the  northern  lands  held  their  own  customs ,own  traditions  &  their  own  gods  as  well . he  recalled  the  tales  of  the  hellbrites , the  sigil  of  maera  each  viredian  warrior  etched  into  their  weapons , the  stories  of  the  dark  god , abas  who  cursed  the  hellbrites  to  wander  the  land  forever  heartless  &  hungry . they  were  once  viredians , soren  had  said , breath  fogging  thick  as  the  clouds  as  he  brought  his  axe  down  over  the  fire - woods . his  axe  too , held  the  sign  of  maera . once  viredians , &  now  no  more . they  are  banished  past  the  mountains , but  they  often  wander  down  to  the  village  during  the  winter . &  lysander  had  asked  then , gathering  the  chopped  woods  to  the  side . how  can  you  tell  when  it’s  winter  in  viredia ?  soren  only  tossed  his  head  back  and  laughed  a  hard , long  laugh , then  struck  his  axe  down  again . you  are  funny . king . —————- the  bowl  before  them  remained  hot , untouched  by most . nivan  made  a  polite  grin , but  appeared  quite  appalled , turning  his  head  away  as  the  blood  bubbled  up  thick  &  hot  to  the  surface .  made  with  the  congealed  blood  of  the  white  elk , it  is  a  delicacy . soren  was  saying , who  also  seemed  to  be  taking  a  second  helping  of  the  stew . beside  him , hassan  too , had  slammed  his  empty  bowl  down , asking  for  a  second  heaping  portion  of  the  meal  to  vanya’s  thunderous  laughter .     ❝ it’s  delicious .❞       he  said  after  length , taking  a  large  bite  full  of  his  stew , managing  to  swallow  the  bit  down  as  nivan  coughed  with  a  sound  something  like  choking  beside  him .        ❝  certainly  not ,—– something  you  would  find  in  nerrath .  compliments  to  the  chef . ❞        he  added , grinning  with  another  bite , &  cast  a  sharp  glance  down  towards  his  men , who  hurriedly  began  to  pick  their  spoons  up  one  by  one .  vanya  here  says  that  there  is  no  need  to  rush , he  has  made  a  whole  potful  for  the  guests  tonight .  for  silan’s  sake , nivan  mumbled  under  his  breath , watching  as  hassan  moved  on  towards  his  third  helping  for  the  night .  

———-the  tables  became  full  of  chatters  &  drunken  laughter , &  leaving  the  mirth  behind , lysander  took  a  step  outside . the  sun  had  settled  down , &  the  skies  of  viredia  had  turned  to  a  deep  shade  or  mauve  &  blue , &  he  soon  thought  of  the  tales  of  the  viredian  gods . abas , who  regained  his  strength  every  night  after  the  sun  had  set , &  would  roam  through  the  darkness , leaving  behind  trails  of  chaos  &  wicked  creatures  behind  him .  banished , kristjan  had  told  him , the  wicked  god  had  been  banished  from  his  motherland . quietly , he  closed  his  open  hand  into  a  tight  fist . banished . once , he  too , had  been  banished  from  his  home  as  well . forced  into  a  life  of  servitude  under  the  kingdom  that  had  slaughtered  &  set  fire  to  his  town . be  patient , lysander . the  captain  of  the  ship  had  told  him  as  they  set  sail  to  silanos . this  is  only  a  part  of  your  fate .  at  the  time , he  hadn’t  understood  what  those  words  meant . &  for  many  moons , he  lived  as  lysander , the  kingsguard , the  protector  of  silanos  under  the  grace  of  princess  calyse . then , within  a  breath , he  had become  lysand  the  ii , king  of  nerrath , the  ruler  of  northern  realms . northern  lion , many  called  after  him . he  is  the  northern  lion  destined  to  bring  issia  back .  breathing  out , he  watched  his  breath  appear  foggy  before  him , &  stood  in  the  cold  night , watching  the  sun  sinking  lower  into  the horizon . then , he  heard  the  sound  of  the  door  slamming  shut  before  him , heavy  footsteps , &  a  stern  hand  soon  found  itself  over  his  shoulder .       ❝  kristjan .  ❞      he  acknowledged  quietly  without  turning  his  head . he  could  hear  the  loud  clashes  of  something  breaking  inside , the  hearty , drunken  laughter  of  hassan , &  dismembered  shouts  that  soon  spread  out  through  the  building . &  outside  he  stood  under  the  violet  sky   &  away  from  the  mirth , thinking  upon  the  word :  fate .          ❝  i  will  join  your  patrol  into  the  woods  tonight .  allow  me  to .❞

Kristján never knew what to make of them, this ragtag group of men who all at once seemed so eager to receive guidance from him, of all people in the realms. Wouldn’t you much rather benefit from Thendar, or Dernas? Somewhere where there is tranquility, instead of Viredia? She is a cruel land, unforgiving to all, even to our people. But Lysander had insisted, and when the word king had hit his ears, I have been given a great destiny ahead of me. To restore Issia to its former glory, as its next rightful king, Kristján was hesitant to believe it, and hesitant to believe any of their tales, of epic journeys across the seas, encountering creatures the likes of which they’d never even heard in Viredia, surviving on pure will most nights when food was hard to find and tension high… But would they stay here, Sören had said one night, amid the glow of fire in Kristján’s chambers as he’d called his brother to ask for his advice on what to do with the men. If they did not speak some truth, at least? They try so hard to assimilate here, eating our food, engaging in our culture with not even the slightest hint of boredom in their eyes. And I see things in Lysander especially. The way he holds himself, Sören paused, He holds himself like a king, Kristján. Don’t tell me you’re blind to it?

And Kristján knew he was right. His brother had never led him astray before, and he had no reason to do so now. Kin of shared blood, literally, did not lie. He didn’t seem to be any more right as Kristján observed Lysander standing just outside of the dining hall, standing stiff-shouldered as he gazed out onto the starry horizon, and he saw it then, that quality Sören of which he spoke, when Lysander looked him in the eye, and asked consent for him to join the nightly patrol. A look of determination, grit, a look Kristján had seen in no one who’d ever come to Viredia who had not already been born there, save for very few. It was the look of a leader, a pioneer; a king, yet a young one, still unsteady on his feet, still wobbling underneath the weight of his yet-invisible crown. “I admire your bravery.” He rumbled with his voice low, only having to raise it when he heard the raucous sounds of the building behind him momentarily threaten to drown him out. “Are you entirely sure? It is the most difficult task Viredia has to offer. You may not come out of it unscathed, though we will attempt to protect you; you must use all your training to defend yourself, lest you or someone else faces their death out there.”

But Lysander did not waver in his asking, and so Kristján smiled, nodding and clapping Lysander on the shoulder once more. “All right, lion of the north, as I hear your friends so often call you, we’ll see how you fair tonight. I expect good things from you; it would be a shame to have to bury you. Keep your wits about you out there, be strong.” All at once he pounded a fist against Lysander’s chest, right above his heart. “You are an honorary Viredian warrior, now. Time to begin properly playing the part.”

=====================

They set off into the snowy landscape, not on horseback, but on foot. Kristján never saw much need for horses in Viredian territory, he’d explained to them, save for a small herd they kept for special reasons that were deemed to be not dangerous; they were fine for quaint strolls, but for a horse to get caught in a snow squall, and lead its rider astray, or slow them down should hellbrites emerge from the woods, it would be disastrous. A man’s legs are as powerful as any horse, if he knew how to use them properly.

If patrols during the daytime were already dangerous enough, night patrols were dangerous, multiplied by one thousand. It was unusual to bring someone still finding their footing out to such a life-risking task, but Kristján knew what he saw, in Lysander’s eyes; he was ready, he had to be. Even as they trekked through the snowbanks, and Kristján heard Lysander’s breaths coming hard and fast, heaving from his chest as he tried to fight the burning in his limbs from having to fight to take every step to keep from sinking into the snow, Kristján admired it, the tenacity he saw in the foreigner.

Then, without warning, he stopped, gesturing for the group to stop their walking. “I hear something,” He said in a hushed tone, “Something like an animal, but … Heavier. Stay close.” They came to a clearing of trees as Kristján slowed their pace, wary of what sort of creatures lurked just beyond their eyes. It could have been anything, any nightmarish creature attempting to stray too close to Viredian territory. It was the entire reason they went on these patrols, to smoke out any beasts who were coming too close for comfort to their home.

But a pair of gleaming yellow eyes shining from the darkest reaches of the shadowy forest confirmed his true suspicions about the identity of the creature. “Anita,” he called out with disdain obvious in his voice to the group as the beast showed herself more clearly in the moonlight, approaching them with intent. She seemed underwhelming at first glance, simply an old woman with a hunch in her spine, but as she came nearer, the fright she induced became more apparent, given her sickly green-yellow eyes that beamed like the brightest of lamp lights, her hair long, dark and matted like a gutter rat’s, her face horribly shriveled and just wrong, her skin saggy and gray. She seemed to turn her attention to Lysander in particular, and a hand reached out toward him as if beckoning something of him.

 supper  had  been  eaten , the  fire  set  within  the  fire - place , &  elias  put  to  sleep .  for  a while , elina  remained  by  the  boy’s  bed  side , thinking  of  how  his  eyes  grew  wide  at  the  dancing  flames  above  dietrich’s  palm . how  he  moved  closer  to  the  fire , the  light  dancing  in  his  eyes  like  fire - flies  , a  hand  reaching  out  to  caress  the  fire —- until  it  vanished  like  a  sigh  between  dietrich’s  closed  fist .  do  not  think  he  will be  able  to  evade  his  fate , eleanna . one  day , it  will  catch  up  to  him . the  fate  he was  meant  to  receive  many  moons  ago .  the  warnings  were  clear , concise  &  sharper  than  any  prophecies  made . yet , elias  slept  tonight , dreaming  of  the   fire - flies  &  the  heat  of  the  fire - place  keeping  him  safe  &  guarded  against  the  night .  finally , she  collected  herself  out  from  the  room , closing  the  door  with  a  quiet  creak . &  outside , she  met  the  trickster  again , who  stood  beneath  the  star - glazed  sky  without  a  word .       ❝ you  are  an  old  friend . ❞       she  began , watching  the  dark  form  standing  ahead  of  her  stir  without  a  word .  the  wind  was  silent , but  it  was  strong . she  could  smell  the  scents  of  the  pine - forest , the  river , the  lost  home  that  once  belonged  to  issia . belonged  to  her . her  hair  blew  dark  against  the  winds , &  she  tucked  her  shawl  a  bit  closer  to  herself , taking  another  step  towards  dietrich .       ❝  but  i’ve  grown  tired . could  you  believe  it ? ❞     the  sky  was  beginning  to  darken , the  sun  dipping  down  past  the  seas , &  elina  felt  her  heart  tremble  like  a  song - bird  in  her  throat .     ❝ us  witches .  cursed  to  haunt  this  earth  until  the  gods  will  for  us  to  stop . i’ve  been  wandering  these  realms  for  longer  than  any  of  you  can  recall . i  was  there  with  callas , i  was  there  when  she  created  the  first  birds . i  was  there  when  the  mountains  erupted  &  covered  the  realms  in  its  ashes , i  was  there  when  the  ice  froze  over  the  north  &  created  viredia . ❞     her  breath  fell  like  a  ghost , &  standhig  besides  dietrich , she  turned  her  head  towards  him  with  a  quiet , but  sorrowful  smile .  a  hand  reached  up , taking  the  man’s  face  in  her  fingers , —- yet , no  malice  was  present  this  time . there  was   only  silence ,  inspection , her  eyes  searching  past  his  eyes , through  the  drumming  of  his  heart  &  the  rushing  flow  of  his  blood , ——     ❝ this  is  the  life  you  are  cursed  with . you  are  young , &  you  may  believe  that  the  kingdoms  will  fall  under  your  influence . but  we  are  poor , pathetic  creatures . &  now , –- i  want  to  rest .  so  return  home , dietrich , &  speak  no  more  of  me  ever  again .❞  

