When I woke up in the blue room, everything was silent and still. Large squares of moonlight spilled across my bed and onto the smooth floor, dust motes dancing elegantly in the pale light. I watched them for a second as my mind slowly grew more alert. My whole body felt numb, as if some kind of impossible weight had just been lifted off of me. I lifted a hand and examined it closely; in the moonlight, I was as pale as snow, and my skin was smooth and unblemished. There was no reason for my flesh to feel as if it had been pummelled.
Looking around, I jerked in surprise to see a figure sprawled in a chair beside my bed. Roan was fast asleep, his limbs relaxed as they hung awkwardly, and his eyes moving gently beneath the delicate skin of his eyelids. Soft snores rose from the back of his throat, making his chest rise and fall rhythmically. In the muted light, he was even more beautiful - he looked like something carved out of marble, a figure destined to be admired by multitudes. As I looked at him, a pair of luminous, glowing eyes opened in the darkness of his collar.
"Hello." I whispered, surprised at how raspy my voice was. Why on earth was I in this state?
Like a shadow, Bono scampered across Roan's sleeping form before leaping onto the bed. His tiny paws tapped lightly across the mattress as he made his way over to me; he curled up in my waiting arms, looking up at me expectantly.
"What?" I asked him lightly, frowning back at him as my palm smoothed over the soft fur of his back. He simply looked at me, the moonlight glimmering off his giant eyes.
I stared back at him broodingly. The events of the afternoon were coming back to me, slowly but surely. I thought of the emotional conversation I'd had with Roan up in the trees, of how soft his hand was my cheek. I thought of the fiery figure, floating in the air and laughing like a madman as the flames swallowed my uncle whole.
I remembered the great ribbons of water whipping him to the ground.
How had I done that? My hand paused on Bono's back, his body warm against my hand. Unless another water waif had been skulking in the trees, I'd somehow managed to suck the water from around me and strike the madman down. There was no way I could have known how to do that; the knowledge of what I am was only days fresh, and there weren't any waifs around who could teach me how to ply the water to my will. But somehow I had done it. My rage had pulled the moisture from the trees and the grass, had broken the water mains and pulled the water through the air. I was mystified as to how it had happened, but in addition to my confusion, I was terrified.
Just what exactly was I capable of doing?
I had been so ready to kill the strange man. I had never set eyes on him in my life, but I was ready to fill his body up with water, to squeeze all the air out of him till his heart stopped beating. The power that had ripped water through the air had throbbed in my veins and made my brain heady and delirious - the feeling was overwhelming and addicting. When the man had powered away, flames roaring from his feet, I was both relieved and disappointed. Relieved that I hadn't killed him, and at the same time, disappointed that I hadn't.
My mind drifted back to the story of the brothers Aeon and Theon. Was it the same power that I'd felt that had made them harvest lands for themselves? Was it that greed for that raw, vibrant feeling that made them feel invincible?
The moon glinted off the ring that still sat curled around my finger. It had dulled back to its normal composition above the water, but I could still remember how it shimmered down in the ocean. It was created as a stark reminder - do not let power rule you. Humility had ruled the waifs the last several centuries they had lived, and it was now, as one of the few - or two - left alive, that I doubted that humility could reign in what I had felt out on the lawn.
Bono nudged his head on my stomach, his eyes still on my face. As I looked back at him, I made my mind wander to something more immediately important: the identity of the fiery man.
He was still after me, and with the moonlight stealing undisturbed into the blue room, I suddenly felt horribly exposed.
Bono squeaked lightly as I put him carefully on my shoulder. "Shh." I told him quietly as I carefully climbed out of the bed; the floor was cool on my bare feet. "Let's let Roan sleep."
I paused on the edge of the bed, and we both looked at the fire waif's sleeping form. He gave no indication of waking soon; his eyes still flickered under his alabaster lids at some vivid dream. I hoped quietly it wasn't a bad one.
Like the last time I'd wandered the house at night, it was silent and unmoving. My feet padded gently on the cool floors, and Bono held on to my shoulder as I made my way through the stillness. On the main floor, I blinked in surprise at the figure sitting against the cellar door.
Eisla was beautiful in the moonlight, her pale face relaxed and soft. Her eyes were closed, but her hand rested lightly on the sword laid across her lap. The pale light made her cornsilk hair look white, and it glinted off the piercings that adorned her ears.
As I hesitated, unsure of how I was going to get past her, her eyes suddenly flew open. I jumped in surprise, making Bono squeak, and she grinned dryly at me. I realized a second too late that she hadn't been sleeping, as I'd assumed.
