13.

  Faelwen

  When I finally opened my eyes, the rolling green hills were gone. The world around us had transformed into an eerie expanse of marshland. Slimy, waterlogged islands jutted out of pools of murky water, surrounded by gnarled bushes.

  The ground beneath the horse’s hooves was a wet mat of moss. A ceaseless hum of insects filled the air, broken only occasionally by the cry of a distant bird of prey or the splash of fish that darted along the edges of stagnant pools.

  I stirred, trying to turn my head, but the sharp stab of pain in my back reminded me of the injury. Fresh warmth trickled from the wound, and I clenched my teeth to stifle the groan.

  “Good, you’re awake,” Ash said, slowing the horse to a halt. His voice carried a mix of relief and weariness. I grunted in reply, my throat too dry for words. Awake was the last thing I wanted to be. My body screamed in protest at every jostle of the horse.

  “I was worried for a while,” Ash continued, sliding off the horse and steadying me. “You wouldn’t wake up, and for a moment…” he trailed off, glancing at Artemis with a faint smile. “But your wolf here kept me reassured. I’m pretty sure he’d have made a lot more noise if things were worse.”

  Ash reached up, helping me down from the horse. My legs buckled beneath me the moment my feet touched the sodden ground. I slumped against him, barely managing a pained grin.

  “Looks like I’m out of energy,” I joked through gritted teeth. Ash looked amused as he carried me toward a cluster of rocks crowned with moss and shrubs. He laid me gently against a smooth stone, its damp surface surprisingly cool against my fevered skin.

  Artemis immediately curled protectively around me, his warm fur a stark contrast to the cold marsh air. He nudged his head under my hand, and I absently scratched behind his ears, watching as Ash busied himself setting up a small camp.

  These marshes were a place of dread. Once known as the Wetlands, the area had been a well-trodden path to the temple of Veras before the war with the Underworld. Now, they bore a darker name: The Marshes of the Fiend.

  The Fiend. A master of deception, able to take on alluring forms to seduce his victims and drag them into his realm. My gaze wandered to Ash who was rummaging through our bags. It was easy for one in trouble to get lost in the traps of the Fiend, is what Barnabas had written in his notebook. Just like our late High King Talron, who made a deal that let the Fiend roam the entire Mid Realm one day each year. But Barnabas speculated that the Fiend’s reach had spread in recent years.

  Stories whispered of the Fiend’s presence here, tales that chilled even the most sceptical heart. The most infamous legend spoke of a small, solitary boat gliding across these waters, steered by a spectral captain carrying a spear in his skeletal hand. It was said he aided the Fiend in collecting souls, dragging you into the Underworld.

  I swallowed, my throat suddenly very dry. What if those legends were true? What if Barnabas’ was right?

  Ash returned to my side, breaking my thoughts. He knelt beside me, offering a flask of water. I took it gratefully, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat.

  “The marshes are a good place to hide for now,” he said, his voice quiet but steady.

  “Even if the Fiend’s shadow lingers here, it’s safer than facing Orion’s forces head-on.”

  I nodded, though unease coiled in my gut. The marshes might hide us for a time, but who knew for how long? Orion’s words still lingered in my mind.

  “Was it true what Orion said? About you and the Fiend?” I asked, trying to read his facial expressions. He pursed his lips and turned to me, his eyes hiding a million emotions.

  “I won’t let the Fiend take you, I promise. You don’t deserve the same fate....” he responded, looking away, his jaw tightening.

  Before I could respond, he went over to the small fire he had built. Carefully feeding it twigs to coax it into a steady blaze, the red and orange glow illuminated his face, accentuating his high cheekbones and the faint shadows they cast.

  He reached into his pack and crouched again beside me, his lean, muscular frame close to my trembling, injured body. With careful hands, he guided me forward.

  “Lean forward so I can get a good look at that wound,” he said softly, his warm breath brushing the nape of my neck. The night crept in around us, veiling the world in its cool embrace. A pale moon loomed behind ghostly clouds, the summer air was crisp but my skin was feverish.

  My back burned as Ash gently lifted my shirt, exposing the wound. I hissed at the sting, muttering a string of curses, to which he replied with a teasing curse of his own before falling silent to focus on cleaning and bandaging me.

