Arani!
Arani!
A voice called out and stirred Arani from the soothing caress of darkness. It was strange, yet familiar all at once.
Sensations came and went in the dark—ebbing like soft waves on the shoreline.
Muted lights flickered far beyond the shadowy veil.
A whisper she couldn't quite hear tickled against the shell of her ear followed by warm lips against her brow. Both feelings were gone in an instant.
Then, from beyond the darkness of her mind, a strong rough hand reached out and shook Arani on the arm. The physical contact grounded her from the drift of death...or was it sleep?
Was she dreaming? Was every horror she had experienced merely been a nightmare?
Arani shifted and stretched, her limbs heavy and stiff under her cocoon of shadows.
"Arani! Wake, my darling!" a foreign tongue cooed.
Arani felt the hand shake her more vigorously, and she felt the shadows around her solidify as her senses ebbed back into her one by one.
Her sleep heavy eyes fluttered open and she was greeted by the sight of soft moonlight as it painted her darkened bedroom with glowing silver. A cool ocean breeze sighed through open bay windows and tugged gently on gossamer curtains.
An older woman sat on the edge of the bed next to Arani. A knitted blue shawl was draped over her head and shoulders, and she clutched the fabric tight in one strong hand while the other rested on Arani's arm. Hard cheekbones and a broad jaw glowed dreamily in the moonlight as the woman's coarse black hair laid over her shoulder in a simple plait. Individual strands sparkled like stars.
She was breathtakingly beautiful in Arani's eyes—the vision of a goddess.
No, Arani thought. Not a goddess.
"Mama," Arani sighed, her words heavy and slurred. Her vision continued to swim on the edge of consciousness. She felt so tired.
Trista Lockefur, Arani's mother, smiled warmly and ran her fingers through her daughter's disheveled hair.
"My darling," She repeated smoothly in her native tongue, before switching to her heavily accented Parithean. "It is time to go."
Arani tried to sit up, but found she was unable to move. "Go where?"
Her mother's dark eyes glinted with excitement—a look that promised many things to Arani. "To the sea. Come with me to the sea, darling."
A rush of excitement flooded Arani. She loved to go sailing with her mother and—
A cold feeling slithered into her heart.
What about father? She thought to herself.
"Your father is already dead," Trista sang out loud. She hummed dreamily as she reached out to caress Arani's cheek. Her touch was cold. "Do not fret, my darling, we do not belong here. Come back to the sea with me."
A dull ache throbbed in Arani's neck. She tried to speak, but blood filled her throat.
Trista dug her nails into the meat of Arani's cheek and hissed. "Worthless drunkard. If you don't come with me...you will die here."
The moonlight illuminating the older woman's face began to flicker and fade as the room grew warmer. Calm silver light was eaten away by angry red flames.
The air itself grew heavy with heat and Arani's skin blistered painfully as the temperature rapidly climbed. The room felt like the inside of a hot oven.
Arani's heart pounded wildly in her chest. She struggled to leap out of bed and run, but her damn body refused to budge an inch.
All she could do was watch in horror as the image of her mother glided to the open windows. The once sheer curtains, now black, curled around her figure like wild serpents. The moon glowed ominously red behind her and turned the woman's silhouette into a pitch black shadow.
Arani tried to call out to her mother, but her throat seized painfully and blood spilled down her lips.
No, Arani thought. That's not mama...
She knew that Trista Lockefur had disappeared years before her husband's death, and the decimation of Maidensport.
It was as if she knew...
But now, what was once Trista's shadow twisted and grew until it was no longer a woman, but the shadow of a tall black beast that stood on two sharp hooves instead of bare feet. A spiraling black horn grew from between its eyes and scraped against the top of the ceiling as it stalked toward Arani—cloven hooves silent against the burning floor. The shawl around its elongated body billowed into swaths of darkness as it reached out to Arani with long sharp fingers.
Arani choked as the blood solidified in her throat.
The growing fire roared loudly in her ears as it ate away at her childhood home.
Arani!
Spectral hands rose from the flames and seized Arani by the head and neck as their bony fingers scalded her skin and dug under her flesh. It felt as if they were burning into her very mind!
Arani's mouth contorted into a soundless scream.
