by J. McSpadden
"Camille?" Theo cried out, sounding much further away than Camille expected. Between the sudden downpour and intensity of the attack, she'd completely lost track of the others.
"I'm here!" she yelled back in a wheeze, shoving with increased urgency at the downed Chimera.
With a hefty shove, she wriggled free of the matted, bloody mess. Her legs and chest were now a sickly black, her clothing soaked through. Spotting Theo in the distance, she took a step toward him but was immediately headed off by another Chimera. The beast snapped its menacing jaws at her, its lips curling upward as it growled. It didn't attack her. Instead, the creature herded her backward away from everyone else. Once she'd retreated considerably, he left her alone, keeping her stationary with a steady growl any time she tried to make a run for it.
"Cam, where are you?!" Theo barked across the distant expanse crawling with beasts.
Camille opened her mouth to yell a response, but her body froze as her Praetorian awareness crackled with sharp attention. Tiny jagged knives of apprehension zipped like lightning through her system. She whipped around to face the dense shadows of the forest, unsure of what lurked in its depths. The heavy clouds cloaked her surroundings in shadow, with the heavy blanket of rain camouflaging everything that lay beyond her line of sight.
"I'm not here to fight you, little dove," a voice said clearly, ringing out from the shadowy trees.
"Who's there?" Camille yelled back, blinking rapidly against the downpour. Icy rivulets ran down her face and neck like pricking needles, but it didn't chill her blood as much as the silky voice drifting to her ears from the shadowed forest line. "Show yourself!"
"Camille, honestly—I'm not here to fight," the voice went on, this time a little softer. A man emerged from the misty shadows, his face obscured by a cloak and hood. "I'm here to talk, that's all." His gloved hands stretch out before him in an honest invitation to converse, but Camille noted the sword at his waist and remained on guard.
"You've picked a hell of a time to want to talk. Who. Are. You?"
The man chuckled, a jingling sound that would have implied merriment if it wasn't for the grating needle-like effect it had on her eardrums. "Always with the attitude. So much spark, my little dove."
Camille's mouth filled with bile at the sickly-sweet way he said, my little dove. She felt as though she could practically breathe fire at this man. He radiated evil; she could smell the pungent scent of malevolence billowing from his every pore. "I am not your anything."
"I always said you had more personality than you knew what to do with." The man edged closer, bringing his overtly pale skin into view. His rounded yet firm jawline, the color of fresh snow, blended perfectly upwards to the shockingly white hair slicked down over his skull. A thin sloping nose angled over wide full lips, tinged slightly purple around the edges, giving him the look of a dead man walking. He squinted at her through the sleeted downpour, the minty green orbs ringed in brilliant silver. They twinkled as he looked her up and down with a sharp gleam like that of a tiger stalking its prey. "You wound me little dove. How could you ever forget this handsome face?" he said, his voice tender and seemingly genuine as though Camille had forgotten a dear friend.
"I don't know you," Camille hissed, glancing behind her to locate Theo and Charlie. She could barely make out their distant shapes, as they lunged and twisted wildly against the growing number of Chimera surrounding them.
She had a nagging desire to run in the opposite direction of the stranger standing coolly in front of her, but she held her ground. She wouldn't give in to her fear; Theo could hold his ground a little longer, and Camille was sure Charlie could too.
"I assure you we most definitely have met. You haven't fully recovered your memories yet, have you?" The man peered at her with a sharp intensity that went to the depths of her bones, grating against her calm reserve unrelentingly.
Camille couldn't help but return his stare through the heavy rain, desperately trying to push away the images now clawing to the front of her mind. His voice she did remember. A slow serpentine memory slithered from the depths of her past to the forefront of her mind, and she pressed it away with sharp distaste. "You know nothing about me!" Camille said, her tone clipped and unyielding.
"The memories we share will return in time, sweet dove," he said slowly, looking her up and down with bemusement.
