[Clay]
Clay and Quin fought all the way to the edge of the inner circle. But regardless of their zeal and drive, the endless hordes of undead forced them back. Injuries piled upon injuries. Yet, they spared no time to let them heal and marched ahead. Quin butchered the undead to get the ashes, while Clay chained the different types to bring back to Thorin. Because they bit off more than they could chew, they often lost their prisoners and were beaten down by fresh mobs of undead. Nevertheless, they continued to hunt.
Eventually, with a pile of Ashes of Death and a crowd of prisoners in tow, they retreated and made their way back to Thorin. They could test everything they had gathered and hunt again if nothing worked. Something had to work. It must. Clay clung to the thought.
Quin cast his
“Hmm?” Quin frowned as his spell ended. “He’s in a different direction.”
Clay’s heart skipped a beat. He worried that brat might’ve taken drastic measures. “Is he inside the inner circle?” he asked.
“No,” Quin said. “He’s still in the outskirts, but not where we came from.”
“He might’ve lost his way,” Clay said, heaving a sigh of relief.
With the spell determining their direction, the two brothers dragged the chained undead and headed towards Thorin. After several grueling minutes of hauling the struggling weight behind them, they reached the edge of the mist.
? At once, it drew back, revealing a giant banyan tree.
They gaped in awe.
There he was, sleeping peacefully against the trunk with a serene smile on his face. Will-o’-the-wisps hovered around him like fireflies, embellishing his tranquil garden. The Direwolf lay snuggled against him, ever his defender. Batches of undead lingered in the mist, poised to execute his commands. And a swarm of Wraiths watched over him from the crown of the tree.
They had never seen a sight so bizarre. That was their brother, yet he felt like a being beyond their grasp. He looked ethereal, as though this world itself struggled to hold on to him.
……
[Thorin]
“Close your mouths,” Thorin said with a chuckle when he heard their footsteps. “I’m still alive.”
“What happened here?” Quin asked, looking around the place. As they came in, all the other undead receded without leaving a trace behind. Just the will-o’-the-wisps remained, though they refused to come close to Clay and Quin.
“Nothing,” Thorin said. “Mother called me here, then I ended up sleeping.”
“What did she want?” Clay asked, fists tightening.
“Who knows.” Thorin shrugged. “What are you guys dragging around?” he asked, looking at the chained undead.
“Try killing them first,” Clay said. “Then we’ll try the ashes of death.”
Thorin laughed. “Fine.” He let his chained blades fly. Even though he knew it wouldn’t work, it was his brothers’ hard work after all. The blades slaughtered all the undead, and he waited for his heart to devour them after offering a prayer. But as expected, the method failed. It had already failed him when he killed the last Wraith.
“See, it won't work,” Thorin said. He tried every variety they had brought, one after another. None worked. At least now, his brothers would stop being so reckless, he hoped.
The lacerations and the gouges on their bodies had dried and darkened. Even the blood and the flesh around them had gone black with rot. They would have to cut the dead skin to let the wounds heal now. It hurt Thorin to see them like this. But alas, his concern fell on deaf ears. Clay and Quin were already preparing to head out again.
“Eat the ashes now,” Clay said. “See if it works.”
“Must I?” Thorin asked, backing away from the vials shoved at him. “That’s the remains of the undead. You’re asking me to eat the undead.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’ve been eating undead till now anyway,” Clay said. “Eat.” He glared at Thorin and was ready to force the vial down his throat.
“That’s just a figure of speech. This is literal,” Thorin murmured a complaint, but he still downed a vial. The ashes were dry, bitter, and spicy. His saliva dissolved them, and they slid down his throat with a gulp.
Thorin closed his eyes and focused on the condition of his heart. But the ashes did nothing for it. Instead, within a minute, his bruises faded and his cuts healed.
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“It really has healing powers,” Quin exclaimed, eyes widening.
“Did it work?” Clay asked eagerly.
“No,” Thorin said with a weary smile. “My other injuries healed, but my heart remains the same.”
Clay took a deep breath. “Then we’ll go and capture more variety of undead.”
Thorin shook his head and sighed. “We’ve already tried them all,” he said. “There’s none left anymore.”
“If the variety doesn’t work, we’ll hunt higher-leveled undead,” Clay said, and Quin agreed with a nod.
“Yeah, it’s also good this way,” Thorin said, laughing. “Let’s all just die together.”
“We won't die,” Clay said, squinting. “You won't either.”
“You will if you keep this up,” Thorin said.
