Dracden was a wretched, miserable spit of land. Insalubrious marshes and swamps flooded the terrain, leaving little to no color or vibrancy anywhere. It was a barren, lifeless wasteland, and the mere act of passing through was enough to suck the energy and excitement out of any traveler.
The quartet remained grimly silent as they trudged past the gray and dismal marshes. The cold, damp wind whistled through the dead tree branches, stuck to their skin, chilled them to the bone. The sky above them was no longer a soft blue, but a melancholic slate, painted with dark clouds and sickly pale sunlight. It was nothing like the bright, vibrant, joyous land of Asturias behind them. It was almost as if they had stepped into an entirely different universe, one where the birds didn't sing and the air didn't smell of pine and vivacious nature. It was completely desolate, completely and utterly cold and soulless.
The prince despised every waking moment of it.
By the time the spiritless sun dipped beneath the swampy horizon, and the inky black of night began to creep into the sky above, the quartet had barely made any progress. They'd ambled down the spongy path for hours on end, staring at nothing other than the same barren wasteland ahead of them, and still, they felt as if they hadn't moved an inch. The same dead trees lined their path. The same ghastly and vile marshes surrounded them on every side. The same frogs croaked and moaned in the distance, and the same black birds circled overhead like a pack of hungry vultures. The dismal and unappealing atmosphere of Dracden was all the same, and it only seemed to stretch on forever.
They knew they couldn't make any more fruitless progress in the dark. They could hardly see where they were walking during the day, and now, as twilight bled into the sky and faint stars shined through the thick clouds, they knew they needed to stop. Sleeping along the mushy path was far from ideal, let alone safe, so Spencer found a small outcrop near an old cave for them to set up camp.
Although, sleeping next to a pile of rocks didn't make the air around them any less chilling or eerie.
Frogs murmured into the darkening night as the quartet huddled around their pitiful fire, desperately trying to warm themselves up from the dampness of the marsh around them. The air reeked of wet mud and dank swamp creatures, and it stung their lungs and made nausea swirl in the pits of their stomachs. It truly was a sickening and atrocious place to spend the night, but much to their dismay, they didn't have any other option.
All they could do was hope and pray that no vile marshland animals invaded their paltry camp while they slept.
The cold night dragged on at the pace of a snail. Darkness swallowed them whole, closed in around the small outcrop surrounding them. Not even the weak flickers of flame from their fire could combat the darkness of the night, and it made their shadows dance along the rocks like twisted monsters. It was haunting, completely and utterly unnerving, and the eerie sounds of the marshlands around them only made matters worse.
Ryan found himself unable to sleep, or even close his eyes. Incessant thoughts flooded through his racing mind, bleeding him dry of any exhaustion he had in his body. He couldn't stop thinking about where he was, about everything that had happened over the last few days. He still struggled to wrap his brain around it all. He'd up and left his home in a moment's notice to accompany the prince on a perilous journey, and now here he was, lying near an outcrop in the middle of a desolate marsh. He was starting to wonder if it was all merely a bad nightmare, a faux reverie caused by his lackluster job at the shop.
But alas, he knew the uncertain reality he resided in was true when the fire beside him hissed and groaned, its embers slowly sizzling out into hot ashes. He really was in the grim province of Dracden, wasting the troubling night away as he stared at the dying embers and longed for the comfort of his own home. As much as he wanted to help the prince in his hour of need, he couldn't help but wish he had never packed his bags and left with the royal trio.
He missed Asturias more than words could describe.
With a miserable sigh, Ryan sat up and grabbed a nearby stick, poking at the crackling embers to keep them ablaze. The air around him was cold, chilling him to the very core, and not even the weak flames that licked at the twigs could warm him up. His body shuddered, goosebumps prickling his skin. Dracden was absolutely frigid in the dark, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up underneath a fur blanket and fill his stomach with hot soup.
All of a sudden, the prince bolted upright with a disgruntled huff, his dark eyes narrowed as he turned to face the dwindling fire. Shadows danced across his face, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed. He looked anything but satisfied.
"Can't sleep?" Ryan asked softly, still jabbing at the sizzling embers in the pit. His voice sounded foreign among the calls of the marshlands around them.