"Wait..." Camille said with sudden recollection, though not from her past. "You're Metus Craven," Camille snarled. Jacob and Brian had talked about the green-eyed King Regent, the man in charge of the throne in the High King's absence. She couldn't remember a single memory, but she did know who he was, and her stomach coiled like a mass of slithering eels at the realization.
"Ah yes, so you do know me. Bravo—I knew you would. I do prefer King Regent though, my dear, if you don't mind," he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "I'd hope a person like myself would make an impact on your memories," Metus said with a satisfied grin. His confident tone struck an irate nerve in her body, and any weakness his surprise appearance had inflicted on her extinguished instantly. "It's been a year and some moons since I last saw you, yet so little has changed. You look so much like her, you know. Even after the grueling lessons, I put you through. You have her eyes."
Camille went into a Praecollection so fierce and charged with pain and agony that her knees almost buckled beneath her. A sharp ache surged from her neck to her extremities, and she felt the floating sensation of death just out of reach. She begged for it, longing for the pain to be over.
Grasping at her neckline, she searched for the source of pain but felt only her rain-slicked skin and heated blood pumping furiously beneath the surface. Another tiny fissure opened through the wall of her mind, and a surge of memories spilled forth, as fresh and vivid as though they'd happened the day before.
She glared at the man now standing just a few feet away from her. Crippling images assaulted her: gleaming metal tables laden with sharp needles, blades, and surgical tools, the entire room sterile in its whiteness, nothing out of place. The cold bite of metal resting against her neck, draining almost every ounce of life she had. She could practically smell the bitter stench of disinfectant—it had been her prison, her tomb, her own personal hell.
"It was you," she choked out. "You helped the High King keep me captive in Alpha Quarter!"
She barely noticed the flush of blood racing beneath her cheeks and neck, the tingling pricks of heightened energy emitting from her fingertips down to her toes. Every molecule within her sizzled with rage at a capacity she'd never felt before. It was addicting, intoxicating—and she didn't want it to end.
"Captive? Such a strong word," Metus said, his lips turned downward with a slight shake of his head as though bewildered by her reaction. "I saved you from imminent death. And look at us now: swords at the ready and preparing for battle," Metus crowed over the screaming wind.
"I was nothing more than an experiment to you. You stole me from my Praetorian duty; you tortured me!"
"I was trying to help you control your power, Camille! You misunderstand me, even now. I only want to help you."
"Help me?! You're sick—you and that vile monster you call a King!"
He shook his blond head, hair slicked back to the curves of his skull by the torrential downpour. To many, Metus would appear an attractive man, his face pleasantly round but not overly so, his brow line straight, his nose a little slope into a slight upward turn at the end. His posture was stern like he had a steel rod for a backbone, his shoulders yanked into place, emitting an air of confidence Camille wasn't sure he had the right to demand. A slight smirk lifted the corners of his lips, but she felt it was an act: he was afraid of her.
"Let's just calm down first," Metus said, voice brimming with fake sweetness. "It's good to see the rumors of your location are true, obviously, as you're standing here before me."
"You've seen me, so I suggest you leave before I add your carcass to the growing pile of dead Chimera." Camille pointe
d the end of her sword straight at Metus's chest to support her threat.
His eyes widened at Camille's deadly display of anger. "You think you're the only reason I'm here?"
"Camille!" rang out a deep voice, one like molten steel—Vesyon. She immediately felt safe, and the deathly black ink slowly receded from her limbs as quickly as it'd spread. She was safe; she was no longer alone.
"Big surprise, Vesyon Vestra to the rescue," Metus bit out sharply. His eyes, which had been pleasant and almost shockingly radiant in color, turned black and menacing in less than a second.
"You're a Praetorian," Camille said in a slight state of shock.
"Keen observation," Metus snapped back. "Obviously your protector doesn't watch over you all that well."
"He doesn't keep me imprisoned to experiment on either," Camille snorted, her anger capped at a manageable level now that Vesyon was within yelling distance. It was startling to experience the immediate calm Vesyon's presence had on her, like a balm to her scattered nerves.
