Sentinel

Chapter 30 - Fix it with flowers

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Chapter 30 - Fix it with flowers

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“I don’t understand. Why did you leave? We could have made him look the fool, showed the people how useless he is! We could have--“

Skye cut Luke off, her pointed finger inches from his face.

“If I have to explain it to you, again, then you aren’t ready to accept it.”

The three were in the blacksmith’s workshop. It seemed the only place they could escape the throngs of people following them since the altercation with the Queen and her Advisor an hour ago. After several desperate attempts to lose the crowds in Alguarde’s streets, Karrosh had opened his doors to them and offered refuge.

Even with the blacksmith’s fierce reputation holding back the majority, she’d nearly been sucked back into the sea of eager bodies while attempting to reach safety. Only the combined effort of Luke and Jesse, each taking one of her hands freed her from the crowd’s grasp.

Skye now stood backed against the furthest corner in the workshop. The Silverborn had placed themselves -- whether by conscious choice or not  -- between her and the door. Jesse’s eyes flickered nervously around the room.

The sound of Karrosh’s hammer resonated through her bones with each strike on the metal. Skye withdrew her hand from Luke’s face and broke eye contact. She pulled the cloak tighter around her despite its bloodstained edges. It was the one thing they’d been unable to replace in the short time before rumours spread and people gathered.

The experience had shaken her. A lot.

Even now, away from the touching, questing hands that’d grabbed her arms, fingers digging into her skin, Skye was tense. A playful punch from Luke, the kind she’d been exchanging frequently an hour ago had her flinching and wanting to run.

She hated the way her hands shook. She hated that she couldn’t control the surfacing memories, or the magic coursing through her system. Most of all, she hated feeling weak.

Skye pulled a hand from within the folds of soft material. A green spark danced across the surface.

Magic. It’s been worse ever since I’ve had magic.

Shadowy figures danced in the corner of her vision. She knew from experience that twisting her head or centralising them wouldn’t make them clearer. They haunted her wherever she went. Figments of the past, dredged up by magic in the moments she lost control.

Why are they following me? She shifted her eyes, trying to glimpse a feminine figure encroaching on her left. Is it because my soul isn’t confined as it once was? Has my soul somehow connected with the Nether enough that my memories are reflected in it?

She looked up to the roof in silent prayer.

Kia, I need you. I can’t do this.

Skye squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that no answer was coming. The celestial she’d come to rely on was confined, deep within the shadow’s realm. Or so Skye imagined. The Master’s eyes were burned into her memory like the corruption was burned into her shoulder.

She found herself wondering how many more ways he could mark her soul before he was done with her.

Luke appeared to recover from his confusion after being questioned mid-rant.

“Accept what?” asked Luke. “There’s nothing to accept! The Advisor is a pig-faced snivelling coward who belongs in a ditch, not in one of the highest positions the kingdom has to offer!”