With a sudden jerk, they forced her to look up at the ceiling where Cari's face appeared out of a curtain of flames—eyes burning red.
"Poor Arani Lockefur," Cari's image cackled. Her freckled face was split into a haunting smile. "You thought you could run from me? You drunken fool."
Arani!
Soft and urgent, her name could be heard clearly above the rising flames.
Who the hell was calling to her?
Panicked, Arani's eyes darted between Cari's face and the shadowy monster that stalked ever closer—blank eyes glowed with a cold white light.
Arani's chest swelled with pain and heat and fear. The overwhelming sensation of the ghostly hands accosting her spilled through her body, and filled her lungs and belly. A burning white hot pain lanced through every vein and scalded hotter than the flames around her.
Cari's face swam closer and she opened her mouth. Black smoke billowed forth, rippling and pulsing with unnatural life. Like a snake made of black velvet it slithered down and forced its way into Arani's own mouth.
Painful memories flooded Arani's mind as smoke and red hot light consumed her entire consciousness. Around her, the room continued to burn away as the flames climbed the walls.
Fire. It was always fire that plagued her fears the most.
It was fire that burned away the home she loved.
Plastered walls cracked from the heat, and heavy wooden beams groaned loudly as the hungry flames weakened their bases.
Arani now stood in the foyer of her home. Before her, was the shaking silhouette of her father as he stood as tall as he could muster. Thin graying hair stuck to his scalp with sweat, and his trembling hands were thrown out wide as a feeble means to protect Arani from the terror before them. She knew well that Leon Lockefur was the kind of man who never had to fight a day in his life.
And yet he stood as if his scrawny frame would protect his precious child from harm.
Next to Arani, Lon lay crumpled awkwardly. His breathing was shallow and his body bleeding and burned.
Fire snatched painfully at their clothes and skin as one of the wooden support beams peeled off from the ceiling and collapsed in a shower of orange sparks behind them.
Arani remembered how she cried out to her father—begging and seizing fistfuls of his nightgown in an attempt to move the man. She begged for him to turn tail and run, that there was nothing worth protecting anymore.
And even though she didn't wish to, Arani remembered the image of her father's second wife laying dead at his feet—the poor woman. She had once been the daughter of a wealthy naval family and had been truly beautiful. But now all that remained of her was a charred ugly husk.
The smell of the burned corpse filled Arani's nose and her stomach churned violently. But before she could wretch, the roaring flames rippled and parted before them—revealing Cari amidst the chaos.
The girl's pale face swam in the rising heat waves. But it wasn't the face of a young woman that Arani had seen in the forest where she died. No, this was the face of a child—a young girl who had yet to face her first cycle.
Cari was barely thirteen years old in this image. Her burning red eyes glared manically at Arani and her family as the young girl walked stiffly through the flames. But unlike everyone else, the fires did not harm Cari. Hot orange tongues licked hungrily at her sickly pale skin, but the very fires she had created could not even warm her. She was like a walking corpse.
No, a voice sighed deeply in Arani's mind. Much worse.
Fear caged Arani's pounding heart like a frightened bird. This was a nightmare she had lived with for years. On the nights when she would find sleep while sober, the same nightmare would slither into her dreams and alight her mind with flames and terror. After years of suffering, Arani had every second ingrained in her mind like an act in a stage play. She knew every part, every character, every action, and every scream from that night.
But Arani could not help but feel as if there was something different about this memory she was being forced to relive—something she could not yet grasp.
Against the bright raging flames, a black shadow outlined Cari's silhouette. A ghoulish smile twisted across her pale lips as she curled her fingers stiffly and clawed at the space in-between them, causing the very air to warp and undulate with life.
The burnt corpse at Lord Lockefur's feet twitched and drew a long and painful breath.
Arani felt the pit of her stomach grow ice cold. She knew what came next, and all she wanted to do was shut her eyes tight and turn away.
But she remained frozen and eyes wide as the husk that was once her stepmother, seized Arani's father by the ankles.
How could she do this? a velvet voice sighed wistfully, echoing Arani's own thoughts.
The Wight moaned and drooled as it clawed its way up to its feet by Lord Lockefur's nightgown.
