The White Shadow

7. When All Turns White

Firmin skipped back to camp, his chest thumping warmly. He wasn't sure how, but somehow, he had hope things could work out.

He stopped when someone ran in front of him. Fear galloped through his veins when he saw the glint of the large axe in the man's hand before he disappeared. None in their group carried such a weapon.

He removed his dagger. They really weren't equipped for much else than a demon—not armored and armed people.

Part of him screamed to run away, but he swallowed down his instincts and ran towards camp. He was met by total chaos, weapons clashing and people struggling.

Rustling leaves and loud cursing on his right had him turn just in time to notice a man carrying a tiny kicking and screaming person over his shoulders. "Aethelu," he said. Of course they would take her, the mayor's daughter. The man set her down and pushed her face against the tree. She yelped as the man's hand stole under her dress.

Anger burned in Firmin's chest. He ran after them before his muscles could clamp up on him, and brought up his second dagger as well. The man had just undid his pants and Firmin screamed to take his attention.

The man turned and Firmin slashed his weapon under his arm, finding his armpit where he wore no armor. But he hadn't been in range yet, and the cut was shallow. A grip on his arm yanked him against the bandit, head smashing into his helmet. Dazed, he dropped his dagger, before a pointed knee crashed into his stomach. An elbow cracked into his cheek, and he found himself on the dirt, coughing blood, blinking to stay conscious. He clenched his fists, realizing he'd lost both his daggers as the tall man drew a short sword, and he held his arms up to shield himself.

A loud scream pierced his brain as a whirl of black flew at the man. Aethelu ran before him, and the man howled and screamed. Her hand moved away from between his legs, holding a bloody dagger. The screaming man took her hair and flung her against a tree before dropping to his knees.

Firmin managed to get up, kicking the stunned bandit in the head before turning to their main camp. He wiped the blood and sweat that rolled into his eyes to see that the attackers were cornering Carson, who was the last one up. They could never win. Not with only Firmin to help.

His stomach dropped. It was too early to bring Reina into play. He'd wanted more time to convince them, approach them with the idea first under a controlled situation. But did he have a choice?

He stumbled into the forest, further away from the camp, yet unnoticed. "Reina!" he called, despair clawing as his vision began to shift. He wasn't even sure where to look for her. With so many people around, she was probably far away. "Reina..."

He stumbled to his knees and hands, head throbbing as hot liquid seeped down. Dizziness swirled in his mind, and he groaned, gripping the dirt in hopes of not falling over.

Then he found he could breathe again, and strength surged through him. Unsure where this revitalized determination came from, he managed to push himself up, a hand of guidance bringing him to his feet. As his brain began to clear, he recognized her silken touch. "Reina," he said.

"Follow me," she said softly. "I know a place where they won't find us, and I can have more time to help you."

"Reina," he protested weakly. "I need your help. I need us to go back."

Fear struck her face, and he felt her hand drop away. He gripped her arm firmly before he lost her touch completely and looked her deep in the eye. "Please, Reina. They're going to kill them. Maybe they already have. I stopped one from raping Aethelu, but I can't stop them all."

Her eyes were wide, her lips trembling as she stared at him, her eyes begging him not to make her.

"Please," he said, squeezing her arm.

Before he realized what was happening, she nodded, eyes closed, and then she was gone. He was barely able to make out the glint of white that hovered over rocks and back to the camp.

Firmin ran after her. His heart pounded the closer he got. He no longer heard screams or even struggling, and a feeling of dread overtook him. It was then that he realized he'd sent the white shadow after his group without instruction. Not like it mattered. She was a demon, with no control when her shadow overtook her. "Reina, only the bandits! Reina!"

His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he made his way back to a quiet camp. Arms wrapped around his, and he jumped, before looking in the eyes of his father. A gasp shuddered through his entire body as he slumped into his arms, and tears misted his eyes. He removed himself from the embrace to look at the rest of the camp, checking all the fallen bodies, hoping with all that he was that none of them were his friends.

He found Roxanne, removing a bandit's limp arm from her before she got up. Tris was gasping, leaning against a tree, Aethelu over his shoulders.

"What in the name of..." Gutherd turned around himself, eyes widening at the field of fallen bandits. Carson stood at the very edge of the clearing, and Firmin took deep breaths as relief overwhelmed him and his adrenaline coursed to a stop.

He found her, Reina, standing to his right, her eyes coming to a resting halt when they found his. Firmin walked away from his father and took her hand. "You did it," he said, voice clogged with emotion. He rested his forehead against her hand. "You saved us."

"Firmin?" Roxanne asked, approaching slowly. "Who is she?"

Reina's fingernails suddenly buried in Firmin's arm, her face paling. "Reina, what's—"

"Stay back, Roxanne." Carson's voice. "Firmin, step away."

Firmin followed Reina's terrified gaze and turned around to see Carson, hand in his coat, a darkness settling over his expression.

"Carson, what are you..." Firmin shook his head, gripping Reina's wrist.

"Firmin." His father's voice was stern with but a tremor. Firmin's heart sank deep, catching the shock and the raw disappointment in his eyes.

Carson stepped forward, palm up, black powder seeping between his fingers.

"Listen to me!" Firmin begged, raising his hand and gripping Reina's tight. "Just for once, trust...trust me—Carson, no—"

He broke into a fit of coughs as the clouds of black stung his eyes. Reina's grip was gone from his arm but her scream was loud in his ear. He turned, terror spreading like a wildfire at the deathly gray and veins of black that dominated her face. He caught the twisted look of one being betrayed in the ghost of her wide eyes before she faded into blinding white.

And then everything was white.

Cold crept up his arm, rapidly devouring and burning into his shoulder and into his chest, staking into his heart so that the pain stopped him from breathing. His knee found dirt. Dirt which he felt but no longer saw.

Panic seized his body, but he fought his own muscles to move. He began to hyperventilate but still couldn't find a single breath as voices cried his name all around. Voices he could hear, but no longer understand. He reached out, but his hand found nothing before his own body stopped listening to him. He wanted to shut his eyes but the blinding light pierced through his entire skull, consuming him, spending his energy, taking his sanity and robbing him of his consciousness. Words spoke to him, taunting him at the frayed edges of his awareness.

There is a balance to these things. They will always see me dead. There is no point in trying to control the natural way.

"Reina!" he cried, but his voice was smothered and his heartbeat slowed by a second.

I will always have to kill.

You can't change me.

Muffled voices echoed, growing distant.

And you can't change them.

Firmin felt the rough ground slam against his face, the blinding white slowly fading into gray.

You and I will never be free. I'm sorry, Firmin.