Wings of Ruin (Otherworld Book 3)

by Talis Jones

  The audacious village invited her in, coaxed out a laugh, and set a desire in her legs to run alongside the others. However the castle drowned it all out. Instead she crossed her arms tightly and decided to regather the reins of the situation. “What is this place?”

  “Should you manage to get that skeptical scowl off your face it just might be your new home,” Titus quipped.

  “I assume you are speaking in general terms,” she sighed unable to hide the gleam in her eyes as she took in the powerful structure before them. Surely she'd be shoved in a hovel somewhere and not freely offered up a seat in the palace.

  He shrugged. “Depending on how things go you might be invited to stay in the Quidelish citadel.”

  “Really?” she smiled. “I've always wondered if such structures are as drafty as they seem made with all of that stone. I'd like to find out.”

  He raised an eyebrow at that. “You previously lived in a small wooden hut in the mountains. If it is drafty then you should feel right at home.”

  “An artist's retreat,” she countered under her breath. “Not a hut.”

  Titus snorted. “If you say so.” He made to perhaps unleash another jab when something quite like concern dipped his head. “You know, you haven't grieved for your father since I found you.” Then in a quieter voice he added, “Or your brother.”

  “And I don't plan to.”

  He shook his head wisely. “Cassandra, it isn't healthy to keep it locked up inside. Many people who arrive on these shores do so weighed by pain.”

  “What is Quidelish?” she asked curtly deciding it would be best if the subject changed before she popped him in the nose. If tears came to her in the secret of the night then that was for her to know and no one else. Besides, there was little point in crying over what was lost. No, instead she would focus on ensuring nothing like it ever happened to her again.

  Titus' eyes narrowed but he let the topic drop. “We are in the region of the Isle called Quidel,” he explained. “The Silvanus forest is to the north and beyond them the Silas Mountains. Aztlan lies to the east, while Llyr and Ailill encompass the south. The Whispers have four citadels across Oneiroi, each near the sea, to both house their fellows and receive new arrivals upon the Island.”

  “And this is all just one island?”

  Titus nodded. “Didn't even used to have regions, but souls come and souls go and with them things change.”

  “I see,” Cassandra replied feeling ever more curious. “And Oneiroi, is it quite large? One would think so if it has regions attributed to it.”

  “It suits the needs of those who call it home,” is all he said.

  Excitement's thrum had slowly taken over her bones and impatience lured her into demanding, “Well what are we waiting for? Shall we go inside the castle?”

  “I'd wait if I were you. The Whispers don't take kindly to strangers trespassing on their home so unless you want a fistful of arrows shot into your chest you'll have some patience.”

  Cassandra shuffled back to his side reluctantly, patience did not always heed her call. “What are Whispers?”

  “Who are Whispers,” he corrected. “They are the Guardians of Oneiroi and should you accept you could join them.”

  “They're the ones with magic?”

  He nodded.

  “Then of course I'll join them. Wouldn't everyone wish to do so?”

  Titus shrugged. “Not everyone receives the invitation. And don't make promises before understanding the terms.”

  “If these Whispers are supposed to protect Oneiroi then why on earth would they shoot someone for accidentally stumbling into their home?” She queried suddenly. “Seems a bit nonsensical, doesn't it?”

  “No one enters a Whisper fortress without either belonging to the Whispers themselves, receiving a direct invitation from a Whisper, or trying to infiltrate the Whispers.” He gave a grim chuckle. “Not that the trees would let anyone of ill intent find them so easily.”

  Cassandra allowed another moment of silence to pass before impatience won the battle. “What are we waiting for? Is someone supposed to come get us?”

  “By the blood you ask a lot of questions,” Titus groaned. “Ja, we are waiting for someone, and with your impatience so bold upon your face I've no doubt they're making us wait simply to toy with you.”

  Anger curled her fists but with great resolve she let out a deep breath and pasted a look of pure nonchalance upon her face willing a soft sparkle in her eye and a gentle curve to her lips. She would be the picture of patience. No one teased her, not without consequences. The village girls learned that lesson quickly enough.