` Arani watched her father sob uncontrollably as the horrifying creature took his sweaty face in its blistered hands and gently caressed his cheek.
This is all her fault.
The husk smiled at Arani's father with what was left of its burnt lips and when it opened its jaw with a sickening crack, the creature let out a haunting moan as it sank its teeth into the meat of the man's throat.
Arani stood there numbly as the memory of her father's frail cries were quickly reduced to a wet gurgle.
In a feeble attempt to free himself, Lord Lockefur tried to push his undead wife off of him, but the wight proved stronger and dragged the poor man down to the burning hot floor.
Hungry flames quickly enveloped the two, and their bodies were eaten away.
Cari's girlish laugh could be heard over the raging fires, and Arani immediately locked eyes with her—rage pooling into her own gaze.
But Cari simply smiled back at her—eyes burning. "Don't cry, Arani. It's not like the woman was your real mother."
Cari's words drove a white hot spike through Arani's own heart and she curled her fists so tight she felt her knuckles crack.
The shadow outlining Cari flickered as a deeper laugh could be heard underneath her high peals of amusement.
"You killed my father, you horrible witch!" Arani screamed. This wasn't her voice from the nightmarish memory, but instead they were words that had laid festering in her heart for years. "Lord Lockefur was a kind man! He treated you like his own! He loved you!"
But the memory of Cari said nothing in return. Instead, pitch black arms raised up high behind her, and Cari's arms mimicked the movement—a marionette.
In a blink, Cari drifted inches from Arani's face, her hair flickering and swirling like burning tempest, teeth bared as her mouth split into an ugly grin. She seized Arani by the head forcefully, and for such small hands the girl's grip felt as strong as iron.
A heavy dark chuckle filled Arani's mind as black smoke poured from Cari's mouth.
She hated every single one of you, a velvet words coiled in Arani's mind. What a horrible little demon of a child.
Cari dug her fingers into the meat of Arani's cheeks. The contact was scalding hot.
Suddenly the roaring chaos around her was extinguished and both girls were plunged into complete darkness.
The only sound that could be heard was a cold whisper puffed against the back of Arani's neck.
This is all her fault.
Arani blinked back tears as she gazed frightened into Cari's red hot eyes.
Kill her.
Arani's heart tightened in her chest as the thought echoed through her and she recoiled with uncertainty.
She took everything from you. Kill her. The voice was growing more fervent. Arani couldn't tell if it was her own voice or the madness of what felt like an unending nightmare. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as she dug her nails deep into the palms of her shaking hands.
Kill her!
"SHUT UP!" Arani finally snapped and drew her fist back—muscles coiled tight with fear and anger. With an explosion of adrenaline she shot all the energy forward into one hard punch. She felt her knuckle connect with Cari's nose, and she felt the sharp snap of the girl's button nose breaking under the weight of the blow.
The burning image of Cari screamed in pain and burst into a shower of embers, leaving Arani alone in the cold darkness.
For a moment she floated weightless, until she was seized once again by strong hands.
Arani screamed and drew her fist back once again to—
"Arani!" An old thunderous voice rang in her ears and her eyes snapped open.
Arani found herself bundled with soft knitted blankets in a large wicker nest filled with colorful plush pillows. Gentle candlelight washed across the cool stone walls of a small room she had never seen before and around her various crystals and prisms were scattered near the nest. On a dark wooden dresser, Arani's bloodied clothes were dumped in a heap next to equally bloodied bandages and a bowl of smoldering herbs. The heavy smoke curled lazily from the simple bronze bowl and filled the room with an earthy scent.
A withered old man with a cloudy beard and startling lilac eyes sat across the room on a small stool watching Arani with concern. Meanwhile on the floor next to him, Cari thrashed and clutched at her bleeding nose, cursing angrily.
The old man hardly appeared worried over Cari's current state. Instead, his lips twitched up into a tired smile and he sighed in relief. "You have returned to the living. Praise the gods."
Arani tried to speak, but a hot knife of pain lanced up her throat and all she could do was wheeze painfully in response. She winced and grabbed at her neck, but pulled her hand away when she touched something cold and sticky and...green?
