The Gathering of the Hunt

CHAPTER NINETEEN (Part Two)

The dining hall fell silent when Kaedon stepped through the double doors. They were a dark wood, feathers melting from a pair of burning wings engraved upon it. It supposedly depicted the End. But, as he surveyed the angry mass, he figured that that depiction was wrong. No, the End would not be in blaze of glory, a final hurrah against the enemy before finally letting those wings burn out completely, rather in a single moment, where emotions suddenly became too much and someone (most likely himself, if he was being completely honest), did something to get the others killed. No, the End would not be glorious, because the End was nothing, darkness caused by the ineffable emotions of the humans. Even if the gods ruled all, emotions ruled humans.

He took a deep breath, regretting it when his ribs pinched, burning pain shooting through his abdomen. Sometimes he hated being him. Eyes burned him from every direction.

Aesira stood beside him, muscles tensed and hood up, all features concealed in the darkness. The warmth that radiated from her steadied him, giving him a purpose, something to cling to.

Stralva stumbled over the threshold, cursing under his breath, expletives echoed by the trackers who had decided that Stralva's permission was good enough to allow them to finally go back inside. "I swear, if you make me go out there aga—"

Footsteps echoed behind him, drowning out another string of curses. "Well, this is awkward," he continued, drawing out the syllables.

"Really? I'm the most comfortable I've been in mo—" He broke off when Aesira's elbow slammed into his ribs and burst into a coughing fit. Struggling for air, he gasped out, "Fuck, that hurt."

"It was meant to, you idiot."

"Can someone please address this?"

"What'd I ever do to you?"

"Please, they're staring—"

She rolled her eyes, a flicker of emotion—perhaps fear—darkening them before returning to it's normal emotionless look. "You were in the way."

"Are you just going to continue to ignore this?" The rising annoyance made Kaedon's chest constrict.

"I get that you're annoyed, but you can't just elbow me in the ribs—"

"You can ignore me, I'm used to it, but ignoring them is not a good idea."

"I get it, Stralva. Shut it."

"But—"

"I get that you are all insanely jealous of my good looks, but there's no need to stare. It's a little rude honestly," Kaedon said, cutting off Stralva's remark and addressing the crowd in a much louder voice.

There were groans of annoyance from the crowd, sounds that had always particularly irked him, for no reason other than the fact that it showed such stark disrespect. His fingers curled into fists tight enough that his ragged nails—they had been chewed off when he had been feeling particularly concerned—dug into his palms. They remain mostly silent, all too afraid to be on the receiving end of Kaedon's ire.

"I understand that many of you are confused, and you want answers—" the angry muttering became louder "—but, you need to understand that answers are not the priority right now." It was true, Kaedon realised bitterly. It wasn't by chance that he had allowed himself to be captured. There was information that existed only in the hands of the most trusted war adviser—the Krata—impossible to be reached by Anlai and desperately needed if they wanted any chance to win. The knowledge snagged half his attention before he realised that he needed to cool the crowd down before there would be more unrest within the ranks of the rebellion.

"You say that every time something big happens, and then you proceed to tell us that the situation is under control and we are all safe. If that's true, then what are you doing with the Traitor Queen?" Kaedon closed his eyes, exhaling with frustration.