  “I don’t feel so good,” I managed to mumble as he began stitching a gash on my arm. Each pull of the needle sent shockwaves of pain through me, threatening to drag me into unconsciousness.

  “The wounds are starting to fester,” Ash muttered, frustration lacing his tone as he squashed a mosquito against his arm. He inspected the flattened bug with distaste before wiping it away.

  “These blood-sucking pests don’t help either,” he grumbled. I shook my head, the corners of my mouth lifting slightly.

  He finished his work and lifted my chin with a gentle finger, his brow furrowed as he studied me with worried eyes. His hands, rough yet tender, cupped my face.

  “Rest now darling,” he murmured. “I’ll hunt for something to eat.”

  Before I could respond he leaned forward, our noses barely touching. From this close I could see a faint scar underneath his eye.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  His lips brushed my forehead in a long, lingering kiss. His breath sighed against my skin as he pulled back. For a moment, he hovered there, his presence a comfort I hadn’t realized I needed. Then he rose and strode toward my bow and arrows, his steps brisk and purposeful. Artemis, ever watchful, stood and followed him into the encroaching darkness.

  Don’t fall asleep, he warned me, his voice brushing against my mind before vanishing into the mist.

  I won’t, I responded, grabbing Barnabas’ notebooks to read. It helped to get my mind off the strange circumstances we were currently in and the everlasting, gnawing doubt of Ash’s alignment.

  In Barnabas’ journal, my thoughts were quickly overtaken by the interesting lore he wrote about the different realms. I had skimmed parts of these notes before, but always something had interrupted me from studying it carefully.

  The world itself, according to Barnabas, was divided into four realms layered on top of each other. This paragraph read more like quick notes, than an actual history book that Barnabas always made me read.

  The world as we know it – working title

  It is the 3rd of the Fifth Moon, year 939 in the Third Era. Don’t forget to add this to the Lore of Our Universe tome for Faelwen to read.

  My breath caught seeing his wish to write this into the history book. Despite the brief pang of grief, I read on.

  Start note:

  From bottom to top there is the Underworld, the Fiend’s domain, inhabited by demonic entities and creatures born of shadow. Above it is our world, the Mid Realm. A realm with seas, forests, and skies, all governed by the cycles of the sun and moon. There are four human kingdoms ruled by their lords and the High King is centred in Westray. He has final say in every decision.

  Elves probably reside in the Primordial Lands. They have not been seen in the Ancestral Region since the Second Era.

  My eyes started to grow heavy as I flipped the page to read the rest of his notes. But I wanted to finish reading his notes. Wanted to know what he would’ve taught me if the Hunters hadn’t appeared that day.

  Above our world is the First Realm, the domain of otherworldly beings that act as intermediaries between Ancient Gods and mortals. And last is the Second Realm, a place of pure mystery. Here dwell the Ancient Gods, creators of our world.

  End of note.

  After reading all that, I could barely hold my eyes open. Reluctantly I closed the book and pulled my cloak from my belongings. I wrapped the fabric tightly around me, my thoughts going back to the warm nights in front of the fire with Barnabas as I slowly fell into a dreamless sleep.

  I must have dozed despite Ash’s warning, because moments later someone shook me awake, jolting my wounded back and forcing a groan from my lips. I blinked heavily to find Ash crouched before me, his hands firm on my shoulders.

  “I’m awake!” I barked at him, glaring at him through the haze of pain. A broad, cheeky grin spread across his face.

  “Thank the gods. For a moment, I thought you were gone, you moron!”

  Artemis huffed in agreement, spitting a strange fish onto the ground.

  I told you not to sleep, he chided.

  “I’m alive,” I snapped back at them both, “and I was having a wonderful dream where none of this hurt.”

  Ash laughed, shaking his head as he sat beside me.

  “Don’t you dare leave me to face this world alone, darling.”

  His teasing earned a wry smile from me, though it quickly dissolved into a painful coughing fit. Ash grabbed a damp cloth, wiping my face with a grimace of mock disgust.

  “You’re a mess,” he teased.