A grainy pulp stuck to Arani's fingertips as she rubbed them together in question. It looked similar to a healing salve Teal would make back in the Dragon's Den, although this concoction didn't smell like strong liquor.
The old man remained seated and merely looked at Arani sympathetically. "I am sorry, my dear, but you are still healing from your wounds. Please do your best to take it easy."
He then glanced down at Cari, unbothered that she continued to roll on the floor in pain. "Cari, don't be rude. Please go make your friend some tea for her throat."
An ugly feeling curdled deep in Arani's belly at the word, like she had just smelled spoiled food and she was going to be violently ill.
Cari shared the same look of disgust and quickly scrambled to her feet scowling behind a clenched fist. Blood still dribbled through her fingers and onto the floor.
"She is not my friend!" she spat angrily.
The old man turned his lilac gaze onto Cari and the girl flinched back as if he had physically slapped her.
"Please go make your friend some tea for her throat," he repeated calmly.
"Yes, Grand Mage," Cari mumbled curtly. With her eyes downcast she retreated out of the room and slammed the heavy wooden door behind her.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The old man sighed and pulled at his beard worriedly. "Do forgive her. Cari has been...rather troubled as of late."
Arani's throat tightened and throbbed as she tried to force a retort, but all that came forth was a gargled squeak. To compensate for her current handicap, Arani elected to roll her eyes sarcastically.
A deep laugh rumbled in the old man's chest like thunder. "I understand, my dear. It's quite the understatement, considering your past with her."
Arani shot the man a withering look. No shit, grandpa.
The old man shrugged off the hostile gaze and rose from his seat to pace about the room. "Well, no matter your relationship with Cari now, she did save you."
Arani pursed her lips in doubt.
But the old man continued to prattle on as he lightly stepped around the prisms. "You are quite fortunate. It isn't every day that someone comes back from the dead."
The air was sucked out of Arani's lungs and she could feel that terrible cold creeping back under her skin.
I...died?
Arani's mind reeled as she fought to push past the terrible nightmare she had been forced to relive. Beneath the cold pulpy salve, she could feel a wound on her neck throbbing painfully.
Bright midday sun flashed in the back of her mind as she remembered an expanse of blue sky filling her vision. Then a bone white axe stained with blood—her blood—came arcing down to cleave into her flesh.
Arani touched her neck once again and she stared blankly at the oozing green that coated her fingertips.
Green...like the forest.
And from within the blur of green, Arani had seen a fiery plume of hair swirling. Wild brown eyes glared out at her.
Then she remembered Farren's piercing blue eyes—wide and desperate. His handsome face had been pulled into a bloody snarl as a Drak'Aag took hold of him. His scream echoed in Arani's mind and panic seized her.
"Where is Farren?" Arani forced herself to say. The inside of her throat felt as if it had been coated with jagged shards of glass. Her entire mouth tasted like blood.
The old man raise his wiry brows in surprise. "Please don't strain yourself—
"Where am I?" Arani growled. Her eyes darted warily around the room, looking for a means to defend herself and if there were any clues that Farren had been brought to the same place as her—that he was alive and safe.
The old man gave a resigned sigh and held his hands up as a sign of peace. "You have been brought to a hidden sanctuary...for mages and wayward souls." He straightened his silken robes and puffed his chest out slightly. "I am Grand Mage Merthandelus. I am the caretaker of this place."
Arani stared blankly at him as the weight of his words were lost on her.
Merthandelus realized this and fumbled awkwardly as he tried to form a coherent explanation. "Ah, well you see...actually Sanctuary it is ah—
The door swung open again, and a small child, no older than six, with bobbed black hair and dark eyes kicked the wooden door open. They were dressed in clean white robes and held up a wooden tray that looked much too heavy for them. Balanced atop of the tray, was a mug of piping hot tea and a large bowl of sliced honeydew melon.
Merthandelus made no motion to help the child, and merely watched warily as they teetered across the room.
Thankfully, the tray made it into Arani's lap without incident and the small child clambered into the nest of pillows next to her. They grabbed the mug of tea in both hands—red and white flowers painted delicately across the baked clay—and almost forcefully shove the steaming drink into Arani's nose.
"Drink it."
Arani narrowed her eyes at the tea and looked warily at the child. "What the hell is this?"
