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Obsidian Wasteland: The Dregs
Chapter Thirty: Cold Grip- Callan

Chapter Thirty: Cold Grip- Callan

Outside the Quarry

Callan held Halari very close and named the rest of the stars that could think of for the next hour. He didn’t know all of their names, but his study of Melokon and the world’s true history in those first days when the Great Dragon arrived had provided some stellar knowledge.

In truth, he spent more time looking down at her than he did at the sky.

“I’ve always wondered what they were called,” Halari said, her head on his shoulder. “Yet another mystery solved thanks to you.”

“Glad I could be of assistance,” he said.

“That was a pretty smooth line on my part, huh?” she asked, turning to grin at him smugly.

“Indeed,” he chuckled, tightening his arm slightly around her waist. “Couldn’t have done better myself.”

Halari sighed happily, then stood and stretched after a few more minutes. “I probably need to get back. Viria’s gonna wonder where we got off to and I don’t feel like putting up with her questions. You coming?”

He couldn’t leave yet. Not with it waiting dark and patient for its turn in the corner of his mind. He’d known what the result of kissing Halari was going to be, but it hadn’t mattered in that moment. The skull’s prison was wide open now, and Callan knew it was something he needed to deal with before rejoining her below.

“I think I might stay for a moment.” He turned a soft smile to her. “I’d like to just keep watching for a little while. I can walk back.”

“Yeah, I figured,” she said, leaning down to kiss him again. “See you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.” Callan watched her go, still humming with a pleasant feeling that her company produced. That sensation disappeared like water on a red hot stovetop the instant her trawler dipped out of sight. Callan braced himself for the skull’s fury, but it simply watched him from deep within, a great sadness to its bearing that made him tremble in shame.

Then it vanished from his mind’s eye.

And reappeared, fully manifested with her old body, to sit right next to him on the stone

No, please! Callan gasped a sharp intake of breath and kept his eyes on the sky, but his fingers started twisting the ring on his hand with a mind of their own.

He didn’t look.

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He didn’t dare look at her.

In the corner of his vision, long and pure red hair trailed forward with the nightly breeze, tempting him to turn his head.

But he didn’t look.

He just kept staring at the stars as tears brewed in his eyes. She slid one icy hand up his arm to hold him with a cold grip at the shoulder; the weight of her own ring pressed into his shirt and burned his flesh underneath.

“Please, go away,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please, don’t do this. I’m so-sorr-” He cut off, unable to say the words because he was not sorry. To be sorry was to regret that wonderful moment with Halari, and he just didn’t, even though he knew what it meant.

“I do want you to be happy again, Cal,” she whispered, her voice that horrible melodious perfection he remembered instead of a chilled, dead hissing. He prayed to Melokon it would just become that again. “I just don’t understand why you’ve left me down there.”

“I didn’t mea— I can’t go ba —” Callan sputtered in agony. What could excuse could he possibly give her? That he was too weak to go down there again? Too terrified of the dark to ever step foot in that cage? Those were paper thin reasons, and she knew it. “Please... stop.”

“It’s so cold down there,” she continued, freezing fingers digging into him with a desperate, fearful strength. “And it’s so dark, Cal. I just want to see the sun again, please, my lo—”

“STOP!” Callan blasted to his feet with a burst of Melokon’s Fire that scorched the surrounding stone, tore the ring off of his finger, then threw it at the ground. Being made of ultimium, it didn’t so much as warp on impact, but sparks did fly as it skipped like a stone on a lake before coming to a rest a few feet away.

She disappeared beside him.

Oh Melokon, forgive me, Callan thought, wiping the tears from his eyes, but they kept coming, disobeying his will to cease so he could gather himself. On unsteady feet, he walked over and picked the adornment off the ground, brushing it off on his pants leg even though it was completely untarnished. He shakily replaced it on his hand, then closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Please, I’ll make it right somehow.”

There was silence for a long moment, so long that he thought there wasn’t going to be a response.

Then she spoke inside his head; her voice bleak and pitiful. “I know you are, Cal, but I need you to show me what I meant to you one last time.” Then, she went quiet, leaving him to the sound of the wind over the barren plains of rock.

Callan wept.

He doubled over and fell to the ground on all fours, and his tears wet the stone below to reflect the stars like little beads of light on the black.

“Halari, I need Halari,” Callan whispered hoarsely. “She can help.” He rose and forced himself to stop the tears from falling, then stumbled back to the Quarry. He moved past the one entry with barely a word, then staggered down the entry ramp, legs shaking with every step.

Just as he was about to cross into the town proper, he caught sight of Halari in a yard, chatting with her sister over a couple of canisters of that alcoholic beverage. She looked perfect, happy, and bright. By the Great Dragon she was beautiful; how could he ruin that?

No, I can’t spoil this for her, Callan thought, turning away before she saw him and came to comfort his pain. She was like a beacon of hope in his despair, but he couldn’t bring himself to tarnish this night for her, despite the moment they’d just shared. It would be selfish.

So, he drifted around the town, skirting the party until he reached the Temple and stumbled into the back entrance like a drunk.

Callan reached his desk and braced himself on its surface, then collapsed into the chair. The dustbunny approached him and, without headbutting for his permission, jumped onto his lap.

They stayed just like for the rest of the night.