After an uncomfortable supper of fleeting stares and painful silence between them, Elias had been put to bed, and Dietrich excused himself from the cottage, but insisted he was not going to leave without one last word. He did not move when he heard the door creak open and sensed her presence behind him, warm firelight spilling out from the doorway onto the otherwise dark grass. He only allowed himself to look upon her when she touched his cheek, and all at once, the tension in his shoulders seemed to fade. He could only sigh and rest his head there in her palm, close his eyes and breathe deep against the night air. An old friend, he reminisced on her fondly, the Eleanna from the before times, the way they’d talked and laughed and for a moment, Dietrich had almost allowed himself to believe he’d found true friendship in her. When she’d disappeared for a time, he even shed tears over her, and he hadn’t allowed himself to do that for what felt like decades. “We become attached to so many things in this life, that after a time, we just become too tired of the hurt, to want to endure it any longer. That’s the way of witches that I’ve always known.” He murmured the words as if saying them to himself instead of her, and for one of the first times since he’d come to this cottage, he nodded, and smiled, soft but without any hint of sarcasm or ill intent. “I believe it, in my own way.”

For a time, he’d never considered life to be a curse. But immortality had its costs, just as all magical properties had. It wasn’t until he’d felt loss, that he’d felt the world beginning to tug at his heartstrings, felt the gravity of who he was weighing down on him, pressure crushing him just a little more every day. It was a witch’s choice, to grieve for all time, or to detach themselves of the things that pained them, and more and more seemed to choose the latter every single day. “Even though you’re tired, you still choose to love. I can’t help but feel I might be a bit jealous of you, managing to keep your heart so open even after all the mortals and the world have thrown at you.” Another smile, a laugh as he tossed his head back, multi-colored gaze pointed upward at the sky dotted with the constellations of which he knew every name, every myth by now, having lived long enough to read the astrology books several times over. “I suppose that’s why I was always so drawn to you. You are full of surprises, always breaking the mold, forging a new path. Perhaps I’ve become even more bitter than an older witch. Maybe I’ve been living this cursed life all wrong.”

BLOOD  WITCH . the  title  belonged  to  someone  else . most  held  the words  in  their  mouth  with  a  snarl , or  a  whisper , coupled  with  trepidation . fear , anger , sorrow , resent . blood  witch .  without  a  word , elias  snagged  the  necklace  out  of  maricus’  hand , who  appeared  once  again , startled  by  the  sudden  action . behind  him , hassan’s  voice  snarled  out  softly  towards  the  boy : stay  quiet , maricus . otherwise  i  will  slice  your  tongue  out  &  roast  it  over  the  fire  tonight .  &  another  sigh  from  talyn , who  reeked  of  festering  blood  in  his  wounds .        ❝  your  wounds  have  gotten  worse . the  desert  sun  is  not  kind  to  injuries  such  as  yours . ❞        he  started , turning  away  from  maricus  &  kneeling  down  in  front  of  the  injured  explorer  with  a  hand  extended  towards  his  wounded  leg .  fear  shone  bright  within  talyn’s  eyes  for  a  second , but  he  was  far  more  adept  in  concealing  his  emotions  than  maricus  was , as  he  soon  swallowed  &  nodded  his  head  in  silence . slowly , he  unwrapped  the  festered  bandage  over  talyn’s  thigh , causing  the  man  to  lurch  sharply in  pain , head  tossing  back  as  he  squeezed  his  eyes  shut .  bad  blood . he  could  nearly  taste it  within  his mouth , &  without  a  warning , he planted  his palm  firmly  over  the  open  wound , ignoring  talyin’s  pained  scream .  &  elias  held  on only  tighter , fingers  coming  into  vice  grip  against  the  man’s  thigh  despite  talyn’s  shaking  protests, ———-& soon , the  poison  traveled  through  his  own  blood , the  veins  of  his  hands  turning  black  as  they  began  to  climb  up  from  his  palm  to  his  arms . he  could  feel  his  heart  straining , thrashing  violently  against  the  poison , but  elina’s  blood  was  there , soon  absorbing  the  poison  to  a  clear  nothing .  when  he  finally  released  his  grip  over  talyn’s  leg , the  wound  had  healed  itself  over , the  flesh  now  scarred , but  sealed .  talyn  appeared  struck  with  surprise , hovering  his  own  hand  over  the  wound  that  had  once  planted  itself  over  his  leg in  festering  blood  &  pain .  thank  you … . blood wi– , elias . talyn’s  voice  shook  out  quietly , &  elias  only  rose  from  his  position , nodding  towards  hassan  as  he  pulled  his  cloak  over  his  head  once  more  again .       ❝  i’ve  fulfilled  my  promise ,  scorpion . ❞

:i:i:i:i:i:i:i:i:i:i:i:i:

—————- after  the  witch  had  left , the  three  were  left  to their  own  once  more . maricus  still  remained  in  his  shocked , pressed  position back  against  the  wall  while  talyn  was  not  bending  his  leg  in  awed  expression .        ❝  first  time  seeing  a  real  witch ?  ❞      he  asked  in amusement ,  to  which  talyn nodded  his  head  vigorously .  i  thought ,. . that  the  blood  witch  was evil . he  was  muttering , &  hassan  only  shrugged , crossing  his  arms  as  he  kicked  the  door  shut  back  close  with  his  boots .       ❝  that  one  is  a  rare  breed .  they  call  him  the  witch  slayer . — ironic , isn’t  it ?  a  witch , hunting  its  own  kind .❞      with  a  grin , he  leaned  down  to  inspect  the  healed  leg  himself , tapping  against  the  scarred  flesh  with  a  hand .      ❝  looks  good  as  new , don’t  you  agree ?  be  glad  that  you  did  not  have  to  cut  the  whole  damn  thing  away . ❞     there  was  a  pause  in  between  his  laughter , talyn  soon  catching  up  to  his  laughter  nervously . maricus , however  was  not  laughing , as  he clutched  onto  his  scratched  ankle  with  a  flustered  expression , unable  to  say  much  for  a  very  long  time .  

Maricus had heard of witches, listened to his mother read him stories about the most dastardly, sinister beasts, with claws for fingers and sharp teeth suitable for grinding up children and swallowing them down their gullets. His father swore that he and his men had been captured by one once, and one of the soldiers had been bled out from his slashed throat like a hog, and the witch had performed a hex on the rest of them with their evil magic (No one could provide evidence for it, aside from a dark lock of hair his father claimed to have cut off of the witch when he’d beheaded her. No one dared speak against him). But to see a witch, a witch slayer, an odd combination of the two mixed into one very intimidating man, perform such acts upon Talyn, not to harm him but to aid him… The sight of the poison soaking into Elias’ hands, the black blood oozing up into his veins as he fought against it to save Talyn’s limb, the effort he’d gone through for someone of whom he barely knew or cared to know in exchange for a seemingly trivial deal…

Maricus could hardly believe it, and his eyes bulged a bit in disbelief as he stared upon the scarred flesh of Talyn’s leg, watched as his companion delighted in being able to bend it without pain for once since their journey had started. He glanced down at his ankle, a shudder going through him. Talyn’s screams of pain still echoed in his ringing ears, the horrific sight of Elias’ hands, his expression which still chilled Maricus to the bone…

“It is a wonderful thing, Talyn. You’re no good to any of us a cripple, remember as I’ve said?” There was the hateful word again as his shock quickly died off, the syllables hissed through his mouth as he struggled to stand from his position against the wall where he’d planted himself, finding himself feeling silly to be cowering any further when the witch was out of sight. “And it only cost me my father’s precious gift, one which I can never hope to replace, not with all the money in the realms! Good for you, indeed.” He did not smile, did not budge a laugh as Hassan and Talyn tittered together and admired the healed leg. If anything, he almost felt a twinge of jealousy; such an all powerful being, an infamous man of the realms, who wanted nothing to do with him, but focused entirely on the modest Talyn? It was an indignity, to simply be stolen from and then having to be absolutely ignored while he too had needs to which he required attending.

“I have wounds too, I hurt, too. Not even a wave of goodbye either, he just leaves. What an odd man, and you say he hunts his own kind? Perhaps because his own kind want nothing to do with him, and they’d rather scatter to the four corners of the realms than be in his presence. He truly is of a ghastly sort. Don’t be surprised if he’s planted some sort of hex on you, Talyn. I would not trust any man with his abilities as far as I could throw him.”

there  it  was ,  the  sound  of  pity . a  sound  that  he’d  grown  used  to  past  the  years  he  spent  traveling  through  the  realms .  the  seers  said  similar  things  as  well : there  is  nothing  more  for  us  to  do , witch - slayer . return  to  your  home  now .  &  he’d  laugh  quietly  in  their  faces , turn  away , &  tell  them  how  there  was  no  home  left  for  him . the  moss - grown  hut  in  the  woods  of  medea  were  long  burnt  down , left  to  nothing  but  tender  pieces  of  ashes  that  flaked  away  with  the  breeze . &  where  home  was , elina  had  taken  away  with  her , never  to  be  found  anymore . so  afterwards , he’d  find  shelter  in  caves , built  temporarily  huts  made  of  grove - woods  &  thorn - woods , but  never  stayed  in  one  place  for  too  long . after  all , he  had  never  known  where  he  came  from . elina  had  crafted  the  world  for  him , &  after  tearing  it  apart  with  her  own  hands , she’d  left . disappeared .  the  scar  above  his  chest  ached , &  bringing  his  hand  up , he  smeared  away  the  streaks  of  blood  sliding  down  his  cheek , leaving  a  ruddy  smear  across  his  face .   ❝ no .  i  did  not  think  that  you  would  be  able  to  . ❞       he  reached  for  his  sword  again , wiped  away  its  wetness  over  his  sleeves , &  returned  it  back  to  its  scabbard . where  the  sea - witched  had  run  her  fingers  over ,  there  was  a  sharp  trace  of  sharp  coldness , &  he  flinched  away  from  her  finally .    ❝ &   it  seems  to  me  that  you  too , ❞      he  said ,  a  dry  smile  appearing  from  his  face  . &  he  looked  towards  nadia , her  dark  hair  drenched  wet  with  the  sea - water ,  standing  still  &  carefully  by  the  sea - witch .       ❝  you  are  also  running  a  little  experiment .  ❞        the  words  left  like  a  whisper  from  his  lips  as  his  smile  silently  wavered  away , &  he  took  another  step  back  away  from  the  sea - witch  &  her  apprentice . the  waves  continued  to  thunder  &  roar , crashing  violently  behind  him , daring  to  swallow  away  any  ships  that  dared  to  set  sail  on  the  day .  

