Flock

Chapter 47

I left Vas on the bench and wandered back to the estate. Vas's insecurity made me nervous. He had seemed like he would follow Evound anywhere without question, but as the plan unfolded, I needed to be sure that he would follow me without question.

The gravel crunched softly under my feet as I walked back. The lights from the large, floor to ceiling windows glowed like beacons, casting the front patio in golden light. From here, the estate looked beautiful—even inside the opulence was something to admire—but as I got closer, I noticed the cracks in the façade. The small chips in the stone exterior, the signs of age in dirt crusted corners; even the cloudiness of the glass windows.

The night had gone eerily quiet around me. The air was still, and even the light chirping of crickets had gone quiet. I knew enough to know when I was being stalked; that feeling of prey: heightened senses, quickened heart rate, the light sheen of sweat breaking out across my exposed skin.

I began walking again. One foot in front of the other, trying to keep my pace controlled and even as I made my way toward salvation. The quickest route was to cross the grass and head directly toward the ballroom stairs—and so I left the gravel path and hurried across the damp grass, my fear spurring my steps.

I was careful as I ran, making sure I kept my balance as I escaped back toward my prison. There was a terror beginning to grip me, clawing its way up through my belly. Something gave a low, rumbling growl behind me and before I knew it, I lost my balance.

I slid across the grass, landing on my back. The stars above me twinkled—unaware of my fear—and then everything went black. 

The estate was no longer brightly lit. Instead, the broken windows were evidence of an empty shell. Smoke still billowed gently from the rooftop. The smell of death and fire permeated the air—but that wasn't was chilled me. It was the silence. The utter, complete silence that surrounded me.

Bodies were scattered across the grass and along the gravel pathway. I stared behind me. I was back at the fountain; the Kryjia statue missing her right arm, the staff on the ground. Her stone throat was cracked, as if a stone giant had passed by and slit her throat.

A scream pierced the air and I grabbed the fallen staff, clutching it in my shaking hands. Stillness surrounded me, and I stepped slowly into the trees and off the pathways, fearing the appearance of whatever forces had destroyed this place.

Leaves crunched underfoot, the barren branches reaching heavenwards. I stopped moving—it was fall. I had never seen what fall looked like; as trees were not readily available underground, but we told stories. I stared up at their empty branches, emaciated arms reaching upwards as if to grab the stars from the sky.

Mesmerized, I crouched low to the ground and held the staff close to my chest. The world around me ceased to breathe—until I heard the familiar sound of gravel footsteps.

I waited, watching the path–my gaze flicking back and forth both ways. A figure stepped between the trees; and a sense of familiarity crashed into me so hard, I sucked in a breath as if I had been punched in the gut. Her skin was white, like clean linen and her hair cascaded down around her shoulders to her waist in a firestorm of red. Golden tendrils shot through the blaze and she seemed to almost shine in the dark, as if light was radiating from her.

She wore a long green dress, her shoulders bare–her feet stained brown from dirt and grass as she walked barefoot down the rocky path. Her face remained impassive, her steps not faltering over the uneven, sharp rocks.

And then her eyes found mine. They glowed golden—tiny suns in the dark. I stood slowly, the staff still clutched tightly in my fist. She approached, her pace not changing. She extended a milky-white arm toward me, her fingers cupping my chin as she stared at me. I could feel her evaluation, she was casting judgement on my existence—and then her eyes fell on the staff.

She jerked back hard, dropping to her knees, a keening wail spiraling up and out of her throat.

"Stop!" I whispered fiercely, casting my gaze around the woods. The silence had been deafening but her screams seemed to echo for miles. The dead were killed by something, and I didn't want to meet those responsible. Her wailing ceased immediately, and she bowed her head low to me, her hands raised upwards to me as if in supplication.

"Rising from chaos, the phoenix shall rein over crows—feasting on the fallen their victory shall block out the sun as they reach for the stars. But the water serpent wakes—and the walls between worlds will fall. An ancient call will sound and the earth shall crack open: fire spews forth to either cast the phoenix back to ash or to douse her flames forever. It is the end of the phoenix..." the woman before me babbled.

"I don't understand," I said. She lunged for my hands, grasping both in one of her own. Her strength was impressive and I dropped the staff in surprise. The white woman before be snatched up a chunk of gray gravel and sliced my hand. Dark blue blood gushed from my palm and silent tears trickled down her cheeks. I stared down at my hands, startled by the color—my blood had always been burgundy: dark red and inhuman. Never the color of Kryjia blood.

"The time is here, fate must not repeat herself," her words were rushed and as I watched her begin to panic her pupils widened. She too took the stone against her own skin; a brilliant red spilling forth before she clasped both our hands together and reached for the staff.

"The phoenix, the serpent, and the earth—all must spill their blood when the walls fall at the place of banishment."

The woman's skin was darkening, crumbling away from her bones; her lips peeled back to reveal white, pointed teeth. "All must bleed," she said once more before her body collapsed to the ground and she turned to dust. My body shook, the staff slick with our blood, as I stood there staring at the disintegrated corpse. The green dress and dulling red hair all that remained of the woman.

The sound of pounding feet on gravel startled me. A man, equally as pale and beautiful charged towards me. A strangled cry erupted from his lips as he took in the fallen woman, before his eyes flickered to my bloodied hands. He ripped a pendant free from his neck and slipped it over my head before he shoved me hard.

"Run—" he said, before an arrow pierced through his back and he dropped to his knees. I hesitated only long enough to see the warriors round the bend of the clearing.

I ran.