In an instant, the prince scoffed, barely even sparing Ryan a glance as he attempted to warm his hands over the weak embers. "Of course not," he remarked. "How could I possibly sleep in a place as wretched as this? It's ghastly."
No matter how many times Ryan witnessed the prince's sharp attitude, he still found it appalling that anyone could ever act that way. It baffled him. "It's not ideal, yes," he murmured, watching as the prince stared at the fire in discontent. Why did he always seem so displeased with everything?
A heavy silence fell over the two of them, enveloping them in the distant sounds of the vile swamp creatures. The embers of the fire crackled, sending wisps of sparks up into the dark air. Behind them, both Spencer and Jon were sprawled out along the outcrop, their eyes shut and their breathing steady. It was impossible to tell if they were actually asleep or not, but judging by their peaceful silence, Ryan could only imagine that they were having wonderful dreams of places far away from the wretched land of Dracden.
His attention returned to the prince when he suddenly huffed out an irate sigh, his chocolate eyes passing over the pile of weapons near the firepit. His strong jaw was clenched, but not once did he initiate a cordial conversation with the blacksmith's son.
Ryan was growing tired of his impudent behavior, so he started a conversation himself, determined to steer the prince's egotistical manners in the right direction. "Do you know how to fight?" he asked. "With a sword or a bow, I mean."
Frogs moaned and croaked in the distance as Brendon raised an eyebrow, inquisitiveness shining in his gaze. "A rather preposterous assumption, my dear village boy," he said with an amused smirk. "What exactly do you take me for? Commonfolk?"
It took every bit of strength Ryan had left in him to bite back a frustrated sigh. "No," he replied, "but I believe it would be in your best interest to learn how. Nicole warned me of the dangers ahead, and we must be prepared for the worst."
Slowly but surely, the prince's humored smirk curled his lips into a sly grin, twinkling in his dark eyes and lighting up his shadowed face. "Me? Wielding a sword? Shooting a bow?" He chuckled. "I'm not so sure, my dear village boy. I don't believe I'm the fighting type."
"I can teach you."
Before Brendon had a chance to let out a baffled laugh, Ryan elaborated.
"I mean, I'm not the best at fighting," he explained, "but I do know a few tips and tricks that you could benefit from. I crafted swords and bows for everyone for a reason."
"And indeed, they are gorgeous blades," the prince agreed with a nod of his head, shadows dancing across his impish face. "We shall see, my dear village boy. If the road truly is as dangerous as the innkeeper said, then we can discuss learning how to duel."
The dying embers in front of them hissed and sparked, nearly all of its light and heat dwindling to darkness. A cold breeze swept through their camp, and it threatened to take their diminishing warmth with it.
Ryan couldn't stop himself from shivering as he spared a fleeting glance at the prince shrouded in shadows, a newfound despondency clutching at his heart. He was never able to win in a conversation with the prince, and despite his determination to alter his character, he still couldn't deny how dejected he felt. All he wanted to do was help, but instead, all he received was more and more melancholic regret.
"I was hoping Jon could teach me some magic, too," he murmured, hugging his knees close to his chest as the fire died out with one final hiss. "I could teach you three how to fight, and he could teach me some spells."
Brendon scoffed, his body trembling and his teeth chattering. "That fool wouldn't know proper magic if it hit him upside the head," he spat, his tone laced with venom. Even in the frigid darkness, Ryan could picture his revolted face perfectly. "If you actually want to learn spells, you'd be better off--"
The fire before them suddenly burst back to life with an igneous blast, lighting up the outcrop with a brilliant glow. Heat washed over them, warmed their chilled skin like a ray of balmy sunshine. It was startling, to say the least, but Ryan relished in the comforting warmth the newfound blaze brought.
"You seemed a little cold, Your Highness," Jon remarked with a clever smirk, tiny flames licking at his fingertips; they extinguished into the darkness within a moment's notice. "Now, did I hear someone who's interested in learning magic?"
It was nearly impossible for Ryan to bite back a smile when he saw the prince's bewildered and exasperated expression. He never enjoyed doing things out of spite--it wasn't in his character--but this time, it just felt appropriate.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," he said with a grin, glancing up to meet Jon's avid gaze. "I would love to learn a few spells."