“Alright, enough with the quarrel,” Quin said and butted in between. “You’ve been fighting like children.”
“Sit and rest here for a while,” Thorin said, bringing out the healing spellcards for his brothers. “This place seems like a safe zone. We should be good for now.”
At last, they listened to him and let the healing spells shower them with sugary mist after he sliced away the rotted flesh. The sweet aftertaste even lingered on the back of Thorin’s throat. But alas, once recovered, they went back out again. And so, Thorin spent his days beneath the banyan tree.
His brothers came back often, bringing with them chained crowds of undead and piles of Ashes of Death. Sometimes they came back barely standing, bloodied and torn. Thorin just heaved a sigh of relief whenever they returned alive. Whenever they were late, his heart stayed lodged in his throat.
One day, Quin fractured his arm in a tough fight against another Ghoul. So, he stayed behind with Thorin to rest and heal, while Clay continued the hunt alone. He pushed himself harder and harder, returning with horrific injuries to show for his maddening drive. Regardless of how he tried, however, the weeks slipped by. Thorin’s time drew near, and he was withering away.
Byram too came to meet him after he heard about his situation from Quin, when Quin went out to look for any information that could help them. Albeit he failed. Byram was in tears once they met and broke into sobs when Thorin consoled him.
“Come, sit with us,” Thorin said and led Byram to the makeshift camp by the banyan tree where he stayed. Quin sat there already, arm in a sling, barely touching the food on his plate.
“Where’s Clay?” Byram asked, sniffing, when he took his seat.
“Out there, being crazy like always,” Thorin said, then looked at Quin who clinked his plate with his spoon. His eyes had lost their focus. Soon, they might lose their light. Thorin was distraught, concerned about his brothers’ wellbeing. But they were as stubborn as him. Both just refused to listen.
“Quin,” Thorin said softly. “I have something I want to say. Will you hear it?”
He finally raised his head and looked at Thorin, though with dead eyes. “I won't be able to fulfill my end of the deal with that old man Rayliegh, I can't marry his granddaughter now. But we already took and used the dowry he gave us. Can you earn and return them all to that old man with a bit more on top? I don’t want him to think we were a bunch of ingrates.”
“I don’t want to.” Quin broke his silence, at last, though with a hoarse voice that choked. “You do it yourself.”
“I will if I can,” Thorin said. “But just in case, can you do it for me? There’s also the task from that man who gave us the inception spell. You two will have to do it on your own now. Will you, please?” In the end, Thorin pestered him a lot before Quin begrudgingly nodded. “I had one more thing.”
“What?” Quin asked.
“Look for the Aether Guild,” Thorin said. “Don’t give up on our house. Even if it’s destroyed, rebuild it with Clay. It’s not just for sentiments alone. Our house will become your confidence to thrive in this world, I’m sure of it. It will be your foundation. Don’t give up on it easily. Can you promise me that?”
Quin nodded again.
“There’s also this Direwolf,” Thorin said, lifting the wolf pup onto the table. “He seems attached to me, so let him stay with you. Give him a name. Make him family.”
Quin nodded.
“One final thing,” Thorin said. “Don’t make revenge your only purpose once I’m gone. Pass this on to Clay too. If you find a chance, destroy that girl and all those people. But if you can't, don’t burn yourself in the fire of vengeance. As long as you’re alive and keep getting stronger, you’ll get a chance to end their lives.”
Quin nodded again but with clenched fists, gritting his teeth.
“Byram,” Thorin said, looking at Byram, who stared at his feet, tears dripping down his eyes. “If you’re planning on staying with us, you have to become a Magus. As my brothers become stronger and stronger, the threats they’ll face will become greater. If you remain a mortal, you won't survive for long. So, try and find a way to become a Magus. Become our family.”
“I will,” Byram whispered, wiping his tears, sniffing.
“Stop crying already,” Thorin said, clicking his tongue. “Alright, that’s all. I’m tired. I’ll go to sleep now. You guys finish your meal. Byram, keep an eye on this oaf. Make sure he finishes his plate. I’ll see you guys when I wake up.”
He stretched his body with a groan and walked over to the banyan tree. His body had become gaunt over the days, his footfalls light as feather. He settled against the trunk and closed his eyes, a peaceful smile lingering on his face. He wished he could see Clay again. Just one last time. He had things he wanted to say to him. Alas, it could never be.
Today was his last day.
“Live well,” he murmured for his brothers but only the wind heard him. “Live for my share too.”
His heart beat for the last time.
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