"Whatever sad excuse you have for being down here," She drawled, her silken voice drifting through the night air like a feather, "Please spare me. I camped out here since I knew you'd be coming for him."
"You knew?" I tilted my chin up, telling myself I looked brave when I probably looked more indignant. "You barely know me."
"But I know your uncle." Eisla replied. Her eyes looked silver as she peered up at me. "And if you're anything like him, you'd sneak down here in the dead of night to get a crack at the assassin yourself."
I struggled to form a reply. After a moment, I gave up with a sigh.
The elf smiled at me, a vague smile triumph on her face, and patted the seat next to her. "Grab a seat, Emery." She told me. "Might as well keep each other company if we're both not sleeping anytime soon."
I listened obediently, sinking down beside her and leaning my head against the cool wood of the door. Bono scampered down from my shoulder and curled up on my lap, his huge eyes looking at Eisla curiously. We were both quiet for several moment, the silence between us not quite comfortable, but not awkward either. It was clear from the elf's stance that she wasn't letting me by anytime soon.
"I have an excuse to be up." I said finally, looking at Eisla from the corner of my eye. "But what about you? Do you also have fiery demons trying to take your life?"
Eisla yawned, looking straight ahead and avoiding my gaze. "Everyone has demons that keep them up sometimes; yours is just annoyingly aggressive and very present."
I stared at her. "What demons do you have?"
She looked at me sharply, and I balked.
"Forgive me, I don't have the right to ask - "
"It's okay." Eisla narrowed her eyes slightly though as she searched my face. Whatever she saw there made her relax after a second. "I only have one demon."
"Is he as crazy as mine?"
"He's dead." She said shortly, and I blinked in surprise.
"How..."
"How can a dead man keep me up at night?" Eisla finished for me, raising a pale eyebrow. "He changed my life, that's how."
"What do you mean?"
Eisla was silent, contemplating her next few words. "It's not very complicated, I suppose. What has your uncle told you about me?"
"Nothing. We barely spoke since I've come back here." And now he was lying in a bed upstairs, slowly and painstakingly recovering from the burns that covered his body. I shuddered lightly, my chest hurting at the memory of the fire swallowing him up - thank goodness he was alive.
Eisla pretended she didn't notice my discomfort. "He was my defender when I killed my fiance."
I looked at her in shock. My mouth was open in a little 'o', but I couldn't find a suitable reply to her. Eisla smiled dryly at me, her light eyes missing none of my reaction.
"Oh, no need to fear me." She said mockingly. "It was all in self-defense. Eivert was the son of a good family in my dren, and I was the daughter of another good family. Our engagement was just good business; no one knew what a filthy piece of scum he really was." Her voice had soured as she'd spoken, her lips twisted bitterly.
"What did he do?" I asked fearfully.
"Oh, nothing." Eisla waved a slender hand dismissively. "He didn't get to, at least. My lovely fiance had no idea that while other ladies of the court were wandering around tittering and batting their eyelashes at potential suitors, I was learning to fight. I, the daughter of two prestigious Council of Ten leaders, was hoping beyond hope that no one would want me and that my parents would give me their blessing to become a soldier. I would have been in the army if I hadn't had the bad luck of being born to them." She frowned at a forgotten memory before shaking herself out of it. "Anyways, by the time our marriage was arranged, I was the best fighter in my class. Hand to hand, knifework, archery, swordplay - you name it, I was the best. My mother was less than pleased with what she called my 'brutish hobbies' and conveniently forgot to tell my betrothed about it."
Eisla paused, and I struggled to conjure an image of her; the daughter of a royal family, in lovely faerie silk dresses. When I couldn't do it, I thought of her in her fighting classes, mastering everything ahead of everyone else. That mental image was far easier than the first.
"Anyways." Eisla continued softly. "A couple weeks after our engagement, I awoke in the small hours of the morning to find a figure coming through my window. I didn't recognize him in the dark, but I knew what he intended to do. I lay in my bed, watching him prowl forward like the dirty animal he was, undoing the clasp of his belt as he went. He reached for me and..." She trailed off.
The silence felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Eisla cleared her throat delicately. "In the morning, when my parents and the rest of the dren discovered Eivert was dead, chaos broke out. No one wanted to hear what happened from me - they were crying out for justice for the fiend, my parents were yelling that I was no longer their daughter - "
"Wait, what?" I interrupted in bewildered horror. "They disowned you? Even though he was going to rape you?"
