Bound in Spirals

Chapter 12 - Branch

——Sam——

Sam woke with a start. "Wh-What was that?" He muttered, rubbing his forehead.

'Was that just a dream?' He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. '...No.' He took a deep breath. 'The messenger. They called me the Hanged Man. I know I've heard that somewhere before, but when...? And queenkiller... That sounds foreboding. Well, I suppose both of them do...'

He leaned forward, resting his forehead in his hands. It didn't register at the time, but he was surprisingly limber compared to the excruciating soreness of a couple hours before. 'All that stuff he said, it's kinda unbelievable. I shouldn't really take it too seriously, right...?' He stared sightlessly at his feet. '...It's as if I can't not believe it somehow. My fate...'

Sam leaned back, taking a slow breath. Dettella was still asleep across from him, but the handmaiden, Giela, was no longer in the carriage. Theodore breathed laboriously beside him. He was looking worse and worse. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes were ringed with a bruised purple, his skin a sickly yellow. 'We'll be there soon...'

Looking out the window, he realized it was still quite dark out. Apparently, he hadn't slept for very long. 'I need to clear my head a bit.' He thought and pulled his cloak over his shoulders as he pushed open the door. In the back of his mind, he felt Samson stirring, but he didn't approach, seemingly sensing that Sam wanted to be alone for the moment.

As he stepped out into the cool air of night, he saw a similar campfire to the night before. This time, Giela was sat next to a disgruntled looking Fenella. The captive elves glanced back at the huge furry form that circled the perimeter of the clearing several times as Sam watched. Letta's glossy black eyes reflected the flickering flame as she glanced at him. Apparently sensing the same thing Samson had, she didn't speak to him.

Darrel was leaned against a tree with his eyes closed and arms crossed. Sam wondered if he was sleeping. As far as he knew, the guard didn't sleep at all, but perhaps he'd caught him at one of the few moments he did. One eye flicked open as Sam walked past. 'Guess not.' As he left the dancing circle of light, he heard some of the elves starting to argue softly. He was curious what they were arguing about, but not enough to stay and find out.

'I'll just take a short walk.' The forest was so black that his eyes couldn't quite adjust to it, no matter how hard he strained. It felt... well, dark. In order to be able to find his way back, he began leaving small binds to the crusty bark of the trees as he walked. As he did so, he tried to control the amount of magic in his body.

Around some trees, the roots were so densely woven that they created an uneven platform at their base. Small fronds of dark green peeked out from between roots and inside hollows, their long, thin leaves tickling Sam every time he brushed against them. Moss grew just about everywhere he looked, painting everything with a bright green.

It was difficult to keep focused at first, especially with the demented happiness nagging at his mind, but after a little while he was able to keep the light of his forms at a soft glow. 'I need to practice this sort of thing more often. If I can't control my own magic I'll just keep having those episodes of lunacy.'

'I can't let myself do that. I'll end up hurting someone. Like what already happened with Vielchena...' He shook his head. 'I think I really messed up her mind somehow. Was it that bad? Dettella still hasn't really elaborated on what happened. I probably scarred her permanently. All because I couldn't control myself. I don't know what's worse, that I did it in the first place, or that I don't really feel guilty about it anymore. To be fair, she did attack us...'