47
(John Mayer - Waiting On the World to Change)
Adam
It had been a few weeks since the concert at the manor. Today was the day of our weekly festivities, preparing for one of the largest arena showings since I fought the rizumir. Several new animals had been delivered from afar and I was set to fight the most dangerous one. Despite the hype, Captain Zev paced the barracks, antsy and irritated.
“What’s wrong, Captain?” I asked sarcastically. “Are you worried we won’t win our duels?” The guards around me chuckled.
Captain Zev glared over. “Are you attempting to patronize me, Adam?”
“No. No, sir. I guess I was just expecting more energy from you.”
“All of my energy has gone into organizing this morning alone. Then Lord Hazjiken was dragged… to a meeting involving Lady Simira and the Count.” He turned his head around the room, at the guards who were much less jovial than when he started speaking. “However, we need not worry. Everything will continue as planned and they will be back to celebrate our victories today. I expect clean, dignified duels out of everyone. Lord Hallax was gracious enough to lend his regenerator, and it would be rude of us to abuse his generosity. And how much you are restored will come out of today’s earnings. Fewer injuries, higher rewards. Let today be flawless!”
The group of us cheered to more money while Captain Zev turned away and retrieved a thin piece of wood with markings on it.
“I am still stretched thin, as Rezyn is still on his long term assignment, so I will be preparing you before each fight. When the messenger comes, the battles will begin. For now stretch, eat, and temper your resolve.”
He left the barracks for the armory connected to the arena. After about half an hour, a kid came in and called out the first fighter. This happened about every half hour until I was the only one left. The barracks were quiet except for my occasional crunching on vegetables. I was quite fond of grents, these big white watermelon shaped roots, lightly bitter with a strong minty aftertaste.
“Champion Adam, Captain Zev is requesting you in the armory.” The young boy, probably no older than nine years old with freckles and pale red hair, peaked in through the door and spoke in a surprisingly assertive voice. Once I made eye contact and stood, he rushed out of sight.
I crossed the training grounds to the shitty little arena shed and ducked into the doorframe. It was empty except for Captain Zev, the messenger boy, and a few servants.
“Ah, Adam. I forgot to mention it, but the sword you requested arrived this morning. Since you haven’t trained with it, we’ll have you use this.” He handed me a sword the size of a claymore, which was more of a regular sized sword to me.
“Captain, I think I’d like to have a go with the new sword, actually.”
“Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
Captain Zev smirked at me skeptically and told the messenger boy to go fetch the sword. After a few minutes, two guards walked in, struggling to carry the oversized sword. It was beautifully made, a sword as tall as me, and two feet wide. A greatsword too big for anyone other than me to wield.
I stared in awe before grabbing it in one hand from the heaving guards. It was heavy for one arm, but I had been training to wield something this heavy, picking up and swinging around the heaviest things I could find.
Captain Zev chuckled at the sight of the sword. “That’s one behemoth of a sword, Adam. Heavier than most men. Full tang, too.”
I held it before me and marveled. This sword was mine, and it was unlike anything I had seen anyone else in this world use. I spoke out loud to myself, basking in the moment. “It’s almost too big, too thick to be called a sword, huh? Almost like it’s just a hunk of iron.”
“No, that’s quite common for jinian fighters, at least historically. Is that not what you were expecting? You requested it, Adam, and at the cost of the manor.”
“Uh, no, yeah it’s exactly what I wanted.”
“Good. Then to battle.” He helped me into my chainmail and breastplate, shoulderplates and gauntlets.
“Say, Captain, I still haven’t gotten the chance to rematch you for laying me out on my first day. Are we gonna do that at some point, or do you only do beat downs on newbies?”
“Adam, I’m afraid there will be no rematch.” He stared at me sympathetically, one hand on my shoulder. “It will simply be another beatdown.” Captain Zev’s expression grew more confident.
“Am I still that bad?”
“You’ve grown as a fighter, learned how to properly fight. However, as the one who trained you and every other guard, I know everything about how you fight. I would likely beat you worse than the first day because of your predictability.”
“I’m sure I could land a hit.”
“Adam, you still lack speed and finesse. I admit, your battle sense is better than most of the other guards, but due to the lack of competition, outclassing everyone in natural strength alone, your skills and bladework are suffering because you have not needed them. I haven’t yet needed to employ sigils against you either. Another avenue of combat you would be blind to.”
