Vale wiped the blood from her sword as the rest of the soldiers cleaned up the remnants of their battle. The fight for the castle had been long and taxing, but they had somehow managed to prevail. She had suffered minor injuries, with only a few cuts on her face and dents in her armor. She wondered how Cinris was doing. He had been skeptical of this raid from the beginning, and now that he had been proven right she wasn’t too keen to be around as he chewed Grayson out. He had been like that since they were kids, always desperate to be right. She loved him, but she’d be lying if she said he didn't get on her nerves every now and then.
Vale glanced up from her sword as she heard the gates open. She put the weapon back into its sheath and ducked out from the small wooden stall she was resting in. It was Grayson’s division. Vale let out a sigh of relief; she had never really doubted that Grayson would make it back, but having it confirmed was still a massive weight off of her shoulders.
She walked over with a wave and a smile, but when Grayson’s eyes met hers he didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he took long strides over to her, leaned down, and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Vale was shocked; Grayson had never been the affectionate type, much less someone who would show it so outwardly. Vale hardly came up to his shoulders despite his leaning, but she could still see Cinris’ division walk through the gate. They all hung their heads low, and upon making eye contact with Vale, they would all look away in shame, some would even tear up. She was confused, but slowly she noticed that no matter where she looked, she couldn’t see Cinris. Suddenly, the hug made so much more sense.
“G-Grayson, where’s Cinris?” Vale asked, her voice choked as the reality of the situation began to dawn on her. Grayson didn’t answer verbally, but his arms around her tightened, and that was all the confirmation she needed.
Vale stood still for a moment, unaccepting of the reality in front of her. She tried to remember his face, his voice, but no matter how hard she tried it all felt so distant. She didn’t want to forget his voice. The one that calmed her when she was scared, the one that would talk to her through the night, telling her of his plans for their future. The one that had told her countless times that he loved her.
The sounds of the castle were drowned out as she tried desperately to keep those memories, but as she buried her face into Grayson’s shoulder and broke down, she knew those moments would never bring comfort again.
° ° °
Vale startled awake, tears streaming down her face. She scoffed and wiped her eyes, berating herself for crying over Cinris. He left you. He betrayed you. He doesn’t matter anymore. She repeated that to herself every time she found herself thinking about him, but it never helped. She let out a shaky breath and spurred movement into her tired body.
After Grayson had ordered her to evacuate with the rest of the men, they sped ahead without looking back once. They must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point in the insanity, because Vale couldn’t recognize the road they were on in the slightest; nevertheless, she had ordered that camp be set up. Everyone was exhausted, both physically and mentally, from the storm. People had lost friends, brothers, and even lovers to whatever that beast was.
She could feel the fear bubbling up in her gut just at the thought of it. What was even worse, though, was that she had almost forgotten it. It kept trying to force itself from her thoughts, and everything after it started its assault was a blur.
The sun was high in the sky when Vale stepped out of her tent, not caring to don her armor, but taking her sword. She took a deep breath, reveling in the refreshing petrichor still lingering in the air. A brisk wind blew past, making the cloth of her tent flutter; it was strangely cold today. After a short bout of consideration, she ducked back into her tent and pulled on her old coat. The coat once belonged to Cinris, but when Vale thought he had died she took it. It gave her comfort, even now knowing the truth.
Walking to the road they ended up on, she stumbled across a bleary-eyed soldier slumped in a chair. They looked up at Vale and gave her a tired smile, “Going somewhere, general?” They asked, exhaustion laced in their soft voice. “Just going for a walk to clear my mind, that’s all. If something happens before I get back, Jameson will be in charge in my place,” Vale responded, returning the smile. The Soldier gave a small nod, and Vale walked past.
The fur-lined coat was warm enough to keep her comfortable as the wind picked up, lashing at her athletic frame. It was nice, though. That terrible storm was finally over, and even though it only lasted a few hours it felt like it had been years since she’d seen the sun. The grassy plains seemed to stretch on for eternity, only stopping at the treeline to her right. Every so often a carriage would pass her by, but Grayson and the rest who had stayed behind were nowhere to be seen.
She came to a stop as she heard a commotion in the distance, just beyond the hill she was walking up. As she reached the top, she saw a caravan. One of the wagons they were pulling had lost a wheel, and it seemed as though that startled the horses because they were running wild in the field.
“Need help?” She called out, waving her arm at the merchants struggling to clean up their mess. One of them, a young man, looked up and gave her a weary smile, “That’d certainly be appreciated. If you could just help us lift this so we can refit the wheel, we’d be in your debt,” He said, gesturing to the wagon.
Vale jogged down the hill, coming to a stop next to the wagon. She hooked her hands underneath the old wooden carriage, and after a deep breath, lifted it with help from the others. It wasn’t particularly easy, and she could tell she was doing most of the work, but it was over quickly. She let out an exasperated breath as she released the wagon, wiping sweat from her brow. “Thanks for that,” the young merchant heaved out, back hunched and resting his hands on his knees. With a groan, he pulled himself straight and cracked his back, wincing as he did.
“I have a question, if you wouldn’t mind,” the man asked, causing Vale to realize she had been staring. She was thinking of Cinris. Again. The two looked oddly similar. Her jaw tightened, a bitter taste settling on her tongue.
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“What,” she responded, trying to mask her emotions as best as possible, and mostly succeeding. “Just wanted to know if you’d maybe like to tag along with our little group. We could use someone with your capabilities,” he said, flashing a charming grin at Vale, who smiled softly and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid I have my own duties to attend to,” She said, causing a small frown to flicker across the man's face before disappearing just as fast. “Although, I would like a map if you have one to spare,” Vale added.
