Luckily, the further north they climbed, the more bearable the summer heat became. In fact, it was colder at night than it had been just one moon cycle ago, despite the sun’s unrelenting progress.
Alphonse became dedicated to her journal, every morning that Enyo wasn’t invading her body, she would write, filling page after page. It was becoming a near obsession as the healer realized there was a high chance these would be her last memories.
Enyo was able to seize control more frequently as the days passed, and for longer stretches of time. There would be some mornings when Alphonse would wake up, eat, begin writing in her journal, and then appear beside the fireside at night, stomach growling furiously for food.
But Alphonse was fighting. She could feel the pressure on her heart, on her mind, and she would lean against it, holding it at bay for as long as possible. For hours, she would walk in silence, unable to play friendly games or chatter to keep her companion’s spirits up.
All she could do was walk and refuse Enyo entrance.
Of course, she lost. Eventually, Enyo would ambush her and take control.
The longer she denied Enyo, the more likely Alphonse would wake up in Tristan’s lap, or with her arms draped around his hips. It didn’t seem to Alphonse like an affectionate touch, but one of pure ownership.
She had quickly decided not to make a scene whenever she ‘woke up’ within his grasp. Instead, the healer would try to remain unchanging, making an excuse to get away and then return as herself. It was easier to pretend that Alphonse never touched the man, only Enyo did.
Easier for her pride, easier for her sense of morality.
Still, as the moon waned and then filled, the odd collection of travelers adapted and fell into new routines.
It was almost easy.
Except that it was the hardest thing Alphonse had ever done.
She suspected it was much the same for Etienne, who seemed to take the brunt of Enyo’s wrath and painful playful side. On top of that, Tristan and Etienne didn’t seem to get along very well. Alphonse could hardly blame Etienne on this, as Tristan was… Irksome.
Delyth, from what Alphonse was aware of, seemed unaffected by the flirtatious gambler.
One night Alphonse had confessed her fear that Delyth would enjoy Tristan’s company more than her own because he could spar and fight, which Alphonse could not.
The steady look the priestess had given her made Alphonse blush and admit it was a foolish fear.
The morning sun was overhead when the trail they had been following split into two. One path rose up up up a steep climb, the other cutting between two peaks in a dark and dreary looking swath through the shadow of the behemoth mountains.
Both looked ominous to Alphonse, and she hesitated as Delyth and Tristan discussed which route was safer. Swifter.
Would slow and safer be better than fast and hazardous?
“Etienne?” she murmured, having come to a stop beside him. Sometimes Alphonse thought he winced in her presence.
She wouldn’t blame him if he did.
“Do you think we should… Try to go our own way?” she whispered, voice so quiet it was barely audible. She didn’t want to attract Tristan and Delyth’s attention.
✶
Etienne started. He had been so focused on the discussion Delyth and Tristan were having. Now, he turned his attention to Alphonse, wondering how he had not thought of it himself.
Without the other two, it would be easier to bind Enyo. As it was, he had no idea how they would manage in the temple with two devoted followers struggling to help Enyo achieve greater power. Alphonse wouldn’t have to tell Delyth she had never intended to help the Goddess. They wouldn’t have to travel with Tristan.
The rogue was a constant wearing pressure on Etienne’s sanity. He didn’t understand how the others could tolerate him, always jabbing, always watching.
It was disturbing, the amount of attention the rogue paid to his companions. Alphonse was wrapped up in her battles with Enyo, and Delyth was just wrapped up with Alphonse, so neither of them seemed to notice.
But Etienne did.
Tristan was cold and calculating and cruel, all hidden neatly behind a mask of laughs and crooked smiles. And Etienne hated him for it, for slinking through their little group like a fox in a hen house.
Gods, it was appealing to leave them both behind. He could get more supplies. Possibly find a way to bind Enyo more permanently without Alphonse suffering adverse effects. But what would they do if Enyo took over with just Etienne to face her? She had proven she was more than a match for his strength, and if he used magic on her again… Even if they made it the entire way, alive and well, the other two knew where they were going. Delyth at least would have no trouble beating them there.
Still, Etienne wanted so badly to be away from the others that he did not immediately tell Alphonse his reservations. Instead, he just whispered, “How would we get away?”
“A holding spell? Or… or something to make them …” Alphonse's gaze drifted to Delyth. “Forget.”
Etienne looked down at Alphonse for a long moment, his eyes on hers. He could see the little ridge of water welling up just above her bottom lashes. “I can’t live with Enyo, Etienne. I need to be free,” she said.
He felt himself nodding without considering the consequences of their actions.
How could he possibly say no? Especially when this plan afforded them the possibility of truly getting rid of Enyo? He shuddered. This had been his fault, and if the others got their way…
Well, who knew what that would do to Alphonse?
“I can’t make them forget without better supplies, but I can knock them both out for a long while,” he whispered. “Long enough for us to get away. We’ll take the high path. That’s the one Delyth said was faster.”
In front of them, Delyth and Tristan had just come to some decision. It was now or never.
