❝ We must be prepared to sacrifice the few to save the many that will come after us. ❞
[book 2]
The Grey Bloods may have dwindled in number, but the creatures still gnaw at Muovea, threatening the small measure of peace that was won when the Grand D...
The journey is long and tedious. None of them sleep. They barely talk beyond low murmurings. Oliver stays busy, keeping watch, scouting ahead, rationing supplies, organising his men, making shaky plans for when they reach their next destination. Only the tantalising promise of the cure keeps them from giving up on this gruelling path.
Oliver finds he needs to keep busy to ignore the way his heart throbs every time he steals a glance at Alicia, trying to be discreet. She's always watching him and always catches him, her eyes green in the shadows.
He doesn't speak to her. He can't seem to talk when he's near her, holding back the words he really wants to speak. Why won't you ever trust me the way I trust you? He knows that conversation will only hurt more so he's not willing to bring it up.
Oliver won't force her to speak about things she doesn't want to. He has no right to demand that of her and some nights he lays awake wondering if he's being unreasonable feeling this dejected. Then he stops trying to puzzle out his feelings because there's no sense to them.
There are moments when the hurt becomes so intense that he nearly goes to her, nearly pulls her into his embrace to accept the pieces of herself she'll allow him to love. Then he remembers the heart-wrenching times she's pushed him away and refuses to subject himself to such pain when more pressing things demand his attention.
He's feeding a horse, whispering words of encouragement to the tired animal, when he hears a cough. It begins muffled, like the person is trying to hide it, then it worsens until the person is wheezing. He turns and Alicia has her mouth buried in the crease of her elbow, trying to slow her coughing fit.
He's by her side in the next moment, pressing a flask of water to her lips as he cradles the back of her neck. She looks at him, her eyes watering, but she drinks, regaining her breath. Then she pushes him away, a crease forming between her brows.
"It's best if you don't come near me," she says, taking a shaky breath and peering into his eyes.
Oliver stares at her for a long moment, the last thing on his mind is being away from her. But he nods and does as she requests.
The journey is long and tedious, and it only worsens with each moment that passes.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Through the early morning mist rises stone structures like creatures clawing their way out of their graves. The clearing is silent, even the animals that have scurried across their entourage won't follow them here.
An uneasy feeling assaults Oliver, one he can't seem to shake even after he checks that his revolver is fully loaded.
Kreenik stalks forward, seeming to know exactly where to go even amongst the thick mist shrouding the landscape. The creature's head turns like it's on a swivel and it lurches towards a cluster of stone. More Ghuls follow to begin clearing crumbled rock.
Oliver turns, searching through his people for one head in particular. He finds her swaddled in furs, slumped in the back of a cart, but her eyes are bright and aware, taking in the activities of the Ghuls.
