt and Amma held onto the kernel nestled betwixt her ribs. It split, cracked, as a singular, unnamed emotion that had long planted itself there under the moonlight shadows of their first night together. Here, it bloomed with that lingering connection forged at the dance, the merging of selves known as they once were, and could have been and maybe now as they could be if what Aurora said was true.
“If… If this is real. If you’re real. If he is alive.” Her voice cracked and strained. “Then why are you here alone?”
Aurora shook her head gently.
“He’s not dead Amma. I may not have been there then, but I promise you that he walked out of that dance alive.” She finally closed the distance between them, inches separating their pale faces and matching blue eyes. “I’ll spare you all the details but it’s because of him that we’re here - he sought out Alyssa who connected us with Ellara who brought us to Ünterland.” The redhead broke Amma’s gaze only to look to Cassius, who seemed to stiffen at the mention of the latter. “We’ve been on quite the journey but Gil has stopped at nothing to find you.”
Her expression fell at the raven haired girl’s following question, but Aurora didn’t hesitate to answer, not if it meant gaining her favor.
“When we emerged from Limbo, Gil wasn’t with us. Ellara believed he was pulled elsewhere, likely closer to where you were, so we continued on only to be ambushed in the forest. Lorcán and I got separated-” Sadness befell her delicate features before she inclined her head to the vampire standing nearby. “- and then Cassius found me. We had a bit of an interesting start but he eventually agreed to help me.”
Amma nodded slowly, carefully, digesting her words with an expression that bespoke of unraveling anguish and dissociation, pieces of her ragged soul crumbling into the void as she struggled to believe her. To look into those eyes that mirrored everything that she was not, pinpricks of warmth and devotion that eternally simmered there as a guiding light to better days. Aurora had the strength to love, such an intimacy that Amma only knew to be agonizing. She wondered if the look crossing over her features matched the dejected hopelessness Aurora had worn that day when she came to her in solitary…
So much had changed.
“Ellara… I know that name.” She uttered, “Kylmie said she might be able to help me get back. I was,” Amma paused considerably, for where did she begin. “I was stuck in Limbo for a long time. It felt like maybe hours, but apparently, it was weeks. Being hunted by something. And then I was brought here by the wolves when they found me coming over the cliffs…” How did she even begin to detail that Kylmie was her grandmother and the hidden truths of her mother even after such a confession? Amma’s eyes flitted towards Cassius, flickering down and then up in her deliberate study, committing his profile to her memory, and immediately shored up her guard at his peculiar presence, it was unsettling in such a way not unlike Dain’s influence.
“There’s also this… dragon. Dain thought,” Amma’s voice dragged over his name, his death also burned into her mind. His blood was now on her hands too. “That it followed me here. I’m beginning to think he was right.”
Aurora’s eyes widened. Amma had been in Limbo for weeks?
The redhead glanced down at her hand subtly, at the rune that marred her pale skin, stitched by thread and bone. Even with it protecting her during the passage through Limbo, the journey had still been a painful one, having felt as though invisible forces were attempting to pry her apart. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the thought of Amma enduring such agony without that same defense. It also meant that in the time since that fateful night at the dance, she had spent the majority of it alone. In pain. No one should have been subjected to such a fate, especially the raven haired girl in front of her who had already suffered enough. Aurora’s eyes began to water, but she willed herself to maintain her composure.
“If he’s right, and it’s you that the dragon is hunting, then we need to get out of here.” She averted her gaze and took in the destruction around them. “Ellara is the only one who can take us back, but I have no clue where she is.” She caught Cassius’ obsidian stare, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“You failed to mention the Jäger, fair one.” He pursed his lips disapprovingly, “Quite an important detail to leave out.” Aurora glared at the vampire in response to his interjection, her sapphire eyes icy.
“Let me guess, she doesn’t like you either?”
“Not particularly, no.”
Amma idly watched Aurora’s exchange with Cassius, she reminded herself of his name, her arms subtly crossing at her chest, palms and nails perched on either bicep where she holds firm, reigning in her sense flung far and wide. She attempts to piece together the reality that maybe Gil was alive. But the flicker of hope sputtered as a rain drenched flame, the kindling of her earlier sorrows and wrath still pulsating against her ribs, the bones aching with every draw of her breath as she permitted her mind to wonder. It wasn’t a luxury she could much afford, but what could she do but cling to the fragment of possibility that all was not lost? It was a fickle, fleeting thing, barely felt and reminiscent of a child’s dream, a child Amma had long since lost in the darkest recesses of her pain.