The elf looked back at me, her face still wry, but I thought her eyes looked a little sad." Darling, don't you get it? It doesn't matter what Eivert could have done to me - they were on the Council of Ten. And such prestigious members of society can't associate themselves with a murderous daughter."
I was frozen in shock, my mind flitting to thoughts of my own parents. The realization quickly dawned on me that I had lived a sheltered, comfortable life under my parents' wing. I'd taken their love for granted, when at the same time, horrible people were tossing their daughters out for defending themselves. "That's horrible." I whispered.
"Tell me about it." Eisla sighed lightly. "The chaos lasted for a day or so. Eventually, the council decided that since I was no longer related to my parents, I was also no longer related to the dren. I was passed on to Feloix Felaii, like I was just a low level criminal they didn't want to deal with."
"And that's how you met Felix." I clarified.
"Yes. I thank heavens everyday that he was assigned to me; not only did he clear me of any wrongdoing in court, he got me a spot in the elvish army heading to Tsingy de Bemahara to fight the faeries. Can you believe it?" Eisla laughed, but it was a hard sound. "I finally got to live my dream of being a soldier, and all I had to do was kill a man."
"But your parents took you back, right?" I was surprised at the desperate note in my voice, but I pushed forward anyways. "Once you were declared exempt of wrongdoing, they said sorry, right?"
Eisla stared at me, her face pitiful. "No." She told me gently. "The last time I saw them was when I shipped away in chains. I haven't spoken to my parents since then."
I looked away from her abruptly, aware that my eyes were moist with tears. Why was this bothering me so much? It was clear Eisla was happier now, away from her horrid parents and what happened to her in their dren - she now fought for a living, which must be a dream come true. So why was I filled with so much sorrow at the fact that her parents had cut ties with her so coldly and efficiently?
I almost jumped out of my skin when Eisla's hand touched my arm. "Don't feel sorry for me." She told me gently. "I'm not sorry, so I don't want your pity. If you feel anything, simply feel grateful that you had the parents you had. They sound like they were lovely."
I dragged a hand roughly over my eyes, wiping the moisture away. "I am grateful... I just wish I showed it to them, you know? I didn't know parents like yours existed, so I thought the love they had for me was the norm. And now that they're gone, I can never make it clear to them just how blessed I feel right now."
Eisla's hand squeezed my forearm, and her smile was beautiful in the moonlight. "I'm absolutely sure they know it, Emery. Even now, if there's a heaven, they can feel your love. You have to honour that."
I nodded, gritting my teeth against the tears. Her hand was nice on my skin, and although it was shocking receiving comfort from the fierce elf, it wasn't unwelcome. I looked her in the eye, taking a deep breath.
"Let me honour them, Eisla."
She frowned in confusion. "Emery - "
"Let me go down there." I told her firmly. "I'll never get answers if I'm running scared my whole life. My parents will have died for nothing if you don't let me talk to him."
Eisla shook her head slowly, obviously bewildered at the direction our conversation had gone. "That's the thing, Emery, he won't speak. Your uncle just about murdered the guy yesterday, and he didn't make a sound the whole time. Stone Assassins are trained to take their jobs to the grave, if they must."
"Well, I've got to try at least." I insisted. "I'll never know if I don't do that at least. If I go down there and he stays quiet, then I'll give up on him. But only then."
"Emery." Eisla started, but she hesitated. Her light eyes were conflicted.
"Please." I said simply.
She stared at me, still frowning, but after a moment she sighed and her face relaxed. "Alright. But if your uncle gets angry, you take all the responsibility, understood?"
"Yes!" I leapt to my feet, beaming down at her and ignoring Bono's annoyed squeaks as he was tossed onto the floor.
Eisla climbed to her feet, grumbling something that sounded like "I'm getting soft" to herself as she did so. "I'm going with you though." She said fiercely, looking at me sternly.
"Alright." I nodded, and she looked even more confused, as if she was counting on me being difficult.
Shaking her head after a moment, Eisla turned and opened the door, saying nothing as she lead the way down. I followed her closely, my heart leaping up into my throat with every step I took.
They had left the light on when everyone left him down here, so the Stone Assassin was fully illuminated when we reached the bottom of the stairs. His head was bowed, his eyes closed, and his body was completely still as he hung with his limbs stretched wide. The kalleb stalks tied to his hands looked wilted, but clearly their anti-magic powers were still working.
Eisla touched my shoulder. "I'll stay back." She told me, her voice a firm whisper. A warning was veiled lightly in her reassurance - don't try anything stupid; I'm close enough to stop you.
