“WHAT IN THE ABYSMAL DEPTHS DO YOU MEAN IT WAS NOT PERMISSIBLE TO RECLAIM HER FROM THAT PATHETIC TOWN? WAS THAT NOT THE OBJECTIVE OF YOUR MISSION?” A voice, guttural and laced with fury, erupted from the heart of a strange-looking, grotesque forest. Its trees, gnarled and monstrous, dripped with an unnatural luminescence, casting long, skeletal shadows.
“YOU FAIL TO ANTICIPATE THE THREAT HE POSED,” hissed a voice, softer yet no less chilling, undeniably the same demoness that had tormented Jaxith after the manticore's demise. The two figures weren’t visible, it was just their voices echoing through the forest.
“FROM HIM? I WOULD UNDERSTAND HIM TO BE A THREAT AGAINST THOSE ZEALOTICAL MORTALS, BUT US? HOW COULD A MERE HUMAN DARE DEFY US?” the enraged voice boomed.
“I DID NOT FAIL. I WOULD SACRIFICE ANYTHING TO FREE OUR ELDER BROTHER. IT WAS THE HUNTER’S AROMA, NOT HIS TRIVIAL RESISTANCE, THAT CONCERNED ME,” the demoness retorted, her voice a venomous caress.
‘HIS AROMA?’ the enraged demon echoed, a note of suspicion creeping into its voice.
“YES. HIS AROMA WAS… FAMILIAR,” the demoness hissed, her voice trailing off ominously.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY ‘FAMILIAR’?! DID YOU NOT STATE THAT HE IS MERELY HUMAN?” Roared the enraged demon.
“HE IS INDEED HUMAN, YET THERE WAS AN UNUSUAL PECULIARITY ABOUT HIM. YOU ARE WELL AWARE OF THE ACUITY OF MY SENSES. I DISPATCHED THAT GROTESQUE MANTICORE TO LIE IN WAIT FOR THE GIRL IN THAT WRETCHED HAMLET, UNWILLING TO RISK MY OWN PRESENCE. I ANTICIPATED AN ESCORT, BUT I DID NOT FORESEE THIS… THIS ANOMALY. IT WAS THEN THAT I FIRST DETECTED HIS… ESSENCE. AND I ASSURE YOU, IT IS NOT A SCENT TO BE DISMISSED LIGHTLY. SHOULD I ENGAGE HIM IN THE DEPTHS OF THAT ACCURSED FOREST, HIS DEMISE WOULD NOT BE SWIFT OR CERTAIN, AND I WOULD JEOPARDIZE EVERYTHING. A SIMILAR FATE AWAITS SHOULD I ATTEMPT TO ABDUCT THE GIRL. I EVEN ASSAILED HIM WITH THE FULL FORCE OF MY TOXIC MIND, A TORMENT CAPABLE OF DRIVING THE MOST RESOLUTE SOUL TO MADNESS, YET HE REMAINED UNBROKEN. HE DID NOT SUCCUMB, NOR DID HE INFLICT HARM UPON OTHERS THROUGH THE DELUSIONS I WROUGHT. YOU KNOW THE POTENCY OF THAT AFFLICTION, ITS ABILITY TO SHATTER THE MIND IN AN INSTANT. YET HE ENDURED. AND UNTIL THEY FLED THAT ACCURSED MANSION, THEY REMAINED UNHARMED, THOUGH I MAINTAINED A WATCHFUL EYE FROM AFAR. BUT AS I HAVE PREVIOUSLY STATED, I WAS LOTH TO RISK ALL BEFORE ASCERTAINING HIS IDENTITY. WHAT EXPLAINS THIS… THIS RESILIENCE? WHAT WAS THE NATURE OF THAT… AURA… THAT I SENSED EMANATING FROM HIM?” Hissed the female demoness.
