Lady Of Lake And Arrow |A Swan Lake Retelling|: Book One

Chapter 21

Imagine Dragons - Who We Are

"And what do you want, little one?" The Wolf of Sorrow growled, circling the human as if it were prey. It was a young man, whose eyes were wild and full of madness.

"Faith has failed me," the young man said, "I want vengeance."

Sorrow narrowed its depthless eyes. Now this was certainly not an encounter the wolf got often. "And how will you repay me?"

"Anything. Even if it is my life."

Sorrow didn't reply for a long time, padding around the little human who dared speak to him. The young man did not flinch; did not tremble in the slightest. But Sorrow could care less for its life.

"I want your happiness, desire, hatred. Everything." The young man stiffened, seeing only the shift of the wolf's fur, the ghostly presence. Sorrow's sharp claws scraped against the floor.

"I want your very heart."

- Faith and Sorrow, Sorrow and Faith -

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Jessa waited on the battlements for the whole day, waiting.

The novices were the first to come back. The gates swung open in a loud creak to let them into the Keep. She perked up from where she sat, having fallen asleep with her chin resting on her palm.

From the tired looks on the novices, she could tell they were all tired from burying the water user's body. Terhen was the last to arrive, and the gates closed shut the moment he stepped into the Keep.

A strange relief fell on her. He's okay.

She contemplated going down–to what for, she didn't know. See him? Talk with him?

Why am I even thinking about this?

But Raya was already stepping out to greet him, smiling. She did not reach out for him, as Jessa for some reason thought she would. Instead the two stood there, exchanging bits of conversation by the way their lips moved.

Jessa went back to looking out at the forest. She should be going down soon; it was sunset, and she didn't know what Ryland had planned. A ticklish, almost giddy feeling rose in her chest. It was almost as if she were nervous.

Yet what reason could it be for her to be nervous?

He is a prince, she thought repeatedly. Princes don't get close to thieves like me. Perhaps that was why she was nervous–because of exactly that. It was unusual for princes to even speak a word to low thieves like her.

She huffed out a breath. And purely because she felt like it, she took the stairs down the battlements. She had to hold on to the steps with her hands to keep from slipping since the stairs were very steep, though it was barely any different from climbing; just took a longer time to get down. And the longer she took, the closer she got to seeing Ryland as the sun disappeared.

Jumping off the last few steps, Jessa landed with a soft thud. Everything was bigger on the ground, and she missed being able to see far away into the distance. Above, the height was beautiful to her, and she could imagine herself touching the skies.

Such dreams, the phantoms purred. The first time they've spoken to her in days.

Not so loud now, are you? She retorted. Yet the voices were more quiet than before; a whisper in endless darkness.

Then they were gone.

Simply gone–peeling away from her mind like petals falling off a withered flower.