I nodded, although she had nothing to worry about. I wanted nothing from the man except what he knew; even if I wanted to, I didn't know how to activate my powers again. The thought of the heady, raw power that had coursed me earlier made my head throb, and I forced the memory away.
I looked back to see that the assassin was watching us now. His cold grey eyes were quick and alert; it was clear he had never been sleeping. I stepped forward cautiously, aware that Bono was trembling on my shoulder. I thought he was afraid, but when I stopped right in front of the assassin, the squeak that he emitted was furious.
I hesitated, unsure of what to say, the assassin watched me silently. I didn't really have a game plan. All I knew was that I was tired of being afraid - I wanted to face the fiery man squarely, and end things once and for all. I wasn't just doing it for my parents - I was doing it for me now, and the lost race I belonged to that had been wiped out all those centuries earlier.
As I worried over what to say, I saw what I had failed to notice yesterday. Up close, the assassin's skin was calloused and angry. Greyish rashes caked the skin of his head, and all the way down his chest. I reached forward without thinking, horrified, and the assassin twitched away from my touch. His grey eyes questioned me baldly, and my hand hung in the air.
"What did my uncle do to you?" I whispered.
He was silent, his eyes suddenly wry as they met mine.
My hand dropped. Your uncle just about murdered the guy yesterday.
"I'm so sorry." I told him, the words bursting from my lips without me thinking. Eisla inhaled in shock behind me, and the assassin blinked in confusion, as if he'd never heard the words before. Even I was surprised. The man had spent the last several days trying to kill me, and I was apologizing. It made no sense, but I suddenly knew that the sentiment was sincere.
I hesitated, and then stepped forward again. I was now almost nose to nose with the assassin, and Eisla made a tense noise in warning behind me. I ignored her. Up close, his grey eyes were large and beautiful, and I could see my reflection warped in them.
"I don't understand why you do it." I whispered. He blinked as my breath whooshed gently over his ravaged skin. "Why would you let something like this happen to you for someone who's just using you?"
He was completely still; the only thing that gave away that he wasn't carved from stone was the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His grey eyes were suddenly unreadable.
I clenched and unclenched my teeth. I was suddenly so full of sorrow for the silent man in front of me. I wondered what his whole life had been like; murdering for hire and wandering alone. I struggled to hold on to my feelings of anger and hurt - he killed my parents, and was now trying to kill me. But struggle as I might, all I saw in front of me was a puppet, a pale man being dragged around the world by invisible strings.
"I don't know very much about you." I said, remembering what King Kavait had told me in passing as we headed back from the Hall of Memories. "All I know is that your kind were abandoned as children, and raised into this life. Is that true for you?"
He simple stared at me with his icy eyes.
"Well, if it is, I don't think you should be governed by that. Why should this be the only way of life for you? Don't you want to live normally, among other people? Aren't you tired of being paid to do such horrible things?"
His face didn't change, but his responding exhale had a slight edge. Hesitating now only a second, I reached up and touched his cheek.
"Emery!" Eisla hissed sharply, and I heard her step forward in alarm.
But she was cautious for nothing. The assassin hadn't reacted at all to my touch. He was as still as ever; the only indication he could feel my hand cautiously cupping his cheek was his eyes. They had widened in shock and confusion - had he ever felt another person's touch, one that wasn't aggressive or hate filled?
"You don't need to do this." I told him, my voice quiet and clear as I stared him right in the eye. "Whatever's he's paying you... It isn't worth anything in the end. You'll keep killing and hurting and inflicting destruction wherever you go, and all the money in the world can stop that. The only person who can do it is you - you can choose something different. You can choose a different life and live outside what you've been tricked into thinking is the only way. I can't believe you really want this, anyways. No one possibly can."
The silence was so heavy, it hurt. He stared at me for several more moments, a flurry of emotions storming through the grey of his eyes too quickly for me to decipher, before his eyes fluttered closed. I might have imagined it, but I thought I felt him lean into my touch a tiny bit. It would have been a millimeter of movement, and I wasn't convinced it was real.
"I can't."
I inhaled sharply at the whispered words. His voice was so clear and gentle, like a brook in the summer. The sound of it was the last thing I had expected to come from him.
"You can." I whispered fiercely, making his eyes fly back open. "You can, if you let yourself. And the first step is admitting that it's possible."
The assassin sighed, his breath cool on my face. We were close enough to kiss, and his face suddenly looked weary and relaxed at the same time. His grey eyes were still stormy, but the longer they stared into mine, the calmer they became.
The silence was so long that I began to wonder what would happen next. Had my impassioned words had any effect on him? What was I really expecting, anyways?