“WHAT AURA? WE LOST THEM NOW, WE CAN NO LONGER TRACE HER DUE TO THE DIVINE PROTECTION BESTOWED UPON HER. THIS WAS OUR GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY TO END THIS ETERNITY OF FRUSTRATION! SO ENLIGHTEN ME, WHAT WAS THIS… THIS ANOMALY?” Roared the enraged demon.
“I CANNOT SAY. IT RESONATED WITH SOMETHING… PROFOUND, YET FOR SOME INEXPLICABLE REASON, ITS NATURE REMAINS OBSCURE. BUT IT FELT… FAMILIAR. INDEED, FAMILIAR.” The female demoness hissed, a chilling silence following her words.
“I UNDERSTAND YOUR… CONCERNS. I SHARE YOUR EVERY DESIRE. BUT TRUST ME, AS YOU HAVE ALWAYS DONE. HASTY ACTION WOULD HAVE BEEN FOOLISH. WE HAVE ENDURED FOR EONS. TO JEOPARDIZE ALL THIS FOR A SINGLE IMPULSE WOULD BE A TRAGEDY. SOONER OR LATER, THEY WILL MAKE THEIR MOVE. THEY WILL INEVITABLY ERR. THEN, WE WILL STRIKE FROM THE SHADOWS, UNSEEN AND UNHEARD. UNTIL WE UNRAVEL THE MYSTERY OF THIS… INTERFERENCE. THEN, EITHER HE WILL FALL, OR SHE WILL BE CONSUMED BY HER TRUE-SELF AND SO, SHE WILL DESPERATELY SEEK SALVATION, AND WE KNOW WHAT THE ONLY SALVATION FOR HER IS.” The female demoness’s voice trailed off, the conversation abruptly terminating. The forest, once alive with their venomous discourse, was now eerily silent.
The ensuing morn witnessed a cacophony at Orstone’s bustling marketplace. The sun blazed, while the sonorous whinnying of horses reverberated throughout the vibrant tableau. The hawkers’ voices, a cacophony of entreaty, competed for the attention of potential patrons. Such was the quotidian rhythm of Orstone, a town whose prosperity was inextricably linked to the vibrant commerce that pulsed through its veins.
“Insane! A simple cup for forty gold? That merchant’s an idiot,” Jaxith exclaimed, emerging from a shop with Irene.
“It’s a chalice, Jax, I’ve told you that more than once, and no, he’s not an idiot. He’d likely double that price. Some people collect these for show,” Irene corrected, pride evident in her voice. She’d secured a good sum, handing the sack to Jaxith.
“Here, we still need travel supplies. You keep the money and haggle. I’ll guide you to the best deals,” Irene instructed.
“That’s fine by me, lead the way,” Jaxith said, and they continued walking. However, they quickly noticed several people in the market eyeing them curiously.
“Jax, I’m not comfortable with these stares,” Irene said, her voice laced with worry.
“Relax, they’re either recognizing the girl who robbed the mayor or remembering that we saved them from the scarlet giant,” Jaxith said calmly. “Either way, you shouldn’t worry. I heard the soldiers announce this morning that you’re no longer guilty. The bounty posters are gone, so relax. Besides, we’ll be leaving soon.”
“Okay, but after we get what we need, what then?” Irene asked.
“We go back to Mr. Desmond’s to get my coat. It should be dry by now,” Jaxith replied. “Then we’ll see what horse we can afford. That’s my main concern right now.”
“We’ll manage, I’m sure,” Irene said enthusiastically. “As long as we stick together, nothing will stop us.”
“Yeah, yeah, sticking together will provide us with food and shelter,” Jaxith said sarcastically.
“That’s not what I meant, old man!” Irene pouted. Jaxith let out a faint smirk, then looked at her cautiously. Last night, she had another nightmare similar to the one in the mayor’s mansion. She reacted the same way, and still refused to talk about it.
“Anyway, let’s get what we want now,” Jaxith said, “We need to get out of town before it gets dark so we have time to find a place to camp and build a fire.” They then continued moving through the market.