  “Thanks,” I said, the sarcasm dripping from my voice. He smiled faintly but refrained from responding. We ate in companionable silence, me and Artemis devouring the fish with gusto while Ash watched in mock horror.

  “Sometimes I think you two are more alike than you realize,” he quipped, stifling a laugh.

  “Travel together long enough, and you pick up each other’s habits,” I grinned.

  Ash raised an eyebrow, his scepticism evident. “So, at some point, I’ll start acting like you and your wolf?”

  The mental image made me laugh, and Ash joined in, his laughter light and genuine. Artemis, unimpressed, turned his back on us with an audible huff.

  Pathetic creatures, he muttered, biting into his share of the cooked fish, a preference he made abundantly clear to Ash earlier, much to the man’s frustration.

  Once full, I leaned against the rock, letting the fire’s warmth seep into my weary body.

  “What do you love most in life?” I asked Ash suddenly, breaking the silence. Caught off guard, he shrugged.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, feigning disinterest as he scribbled in his journal.

  “I love the smell of summer air with her clear blue sky, here and there some white puffy clouds,” I began, staring at the sky. The stars were partly hidden by the slowly drifting clouds.

  “And I love to watch the slow dance of the infinite stars beneath the pale moonlight.” For a moment, I fell silent, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of longing. Ash’s voice broke through the quiet.

  “What else do you love, darling?”

  I smiled softly. “The feeling of Artemis’s fur against my legs by a fireplace. The scent of pine trees after rain.”

  Ash’s amused chuckle drew my gaze.

  “Very specific,” he mused, leaning back against the rock. Shadows played across his face, and for the first time, I noticed the weariness behind his teasing eyes. There was a longing in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. The same sort of longing I got when I thought about my past life.

  “And you?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “What do you love most?”

  His grin faded, replaced by a wistful, distant expression, his lips pressed together. I saw him gulping and struggling to find words.

  “Something I can’t have,” he admitted after a long pause. “Something I’m not worthy of.”

  I reached out instinctively, brushing my fingers along his jaw, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone before letting my hand rest on his neck.

  “You deserve more than you think,” I murmured. Ash caught my hand, pressing it against his face and he kissed my palm. His touch sent a shiver down my spine, a flicker of warmth amid the pain and fatigue. I wished he would continue further up my hand, his lips caressing my skin. But I held myself back, offering only a quiet,

  “Thank you for saving me.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he replied, his cheeky grin returning as he settled back beside me. A smile tugged at my lips as I curled into my cloak, grateful for his presence.

  “You know I do not know a lot about you,” I started a new conversation.

  Ash chuckled, “Neither do I know a lot about you,” he responded. I raised my head a little to see his dark eyes scanning my face.

  “Can you tell me a little about where you’re from?”

  Ash sighed and his gaze wandered off. “There’s not a lot to tell.”

  “I’d like to know anyhow. It would help me trust you more,” I insisted and sat up straight to lean against him. He absently put an arm around me.

  “Like I said there is not much to tell. I was born beyond the mountain range. My family had fled to the Ancestral Region because of the war on half elves.”

  My eyes grew wide.

  “You mean to tell me you’re from the Primordial Lands?” Ash regarded me with a smile.

  “You didn’t notice?”

  “You don’t look foreign to me,” I responded. His grin widened. He brushed away his dark hairs to reveal slightly pointed ears. My eyes widened in surprise.

  “What about your family?”

  He clenched his jaw.

  “I’m the oldest of three children. My father was an elf and my mother was human. I don’t have strong connections to them anymore. What about you?”

  A pang of grief hit me thinking back at my family.

  “I lost my parents and younger sister when Necromancers came to destroy our town,” I responded, my voice trembling.

  He sucked in his breath and went still beside me.

  “I—I’m sorry for your loss.” He whispered after a moment and squeezed me closer to him.

  I fell silent not feeling the need to ask more about his past life. I curled up in his arms. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I wanted to trust him. I wanted to believe his words. Although I knew I had to be cautious.

  “Wake me at sunrise,” I warned him.

  “Or what, princess?” he teased, bringing back a bit of laughter in my eyes.

  “Or you and I will have a fight,” I shot back with a grin. His soft laugh was the last thing I heard before drifting off, a careful hope for safety. At least for tonight.