A Touch Of Darkness

21 || A New Search

Flipping the gloves backwards, Rovena encloses them within her fingers, then spins on her heels and begins marching across the square. Her steps aren't entirely seamless, bitterly reminding me of the wound in her side. But she moves startlingly fast.

With a final glance at Fayre, I follow. Fanged flames bite at the back of my neck.

Above, twilight is eating away at the sky, its bluish hues awaking. The day isn't far away. Even so, as we slip into the gloom of a side street, the lamp now swinging at Rovena's waist stands out with ease, cutting through the faint grey mist still clinging to the air. At the distance I leave between us, I'm glad for its light. It gives me something easy to focus on when venturing my gaze elsewhere means the risk of meeting her eyes. Each glance she casts back at me is brief and pointed, a hook I can't help but be dragged along by.

The path comes to an end sooner than I expect. My steps falter, a flash of surprise making way for my sigh of relief. The cobbles underfoot have vanished. Now, I stand on soil, still compact and well-trodden but a cushion in comparison to stone. I raise my head, and a weight seems to drift from my shoulders. I'm no longer trapped at each side, either. Houses fall away to make way for trees.

These trees are odd, however. Their branches don't twist and spread like gnarled claws, bare with winter's chill. Instead, their tops stretch high into the sky, slim and narrow, and Rovena's pool of light reveals miniature leaves, dark yet virescent. Not able to contain the urge, I run a hand through a mass of them. Their tips are somewhat sharp, pricking at my palm before fire whisks the faint pain away.

"You coming?" Rovena says. My hand jerks back as I spin to face her.

"To where?" I ask, the thought striking me suddenly. This isn't the way to her home.

She gestures with the gloves, as if reminding me she still holds them. "Far enough away. Now come, unless you want the rest of Neyaibet to catch up with us."

Swallowing, I nod. As she continues, striding into the tall shadows of these new trees, I hurry after her. Flickering light spills over the forest floor, too easily swallowed by the darkness. Night hasn't let go of the world just yet.

Her bloodied side is shaded, the opposite to the one that houses Fayre's lamp. But it is visible. Its stains have reached the edge of her cloak, too.

That is my fault. I dig my nails into my palm, but the flame rises regardless. The limp in her step was gained in defence of me, and that was before she truly knew who she was defending.

I watch the black wisps embrace my hand. If only my flame had the power to heal others, rather than only me. It isn't fair. I haven't earned the ability nearly as much as her. If I was wounded so deeply, I doubt I'd be able to keep walking as she does.

"You're nothing without that cursed flame."

Biting down on my tongue, I shove back the image of Fiesi, the false hiss of his voice. I'd be a fool to dwell on a dream.

Even if it speaks the truth.

My flame climbs up my arms. Slowing my step, I retreat from the reach of Rovena's light, praying she won't catch sight of it.

For a few more minutes, we travel deeper into the forest. The trees begin to feel as much a cage as the town was, albeit less cramped and filled with more calming aromas. The needles have a specific smell I can't quite place, but it is pleasant, and twined with the damp scent of earth it creates a musty blanket.

Eventually, Rovena stops. She lets out a stifled groan as she lowers herself to the ground, leaning back against a tree stump with her legs straight. As soon as my dagger is set on her knees, her hand vanishes behind her cloak, reappearing a moment later with a long strip of white material. Tugging up her tunic, she proceeds to wrap it around her middle. Faint red quickly stains one patch at her side. Although the blood's scent must be masked by the forest, I'm sure I can taste it at the back of my throat, bitter and metallic.