After purchasing the necessary supplies, Jaxith and Irene arrived at Mr. Desmond’s stable. He noticed them and came out to greet them.
“You’re back! Did you get everything you needed, or was something missing?” Mr. Desmond asked politely.
“No, everything went smoothly,” Jaxith replied. “Irene knows the streets like the back of her hand, even the best merchants.”
“Told you you could count on me,” Irene said proudly.
“That’s perfect,” Mr. Desmond said. “Then I assume you’re ready to depart. Only the horse is missing, right?”
“Exactly,” Jaxith said. “And I apologize if I’m causing any trouble with that, but I truly need it. Not an expensive one, as I told you before, just something manageable.”
“Disregard the cost, simply accompany me; I’ve procured the ideal steed,’ declared Mr. Desmond, leading Jaxith and Irene into the stable. They entered one of the stalls, revealing a stately black stallion with a moderately long mane and luxuriant, furry hooves. His physique was magnificent, his ebony coat gleaming with a lustrous sheen. His countenance, though not youthful, displayed a maturity that exuded wisdom and experience, but at the same time, he doesn’t look old. The stallion was a vision of equine perfection, leaving Jaxith utterly bewildered by the notion of affording such a magnificent creature.
“Behold the magnificent black Legnican stallion, a breed renowned for its rarity and exceptional value throughout Plistura. Its extraordinary strength and endurance stem from its unique lineage, honed by generations of adaptation to the harsh mountainous terrain of Legnica. The muscular development of these steeds is nothing short of perfection, a testament to their evolutionary resilience. Their rigorous environment has endowed them with remarkable immunity to most ailments. This particular stallion has been under my care for approximately two years, and remarkably, he has not succumbed to even the slightest indisposition. The comparatively temperate climate of Vidin is far less demanding than the rugged Legnican highlands. And, of course, one cannot overlook the captivating beauty of these creatures,” Mr. Desmond declared, his voice brimming with passion. Equine husbandry had always been his true vocation, a passion that predated his current professional endeavors.
“Mr. Desmond, I am familiar with this breed, and I recall their exorbitant price. I deeply appreciate your generosity in offering me such a magnificent specimen, but my financial resources are currently quite limited,” Jaxith stated, his concern evident. Irene’s countenance fell upon hearing his words, her admiration for the stallion palpable.
“Jaxith, my boy, who suggested that any monetary compensation was expected? You require a reliable means of transportation, and this is the finest I can provide,” Mr. Desmond assured him, a reassuring smile gracing his lips. Irene’s expression brightened considerably upon hearing this.
“No, Mr. Desmond, this is far too extravagant. I am aware of instances where individuals have paid upwards of a thousand Plistura gold coins for an adult of this breed. I simply cannot accept such a valuable gift,” Jaxith insisted, his reluctance sincere.
“If that will assuage your concerns, then upon your return, simply bring the stallion back to me. Consider it a token of gratitude for your valiant efforts in saving our lives,” Mr. Desmond offered graciously, Irene’s smile widening at the prospect of acquiring the magnificent creature.
“However, I cannot predict the duration of my journey. Unforeseen circumstances may arise,” Jaxith cautioned.
“Then keep him, Jaxith. I discovered this remarkable steed approximately two years ago within the nearby forest, he was about one year old, the very location where you valiantly dispatched the monstrous manticore. I remain perplexed as to how this creature, clearly not indigenous to this region, came to be there. Two days after, a formidable predator emerged from the depths of the forest. As you might surmise, upon its demise, the remains of an adult female horse were discovered within its lair. It appears they were unfortunate casualties of a large-scale equine transport, the mother tragically succumbing to the attack while her son miraculously escaped. And here he stands before us. I never intended to sell this magnificent animal to anyone, but I got a feeling that I was gifted this horse just to give it you now. He is a splendid young stallion, approximately three years of age. What say you?” Mr. Desmond inquired, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Jaxith turned his gaze towards the horse, then to Irene, who nodded enthusiastically in encouragement.
