I thought I hated when Bogdan called me 'Songbird'. But there a man was, tensed, shocked, unsure if he wanted to kill me or hug me or both. As if I was still that girl.
There was nothing - absolutely nothing - worse than hearing that dead girl's name on this man's lips.
So I tilted my head in warning, hating the way my breath caught in my throat. One little word. One agonizing reminder.
"No," I said before I could stop myself. Beamol frowned, light from the fire behind me bouncing off his green eyes. Then he scoffed out a laugh.
"I knew you lot chose different names for yourselves upon admission," he stated. "I didn't think you held up to them so seriously."
"Yes, well, we're not exactly the same people anymore, are we?"
"You can't just change -" he started, but cut himself off. "My brother would kill you if he saw you here."
"Your brother could certainly try," I quipped, then mentally kicked myself when Beamol stiffened. "I'm not here to fight, Beamol. I'm here to warn you."
"Warn me?" He repeated. "Is this about the dream?"
Ah, so he remembered.
"Yes."
He swore, glancing away before fixing his eyes back on me. By the gods, was that a bit of gray in his hair?
"Erlan-"
"Wrenva."
". . . What?"
I crossed my arms over my chest.
"Or Wren, for short."
He took a moment to comprehend what I was telling him before he scoffed, tilting his head in obvious bewilderment.
"What are you, thirteen?"
I smiled, making my way out of the room - but I stopped next to him to respond.
"No. Petty. What better way to spite my mentor than to name myself after a cursed demon heiress?"
"Adtros' Bells," he cursed. "I'm not calling you-"
"I said you can call me Wren. But by the gods, Beamol, I refuse to go by any other name."
I pushed away from the Caster, allowing him to stutter over his words while I studied more of his home interior. Paintings and decorative weapons lined the walls, which stood tall and narrow like the inside of a wide tower. I guessed they slept in the rooms that led upstairs, but I didn't want to test my old acquaintance further by invading more of his home than I already had, so I stopped in the middle of the open area.
"I am being hunted by a ravtin," I informed. "That was what you saw in . . . That dream."
There was a bout of silence before Beamol spoke, accusing me by questions he already knew the answers to.
"It's her, isn't it? She came back."
I pulled my cloak tighter around me, as if it could somehow shield me from the shadows abound.
"She's not just a ravtin. She has power - from my knowledge, she's killed at least two other Circle members, and has been hunting countless other wayguards. Nearly killed mine, too."
I somewhat wished she had. Okay, so I was still a little pissed at Bogdan for kicking my ass in the mud back at Canden.
"I'd say that's a bit of justice, then."
Ouch.
"Perhaps it would be," I agreed, turning back around to face him. "She is a being born of revenge; she doesn't care who's blood she has to spill to get it."
"And why is this my problem?"
"Because my wayguard used you to tear me from her grasp." I paused, unable to look at him as I continued. "Up until now, I . . . I kept her from looking at those around me." Those she could use to get to me.
I waited for him to say something, but it seemed like he was waiting for me to elaborate further.
"It is only a matter of time before she seeks you out, if she hasn't done so already. I wanted to ensure that you are aware of the danger."
Then, not wanting to spend a moment more facing a man I hadn't seen in close to fifteen years, I headed towards the front door when a thought came to me.
"By the way, I saw the boy."
I didn't need to see him to know he went stiffer than a beam.
"The boy?"
He knew damn well who I was speaking about.
"I don't know how you did it, Beamol, and quite frankly, I would rather not know what kind of price you had to pay for it. But if I haven't convinced you to mind yourself about the ravtin - her name is Rhoe - then this should. You do not want her to find out about him. It . . . Ravtins can do awful things to those who share their blood."
I barely had my hand on the doorknob when Beamol released a disgruntled sound.
"So that's it?" He accused. "You come into my home fifteen years after you tortured and killed your own sister and nephew, to warn me of a monster that you created, and now you're going to leave - again? Are you still too much of a coward to fight your own demons?"
I shouldn't have laughed. Really. I should have just walked right out the door. Instead, I found myself marching my dumb ass back to the man who very clearly wouldn't mind seeing it in flames, but for some reason, refused to do it, himself.
Oh, if only you knew.
He even let me get right up next to him, no matter that he stood a couple of heads taller than me.
"You would be pleased with the place I'm about to go to - if you must know, I'm literally going to hell," I remarked, not at all bothering to hold back the snark in my tone. "I'm going to try looking for a way to stop Rhoe before she ascends whatever the fuck comes after a ravtin, but as I'm being hunted by the Nevhian God of the Dead, there is a very, very decent chance I won't be alive long enough to take her down with me. So believe me, Beamol, when I say that I would have rather had left you to believe I was dead all this time for centuries more than to be here, but I am tired of paying a price I've paid a thousand times over. I figured the least I could do was warn you."
"Do you think this will atone you?" He said quietly, as if he spoke any louder, something would break. I smiled.
"I wish people would stop assuming I'm seeking forgiveness. This is your chance to prepare, Beamol. Take it - for the boy's sake, at least."
Don't let whatever you had to give for him to be here be in vain.