"Excellent." The fire's luminous glow frolicked in Jon's dark eyes, illuminated his eager face as he sat down next to Ryan, ignoring the frustrated prince completely. "Lucky for you, I just so happened to bring along a few of my favorite spellbooks. I had a hunch that something like this might come up."
"But the village boy isn't a practiced mage," Brendon interrupted, his brows furrowed and his tone laced with annoyance. "It's impossible for an ordinary person to pick up magic, just like that."
"I never said it would be easy for him, Your Highness," Jon retaliated, but he remained stoically calm, his voice droning on without ever changing pitch. "That's why there's such a thing called practice. You don't think I managed to relight your dying fire without hours of practice beforehand, do you?"
The prince faltered over his words, eyes gleaming with indignation. He couldn't formulate a coherent response, no matter how hard he tried. Instead, to avoid more and more uncontrollable irritation, he simply got up and retreated to another part of the outcrop in hopes to catch a few winks before sunrise.
"Fine," he hissed as he stalked away, "but leave me out of your pompous magic training. I do not need another haughty mage on this aggravating journey."
"Suit yourself, Your Highness," Jon hollered after him, his face alight with a sly smile. "And you can call him Ryan, by the way! He has a name, too!"
It wasn't surprising when the two of them didn't receive a response.
The powerful fire raged in its pit before them as Jon returned his attention to Ryan, gaze glimmering with fervent pride. "Don't mind him," he told the blacksmith's son. "He gets cranky when he's tired. You won't have a problem with learning a few little spells."
A smile of gratitude adorned Ryan's face, lifting his hopes and draining away the doubt that once clouded his mind. Jon was doing so much for him, despite still barely knowing him at all. He didn't know how to thank the mage for his generosity.
Then, within a moment's notice, Jon's lively expression dimmed as a concentrated glint passed over his gaze. He narrowed his eyes, seeming to be examining Ryan like a lab experiment, and that only made the latter all the more uncomfortable.
"You're definitely not a fighting magic type of person," Jon remarked, more to himself than anything as he stared into the blacksmith's concerned eyes. "Maybe illusion or healing would fit you. Or both, if you want to get fancy."
"I don't know what any of that means," Ryan said.
"Oh, right." Jon chuckled, a roguish smirk lighting up his face as he clasped Ryan's shoulder, giving him a hefty shake. "You'll know in due time, my friend. I'll gather a few of my books, and we can start learning tomorrow. Right now, though, I think it'd be best for you to get some sleep. You can't learn magic with an exhausted mind. Trust me, I've tried, and it did not end well."
Ryan wasn't sure if he should laugh, ask what happened out of burning curiosity, or just let it go for the time being.
He ended up keeping his mouth shut, but still, a small part of him yearned to know the story. He figured he would find out soon enough, especially if he attempted to learn magic with a mind clouded with exhaustion and fatigue. He'd prefer to keep his training as accident-free as possible.
So as Jon left him by the fire to return to his spot on the outcrop, Ryan stoked the blazing flames one last time before lying down on the hard rocks. His mind was alive with thousands upon thousands of racing thoughts, the pungent odor of the marshlands around him keeping him wide awake, but he knew he needed the rest. If he wanted to learn magic as he so desperately desired, he needed all the sleep he could manage.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried his hardest to will himself to slumber.
~~~~~
SMALL DISCLAIMER: If any of y'all are also currently reading The Ghost of Him, you might know what's coming. This chapter took me like 3-4 weeks to write due to lack of inspiration and busy schedules, and I'm not done with chapter 11 yet either. If next Sunday comes and there isn't an update for this, please just forgive me and wait for the following Sunday. I've been in some pretty crappy moods because of all the stuff that's going on at school, and writing just hasn't been as fun as it used to be. I apologize, but that's just how it's gotta be right now :/
Anyway, today's question! What are some of your favorite colors? Simple, I know, but I'm still curious
Other than black, I really like royal blue, turquoise, deep purples, wine/maroon, and deep greens :)
Love y'all! Remember to vote/comment/share with your pals! <3