by Talis Jones
Her father half-rose in protest but his bones shoved him right back down and he could only look on with a mixture of terror, exhaustion, and illness. Cassandra, however, managed to knee the man sharply between the legs and slipped away quickly to restore some distance between them.
“What of Marius?” he growled savagely.
“He's dead and the other is soon to join him,” Cassandra reported emotionless. Her eyes narrowed and with a tilt of her head she asked, “What will you do now?”
“This house has fallen to infection,” he mused darkly, his eyes bright with growing madness. “I was informed that when illness such as this appears that their possessions ought to be burned.”
Cassandra's eyes widened as he threw her words back at her and comprehension struck. “No.”
Before any counter-plan could form in her thoughts his hand struck her hard knocking her to the floor where she struggled to straighten her thoughts and grasp onto consciousness. In a rush he snatched up his pack and slammed the door, but that was not what sent her stomach plummeting to her toes and her heart into her throat. It was the sound of a barricade forming beyond their only escape. Forcing her body to stand she staggered towards the door and pulled with all her might but the moment her dazed limbs managed to swing it open she saw it was too late. The brute was piling anything he could find to keep it blocked. Crates, barrels, rusted farm machinery, skeletons from a past life now raised to drag theirs into the depths. She couldn’t shift her way through without help.
In a panic Cassandra grabbed her father's shoulders and shook him, desperate for his response, but even as flames began to lick the wooden cottage and smoke slithered in through the cracks all she received from the man who raised her like his own child was a soft useless whimper.
“Please, father,” she cried. “Please.”
With great effort he lifted his head from his fever-induced stupor and met her nightmare-filled gaze with one of gentleness. “Do you still dream of the Island?” he wondered almost calmly.
Everything in Cassandra's body screamed to run, to save herself, but she recognized his question. “Yes, I do.”
Relief sagged his shoulders. “Then he will come for you and Liam,” he breathed. “You will be safe. Now let us sleep and await that grand adventure...”
His head returned to the table nuzzling into his folded arms like a pillow, peace smoothing his brow. Wild with emotion Cassandra shook him violently. “No! Please, please wake up!” But he was gone and if she didn't run now she would join him in a fate of ash.
Grabbing a stone pestle she flung it at a window and used a long stirring spoon to clear out the glass shards before dragging her small body through the tight square space. She only managed to make it halfway out before she remembered Liam. With a heavy pause she finally shoved herself back inside, pulling her sleeve across her nose and mouth against the acrid smoke. Stumbling towards the cellar she slid down the ladder before throwing open the secret door where Liam tumbled out.
“Cassie!”
“Come on!” she shouted impatiently. Tugging his arm he managed to find his feet and they climbed the ladder with haste. Cassandra held Liam's hand tightly to keep him from falling and led him to the window she'd cleared earlier. Far easier than she'd expected he hoisted himself up and pulled himself toward freedom. Wasting no time she followed suit.
Collapsing onto the insultingly vibrant earth below she attempted to run but her smoke-filled lungs allowed her only a few steps before her legs collapsed. Desperate she tried to drag her body further from the growing inferno that was her home but between the smoke, the exhaustion, the heartache, and the rash that she'd kept hidden, her body stole away her desire to live and instead swallowed her with darkness begging to die.
Just as her mind teetered at the edge of an abyss she felt someone's hands under her arms, dragging her body towards cooler air. “D-don't give up, Cassie,” a soft voice begged. Liam's voice. He might have a crippled leg but he was strong and he pulled her away from the fire even as his own lungs wheezed against the smoke. “Help me!” he called and vaguely she wondered who he could be calling out to. Their home was rather remote.
Strong arms suddenly lifted her up and carried her swiftly through the trees before laying her gently between the roots. Liam was coughing somewhere nearby.
“Come on, wake up girl,” a deep voice coaxed her. Curiosity must be stronger than fear because her eyes snapped open and the wild face looming over hers nearly sent a scream rushing through her charred throat. Dressed like a character in one of those adventure novels Liam was so fond of, a man with a graying beard sat back onto his heels and waited for her to gather her wits.
“Who are you?” she managed at last, her voice little more than a rasp.
“My name is Titus,” he answered. “You're dying, Cassandra.”
No need to point out something quite so obvious, she thought with a flash of irritation. “How do you know my name?”
“And if you'd like I can take you to a place where they will not play your funeral drums,” he continued, ignoring her question.
“Who are you?” she demanded, sending herself into a painful fit of coughs that sent tears down her cheeks.
His ancient gaze took her in for a moment before slowly reaching into his pocket and removing a charred painting of a cove. Immediately she recognized it.
“How did you get one of my father's paintings?” she asked puzzled, suspicious, and openly possessive.
Titus ignored her questions. “Böcklin asked if you still dreamed of the Island. Even at his age he never stopped, in fact he painted it every moment he could find, but he’s lived his life and now the question is whether or not you will live yours.”
“The Island is r-real?” Liam gasped from behind causing Cassandra to jolt in surprise having already forgotten him.
“Of course it is,” he grinned. “It looks different to everyone in dreams, but it's real as any place to those who live there.”