They scoffed and leered back at her. A startling intelligence could be seen behind their dark eyes.
"Poison. Obviously."
"Taka!" Merthandelus blustered and folded his arms into his robes with a disapproving look.
The cheeky little brat stuck their tongue out in response to their elder before offering Arani the mug again.
With an indignant huff, she grabbed the mug from Taka. The warmth of the tea seeping through the painted clay was a pleasant and welcome sensation against Arani's calloused palms.
Carefully, she brought the hot drink to her lips. As expected, the hot water burned her tongue, but the pain was quickly soothed by a rush of strong herbal flavor overpowering her senses. No longer saddled with the fear of burning herself, Arani drank deeper.
The tea held a sharp bite of mint, paired with something sweet and flowery—hibiscus? Rosehip?
The taste was indescribably and completely eluded Arani's knowledge.
The heat of the tea slowly worked its way down and bloomed through Arani's chest. The throbbing pain she had felt in her throat faded in a gentle wave and warmth began to nest in her tired and battered body.
Arani coughed in surprise and looked down at her drink incredulously. With her throat soothed, she found it was much easier to speak. "What the hell is this?"
Taka rolled their eyes and opened their mouth to snap back, but Merthandelus quickly cut them off with an annoyed harrumph. "It was an herbal concoction meant to revitalize you. Healing magic can be rather taxing on both the healer and the wounded party since it requires the combined energy of both in order for the spell to succeed."
"Magic?" Arani scoffed disdainfully. "Was it your magic then that brought me back from the dead?"
The old man's lip twitched and his eyes darted about before choosing to focus on a stout quartz prism that sat on a dark wooden chest of drawers. "N-No I could do no such thing! No mage has ever been capable of performing such a miraculous feat!"
"Then who did? What the hell am I doing here?!" Arani snapped. "And where is Farren?!"
The image of Farren bleeding on the forest floor caused Arani's chest to seize in panic, and she threw back the knitted blankets that cocooned her.
Taka yelped as they and their tray were nearly toppled over as Arani got to her feet.
The room felt far colder against her bare skin than she anticipated, but she advanced angrily on Merthandelus regardless, who stumbled backwards with his hands raised to protect himself.
"When the Drak'Aag attacked there was a man with me, an archer, big, with blond hair and blue eyes! He had been wounded as well! Did you bring him here too?!" Arani yelled.
The poor old man stammered frantically as he stared frightfully up at the ceiling. "It was not I who brought you here!"
"Then who did?!"
"Cari was the one who dragged your dead butt here," little Taka piped up from the nest.
Arani whipped around to face the child. "What?"
Taka merely shrugged and picked at the cuts of melon in the bowl they held. After a few seconds of contemplation they plucked a sizeable piece out and popped it into their mouth. "Did you lose your hearing as well as your life? I said that Cari brought you here. Also I may have seen someone that looks like your Farren."
Relief rushed through Arani like a tired sigh, and for a moment she was certain her legs would be unable to hold her up as she took a wobbly step forward to steady herself.
"Where is he?" Arani demanded, but there was hardly any heat behind her words anymore.
With a bored expression, Taka grabbed another cube of melon to nibble on and dropped the rest of the bowl on the floor, the ceramic shattering loudly and bits of green fruit scattered on the stone.
"I'll take you to him," Taka grinned. "But only if you put a shirt on first."
Without a second thought, Arani grabbed her soiled and bloodied clothes off of the dresser and began dressing.
A hint of panic flashed in Merthandelus' lilac eyes and he moved to block the door.
"But it's almost sunrise!" He protested. His tone was far too tense to be simply telling the time.
Taka hopped off the bed and stood before the old man. Their small frame barely came up to Merthandelus' hip but yet the old man flinched away from the child.
"You mustn't," Merthandelus stammered. "Cari said—
"I don't care what that bitch said," Taka growled. "She can't stop me. And neither can you, old man."
Merthandelus' mouth clicked shut and he casted his gaze down at his feet before finally shuffling away from the door.
To Arani, it was a ridiculous sight for a man who was a full sixty years older, scared to death of such a small child.