❝  i  do  not  belong  here .  now  that  i  see  that  you  cannot  break  the  curse . ❞     he  could  sense  their  eyes  piercing  through  his  back  as  he  edged  on  closer  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave , testing  the  waters  with  the  toe  of  his  boots .  you  cannot  die , death  is  a  mercy  for  you  that  has  been  taken  away .  voices  sang  within  his  chest , &  he  placed  a   hand  over  his  heart , feeling  for  the  pulse  that  did  not —- never  belonged  as  his  own . blood - mutt .  the  sea  turned , roared , &  lapped  hungrily  at  the  jaded  rocks  of  the  cave , elias  turned  back  to  gaze  back  towards  the  the  sea - witch  &  her  apprentice  again .      ❝  so  be  aware . miriam , the  witch  of  the  eastern - sea , that  this  is  the  result  of  your  little  experiments . ❞    &  he  took  a  step  backwards  again , loosing  footing  against  the  rocks , &  falling  into  the  roaring  clashes  of  the  waves .  you  will  never  die , death  will  never  reach  you , elias , my  star - light , not  until  i  am  alive .

A scream ripped through Nadia as she watched Elias plummet into the ocean, and she ran to the cliff-side from which he’d fallen, her eyes desperately searching the tumultuous waters for any sign of him, any sign of a breath, or a bloated body, if it were to come to that. “Miriam, we have to help-!” She called out for her mentor’s guidance, her face wet with sea spray and equally salty tears, but Miriam simply sighed, putting a hand to Nadia’s shoulder.

“He held a sword to your throat, and now you worry for his life? You are too forgiving, Nadia… It will be your downfall, if you’re not more careful.” Even as she said it, she herself found herself peering cautiously at the water where she’d seen Elias plunge into the ice cold waters. She knew he would be fine, at least, according to Eleanna, once. As long as her blood ran through him, he would make it out of the ocean alive and well, she was sure of it. A horrible curse, for a man who should have died long ago...

The sound of the waters raging on mixed with Eleanna’s lingering scent brought back to memories long since locked away in the shell of her heart, back to a time when Elina was still Eleanna the blood-witch, and they’d been friends. Tentative friends who bickered over everything and anything under the sun, but, as friendly as too all powerful witches feared by mortals could be.

She recalled the moment when everything had changed, when Eleanna changed. Often, in those times, they’d stroll the seashores together, and Miriam would talk on and on about her recent conquests, which kingdom’s ships she’d taken for her own, which famous captains she’d gutted in front of their terrified crew, and they’d laugh and joke about the way mortals were so afraid of everything, how they all looked the same when they were scared, weak little sheep ripe for the slaughter, every single time. But one afternoon, Eleanna had said something peculiar, with a wild look in her eye, of almost uncharacteristic desperation when she grabbed Miriam by the wrist, gazing hard into her, as if to try and read her from the inside out.

“Do you believe that it’s true? That witches can never truly love, without causing pain and ruin?” She’d whispered, and for a very rare moment of insecurity, she dipped her eyes away from Miriam, as if embarrassed; and she being who she was, it was odd that she would ever feel such a thing. Miriam couldn’t have known what she’d meant, until Eleanna returned the next time they decided to meet, and Miriam all but choked the answer out of Eleanna, holding her down in the sand, clawing at her and snarling for her to reveal herself and her secrets, as Miriam could smell something off on her, something like a baby, fresh from the teat and mortal, but … something off, at the same time.

rage , like  the  color  of  fire . she  was   no  stranger  in  the  face  of  one .  she’d  faced  so  many , the  fury  of  enraged  kings  as  their  kingdoms  fell  to  ruins , the  madness  of  it  reflected  in  illarion’s  eyes  as  he  sentenced  each  &  every  single  issians  to  their  deaths . from  child  to  old  man , make  sure  that  there  is  nothing  left . not  even  a  pup , or  a horse  from  issia  shall  be  left  spared .  it  did  not  unsettle  her , not  even  in  the  face  of  her  old  friend , dietrich , who  began  to  glow  dark  &  brightly  with  anger  before  her .  witches  cannot  love . he’d  said . you’ve  stolen  the  mercy  of  death  from  him .    —– ❝   i  plagued  the  village  of  kalamer . after  the  war .❞    she  began ,  reaching  her  hand  to  place  it  over  his  own , silencing  out  the  crackling  smoke - plumes  like  a  sigh . then  she  retracted  her  hand , seemed  to  contemplate  it  for  a  second , then  tucked  her  long , dark  hair  behind  her  hair  without  smiling .         ❝  i  plagued  it  so  that  no  medean  would  survive  there . each  of  illarion’s  men , &  his  horses , just  as  he’d  done  with  issia . i  killed  them  all , —- i  should  have , but  that  boy . i  found  him  still  alive  with  his  breath  on  him , held  to  his  dead  mother’s  bosom . the  plague  would  have  soon  stolen  his  life  away  as  well .  ❞        ah , what  a  terrible  question . do  you  love  him ?  this  was  it , wasn’t  it ?  dietrich  wanted  an  answer , &  yet , she  could  not  provide  it  for  him .       ❝  so  i  saved  him .  he  is  mine , &  no  harm  shall  ever  come  to  his  way . ❞       it  was  spoken  in  quiet   warning , although  she  appeared  hesitant  by  her  own  words .  your  selfishness  has  caused  that  boy  misery , & if  it  already  hasn’t , it  will . &  it  will  be  your  fault . — the  spirits  had  whispered  the  same  thing  to  her , as  she  ran  away  from  kalamer  with  elias , shedding  the  redness  of  her  hair  like  a  tree  losing  leaves  come  autumn . by  the  time   she  had  reached  the  borders  of  medea , she  was  elina , with  a  lost  child  crying  desperately  within  her  arms .  elias , she  whispered  down  to  him , &  he  looked  up  towards  her , finally  becoming  quiet . this  is  your  name .  elias . &  elias  closed  his  hand  around  her  fingers , &  smiled . 

❝  no , you  will  leave . ❞     she  continued , slowly  rising  from  her  seat . outside , the  winds  had  begun  to  pick  up , whistling  through  the  woods  like  the  shriek  of  a  dying  bird . dietrich  still  sat  across  from  her , face  incredulous  &  wary , &  she  lashed  an  arm  out , catching  him  off - guard  as  the  air  within  his  throat  was  knocked  out .      ❝  you  will  leave , tonight .  do  not  forget  who  i  was , trickster . i  was  eleanna , the  blood - witch  of  the  north . the  red  queen  of  issia , the  bringer  of  the  blood - death . ❞    voice  dropping  like  a  hush , she  walked  closer  towards  dietrich , the  veins  of   his  neck  climbing  up  in  spider - legs  of  ruddy  purple .      ❝  we  were  friends  once , so  do  not  let  me  dishonor  our  friendship  this  way .  you  will  leave , &  never  look  for  me  again . me  &  the  child . ❞      &   as  the  poison  within  the  blood  reached  up  towards  dietrch’s  face , she  grasped  the  man’s  jaw  in  her  hand ,  peering  down  at  his  face  with  a  gentle  smile .  outside , the  sound  of  rustling  sounded  close , &  the  door  creaked  open ——–  she  dropped  him , the  poison  removing  away  from  his  veins  as  she  pulled  her  hands  away . elias  stood  by  the  door , returned  safe  &  sound  with  the  berries  he’d  promised .  &  she  smiled  quietly , glancing  back  towards  dietrich , then  back  towards  the  boy  as  she  cleaned  her  hands  over  her  apron .     ❝  &  will  you  be  staying  for  supper , dietrich ? ❞

The revelations were lost to him in the swelling rush of blood through his ears, the hot hiss and burn of venom soaking into his veins, seeping up, up, ever so slowly as he felt her spells infecting him, his veins bulging, chest heaving as his breath was knocking from his body, feeling as though he were suffocating under her grip. He saw it then, her eyes, the way they betrayed her entire facade; she was Eleanna now, he could see her clearly for the first time all evening. He saw death reflected in her gaze, all the atrocities she’d committed, all the blood spilled in the name of vengeance, and if he were not being strangled by poison climbing his veins like deadly insects in his blood, he might have even laughed his amusement, watching her attempt to mother a child when she still hid such powers behind her modest skirts and plain hair.

“Friends…?” He croaked out, allowing just the tiniest smile to pass through his face until the pain struck him again, agony as every cell in his body felt as though it were being torn to shreds by the poison. “I remember - I remember those days fondly. You’d kick an old friend out like this? Your manners are lacking, Eleanna, it doesn’t bode well for your act.” A dry bark of a laugh, and that was all he could manage, until he heard the door swing open, the child standing there with berries loaded in his arms, some of them spilling onto the floor as he walked, accidentally squishing them into the wood grain. Dietrich was dropped from her grasp, in the knick of time; any longer, and he assumed himself a goner, he could feel the tendrils of the poison licking at his brain, invading the crevasses of his skull. He stumbled and nearly knocked over the chair he sat on, holding hands to his throat and chest as he struggled to catch his breath. It was anger that overtook him again, amusement from the audacity of the situation fading fast, but he could not act anymore, and had to stifle the smoke rising from his palms again, rubbing his knuckles as he caught Elias watching him, a puzzled look on his face before Elina shooed him into the kitchen, acting as though nothing had happened between them.

He reached for her arm again, feeding heat through his palm, enough for her to feel it through her clothing and onto her skin. A subtle warning, that she would not be rid of him as easily as she hoped. “We’re not finished. But, yes, I’d love to stay.” He turned his attention to Elias, and suddenly, his serious scowl turned to a face of all smiles, as he crouched down to be eye level with the boy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d interacted with a child like this, and he marveled at the fragility of such a small thing, his big brown eyes and the way he was so tiny compared to the two of them, yet brimming with such unnatural power, completely unaware of it, how the fates must be scorning him right now, the boy living on borrowed time, borrowed blood.

