Heir of Cinders [FADING EMBERS #1] - ON HOLD

22.1 - The Invasion

Sagan crouched in wait among the shrubbery, fighting the itch of the leaves brushing against his face. He peered through the haphazard gaps in the leaves, his sights zeroed on a feathered lizard basking openly in the sunlight. A pipe was poised upon his hands, one end poking slightly out of the bushes and the other pressed to his lips.

His spine was starting to ache from the pressure of adopting such a position. Clearly I'm not suited for this, he grumbled, silently, making a note to look into early retirement upon his return to Southcliffs.

If he ever returned.

"Now," Sunji whispered into his ear.

Sagan blew with all his might into the pipe. A projectile sailed out of the other end, flying through the air in an elegant arc... and landing way too far from the reptile with a thud. The lizard reared its head, took one look at the dart, and fled the scene upon the realization that an incompetent hunter was after its life.

Sunji let out a frustrated huff, leaving the bushes and brushing away the bits of organic matter that had clung to her moist skin. Sagan followed suit, though his movements were more of a slow, painful lumber.

"Stupid. Idiot," Sunji scoffed, wrenching the blowdart away from the orkhus's hands and pushing a woven basket into his arms instead. "Dummy. You suck."

"Where did you learn so many Orkhese profanities?" Sagan asked.

"I may have taken the liberty to broaden the child's vocabulary in the occasional instances where I took control of your body," Ishtalia answered in his head, her syllables trembling with the effort of containing a laugh. Sagan groaned.

Ah, the joy of sharing mind and body with a cosmic entity who may or may not be going out of her way to make his life miserable.

Sunji stalked off to locate a new target, preferably one that had not been frightened by Sagan's blunder. Eventually, they spotted a small reptile with translucent wings perched lightly on a reed, which bent under its weight. Sunji ducked behind a nearby tree.

"Sagan see," she hissed with eminent annoyance. The stygenian child loaded a dart into the blowdart and lifted the other end to her lips. Her hazel eyes were narrowed to slits. She appeared almost hungry, almost predatory, in the way she held herself. Sagan watched closely in silent fascination. At that very instance, she looked less a child and more a hunter, out for the blood of her prey.

Many orkhus would kill to be in his position right now. He'd known numerous scholars interested in the study of sociology, with many among them eager to study the lives of the reclusive stygenians, who seldom opened themselves to strangers. To be accepted, even welcomed, into their society was the opportunity of a lifetime.

And of all the people it could have been given to, it was given to Sagan. Nicolaus Sagan, the one orkhus who liked nothing better than to live in seclusion, watching the stars.

The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that the gods were using him as their court fool. Really, what were the odds that so many rare opportunities should suddenly throw his life into a hurricane like this? The probability of such a sequence of events happening to him was statistically near nil.

Yet they still happened. Ishtalia would deny it whenever he asked, of course, attributing it to a case of abnormally bad luck. And don't even mention "fate" — that word seemed to hit a sour spot on the goddess's ego. Sagan knew better than to bring up that topic again. A ranting goddess inside one's head was something best avoided.

The sound of the dragon-fly collapsing to the dirt brought Sagan's attention back to the material world. Sunji's dart had made not the slightest noise as it zipped through the air and buried itself right into the dragon-fly's side. It was a clean, efficient kill. Sunji straightened back, her face beaming with pride.