Crown of ash and light, p.28
Crown of Ash and Light, page 28
“No, we don’t,” Dravon said before I could respond. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made Elias hesitate. Dravon didn’t even glance at him, his gaze locked on the forest ahead. His posture was rigid, his knuckles white on the reins. “We’re not stopping.”
Elias stared at him, disbelief plain on his face. “What do you mean, we’re not stopping? It’s a village, Dravon. There’s food. Shelter. Supplies. The horses need a break, and so do we.”
Stravos snorted, his tone dry and humorless. “We’ve made it this far without your ‘real break.’ We’ll survive.”
Elias threw his hands up in frustration, his voice rising. “Why are you all acting like this? It’s just a village!”
“No,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not.”
My words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Elias looked at me, then at Dravon, then at Therynna, searching our faces for answers. He wouldn’t find them. How could we explain it to him? How could we make him understand what it was like to come back to the place where everything began and everything fell apart?
I could still see it as clearly as if it were yesterday.
The dark alley, the damp, rotting smell of garbage, the distant chatter of people who didn’t care that we were dying. Dravon sat with his back against the wall, his arms wrapped around me like a shield. He was so thin, his ribs pressing against me as I huddled in his lap. I was feverish, too weak to move, my breath coming in shallow gasps. Dravon's hands trembled as he stroked my hair, whispering words of comfort that even he didn’t believe.
“Just hold on, Azura,” he murmured, his voice raw and cracked from lack of water. “I’ll find something. I promise.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe we’d make it out of that alley, that there was something better waiting for us. But I was too tired. Too cold. I thought that was where we would die—together, in the shadows, forgotten by a world that didn’t care.
And then she came.
I didn’t remember much about that moment. I was too far gone. But I remembered her voice—steady, calm, and so full of warmth that it cut through the haze of my fever. I remembered the feel of her arms as she lifted me, the faint scent of lavender on her clothes. And I remembered the way Dravon fought her, weak as he was, his fists flying in a desperate attempt to protect me.
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t back down. She just knelt in front of him, meeting his wild gaze with an unshakable calm. “You’re safe now,” she told him, her voice firm but gentle. “I’m taking you both with me. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”
Dravon had stared at her, his chest heaving, his fists clenched, but she didn’t waver. And slowly, something in him cracked. His arms tightened around me, his face crumpling as he let out a choked sob.
She gave us everything that day. Life, warmth, hope. A home.
The Dark Forest had been her kingdom. She knew its secret—every path, every hidden spring, every shadowed glade. She taught us how to live within it, how to read its signs and respect its magic. The wolves that roamed its depths had been her allies, their howls a familiar song in the night. She spoke to them like old friends, and they obeyed her without question. Through her, they became our guardians, too.
But now, the forest wasn’t a sanctuary. It was a tomb. Without her, the trees felt like strangers, the shadows hostile. The wolves’ howls, once comforting, now felt like accusations, their glowing eyes watching us from the darkness as if waiting for us to explain why we had let her go.
Elias’s voice pulled me back to the present. “I don’t get it,” he said, his frustration bleeding through. “Why won’t you just stop? What’s wrong with the village? What’s wrong with the forest?”
Dravon's voice was sharp and final. “We don’t need the village. End of discussion.”
Elias stared at him, then at me, his confusion plain. “Azura?” he asked, his tone almost pleading. “Why?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The village wasn’t just a place to us. It was the last stop before we lost everything. The last place we passed through before her warmth, her voice, and her presence disappeared from the world forever. And the forest... the forest was where she had fought to give us life, and where we had to keep living without her.
As we passed the village, the forest seemed to rise to meet us, its shadows stretching long and deep across the ground. The air grew cooler, and the faint scent of pine and damp earth wrapped around me like a shroud. Then came the sound—a low, mournful howl that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
The wolves.
“They’re watching us,” Stravos muttered, his voice low.
“I know,” Dravon said tightly, his jaw clenched. “Keep moving.”
Therynna’s horse shifted uneasily beneath her, its ears flicking back and forth. “They’re waiting,” she murmured, her voice almost too soft to hear. “For us.”
“For what?” Elias asked, his voice trembling slightly.
I didn’t answer. None of us did. The wolves weren’t waiting to attack. They were waiting to see if we still belonged. When we finally reached a clearing, far enough from the village to avoid notice, we dismounted in silence. There was tension in the air as the weight of the past pressed down on all of us. As the last light of day faded, the wolves’ howls rose again, haunting and unrelenting as the waning moon began to rise. They echoed through the trees, a reminder of the life we had built here. Of the life she had given us. The shadows of the Dark Forest stretched out before us like a silent warning. Even the horses were uneasy, their ears flicking back and forth, their movements restless despite their exhaustion.
Once Dravon dismounted, his movements were quick and sharp as his focus was already on unfastening his saddle. He didn’t say a word, his jaw set and his eyes fixed ahead as though the forest might leap out at us. Therynna followed, her hands steady as she led her horse to a patch of grass, checking its legs with practiced efficiency. Stravos leaned his scythe against a nearby tree, muttering something under his breath as he began unpacking his gear.
