The boar bristle brush scraped against the heavy wool of Darius’ tunic, pulling up dust and hair. He let it fall to the ground. Nearby, he could hear Sentia beating a shawl like it had personally offended her. If it’s Dad’s coat, then maybe it did.

Once the fabric looked clean, Darius took a rag that had been soaking in a bowl of clear liquid and began wetting the fiber. The vaporous, pungent scent of frankincense and alcohol wafted upwards, forcing him to cover his nose. It was like a silver mist that floated from the tunic, twisting in the air into circles. It made Darius think of the naked tails of scurrying mice.

“Flee,” said a clear, powerful voice. “Do not stay here longer than the turning of night to dawn, and from dawn to night,”

Darius spun around, not recognizing the voice. A boy who looked to be the same age as Lothar stood at the entrance to the garden. His hair was the color and texture of a lion’s mane, and his tunic looked to be made of spun gold. Slung across his back and reflecting the sun in such a way that Darius couldn’t quite make out any other of the boy’s features was a bow made of pure silver.

Sentia was nowhere to be found.

“Who are you?”

“I am the light, he of the silver bow,”

“I see that, but what is your name?”

“I am song, that which the seer-doctor sings,” said the boy, continuing to answer the question in a riddle, “I am plague, brought by my golden arrows. I am the sun, whose light and warmth grow grain, and the rats that bring sickness, death, and bane. Now heed my words; flee, else your death you bring,”

“If you will not tell me your name, then you must be an evil spirit! Identify yourself, or leave!” said Darius, feeling his fear grow stronger. He picked up the brush, inspecting it to determine if it could make a good weapon, should the need arise. Maybe if I tuck in my fingers, thought Darius, moving the five digits so that they would not be injured, before adjusting the grip of his thumb. Five… I don’t have five fingers. I have four.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Through the painfully bright sunlight bouncing off his bow, Darius could see the boy tap his foot like he was annoyed. From the ground where he stepped, grew the sapling of a laurel tree. “There are many answers to your question. Before your people first walked through mirrors, I was Phoebus, he of the prophets. I am of the white mice, Smintheus,”

“Smintheus?” repeated Darius. The name felt familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He moved on, remembering that Sentia had disappeared. “Where’s Sentia? What did you do with her?”

“Abrexta prayed to me; I set her free. Luter’s Island awaits; her destiny,” said Smintheus, holding out his hand. “Flee, so that you will live. Or stay and die.”

“I don’t understand,”

Suddenly, Darius was no longer in the home’s garden. He was sinking in ash high on a mountain. In the distance, Bantine sank into the earth. An avalanche of debris plummeted from her side, destroying everything in its path, including the Temple of Selene. Selene’s temple, right… Mt. Bantine erupted. Why was I washing my clothes? Was it the ash?

“I thought- But Bantine just erupted,”

“Bantine’s eruption is not over yet,”

“I can’t leave! Emmory is too sick to move, and I need to find my father,” said Darius, frustrated. “Do you know where he is?”

Smintheus flared his nostrils, growing impatient, “Very well; he is beneath Beacon Rock. There, my sister’s child has been kept in chains. Amadean plans an unholy spell; a bloody sacrifice to bind a god. Bantine a slave; like a shark leashed with silk. Stop this madness, and your friend I will heal. But a warning before I leave this dream; you cannot save someone from their own pride,”

“Your sister’s child?”

“Wake up,” said Smintheus, urgently. “Wake up now. Enough time has already been wasted.”

Smintheus moved and Darius opened his eyes. He saw a gray sky above him that pale light struggled to break. Tiny particles of ash hung in the air, barely moved. Dozens of black crows screamed, swooping and mobbing an offending presence that Darius couldn’t see. Fabien was next to him, deep in sleep and snoring softly.

A rat squeaked loudly. It jumped on Fabien’s arm, looking at Darius as if daring him to do something.

Darius tried, but he was frozen. It was as if chains had been bound to his arms, keeping him from moving. Go away! He wanted to shout, but his throat was paralyzed. Go away! Leave Fabien alone!

The rat jumped onto Darius, standing on his chest like a lead weight. It morphed, turning into a crow, only it was pure white, like its black feathers had been coated with thick lead paint.

It pecked him. The beak pierced through the wool of his tunic, straight into the flesh of his chest. Blood oozed from the crows beak as it lifted its head, painting its pure white head scarlet. A piece of flesh hung from its beak.

Darius screamed, sitting up with a jolt and scrambling to attack the crow.

But it was gone. The crow vanished, like a blinding mirage sent from a dream.