Taka gave one final sneer at Merthandelus before they padded to the door and pulled it open by the brass knob. Sleek dark hair fanned across their cheeks when they casted a glance over their shoulder at Arani—intelligent dark eyes bore into her. "Are you coming? Or would you rather stay in bed and be bored to death by this dusty old windbag?"
Merthanelus mumbled out a meek apology into his beard and took his place back on his stool to cast wary glances at Taka.
Arani set her jaw and nodded to Taka. "Take me to Farren."
◊ ◊ ◊
Upon leaving the room, Arani discovered that it was only one of many, many rooms hidden inside the twisting halls of a massive temple.
But soon the halls gave way to a grand vestibule, with rounded columns that stood at least a hundred feet high to meet with a ceiling painted with vibrant shades of blues and purples—a dreamy image of the starry heavens. In the middle of swirling mural of stars and moons an open hole in the ceiling allowed a view of the real night sky to be seen. Framing the skylight, oddly enough, was a ring of fat white candles melted upside down into the stone. Below, the floor was a glossy obsidian—polished to the point where the world above reflected pristinely into the dark glittering abyss beneath their feet.
Arani's heavy boots clopped loudly against the stone as they passed through the main hall. Her gaze was quickly drawn by stained-glass windows that stood nearly as high as the columns. Waning moonlight filtered through scenes of a crystalline forest. The still image of a wolf creature with the head of an owl loped through the trees and at its feet springs of water sprang forth. The muted colors of the glass splashed across two marble statues erected in front of the windows—one a woman draped in a cloak of delicate grey feathers. Her heavy lidded eyes were downcast as she clasped a spiral seashell in her hands. The statue next to her, her opposite, was a tall and imposing man with tight curls swirling about him like a wild mane. He glared down angrily and clutched tight in his alabaster claws was a very real, and very beautifully crafted bastard sword. A tiger's pelt was wrapped loosely around his waist.
Together, the statues stood watch over the dark temple as people clothed in white robes laid offerings at their feet and lit candles while whispering silent prayers.
Outside was a stark contrast to the quiet temple Arani and Taka had emerged from.
The temple sat atop a sizeable grassy hill, and below them, a winding cobblestone road stretched out into a small cluster of islands, the largest being a green expanse of trees and farmlands, and the one closest to them was a jumble of narrow white buildings only held together by a maze of bridges and canals.
Crowds of people milled about through the streets as if it was midday rush rather than the early hours of the morning. Arani knew these as the waking hours of sailors and fishermen, yet none of the people she saw appeared to be the sea-faring type—all dressed in pristine robes of silk with gemstones and silver jewelry. A few had crowns of flowers woven into their clean hair.
"Where am I?" Arani whispered to Taka in awe as they descended the hill and joined the bustle of people.
Taka rolled their eyes as if Arani had dared to ask them a stupid question. "Did that old geezer tell you nothing?"
Arani casted a pointed look down at Taka. "He called this place a sanctuary to mages and wayward souls...whatever that means."
"That's exactly what it means stupid," Taka snipped. "Sanctuary was a hidden refuge for mages like Cari and that old bastard to live freely without persecution for their magic."
"Was?"
Taka kept their attention on the road ahead of them as they came to a bridge that would take them into the more metropolitan parts of the strange sanctuary. "You should ask Cari about it."
Their tone was biting.
But Arani found herself more in awe at the bridge before them. The structure had been woven together by a series of pale tree trunks. The branches arced high over their heads into a canopy of soft pink blossoms. Their petals drifted down gently like snow as Arani and Taka crossed the bridge together.
Sanctuary was right.
As Taka led her through the angled canals and over similarly woven bridges in the pristine city, Arani became overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and complexity of the hidden settlement. She knew that it would be hundreds of years before her Dragon's Den could even begin to look half as grand as Sanctuary.
Dark waters surrounding the city glittered like liquid silver in the pale moonlight. Beyond that there was nothingness. White bricked houses and shops neatly lined along the streets and canals as glass lanterns floated in the air to light the way. Wisp-like orbs of light pulsed from within the bubbles of glass as they drifted along without direction. Every so often, they would chime melodically.
"It's like I stumbled into one of my mother's fairytales..." Arani breathed incredulously. "How is any of this possible? It feels like I'm still dreaming."