Elias lingered near his horse, his eyes darting between us and the trees. He shifted his weight uneasily, the nervous energy rolling off him in waves. “This is it, then?” he asked, his voice tight. “The Dark Forest?”
“No, it’s a lovely picnic spot,” Stravos muttered sarcastically, not looking up.
Elias frowned, his tension morphing into frustration. “I’m serious. Are we really just going to walk into that place without a plan?”
“We’ll plan in the morning,” Dravon said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “For now, set up your tent. We leave at dawn.”
Elias didn’t move. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Yes,” Dravon said, his voice clipped. He didn’t even glance at Elias as he secured his gear and moved to inspect the horses.
Elias turned to me, his frown deepening. “Azura, come on. You can’t seriously be okay with this.”
I kept my focus on my saddle, adjusting the straps with deliberate care. “It’s not about being okay with it. It’s about doing what we have to do.”
“That’s not an answer,” he said, stepping closer. His tone softened, but his unease was clear. “This place... it’s not normal. You can feel it, can’t you?”
I glanced at him briefly, catching the way his gaze flickered to the forest. His unease was palpable, his instincts sharper than I’d expected. “We tried to warn you back at the mountain but you didn’t believe us. You insisted we come so here we are.” I said evenly, turning back to my task.
He opened his mouth to say more, but Dravon's sharp voice cut through the air. “Set up your tent, Elias. Now.”
The finality in his tone made Elias hesitate, his jaw tightening as he looked between us. He muttered something under his breath and finally turned to unpack his gear, though his movements were agitated.
The camp slowly took shape, the fire crackling in the center of the clearing as the night deepened. Dravon sat near the edge of the camp, his back straight and his eyes fixed on the treeline. Therynna moved between us, her quiet presence steady as she checked the horses and distributed supplies. Stravos sharpened his scythe and the sound of metal scraping against stone was rhythmic and grounding.
Elias sat by the fire, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looked around at each of us, his confusion plain. “I don’t get it,” he said finally, his voice breaking the silence. “You’re all acting like you know something I don’t. Like you’ve been here before.”
“No one said that,” Dravon replied, his voice flat.
Elias frowned, clearly unsatisfied. “Then why won’t you tell me what’s going on? What aren’t you saying?”
I glanced at Dravon, who gave the slightest shake of his head, a silent warning. I turned back to Elias, forcing my expression to stay neutral. “There’s nothing to say,” I lied. “It’s just a forest.”
Elias looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine as if he could pull the truth out of me by sheer force of will. Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine,” he muttered. “Keep your secrets.”
The tension between us lingered as the night stretched on. The forest loomed beyond the clearing, its shadows deeper and darker than they had any right to be. The faint hum of magic hung in the air, subtle but undeniable, curling around the edges of the camp like an unseen presence.
Finally, Dravon broke the silence, his voice low and firm. “Elias.”
Elias looked up, startled. “Yeah?”
“When we enter the forest tomorrow, you stay close —no wandering off. No heroics. You do exactly what we say when we say it.”
Elias frowned. “I wasn’t planning to—”
Dravon cut him off. “If something goes wrong, you run. Head south, and don’t stop until you’re clear. Do you understand?”
Elias blinked, taken aback. “Run? From what?”
“Whatever it is,” Stravos said, his voice grim. “You won’t be able to help by staying. So don’t even try.”
Elias looked at me, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration. “Azura, you don’t really expect me just to leave you do you?”
I met his gaze, the sincerity in his voice catching me off guard. “Yes,” I said softly. “If we tell you to run, you run. That’s how you help.”
“I can’t just abandon you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I... I can’t leave you.”
My chest tightened at the vulnerability in his tone, but I forced myself to remain steady. “Elias, this isn’t about what you want. It’s about survival. If you stay, you’ll die. And we can’t afford that.”
His jaw clenched, his frustration simmering just below the surface. “I don’t like this,” he muttered. “Any of it.”
“You don’t have to,” Dravon said, his voice like steel. “You just have to listen.”
Elias looked at me again, searching my face for something—reassurance, understanding, anything to make the situation more bearable. I gave him a small, solemn nod. “Promise me,” I said quietly. “If it comes to it, promise me you’ll run.”
He hesitated, his internal conflict written all over his face. Finally, he nodded. “I promise. But only because you told me to.”
The fire crackled softly, its light casting flickering shadows across the camp. The wolves’ howls rose again in the distance, a haunting melody that sent a shivers down my spine. They were watching us. Waiting.
The first thing I noticed was the rustling. A soft, deliberate sound—the shuffle of boots against dirt, the quiet clink of metal being packed away. My siblings were moving, their presence familiar even in the haze of sleep. I blinked groggily, the cold morning air biting at my cheeks as I stirred beneath the blanket. The faint glow of dawn filtered through the trees, casting elongated, jagged shadows across the clearing.