“Okay, so I keep learning and then you’ll let me rematch you?”
“There will come a day where you no longer reside here, where your strength is honed in new ways, and you are trained by a new teacher. You are still an infant to the field of bloodshed. You must grow and learn why it is that you fight before you wish to challenge one bathed in the art of killing.”
Why it is that I fight. The time I spent here is the only time I ever spent really fighting. I never had a reason for it other than getting better in the arena.
“You’re a master though, right? Can’t you teach me that?”
He tightened the final strap and stepped around to the front of me. “Adam, our conversation the other night gave me the inclination to reflect. I am not a master, and hardly a teacher. I am a soldier who can train soldiers, who is still learning to teach his students. You need a master who can teach you to teach, because only through learning from students can a teacher truly become a master. That is the next step on my journey in the art of combat. I believe you are not far behind, lest you leave those edges unsmoothed. But when you leave, as you said you wish to, my final parting advice will be to savor peace and do not fight for fighting’s sake. Do not become a slave to war.” Captain Zev guided me down the hall in silence. The iron barred gate scraped open. He passed me my helmet. “As for you now, never stop being a student of battle. Then, should our paths cross again, I will gladly duel you.”
We clasped fists and nodded at each other. I donned the helmet and stepped into the arena, which was packed full of people compared to the barren noble section, where only Tarynn and a woman sat. And for as beautiful as she was, Tarynn showed no interest in her at all, leaning away and gazing down into the arena like an empty husk. I had only seen him a few times, but he had been that way ever since the trial, walking around like a zombie.
Damn, if I’m even picking up on his angst then it must be glaringly obvious to everyone else.
“Oh, look who has made his grand return!” The glittery annoying jester from the last arena day was back to announcing. “Adam the Mountain Crusher! It is up to you to flutter the hearts of Lord Tarynn and Lady Fera Hallax! Do stir our lonely Lord to mount and crush her mountains!”
It wasn’t that I was getting grossed out much, but his jokes sucked. I wanted to hear as little of his comments before and during the fight. I stomped over, my boots knocking up clouds of sand with each step, dragging the flat side of my sword in the dirt behind me, scratching the ground loudly enough to draw the jester’s attention and shut him up for a second.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the Mountain Crusher presents a new sword to you, primed to slam and penetrate!”
I loomed a couple feet higher than him, enveloping him in my shadow.
“Has he come to give me-” The jester stared up in pure fear as I raised the sword and thrust it into the ground only a few inches from him, the sword taller than him.
“Get off out of my arena,” I growled at him, stepping forward again until we were almost touching.
He was frozen still out of fear until part of him brushed my knee. He jumped back and turned around, hurrying to the wall with his hands in front of him.
After a long moment of waiting for him to awkwardly climb the ladder up, he turned back toward the arena. “Open the gate! Adam, you face the jokadulg!” The crowd roared and screamed as the figure emerged from darkness.
Across the arena, the gate opened and a large shape stomped out into the center. It looked like an ankylosaurus but with an earless, stubby canine head and a mouth with teeth too large to close. Its entire body except for the spiked shell was covered in a spotted brown and gray fur. When it saw me, it flicked its thick tail in the air to reveal a gnarly thagomizer, barking a loud guttural “dulg.”
Must be named for its dulg, since joka means armor. Maybe there are other types of dulgs?
It slowly lumbered toward me and I raised my sword in a ready position. We circled each other slowly, the jokadulg analyzing me over while I read into its pure hazel eyes, trying to find any intent for its attack.
I’m feeling more confident than before, but that doesn’t mean I’m out of the woods yet. I’m already big, and this thing is double my size.
I was at a loss until I noticed that its legs were all shaking, traces of dried blood in its fur like it hadn’t finished healing from when it was captured. It lumbered slowly, probably unable to run at all, unwilling to approach me.
I have to make a plan of attack. If it whips its thagomizer at me, I can try dodging forward to slash at its tail, and if it lunges to crush me under its shell, I’ll have to use my sword to block and push back against it. The thing is big, but I have a lot of strength that I’ve been learning to hone, and I could probably repel it if I can’t lift it. But all of this depends on how dense this beast is. It might just crush me if I’m not careful.
