Reaver's Fallen Kingdom

Chapter 18

Screaming. Not the normal, panicked screaming of someone with fear in their heart. No, this was an unholy, inhuman sort of screaming. Most of the men had fallen to the fog, but this came as no surprise to me. A trip through Wraithmarsh was no easy task, but to attempt to eradicate it was unimaginable.

I could sense the constant tension in Reaver's body language. It wasn't just the normal fear of Banshees or Hollowmen, it was the crushing weight of his past. His stance gave me determination in what I had originally come here to do. I needed to restore Oakvale.

"You Highness!" Walter was shouting from the far end of the ruins. " That's all of them, we cleared out the rest of the tombs." His breathing slowed and his voice grew softer as he walked towards us.

"Good. It seems that we're making progress. As difficult as this has been. The fog is gone, all that's left is picking up the pieces. The way to Bloodstone should be cleared, tell the rest of the men to go home. Make sure they eat and are well rested, they've fought hard. I'll finish up here." Walter, with a nod of his head and a slight bow, went to discharge the soldiers. Leaving Reaver and I alone.

"You go home as well, I'll finish here."
"No." He retorted. "We're not done here, there's still more ground to cover."
"Reaver. We're both tired and I'm not in the mood to argue. Go rest, I can tell this has put more weight on you then I expected. I'll take care of things."

He rested his hand on my face. I could see the reluctance in his eyes, but we both knew I was right. Initially he wanted to help destroy Wraithmarsh in hopes in would destroy his conscience, but in fact I believe it done the opposite. However, the restoration of Oakvale meant another opportunity to confront what he had done, to grant himself closure from those unhealed wounds so long ago.

I watched carefully as his broad shoulders slowly vanished over the hill, a bit of worry still in my heart. I sighed, turning my face to the remainder of the marsh. It was quiet, but not an eerie silence. It was more like the marsh was finally able to rest from the plague of the Shadow Court's actions. I trudged through the mud, feeling the sunlight slowly creep through the gray clouds. I slight smile formed on my face. My footing stopped as I reached my destination: Madame Ursula's Home for Little Lost Souls. I took a deep breath and raised my hands. With a simple maneuver fire slowly creeped up the molded wooden framework. So many people had died, and now the remains could die with them.

The sword and my side drug heavy in the dirt as I walked back towards Bloodstone, flames rising over the hilltop.

"Sparrow. Have you been listening to anything I've been saying?" Reaver's voice interrupted my thoughts. I could see his brow furrowed with concern as he gave me an inquisitive look.

"No sorry, I suppose I got lost in thought for a minute." I took a sip of my ale as the music of the pub drummed softly from the downstairs.

"I think it's about time we go home. We're both tired; physically and mentally. Lets go home." He stood and grabbed my hand, but the look in his eyes was hesitant. It was a quiet walked up the docks. He sat in his usual chair, staring into the crackling flames of the fire, the look in his eyes far off and distant. I punt my hands in his shoulders; I felt his body tense up.

"Is everything okay? You seem troubled."

"No," He caught himself. "I mean- I'm not sure. I saw her today. It could've just been the Banshees or the most, but I saw her." His voice grew broken and quiet as he finished his sentences. He continued to stare into the fire. "Some part of me wonders if it was real, but I know that's not possible. After all these centuries, why now?"

"Saw who Reaver?"

He continued to stare into the flames.

"My wife."