❝ An exile should remember that they will die in these lands and there is nothing they can do but fight. ❞
[complete | editor's pick | book 1]
The Reaper's Curse has come, the gods have foreseen death and people are helpless to fight it. Those infec...
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Two months later.
Blood splatters Alicia's cheek, cold and carrying a stench she'll never be able to wash away. She flinches, her lips twisting in disgust.
"Search that one too," Kathryn commands, standing over the Grey Blood she just felled with an agile swipe of her blade. Kathryn sheathes her blade at her hip, flexing her fingers and letting out a breath.
"Yeah, I know," Alicia grumbles. She adjusts her crimson scarf around her nose and mouth, trying to escape the reek of the creatures. Her hands fumble through the pockets of the corpse before her as her stomach churns, but she refuses to be sick.
"Let's just get this done," Kathryn says, dragging one of the Grey Bloods towards the pile they've created.
They remind Alicia of Ghuls, their greying flesh stretching over protruding bones. But they behave like the starved drunks in the slums, they were indeed no more alive.
Alicia sighs as she stands, staring at the items she procured from the creature's pockets. A box of matches and a packet of cigarettes.
"You can trade these?" Alicia asks, holding up her find. Kathryn dumps the body on the pile with a grimace, wiping her gloved hands on the cloth tucked into her belt.
"We can." Kathryn approaches her, looking down at the body with ashen blood leaking from the puncture wound in its skull. "The Commons will appreciate anything at this time."
"You still haven't told me much about the Commons," Alicia says, shoving the items into her satchel resting against her hip, a bag she rarely parts with. She learned long ago to always have supplies at the ready in case she needs to make a hasty escape.
Kathryn shrugs. "There's not much to say. It's a small community of exiles that decided to make a place that's relatively safe in the Dead Lands." She bends and tucks her hands under the Grey Blood's arms, glancing at Alicia.
"I know that," Alicia murmurs, hefting up the creature's legs, refusing to think of these things as the people they once were. It won't make ending their suffering any easier. "But you still haven't said why you're not there, why you stay in the cabin."
"The Commons is a target." Together they move the Grey Blood to the pile they've made today. "If the duke ever decides to make certain those he exiles really do perish, then he won't have to look very far. I'd rather not get caught in that fight, especially if he has that army of warriors you mentioned."
"Fair, but I think Sergey has other things on his plate." Alicia is reminded of the journal in her satchel, the book feeling like it carries more weight than it actually does. He doesn't have control of the Ghuls yet. At least, he didn't when she exiled herself and she hopes that hasn't changed.
"You would know, future Queen of Muovea."
Alicia rolls her eyes and focuses on dumping the body on the pile, not the underlying bitterness in the woman's tone.