The priestess turned towards them and smiled at Alphonse, her face warm and gentle. Then Etienne dipped a hand into his pack, unstopping a vial of fermented valerian root to pour over the symbols he was etching into the dirt with one booted foot. Then, he commanded them both to sleep.
As one, Tristan’s and Delyth’s eyes rolled back, their knees softened. Both hit the ground hard, their limbs haphazardly strewn over the bare earth.
Etienne was pale when he turned back to Alphonse. “Come on. We’ve got to hurry.”
❀
Alphonse had to fight the urge to run over to Delyth, even Tristan, and check their pulses, their breath. The healer in her wanted to make sure they were well, but the survivalist in her screamed to run.
Picking up the hems of her skirts, Alphonse did just that.
Abandoning Delyth felt as if it was nearly killing her, but Alphonse knew keeping Enyo, serving Enyo forever… That would kill her. Alphonse didn’t know if the others had noticed, but she was starting to tire more and more easily. Her dresses were fitting loosely, despite eating her fill. Weight was simply dropping off.
Something was wrong. Not just with her heart and her mind, but her body as well. The healer knew it was Enyo, sapping her health and her strength.
Maybe Delyth would be better off? Her Goddess could remain sacred and powerful, instead of the insane vengeful creature Enyo had proven to be. She could return to her temple life and not have to chase a crazed possessed human through the woods. She could train and battle and…
Be happy. Alphonse wanted that for Delyth as badly as she wanted her own freedom. Delyth deserved happiness.
Little rocks dislodged from their path and scattered down the mountainside as the trail went higher and higher. Her breaths were coming harder and faster as they half walked, half jogged away from Delyth and Tristan.
One hour.
Two hours.
Three.
The sun overhead was starting to meet its apex. Her stomach grumbled, and her feet ached, and her eyes felt heavy, but, still Alphonse pushed on. They had to get away, f
ar enough away, that Tristan and Delyth couldn’t find them again. Couldn’t interfere with putting Enyo back in the darkness to which she belonged.
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
* * *
Her heart was heavy. Her eyes were heavy. Her limbs were heavy.
They didn’t dare light a campfire lest it alert anyone of their location, and they hadn’t hunted that day, so all they had to eat was dried trail rations. Alphonse ate hers silently as she looked at Etienne. He seemed as worn down as she was. Neither used to the day’s grueling pace.
“How long will they be asleep?” she asked, the sound of night creatures their only company, and even those quieting as she finally pierced the silence between them.
Etienne sat with his head and shoulders bowed. His jaw worked slowly at a mouthful of dried meat. “Twelve hours?” he said finally, as though unsure. “We need to sleep, Allee. And get an early start. They’ll be after us as soon as they wake.”
Alphonse wondered if Etienne felt guilty for leaving their companions in a pile on the side of the road, and her heart trembled.
Delyth…
The sickness purred, stroked that guilt. Yes. She had just abandoned the priestess. Just shoved her aside and tricked her… What kind of friend was Alphonse, to do that to poor Delyth?
Wincing, Alphonse pressed down hard on the thoughts, on the darkness within. It shuddered but quieted, and she opened her mouth to say something comforting to Etienne. That he had done the right thing, that he was fixing his mistake. That leaving Tristan and Delyth behind was for the best. The only way she’d be freed.
None of the words would come out.
So instead, the healer nodded silently and stood to go to her tent, only to realize no one had set it up for her, as had been the routine these past weeks of travel. And that when she did finally set it up, it would be to crawl into her bedroll and sleep alone. Mountain air nipped at her neck and hands already, and the sun hadn’t set fully—it would be a cold, miserable night.
Alphonse fought back tears and started the process of getting her tent and bedroll in order, but only in the privacy of her tent did she allow those tears to fall, guilt and regret warring with desperate hope.
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
* * *
Consciousness returned in pieces. Leaves and pebbles pressed imprints into Delyth’s cheek. Wind stirred the haphazard spray of her hair. Numbness cloaked her right wing, where it was trapped awkwardly beneath her.
Her eyes flickered open.
She was still at the crossroads, the track peeling off in three directions around her. Firs rustled from their posts on either side and the moon, bright for all that it was just a sliver, painted the scene in tones of silver.
Delyth’s head was full of cotton, her thoughts slow and fuzzy. She pushed herself up, one hand at her temple. There was a knot in her neck that rubbing wouldn’t move, and her wing was alive with needles.
It had been morning, hadn’t it?
They were deciding on a path to take, and eventually, Tristan had agreed with her. She’d turned to Alphonse where she stood with the wan light of sunrise brightening her face. And then…
Nothing.
Panic rose from her belly. Delyth looked down the way they had come, down both paths ahead. She yelled Alphonse’s name until she was hoarse, but no one answered. No one was there.
Why would they leave her? Delyth had proven herself, hadn’t she? She had Alphonse’s trust.
Right?
Had it been Tristan? He was the newest to their little group and still incredibly unpredictable. He had a lot to gain from getting Enyo to himself. If he had harmed Alphonse, colluded with Enyo somehow… Delyth’s hands twitched for Calamity. Her wings half opened. She could find them. Find them and kill him. Douse her hands in his blood.
