Chapter 6: Simple Is Best

Aria wanted to throw herself into a magical fire. One like the campfires the Mage had created; full of heat but never burn inducing. 

She wondered what it would be like to just curl up in the center of the flames and let the heat seep into her bones. Being at the edge would not be enough to chase away the chill that had burrowed under her skin. Her veins were not filled with blood; no, they contained the raging frozen waters of the Galtius. Considering she had waded through its waters when climbing down the mountains on the border, Aria knew exactly how cold the river was. 

She was colder now. The coldest she had ever been. 

She refused to stop moving. Her legs trembled from fatigue, her throat ached from thirst, and the rest of her shook as it tried, desperately, to create even a hint of warmth. 

Her body failed magnificently. 

But she kept plodding along, using the Stars as a guide towards the mountains and around the gigantic snake’s last known location near the riverbed. 

I can try to get back to the riverbed in two days, she mused. As long as she avoided the snake, the dried up ditch would be easier to traverse than the varying cracked ground and sandy expanses she experienced away from it.

She kept on moving, through the first night, and the second day, till she spotted a group of dried up trees on her second night and gave into her body’s demands. Aria curled up in a space between them, a kind of hollow that protected her from any winds, and promptly passed out. 

She knew it was dangerous. That any demon could find her. 

The chimera from earlier that day had been a close enough call. Her body did not care. It demanded rest.

Aria slept. 

She slept through laughter. Through scarred hands gently lifting and carrying her, cheek pressed into leather armor as blue sleeves wrapped her cloak more securely around her boneless form. 

She slept through a golden snake slithering under her cloak and coiling by her stomach, releasing warmth until she stopped shivering and her teeth chattering. 

She slept. As they passed a dead chimera. As they reached the remains of the demonic cats. As they rested at the campsite she had left them at. 

She slept.

The Hero smiled.

The Cleric prayed for her, eyes cast toward the Stars. 

The Mage frowned as he pressed bubbles of water to her lips.

The Warrior refused to look at her, mind overlaying his sister’s prone form onto the living one in his arms. 

For three days she slept. 

It’s loud. A voice, familiar to her from the years, grated against the haze of her mind. It grew and grew in volume, the loudest she had ever heard it. 

“We need to go back!” The baritone rose in pitch steadily. “She’s dying! I… I…” Gasps broke up his words, a sob nearly coming through. “I didn’t drag her here for her to die!”

A sigh, heavy with exasperation preceded the Hero’s response. Aria could see him rolling his eyes in her mind. 

“She’ll be fine.”

A grunt, undoubtedly from the Mage, cut the reassurance off. 

Aria rolled, tucking her face closer to the source of warmth already pressed against her cheek. It’s too loud. Her mind, still entrenched in sleep, began to sink back down into its depth. 

“She’s just asleep,” snapped the Hero. 

The world around her tightened. She shifted. A steady beat filled her ear, directly under right cheek. 

Loud.

Aria rolled, trying to escape the pounding sound. 

Something squeezed around her. Two bands pinning her place. 

…. move….

I can’t move. 

She sat up, fighting the bands. They loosened immediately. She opened her eyes, shutting them instantly as light stabbed a blade into her brain. She groaned.

They caught me. 

In that moment she had caught sight of the Warrior, his face looking down into hers. The voices from earlier hadn’t been a dream. 

Aria gritted her teeth together. Heat rose in her chest, climbing up to her eyes. Her throat filled with stone, the space tightening and tightening. She shoved it all down, focusing on the bite of her fingernails into her palms. The pain was different from the ache in her limbs or the dryness of her mouth. It was a reminder; she was alive. As long as she was still breathing she would manage. That was the only thing that mattered. Only the dead were without a path. 

The familiar words calmed her. The old coot had told her the living had many paths to walk on and no path ever disappeared. Only the soul walking on it did. He had wiped her tears as she watched her parents’ pyre slowly die out and asked what path she wanted to take.

I’ll make my path.

A cacophony of voices showered over her.

Aria unclenched her fists and covered her ears. Her body curled in on itself, the bands around her shifting to accommodate her. 

She focused on breathing, the dry air wheezing in and out of her nose. Short rapid breaths. 

Her cheek stuck to leather armor, the sweat and leaked tears adding to the pain of pulling it away.

