This is a partner chapter to WYSTWOOD's chapter of the same name. It is written from Raeph's perspective and may contain spoilers.
Raeph no longer felt at home within the Wystwood. He had known it the moment his feet left the earth and his finger brushed the leaves. As a boy, his mother had taught him how to tread feather-light through the forest, like a bird without wings. She had clambered up next to him in the branches, encouraging him higher and higher, until one day he had reached the top of the tallest tree and looked down into the valley. The tower of Wysthaven had seemed so small then, no more than a needle in a thread of passageways and pavements.
But needles could pierce and puncture, and now his mother was dead and that boy was gone.
Raeph sighed, expelling the memories from his mind along with the air from his lungs. He found he couldn’t breathe deeply enough in the valley; the soot and smoke from the city had surely strangled his veins. When he had stepped out of Wysthaven, the grass had been so green, the sky a swirl of silver and cobalt that was usually hidden above grey slated roofs. He tried not to think of the last time he’d left the city, or the gold he’d been prepared to part with to bribe his way beyond its walls.
Instead, he rested his head against the tree trunk, its bark so dark it nearly matched the hair tumbled down over his eyes. Surely the wood had never been so black? Perhaps the forest was finally beginning to decay. Raeph hoped it would die. Another deep breath, and he nearly choked. The acrid scent of sap and magic burned its way down his throat like a fire that could never be extinguished. Revolting temptation. If only the Wystwood would die.
A twig-snap brought the forest back into sharp focus, the burn resolved to a smoulder in his chest. He had been promised this day would come twelve years ago, and the pain of its revelation would doubtlessly be dulled with the death of the traveller. What he had lost was now gone forever, but he could make sure history would never repeat itself. He would protect everything that Samael had strayed from. But first, he had to be certain that this was the one.
So he watched from above as the traveller approached, just as he had learned in the trees as a boy and then perfected from the tower as a man. They wore a dark velvet cloak, which hid all but their hair, as the hood had fallen back. Ribbons had once been woven through their plaits, though now their ends were little more than threads and tatters. But they had retained their emerald stain, vivid amongst the traveller’s chestnut hair, more like the colours of the forest that Raeph remembered from his childhood. He clenched his jaw.
The girl was stumbling erratically, and Raeph wasn’t certain that she hadn’t succumbed to the allure of the Wystwood trees. He wouldn’t find it surprising, considering the fates foretold of her. But it would make her that much more unpredictable. That much more dangerous. His hand went to the ebony dagger strapped to this thigh, almost glad to have it for the first time in his life. But then, the traveller stopped.
She had found a sign overgrown with ivy. A sign which pointed to Wysthaven. He knew then that she was the traveller he had been anticipating for over a decade. She was the one who bore death upon her shoulders. Unless he brought it down upon her first.
Raeph dropped from his perch on the branch. She was short, he realised, not least because she was doubled-over in front of the sign. This was his first surprise; she was crying. He had hardened himself to tears within Wysthaven, but the forest was a place of silence and soft whispers. Yet here was a girl—perhaps only a child by her height—sniffing into her velvet cloak.
He would not be fooled.
A flock of birds scattered overhead, as if sensing what was to come, and the girl flinched. Her hand swung out, slow and awkward, but she couldn’t even turn herself before Raeph had caught her by both arms and thrust her against the nearest tree. She was a young woman, he realised, not a child. Yet, her body felt so small and breakable beneath his fingers alone, clashing with the travellers that had haunted his nightmares, and so he couldn’t stop the low laugh escaping his throat. He immediately hated himself for it, refusing to believe he was becoming like the Hounds and the glee they took from their victims. Truthfully, there was little that he didn’t hate of himself, but he refused to relinquish whatever semblance of sympathy he had left.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's dangerous to wander around Wystwood alone?" He shifted a hand to her throat, confident she couldn’t give too great a struggle, and weighed his options. For once, there would be no room for sympathy. "You never know who might be waiting for you."
Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, so unlike the chill he had grown used to in the tower, and so instead of ending her quickly, he moved to check her for weapons. She was barely giving up a fight, like a rabbit caught in a trap and waiting for their end. Frenzied little heart beating itself ragged. She didn’t even have anything remotely threatening hidden beneath her folds of velvet. It was his second surprise, and the one that made him question if he hadn’t been correct after all.
But then Raeph felt the crisp cut of paper, and his confidence returned as he whipped the letter from the traveller’s pocket. "Smuggling messages into the city, are we? You could get into all kinds of trouble for that."
The girl twisted around and Raeph caught a disorienting look at her face, partially shrouded amongst swathes of hood, ribbon, and hair. It was her eyes that stood out though; bright blue and fierce. Leaves, earth, and sky. He bit down hard enough to taste blood, glad to be wearing his mask.
"Return that immediately," she snarled.
He wanted to snarl right back at her. "I don't think you're in any position to be making demands here."
He took a step forwards instead, satisfied to see her stumble away from him and collide once again into the tree. Nothing more than a wild, little rabbit.
"And why should I listen to the threats of a common thief?" she asked.
He had to commend her nerve, if nothing else. After all, Raeph was many things, including a thief, but he was not common. Everyone in Wysthaven knew that, and doubtless, everyone seeking the city had heard tale of him. He wouldn’t let her taunt him. Holding her gaze, he began to tear open her letter.
"Stop!" she cried, and surprise the third came in the shape of a branch swinging towards him.
He reacted without thinking; it wasn’t the first time someone had tried to bludgeon his head. He had her against the tree again, the taste of blood returning and the ebony dagger against her throat. Enough games. He could feel the blade rousing the throbs from her furious heart up into its hilt, hot and hungry. Perhaps it too had been waiting for this day just as long as Raeph. He fought to keep his hand from shaking.
"With this dagger, all I would have to do is press down, ever so softly." He traced the blade lower and felt her quiver beneath him. "It would slice through your skin and sinew and carve the heart from your chest, still beating, before I held it before you while you struggled for breath. The pain would be so intense that you would beg me for death, but I would condemn you to live out your days without a heart and near-mindless from the torment of it."
The girl gasped, her breath as warm as she was. "That's not possible."
Her trickery was growing stranger still, fogging his mind, which abruptly cleared with his fourth and final surprise. The girl’s face was so close, all soft, rounded cheeks then small, dimpled chin. Those cobalt eyes catching the sunlight. Fae sun on a human face. His fingers flickered back, scalded by the shock, and she leapt at him.
She was no rabbit, Raeph realised. She was a creature with claws. A creature from another world.
Then, the air was struck from his lungs and he was falling. He tried to speak but didn’t have the breath as the traveller’s face tumbled out of sight. He had never fallen before. He had only ever climbed, higher and higher, where nobody could reach him. But now, a stranger from another land had ripped him from his perch.
Raeph lay sprawled amongst the tree stumps and nettles. His chest ached terribly, but worse, his hands were empty. The ebony dagger was gone along with the girl. Twelve years. Twelve years of waiting and he had still failed. All was lost. He slumped deeper into the undergrowth and gasped in the acid-tang of magic.
Stars and seers, damn them all.
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