HEIR | The Cursed Monarchy | Book 1

Treachery: Part III, Chapter 18

It was late afternoon when Rurin's company received word that the Veils had invaded and conquered the last standing village between the border of the Moorlands and the Delve. It was a slaughter. Shielded by darkness, the Veils threw up an offensive line in the dead of night and descended upon the village with every weapon at their disposal. Warm homes became chilling battlefields as dwarves went down in bloodied, mangled heaps. Oril had ordered the survivors back to the Delve in order to prepare the walls for battle.

Word scurried around rampantly, causing panic to spread through their ranks like a plague. After what seemed like an eternity, but was only a few moments, the company loyally commenced preparations to make their way back to the Delve at first light. The village was within a stone's throw of them, and the thought of retreat was bitter in the extreme. Cecily kept her head low, not wanting to incite any arguments about her allegiance to Oril, but she still couldn't make peace with the decision. She felt forced to accept defeat.

What could I do? She thought.

Cecily's eyes fell to the floor. She felt sick, her stomach churning, her head felt light. She was the only one that saw the truth. If their forces pulled back, they would be leaving hundreds of dead and wounded behind them. Yet the dwarves – stubbornly loyal to a fault – had yielded to Oril's decree without a second thought.

Cecily returned to her shelter to check on Hael, and was relieved to find the dwarf hadn't fallen off his makeshift bed or vomited.

She managed a smile. How could anyone sleep this much? Cecily removed her cloak and draped it over Hael's body, before taking a seat on the ground beside him.

The camp was silent then, save for Hael's snoring. Now that she was alone with her thoughts, she had to face the unknowns that circled around her mind. Was Oril's decree a sign that she needed to move on? She'd had lived in the Delve for nearly seven years. Everywhere she moved was always temporary. It was never home. Never right. And yet somehow, she'd found her way without the sun and stars. Whether Daire intended to hide her or not, Cecily had become a part of the Dark Under as if she'd been born to the warrens.

But she refused to abide by a tyrant's rule. Perhaps the answer was to set out and find another home. She had nothing holding her back.

Except Hael.

In truth, she loved being a smith; she loved her shieldmates and truly felt that she was making a difference in their lives. But how could she continue to live in fear? Especially now that the Delve endeavored to face an invincible Death with a merely a sword and shield. She knew this was a decision she would have to make on her own. Except that there was no decision to make. How could there be when it came to those whom she loved? As her head sank into her hands, her mind naturally turned to Daire. He was supposed to be her anchor in the chaos, the one person she could turn to in a sea of uncertainty. And yet, from what she'd learned, Daire couldn't be trusted either.

One more deep breath and Cecily raised her head from her hands, fumbling inside her satchel for a handkerchief she had stowed there yesterday. Instead, her fingers touched a ribbon. The red ribbon, it turned out, from Daire's note. She lifted the small roll and felt something strange, a peculiar sensation barreling toward her, a heavy foreboding. She was able to ignore it for moment until it crashed into her all at once.

She could feel the strange sensation pulsing now; it was like a pulse deep in her soul, a rhythm of disparity, and a cry for vengeance that would not go away no matter how much she tried to ignore it. A shiver ran down the length of her spine as the beat mercifully came to an end, and an even slower, more poignant one took its place.

As the darkness beat strength back into her, Cecily felt as if every nerve in her body was set ablaze. It was like the ebb and flow of a bitter tide, swelling up at the shore of her soul, and when the black waters had risen just enough, it would touch her lips and she would willingly consume it. She suddenly felt dizzy and afraid. There was a ball in her throat. Perhaps it was the remnants of a memory? Daire that last night, her face cradled in those large hands. We're even now.