All of that is hypothetical, and this thing can just bite at me or try trampling me too. If it can roll, I’m probably screwed. Whatever. I have to start acting confident if I wanna be confident.
I stepped toward it, my heart thumping out of my chest. The beast halted for the briefest of moments, still circling as I closed in, sword in front of me at the ready. It flipped its tail around, as if it was trying to intimidate me, or pull my attention. Like it was luring me into its trap, even slightly raising its neck to goad me into attacking.
I can fall for that.
I exploded into a dash toward its rear side as its tail whipped slowly toward me. It would have to pull it back to hit me, giving me just enough time. My aim was for its back left leg, which it was too hurt to pull back quickly. I raised the sword over my shoulder and brought it down and through, cutting halfway into its leg. Just then, its tail was finally closing in. I let the sword’s momentum carry me around and under its attack, wrenching the sword up over my shoulder. Sure enough, I had gotten too close for the thagomizer to bend toward me, and it stuck still for just a moment before its retreat would begin. Unlucky for it, my sword was already coming down, cutting through the muscle and sinew like a thousand degree knife through butter, smashing into the ground with all of my might. The beast groaned deeply and stomped the sand, sending shockwaves through the arena and dust into the air.
Sand and dust burned, scratching my eyes while I tried recovering, blinking the obstructions away.
The spiked end of its tail laid on the ground before me, motionless, at which point I whipped my head around to see the top of its spiked shell feet away and closing in to crush me. I spun the rest of my body and pressed my hand on the flat of my sword, slamming it into the gigantic shell. The scrape of shell on metal directly over me was deafening. Every muscle in my body tensed to the point of ripping. I gritted my teeth and a growl of fury rose into yell, this beast’s entire weight being held back by my sword and strength alone, threatening to break my body if I couldn’t hold it sturdy enough. It scraped and scratched against my blade until I had offset it enough to just fall to the ground in front of me, turtled.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
My muscles relaxed and I heaved for air, recovering from the unimaginably heavy attack it just hit me with.
I pulled my feet out of the ruts they had formed in the already packed dirt and gazed at the jokadulg. It snapped at the air toward me, trying to use its tail to rock and flip itself back over, but there was no longer enough reach or sway. All its tail could do was flick blood into the sand. I raised the sword and leaned it on my shoulder, strutting toward its head, clearing my eyes and catching my breath.
It’s time to end this battle. Flawlessly. This beast will take no victory in my arena. I am its champion.
The jokadulg was still so full of fight for not being able to fight at all, and it never stopped snapping at me, trying to shift its shell around in the dirt to reach me. It didn’t make a difference to my sword. All I had to do was haul the blade down with a little bit of force and its weight would carry the rest of the way through.
The dulg’s head flopped onto the ground and I pulled my helmet off. The audience’s cheers and screams swelled around me. I had completely forgotten I was in front of a massive arena of people. It was like I had gone into a trance, a state where only I and my opponent existed. My breath was heavy and my body pumped with adrenaline. It was intoxicating. The power, the prestige of taking something so big down flooded me with pride as I held my sword up and yelled to the people around me.
“LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I screamed out and looked around at the people. Captain Zev cheered and pumped his fist in the air. I found Tells standing behind the nobles, holding a sheathed sword. Her face confused me, like she was happy but frightened by something. Then I followed her eyes to Lady Simira, who was smiling grimly tugging along a figure with a bag over his head. Behind her, standing beside Fera, was a man like a golden idol, gleefully watching the unfolding scene.
The audience fell silent simply at her proud presence, her bright orange eyes catching everyone’s attention like bonfires in a sea of darkness. She wore a tan fur shoulder cloak and a dented light brass chestplate with plate segments down her torso, sleeveless as usual. The Amien crest in the center of her chest plate reflected radiantly in the sun as she stepped forward. Bracelets of valor adorned her battle scarred arms. Service necklaces and commander earrings dangled proudly. Her battleworn scimitar and dagger clasped to the belt, which held up her scuffed padded riding boots. She carried her head high and confidently, her pristine half halo braid gracing her imposing image with a touch of beauty and practicality while the rest of her chestnut hair flared down to her neck. She was glorious.
“Congratulations to the winners of the arena. I am told that every one of Captain Zev’s guards has been successful, and I am quite pleased to see the prowess with which our champion, Adam, finished the day. I regret being unable to witness the glory of such battles, but I was engaged in my own battle.”
