Journey to the Darkest Grave

5 1 1
                                    

Ezra and I packed some things before we left. After resting in our beds in the Underworld for the night, we set off on our journey.

We traveled quite some distance on the first day. Bird wings were much faster than pixie wings. Ezra assisted me in setting up a camp. I never believed Ezra could do hard labor, but he easily proved me wrong. We ate our dinner in an exhausted silence.

"I'm sorry," Ezra finally broke the peace.

"For what?" I turned his way.

"For not reaching out sooner. Your parents were steadfast that we shouldn't meddle, that you and Orpheus can fight your own battles. It took all my will not to. Without your magic trace, we wouldn't have found you anyway. If you hadn't reached out to me, I wouldn't have been able to contact you. But I wish I could have sooner. I regret it every day."

Ezra had reached over to move my hair away from the patch. I couldn't see it, but I felt my hair move. He caressed my cheek. The velvet patch was a blazing beacon of what I had done.

"I can't help but think," his voice sounded wobbly. "If I had reached out sooner, maybe you would have been saved. Your father could have healed this sooner. Perhaps then you wouldn't have lost -"

"Ezra," my hand enveloped his. "It was past alchemic healing from the day I lost it. Even my magic could only rewind the time to stave off infection. There's nothing that could have been done."

"Yes," he let his hand fall. "You're right. I'm being foolish."

"You're thinking optimistically, is all," I shrugged.

After some time, I went to retreat. I left our tent for some water before I officially retired. Ezra stayed by the fire.

"Are you not coming to bed?" I gestured.

"No," Ezra shook his head, closing the book between his hands. "I won't sleep for a bit anyway. Go ahead and rest."

I was curious about what he had written, but I kept that to myself.

~*~

The following morning, I awoke next to Ezra. He seemed so small when he was asleep. My eyes wandered to his journal, a smaller leather-bound thing. I was curious, but I wouldn't let it shatter my trust in Ezra.

I slipped from the tent, assembling a breakfast. Ezra awoke and ate. Then, we traveled further into the woods around us. The trees grew denser. The woods became darker.

"What are we after?" I was a dog at his heels.

"Something I had abandoned," Ezra answered.

"Where are we going?" I couldn't fight the cold now pressing against my shoulders.

"To the most haunted battlefield."

I chewed on those words a bit. What battlefield would be the most haunted? There have been many battles throughout history. Did haunted mean where the most lay dead? Or was it where the worst thing was summoned?

"Is it..." How could I articulate it to him? "Where Titania had died?"

He stopped walking. "It is, in fact. I know this was a foolish place to go, but I think I need the sword for us to prosper in the next war."

"What sword?" I chased him.

Ezra again froze, but he grabbed my arms this time, pulling me behind a tree. Arrows cracked into the wood on the other side. I waited, hearing the cracking of sticks that meant approaching enemies.

"I've got this," I moved to step forward.

"Just because I'm a magic user doesn't mean I'm useless in battle. You need to save what magic you have," Ezra instructed. "Get down."

Ancient Monsters (Chasing Titania #3)Where stories live. Discover now