“I suppose I have no alternative but to accept your generous offer,” Jaxith conceded, his gaze fixed upon the magnificent creature.
“Mr. Desmond! What is his name?” Irene inquired eagerly, her enthusiasm irrepressible. The instant Jaxith acquiesced, she hastened to inquire about the stallion’s name, her question catching him slightly off guard.
“Enthusiasm abounds, I see. Well, he remains nameless, leaving the privilege of christening him entirely to you,” Mr. Desmond replied with a chuckle.
“Leave it to me, Jax. I shall find the perfect moniker,” Irene declared, her excitement evident.
“Then it is settled. I shall retrieve him,” Mr. Desmond stated, proceeding towards the stall and unlatching the door. “Come, my fine fellow,” he coaxed, leading the stallion out and handing the reins to Jaxith.
“Become acquainted with your new companion, Jaxith. Fear not, he possesses an exceptionally gentle temperament, much like yourself,” Mr. Desmond observed with a chuckle.
Stolen novel; please report.
Jaxith began to stroke the horse’s velvety coat, eliciting a soft nicker of contentment from the creature.
“Come now, Irene, why do you stand at a distance? Was not your excitement palpable a moment ago?” Jaxith inquired, gently teasing her as she was standing away, looking a bit worried actually?
“Ah, certainly,” Irene exclaimed, startled by her own hesitation. She had become momentarily preoccupied and now approached the stallion with an awkward gait. Jaxith observed her unusual behavior with a perplexed expression. As she drew closer, the horse recoiled, emitting a low whinny, seemingly startled by her presence.
“I noticed this peculiar behavior during our ride to the mayor’s mansion. Why did you not confide in me, Irene?” Jaxith inquired, his tone laced with concern.
“Confide in you about what, Jaxith? Is there something amiss with the stallion?” Mr. Desmond interjected, his gaze fixed on Irene, who now stood with her head bowed, an expression of regret etched on her face.
“It appears that horses possess an innate sensitivity to her demonic nature, a fact she is acutely aware of,” Jaxith explained, his voice grave. “That is undoubtedly the reason for her apprehension.”
“Drop this, Jaxith, we still need a horse, it was a bad idea that I thought something will change this time, I’ll ride behind you like always, they just tension for a bit,” Irene declared, her voice tinged with sadness as she turned to walk away.
“Wait, Irene. We can surely find a solution,” Jaxith urged, his voice firm. Irene paused, then turned to face him.
“What possible solution could there be? They will never allow me to touch them, let alone ride them independently,” Irene retorted, her annoyance evident.
“Then you should have told me about this situation earlier so that I could approach the matter with greater care,” Jaxith remarked.
“Tell you about what, Jaxith? I merely attempted to interact with him, but I assure you, I have made thousands attempts in the past, all to no avail. Please, do not raise my expectations,” Irene retorted, her annoyance evident in her tone.
“Simply follow my instructions, will you?” Jaxith insisted, his voice firm. Irene met his gaze for a fleeting moment before conceding with a weary sigh.
“Fine, let’s see what you have in mind,” she acquiesced.
“Now, tell me, was his reaction consistent with your experiences with other equines, or were there any distinctive differences?” Jaxith inquired, his tone analytical.
“No I don’t think he’s the same, he’s much calmer, they always run away, he just stepped back and let out a low whinny and now he’s calm again, but still maintaining his distance from me,” Irene explained.
“As one would expect from the stoic black Legnican stallions, they are not easily intimidated. Yet, for this particular steed to remain so composed despite your presence is truly remarkable, given their usual runaway from you, Irene. What are your impressions of him, Mr. Desmond?” Jaxith inquired, his gaze fixed upon the seasoned horseman.
