A Deadly Bite

16.2 || A Guiding Little Whisper

Edita raises an eyebrow. She appears unfazed by the threat, although I'm sure I catch the slightest hitch in her confidence, the tiniest falter that shrinks her smile and rests her hand on her hilt. She doesn't draw her blade, however. It's a relief. I doubt I could fend her off if she chose to return my attack.

"If you insist," she says. "It is your life we are on a timer to save, after all."

I tighten my grip on my hilt, determined not to falter. Answers first. I'm not so desperate that I can't dedicate time to caution. "What are you?"

She blinks. "Human." Her hand lifts, tipping as she studies it. Her nails are so long that they might be considered claws. "I think."

A twitch of my sword yanks her attention back to me. "You know that's not what I mean." My heart pounds, pumping spiky heat into my veins that jars uncomfortably with the icy whisper of fear. "You're dead." My tongue stumbles over the statement, but I push it out regardless, keeping the words flowing. "I killed you. I've relived it over and over in my dreams. How are you here?"

"Ah." She runs her hand through her threads of hair, some air of sadness drooping her frown. "That is the true mystery, is it not?" She sighs. "Truth be told, Noli, I really do not know."

"You're lying." Something in my core twists painfully, a strange mix of confusion and wrongness and the endless thrum of longing's pain. My sword's tip crinkles her shirt. "You even know my name. Noli. You shouldn't know that name."

"I was surprised about that, too. It simply... came to me." Edita meets my gaze. It's so difficult to read the emotion in her flooded eyes, though some part of me wants to believe I can see honesty. "Is it a problem that I use it?"

I run my tongue over my lips. There isn't a clear answer to that question. Each name carries a different heaviness; indecision waves their weights from day to day, dancing them above and below one another until I feel cracked into two halves. I shake aside the feeling. "That's not the point. Answer me."

Deep thought draws her expression inward. "My memory is hazy, but I will try." She studies the blade of my sword as if her words are scratched upon its metal surface, nearly impossible to read as she stumbles through them. "I barely recall the sensation of your flame. All I remember is... blackness, I suppose. Her hand drops to her side, her white hair tie clutched in it. Her hair falls limply to her shoulders. "When I awoke, the forest was empty, and I knew nothing but the desire to find you. So I searched. Now, I know all kinds of things, although without any sort of explanation." She smiles distantly. "Like a guiding little whisper in my ear."

My mind reels. Somewhere in its far reaches, I recall the notion Izar spoke of. My father revived my mother by diving into the flame's forbidden arts. Did I somehow draw upon the same power, without meaning to? All I've ever known my flame to crave is death, and yet it's the only plausible explanation I can uncover, strange as I find it. Am I truly capable of bringing back the dead?

My cuffs seem to pinch tighter around my wrists, and I draw in a steadying breath, another pang of desire rippling through my chest. Although this one tastes different. I can't help but wonder what I might have been if I knew how to save lives rather than taking them.

I think of the fear in Fiesi's eyes, the darkness in his tone. Still the image persists.

"Does that satisfy?" Edita prompts, staring pointedly at my sword.

Jolting myself back to the present, I try to reorder my thoughts. "I... I guess it makes sense. But..." The wrongness twists in my gut again. "You hated me. You wanted me dead. Why would you now seek to save me?"

She laughs, a soft, low chuckle cradled close for her own amusement rather than mine. "You killed Oswin. Right." She looks at me properly, and I'm sure I catch the faintest twinkle in her eye, a pinprick of the sun's feeble rays reflecting from just the right spot. "It feels like an age ago now. I suppose dying does tend to shift perspective."