 ❝  times  have  changed , dietrich .❞       this  was  all  she  said , placing  a  cup  of  tea  in  front  of  him , despite  his  previous  request  of  needing  something  stronger . eleanna  would  almost  &  always  get  her  way , &  such  would  remain  the  same  way  as  elina  as  well .  you , eleanna . witch  of  issia , you  must  learn  to  quell  your  blood - thirst . one  day , it  will  come  to  ruin  you ,—- savaric  the  seer  had  warned  her  once , but  it  had  been  many , many  years  ago . &  without  adding  much , she  sent  another  unreadable  stare  towards  the  trickster’s  way , before  turning  back  towards  the  boy  standing  close  by  her .       ❝  elias , child .  what  of  that   dew - berries  that  you  said  you  would  collect  today ?  ❞       she  asked  quietly  , offering  the  child  a  velvet - soft  smile .  elias  seemed  to  finally  retrieve  his  meddling  hands  from  dietrich’s  pockets  &  nodded ,  stealing  another  careful  glance  up  towards  the  man  a  few  times  before  running  out  past  the  doors .      ❝  he  will  be  fine  in  the  woods  on  his  own . ❞    she  said  at  length , after  watching  the  door  smack  close , &  dietrich’s  mildly  concerned  expression , as  if  to  ask  her :  you  would  send  a  child  out  by  himself  in  the  wilderness ?       ❝  i  shared  my  blood  with  him .  the  powers  will  protect  him , it  always  has  . ❞    

at  that  comment ,  dietrich  seemed  to  pale , the  calmness  of  his  demeanor  stripping  down  to  reveal  a  face  of  still  incredulity .  upon  the  boy’s  disappearance , she  unclasped  her  hands , &  turned  back  towards  him  to  flick  a  finger  within  the  air  with  a  half  - smile  .  the  tea  then , dietrich  would  find ,  had  turned  into  mead  &  sat  in  front  of  him  now .  &  elina  slid  closer  to  him , dark  hair  falling  down  past  her  face  as  the  smile  soon  dissolved  off , revealing  a  calm , yet  deadly  fury  flickering  within  her  eyes .       ❝   why  are  you  here ?  you – dietrich , the  witch  of  distraught , mischief ,– trickster . searching  for  me . ❞        her  voice  fell  low , the  hand  gripping  against  the  edge  of  the  table  turning  pale .  after  lakyn  had  found  her , she’d  returned  to  her  hut , collected  the  small  babe  in  her  arms  &  traveled  away  from  the  mountains , until  settling  by  the  woods  of  ephie , located  deep  within  the  unexplored  forests  of  medea . do  not  look  for  me  again , she’d  warned  him , &  he  did  not  , as  he  promised .  ——after  a  length , she  appeared  to  reel  herself  back , the  softness  of  her  features  sinking  back  as  she  finally  took  a  seat  across  from  dietrich .  a  breath , &  she  collected  the  dark  cascade  of  her  hair  to  fall  past  the  left  of  her  shoulder ,  eyes  fluttering  down  as  she  drew  in  a  sigh .        ❝  i  will  not  be  getting  rid  of  the  boy . so  hold  your  tongue  before  you  speak your  next  words .  ❞

“I simply had a desire to see if it was true, if the famed blood witch herself still lived, just as the others had claimed. I admit I tend to be a bit tardy, or absent, at most of those meetings, given how droll they are and with no adequate drink to give me incentive or occupy my mind as they blather on.” He reached forward, taking hold of the mead, bringing it to his lips, although he never took his gaze from Elina, studying her closely as if to attempt to make sense of it all from her actions and appearances alone. “But when I heard of you, and the fate of Issia, I suppose I needed to come and see with my own eyes, that the Red Queen had managed to keep her head. Although now, I’m not too sure if that is the case.” After he’d taken his fill of the sweetened honey-velvet drink, the liquid dropping warm and smooth into his stomach, he set down the cup, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Times have changed, you say … I doubt there will ever come a time when cursing that poor boy to a life of misery is considered acceptable.”

He was struggling not to raise his voice, having to keep himself in check so as not to let his emotions carry him away. It’d never been his strong suit, maintaining a calm and collected approach with others. Usually, he’d just let his powers do the talking, shoot fire from the tips of his fingers, earthquakes with the stomp of his boots deep into the earth, wind storms to destroy his foes’ homes, or carry them off miles away until they landed in the oceans and drowned. But Elina was not a mortal, she could not be persuaded by aggressive shouts or threats; she knew him well enough already, to know every sort of trick up his sleeves. “Settle yourself, I’m not going to attempt to harm the child.”

He admittedly had considered it, briefly, as he watched the boy toddle out the doorway, eager to collect berries for his mother figure, completely unaware of the way his aura reeked of Elina’s blood, the way any witch from miles around had the potential to sniff him out, to find a peculiar hand-made halfling wandering around outside a supposed peasant woman’s cottage. How easy it would have been, to encase him in smoke so as to allow him to slip into unconsciousness, suffocate him by drawing the breath from his lungs, it would have been a quick death, he never would have expected it… “But death might have been a mercy for the boy. You stole that option from him, in your selfishness.”

He drew closer to Elina from across the table, resting his hands on the polished wood, drooping his head as he sighed, ran fingers through his auburn hair. “You know that I can’t just leave, not when I know of this. Don’t you think it’s cruel, to keep him around like this, cheating the spirits of death, pissing off the fates? What is your goal here?” His face contorted into a scowl, eyes glowing with an unnatural sort of light, those pesky passionate emotions always keeping him teetering on the edge of stability. “All I see when I look at him is a little pet project, a rodent on a spinning wheel that you keep for your amusement. Don’t tell me you - you love him, or some ridiculous notion like that?” He tilted his head closer still, the gold iris of his left eye seeming to pulsate, neon bright and wild, his face like stone carved into flesh and bone.

the  first  time  he’d  seen  the  ocean , he  had  only  been  eight  years  old ,  still  walking  with  a  fistful  of  elina’s  skirt  in  his  hand  as  they  picked  their  way  through  the  ruined  rock - fields  of  the  coast  of  issia . my  home , elina  said  then . my  home , issia .  &  he’d  told  her ,  that  issia  was  no  longer . that  this  was  the  kingdom  of  medea , &  elina  had  only  smiled  her  quiet , sad  smile  &  pointed  her  finger  out  towards  the  expanding  horizon  across  the  tumbling  tides  of  the  sea . the  waves  were  so  big  then , so  great  &  fierce , that  he  was  sure  that  it  would  swallow  him  whole  had  he  ever  dared  to  approach  the  mouth  of  the  ocean .  a  witch  lives  in  the  sea .  elina  told  him , bending  down  to  collect  her  skirt , &  to  look  at  him  at  eye - level . a  witch  colder  than  the  ice  seas  of  viredia , more  powerful  than  those  tides  that  you  see . she  drowns  sailors  at  whim  &  collects  their  bones  in  her  cave . dear  elias , my  little  star - light . you  are  to  never  venture  out  to  the  east  seas . —————- … … … . a  sea - witch , he  breathed  out  &  she’d  nodded  her  head . yes , a  sea - witch . one  that  you  must  never  meet . 

it  had  been  years  after  he’d  promised  elina , &  it  had  been  more  years  after  her  disappearance . he  still  bore  the  scar  above  his  heart  from  when  she’d  attempted  to  dig  his  heart  out , the  dark  cascade  of  her  hair  turning , red , bloody  red , red  as  if  she’d  been  burning  with  silan’s  light  herself .  blood  witch , he  recalled  the  words  then . eleanna  , the  blood  witch  of  issia . a  witch  never  loves , &  everything  she  loves  will  soon  turn  into  ashes , or  she  will  find  a  way  to  destroy it . it  was  a  common  tale  told  among  villagers , &  he  had  wanted  to  ask  elina :  did  you  love  me ? is  that  why  you  wanted  to  kill  me ? because  everything  you  love ,  you’re  fated  to  kill .         ❝  i  did  not  come  here  to  kill  you . ❞        he  said  quietly , taking  a  step  farther  into  the  cave , farther  in  &  closer  to  the  sea - witch . the  tides  crashed  violently  behind  him , spraying  the  entrance  of  the  cave  with  sea - salt .  his  eyes  flickered  towards  the  girl  on  the  grounds , – nadia –  the  villagers  said .  kill  her , witch - slayer , she  is  the  bringer  of  bad - luck , the  witch , kill  her  for  us .  yet , when  he’d  found  the  girl , she  was  no  older  than  sixteen  years , &  he  dropped  his  sword  over  the  cavern  floors  instead  of  burying  it  into  her  throat . she  was  now  eyeing  him , bewildered  eyes  staring  up  towards  him , dark  hair  falling  past  her  face  &  making  it  harder  to  see  her  expression .     ❝  nor  her  . ❞       he  added , kicking  the  sword  aside , causing  nadia  to  flinch  at  the  sharp  movement .  the  moon - light  filtered  into  the  cave , &  he  raised  his  head , pulling  the  hood  away  from  his  face  to  reveal  himself  the  great  sea - witch  before  him . he  saw  clearly  now  too , why  elina  had  warned  him  so  as  to  not  to  venture  out  to  the  east  seas .  the  sea - witch  glared  down  towards  him , neck  poised  high  &  regal , her  pale - bleached  hair  falling  wet  &  wild  around  her  like  a  lion’s  mane . she  wore  a  cruel  expression  on  her  face ,  a  beautiful , but  deadly  look  that  would  have  cursed  sailors’  hearts , if  it  had  not  stopped  them  from  beating  entirely . but  he  looked  upon  her  with  a  still  stare , the  right  of  his  eyes  beginning  to  well  thick  with  blood . his  vision  clouded  in  the  mist  of  red , —- elina’s  power  was  already  surging  to  protect  him  against  the  presence  of  the  sea - witch . blood - mutt , she  had  spat  at  him ,  which  meant  that  she  understood . she  understood  the  curse  that  kept  him  bound  to  the  realms  despite  the  numerous  deaths .  you  should  have  died  years  ago . a  seer  had  told  him  once , turning  away  from  him  in  disgust .  the  gods  do  not  look  kindly  upon  those  that  defy  against  their  written  fates . this  is  dark  omen . you  are  breaking  the  holy  laws  set  by  the  gods .          ❝  you  knew  her .  elina  .  she  warned  me  of  you  once . ❞     he  said , just  as  blood  began  slipping  down  his  eye  in  thin  rivulets , his  breath  fluttering  dangerously  in  his  throat .      ❝  you  must  break  this  curse  for me , if  she  cannot .  i’ve  heard  of  you . the  great  witch of  the  eastern  sea  who  has  knowledge  of  the  dark  arts .—-you  must  help  me . take  her  power  away  from  me . ❞

A laugh like ice shards shattering flew past Miriam’s lips, and she couldn’t help but cackle her amusement at the situation she’d found herself in. She’d suspected a mere rogue stranger of attempting to harm Nadia, and although she’d heard the girl’s screams from her place knee-deep in the waters of the reef miles down the shoreline as she meditated, she’d taken her time to come to this place, decidedly allowing Nadia to attempt to fend for herself, she was a sea witch in full bloom herself, after all. But when the screams only increased in intensity, when she heard Nadia calling for her, she groaned and grumbled her irritation, appearing before them and finding not just any madman holding a blade to her apprentice’s throat.