She would carve him a new smile. Straighter and more permanent than his crooked grin.
Only, Tristan had been beside her. They’d been discussing which path to take. Etienne alone had stood near Alphonse. Etienne, whose magic could transform her wings.
A chasm opened up in Delyth’s chest.
This had to be Etienne and Alphonse working together. He couldn’t force her to abandon anyone. What had she done? Was it because she’d let Tristan join them? Was this some misguided attempt of Alphonse’s to spare her whatever lay ahead?
Gods, how selfish. You couldn’t just leave people behind to make yourself feel better about the problems they faced. Besides, there was no way Etienne alone was prepared to deal with the inevitable resurgence of Enyo. They had doomed themselves to failure, death, or worse.
Anger roiled beneath her skin, making an uneasy bedfellow to the anxiety she felt for Alphonse.
Gods, if anything happened to her…
The idea was too big, too unbearable. She had no idea how Alphonse had come to mean so much in the weeks since they met, but she had. There was no trying to pretend any longer. Delyth had to find them, had to convince Alphonse that she could bear whatever difficulties would face them, that she could protect them both.
At least she still had Calamity.
Delyth wrapped her hand around the hilt of the sword, and for a moment, she lost herself in the tide of rage and bloodlust that came with it. It had been so long since she’d had to use it.
But she was still the sword’s master.
With gritted teeth, Delyth regained control and leaped into the air, her wings angled in the direction of Calamity’s pull.
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
* * *
The sun had barely started its journey into the sky as Etienne woke, surprised to find Alphonse packing up. He was glad of it. Time was of the essence, and even a few hours would mean the difference between success and failure.
Alphonse was quiet as they hauled their packs onto their shoulders and made no attempt at conversation. Instead, she trailed along after Etienne, glancing over her shoulder every time he turned to check on her, perhaps measuring the distance between herself and their abandoned companions. Her countenance was haggard, with dark circles lining her eyes and a certain stiffness belying how deeply upset she was by this turn of events. She had forgotten to wear her veil.
But it was for the best.
Surely?
When they paused for water a few hours into their hike, Alphonse stood near the edge of the forest, her amber eyes locked on Etienne as he drank, though she glanced away when Etienne noticed.
Did she regret their escape? He was not even sure he did not. His every move was accompanied by the dread of Enyo’s next appearance, of having to deal with her alone.
And Alphonse looked so tired.
Etienne lowered his water skin.“Do you need to rest? We’ve got a good lead, and we don’t want to risk releasing Enyo.”
She smiled ruefully, and Alphonse crept over to the nearest boulder, her steps careful. Deliberate. “No. Don’t want Enyo to be released.”
Etienne relaxed slightly at her agreement. He knew that leaving the others behind was hard on her, but maybe, if they were careful, the two of them would be just fine on their own.
Sighing, Alphonse closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the sky, the soft morning rays dancing over the planes of her face.
She inhaled deeply.
As she exhaled, the few clouds skittering across the sun dissipated. Simply evaporated into hot mist.
Inhaling again, the day seemed to warm.
It was summer after all.
She exhaled and the leaves of the bushes and tall grasses off the path rustled in a phantom wind.
Inhaled, that sunlight gleaming on her brow.
Only…
That was sweat.
When had it gotten so warm?
In the distance, they could hear the whispering and rustling of the trees. The day was surely going to be a windy one if the breeze was audible from here…
Alphonse turned to look away from the sun towards Etienne. He was staring at her, and she smiled. “I’m glad I’m here with you,” she
murmured as the wind picked up, the whispering of the trees becoming louder and louder.
There was something not quite… right with Alphonse’s smile. She looked too peaceful, too at ease to be running from people she’d come to care about. She should be more worried. Only moments ago, she had even seemed exhausted.
With growing apprehension, Etienne nodded. He started to open his mouth to say something reassuring, but Alphonse was turning away, looking further along the ascending path.
There was a mephitic scent on the breeze, the sound of branches cracking.
With panic growing in his chest, Etienne let his gaze follow Alphonse’s just in time to see the first leaping flames erupt from the forest ahead.
She made no move to stand, to run. She didn’t react at all. Her tone had morphed into something amused. “Oh, look. It’s your just rewards.”
When Alphonse looked back, those flames were reflected in her eyes, and she was smiling broadly. An expression of joy. Of euphoria.
“Do you have a spell to protect you now, boy?”
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
* * *
When Tristan and Delyth had finally decided on a path to take, it had still been morning, bright and early.
When he woke, it was late afternoon.
Beside him, the warrior slumbered, her position awkward and uncomfortable-looking. Tristan rolled his neck. They’d both been out before they’d hit the ground.
In the space of a long breath, the rogue directed every curse in every language he knew at the mage-boy and his tricks. Damn them all to the Cursed Realms. The boy and the mouse and the halfbreed too, for trusting them so easily.
He turned away, leaving the halfbreed where she lay. She could figure it out herself when she woke up in who-knew-how-long. He was going to wring a skinny human neck. The fool. Had the boy really thought himself mage enough to contain her? He was nothing to those who had last tried, and not one of them could have managed the feat alone.
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