I took a step back. Then another. It wasn't until I spun around that Beamol sighed, as if already regretting what he was about to say.
"Wait. I'm coming with you."
So Beamol still had a sense of humor, after all.
"Nice joke," I said, continuing my stride.
"There's conflict in the wayfolds - that is how you intend to enter the underworld, is it not?"
I thought of the strange way the wayfolds had reacted the last time I'd passed through there. Shit, did I tell Frenza or anyone else about that?
"Your runes won't help you navigate through there," he continued.
"And you think I'd trust you at my back?"
"If what you say is true, Travik's life is at sake. I don't know a single person that can fight a ravtin. I'd be better off saving him by helping you."
"Come with that in thirty seconds, did you?"
"You need a Caster."
"I'll find someone else." Fuck, I was not looking forward to getting anyone else killed.
"You won't find anyone better."
Oh, bitter and conceited.
Before I could come up with a response he really wouldn't appreciate, the floor suddenly disappeared beneath my feet.
"Whoa-" I began, throwing my arms out in a vain attempt to catch myself, but there was nothing for me to catch myself on. No, I was falling. Falling down a dark, black hole with seemingly no end. Strange lights flooded my peripheral, bright and blurry all at once as the zoomed by, moving at speeds no living thing ever accomplished. Then, when I felt my stomach turn inside out, I spotted a grim, checkered floor rapidly approaching-
Stupid, horrible Casters.
I resisted the urge to twist my body in an attempt to ease the upcoming impact, keeping myself perfectly still. Wait, he's not even speaking.
I was no longer falling. Instead, I was standing where I had been moments before, inside a tall and narrow house that I never wanted to step foot in, again. My legs nearly gave out beneath me, not quite trusting that I hadn't really fallen down a massive dark hole with swarming lights. I gritted my teeth, swallowed back the rising bile, and turned to face the illusionist asshole with a few tricks of my own.
He wasn't there.
Oooh, I was not in the mood to play these games.
"I promise you, Beamol, that you do not want to see what's all inside my head." I shouted, narrowing my eyes against the lone room for anything out of order. I could feel something lurking around my mind, aching to be released, aching to be seen.
That was the thing about Caster magic. All they had to do was set the foundation and let their targets' minds run rampant.
I did not much like the idea of my mind being manipulated. Not again.
Murky, thick liquid began to seep out from knicks within the walls. The distinguishable growl of a grayver echoed through the small library to my side.
"Beamol," I warned, hand darting to my sword. Loud, raspy breathing came from somewhere behind me.
Bodgan, where the hell are you? I seethed, struggling to focus. To my knowledge, Casters needed to speak in order to carry out illusions like this. All someone had to do to break out of the hold was concentrate on listening for low, frantically whispered words and take a swing in the direction they came from.
But I couldn't make out a damn thing.
Fine. The breathing behind me grew more intense. I shoved my hand in my pocket, grabbing the same vial of liquid that I had been ready to use at the inn. I'd like to see the Caster keep this up while choking over his own lungs.
"You will never be forgotten," hissed the creature directly behind me.
Dark walls. Small space. Everything was closing in around-
I raised the vial, ready to pop the top off.
The illusions vanished within an instant. Beamol appeared in front of me, eying my unassuming weapon. Oh, good. Either he knew what it was or he knew enough about erlas not to want to find out.
"You have five hours," I spat, sheathing the vial in its rightful place.
Then, because I was just too pissed to care, I shot out my hand to grab the idiot by the collar of his cloak, wrapping it around my fist before yanking him down to eye level all withing two seconds. He almost fell to his knees from the force, somehow managing to steady himself by the time I brought our faces together.
"If you ever attempt that again, I don't care if we find ourselves head-to-head with a horde of demons, I will gut you alive and leave you to choke on stomach acid." I paused, staring directly into his face to let the words sink in. I lowered my voice from the near-yell it had been to a whisper. "I've done it before."
He raised his hands in a gesture of peace.
"That's fair," he acknowledged, though as much as he appeared cautious, there was a level of curiosity lingering beneath his expression that had me shoving him away before I got into another fight.
"Tell your brother and nephew whatever you have to," I said, albeit a bit stiffly. "I'll meet you at Bendon's Edge."
Beamol scowled. "How would you know to go there?"
I waved the question away.
"I make it a point to know where the wayfolds intercede - even if I never use some of them. Five hours, Beamol," I reminded. "If you're not there by then, I will leave without you."
Then, for what felt like the upteenth time in the past ten minutes, I attempted to leave. This time, I went uninterrupted, not caring the Beamol was most likely feeling a plethora of mixed emotions watching me go. In truth, I was resisting the dread wanting to unfurl at the idea of traveling with him. A decade and a half, and I hadn't so much as spoken to him. Now all of a sudden, he's wanting to go with me to a place that made up the majority of our nightmarish stories to tell misbehaving children and misguided adults.
Not to mention, he was there when my life turned around. He would have questions, and I did not care in the slightest to hear them, much less provide an answer. And what if I got him killed? Would I then have to ensure his brother did not seek the companion that drew him to hell to begin with for answers of his own?
If that's the case, hopefully I'll be too dead to care.
~ 2236 Words ~