She threw the covered man to his knees on the platform, the entire arena watching this spectacle in awe.
“Today is a day of celebration, a triumph for the good of Vehfirn. This man has been tried before Count Jeun Wey and convicted on nine charges. Under Count Wey’s tribunal, I have been given the duty to exact justice, to execute this criminal before you.”
Lady Simira held up a parchment with a lot of writing and three wax seals.
“The first charge. Assassination of nobility. This man murdered Etanya Amien, my mother. The second and third charges. Two counts of mass murder. This man used explosions to collapse a cave on a visiting group of yeffen, resulting in the deaths of forty-seven yeffen, and diverted a river killing hundreds of farmers, and upwards of a thousand miners under Lord Hallax’s employ. The fourth charge. Conspiracy. This man actively conspired to covertly seize control of land within the jurisdiction of other houses of nobility. The fifth, sixth, and seventh charges. Attempted murder of three separate nobles. Myself, Count Jeun Wey, and Viscount Olori Hallax. The eighth charge. Attempted mass murder of all those residing within the Count’s tower. The ninth charge. High treason. Taking part in an ongoing plot to unlawfully usurp the power of the Count.”
Silence gripped the arena. Everyone was lost taking in the sudden spectacle. I stood in the arena with my eyes wide and my mouth ajar at everything happening so unexpectedly.
“By my right as Viscountess Simira Amien, I sentence this man to death. Execution on this very spot.”
The man with the bag on his head shook madly trying to scoot away. Stifled yells cried out from his gagged mouth.
Captain Zev slowly stepped forward. “Lady Simira,” he said, his voice shaking like he knew the answer, “who is that man?”
Simira kicked the man in his ribs. He wrenched forward, laying belly down and groaning. She then reached down and ripped the bag off. Simira yanked back the matted wad of spindly gray hair to reveal the battered face of Hazjiken Amien. As she tugged his head back, the gag fell from his mouth and he turned his eyes to Captain Zev.
“Andris!” His raspy voice shrieked. “Kill my daughter! She has gone mad.” Simira grabbed his head, wrestling the gag back in his mouth, but Hazjiken was doing his best to resist. “She lies to seize power from me! She fabricated this with Lord Hallax to kill me and give him my territory! Adam! Kill her! She harbors a-”
Simira finally wrestled the gag back into his mouth and secured it tighter. She held her hand out. “Tells, the sword. It’s time to end this old bastard.”
Hazjiken shook his head and screamed while Captain Zev stood aghast, glancing between Simira and Hazjiken. Simira unsheathed the sword and held it to her father’s neck, passing the parchment to Tells.
“Sister!” Tarynn rose from his seat. Simira turned around and glared menacingly at him. “I wish to review this parchment. He is my father as well as he is yours.”
Simira sighed and nodded to Tells, who passed the parchment to Tarynn. He read it over while the entire arena’s attention was on him. He passed the parchment back to Tells and held a finger up, bobbing his arm and pointing to the golden man, the father of his kjzae.
“Hallax. That’s the reason you arranged this. You wanted Lord Hallax’s name on this piece of parchment, didn’t you?” He looked crushed, like he was on the verge of tears. “And you didn’t want anyone to get in the way of that, did you. It was all lies.”
Simira scoffed at him like he was stupid.
Tarynn continued. “And the reason she died is because you couldn’t wait to outlive father.”
Simira held up the sword to Tarynn. “She took her life because of the man we called a father. You’re a fool if you’ve not the eyes to see through his deceptions.”
“Sister, your resemblance to him at this moment is uncanny.” Tarynn stepped forward, his comment digging into her.
“You know as well as I do that I am nothing like him. I will not hear more of this.”
Tarynn’s jaw shook and fear verged on overwhelming him, but everyone here knew she wouldn’t lash out at him in front of a crowd. “You didn’t used to be. Then I woke up on that bed in Poikla and you were more aggressive than ever. Were you scared that I was going to leave with her?”
“I needed you to act according to the rules we set.”
“What rules?! An agreement between children that-”
Simira’s indignant face silenced him. Her enraged voice cried out in genuine pain, but demanded the utmost respect. “Have you no honor?! Have you no convictions?! Have you no sense of duty?! Can you not see the pain I have endured to assume the title of Viscountess?!”
