Whispers filled the colors, the colors filled his vision, his vision filled his soul, his soul filled the space, the space…it demanded him. It would have him. It would whisper until it filled him. Turned him inside out. Burned him through and made him ash to be mixed with paint that would create more colors that would whisper…whisper back to him…

The words made no sense, but they insisted. They moaned. They cried. They screamed. They promised to rip him from within so he would rip himself from without.

He spun, tumbled, careened. No ground to mark his place, no sky to look back toward. Nothing to save him. Nothing but a single thread that kept following him, no matter how fast or far he fell. Everything around him was bright, much too bright, but that thread stood out. It shone, glinting with silver light. It would save him. Save everyone. Everyone.

No. He wasn’t reaching. Not for that thing. What he wouldn’t give for a voice to scream with. Go away, leave him alone, let him go back home. No good came of that thread. It would only lead him to more pain.

Seemed he didn’t have a choice. That thread continued to follow, passing through the assaultive colors like they were water. It creeped closer to him, coming more alongside, looking for a target. Finally, it struck his hand—

~~~

Ryland woke. He felt his throat constrict and vibrate, but he didn’t hear the scream he let out. His ears were ringing, and his left hand stung.

A hand fell on his shoulder. Immediately he tried to swat it away and move back. His legs were bound. They tied him up? He’d fallen asleep too deep, he knew better—

“Ryland!”

A woman’s voice? They didn’t let women into this part of the prison. Were they messing with his head? Ryland kept wrestling with whatever they’d used to bind his legs. “No, no—”

“Ry, it’s me! It’s Kiran!”

…Kiran… They didn’t know that name. He’d never… Ryland froze and squinted in the dim light, searching for the source of his torment.

It was a woman. And slowly, as his eyes adjusted, he saw through the shadows to a face he’d seen many times. In the darkest times. Kiran. Kiran…

“Is he alright?” Now Vael’s voice joined them from somewhere behind her, just beyond the fire.

Kiran and Vael. …He wasn’t in the dungeon, or the entertainer’s house. Ryland looked down at his legs and saw the tattered bedroll he’d been fighting against.

“Hey,” Kiran said softly as she squeezed his shoulder. “You’re safe. It’s alright.”

Safe. He was safe. Finally Ryland let out a long breath, but everything in him was still shaking. He laid on the ground, the back of his head hitting hardened snow, and he stared up at the dark ceiling of their cave. The cave they’d dug out. They’d dug it out just outside the fort. They weren’t in the fort. The fort had chased out Tienja. Tienja was nowhere near. Jaraka was nowhere near.

Ryland closed his eyes. He needed to calm. He could calm.

Fifty…forty-nine…forty-eight…forty-seven… He nearly ran out of numbers before he could feel his breath flow through him without panic again, but it happened. When it did, he stayed in that reclined pose a while longer.

Ancestors gut him, he was tired.

“Ry?” Kiran’s voice had never been more of a salve than it was in that moment. “Are you alright?”

What a question. Ryland slowly brought the heels of his hands to his eyes. “…Fffffuck…”

“He’s speaking at least.” Vael moved around the fire to take a knee on his cousin’s other side. “Hey. You’re safe now,” he assured, laying his hand on Ryland’s other shoulder. “We’ve got you.”

Safe… He was safe. He was safe. “I’m fine,” he croaked out.

“You’re not,” Kiran called his bluff. “Neither of us need you to be. And if you can’t talk about it, we can probably be convinced to leave it alone for now.”

Vael added, “If you eat something,” with particular insistence.

Too many words all at once. Ryland could barely absorb more than the concern that soaked their tones. “I just need sleep,” he mumbled. Then he paused as he realized what he’d just been doing. “How long was I asleep?”

“Half the night.” Vael picked up one of their half empty bags, then lifted his cousin’s head so he could slip it under. “We were just switching out so Kiran could get some sleep.”

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Wow. He’d been out. Not smart, T’Vair. But two days of no sleep and running through the tundra… How was he even awake?

The dreams. Those moon-forsaken dreams. Ryland reached over to scratch at the back of his hand. Not a good sign. The worst sign. But there was nothing he knew to do about it.

Kiran moved to sit on her heels in front of the fire. “Can you sit up? You need to eat something.”

Oh, she sounded irritated. Not ‘I’m about to rip your head off’ irritated, but ‘We need to have words’ irritated. Arguably the more dangerous kind for her. But in all honesty, Ryland found a deep comfort in recognizing that tone. It was familiar. He knew what was coming. He knew the person speaking wouldn’t actually hurt him. He wasn’t freefalling anymore. Ryland had never been so pleased to be in trouble with Kiran.

“He still seems out of it,” Vael said as he frowned down at Ryland. “I don’t like how dilated his eyes are.”

“I’m alright,” Ryland insisted again. He’d say it until it was true. And even if it didn’t get around to becoming true, he’d still say it. They didn’t have any other options. He had to be fine. They were safe for now, but they were not done running.

Vael, though, was having none of it. “You’re not alright. Take a moment, then we’ll get you sat up and eating. We’re not going anywhere.”

Kiran looked away. “The beets are still warm. Working on the potatoes.”

