Delta [Epsilon #2]

Chapter Eighteen

Kyra

******

Grass crunched beneath my feet. The cacophonic buzz of cicada rose up all around us, adding to the charming melody of the forest. Shadows encased me in a morning chill, something that lingered even as the warmth of the dappled sunlight hit my face. 

I gazed through the bright-green canopy, at the sun slightly shrouded by the clouds, and frowned. I couldn't recall the last time it had rained. 

"So, where as we headed again?"

Gauss turned his kind eyes to me. Living with werewolves so long, it came to an instant shock that he didn't berate my insolence, for not paying more attention to his words. These were creatures of arrogance and cruelty, and would never pass up an opportunity to belittle. With Gauss, that wasn't the case. 

"We call it the Divination Pool, but it goes by many names, really. It's a rare body of water -- I'm not sure if another one exists elsewhere. Everyone in the court visits it at least once in their life, to receive their prophecy. Stare into the water long enough, and it'll cast an image relating to your future."

His pleasant smile turned sheepish. "Of course, I know that's not exactly what you were looking for. But it's the best I can offer in terms of hints. I'm not really well-versed in Emotional Magic, and, well... he is the only one who can teach you."

He paused, as though to gauge my reaction at the mention of the Delta. I kept my face neutral. 

Deciding I was content, he continued. "Anyway. As I said, this is all I can offer in terms of knowledge, sadly. It might not even help, but I suppose a glimpse into the future may give you a hint as to what steps you should take next."

I nodded, considering his words. Though I'd been disappointed when he'd told me he couldn't help me in terms of getting stronger, his mention of a prophecy had piqued my interest. 

I swallowed. "Thanks, Gauss. It means a lot that you would help me... again"

I grimaced at the memory, but he grinned, recalling the day I'd rode him all the way to the court. "It is no issue, dear. I am just glad to be of aid."

I cast him in a side-long glance. His eyes were clouded a slight grey, as though dulled from age, but they were sharp all the same. 

"Why are you so helpful?" I asked, stepping over another thick tree root. 

"I'm sorry?"

"You. In my experience, werewolves are dickish creatures --  they're all out for themselves. You're different. You'll drop everything to help a stranger." I was stopped short by the small knot of gratitude forming in my throat. "Why?"

He chuckled -- a light, airy sound. "Don't get it twisted, dear. I was indeed an ass in my youth. It's the world we're raised in. Everything is competition. There's always something to gain, something you will go all lengths to achieve, and god forbid if someone has anything over your head. To soon, allies become rivals."

He tilted his head skywards, a strange vacancy passing over his face. It occurred to me that maybe he was recalling a memory, perhaps one from before my lifetime. "But time changes things. People die. People suffer. You suffer." His eyes slid to mine, but I didn't dare acknowledge them. His tone was strangely sad as he finished, "And, suddenly, egos don't matter as much. Those you swore to be better than are dead, and you realise you spent so much time trying to one-up them than being there for them. Your ambition killed you."

The air around us thickened, and I could hear the regret in his words. We bathed in that silence for a few moments, and as I stared at Gauss, the rough lines on his face, I found myself wondering just what he'd been through. What had happened to make his eyes so inconspicuously glassy, to make his face crumple with despair at a memory perhaps decades old?