  “You're an interesting sort of problem, aren't you?” a teasing voice called from behind.

  Spinning around with a jolt Cassandra's gaze locked upon a girl no older than herself with wild black hair. “Excuse me?”

  The girl smirked. “Impatient, persistent, likes to annoy every ear within a mile with your ceaseless questions. And yet when challenged you can place any mask upon your face and fool us otherwise.” Leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper she added, “Don't worry. No need to pretend with us. We'll accept you, even if you do hunt for answers like a pig after truffles.”

  An angry twitch danced in Cassandra's jaw as she tensed at the offense. “You've now called me many things including a disgusting pig, but I assure you if you continue down this road you will discover those traits are the least of your worries.”

  A delighted laugh barked out of the girl as she locked eyes with Titus. “You brought a real spitfire.”

  “One that can now be your problem while my ears beg a rest.”

  Cassandra opened her mouth to protest but before she could utter a sound the girl stuck out her hand in greeting. “My name is Medusa, but everyone calls me Sa.”

  Reluctantly Cassandra shook the girl's hand surprised at the strength in her grip. “Cassandra. And don't shorten it.”

  “So you don't go by Cass, then? Or Cassie?”

  Cassandra cringed at the latter. “No. And if it's all the same to you I'd prefer to call you Medusa.”

  “Well then, Cassandra, welcome to the Whispers,” Medusa smiled. Gliding past them on silent steps she led the way through the lively bustle heading straight for the massive polished castle doors.

  Recalling how they'd teased her for her incessant questions Cassandra did her best to hold her tongue but really how could they expect anything different? She'd just arrived in a magical world she once thought only existed in her head and her father's paintings (she would only confess her long-standing belief to herself and maybe not even then). A place with magic and endless potential. “Is that it?”

  Medusa cast a glance over her shoulder. “Is what it?”

  “Am I a Whisper now? Just like that? No tests to pass or riddles to solve or intentions to prove?” Nothing in life came so easy.

  “This isn't the military,” Medusa chuckled.

  “But you do protect an entire island, a whole realm actually,” Cassandra pushed. “Surely that requires some precautions before handing out magical powers like candy to children.”

  Pausing on the short flight of steps Medusa turned to face her. “We take our role seriously, but this isn't your old world. We don't have strict regimes, suffocating laws, or overbearing rulers. Oneiroi is a place free from all that.”

  Cassandra arched a skeptical brow. “You claim there is not even one corrupt soul living on these shores?”

  Medusa shrugged. “Oneiroi has endured its fair share of human failings, but most who live here were either born in this place and raised in its promise or were weary of their suffering and eager to embrace a new life.” With a slight tilt of her head she asked, “Why are you here?”

  An open smile tipped up her lips. “A new life of course. Something far different from the one I'd been given.”

  “I was right, you're an interesting problem.”

  “And what do you mean by that exactly?” Cassandra snapped, but Medusa had alr
eady spun around and placing both palms upon the right-hand door she pushed it wide.

  Overly aware of her sweaty rumpled state Cassandra did her best to smooth out her skirts and pat down her hair. Noticing the sudden freshness of Titus' appearance she glared. “You and your silly magic.”

  Titus grinned. “Jealousy becomes no one.”

  “Jealousy builds empires,” she countered swiftly.

  Something flashed in his eyes but whether it was worry or thrill she couldn't say and neither did she care. Her old life was over and she'd be damned if she became penniless twice. It was time to see what Oneiroi could offer.

  Chapter 4

  Whatever Cassandra had expected to see it was not the bare furnishings that greeted her. For a castle so grand and elaborate on the outside, the interior could have suited the likes of monks. The décor felt almost incongruous and Cassandra felt it was a damn shame. She didn't have long to frown however as the Whisper, Medusa, led them into a large room that might've once served as a throne room but now featured a simple, but lovely, wooden round table at its center and seated there were two new faces that at present were taking her presence in with avid interest.