“In Limbo, when I-” to admit that she crawled through filth struck at her pride and she mulled over her words. “Managed to get out, there was this light, I followed it out. Maybe…”
A rippling drum of thunder echoed through the clouds, another bout of rain looming in the distance as the storm doubled in its descent, red lightning striking off into the distance, followed by a faded screech of agony and rage.
“The dragon is still out there.” Amma turned at Kylmie’s approach, her serpentine companion gone as the rain resumed and fell, remnants of flame hissing in defiance of the deluge before snuffed out entirely. “And in this storm, you won’t get very far.”
Amma said nothing, her lashes fluttering at the water that clung to them, marking down her cheeks as her stare flickered back towards Aurora, and then Cassius before she regarded the clouds above and the slivers of crimson moonlight that fell.
“It’ll come back.”
“Yes.”
Having overheard some of their exchange, Kylmie began: “If Ellara is here, then she’ll find us before you can even begin to search for her. And if your other companions are out there…”
“I can only hope they’re safe, and that maybe they’ll find their way here, just as you have.” She gestured towards Aurora. “But even then, rest is what is needed. The dragon regains its strength, and so must we.”
The redhead stiffened at the audible rumble of the storm, but nodded in agreement with Kylmie’s recommendation, the moisture in her eyes returning at the mention of their friends. Her heart yearned for Lorcán, her home, but deep down she knew he’d find his way back to her, just as they promised each other they always would. Until then, she and Amma needed to be smart, conserve their energy, and bide their time. It was the only way they would have a chance at making it out of this plane alive.
“We’ll stay then, if you’ll have us.” Aurora replied, studying the older woman. “I’m sorry to impose, especially considering the circumstances.” Kylmie merely shook her head with a soft, maternal smile sliding through her features.
“No apologies needed, a friend of my…” She stalled, noting Amma’s sudden, piercing stare. “Well, a friend. Despite the company you keep.”
She gestured off-handedly back toward her hut, to which Amma had already turned and walked towards, her steps sluggish and hesitant, unsure as to why she had stopped Kylmie from revealing their familial connections, uncertain of the sharp, piercing pain that lanced through her chest as another clash of thunder drowned out her sudden gasps as she disappeared inside. Kylmie watched her go with a brief glimpse of her regret before one of the wolves approached her, soft growls announcing their arrival and with a glance towards Cassius, she too left, slipping away as the storm raged on.
Aurora hesitated, the rain growing heavier with each passing moment, before turning her head to look at Cassius who was scowling, no doubt as a result of Kylmie’s comment.
“Witches hold grudges, it seems.” She commented, starting to move in the direction of the hut, but paused when she realized that the vampire was not following. “Are you coming?” She asked over her shoulder, and in response he shook his head.
“No, I’m not.” Cassius tilted his head slightly, clearly listening to something she couldn’t hear, “I’ll keep watch.”
The redhead sighed, pushing back wet strands of hair from her face.
“Why? You think someone else is out here?” She asked, her tone skeptical but not dismissive. “Or rather, something else?” The vampire didn’t answer right away. His obsidian eyes flickered toward the trees, then to the darkened horizon beyond before settling back on her.
“I don’t trust them, and they don’t trust me. It’s better if I stay out here.” He answered before pointing his chin towards the hut, his gaze softening slightly for a moment. “Go, rest. You need it.”
She studied him a moment longer, debating if she should press further as to why there was such tension, but something in his posture, the way his shoulders were taut and his eyes distant, made her pause. She could sense the unease in the air, but she also knew when to give someone their space. With a resigned sigh, Aurora nodded, though the nagging feeling of not getting the full story lingered in the pit of her stomach.
“Alright. I’ll be inside if you need me.”
With that, she turned and made her way toward the hut, the heavy downpour masking the sound of her footsteps. Cassius remained where he stood, unmoving as the rain slicked his dark hair to his forehead, his jaw clenched tight as thunder rolled in the distance.
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