The man gave Vale a nod before turning and moving to climb into the back of one of the wagons. As he raised an arm to pull himself up, Vale noticed a brand on the man’s wrist. It depicted a skull with smoke billowing from its eyes and mouth, surrounded by shackles. It made her uneasy, but she couldn’t exactly pin down why.
Vale was dragged from her thoughts as she heard shouting from the wagons at the back. The shouting was quickly silenced, but soon even more panicked voices erupted. Vale put her hand on the hilt of her sword and walked towards the noise when the clashing of steel on steel rang out. She drew her weapon and weaved past the merchants peering to the back to see what was going on, and when she arrived she was met with a grizzly scene.
Two men lay rolling on the ground, clutching shattered limbs and gasping for air from their crushed tracheas. Three more that were already long dead, their heads beat in and dents in their chests. A thick squelching sound came from behind one of the wagons, and as Vale cautiously looked past it she narrowly dodged a swing from a mahogany staff that was coated in crimson.
Almost before she could react, the staff swung back up and she deflected it with a swift swing from her sword. The impact left her sword ringing and shaking in her hand, but she was able to recover in time to swat away the jab that flew at her. Sparks flew as Vale continued to slide each attack off of her blade. Finally, she saw an opening and moved to take advantage, only to realize her mistake too late. She had been baited into this.
A fist cracked against her chest, wrenching the breath from her lungs as the enemy spun, pressed their back against Vale’s, placed their staff under her chin, grabbed the ends, and used that as leverage to throw her. She slammed her into the ground, once again having the air forced from her lungs before she could even recover from the last time.
Her head was spinning and she could hardly see, much less think properly, but she still managed to pull herself to her knees and spin a knife out from her belt to place it at the throat of her attacker as they went in to finish the job. She could hear muffled voices shouting from behind her attacker. She could see two more figures approaching. It was over. But even despite that, Vale couldn’t help a smug grin from spreading across her face. If she had any strength left in her body, she’d have been able to slit her enemy's throat, but a minor victory like this was enough. She might not make it out of here alive, but at least she didn’t go down without a fight.
° ° °
Vale’s whole body ached as her eyes opened slowly. That meant she was still alive, at least. “Just my luck,” she heard a familiar voice grumble out. She sat bolt upright from the cot she was placed in, forgetting her nausea as she swiveled to look where the voice was coming from. It was Cinris.
“You caught Huojin at a bad time. Those men you were with were slavers. A particularly unsavory branch at that. Huojin was in a rage, didn’t recognize you at first. Hell, he hardly recognized me.” Cinris detailed, not making eye contact with Vale. Vale’s hands balled up into fists, scrunching the blankets beneath her. She looked down at her feet, now hanging off of the edge of the cot. How could he talk to her? She could hardly think about him without feeling wave after wave of unwanted emotions, but to talk? After everything? Vale bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
The Prophet let out a deep sigh and wordlessly stood to walk out of the shelter. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you? Why’d you even bother staying this long? Is running around with strangers that much better than being with me?” Vale asked, barely keeping her voice steady as cries threatened to tear from her throat. Cinris stopped at the opening of the tent, fists clenched and mouth open, a reply sitting on the tip of his tongue. But he shut his mouth, choosing a different response as he looked over his shoulder at her.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, a subtle yet present hopefulness lacing the words as they fell from his mouth, but when Vale didn’t respond, he let out another sigh and pushed through the tent flaps into the night air. Vale sat still, cursing herself for not being able to speak at that moment. To tell him that, more than anything else, she wanted him to stay with her. Tears began to stream down her face as she laid back down, pulling the blankets over herself in a vain attempt to regain some of the warmth that had left her.
The Prophet looked back at the tent, ignoring every instinct telling him to rush back in. They had set up camp after Vale had blacked out, using materials from the slaver’s wagons to establish a temporary outpost of sorts. He walked calmly over to the tent that Grayson and Huojin were currently arguing in, hands in his pockets and desperately searching for something to distract himself. Eventually, he made it to the tent and ducked into the warm embrace of shelter.
The air inside was heavy, and despite how large the tent was, the Prophet felt cramped by the intensity radiating off of Huojin and Grayson as the two glared at each other. Huojin barely came up to Grayson’s shoulders, yet the rage pouring from his body was enough to make him seem like he was a goliath. The Prophet cleared his throat, and both of the men snapped their heads to look at him.
“She woke up,” the Prophet said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had permeated the air. Grayson’s expression tightened, and Huojin walked up to the Prophet, patting him on the shoulder before stepping out into the night. Huojin lingered for a moment, just long enough to hear Grayson and the Prophet’s discussion get heated, and scoffed as he walked down the road into the night.
“I didn’t ask for this, Windfel. I didn’t ask to be thrown back into this with all of you,” the Prophet snarled. The commander bristled at his words. “You didn’t ask for this?! Have you ever thought for a minute about how your little stunt affected everyone? Affected me? Affected Vale? When the hell did you become so damn self-absorbed that you think you’re the one who suffered through this the hardest?! We mourned for you, Cinris.
“Vale was inconsolable, crying every night. The men you once led hold celebrations in your name every year. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them you survived and chose to leave them behind to join some damn cult. When Vale found out you were still alive and chose to never return, or even try to contact her for that matter, she almost couldn’t take it!” The Prophet glared up at his old friend, and with the most lethal venom he could lace into three words, he responded.
“Are you done?”
It happened in a flash, without Grayson fully realizing what he was doing, but the next thing Grayson felt was his fist connecting with the Prophet’s jaw, sending his old friend stumbling back.
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