She quieted, seething in her anger, unable to catch her breath.
“I played the games that those above us play. I maneuvered their tricks and transactions. I learned their laws which stand apart from the laws of the people. I gave up my humanity so I could win against them. I became as cruel and heartless as the ones who rule us all. I stand here now, alone, but dignified in my victory! My people will never again suffer at the hands of this wretched creature! I will restore Vehfirn and the Amien name to the unquestioned honor they once held. I have proven my conviction against every doubt cast upon me. Your sole duty was to commit to one woman. I will not allow you to stand as though I have wronged you when you were too cowardly to go to war, begging me in tears at my boots to take your place all those years ago.”
Tarynn recoiled slightly, quivering eyebrows and lips. “You would trade your own brother for these people?”
Simira glared into her brother’s eyes, destroying his fight with willpower alone. “These… these people?” She waved her sword toward the audience, whispering her disgust at her brother. “Why do you address them as though they sicken you?”
“We’re supposed to be family, Simira, nobility!”
“Are we? All I have seen is your selfishness, just like our father.”
“It’s as if you’ve forgotten that we’re supposed to provide stability to these people, to rule these people properly. Our duty-”
Her breath quickened and her jaw flexed until she finally broke, fiery and passionate with a honed control over her actions. “These people are my countrymen! They have shed blood for me and I for them! They died for me!” She ripped her service necklace free and thrust it forward, dangling the crests before his eyes. “Twenty-seven men and women plus ninety-six whose crests could not be recovered! They entrusted the livelihoods of their brothers and sisters and sons and daughters to me! I cannot stand by waiting for our treasonous father to die while they suffer at his whims, while he takes their lives for nothing but shreds of power and gold without an ilk of concern for the value of the men and women who he oversees! I hear the questions of my fellow jorlad, the songs of the yeffen, the stories brought by the brrzit! My father has no care for any of them, not even his own people, and I dare say that every man who thinks himself above his fellow humans has forsaken his humanity! We shall not be ruled as slaves and servants, we shall be governed as people! We shall not return to the chains we were bound by under the lonsu, not to our own species or any other.” A brief, frustrated yell raged from her and she finally took a deep breath, changing her tone as though she were questioning in a courtroom. “I will not hear you speak as though you know a thing about leading people when your own cowardice prevented you from saving one person. You know nothing of duty. You read poetry and practice music in your den, hating the citizens for not appreciating you more. Have you walked these streets since we were children? Can you say where the market is? What the price for a loaf of bread is? Do you know the name of a single person in our quarter or do you only know them by ‘servant’? What is the value of a life of one of your people? Have you ever considered their lives at all?”
The air whirred around the arena as Simira furiously awaited an answer from her brother.
Simira took in a deep breath, infuriated and disappointed. “You… you are not my brother. You are only his son.”
“And you were never my sister. I renounce my name as an Amien.” Tarynn stared into her eyes without any emotion. Like he was a fundamentally different person looking at a stranger he despised.
A low growl rumbled from the seats of nobility and Lord Hallax stomped forward, to Tarynn. “Boy.” His words were contained, fierce, and threateningly reserved. “You are committed to my daughter, Fera Hallax. Your stature of nobility is what granted you such an opportunity, and should you revoke that status, that name, then I will personally wring your neck before this crowd for abandoning your contract.”
A boldness rose in Tarynn’s eyes, a rash courage. “Fuck you.”
Hallax wrapped his giant hand around Tarynn’s neck, and leaned down, fury overcoming him, seething in Tarynn’s face. “Say that to me again.”
Simira’s sword rose to Hallax’s neck, and he glared at her like she was an impetuous child. “Viscount Olori,” she said calmer than ever, “within this quarter, there is no death penalty for the breaking of a divine contract, and I’ll not have another Viscount issuing justice in my quarter. Tarynn will be held as a prisoner and we will discuss the matter of his sentencing, as I agree he is in the wrong, but his words are only words. His name is not legally revoked as of now. Be not so callow.”
Indignation took Hallax’s face, as if he wanted to curse Simira’s name until he looked into her eyes, commanding but sympathetic to him. Even I got the notion that she would kill him for acting out in her quarter.
Hallax released Tarynn, who was taken away by guards, and he returned to Fera’s side, who hadn’t even been paying attention.