“He possesses an extraordinary equanimity, that much is certain. On the day you valiantly confronted that giant demon, my entire stable erupted in a cacophony of fear. Yet, he remained remarkably serene, gazing placidly at the distant hills through the window of his stall.” Mr. Desmond recounted, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and admiration.
“Excellent. Let us attempt this.” Jaxith declared, gently placing both hands beneath the horse’s ears and initiating a soothing massage at a specific pressure point. The stallion responded with a contented whinny and lowered its head in submission, clearly enjoying the unexpected attention.
“By the gods! What sorcery is this? I have never witnessed such a profound reaction.” Mr. Desmond exclaimed, his astonishment palpable.
“Horses will always surprise you Mr. Desmond, these magnificent creatures possess a delicate nerve plexus located precisely beneath their ears. The black Legnican stallions, in particular, exhibit a pronounced fondness for gentle stimulation of this region. You simply need to identify the exact location and apply pressure with a soothing touch. Now, Irene, approach him cautiously and emulate my actions.” Jaxith instructed calmly, nodding towards the stallion.
“He will surely move away again. I do not think this is the right way, Jaxith.” Irene voiced her apprehension, her gaze fixed upon the horse with a mixture of trepidation and longing.
“Simply proceed with caution and deliberate movements. Do not rush; haste will only exacerbate his anxiety.” Jaxith advised.
Irene heeded his instructions, advancing towards the stallion with measured steps. The horse, seemingly oblivious to her presence, remained engrossed in grazing. Jaxith gently guided one of her hands towards the designated pressure point, then mirroring her actions with his own hand on the opposite ear too.
“Ease your tension, Irene. Avoid any sudden movements that might alarm him. It is crucial to maintain a calm and reassuring presence.” Jaxith soothed, his voice gentle and encouraging. Irene began to relax, her initial apprehension gradually subsiding. The stallion, seemingly sensing her shift in demeanor, raised his head and regarded her with a curious whinny.
“There, there, gentle horse. I mean you no harm. In fact, you are the only horse who has allowed me to touch him." Irene reassured the stallion, her voice soothing and gentle as she continued to massage the sensitive region behind his ears.
“Now, place your hand gently atop his head while simultaneously continuing to caress his ears.” Jaxith instructed calmly. Irene met his gaze, nodded in acknowledgement, and then returned her attention to the stallion. Slowly, she raised her free hand and placed it gently upon the horse’s head, stroking its coat with a gentle touch. The stallion responded with a soft, contented whinny, his eyes half-closed in pleasure. Irene’s smile widened, her disbelief evident.
“By the gods! I have never witnessed such a remarkable display. How, pray tell, did you acquire such knowledge? I have been involved in equine husbandry since my youth.” Mr. Desmond exclaimed, his astonishment palpable.
“My father possessed a stallion of similar temperament when I was a child. He shared this intriguing technique with me.” Jaxith explained, a warm smile gracing his lips as he observed Irene’s growing confidence. She stood beside the stallion, her face illuminated with a genuine smile, gently stroking his coat in silent contentment.
“I understand. Now I presume your departure is imminent,” Mr. Desmond acknowledged, a tinge of sadness evident in his tone.
“Indeed. I cannot linger anymore. I just need my coat, Mr. Desmond,” Jaxith replied.
“Please, allow me a moment to retrieve it, along with the necessary equine accoutrements. Is there anything else you require? I insist.” Mr. Desmond offered.
“No, Mr. Desmond. I am truly grateful for your assistance and your generosity.” Jaxith expressed his sincere appreciation.
“Please, consider it a debt repaid. Incidentally, my wife has prepared a delightful cake, a confection I believe you both will savor. I shall have it wrapped and bring it along with a modest dress for Irene.” Mr. Desmond announced, his words catching Irene off guard. She looked up from where she was gently stroking the stallion, her brow raised in surprise.
“For me?” Irene inquired, her voice laced with disbelief.
“Indeed.” Mr. Desmond confirmed.