Nadia couldn’t help but throw herself at Miriam’s water-logged feet in gratitude for putting an end to the madness, although when she flinched as Elias kicked aside the sword, Miriam couldn’t hide her disappointment, scoffing as she bent down to take the girl by the ear, roughly yanking her up onto her feet. “Honestly, can I not leave you alone for two minutes? This is certainly not how I trained you to behave. Look at him!” She took Nadia’s chin in her hands, jerking the frightened girl’s head in Elias’ direction even though she attempted to pull her eyes away from his, the sight of blood oozing from his eye unnerving her greatly. “He’s nothing but a poor whelp, an imposter, and you cower before him? Honestly, Nadia, I’m ashamed to call you mine.”

She released Nadia and allowed her to crumple back to the ground, as the girl hid her face from the world, shame welling up within her as her cheeks glowed bright red, and she hugged her body as she trembled, still reeling from the prior incident. She murmured her apologies, but Miriam had already turned her attention back to Elias. She regarded him thoughtfully, drinking in his words. “You’ll have to forgive me for assuming the worst of you, although your actions tonight and previous evenings had me convinced of the most savage of intentions.” Eyeing the sword Elias had kicked away, she decided to come closer, now no longer detecting any imminent threat. She was an almighty witch, sure, but witches could still be stabbed, and although it wouldn’t kill her necessarily, it’d hurt, and it’d only serve to irritate her further, making things wholly unproductive.

“You say she warned you of me once, hm?” She reached just far enough to allow her fingers to trace a wisp of Elias’ hair, a soft grin on her features as she stared right into his bloody eye, and she took his face in her hands for just a moment, leaning in dreadfully close so he could properly see the points of her sharp teeth. “And look how big we’ve grown now, disobeying mommy dearest! Seeking out the no good, horrible sea witch all by himself! What did she mention to you, in the warnings? How I vowed to end you if I were to ever meet you, child or man, because her little experiment was always doomed to fail?” She brought a clawed nail to his throat, and as she heard Nadia gasp, she turned just slightly to meet her apprentice’s eye, registering the look of primal fear within her, and somehow, it compelled her to lower her hands, enough to release Elias from her grasp. She then put her head in her hands, mumbling something about I’ve grown so soft, haven’t I? into the skin of her palms.

“We had … disagreements, her and I, about many things. About love, especially. She was always such a love drunk fool, and oh, the things she’d say about you under bated breath to me, she treated you as though you were her own. When I found out the truth, just what she’d done, how far she’d gone, I couldn’t believe it at the time...” She glanced back to Nadia again, who was now standing, her hands in front of her as if to protect herself from some invisible enemy. But when she noticed Miriam’s softened expression, she raised a hand to dry the tears wetting her eyes, and came closer to Miriam, as the sea witch moved to wipe stray pebbles and dirt from the back of Nadia’s clothing, combing her fingers through her knotted hair. A rare, gentle action from a woman claiming such ferocity. “I think after all these years, I understand, though, if only a fraction of how she felt.”

“Whatever you want, you won’t get it from me so easily. I was never one to be forced, especially by a filthy blood-mutt like yourself, though you can certainly try, many men have, though their skulls in my cove suggest they did not make it terribly far.” She drank him in, his shadowy form obscured partially by darkness, only the moonlight glowing heavy on his skin, parts of his face, the hands he’d used in his prior crimes… “Don’t think I can’t smell her all over you, inside you, begging for release just as much as I’m sure you want it, pitiful cursed child that you are. Do you even know just how much trouble you’ve been causing lately? You’re the talk of the town, let me tell you!” She snorted a laugh and gave a tilted grin, stepping closer, the ocean crashing harsh and loud on the rocks behind her, spraying her in salty mist as the droplets rained back down to earth. “You chose an unfortunate place to confront me; you expect to fight a sea witch in her natural element? Pitiful as you are foolish. But oh, what an interesting thing you are, attempting to get the sea witch of the Eastern Sea, destroyer of men, goddess of shipwrecks, to bow to your desires... I almost want to hear you out, if only for a good laugh.”

She beckoned toward him with her index finger, her many rings glittering as she moved her hand, jewels and gemstones and emblems from various kingdoms, the boats and bloated bodies of the sailors who owned once them somewhere at the bottom of the sea, or long gone in Miriam’s stomach. “Step into the light, boy, so I can better see your face. I want to see if you perhaps look like Eleanna just as much as you reek of her. Besides, a proper, honorable gentleman kills his foes in the light. Would you truly kill a lady with such brutality, as to not even allow her the decency of viewing her murderer’s eyes? I'm giving you the courtesy, surely you can exchange the same; you are not that much of a savage, are you?”

❝  shut  your  mouths ,  or  i  will  sacrifice  you  two  to  the  witch  myself . ❞       he  could  sense  the  fear  in  maricus’  voice , the  nervousness  shaking  from  him  like  a  twig  caught  amidst  a  storm . blood  witch , he’d  heard  voices  whisper  once . the  bringer  of  plague , the red - death , . . there’s  a  new  blood - mutt  roaming  the realms  after  the  disappearance  of  eleanna . people  called  him  a  halfling , a  halfling  witch  that  murdered  his  own  kind .  but  words  were  words ,  &  they  often  became  misshapen  through  different  mouths .  unbothered , he  strode  towards  the  two  cowering  boys  by  the  corner  of  the  room , dragging  them  out  by  the  collars  of  their  clothes  with  a  scoff .     ❝  shake  in  fear  all  you  want , but  we  wake  at  dawn  tomorrow .  if  you  don’t , i’ll  leave  you  behind . ❞      it  was  all  he  said  before  dropping  the  two  over  the  center  of  the  floor , turning  away  to  climb  over  onto  the  bed . &  that  was  all  the  warning  the  two  had , before  the  oil - lamp  was  blown  out , submerging  them  into  the  darkness . if  i  were  you , i’d  be  getting  some  rest . talyn’s  voice  whispered  out  weakly , &  there  returned  maricus’  irritated  huffing  &  puffing , paired  with  his  whines  of  having  to  fall  asleep  on  the  floor . 

——–in  the  morning , both  talyn  &  maricus  would  find  hassan  missing , the  bed  holding  no  occupants &  his  belongings  gone . talyn  was  the  first  to  scramble  up  in  panic , attempting  to  shake  maricus  awake  besides  him .  wake  up !  you  fool !!  &  to  no  avail , he  sat  in  still  realization :  the  scorpion  had  left  without  them , as  promised . how  would  they  survive  through  the  desert  now ?  they  were  only  able to  come  this  far  under  the  shelter  of  hassan , whose  reputation  rang  like  an  evil  curse  throughout  the  deserts . without  the  scorpion , it  would  be  better for  them  to  perish  sooner  than  to  locate  through  the  scorched  deserts  on  their  own . as  he  sat  in  dark  pondering , the  door  crashed  open , waking  maricus  up  with  a  sharp  startle . hassan  stood , arms  crossed  as  he  examined  the  clumsy  mess  that  the  two  were  spread  out  over  the  floor , but  made  no  further  comments . &  talyn  saw ,— that  there  was  someone  behind  the  scorpion .  &  as  if  to  catch  his  staring , hassan  smiled , moving  away  from  the  door  to  reveal  a  man  standing  behind  him , his  face  covered  by  the  black  cloak  he  donned .     ❝  meet  elias . elias , the  blood  witch . ❞     he  said , &  the  man  removed  the  hood  from  his  face , his  face  expression  as  cold  &  still  as  the  ice  of  viredia . 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

THE  BLOOD  WITCH . a  title  that  belonged  to  elina  more  than  himself . yet  as  words  traveled  &  people  saw  that  he  handled  blood  magic , the  tales  soon  turned  itself  into  something  ugly . a  witch  that  hunts  down  its  own  kind . people  called  him  a  traitor , some  made  cruel  tales  of  him  that  the  bards  sang  at  the  courts .  o  cursed  creature , a  heart  so  befouled  that  it’s  turned  blacker  than  athalo’s  nights . . . but  witches  such  as  miriam  knew  far  better  than  to  call  him  the  blood  witch . a  blood - mutt  , she  called  him , eyes  bright  with  newfound  interest  &  anger . a  blood - mutt , crafted  by  eleanna  herself .  cursed  thing , made  to  wander  the  earth , isn’t  that  right ?  that  thing  inside  you , &  she  prodded  her  long , sharp  nail  towards  his  chest , just  above  where  his  heart  was . it’s  eleanna’s  own  blood . it’s  keeping  you  alive , isn’t  it ?  & it  opened  up  the  doors  to  some  truths , why  the  seers  could  not  locate  his  future , why  even  savaric , the  seer  of  ecrador  could  not  see  anything  but  darkness  in  his  fate . you  are  a  dead  man . how  interesting … how  interesting . he  said , cold  hands  closing  sternly  around  elias’  wrist .  &  so  continued  his  search  for  elina , or  eleanna , the  blood  witch  of  issia .        ❝  i  can  heal  you . ❞        he  said  after  a  length ,  gaze  directing  sharply  against  talyn ,  as  if  to  sniff  out  the  injury  of  his  leg . talyn  appeared  to  shift  uncomfortably  under  his  gaze , &  he  made  his  move  to  walk  towards  the  two  boys  sitting  in  the  center  of  the  room , kneeling  down  to  place  a  hand  over  the  injured  leg . he  could  sense  talyn’s  bated  breath , the  fear  that  radiated  like  burning  fire  through  his  heart . his  gaze  flitted  away  darkly , &  he  finally  looked  at  the  boy’s  companion , maricus  do  not   do  anything  foolish —, talyn  seemed  to  whisper  against  the  boy .      ❝  but  only  with  a  payment .  ❞    it  was  said  shortly ,  as  his  hand  lashed  out  to  yank  the  boy’s  chin  in  between  his  fingers’ grip . &  he  looked  at  the  boy  with  a  cruel , hard  gaze , eyes  finally  resting  above  the  blood - red  jewel  hanging  by  a  gold  chain  around  maricus’  neck .     ❝  from  dernas , are  you ?  i  can  still  smell  your  mother’s  milk  on  you , poor , foolish  thing . ❞      at  that  comment , maricus  finally  flinched  out  of  his  grip , scrambling  away  from  him  to  press  himself  back  towards  the  wall .  what  does  he  want ? my  blood ?? if  so , i  can’t  offer  anything ! take  his , –talyn’s  blood , if  anything !! he’s  the one  that needs  the  healing  after  all !  he  squabbled , earning  another  sharp  glance  from  talyn .  hassan  only  shook  his  head , watching  the  scene  play  out  with  an  amused  grin  on  his  face .  take  what  you  want  as  your  payment , witch .  he  only  added  in  afterwards , disregarding  maricus’  panicked  intake  of  breath .  &  so  he  leaned  down  towards  maricus  again , eyes  seeming  to  search  through  the  boy’s  before  they  finally  settled … above  the  pendant  hanging  around  maricus’  neck . bringing  his  hand  out  forward , he  closed  his  fingers  around  the  gold - chain , wearing  a  small , but  cat - like  smile  on  his  face .    ❝  blood - drop  of  didacus .  this  does  not   belong  to  you ,  boy  . ❞       maricu’s   mouth  opened , his  sharp  tongue  readying  itself  to  lash  out  against  him ,  but  hassan  stared  towards  him  darkly  from  the  door - way , which  seemed  to  shut  the  boy  up .  &  closing  his  fingers  down  harder ,  elias  leaned  in  closer  towards  him , his  right  eye  flaring  dark - red  .      ❝   give  it  to  me . — or  will  you  pay  with  your  own  blood  instead ?  ❞

Sleep came easier that night than most, although Maricus could have done without being dragged and plopped in the center of the room away from the bed and any hopes of comfort. He landed awkwardly as he tripped over his own feet, nearly crushing Talyn under his body as they fell to the ground with anything but grace. Talyn hissed quietly for him to sleep, and despite his complaints and gripes about the hardness of the panels that he was sure would cause his ribs to bruise, he found rest quicker than since the first night they’d been captured, when sleep tugged eagerly at his eyelids, and he did not startle awake at all with Talyn’s prodding, but instead with the sharp bang of the door signaling Hassan’s return from somewhere unknown.