"Don't you listen?" Taka huffed in growing annoyance. "City of Mages! Mages use magic! It's a magic city of mages!"
"But magic doesn't exist!" Arani snapped back. The terrible memory of her stepmother's burnt corpse gurgling to life, echoed in the back of Arani's mind and her stomach curled in on itself.
Taka shook their head. "You must be really stupid then. How does someone grow up with a family of mages living under their roof and not believe that magic clearly exists in this world??"
Magic was how Cari took everything from you, Arani found herself thinking. The words slithered through her mind in that dark velvety voice that whispered to her when she had drifted between life and death. The words sent a shiver down Arani’s spine, which caused her to snap her mouth shut and shake the thought from her mind. She decided to focus on following Taka through the city. Where they were taking her, she did not know.
They came to a town square where wooden carts were parked on patches of manicured grass as merchants called out to the passing crowds to look at their wares or try their food.
The divine smell of cinnamon and baked dough filled Arani's nose and her stomach growled hungrily in need.
How long had it been since she had a proper meal? The old man had said she had been out for days...
Suddenly, a tall robust woman with strawberry blonde braids piled atop her head offered a steaming pastry out to Arani. She smiled warmly as the thick sugary icing dribbled down the hot flaky crust of the treat in an almost seductive manner. Arani's mouth instantly watered.
"You must try it!" the woman begged Arani.
But before she could accept the woman's beautiful pastry, Taka tugged sharply on Arani's hand and pulled her forward.
"You don't need it," they growled.
Arani glare down at the brat as she felt heat flush her own cheeks. "Excuse me?!"
"Do you want to see your friend or not?" Taka said cooly and gave Arani another sharp tug on the hand.
Arani chewed the inside of her cheek in agitation, but Taka was right. Food could wait until she knew Farren was alive and safe.
Reluctantly, she allowed Taka to pull her along through the droves of elegantly dressed people.
The sky above them was beginning to pale when they had left the city behind. Arani could now see that across the waters that surrounded them, there were high mountainous walls that enclosed them from all sides.
The road that Taka had lead Arani down was now more dirt than stone as an open sprawl of farmland extended out before them. The houses were still made from the same pristine white bricks but now they sat a little farther from each other, to make room for overgrown gardens of herbs and vegetables.
Even outside of the city, the bustling crowds still persisted in the early hours. Many people could be seen tending to their land or simply standing around and talking pleasantly to one another while they held baskets of freshly picked produce.
Taka stopped abruptly in the middle of the street and Arani nearly plowed into them. A group of passing people behind them parted and walked around with no hint of hesitation or concern.
Arani huffed and crossed her arms at the child. "I thought you were taking me to Farren?"
"In a minute," Taka said quietly. The child looked contemplative as they stared at the ground under their feet.
A wooden cart being pulled by an old mule rattled down the road noisily.
An uneasy feeling coiled in Arani's gut as the first rays of sun slowly began to crest over the rocky walls.
"This spot right here is very special to me," Taka continued in an eerily playful tone. "It's the very first spot the sun hits as it rises."
To Arani, there was nothing special about the sunrise that she could see...until she realized the rattling cart and the clopping of sluggish hooves had stopped.
In fact, a deafening hush had fallen over the world around her, and when she looked up the beautiful sanctuary was gone.
The buzzing crowds of people were gone.
The white bricked buildings and their lush gardens were gone.
Arani realized that she and Taka now stood completely alone in an empty ruin of rot and death. The houses around them were nothing more than blackened skeletons sitting in a field of ash.
A cart sat collapsed and overturned in the middle of the broken road. From beneath the heap of wood, a singular skeletal hand lay outstretched.
The sickening smell of decay assaulted Arani's senses and it took all of her willpower to not double over and wretch on the spot.
Taka let out a high pealing laughter of sheer delight. It was a laugh that chilled Arani to her core—a laugh far too cruel for a child to have.