“But why? I thought you hate me just as the others.” Irene confessed, her voice tinged with a hint of trepidation.
“Firstly, my initial animosity stemmed from your perceived transgressions. You were, after all, accused of theft. My concerns were purely pragmatic, devoid of any prejudice based on your lineage. However, I also believe in the possibility of redemption. If that esteemed gentleman places his trust in you, then I am inclined to believe you are indeed a woman of good character.” Mr. Desmond explained, his tone surprisingly gentle. Irene paused, her hand momentarily stilling on the horse's coat, visibly surprised by his candid admission. A slow smile began to spread across her face.
“Thank you, Mr. Desmond. I truly appreciate your kind words.” Irene murmured, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. Jaxith observed her with a warm smile, witnessing the genuine happiness radiating from within her.
“Now, I must attend to your departure. By the way, the gown I mentioned was once cherished by my daughter in her youth. I believe it will be a perfect fit for you.” Mr. Desmond remarked before exiting the stable.
After nearly an hour, Jaxith was walking the horse, with Irene riding beside him. They were now out of town.
“I still can’t believe I’m actually riding a horse alone,” Irene exclaimed, “and he’s the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen. By the way, do the black Legnican stallions come in other colors? And is their name due to their origin, or are they all black?”
“They are all black, with furry feet and long hair,” Jaxith replied calmly. “Sometimes a dark brown one appears, but it's rare. Black is the most common.”
“I see,” Irene said. “Thank you for letting me experience this amazing feeling, Jax. I never thought I’d get this close to a horse. Since you appeared, a lot of strange things have happened, but through it all, you’ve always tried to help me. I’m just happy you’re here with me. And you better believe I’ll repay you someday for all your help. Just remember that.”
“Okay, okay, I will,” Jaxith said. “Now get ready, we’re taking the road through the forest. We’ll head west, which will save us time. And camping between the trees is much safer from bandits.”
“Whatever you see,” Irene said enthusiastically, “as long as we have the best horse in history, nothing will stop us.”
“Wasn’t that supposed to be ‘sticking together’?” Jaxith asked sarcastically.
“We’ll add him now,” Irene said proudly.
“Fine,” Jaxith said. “By the way, did you find a name for him?”
“No,” Irene replied, “I’m still thinking of a good one. I’ll understand him first before picking a name that suits his character.”
“As you see,” Jaxith said, “come on, pull his bridle softly to the left to make him turn left.” Irene did as he told her, and they entered the forest.
Five days had elapsed since Jaxith and Irene departed Orstone, their nights spent under the canopy of the stars as they bivouacked. Sustenance was procured through the pursuit of small game, and their journey, for the most part, proceeded without incident. However, the expedition proved less tranquil for Irene. Heeding the counsel of Officer Ronald, Jaxith had resolved to involve Irene in the procurement of sustenance, specifically the capture of wild rabbits. While Irene demonstrated aptitude in the construction of various snare and pitfall traps, a persistent vexation marred her efforts.
“No, I’m not doing it.” Irene shouted, her voice sharp with anger. They had just caught a rabbit, its tiny body entangled in a net of robes. Irene held her dagger aloft, her gaze fixed on Jaxith, who stood beside the struggling creature.
“Irene, we do this to survive,” Jaxith said, his voice calm. “Killing a rabbit won’t turn you into a monster. Tell me, how do you expect to help me slay a manticore when you can’t even bring yourself to kill something as small as this?”
“Those are completely different!” Irene retorted, her lip trembling. “A manticore is a beast, a danger to all. This… this rabbit is innocent.”
“You do know rabbits eat plants, right?” Jaxith asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Irene’s eyes widened. “Of course! But… but plants are different. They don’t feel pain.”
“Plants are living things too, Irene,” Jaxith pointed out gently.
Irene groaned, frustration evident in her voice. “Oh, dammit!” she muttered, turning her gaze away.
