The Heirs of Death

44.2 Warsong

WARSONG

Ha-ámej had not moved an inch since the moment I'd left him, two days ago. Even his fog was idle in the corner it had curled into. And bleak, not a bit of strength in it.

He was still fighting, still clinging to this world with whatever little of remaining powers he owned.

His fog swirled, peeking as I slipped through the magic of his cell. He remained unmoving but his powers had snaked toward me, silent like never before. Not a story, not a whisper. It wrapped around my ankles, my knees, up to my shoulders in gentle waves. It caressed my soul like a forgotten touch, a ghost.

The Unknown Prince, after so many centuries of imprisonment and resistance could do nothing but fight as Death wrapped his fingers around him, as the end loomed near.

Not a finger moved as I leaned against one of the cold, rough walls, right where his body had crashed. Fissures snaked from the hole—that remnant of what horrors Dearcious made him endure. His scent was still heavy, thick as poison curling in my lungs with each breath.

The fog swayed around my feet, still curled on my ankles as I stared at the bones that had snapped loose, the rot and dust gnawing at them.

Not a movement, not a twitch of a bone as he whispered, mind to mind, 'You burned her.'

It was no question, but there had been a lick of fear in those letters waiting for clean confirmation.

'We did.'

Piece by piece over two days. All of her and the carpet stained with her blood. We left no trace of what happened, even threw her into the fire in intervals of time so that what remained of her scent couldn't accumulate. Mar was gone with the wind, nothing but a false mission hiding the truth.

'Good.'

Silence fell again and I tried desperately to find a lost whisper, to hear a forgotten story ringing out of the man on the ground. So little months had taken of him more than the previous centuries did.

'I found the Aubarious.'

His powers halted for a heartbeat before they moved again, some of them seeping back in the holes of his eyes. 'Take its heart and leave. Do not look back.'

'Why, Ha-ámej?'

'Take the heart and do not look back.'

I pushed myself of the wall, the skin-like, black fabric of my uniform light as I took a few steps, standing at his feet, arms crossed. He still faced up.

'Do not go back. For no one.'

I breathed out, thin, white threads of smoke curling in front of my face. 'How do I take the heart?'

I waited. I waited for a word to come out of him, for a damn clue, a bit of help. Not a word was uttered.

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose as I took another few steps, crouching next to his head.