The pain refocused her. 

She breathed. In. Out. In. Out

Hidden away her mind slowed. The bands around her were the Warrior’s arms. He was carrying her again. At least it’s like a princess this time, thought Aria between breaths. 

A part of her screamed, You shouldn’t need to be carried!

She slapped it away. 

Aria liked simple things. She wanted a simple life. She had been content at the temple for the most part. She had run away as soon as things stopped being simple. 

While the Demonic Peninsula was dangerous, the rules were simple. 

The Warrior kept her alive. That was his job; keep them all alive. Carrying her was part of keeping her alive. Simple. 

The Mage kept her watered and killed monsters if she threw herself towards him in a fight. Annoying, but useful. 

The Cleric was useless. But he would never harm her intentionally. He had only dragged her here because he was sure she would survive. Idiot.

The Hero was an ass. While she could make no sense of him yet Aria knew one thing, he would not watch her die. He believed the Cleric too much for that.

The Hero’s Party was not dangerous. It was just made up of fools who refused to let her go. Refused to let the Saintess go. 

The Saintess who could purify the Demon Lord. According to the old coot at least.

I’m not the Saintess, groused Aria with a final deep breath before lifting her head.

The Cleric was yelling; the veins in his throat prominent, arms gesticulating.

The Hero was shouting right back, face red and eyes flashing. 

The Mage was rubbing his forehead, squinting at the fools before him.

Aria tilted her head up, catching sight of the Warrior’s chin. It shifted down till dark blue eyes met her own. His eyes darted from hers to the ground. She nodded.

The Warrior bent forward a bit, lowering her slowly. Her boots touched the ground and needles immediately stabbed up and down her legs as her weight pressed them into the sand. She gasped and leaned forward, releasing her ears and gripping the Warrior’s arms to stay steady as his hands firmly held her ribs, taking on some of her weight once more. 

Goddess, that hurts.

Aria breathed through the pain wondering how long she had been asleep. A night would not result in this debilitation. 

“Aria!” 

She glanced up to look at the Cleric. “Shut up,” she ground out through clenched teeth. 

“Aria,” he sobbed, throwing his arms around her and sagged in relief. 

She gasped, holding in a yowl of pain and thanking the Goddess for the Warrior’s physical support which was the only thing stopping them all from collapsing into a pile. 

Aria yanked his face away from her shoulder, now damp with tears and snot. Goddess, he’s reverted to being a crybaby. 

For years he had kept his distance. Then this Saintess nonsense had begun and he started chasing after her. Captured, she had refused to associate with him. He’s a useless annoyance, had been her main thought. Her main obstacle to freedom. 

But this… grown man who was trying to continue leaking snot on her shoulder was too reminiscent of the boy she had known. 

 Aria released a deep breath through her nose before taking the Cleric by the shoulders and forcibly shoving him away. The Warrior held her wobbling form in place as the Cleric went tumbling backwards, a blue puddle of indignation. “Aria!”

She ignored him as she looked back up at the Warrior, “I’ll sit.”

He nodded and helped her slowly lower herself to the ground as all her muscles screamed in pain. 

The Cleric crawled toward her, grasping her hands. His tear stained and blotchy face didn’t impress her. Pathetic.

“Aria,” he whined, almost a whisper. 

She raised a brow. “I know you’ve been useless this entire quest, but have you lost the ability to formulate sentences now, Cedric? 

He stared at her, big green eyes overflowing as he threw himself at her once more. 

“For Goddess’ sake,” she snapped as she tried to peel him off her, “Stop doing that!”

From the corner of her right eye she could see the Hero turning away in an attempt to hide his laughter. The Mage had simply turned his back on them, unwilling to watch the Cleric disgrace himself further. 

A muffled, “I thought you were dying,” came out between sobs. 

Aria glanced up at the Stars, praying for patience. A wet hiccup shattered any hope of that. She grabbed the Cleric, fingers fisting the brown hairs at the base of his neck and yanked back enough to make him face her. 

“And whose fault is that? Hmmm?” she sneered. 

He blinked and then glared at her in reproach. “You ran away.”

She glared right back. “You kidnapped me.”

“As the Saintess you have to help fulfill the prophecy.” 

“I’m not the Saintess,” she said. 

Being the Saintess isn’t simple.