“C-can we go?” Liam's voice was so innocent, so hopeful. “Can we r-really escape this h-horrible place and go t-to the Island?”
Titus tilted his head and a gentle frown settled between his brows. “I take the dying. You, young sir, are in reasonably good health while your sister here has both illness and smoke in her lungs. She has but minutes while you have years.”
“Please,” he whispered desperately. “This-s world is not k-kind to crip-ples. If-f you leave me h-here I wil-l die.”
“How old are you?” Titus asked curiously.
“Sixteen.”
“Then perhaps we'll meet again in two years.”
“No!”
Titus raised a hand to calm Liam down. “Easy. Perhaps, if your sister asked it of me, I could allow it. She's important to the Island after all so a deal could easily be struck to gain her passage.” He turned his ancient gaze upon Cassandra's fading one. “What say you, Feuer? Shall we allow him to tag along?”
“P-please, Cassie,” Liam begged softly, his face desperate and so afraid of being left alone. “Please.”
Cassandra's heart hardened. This was her chance to start fresh, to achieve her dreams, to grasp life by the throat and drain every drop until she was satisfied. This man said she was important and she would be. There would be no room for a past to drag her down.
“Leave him.”
“Cassie!” Liam cried, the sting of betrayal pulling tears from his river blue eyes. Collapsing onto his knees his tears wet the soil as his lips could only stutter his sister's name in heartbreak.
Only a very small part of her wondered which choice her father would have wanted her to make. Abandon Liam to live or condemn Liam to die just to drag him along. Well she was upset at everyone in this world and wanted none of it to cling to her skirts when she left it. She would not feel sorry for that.
“You can't come, Liam,” she snapped. “I know father always gave you whatever you wanted, but I doubt even he would want you to die just to pester me into th
e afterlife.”
Big teary eyes held hers desperately. “But C-cassie–”
She ignored his pleas with the impatience of someone not yet ready to breathe their last and annoyance that their last might be wasted on this. “For once in your life don't be a coward. If you follow me you'll forever depend on handouts. If you stay then you just might make something of your sorry self. So listen when I say you cannot come.” She snarled this last and the boy recoiled, a deep hurt settling into his soul with each sob he could not stifle.
Something unsettling flashed through Titus' eyes but it was gone before Cassandra could decipher it. Ignoring the boy's pleading he leaned in until he was a mere breath away. “Will you come to the Island with me, Cassandra? Or do you choose to be buried and defeated by soldiers who bullied you into an early grave?”
“Never again,” she vowed, a hardness chilling the shine of her eyes as she grasped his offered hand in a grip that surprised him. Titus could feel the promise of her words burning in each finger wrapped around his own and his mind flickered to the prophecy she was born of. A dark grin tugged at his mouth as he wondered which path she would take for even the smallest choice could shift the tides.
“Welcome, Feuer. The time has come.”
Chapter 3
Steady rocked the wooden planks beneath her feet, tilting gently with the sea. Through the early morning light Cassandra squinted towards the distance in an attempt to spot their promised destination, an island called Oneiroi. Although her father loved to spin bedtime stories about an island of no specific place, Titus had been the one to reveal its truths. The young who have been murdered or wronged by life do not merely blink out of existence when the Reaper calls. If they still dream of the Island then a deal may be struck and a ship will sail them away to Oneiroi to live out the rest of the lifeline they ought to have had before the evils in their world attempted to cut it short.
Footsteps surprisingly spry stopped beside her where she leaned against the rail. “You won't be able to see it until it's near,” Titus laughed. “Now give your eyes a rest or the wrinkles will never leave your scrunched up face.”
It was difficult sometimes to pry the dead from the living, but it was his job, his purpose, and he'd learned to set aside his heart when the situation required. Still, as the girl of prophecy a companion would have been allowed, an exception to the law, and yet she'd chosen to venture into the unknown alone... Something to ponder at another time.
“How exactly does this all work,” Cassandra asked suddenly, turning to lock him in a fierce gaze with her hands placed firmly on her hips.
“We arrive. You go,” he shrugged.
“That's certainly not everything,” she dismissed. “How am I alive? Was a body left behind? What will become of me once I step foot upon the shore of Oneiroi?” Her voice suddenly trembled as she whispered mostly to herself, “I should have died like my father.”
Titus frowned. “That would have been a waste.”
Anger ignited her cold glass-green eyes in an instant. “Are you saying my father's death was not a waste? Because I find it wasteful indeed. He was a brilliant artist and perhaps one of the only warm souls left in the world.” No matter if it made him a fool, she added silently.
“Oh his life was valuable indeed,” Titus nodded acquiescently. “But his purpose has been fulfilled. Now we test it.”
“And what purpose was that?” Cassandra demanded.
Nothing save a smile taunting with secrets left Titus' lips.
“You never answered my question,” she prodded curiously. “Any of my questions.”
“You're right,” he nodded.
She stared at him a moment longer before impatience yanked out her demand. “Well?”
A yielding sigh huffed out of his chest. “Magic.”