Despite her reaction to Metus's closeness and her desperation to get away, she wanted to know why he'd gone to such lengths to separate from the rest of her group.
"He treats you like a sheltered dog, keeping information from you that you rightly deserve to know. I never kept anything from you, Camille," Metus said venomously. "I'm certain Vesyon knew where to find you in the seven years we shared together—so why'd it take so long to show up?"
Camille paused, unsure of what to say. She still had no idea why she'd been sent to live with Peter, nor what Vesyon had been doing in the time beforehand. The memories she'd recovered were few and far between, mere snippets, and she couldn't be sure of their authenticity.
"Do you even know what happened to your mother, or why your memories were removed?" He snapped, waiting for a response from her, but when nothing surfaced, he smiled at her. "Your blank expression tells me no." Metus glanced from Camille's face to the dwindling group of Chimera keeping Vesyon, Theo, and Charlie just out of reach. "Looks like our reunion is about to be cut short, but do yourself a favor, little dove, and ask questions. They're keeping information from you. Despite what they say about me or your past, it's detrimental to you to be kept in the dark. You deserve to know the truth, no matter the cost."
"Not that it's any of your concern, but Vesyon's told me everything I need to know."
Metus shook his head, grimacing with what appeared to be pity. "You sure about that?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You're a liar," she said, her voice finding more strength as she glared at his twisted smirk. "You're the last person I'd trust in the whole damn kingdom."
"Then you're a fool, Camille. Vesyon can't protect you—not from what's going to happen to Aspera. The High King has plans for you; I suggest you prepare for what's to come."
"I don't care about what the High King has planned, and I sure as shiat don't need your advice."
A soft chuckle erupted from between Metus's lips as he shook his head. "Naiveté is not so attractive on you, little dove. I highly suggest you leave this pathetic village before it's too late; there'll be a fleet of Equestrians here in two hours. They don't plan on leaving survivors."
"A fleet?" Camille asked with a growing sense of panic as a swarming image of the men that attacked her slipped into her mind. She batted it away with disgust, hoping that she would be strong enough when the time came to fight off not just two soldiers, but an entire fleet of the High King's Equestrians.
"Heed my warning: the High King isn't a tolerant man. You have two hours to leave." His eyes quickly changed back to their crisp, vibrant green before he bowed his head and turned to walk away.
"So you can capture me as soon as I'm away from Vesyon? Not happening!" Camille shouted as Metus sauntered into the veil of darkness.
He stopped abruptly, barely visible among the bare trees. "I didn't come here to collect you, little dove. Didn't Vesyon tell you?" He chuckled again, and the humorless tone left a spread of gooseflesh across her arms and legs. "There are more pressing matters at hand. Besides, when the High King demands your presence, there'll be no avoiding it. You can't outrun his rule, though you're welcome to try." He turned without another word and slipped into the shadows, disappearing. The Chimera appeared to follow, edging away from the battlefield as though marching in line to his silent command. Camille was in too much shock to process his retreat or his words and stood frozen until the clearing roared with the sound of rain battering the ground with unrelenting force.
"Camille!" Vesyon yelled again, this time his voice just behind her right shoulder.
She spun, squinting against the sleet as it pounded against her naked cheeks. "I'm here," she uttered softly, before the adrenaline that'd been holding her up dissipated.
Camille sank to her knees on the icy ground as memories swarmed her vision: warm blood soaking through her clothes, running down her arms and splashing against her face. It knocked the raging energy entirely out of her. She couldn't shake them and was hard-pressed to even want to process any of it. Closing her eyes only made it worse. She saw a woman ducking down in fear as Camille's sword curved toward her collarbone. Children cried and begged Camille not to hurt their mothers, their sisters, their brothers—but they were all eventually silenced by the sharp edge of her blade.
"H-how could I," Camille gagged, clutching her head and keeling over into the mud.