“Over the past few days, we’ve been successful in setting traps. We hunt a rabbit every day. I kill it, and then we both – not just me – eat it after skinning and frying. You don’t mind eating them, but you always turn away before I kill it. I thought I could help you overcome this… discomfort by having you snap its neck yourself. If you’re truly afraid, I won’t ask you to do it again.” Jaxith explained calmly, walking closer to Irene. She looked back at him, sighing and lowering her gaze.
“It’s not fear,” Irene confessed, her voice tinged with sadness. “I just… I can’t take its life. The thought of it makes me feel awful, like a monster. I know it sounds strange, but I don’t understand why I can’t do it.”
A moment of silence passed. Then, Jaxith gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him. He was smiling warmly.
“I think I know why,” he said softly.
Irene looked at him, utterly confused.
“Simple,” Jaxith explained, lowering his hand from Irene’s chin. “As I told you before, you’re too kind-hearted. That’s the main reason I decided to help you, if you remember. But seeing that you can’t even bring yourself to kill a simple rabbit, let alone a human who killed all your friends, that was unexpected, even from you.”
“And is that something good?” Irene asked.
“Trust me, it is,” Jaxith said calmly. “I even want you to stay like that. Don’t think about killing anything from now on, young girl, okay? This world is very cruel, and I don’t want your innocence to be corrupted by anything. Preserve that, Irene. Consider it my payment for helping you, alright?”
Irene thought for a moment, then smiled widely and nodded. “I’ll make you proud, Jax, trust me.”
“I’m sure you will,” Jaxith said. “Now, give me the dagger and turn away with the horse for a bit while I take care of the rabbit, just like always.”
Irene handed him the dagger and turned away, leading the horse a short distance. Jaxith then turned back to the rabbit.
On the seventh day, they traversed the final expanse of the verdant expanse. Irene remained mounted, as was her customary practice, while Jaxith proceeded on foot. He assiduously encouraged her horsemanship, affording her ample opportunity to ride, with the intention of fostering a stronger rapport between the equine and the young woman.
“Jaxith, I have an idea to test his intelligence,” Irene said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Irene, he’s intelligent. I’ve known that since I first saw him,” Jaxith declared confidently.
“Just listen to me,” Irene insisted. “I want you to distract him while I hide behind that large rock over there.”
“You know this is childish, right?” Jaxith said, turning to face her.
“Just do it,” Irene demanded, already dismounting her horse.
“This isn’t necessary,” Jaxith protested.
“Don’t be boring,” Irene urged, “Come on, get his attention.” Jaxith sighed, resigned.
“Here, boy,” he said, rubbing the horse’s ears and guiding its head away from Irene. She seized the opportunity, darting towards the large rock.
“Don’t go far, Irene,” Jaxith called after her.
“Don’t worry,” she replied, her voice slightly breathless. “We haven’t encountered any dangerous creatures in six days, unless you consider those rabbits dangerous. Anyway, I’m not going far. It’s just that rock over there.”
Jaxith surveyed his surroundings, then turned his attention to the horse, gently stroking its head. Suddenly, a searing cephalgia erupted, compelling him to clutch his head with his left hand and close his eyes for a fleeting moment. The agony was excruciating, almost unbearable. When he finally reopened his eyes, a disconcerting transformation had occurred – the world around him was enveloped in an ethereal, milky white haze.
The horse remained within his grasp, as if he had inexplicably plunged into a voluminous, amorphous mist that materialized from seemingly nowhere. This, he realized, was no mere illusion conjured by Irene, that’s something else. His discomfort intensified, the cephalgia returning with renewed vigor, forcing him to his knees. A cacophony of voices assailed his mind, a disorienting symphony that threatened to overwhelm him. Then, a profound drowsiness overcame him, and the voices within his head, though still indistinct, became marginally more discernible.
“Jaxith, awaken,” a soft, feminine voice implored. “Won’t you assist your father?”