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When I took time from plants it was always sweet like honey, the tang strong and warm. But this was not that.
The coppery taste that had flooded my mouth as I stepped into the Forest of Ok was everywhere now. It flooded my senses, popping through every nerve and over every inch of my skin in a sensation I had never felt before. It wasn’t only life from a single plant, it was life from every plant, from every life in Okivo. Somehow, impossibly, it was all rushing into me. This vast world of power was like something the world had forgotten. Life that was mingled with magic.
My core tightened, the sensation overwhelming as it blended with that taste of sugared juniper berries and melons that grew on the low banks. It was everywhere. I couldn’t escape it, but I didn’t want to.
I wanted it everywhere.
I swallowed my moan, whatever was flooding into me bringing pleasure in ways that shouldn’t be allowed. It was only when the first flakes of ash floated past my eyes that the sensation left, although it was not as I expected.
Even with all that life and power that still rumbled through me, my stores of time were frightfully low. It was almost as though I hadn’t received time from the tree. What was now thrumming through me felt like a memory. A memory of time. The memory of life.
“Now, Boy. In you get.” The harsh voice pulled me back to the forest, the last flakes of ash floating by me as the taste of the tree faded and left me staring at the figures now shoving the shade into the wagon.
“We warned you that you’d get what’s coming for you. And here you are, your final ride. Too bad you'll miss what we do to that little girl without you there to protect her.”
“No! Please! Stop!” The words erupted from the formerly silent shape, his panic exploding from him as he finally fought back. He was clearly skilled, his moves crisp and strong as he tried to fight them. His panic, however, made him sloppy, he was no match for the weapons that were being hurled his way, for the magic that was crackling between them.
I should have stepped in right then, I should have intervened. I would free them all soon regardless, but I needed to time this perfectly, especially now that the tree didn’t give me enough for more than a single jump.
My fingers dug into the surprisingly soft bark of another tree as I watched him fight, those snakes closing in as they forced him closer to the wagon that was now rocking as shrieks echoed from within.
It only took one strong butt of a sword pommel to the back of the head to send the shade into the arms of the snakes. They laughed as they threw him into the dark depths, the rickety conveyance groaning loudly from the impact of flesh and fabric against soiled wood.
“You’ll get water when we find some for you. Seems we are fresh out!” The snakes laughed as they closed the doors, the lock snapping before they walked away and left the Catalysts trapped inside. Their sobs and moans echoed through the spindly trees like the haunted moans that I would have expected from this place.
Except it was not the wraiths of fallen Fae. It was The Catalysts.
It was time.
Free the Catalysts, and then to the queen. Perhaps, after feeling the intensity of the Princess’s magic, I would not have to face the wicked woman alone.
We would know soon enough.
Keeping to the outskirts of the clearing, I darted between spindly trees as I approached the wagons, taking care to assure the snakes had left. The sobs that had echoed from each of the wagons were beginning to ebb, the sounds turning into the haunting moans of pain and loss.
There were no guards, no snakes watching the red wagons. It was just the haunting echo of the Catalysts magic as I darted around another tree, just as much of a shadow myself as I raced through the last of the sun to reach the pack wagon they had thrown the shade into. This close, I could make out the hissed whispers from the other side, the low tones blending with someone's sobs.
“You’re the Princess's Guard, what are you doing here?” someone, a young man, asked in a low hiss.
“I have to get out of here,” the shade hissed, the strong voice I had heard before now laced in panic.
“There is no getting out,” another voice, a woman, answered. “They put us in here back at the Runturin, said it's for a surprise, for after the wedding.”
My core tightened, every muscle flaring as my fíra magic pulled itself right to the surface.
After the wedding.
Did all of this start at the Temple?
The stories had all said that the princess faced her mother at the crimson stained altar, and the histories said the prince was married at that time, but I had never heard any more than that. So yes, it could.
The cart rocked violently as someone, I assumed the shade, grunted from within. The man was clearly throwing himself against the back, trying to break his way through the door. That I could help with.
Sheathing my swords, I ran to the back of the wagon, to the doors didn’t budge no matter how much the man inside grunted and ran himself against them. That, however, was possibly due to the fact that there weren't any doors there.
I had seen the doors swing open, I had seen them shift a lock, but looking at it now, nothing was there. Not a hinge, not a bolt, just an expanse of red painted wood.
“What in the world is this,” I snarled, letting the heat of my magic flare. It would be too dangerous to simply set it ablaze, but I doubt it would do anything anyway, my blazing fist against the wood didn’t leave even a singe mark. It didn’t burn or smoke like wood, almost as if it was not wood.