“Magic?” she repeated in a dubious tone, although little else could make as much sense. “Is there really magic in Oneiroi?”
“Of course,” he answered with a light laugh. “The Island is alive with it. Many of those who live there are gifted with a few of its strings, although ferrying the dead to a realm of life requires a special kind of magic and much more than just a taste.”
Cassandra's eyes couldn't help but grow wide as saucers. Magic! “Do I have magic?” she asked eagerly.
Rather than a simple yes or no, Titus tilted his head and scrutinized her so thoroughly she was sure he could see something deep within her soul that even she did not know dwelled there. When the vulnerability began to feel too much she wished to interrupt but found herself rooted to the spot until at last he released her.
“You do not have any now, but when we arrive in Oneiroi there will be a group quite intrigued to meet you. If you pass their test you'll be offered a gift of magic, a string or two to pull yourself. You best start thinking on it now and choose wisely.”
Cassandra glanced away, biting her lip with a furrowed brow, but before Titus could leave her be she shook her head. “No.”
“Excuse me?” he asked thrown with surprise.
“No that won't be good enough,” she continued. “I will take their test and pass it, whatever I must do. But when I succeed I don't want just a string or two to play with, a small gift to hold near. I want magic.” She turned her confident grin towards his weathered frown. “I want to be you.”
“You wish to be a weathered, graying, old man?”
She laughed playfully at that. “No, I want to be the puppet master's apprentice.” Because that was what he was, she was sure of it. Behind the unusual dress and middle-aged appearance she knew he was much much more and she wanted all of it.
Hesitation surged through his veins and yet there was a spirit about this girl that impressed him, drew him in, wanted to agree without reason. “Full magic is not a toy, Feuer. It ties me to the Island, becomes my duty to protect it and those living there.”
“When I step foot on that land, Oneiroi will become my home too. I've lost one home to man, you can be assured I will not lose another.”
Still he forced himself not to relent so easily. To find and train an apprentice was part of his sacred duty and yet none had swayed him as a candidate until this girl, fated or not. “Magic is not so easy to master as snapping your fingers and making something appear, you know.”
Another laugh tickled the air. “Of course it is, Titus. One must simply want it enough.”
“Can't you use your magic to bring us to these people I'm to meet?” Cassandra groaned as she upended her shoe divesting it of sand yet again.
“I could,” Titus agreed. “But I rather enjoy a walk after so many days on a ship. I did at least choose the castle closest to a shore. I could have made you walk miles, or better yet let you try and find the way on your own.”
Not even the slightest glimpse of fatigue tinged his voice but certainly proved victorious in irritating Cassandra further. Sweat darkened her blonde tresses as she hiked south along a sandy pebbled beach that never seemed to end, her frustration turning her oblivious to its beauty.
“It might be easier if you walked barefoot until we abandon the sand for stone,” he suggested, his lips quirking in amusement.
“Absolutely not,” she snapped irately.
He shook his salted locks. “Very well.”
“Why are you here?” she asked after a moment of silence had lapsed between them. She felt quite tempted to invite him to leave so she could find her way in peace but she'd noticed the moment they left the ship and stepped foot between the trees of the Silvanus Forest that the ancient giants watched her just as closely as her shadow. Even when they broke free upon a beach she could not shake off the hideous feeling of being privately observed. With neither compass nor map she needed him, and that knowledge only succeeded in further souring her mood. Cassandra did not like to need anyone.
“Not more trees,” she whined as she noticed Titus' altered path.
“I do hope you harbor no grudge against them,” Titus replied dryly. “They might find inspir
ation to lash back.”
Emerald light filtered down through the leaves as the warm sunlight lovingly sought out the earth below and woodland creatures bounced from branch to branch in a merry chase. As if encased in an enchantment, the Island of Oneiroi breathed soft tranquility and promised peace upon the weary souls who entered. Cassandra felt the curious brush of magic indeed but she adamantly refused the sedative embrace it offered, not until she'd at least met these people who apparently held power over her fate. With each step the light early summer air invigorated her bones and despite herself she couldn't help but nurture confidence that this would be a new life, a better life. A life where she served no one and could fight back if they tried.
“Ready?” Titus asked, interrupting the ambitious picture forming in her young head.
She rested her fists on her hips and pretended not to crave a rest. “Of course I am.”
He led the way along a twisting path that returned them to a sandy shore whilst whistling a tune. As they walked further along the beach she noticed that there was a strange echo. No, someone else was whistling along. More than one someone. Swiveling this way and that Cassandra tried to spy the hidden voices but no face appeared. Titus led her to the base of a dreadfully tall climb of steps carved into the forbidding cliff that had replaced the leafy fringes of the beach and she swallowed her trepidation slowly.
Cresting the climb on quivering limbs her feet froze at the sight that awaited her. Lush gardens, a stone-paved courtyard, and a towering magnificent castle greeted her dumbfounded gaze. All ages were bustling back and forth, some in studious concentration utterly fixated on their task and others with laughter and an ease she found unexpected. Music played from somewhere out of sight but it somehow managed to compliment the steady clip clop of hooves being gently led to and fro.