  “Brought the new arrival,” Medusa grinned before perching on one of the vacant chairs.

  “Welcome,” the first boy greeted confidently. He looked to be a mere child and the sight startled Cassandra to the core. How could this boy have any modicum of authority? And would it be he who decided her fate? She'd never been very good with children... Then again, there was a sharp cleverness in his eyes that made her wonder how old his soul was even if his body had been frozen in time.

  Throwing her shoulders back she eased a sweet soft-tilted smile upon her face. “Hello, my name is Cassandra. Are you the Whispers Titus has told me about?”

  “Indeed we are,” the boy grinned. “My name is Abel and this is Kenshin,” he introduced gesturing to himself and then to the young man beside him. While little Abel boasted bronze skin, dark intelligent eyes, and a strangely fathering disposition, Kenshin looked to be just a touch older than herself with eyes tipped in a gentle slant and full of laughter.

  “And you've already met me,” Medusa chimed in with a smirk.

  “Is this all of you or are you merely the ones in charge?” Cassandra inquired boldly choosing it best to overlook their ages.

  Kenshin grinned. “You're one of the first to assume we are in charge at all given our appearances.”

  “Titus explained some of that,” she brushed aside falsely not wanting to appear ignorant. “I'm hoping you can provide better answers in time but at the moment I'm anxious to settle.” She fixed her gaze upon Abel. “Am I Whisper or am I not? And where am I to go?”

  “Right down to business,” Abel nodded appreciatively. “You are Whisper, that much is evident. If you were not then you would be what we call a Jourdie. As for where you are to go...you will stay here. No reason to ship you elsewhere as you'll receive the same education at any Whisper citadel.”

  So few words and yet Cassandra's head was near bursting with questions. “How can you know? That I am a Whisper, that is.”

  “We can sense one another,” Abel answered simply.

  Cassandra's brow furrowed skeptically. “I don't feel anything.”

  “You will.”

  “I'm very appreciative of your invitation to stay here,” she continued. “It is very...impressive.”

  Medusa let out a chuckle. “Barren, do you mean? It is our way to avoid overindulgence in material things. You will grow used to it.”

  “Someone didn't inform the architect,” Cassandra muttered.

  An unexpected darkness flashed through the Whispers' eyes at her quip. “Twas built in another time,” is all Abel replied.

  Cassandra danced over the tension in the room easily. “And you mentioned an education? I assure you I can read and write quite well. I'm also decent at sums, history, and painting.” She had never been one to sit back and agree to time's leisurely pace and she certainly wasn't about to now. Her last life had been a simple one, peaceful but often chafing to her naturally ambitious soul.

  “There are a great number of other things you will need to learn to transition smoothly into life on Oneiroi,” Kenshin explained kindly. “Do you not wish to rest and freshen up first before burying oneself in all the responsibilities of becoming a Guardian?”

  Cassandra made to refuse but stopped herself, re-awakened to her filthy state. “You're quite right, I would,” she thanked him. “But before I go I feel it best to be upfront in my intentions.”

  Abel's eyebrows lifted in mild curiosity. “And those are?”

  “Although I'm sure you are quite vital and successful in your endeavors to protect Oneiroi and its inhabitants, I wish to train for a station similar to Titus'. That is, I hope to prove myself and earn full magic.” This was her moment and she held her breath wondering if they would grant or shatter her ambitions. Perhaps she’d been too bold. Exhaustion often loosened her tongue.

  Titus who had seemingly become a forgotten shadow in the corner now took it upon himself to speak up. “A Whisper does not request to become my apprentice, they are chosen.”

  She turned to face him forcing only confidence upon her mask. “Then choose me.”

  Silence claimed the room, growing thicker as each moment passed, when suddenly a loud bell-like cackle rent through the air. Everyone startled at the sound and turned in unison to stare at the culprit. Medusa furiously wiped away the tears in her eyes, one arm clutching her seizing abdomen, as she struggled to control her laughter.