But the creature that stood in front of Arani was not the child she had known for the past hour. They were still roughly the same size, but now instead of sleek dark hair, a shock of white sat in short thick tufts in between a pair of pointed black fox ears. Sharp amber eyes leered up at Arani as two deep cuts sat just above their rounded cheeks. And while the creature still had a relatively human face, their mouth split into an almost inhumanly wide grin to display their sharp teeth. Twin fox tails—also black with tufts of white—flicked behind Taka in a playful manner as they continued to laugh.
"This is also the spot where Cari killed me."
Arani watched in horror as the soil beneath her feet darkened and began to pool with blood. A cold wave of nausea churned in her stomach as the metallic smell mixed with the already pungent odor of decay.
"W-Where is Farren?" Arani managed to choke out. She tried to mask the fear in her voice but it only made Taka smile wider.
"I lied," Taka cackled. The cuts beneath the demon's eyes fluttered and slowly opened to reveal a second pair of eyes—cold and pitch black. "I don't know where he is. Probably dead for all I care. I lured you out here because I needed somewhere quiet to feast, and your fear is mouthwatering."
The horrible little creature cackled again, all four eyes glinting cruelly, and Arani turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could.
Bolting back into the now dead city was a mistake she instantly regretted. The once fairytale paradise loomed over Arani like a nightmarish labyrinth. The narrow streets felt like they were closing in on her as she ran aimlessly, only guided by her fear and the sight of crumpled bodies decaying in the streets. Taka's pealing laughter echoed far behind her and spurred her to run faster.
Broken bridges and collapsed buildings soon forced Arani into twisting alleyways—the pale morning sun her only source of light.
As she ran, her boot caught on something heavy in the alley and Arani tumbled down hard. A foul putrid smell quickly hit her nose and her stomach lurched violently. Without wanting to look at the body she had tumbled over, Arani worked to dislodge her foot. Her heart hammered fearfully in her chest at the distinct wet crack of bone as her foot came loose, and she quickly scrambled to her feet to keep running.
Arani ran until her lungs burned from exertion and the narrow road she had taken reached a dead end of tall iron bars and a curtain of lush green ivy.
The green foliage was a welcome sight, and possibly the only sign of life left in the desolate city.
Arani gripped the iron bars for support as her entire body trembled with fear and exhaustion. Angry hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she took a shuddering breath but stopped herself before a single sob could escape her.
She was alone in a city where its burned remains reminded her too much of the home she lost, and even worse was she didn't know whether Farren was trapped here with her...or had become a meal for the Drak'Aag.
Hushed lumbering footsteps quickly pulled Arani from her thoughts.
Another living soul? Was it Farren? Or another monster like Taka...
The sound of something shifting in the dark alley behind Arani caused the hair on her neck to rise and immediately she began to scale the fence. As she climbed, she caught a spotty glimpse of blond hair through the leaves.
A feeling of elation rushed through Arani and she quickly pulled herself up and over iron bars.
"Farren you bastard!" she called out desperately. How ready she was to give that stupid archer of hers an earful.
But on her way down, Arani's leg seized with a painful cramp and she dropped like a stone into a waiting rosebush. Stars danced in her eyes and Arani let out a pained groan as she felt the thorns sticking into her like she was an oversized pincushion.
"Are you alright?" A soft voice asked with alarm.
Strong hands were immediately helping Arani to her feet and as she blinked back tears of pain she was greeted with the sight of familiar vibrant blue eyes that looked down at her worriedly.
Relief washed over Arani. "Farren! Thank the gods you—
She blinked again, and quickly realized that the person before her...was not Farren.
No, while the stranger stood as tall as the man, maybe a few inches taller, they were more heavyset than the archer. Their chest was slightly more pronounced and beneath it was a soft protruding belly. Thick muscled arms helped steady Arani as she gaped dumbly up at this stranger that bore a startling resemblance to Farren.
They had the same eyes, same pointed nose, and the same broad jaw...but their cheeks were fuller and marked by strange pocks. And where Farren’s blond hair was long and delicately tied with a ribbon, this person’s blond hair was chopped messily just above their ears.
A dazzling blue opal pendant hung from the stranger's thick neck and sparkled beautifully.
"Who...who are you?" Arani managed to ask, still stunned by their appearance.
The stranger looked down at her, their sheer size intimidating, but their gaze soft and concerned.
"My name is Rikuto...but how do you know my brother's name?"