The Brave One

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Guilt clung to Evera’s heart as she stepped forward. The mouth of the cave gaped open, smelling of earth, lilac, and night musk. The deepest dark lay before her and though she felt the apprehension of her return, she felt no fear. This was a familiar walking ground. Over a decade of her time was passed in these caverns. She breathed in the stale air and sighed.

Morag.

William cried out in anger. She was gone. The word repeated in his mind many times over.

Gone. Gone. Gone!

He tore a dying branch off and swung it against the tree it had broken off of. A loud thwack resonated through the stick, the vibrations tingling his hands. The sound repeated until the branch had broken, the crack lighter than that of the whole piece of wood. He threw the pieces away and fell to his knees.

Gone.

His fist pounded into the dirt. Nothing distracted his agony. None could hurt him more than the pain he felt. He could remember his father passing. His mother, his grandmother. The harsh reality his life had given him. Nothing hurt more.

He beat his hand until his knuckles and fingers were sore and bloodied. Dirt shoved its way into the wounds but even though the sting prickled in his arm, he felt worse still.

How could she leave like that? He stared at the written words in the ground, unable to read what he read all morning. Dream of love and I will always be with you.

The sentence seemed to mock him. He woke from his dreams and with all of his despair, his mind would only grant him nightmares. Dreams were for peace in which he never could amuse in.

He pulled the arrow from the ground and cradled it in his hands. How easy it was to stab the thing into his chest and let himself forget all of his pain. He held it, pointing it directly into his heart. His hand shook. One stab could end his suffering. One single stab could take his life, granting him everlasting peace.

His cry caused birds to flutter from their hiding places. The arrow fell from his hand. No matter how he hated the world, he had a will to live. A hope the next day will be better. A secret promise in his heart to survive another day.

William packed his things and cleared the campsite. He stood and watched the dying embers as he swung his bag upon his shoulder. The ashes gradually lost their glow and became lifeless. The air brushed the back of his neck, playing with his strawberry blonde hair.

Where to go? It was the question all youth were asked and forced to make that decision. He began his journey to run from rejection, found a lost friend, fell in love, and yet he was left behind once more by the cruelty of fate.

Gone.

A flash of a pale hand seared pain on the face of the winged girl. Tae Kella spit at Evera’s feet. The young Fae was forbidden to speak while her combat Tae scorned at the state of the returned girl, rambling on in Parisa, the Unseelie language.

“The wings,” she grabbed the limbs as she spoke. “You fool! Were you not told to keep the jewel off your neck? Have you no shame?”

Evera kept quiet, terror and Kella's blows rattling her bones. If a word slipped past her lips, if she made a movement of protest, even if she had the corners of her mouth turn in the slightest, she would be matched with bloodletting.

“How could you let yourself be deceived by a mere Human?” The word was thrown out as if it dirtied her mouth. “How is it you possess the necklace that has been missing for many Fae lives?” A pause held the stale air. Tae Kella raked her hand harsh in brown curls demanding an answer, looking from Evera to Gwydion.

“I found it,” Evera replied, keeping her voice as steady as possible. No fear. Tell only of what needs to be heard. Fae cannot lie. “I was given the task to retrieve the jewel and returned safely with it.”

“Then I pray thee, tell us by what means did you become in possession of the Raven Necklace?”

Evera bowed her head in loathsome respect and told them. She left out all romantic feelings, speaking as if the man she stole the necklace from was a complete stranger. The outlaw camp was left out as well as almost reaching a Human village and even William’s name. When her story was told, she glanced up at her Tae teachers.

Tae Kella held all green eyes on her. Though she was not the official head of the Unseelie Elders, she was feared enough to be given their loyalty. Evera felt by the chill from her stare she could tell of her story’s incomplete state.

“Gwydion!” Tae Kella’s anger wafted in the air. The Oracle stepped forth from the line of high-ranking Tae. His face was unreadable but Evera could feel his unease. “Let us see her story. Kitkun, if thou wouldst be so kind.”

Evera eyes widened. Gasps and murmurs of disagreement were heard from the rest of the Elders. Kitkun revealed flashes of the selected person’s memory. The process was excruciating, most Fae unable to cope with the pain, the ice of death’s breath filling their lungs. This type of torture was inflicted upon traitors and unwanted individuals but Kella raged in triumph on Evera’s fearful expression.

“Kneel.” Evera was pushed down to her knees, causing pain which would result with bruising. She adjusted her simple Morag attire, fixing the collar holding the front of the dress up. Her life had unraveled in a matter of two weeks all because of one man’s foresight.

Gwydion kneeled in front of Evera reluctantly and placed his smooth hands upon Evera’s temples while closing his eyes. The girl’s green orbs widened and her face became that of a child’s, sobs of fear leaking unwillingly from her face. Curse my emotions. I am too much a weak offspring in their eyes. But Evera was right to fear the Kitkun. Death’s hands are strongest when you are at your weakest and Evera felt her soul was drained.

When Evera felt the pull of magic from Gwydion’s force, she bit down on her teeth.

“Relax,” Gwydion’s voice soothed her. He seemed far away, almost in another tunnel far from the Elder’s gathering hollow. “Let your mind surrender to its own memory. Let them flow or you will suffer.”

Half of the young Fae allowed herself to be swept by the moment; to let Kella and the other Tae see that Humans could be as accepting as William had been. The other part of her held strong and resisted the urge. William’s words were hers to hear and hers alone.

Gwydion’s unwilling force wrenched harder at her mind’s wall. The wall held as hard as stone, his grasp on his magic ebbing. He repositioned his invisible grip on her mind’s block and tore it apart.

Evera felt as though someone had set fire to her skull. Her week had flashed before her face, her hands reaching out as to stuff her time glimpses back into their rightful space in her thoughts. Gwydion held her temples firm between his palms as the unhinged girl swung wildly.

The Oracles face appeared in a mist in the air. The Elders watched with a mix of inexpressive eyes and anticipation.

Purified sight. “Stardust fates collide.” Leaving the underground cities for the first time unguarded. The next scene showed the river. Fighting the stranger off. Figuring out who he was. Their fight and her leaving. The necklace in his hand. The reunion. Outlaws. Robin. The wings. Escaping.

All these memories flashed before Evera’s eyes, reliving each in a real time meant only for her. Seconds passed for the Tae but Evera’s unhinged mind sent her back to live through again the past two weeks.

The fireside argument. Their kiss.

With the most strength she could muster, Evera ripped through the Soothsayer’s magic. Her memories were not for them.

Gwydion’s hand removed themselves from the sides of her head, driven back by the young Fae’s power. He fell backward, unable to believe his enchantment was forced away by anyone. Anger did not fill him, nor did surprise or fear.

Ice seemed to flow through Evera’s vein as she writhed on the ground, her wings pressed painfully under her weight. The tips of her unnaturally long fingers felt like each had a dagger thrust into them. A scream erupted from her throat dying instantly, but not before echoing through the tunnels. Her heart raced, pumping frosty blood. Was this death coming to steal her away? Or was it sanity leaving her? Either way, the disturbed soul settled only after her strength had failed.