His eyes still bleary and vision cloudy with sleep, he could see nothing but what seemed to be a humanoid shadow accompanying Hassan, a man with his face concealed by a hood. Maricus sat up, his heart jolted by a surge of adrenaline. He was sure any creature with sensitive nostrils could detect the scent of pure fear wafting off him as the stranger revealed his face, and Maricus tensed like a frightened goat might temporarily become paralyzed and stunned, very much uneasy about the strange, dead stare in the man’s eyes, the energy radiating off of him nothing short of unnerving. He was the blood witch of whom the innkeeper spoke, Elias apparently his name, there was no doubt about it, and he felt a surge of anger at the prospect of Hassan bringing such a man into their room. It was not quelled even after Elias offered Talyn the promise of healing, partially since, as he looked at his own ankle, the tiniest gap in his flesh where he’d been bitten by the grobos, he had assumed he’d be getting treatment as well.

He watched Talyn shrink away from Elias’ touch, reluctance evident in his wide eyes, his mouth open in quiet shock that he was close, so close, he could kill them both right now, do anything if he truly wanted to, and they’d be powerless to stop him. When the blood witch turned his attention to Maricus, took his chin in his hand and demanded payment, Maricus withered under his gaze, unsure of what to say, what to offer such a man. “Surely, you have anything and everything you could want already!” He whimpered as he shook free of Elias’ grip, rubbing fingers against his jaw where cruel fingers had dug in quick and sharp. “Talyn’s blood is enough for any ritual sacrifice, or cannibalism or… whatever it is you witches do, is it not? Leave me be, I’m much more valuable to the world than he’d ever be!” He ignored Talyn’s incredulous stare, and continued pressing his back to the wall as far as he could manage, but Elias still advanced on him anyway, his eyes focused on something that Maricus did not comprehend at first thought. He looked desperately to Hassan, silently begging for his assistance, but Hassan seemed wholly indifferent to his plight, encouraging the witch to take what he wanted as payment.

It wasn’t until Elias’ fingers snagged on the necklace around his throat, craned his neck forward as he tried to drag it back, that he understood. “Blood-drop of Didacus?” He parroted the words dumbly, unsure of what they meant, what the implications were. All he’d ever known of the necklace was that it’d been a gift from his father after one of their particularly long voyages. He’d placed it around Maricus’ neck while telling wildly embellished tales of the place from which he’d plundered it, a place called Issia, which had fallen to ruin over past years, and became ripe with people seeking its many hidden treasures. Maricus hardly bothered to pay attention to him and all his stories, simply marveling at the way the ruby encrusted within it, like a gemstone having been soaked in blood, sparkled in the light, almost an unnatural amount of sheen to it. He’d kept it with him ever since, never thinking any more of it other than the fact that it was pretty, and he thought it made the pale color of his eyes stand out alongside the scarlet hue. He thought he’d hidden it on his person well enough, but Elias was keen, and sniffed it out easily.

“This was from my father, one of the greatest explorers Dernas has ever known. What right should you have to steal it, or say who should be the one to keep it?” Maricus narrowed his eyes, characteristic sharpness edging his tongue, finding the courage to at least attempt to tug away from Elias, despite the witch’s hand holding firm against the chain. “Unhand me, wicked man! My father would have your head mounted on our parlor’s wall for such actions against his only son!” He heard Talyn shouting at him to calm down, have some sense, you’re just as foolish and stupid as he calls you!, but Maricus was stubborn and resistant, until he caught Hassan’s dark eyes glittering from the doorway. There was amusement flickering on his face, but a hardness in the set of his jaw, as though he might throw a knife in warning right then and there, right between his eyes, if Maricus didn’t obey, and fast. Maricus swallowed hard against a lump rising in his throat, his eyes wet as his anxiety over the situation tumbled out of control, trying desperately to maintain his dignity and not crumble under the fear bubbling in his gut.

Will you pay with your own blood instead? Elias’ voice was like that of a hissing bobcat, threatening and dark and causing Maricus to shudder at his wild, imaginative ideas of being bled out over a witch’s bubbling cauldron, throat slit like how the butchers of Dernas slaughtered their hogs and sheep come spring. “I…” It was painful, having to give up something so precious to him, one of the last reminders of his noble belonging. But when he stared into Elias’ eyes, saw one of them flash as red as the jewel that hung around his neck, he couldn’t help but gasp and yelp, practically suffocating underneath the power the man exuded. With a wilted, defeated expression, he reached around to the back of his neck, undoing the chain and allowing it to fall free; he valued the item, but decidedly valued his life more. That did not stop him from giving a harsh look to Talyn, bitterness swirling in his eyes.

bring  me  to  a  healer . — how  easily  this  dernaian  boy  held  those  words  in  his  mouth , with  an  air  of  imprudent  pride . it  nearly  made  him  laugh , the  frightful  reaction  that  maricus  made  as  he  jumped  out  of  the  river  in  sharp  panic . the  injury  would  not  have  been  more  than  a  mere  nick  to  the  skin , an  injury  that  people  of  the  desert  would  merely  laugh  at  before  returning  to  their  work .        ❝  stop  causing  such  a  commotion .  you  should  be  grateful  that  it  did  not  take  off  your  leg  entirely . many  were  not  as  fortunate  as  yourself .❞      he  said , ignoring  the  plea  still  as  he  brought  his  horse  down  along  the  path  down  the  edge  of  the  river . the  fish  were  still  swarming  carefully  in  the  waters , blinking  their  wet , clear  eyes  up   towards , as  if  to  wait  for  the  wrong  step , a  wrong  trip , ——- then  they’d  have  their bellies  full  for  the  next  moons . yet  they  were  right , to  a  certain  degree . they  needed  a  healer  soon , &  talyn  would  be  unable  to  travel  with  the  condition  of  his  leg  worsening .  at  the  mention  of  raphail , his  lips  turned , &  he  made  a  dark  &  long  laughter  that  sounded  through  his  chest  as  he  continued  to  take  his  walk  down  the  path .       ❝  find  raphail .  you  must  both  be  out  of  your  minds . –– are  you  two  aware  of  what  reputation  he  has  in  the  deserts  ? ❞    &  silence  returned  as  an  answer . he  turns , the  dark , sun - burnt  curls  of  his  hair  falling  down  past  his  eyes  as  he  laughed  once  more , shaking  his  head  in  disbelief .        ❝  that  halfling  is  a  murderer .  he  murdered  the  healer  of  callisto  &  murdered  many  more  by  the  names  of  athalos . he  does  not  heal . he  maims . he  kills . he  rules  an  army  of  undead  men . ❞     with  that , the  two  walking  behind  him  seemed  to  fall  silent  .  maricus , of  course ,  always  appeared  to  shut  his  mouth  at  the  face  of  death  or  danger . scoffing , he  turned  his  head  back , &  walked  along , leading  his  horse  towards  the  gates  of  aklopos .  at  his  arrival , the  guards  raised  their  eyebrows  in  question , towards  hassan  first , then  once  more  at  the  stragglers  limping  behind  him  as  well .        ❝  we’re  passing  through . two  nights  at  most  .❞    the  guards  did  not  budge , nor  seemed  to  acknowledge  his  words . &  with  a  rustle , he  flashed  the  sun - pendant  towards  them , to  which  their  faces  soon  froze  in  a  moment  of  horror . the  two  behind  you . they  are  part  of  your  pack  as  well ?  one  asked ,  to  which  he  laughed  once  more  at .   ❝  no , no . do  they  look  as  if  they’re  part  of  us ? —-think  more  along  the  lines  of … prisoners  .❞  he  said , as  he  tucked  the  pendant  back  into  his  pockets .    ❝  so , will  you  let  us  pass  or  not ? ❞

aklopos  was  a  bustling  city , filled  with  merchants  &  foreigners  that  had  stopped  into  the  city  for  trade . moving  through  the  heart  of  the  city , he  snagged  an  apple  from  a  basket  from  a  passing  by  merchant , teeth  biting  through  the  fruit  with  a  crisp  crunch . talyn  appeared  horrified  by  his  actions , but  kept  his  tongue  held .  maricus  on  the  other hand , noted  the  action  immediately .  hey ! you  did  not  pay  for  that ! this is … stealing ! i  thought  you  to  be  a thief , & here   you  are , stealing  right  under  the  eyes  of  silan — but  he  was  soon  silenced  when  he  tossed  spare  apples  back  towards  the  two ,  which  talyn  caught  with  a  dazed  expression  on  his  face .      ❝  eat . if  you  don’t  want  to  starve .❞      &  he  moved  on , noting  the  careful  crunch  of  apples  behind  him  with  a  half - held  grin  on  his  face . they  would  need  to  search  for  an  inn  to  spend  the  night . the  past  weeks  had  been  spent  under  the  moon , tents  settled  carefully  along  the  oasis  found  throughout  the  desert . it  made  travel  faster , but  it  also  meant  danger . they  were  lucky  that  the  baqaris  did  not  sniff  them  out , but  luck  would  not  last  forever .  this  much  he  understood  already . &  there  were  injuries  that  had  to  be  looked  after  as  well ,  talyn  &  his  maimed  leg , who  would  undoubtedly  slow  the  travel  down . 

a  few  feet  ahead , he  caught  the  sign  of  the  inn , & swerved  his  horse  around  to  enter  into  the  dimly  lit  streets  that  led  to  the  entrances  of  the  inn .       ❝  a  night  .❞     he  tossed  out  a  bag  of  coins  to  the  inn -  keeper’s  chest , hopping  down  his  horse  to  shove  the  reins  to  the  stable - boy’s  spread  hands .  perhaps  you  shouldn’t . the  inn - keeper’s  reply  came  back , &  he  turned  to  face  the  inn - keeper , a  hand  half - heartedly  resting  above  his  dagger . the  blood  witch  is  staying  the  night . many  left  in  fears  of  the  red - death … yet  he  paid  for a  moon’s  worth  of  stay  in  this  inn .  the  blood  witch .  that  title  rang  an  ominous  alarm  in  his  head . witches  often  never  meant  good  business . he  thought  of  dietrich , the  witch  known  for  his  mischief  &  trickery  that  left  many  nobles  in  suffering  or  death .  now , a  blood  witch … .  when  he  checked  back  upon  the  two  behind  him ,  they  were  both  wearing  a  still , frozen  look  of  fear .      ❝  a  blood  witch  .❞   he  repeated , &  grinned  brightly , shoving  the  coins  back  into  the  inn - keeper’s  chest .   ❝  perfect . we  stay  the  night .❞   &  he  creaked  the  doors  open  to  the  inn , heading  inside  with  an  air  of  non - chalance . he  only  paused , when  he  realized  that  maricus  &  talyn  were  still standing  frozen  outside .   ❝  well ?  do  you  intend  to  freeze  out  for  the  night ? ❞