Simira returned to her father, a vibrating mess of hysterics. He was… crying? No, laughing. From below, from only where I could see, his wheezing intakes and releases of breath sounded like an old man weeping, but the tears which dripped had been spurred on by the twisted smile on his face, heaving from the hilarity of his children at arms against each other.
“Captain,” Simira declared, “the guard, and my people. All who wish to declare themselves in service of this tyrant, speak, and if you would die for him, then step forward to offer your life now.”
The arena fell completely silent.
Captain Zev looked down at me and then up at her. He straightened his back, bowed his head, and raised his hands in a formal salute. “The guard stands strong, for the honor of the Amien name, and for you Viscountess Simira.”
Simira nodded and swept the arena with her eyes once more. When no protest rose, she swung the sword down like it was nothing, like beheading her father was nothing. One, two, three bloody hacks and his bleeding wad of hair tumbled off the platform and fell into the arena, face down into the sand. She kicked the body down to follow.
The arena remained silent save for the shifting of clothes. Then audience members: farmers, tradesmen, merchants, factory laborers, the guard, even the yeffen and brrzit; all of them gradually rose from their seats in silence, saluting Viscountess Simira. Myself and Tells included.
As much as I hated her before, this isn’t the same Simira. And if Tells is saluting, who believes Vetia is dead, then who am I to disagree?
All of a sudden, a thunderous boom blasted from high Hallax Hall. I flinched, as did most of the arena, like gunshots in the distance, ringing in my ears. Two more crashes followed, rumbling across the city. Not alarm bells, but something else. Everyone collectively gazed into the gray overcast sky at the speckles of ash gently falling like snow.
Simira saluted and walked away casually. Then, like an unspoken rule, everyone exited the arena in silence out of respect. I didn’t see Captain Zev for the rest of the night as ash descended from the sky.
A servant stopped by and gave me a piece of parchment that said I was formally relieved of my duties. Stamped with the Viscountess’ seal. Tells received the same thing, but she said she wanted to stay in the manor for the night.
Even though it was supposed to be a celebratory night after the battling, there were no festivities for me. The guards and servants went back to normal, partying with the pleasure parlor workers and drinking the night away. I stuck around for a short while, but I couldn’t get into it. I hadn’t ever seen a man’s head roll like that. A man, not an animal. It lingered… staring up at me blankly whenever my eyes closed.
I trekked out of Amien manor freely for the first time in over a month. Bundled up for the early flurries of a snowstorm amidst the ash, I went to the place outside of the city where I agreed to meet Vetia, waiting until night had well past fallen. She didn’t show up, so I sat and listened to the sounds of Vehfirn. It was a silent night, veiled people in the streets running last minute errands before the snowstorm and the ash pushed them all back inside. Tells would be okay in the manor for the night. I took in the feeling of the biting night air. It was cold, but it smelled something like pines and other evergreen trees with hints of rich minerals on the Ashewinds, as this event was seemingly called. It was so cold, but I didn’t want to go back yet, in case she showed up. I bundled in a blanket and huddled next to my ignited hand.
At some point in the night, I heard the sound of a woman singing her way down the street, walking like a drunkard with dried makeup running from her eyes. Like a woman out of her mind, or a ghost haunting the road out of Vehfirn, she seemed to float along. She had a blond bob with low bangs, golden horns, and silvery skin. Just as I was standing up from the tree I was huddled beneath, her head snapped to look at me. She slowly stumbled closer, so I met her halfway and held the fire close to her.
“Are you okay,” I said, “do you need help?”
She didn’t say anything, but instead reached for my unlit left hand and held it up to her concealed eyes. I got the feeling she was some kind of crackhead, so I figured it best to try getting away from her before she did something weird.
“Yep, that’s my hand.”
I tried lightly pulling my hand away and her mouth slowly opened, her nails digging into my skin. In her mouth was a set of sharp teeth slowly emerging from the gums and wrapping over her regular teeth, her cheeks splitting as her jaw unhinged.
My hand wrenched back instinctively, blood spurted out as her nails tore lines across my hand. Almost instantly, she blinked her absent red eyes which darted around madly, taking in the situation around her and locking onto me. Her teeth and nails retracted and she stared at me with confusion and fear.
“Adam?” Vetia peered around at the trees and the road. “Where are we?”