Ashen straddled the bedside, his knuckles balled against his knees. His mind spun round and round, round and round, like a turning wheel. Last oathbreaker. How did he know? He'd never uttered a word to anyone. Never. And yet, the stranger's eyes seemed to know too, like they were someone who had waited all these years for him.
A sudden loud knock on the door startled him.
Ashen, are you awake?" It was Serane's weary, gentle voice. She came in without waiting for an answer. She had half-shed her armor, with rags hanging loose from leather thongs. "I figured you'd be asleep by now. You look worse than I do.".
Ashen forced a weak smile. "I don't sleep well these days."
Serane intervened and let her gauntlets fall with a clang. She regarded him for an instant, her expression a blend of anger and worry. "You've changed since that man spoke to you. What did he say to you?"
Ashen hesitated. He did not want to be evasive, but her expression made him consider. She broadcast her misgivings on her face more openly than anyone he had ever known. If he was too evasive, she would question him.
Nothing worth repeating," he whispered.
Her jaw clenched. "That is not good enough."
The air was tense between them, hard as a razor. He turned away from her, towards the candle. "You wouldn't believe me."
I believed you when you told me the dead still talk in their silence," she said. "I believed you when you told me that you could sense the heaviness of spaces that other people call empty. Don't tell me what I can't believe.".
Ashen was taken aback by the harshness of her voice. For a moment, he ached to tell her it all—the promise, the betrayal, the night that still tormented him in his dreams. But he did not have the words. To say them out loud felt too risky.
Instead, he murmured, "It was… a reminder. Of something I thought I had hidden.".
Serane's eyes narrowed, but she left it at that. She sat down in the chair opposite him, blowing out a loud breath. "Fine. Hold your secrets. But don't think I'll stand idly by if they incinerate us later.
Her words cut deeper than he had imagined. He repressed the guilt, forcing himself to remain silent.
The room was again silent, except for the soft crackle of the candle.
Outside, the evening wind of Virelda was heavy with the scent of rain. In the streets below, they were quieter than they would have been on any ordinary night; merchants had closed up early, and even the raucous calls of the square were unheard. The city was keeping its breath.
Ashen rose finally and went to the window. Serane remained unmoving, but felt his eyes upon her shoulders. He spoke to her without glancing about. "Have you ever broken a vow you knew you could not keep?
There was a pause. Then she eased her voice. "I've had more experiences than I'll mention. But never one that haunts me like with you." His throat was constricted. He allowed the silence to dominate.
Morning came too soon. The city awoke with concern, like ants around a disturbed nest. People whispered in dark alleys—of a traveler spotted at night, of mysterious signs posted on walls, of an alarm no priest could describe.
Ashen trailed Serane through the marketplace, where the cobblestones glistened with rain. He attempted to push aside last night's thoughts, but they clung to him like specters.
It was then that Callen appeared, with a great many scrolls, his face very pale. "Ashen! Serane!" He stumbled over his own boots in his haste to reach them. "It has happened again."
Ashen's stomach turned. "What?
Callen shoved the scrolls into his palms. "Another shrine. It's been destroyed. It has the same symbols as the last one." His voice was gentler. "And the priests are speaking your name, Ashen. Not openly, but I heard it."
Serane's hand automatically reached for her sword. "What are you telling me, his name?"
Callen shook his head quickly. "I don't know. But they say the symbols—the pattern—it's about someone who walked with a broken promise. Someone who—"
"Enough." Ashen spoke more harshly than he had intended. He shoved the scrolls aside. "Lower your voice."
Others were already looking. Some of the shopkeepers took their children closer, talking quietly as they walked by.
Ashen's skin crawled.
Serane grasped his arm and led him into a less crowded alley. "Ashen, this isn't a rumor we can ignore. If people are linking your name to these shrines…"
"It's not me," he replied hastily, though even he wasn't quite sure whom he was attempting to reassure.
Serane gazed into his face with suspicion and faith. "Then we need to find out who is behind it before the city."
Ashen nodded dully, but his chest hurt.
Far overhead, a bell rang—not the normal hour bell, but a low, irregular boom. The sound rolled over the city, heavy and unsettling.
Callen whispered, "That's the warning bell. Something's coming.
Ashen gazed up at the sky. The clouds rolled in swiftly, obscuring the morning sun. The air was heavy and caused his skin to prickle.
And for the first time in years, he heard the voice he'd buried—soft, mocking, impossible.
You vowed to me, Ashen. Don't you recall?
The world was spinning. He stumbled, grabbing the wall.
Serane's scream was distant, muted. Callen's hand on his shoulder was dreamlike.
The voice again spoke, nearer now, speaking into the bones of his marrow.
An oath never expires. Nor do I.
Ashen gasped for air and dragged himself up as the bell grew louder. He gazed into Serane's frightened eyes,
His own voice trembling.
"It's not over. Not by a long mark."
Comments (0)
See all