Dravon was crouched by the embers of the fire, his hands steady as he added a handful of dry twigs to coax it back to life. The flicker of flames reflected in his sharp eyes, his expression focused, already calculating the day ahead. Therynna moved with her usual quiet precision, her hands testing the knots on the horses’ reins as she ensured the animals were securely tied. Stravos, leaning casually against a nearby tree, ran his whetstone along the edge of his scythe, the rhythmic scrape filling the stillness like a low hum.
I stretched, my joints stiff from the hard ground, and sat up, the chill sinking through my clothes. For a moment, I allowed myself to linger in the comfort of familiarity—this routine, this unity. But the moment didn’t last. My gaze drifted toward the towering line of trees that marked the Dark Forest’s edge, the shadows seeming to shift and breathe with the faint hum of magic.
The forest had been our home once. Now, it felt like a stranger.
“Finally awake?” Dravon's voice broke through my thoughts, his tone as dry as ever.
I shot him a look, pulling my blanket tighter around me. “I wasn’t exactly rushing to get up. Not like we have anything pleasant to look forward to.”
“Fair,” Stravos muttered, not looking up from his scythe. “But you’re up now, so no more excuses.”
I rolled my eyes, rubbing the sleep from them as I rose to my feet. My breath puffed white in the cool morning air, and I tucked my arms around myself for warmth. Therynna glanced at me briefly, her expression unreadable as she finished checking the horses.
“Everything’s packed and ready,” she said quietly, turning to Dravon.
“Good,” Dravon replied. He glanced toward Elias, still bundled under his blanket near the dying fire. “Wake him.”
I sighed, already moving toward Elias before Dravon could say it again. He was curled on his side, his face slack with the kind of deep sleep that only came to those who hadn’t grown used to waking in fear. His blanket was pulled up to his chin, and his chest rose and fell steadily, a stark contrast to the tension that filled the rest of us.
I crouched beside him, reaching out to shake his shoulder. “Elias,” I said softly. “Wake up. It’s time.”
He groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around him. “Five more minutes,” he muttered, his words muffled by sleep.
I couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at my lips. “We don’t have five more minutes. Come on, get up.”
His eyes cracked open, bleary and unfocused. He blinked at me a few times, confusion flickering across his face. “Azura?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
“Who else?” I teased lightly, giving his shoulder another shake. “We’ve got to move.”
He groaned again, reluctantly pushing himself upright. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, and he looked at me with a half-hearted glare. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
“I’ve been told,” I said, standing and offering him a hand. “Now hurry up. We don’t have all day.”
He took my hand, letting me pull him to his feet. He stumbled slightly, his balance unsteady, but he managed to stay upright. “Thanks,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I replied, stepping back as Dravon approached.
“Finally awake,” Dravon said, his tone more observation than a question.
“Barely,” Elias muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Do you always wake up this early?”
“We don’t have the luxury of sleeping in,” Dravon replied sharply, his gaze already shifting toward the forest. “Finish packing. We leave in ten.”
Elias grumbled under his breath but moved to gather his things. The rest of us worked in silence. Therynna finished with the horses, stepping back to double-check the knots one last time. Stravos adjusted his scythe, its edge gleaming faintly in the morning light. Dravon stood at the edge of the clearing, his posture tense as he scanned the treeline.
As the minutes ticked by, Elias joined me near the fire, his pack slung over his shoulder. He glanced at the others, then leaned closer to me, his voice low. “You’re all awfully calm for people about to walk into something like that,” he said, nodding toward the forest.
“We’ve had worse mornings,” I said lightly, though the words felt hollow even to me.
He didn’t look convinced, his brow furrowing as he studied my face. “You don’t seem worried. Should I be?”
I hesitated, the weight of his question pressing down on me. “Worrying won’t change anything,” I said finally, keeping my voice even. “Just stay close, and you’ll be fine.”
Elias frowned but nodded, his unease clear. “If you say so.”
“Time’s up,” Dravon called, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Let’s move.”
We gathered near the treeline, the shadows of the Dark Forest stretching toward us like silent warnings. It’s magic curling around us like an unseen current. The forest loomed ahead, vast and unyielding, its secrets hidden within the twisted maze of trees.
Elias stayed close to me, his gaze darting nervously between the trees. “Azura,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“What?” I asked, glancing at him.
“If it comes to it,” he said hesitantly, “if you tell me to run... I don’t think I can.”
“You can,” I said firmly, cutting him off. “And you will. That’s how you help.”
His jaw tightened, but he nodded reluctantly. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m not happy about it.”
“None of us are,” I replied, stepping into the shadows. “Let’s go.”
The Dark Forest swallowed us whole, its silence pressing against my ears. My siblings moved ahead, their steps steady, while Elias followed close beside me, his unease radiating like a second heartbeat. We’d been walking for a while when Dravon suddenly stopped, his hand tapping his side as though searching for something. "I forgot my bag," he said casually, though I could tell from the way his eyes flicked to mine that it wasn’t a mistake at all.
I nodded, my face showing a touch of annoyance for show. "Of course you did. Always forgetting something," I teased lightly. "We’ll go back and grab it."