So much talk of death! Maricus muttered into the skin of the apple Hassan had gifted him, after having stared wide eyed at the guards who stood like statues at the city gate, eyeing him as they seemed to very clearly recognize that he was not from the desert, his skin too fair, his figure too lean. He was almost shocked they’d asked Hassan if he was part of their sand bandit gang, were they that blind, to think that a limping, scraggly man like Talyn and a dusty, blond and pale man like Maricus might be associated with such criminals? He almost scoffed at the accusation, to be one of them! He would sooner drown in the river with the flesh-hungry fish than join Hassan, he knew that in his heart. But the apple… It was much needed, his stomach decidedly trying to eat itself alive, and while water was nice, something solid in his gut was much better. It was enough to momentarily shush him, as he simply chewed on the juicy flesh of the fruit, eyes wandering at the exotic spices and carpets, fish being butchered right in front of the stalls, jewelry made of fool’s gold and pearls from the riverbeds.

It was all horribly foreign, the smells making his stomach churn, the sounds overwhelming at times, nothing about it as alluring or seductive as the books he’d read said it would be. Merchants, sensing his wealthy stature even behind the dirt and sand caked in his hair, continuously kept trying to shove their goods in his face, speaking in tongues he didn’t understand. It was nauseating, the lot of it all, and he couldn’t wait to find some place to rest, some place to put his head that hopefully did not involve anything other than an actual pillow, although he had his suspicions that might be hard to come by in a place like this.

Hassan’s warnings about this Raphail person rang through his mind, like an annoying church bell that wouldn’t quiet. Something about the stories unnerved him; could people truly be so wicked, as to do the things Hassan claimed he’d done? Making pacts with dark gods, undead armies, murder and maiming and so much godsforsaken death! It made him feel ill the longer he thought about it all, and each time he thought he saw some sort of demonic, hooded figure off in the corner of his vision, he clung to his apple even tighter, thinking he might see the infamous halfling in the distance, sizing him up to turn him into part of his army of zombies. It was so frightening, all of it, and at times Maricus wondered just how well Hassan would be able to keep his promises about keeping him alive, when such evils lurked just around the bend.

The wickedness of this land was even more apparent to him when at last, they came across an inn, a promised land that he wanted nothing more than to rush into, claim the largest bed, and sleep for years and years. That was, until the words “blood witch” were uttered, and Maricus needed none of Talyn or Hassan’s encyclopedia explanations to understand the implications of that. “Are you joking? You expect us to sleep in there, when a blood witch, the word ‘blood’ in the title, sleeps under the same roof? I refuse!”

But Hassan did not seem as though he were going to ever try to be accomodating of what Maricus wanted, and he could see the man’s patience wearing thin ever since his stunt by the river, which to him still felt like a serious injury. He watched as Talyn staggered on shaky legs, the injured one still aching from the journey, into the inn after Hassan, although Maricus refused to budge from his spot in the sand. Talyn had to physically turn around and drag him by the arm across the door’s threshold, and Maricus was complaining the entire time, telling Talyn, “Stop, stoooop, my wound still hurts too, ya know! Unhand me, do you know who it is you place your grubby, disgusting-”

“If Hassan won’t slit your throat, I’m half-minded to do it myself.” Talyn hissed through clenched teeth, squeezing Maricus’ hand so hard the man flinched and whined again, begging to be set free. “If you don’t stop causing a commotion, the blood witch will surely come to see which one of us would be fit to devour! And I would bet anything it would be the loudest, squealing piggy here.” Another squeeze to his hand as Talyn dragged Maricus into the room they’d been given, and as expected, only one bed sat in the corner, as it was a modest room with not much to offer.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be getting to sleep up there,” Maricus frowned and sighed exaggeratedly as he looked longingly at the mattress, and though it looked old and ragged, it was something different than hardwood floor or sand. His body had welts and bruises all over it, from having to subject himself to such uncomfortable positions; but for Hassan to allow him to sleep up there, while he slept on the floor? He’d sooner expect Hassan’s horse to sprout wings like a pegasus in the myths his mother used to read to him.

keep  running  your  mouth . &  he  will  surely  feed  you  to  the  baqaris . talyn  seethed ,  but  his  threats  never  seemed  to  hold  much  effect  on  maricus  himself .  after  all , the  boy  hardly  even  knew  what  a  baqari  was .    ❝  we’re  near .❞        it  was  all  he  said  as  he  stole  minute  glances  behind  at  the  two  figures  stumbling  behind  him , their  faces  matted  darkly  with  sweat  &  sand . talyn’s  leg , maricus  was  right . it  would  do  not  much  good  to  leave  it  as  it  was , &  they  would  need  to  find  a  healer  in  the  city  of  aklopos . if  there  was  even  one  in  the  red  desert . the  desert  was  the  land  of  punishment , a  parched  prison  for  thieves , murderers , & traitors . not  many  healers  of  callisto  would  venture  far  enough  to  heal  those  matted  sickly  with  crime  &  lolling  in  sin  each  night , as  if  they’d  reached  bottom  caverns of  the  cold  hells  of  eurus  himself . what  was  there  to  save  from  those  spurned  by  silan  herself ?  he’d  heard  of  the  legends  of  the  temple  of  callisto , how  the  graduating  healers  would  drop  their  blood  into  the  fountains  of  callisto &  promise  under  the  god  that  they  would  do  no  harm  against  the  realms . those  that  refused , or  held  a  darker  heart  than  their  intentions , would  die  upon  the  spot  with  the  curse  of  pestilence . yet , there  was  the  tale  of  raphail , the  halfling  healer  who  turned  the  fountain  waters  blacker  than  the  night , & disappeared  with  a  storm  of  locusts . he’d  made  a  promise  with  athalos  instead , who  took  him  away  from  the  temple  without  a  hint  of  harm  on  his  breath . some  said  that  the  halfling  healer  was  already  dead , &  some  said  that  he  was  a  walking  dead  man , who  had  already  sacrificed  his  heart  to  athalos . no  matter , there  were  sightings  of  him  in  the  red  desert  , although  the  stories  remained  as  far - fetched  tales  from  the  mouths  of  desperate  beggars  on  the  streets  trading  stories  for  coins .   … … . .  only another mouth to feed, after all, and he offers you nothing, while i offer you everything ! … . he  did  not  respond  any  further  to  the  incessant  nabbing  that  echoed  behind  him , but  only  silently  acknowledged  the  walls  of  aklopos  appearing  hazedly  in  the  distance , shielded  by  the  sand - dusts  that  swirled  lazily  under  the  sun .      ❝  out side  of  aklopos .  you  will  see  the  river .  you’ll  be  allowed  to  rest  before  the  river  enters  into  the  canals  through  the  city .❞    he   said , pointing  ahead  of  him  to  signal  that  their  journey  would  soon  come  to  a  halt .  bring  me  to  the  ports  of  aeryis , maricus  had  told  him  before . there , my  ship  will  be  there . & i  will  be  able  to  return  to  dernas , & you  will  have  your  payment .  aeryis  meant  more  days  of  traveling , as  nights  remained  unfit  for  travels . the  baqaris  were  night  predators , &  were  most  active  under  the  moon - lights  of  angemar . some  said  that  the  baqaris  were  creations  of  the  moon  god  himself , made  to  punish  those  of  the  red  desert , as  well  as  didacus , the  god  of  destruction , who  was  once  punished  to  the  red  desert  himself .  

as  they  reached  towards  the  gates  of  aklopos , he  set  his  horse  to  a  slowing  pace , until  he  finally  stopped  a  short  distance  from  the  sight  of  the  river . the  water  was  clear , shining  cool  &  crystal - like  through  the  desert  heat . most  men  would  rush  towards  the  cool  water  to  submerge  himself , but  those  belonging  to  the  desert  understood  better :  the  carnivorous  flesh - eating  fish  often  liked  to  make  their  nests  in  the  streams , &  this  one  too , was  no  exception .       ❝  do  you  see ?  the  river  is  here , so  go  quench  yourself , little  donkey .❞    he  said , regardless  of  the  knowledge , &  drew  his  horse  closer  to  allow  the  beast  to  lap  against  the  water  .  he  , himself  knelt  closer  to  the  stream  to  fill  the  leather - bag  with  water , &  watched  as  maricus  submerged  his  face  underwater  with  heated  urgency . talyn , on  the  contrarily , seemed  rather  watchful , only  taking  a  few  quick  handfuls  of  water  to  his  face  before  backing  away  with  uncertainty .  this  one  would  certainly  live  longer , he  thought  to himself , as  he  rose  away  from  the  river .  collecting  the  reins  in  with  a  hand , he  turned  away  from  maricus , who  seemed  to  be  already  knee - deep  into  the  water .   ————–     ❝   ah , by  the  way . the  waters  are  breeding  grounds  for  the silver grobos , —-the  locals  call  it  the  flesh - biting ,  man - eating , brute  of  a  fish  .❞   

Maricus had never had water as wonderfully sweet in his life, he’d decided, as he raced toward the river’s edge full tilt, seemingly unable to sate his thirst as he practically dove into the water, ending up to the knee at the deepest area of the river, allowing his feet to cool, the soles of them previously perfectly smooth from never having seen a day of labor in his life, since been burnt and blistered by the sands while they were walking. It reminded him of home, of the ships that would sail into the ports of Dernas, and he would stand in the churning ocean surf as a child, waving at them in excited greeting as they brought imports from faraway lands, pilfered goods from weaker kingdoms, of honeyed wines and candied fruits, gold and precious metals. His father was one such man, who was allowed his fair share of the spoils; he’d allowed Maricus to take a ruby as fat and round as a tangerine from the pile once, and he’d kept it ever since, marveling at its beauty, longing to be a man such as that, who explores and takes as he pleases from the lands.

He was so lost in his relief, unable to remember the last time he’d felt such simple pleasure as simply allowing his limbs to soak in a deliciously cool river as this, that he did not register Hassan’s nonchalant words at first, nor did he become as upset as he might usually about the little donkey jabs. “Fish?” He muttered, his eyes closed as he soaked in the water as much as he could, and leant down to cup some into his hands and bring it to his chapped lips and parched mouth. It was then that he saw it: a plump fish with silvery-green scales, staring up at him as if it were glaring, eyes permanently narrowed underneath a sharp brow, odd features for a regular ol fish, which perplexed Maricus.