Suddenly, the assassin tilted his head forward until the calloused skin of his forehead gently touched mine.
I gasped as the images filled my head like a flood.
They were all vibrant and pulsating, exploding in my consciousness like fireworks and moving too fast for me to interpret properly. I caught rainy expanse of jungle, a great grey expanse of sky, a woman's scream ripping through the air, the coloured lights of Feloix Felaii, the smell of fresh bread, and many others that were too quick to catch. The assassin seemed to realize that he was going too fast - the images slowed down considerably, and it almost felt like he was sifting through them now, selecting which ones to show.
The first was of the same rainy jungle I had first caught, the air heady and thick with smells and heat I'd never known before. It was getting dark, weak light filtering through jade branches and lighting the jungle floor in jumbled patches. A tall, beautiful faerie was flying away, pale green wings whirring silently as they carried her away. Her hair was long and blonde, golden and bright in the jungle gloom, and then it was gone, whipping around an expanse of trees before disappearing.
The memory melted away, shifting into a new one. My surroundings were opulent to the point of frivolous; richly coloured tapestries adorned the walls, and the furniture was golden and ancient looking. The floor was polished wood so clean it was like a dark brown mirror. Everything was painfully neat, in exactly the right place, and it was so oppressively warm that I gasped for air desperately. A roaring fireplace was the source of the heat, but it was unlike any hearth I'd seen before. The opening in the tapestry covered wall yawned open like a greedy mouth, and the flames that burned in its maw burned with a vengeance, crackling and roaring menacingly.
A figure stood before it, holding his hands out towards it calmly, though how he still felt cold in the cloying heat was a mystery to me. I recognized him immediately - the red of his robes sluiced off his slender body like a cascade of blood, and white blonde hair, cleaner and softer looking than the time I'd seen him, feathered across his shoulders. He turned to look at me with golden eyes that were so similar to Roan's but at the same time so different.
"Do you understand what I've asked?" His voice was different, more melodic and soothing since he wasn't screaming in manic rage. "If you do this, you will never look for work again your whole life."
My surroundings melted again, this time dragging me into an alleyway. I couldn't tell where - this street was starkly different to the streets of Feloix Felaii I had grown up in. It was dark and musty, the concrete below my feet stained with decades of abuse. Trash swirled through the alley, picked up by a bitter wind, and ruffled around the feet of a figure walking away from me. He was tall, his blonde hair shining dully in the weak orange light coming from a single lamp at the far entrance of the alley. He was hunched against the wind, but his back stiffened as if he'd sensed my presence.
He whipped around to look at me, and I saw that the man looked strikingly like Roan, except with a fuller face and hints of stubble on his strong jaw. His golden eyes were bright and suspicious as they looked back at me.
"Got a problem, man?" He asked roughly, turning up the collar of his jacket against the cold. He stared at me for another moment before his eyes widened in alarmed understanding.
"Shit!" He yelled, throwing himself to the side just in time. The dirty floor of the alleyway exploded with a crackling boom, and the man climbed quickly to his feet, already speeding away as a string of curses flew through his lips.
The alleyway melted away from me, and suddenly I was in complete darkness. There was absolutely no indication of where I was; not a single light, no smell, no sound. The sensory deprivation had me panicked in seconds, and I opened mouth to cry out.
"Stone one."
It was the same voice, the melodic and smooth voice of the fiery man. The darkness was split open by a single flame; it danced in his palm lithely. It threw threatening shadows on his face, making him seem older and more ominous. The gold in his eyes smoldered like ashes. His other hand rose up from the gloom, holding out a piece of paper like it was an offering.
"Your next assignment."
A black, gauze wrapped hand reached out to take the paper. I saw in the light of the flame that the paper was in fact a photograph, and my heart stumbled in recognition. It was a picture of me, taken from several yards away as I strolled the streets of Feloix Felaii. My face was expressionless, my eyes faraway as my mind wandered.
My gaze looked up again at the fiery man. He was still expressionless, the shadows jumping over his porcelain skin.
"She's the last one." He said smoothly.
My vision tilted slightly, as if I was cocking my head. The fiery man smiled in response, but I internally recoiled from it. There was no mirth in the action that pulled his lips over his teeth - it was inhuman and horrible, something that didn't belong on a living being.
"I know I've said that before, but this time I'm absolutely sure." His voice slithered through the darkness like a viper. "After this one, I'll be the last one left."
Abruptly, the flame went out, returning me to the suffocating darkness.
"Eleazar Greyfire, the last of the waifs." He crooned happily, his voice fading into the black like a ghost.
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