  “We're going to be friends, you and I,” she managed to gasp out between snickers.

  Cassandra's mouth pressed into a flat line. “Delightful.”

  As a prim Jourdie escorted a seething Cassandra to her room Titus stayed behind with the Whispers, his mouth pressed into a taut line. The audacity of her request, and she asked not in humble or earnest desire but in arrogant demand. Nothing about the bitter creature overtly called to him as a mark of an apprentice, especially for a duty such as his, and yet somehow he knew it was a façade and he could not deny the pull he felt from her. She'd been wronged and was quickly building armor around herself to avoid the pain. If there was any hope to save the girl from herself they would have to act swiftly and with the kind patience of a goodwill deity, heaven help them.

  “You can't be seriously considering her request?” Medusa gaped.

  “Request?” Abel scoffed darkly. “You mean her demand.” His good opinion once lost was rare to reclaim, a fault he insisted was a strength.

  “She's so frigid I just want to hang her over the kitchen fire and tease her until she cracks,” the lovely lithe Whisper snickered.

  The bronze-skinned boy with nothing short of command in his every line folded his arms with contempt. “You're being ridiculous. We need to keep her far away from here or any Whisper home before she corrupts the lot of them with that type of attitude. We can send her to the mountains. The simplicity there always works to balance the sour souls. And the sooner the better.”

  Suddenly Kenshin's soft voice spoke up, gliding between the two squabblers with the delicate swiftness of a samurai's sword. “Perhaps, but I think she's just afraid. Rather than outcast her, perhaps we should help her belong.”

  “You're right,” Abel nodded. “Better to keep an eye on her for who knows what she might get up to if left to her own devices. She wants something and it isn't a peaceful life. I can feel it.”

  “That's not what I meant,” the taller boy chided.

  Medusa pursed her lips in brief thought. “I'll talk to her,” she decided. “It's silly to do anything based on fears and assumptions. First we ought to know more about who she is and from whence she came.” Jumping to her feet she made to depart but her gaze snagged on Titus' silent form. “Oh,” her smile faltered sheepishly. “I forgot you were still here...”

  Titus rolled his eyes. “Clearly.”

  “What do you think, T
itus?”

  The aged man locked his gaze upon Abel, a strange lilt to his voice. “I believe...ja, I believe I shall offer her the apprenticeship.”

  Three mouths dropped to the floor in astonishment and even kind Kenshin's eyes did not approve.

  “You cannot be serious,” Abel protested darkly.

  Titus tilted his head. “I'm always serious,” he teased. “But I do warn you not to make an enemy of her. It would be far more prudent for you to love her as you have every Whisper who has trod upon these shores.”

  “Who is she?” Medusa asked quietly.

  “That is not for you to know. Yet.” He leaned down to the Whisper's ear. “And not even your gift can root out this secret.” With a sharp pivot on his heel he left the room, leaving behind more questions than answers as was his way.

  After silent minutes stretched painfully by, the three Whispers managed to finally de-paralyze their bodies and thoughts. “So what now?” Medusa asked a bit breathless.

  Kenshin stood and smoothed out his tunic. “We proceed as we would with any other Whisper. Initiation, training, and assignment. Although I suppose we don't have to wonder about the latter...” Striding to the impressive oak doors he paused by Medusa's side. “Remember what Titus said. We befriend her.”

  Love her as you have every Whisper who has trod upon these shores, Titus had warned. Love would not be a problem for Kenshin, rather it might prove more difficult not to. Although the way his heart dragged him to Cassandra's room promised a very different kind of love from what he felt for his Whisper brothers and sisters.

  He shook his head. The moment his eyes had landed upon the disheveled blonde force that was Cassandra his world seemed to tilt an almost imperceptible degree, like a clock finally set into motion, and it felt as profound as if the ocean had swapped places with the sky. She presented a front of self-assurance that touched on arrogance and it made his fellows bristle, but intuition told him that although her strength was no bluff that it was a shield she bore with desperate fingers and he longed to pry it loose and glimpse the soul behind it.