In Fate's Hands (Sinbad of the seven seas)

Chapter Nine Avalon

Avalon's patience was wearing thin from the anxiety of the basin. It had gained another main crack with three smaller ones webbing from the new one. Avalon could feel just how weak the spell was, just by being near it. She needed that shipment of obsidian yesterday. Avalon is running out of time. She knew that from the constant thumping in her chest and the twisted thorny pain at her stomach whenever she looked at the basin.

Just like yesterday, nightfall came without a thebian ship stopping by for supplies. Maybe the kid in the village was just telling her what she wanted to hear for some meat. She doesn't blame the poor kid. The port has become prosperous and the class system is becoming more and more divided as the weeks pass. The rich are becoming richer and the poor are dying because they can't get any poorer.

Avalon has a habit of impulsively meddling in the affairs of normal mortals. She follows a strict code of human interaction, which is only interact when necessary. But there are some things that even she can't turn a blind eye to. The fisherman's family have been struggling because their boat took on damage in the last storm, and refuse to sell it to the bastard that calls himself a businessman. She sees how much they struggle as they ration out their food, and deal with the new economic policies that is taxation. They didn't always have it, but now they do. This used to be a peaceful prosperous community of people.

Avalon arms ached as she attempted to drag the pile of wood she had cut that day. She dropped it, massaging her muscles as she looked between the wood and the bucket of tar she had harvested on the unpopulated side of the island. She just needed to steal some nails to use as a base to keep the wood in place and use the tar as a glue to reinforce it.

Avalon pulled up the hood of her cloak, hoping that the shadow of night would do its job just fine. She pulled a large blanket over the planks of wood and pictured a disk to carry it. Her vision blurred into basic shapes and shadows.

This is stupid. She thought. She can't see well in the dark, let alone with her abilities blurring her vision and the dark. This is stupid, she'll get caught and people will realize she's been the banshee or whatever they call her.

Avalon's heart hammered in her chest as she approached the port. As much as she tried to keep the disk in a dark grey light an icy red had managed to creep its way and casted a reverse shadow on the ground. It had lost its charm in the name of improvement. The islanders haven't lost the town yet. But she's seen it happen over and over again.

Pale dry yellow dirt and pebbles crunch underneath her feet as she follows the well cultivated road into the alleyways of the town. Avalon forgot a time when this town didn't have alleyways. It was harder to stay hidden this time around than the last time she visited. There were at least two or three lanterns hanging on the side of each building. More than once did she jump thinking her shadow was a stranger that stumbled upon her existence.

Closer to the cove was a charming house made of raw and recycled materials and a sailing boat with a large hole in the hull. Avalon rubbed her temples. It was larger than she expected it to be. In the moment of an impulsive sigh, she lost concentration on the disk underneath the pile of wood planks and they all obnoxiously clattered on the ground.

"Oh Shhhhhhhh-" Avalon cursed at herself as a light grew brighter in the front room. More out of habit than instinct, Avalon dashed for the house to hide behind the sidewall. Her heart stopped as she heard the door squeak open. An older man with long greying hair and blood shot eyes investigated the pile of wood, and Avalon wasn't going to stick around for him to turn around and see her. She was about to run straight to the beach, before a thick cough nearly shook her out of her skin.

Avalon felt that cough sink into her own chest. She could practically feel what it was like to be in that cough. To be caught underwater by the strength of the tides as you try desperately to swim upwards to the surface, only to be tangled in the sea weed around you.