“Get away, annoying maggot.” He tried to shoo the fish away, but it came even closer to his calf, undeterred. It wasn’t until it opened its mouth that Maricus finally understood what Hassan had said, the thing about brutal, man-devouring fish, the grobos. Its jaws were lined with ultra sharp teeth, rows upon rows of them, and Maricus’ blood went colder than the water. He didn’t think he’d ever screamed so hard in his life, only intensifying as the fish made a move to clamp teeth around Maricus’ ankle. It only managed to nick his skin, but as he bled into the water and scarlet plumes streaked through the water, more fish appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and if he hadn’t jumped free over the river bank back onto land, he would have been nothing but bones in a matter of seconds from the knee down. He continued to scream as one fish became daring enough to leap out of the water just to get another bite at Maricus, and he scrabbled away on his hands and knees. Talyn simply groaned out his irritation at the dramatic display, while Maricus wailed and grabbed at the tiny cut in his skin, the bleeding already having stopped for the most part.

“Ah, ah, my leg!” He cried out, as if he’d been dismembered by the fish. “We need - we need a healer, someone, anyone, help! I’ve been attacked! Savage beasts live in this godsforsaken desert, it’s horrific! How anyone stands it here is beyond me! Can’t even get a damn drink in peace, agh!”

“So when I’m injured, I’m dead weight, but when you’re injured, you need all of Callisto’s healers at your bedside?” Talyn scoffed and crossed his arms, rolling his arms as Maricus continued to flail. “If you don’t stop, the Black Scorpion will have your head next, and it’ll be much worse than a damn papercut of a wound like this!” He glanced at Hassan as he spoke, wariness edging his voice. He despised Maricus, for all his screaming and acting worse than a child; if anyone was to get them killed, it would be Maricus, long before the baqaris had anything to do with it.

“He, with all his idiocy, does have a small point, though…” Talyn said, wincing as he attempted to kneel down and examine Maricus’ wound, although it could hardly be considered a wound as he looked at it, trying to shush his annoying companion’s pathetic whimpering by reassuring him that he would, in fact, live to see another day. “I’m much worse off than him, I don’t know how much longer I can keep going -” A look of fear passed across his expression, as he averted his eyes quickly from the place he knew Hassan kept his weaponry. The idea of him killing him off right here and now, like a lame farm animal, was causing his heart to stammer frantically. “Do you suppose - uhm, there’s a healer, somewhere in this city? Or if you have any knowledge of the matter?” He paused, thinking over his own catalogue of knowledge, and a shudder seemed to pass through him. “I have heard tales of the healer Raphail lurking here, in the desert - I’d prefer to avoid him, knowing what I know of him…”

DERNAS , &  its promises  of  gold  &  orange - blossoms . —–tales  told  stories  of  the  land’s  rich , flowing  rivers  with  water  sweeter  than  fig - wine , &  silan’s  sun  showering  the  land  bountifully  in  her  golden - rays . every  thief’s  dream , that  was  dernas . this  was  the  promise  that  maricus  dangled  above  his  head , like  a  carrot  tied  to  a  stick  above  a  mule’s  head : save me . save  me , & my  parents  will  pay  you  greatly . any  known  man  of  dernas  will  save  me  if  they  knew  who  i  was  there .  it  was  a  pathetic  plea  conjured  up  by  the  tongues  of  a  craven , but  it  was  known ,  that  every  man  was  a  craven  under  the  captives  of  the  sand  bandits . but  he  had  saved  the  boy , as  well  as  his  injured  companion .  however , unlike  his  companion , the  boy , maricus , never  quite  understood  the  laws  of  the  desert .        ——-❝   you  die  here , brithia , &  i  will  chase  you  to  the  underworlds  of  eurus  myself  &  hang  you  by   your  own  innards  in  front  of  him  .❞       &  there  it  was , the  appalled  expression  wavering  in  maricu’s  expression . it  was  amusing , – but  only  to  a  point .     ❝   there  is  a  river  that  runs  through  the  city  of  aklopos . the  water  will  be  safe  to  drink  there .❞       he  said , ignoring  the  pleading  look  wetting  into  maricus’  eyes  at  the  sight  of  his  water - bag  tied  to  the  sash  of  his  waist .     ❝   but   until  then , you  will  not  die .  are  we  clear on  this ? you  promised  me  dernas , &  i  will get  it .❞       a  stern  jab  against  his  chest  with  the  dull - end  of  his  dagger  seemed  to  shut  the boy  up , &  soon , his  lips  fell  back  into  a  light  grin  at  the  reaction . do  this , do  that , it  was  evident  to  the  naked  eyes  that  maricus  was  the  son  of  a  rich  man , spoiled  rotten &  sweet  by  the  honeyed  - wines  of  dernas . &  hassan  took  special  pleasure  in  terrifying  characters  such  as  maricus . ahead  of  him , his  horse  pawed  at  the  sand  impatiently , raising  her  head  tiredly  towards  the  sun . the  air  was  getting  warmer , despite  it  being  early  hours  of  the  day . &  soon , silan’s  sun  would  be  gleam  bright  down  against  the  realms , scorching  the  sands  to  its  red , blood - dark  color . they  would  have  to  make  their  travels  soon , to  reach  aklopos  in  time  before  the  sun - set . returning  his  dagger  sharply  back  to  its  sheathe , he  placed  an  arm  around  maricus’  shoulder , pointing  towards  the  sun  with  one  finger .    ❝   do  you  see ?  soon , silan  will  be  plaguing  the  desert  again  with  her  light . if  we  don’t  leave  soon , you  &  i , we’ll  both  die  here . —–so  go  wake  your  fool  of  a  friend . we  set  out  now . ❞   &  he  noted  that  maricus  was  remaining  still , fidgeting  stubbornly  over  the  sands  as  he  refused  to  answer . a  clap  against  his  shoulder  would  send  him  off , he  decided , &  perhaps  a  small  word  of  encouragement  as  well .      ❝  that  was  an  order  ,  little  donkey  . if  we  do  not  make  it  to  the  city , i’ll  drink  your  blood  &  feed  your  body  to  the  baqaris.❞

“I-Hey, I resent...! Uhm, hm...” Maricus’s mind went into a state of numbness, knees and thighs trembling when the dagger was pressed into his chest, right up against the quivering pulse of his heart, which was wavering with dehydration and now the adrenaline produced by his sudden fear. It was difficult, trying to maintain some sense of pride before this man that made every muscle and bone in his body want to cower away from his frightening eyes, the way he would smile one moment but breathe curses and threats of torture for all eternity in the same instant. Something about the idea of not even finding peace in death, having Hassan chase him all the way to the Underworld just so he may draw the torment out even further, sent shivers down his spine in spite of the horrific heat bearing down on him. He was afraid, and yet, his chest burned with the indignity of it all, having to take orders from a man who would have been the punchline at a Dernasian dinner party: something something filthy desert dweller, something something they’re all rotten to the core, all talk and no action, not real men, the scoundrels. They deserve to rot under Silan’s life giving, and life destroying sun.

But now, Maricus was beginning to find fault in the jokes; Hassan seemed nothing but decisive action. He’d seen them with his own eyes, after all, the corpses of the people he’d ruthlessly slaughtered in the marketplace during his first week. He knew Hassan was not just holding onto those weapons, poison vials and knives, for simply the show of it, like Maricus knew some noblemen of Dernas to do, their blades never having seen the slew of battle, but merely put on display to swoon some court ladies into their perfectly unscathed arms.

Brithia, the word was so foreign to Maricus’s mind, rolling strange off of Hassan’s tongue, but when he recognized its meaning, having his shoulder smacked as he was thrust forward, being ordered around and called such a degrading nickname as little donkey, his face burned hotter than the sun might have scorched it, this heat coming internally, as he felt a loathing, blossoming anger festering in his gut. He was never the one taking orders, always dishing them out, never choosing to do something that did not please him. Now, to have to be literally pushed around by a desert dweller, it brought great shame into his heart, and a sharpness rising in his tongue he couldn’t shake off.

As they trudged along, painfully slow for Maricus’s standards with Talyn falling behind often, unable to adjust to walking in such a taxing terrain. Maricus himself was feeling an awful burn in his legs, and he envied Hassan, being way up on horseback while the two of them were half-running to keep up with him, lest they be lost in the desert. Never in his life had he been the one running after the horse, like a lowly stableboy. “Would you truly do as you say? I don’t much care for the thought, bleeding me out like some useless goat, and feed me to the... Baqaris?” He spat out the name awkwardly, and he heard Talyn huff, scolding him for wanting to be an worldly expert adventurer and yet somehow not knowing of the beast that was an infamous desert predator.

“At any rate, I don’t suppose you’d let me up there on your horse, just for a moment’s rest? I’d make it worth your while, anything you’d ask of me would be done when we return to Dernas!” He gave a heaving sigh, attempting to humble himself as much as he could. “Please, my legs, they’re failing me, I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this. At the very least, let us switch off, take turns before we reach the city and its river!” He paused, his nose scrunching up as he heaved, and rolled his eyes in a fit of disgust as he surveyed his clothing, sweat-laden and dust covered, his hair full of sand and debris. “I don’t suppose this river will be suitable to bathe in, as well? If it’s not too much to ask, to be… permitted to bathe, oh highness.”

He didn’t believe it, those words of hopelessness and doubt; he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. That in two weeks’ time, absolutely no one was organizing a search party for him, the esteemed heir to his father’s estate. Surely, there had to be someone?

It wasn’t any easier of an existence when they woke; the midday sun was already approaching its peak, and Maricus’ skin felt scorched under the suffocatingly dry heat of its rays. It was so different in Dernas, where despite the seemingly eternal sunshine, there was at least refuge to turn to, pools to swim in to cool his body, servants to tend to his every need and want (more-so always a want). But here, all he could do was sweat, having to exhaustively trudge behind Hassan at the markets while he watched him barter for goods, occasionally steal the rare fruit from a passing cart, chat up some people who annoyedly swatted him away as though he were a desert gnat. Maricus’ mouth ached for water, food, some relief from the weather, unable to stand it, the burning of his feet in the unforgiving sand, the hotness of the air causing his lungs to feel as though they were burning up, internal organs consumed by a wildfire.

“Hey!” Maricus shouted at Hassan, crossing his arms over his chest, stamping a foot in the sand and causing a cloud of particles to swirl in the air. “If it’s not too much trouble,” There was attitude to his tone, one that Talyn had already warned him to avoid using, but Maricus couldn’t help it; the routine came as easily as breathing to him, a man who had always gotten everything he wanted just by asking, or rather, demanding.

He was not quite accustomed to the ways of politeness, and this was an unfortunate crash course in the matter, one that he was not adjusting to very well. “I need some water, ‘else I’m going to die right here in the sand. Is that what you want? Your valuable captive to wither away as a husk?” He felt Talyn tugging on his arm, trying to plead with him to shut up, but he still stared Hassan down. “You get none of those riches I promised if I’m to die, remember!”