Bereft: Foretold

13 | A Prospective Journey

The Gate hadn't been the only explosion to rip through Verweald.

Across the city, lines of smoke rose to smudge the hazy horizon, each trail ascending from the hollow of a building blasted by the syndicate or my Absolian brother. The humans who flooded the rain-slicked street were terrified, confused, and thus quick to anger. Their cars collided in the panic, and red-faced men stood in the downpour, screaming at one another, throwing punches and kicks while their women cried for them to stop and sirens wailed like untended children in the background.

The city was a train without brakes careening off the rails. There was only one Absolian now, but if the mages didn't check their behavior, more would come. More always came.

I stared at the sky as the rain lashed at the car window, and wondered when more would descend, when the one called Aurelius would be called to answer for what he'd done. All I'd ever learned about the Absolians stated he was acting far beyond the orders of his King—and the High King was not to be fucked with.

He'd once sentenced more than half his familiars to death because of one man's rebellion.

I can't fathom the reason behind his actions, I mused, lip curling at the pain yet assailing my broken cheek and swollen eye. But they won't stand for one of their own causing such unrest and destruction. More will come.

The question was; would they stop him in time? 

Amoroth knew every avenue, byway, lane, and crevice of Verweald—every unmarked street omitted on maps, every forsaken tunnel barring passage, every bridge and rail and dirt pathway. The humans may've been stuck in Verweald's fetid downtown crush, but the Sin wasn't hampered by the traffic or the growing mob. Once we reached her car in the sublevel, she navigated us past the horde with ease. 

Soon Verweald was behind us, and the black shoulders of the sodden hills surrounded the car.

"Sometimes I wonder why we even bother coming here, why we come to Terrestria," Amoroth uttered under her breath, the words low but audible above the subdued roar of tires on the asphalt. "Why we bother enslaving ourselves to the wills of creatures we could crush with our bare hands, why we put ourselves in mortal peril for them when they spit at us, attack us, savage us. Why do we not leave this realm to them? Why do we not just let it burn?"

I understood her apathy, her anger. How could I not? I yearned to berate the woman and to burn her ears with the unending horrors I'd underwent—but I held in my words, if not my derisive sneer. "How do you think the Isle fell? We were hated, reviled, and hunted like dogs by the Dreaming Children. When the fractus began to tear them apart, we...we did nothing, and because we did nothing, the Isle was ripped to shreds and the world burned. I expect Cuxiel has told you this tale."

The woman said nothing as she continued to drive, swerving around slower moving vehicles. To my relief, the pressure of the Absolian's power wasn't trailing us. "He told me if life doesn't give challenges, it's not worth living. He'd probably see all of this as another great adventure to undertake."

She didn't wish to speak about him. I heard the reluctance in her tone, could see it in the dull sheen of her eyes. The Sin couldn't stay in the city—couldn't remain in the home she'd built for herself brick by bloody brick, and the man who'd been her teacher, her lover, and her closest friend for all her life was gone. I hated her, and yet admired how she managed to remain composed at such a dismal hour.

Looking out the window, I recognized the area, and knew where she was taking us. "We're going to Sara's house?" 

"We're going to your house. I need to wash this filth off of me." She splayed a crimson hand painted in gore. "Then I'm going to leave you to your affairs while I sort out my own."