Ridiculous fuss-mongers, both of them. The scout had suffered worse. Recently. “My eyes are fine, Vael. I just…had a strange dream.” He swallowed.

“Sounded like a nightmare,” his cousin murmured.

“It’s fine.” Ryland would prove it. He rolled to his side and pushed away from the ground. All of him was sore from being on the move non-stop followed by taking a very long nap, but he forced himself upright.

Kiran shot him a glare. “Great. Then eat.” She picked up a hide-wrapped beet and held it out to him.

Yeah. Ryland probably deserved the sharp response. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t anticipate how she’d take to the suggestion of being left behind, especially after disappearing on her once already. He took the roasted beet without a word. No point in arguing that he wasn’t like her parents, that he was trying to keep her safe. She’d see it eventually. Hopefully before she ended up with their ancestors.

Or worse, in Jaraka’s keep…

“Ryland.” Vael’s soft call shook him. “Eat. If you can.”

Yeah. Of course he could. Ryland could do something as easy as eat. He stared at the food in his hands, then realized eating would deprive him of the thing keeping his hands warm. …Oh well. He couldn’t be fine if he didn’t eat, so he made himself take a bite. Immediately, though, his stomach stabbed him with the reminder that it had been too long since he’d had anything but half-melted snow in far, far too long. Lucky he hadn’t frozen to death, frankly. Lucky for a lot of reasons.

No. No, he could not let his mind wander again. He was in the cave. He was with his family. He was safe.

The three of them sat there quietly for a while. No one dared break the still air until Vael noticed Ryland scratching at his left hand through his glove again. “Stop,” he said quietly. “Scratching makes things worse. Lemme see.”

Ryland jerked his hand away from his cousin before he thought about what he was doing. “…It’s not bad, Vael,” he said as calmly as he could.

“You were scratching there earlier, in the storage room. If you’re hurt, we need to make sure it’s not infected, it could—”

“I’m not hurt.”

“Ryland,” Kiran snapped, “stop being an ass and show him your hand!”

The scout shut his mouth. Much as it was good just to have Kiran around to be angry at him, the anger was starting to make the impression it was meant to. He’d need to apologize. Later. When she was of a mind to hear it. For now, he made up for his transgressions by slowly taking off his glove. “There’s nothing you can do,” he said as he revealed the deep, red rash on the back of his writing hand.

Vael’s brown eyes got big real quick. “Ryland, you need to at least get some snow on it! Calm the redness!”

“It’s not infected. It doesn’t hurt.” Ryland sighed. “Tap it.”

“What?” His cousin frowned.

“Tap on it.”

Kiran moved over to observe the strange request, while Vael glanced at her before doing what he requested. The blacksmith recoiled when he hit something hard just under the thinning layer of flaking skin. “Ryland…”

“It’s more scales under there.” The scout swallowed as his voice grated against his throat. “There’s a couple more every day. They’re up my spine. A few on my arms. Good amount on my legs.”

Kiran shook her head, and the edge was gone from her voice as she asked, “What is going on?”

“I don’t know.” Ryland put his glove back on. “I don’t know why they showed up. I don’t know why there’s more. Strange things happen…” He coughed. “Strange things. Like with the lock. And then I get more.”

“A lot of strange things have been happening if they’re all up your back,” Vael commented.

Couldn’t have been more true if Sun’nava, the Te’il’s own God of Truth, had said it. “I wish I could explain. The scales, the dreams, I don’t… They started around a year ago, and I don’t know why. There was no reason. Nothing. Nothing I know of.”

“But you didn’t say anything,” Kiran pointed out.

“What grown man complains about dreams?” Ryland snapped back, then he calmed with a sigh. “That’s how it started. The scales came later. I asked the boys what I was feeling on my neck, and… Yeah.”

Vael’s face drew in, likely as he contemplated what he’d like to do about the Guard. “And the Te’ils? Jaraka’s people?

Ryland had an ear for sound memorization, which served him well as a scout, but he was no student of languages. “My Te’iltic only got so much better there. They… When they caught me, they tried to yank some of the scales off. Didn’t work.” The screams… “They won’t come away. Not for nothing. So they…chained me up and made me stand shirtless in her court.” The laughter…the awe…the screams… “Called me Garast’na. Some strange nickname. And…the queen said I’d give her luck.” Ryland clenched his jaw shut. He wasn’t ready for the rest. Kiran and Vael weren’t ready. He wasn’t even sure it was true. How could it be? How…?

Thoughts of the keep scattered as he felt warmth and pressure on his right arm. Kiran. She’d come down enough from her offense to hug him. “We’ll figure it out, Ry.”

We. The three of them. Like the old days. Ryland leaned his head toward hers. “…I hope so,” he whispered.

“Tomorrow,” Vael chimed in with a nod. “Tienja hasn’t found us yet. Doubt he’ll be able to now. We’ll dig out and head south, find some friendlier Te’ils, and we’ll find out what is going on.”

Would they? Could they? Was there even something to figure out, or was Ryland really cursed? And if so, would it pass to the two most important people in his life?

Not if he had a say. He’d leave before that happened. They’d have to understand someday. Even Kiran. But for now…for now, at least it was good to be home. “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Tomorrow.”