Rune Mage [Fantasy/Adventure | Book 1 +2 | Complete]

Chapter 51: Guilt and Fear

Seiren dragged herself out of what felt like an eternity of heavy darkness. Her mind weighed like lead, barely a coherent thought, and she gasped for air as if she'd forgotten to breathe.

There were so many visions -- dreams? But they weren't the usual kind. There was nothing horrific or monstrous, just endless faces calling out to her. Most of them she'd never met, but she saw Loren there, too, amongst the crowd.

Behind her, Rowan and Madeleine called.

Seiren didn't know what to do, but so many images flashed before her eyes: people's birthdays, interactions, happy days, sad days -- it was all so overwhelming. It went on for what felt like an eternity, until it all fell silent and she was doused in darkness again. Then, a soft hand took hers and led her away from the suffocation.

The hand was still on hers.

Seiren blinked. The room came into focus at snail pace. Windows sat high on the wall on her right, with their curtains drawn but the hint of dawn -- or dusk? -- peeking through the material. On the left, the room was bathed in semi-darkness. A hunched-over shape leant on the edge of her bed, his or her hand covering hers. A long-extinguished candle sat behind that shape. The rest stretched into darkness.

She shifted a little and bit back a groan. Her whole body ached as if she'd run miles without a rest. A crackle of paper folding caught her attention and she fished it from beneath the covers. It was attached to her shoulder. The remains of a green rune smoldered away. Someone was healing her.

"Loren?" she said, her voice dry as the desert. She tried to clear it but it felt like knives scraping over her flesh.

"Loren..." whispered the shape. Rowan. Seiren's breath hitched in her throat and she made to snatch her hand back, but his fingers closed over hers. It was the same soft hand that had led her away from the calling crowd in her dreams. He sniffled. Seiren froze.

"What..." What the hell are you doing was what she wanted to say, but the air was heavy, and she'd never seen Rowan's shoulders hunched like that. "What's going on?"

She wanted to light a yellow rune, but she was only in a heavy nightdress -- did Rowan undress her?! She didn't want to ask. -- and she had none of her stuff on her person. Out of instinct, her free hand flew to her chest and it tightened when she realised Madeleine wasn't there. She found her sitting on the bedside table and bit back the instinct to put her on right away.

Seiren edged up the bed so she at least wasn't flat on her back. Rowan still had her hand in a steely grip and he was shaking. A crushing unease sat over Seiren's abdomen, making breathing difficult, but she didn't know what to say to Rowan, whose shoulders trembled and breathing was rapid. She almost wished he would scream and shout. Anger, she could deal with. Whatever this was, she wanted no part of it.

She did what her mother would have done back when she would wake in the middle of the night from a bad dream or when she and Madeleine got into a fight. With some hesitation, she reached forward with her other hand and rubbed the back of his. The grip relaxed a little, allowing blood flow to her fingers again.

Rowan lifted his head. She couldn't see his features in the dark, only the outline of his head and his black hair, normally so neat on his head, sticking up at odd angles.

"Message from Benover..." Rowan's voice was thick. "Loren's dead."

All the air left Seiren's lungs. She sat up and her head spun. Rowan might as well have pushed her in the path of a racing train. Loren -- dead? Impossible. She wasn't dying when Seiren found her. She was in hospital. In good hands. She was healing. She would have died earlier if she was that gravely injured, but she'd hung on for--