It was Charlie Town; she was seeing the massacre and destruction dealt out by her own hands. The memories rammed into her, one gory second after the next pounding into her skull like a battering ram.
"Camille, look at me!" Vesyon called over the howl. "What happened?! Tell me!"
The shaking began from deep within her chest before radiating outwards through her limbs. She felt powerless to stop it, and fright choked her into silence. The intensity of her Praecollection pressed against her eyes and temples with immense force, digging its fiery fingers into her skull.
"What's happening to me?" Camille burst out before raking her fingers against her eyelids, praying the current vision would end:
She was running through a village, through the rain of blood and gore. Fire surrounded her on all sides, but she pushed on; she felt like a machine on overdrive. She slowed at the sight of a particularly familiar man and a young, brunette woman. Both clung to one another, the mark of family. It sickened her, their embrace and their joy of life, and her insides began to boil.
She was standing in a dark room surrounded by decrepit-looking Asperians all dressed in black. It was to hide their wounds; their blood. Nobody saw the darkness of pain inflicted on a body covered in black. She raised her blade and slaughtered them, without thought, without hesitation. There was a sharp jolt at her neck, signifying it was time to move to the next target.
"Again," the voice said without emotion.
She was in a room of cold stone, huddling in the corner farthest away from the door she'd learned to dread. Her entire body ached with the struggle of continuous pain, yet in the silence of her stone seclusion, she had a glimmer of peace: solitude.
The door opened, and she cringed, body recoiling over what they'd make her do next. "No," she mumbled between cracked and bleeding lips. "Please, I can't anymore."
"Camille," a heavy voice said in her ear, soft and determined. "It's me, Vesyon. I'm here to take you home."
Her mind had clung to his name, sifting through the endless folds of memories for recognition. He was there, somewhere. She knew his smell: dark cedar and heavy smoking tobacco. He lifted her away from the cold stone room, and the lights in her mind blinked out.
"It's okay, Camille, I'm here. Everything is all right; you're all right."
Camille heard Vesyon's voice, felt the firm grip of his arms cradling her against his chest, and felt the warm fur of Neeko at her side, but her mind remained in the past.
"Make...it...stop!" Camille sobbed, clutching at Vesyon's shirt as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Please, make it stop!"
Vesyon pulled her shaking body close, pressing her ear to the place his heart-beat loudest. "Listen, Camille. Focus on my breath. Listen to my heart and try to emulate it. You must calm down, you must resurface."
She heard it, the steady thump of blood pulsing through his system, and focused on the regular rise and fall of his chest. Her hands pressed into him wanting to absorb the heat moving beneath the surface of his skin. With every breath, she heard the rush of movement through his lungs, the thud of his heart, and it rolled in her ear like the comfort of a sheltering cocoon.
"That's it," Vesyon whispered. "Calm down."
The images disappeared in a cloud of wispy thoughts until all she heard was the siren whistle of the wind through the trees.
"Camille," Vesyon spoke slowly, allowing her mind to wrap around his words. "I need you to tell me what happened."
What happened? She had no idea what happened. One minute she was talking to Metus, and the next she was on the ground being attacked by a torrential storm of memories she never wanted to remember. Worst of all, Metus had given her news that awakened a new sense of terror in her: they only had two hours to escape.
Her voice felt trapped in her throat, and a constricting pull against her vocal cords kept her silent longer than she meant to be. "It was him," Camille finally mumbled. "The King Regent."
"You saw Metus?" he asked quickly, lifting her into his arms with ease as he walked.
"Yes."
Vesyon led the small group of soldiers he had arrived with, alongside Theo and Charlie, back toward the compound with Neeko bringing up the rear. The rain continued as they trampled through the icy ground, their heads bent downward.
"What'd he tell you?" Vesyon asked as he stepped into the main square of Romeo Village.
Camille's head collapsed against his shoulder. "We have two hours before the Royal Fleet attacks."
Chapter Thirteen
