Memories of the Reaper

Chapter Fourteen

Reynold Shawe and Derek Grey did not speak for the rest of the walk. Instead, Derek listened to the sound of his own footsteps crunching over the mixture of rock, leaves, and dirt. The leaves shone brightly as the grass grew in small tufts along the embankment of the narrowing river. The babble of the water was peaceful, and Derek found his mind wandering away.

Whenever he blinked, he saw Kendra Lynx. Behind his eyelids, he could make out her small smirk and her ferocious eyes. Though he had never smelled it, he could easily recall her exact fragrance: lemongrass with a hint of pine. He knew the way her body curved below her clothes, where certain scars were along her back—how she had received them. Some were punishment during fledgling training, others were from fights, but a few came from long before that time.

He knew that they had met long before their interaction at the party, but he didn't know where or—

Reynold pulled Derek backwards before he could step into thin air and be sent tumbling down the hillside. He had been so distracted that he hadn't seen the embankment.

"Uh, thanks," Derek muttered.

"Next time I'll let you fall, fledgling," Reynold responded.

His vision was filled with rolling green hills and a fragrant lusciousness that invigorated his senses. Wildflowers grew in large patches and bugs flew lazily around them, drunk off of the sweet nectar. A branching dirt path lead from the embankment to the circular congregation of ancient structures and the arena. To the left of the buildings was a muddy pit filled with scathing obstacles, gigantic tree logs and large boulders. The path continued, branching off toward the old willow tree and the seven cabins. That was where the path ended. The river that he had been walking next to snaked lazily across the embankment and disappeared into the woods off to his right, like a snake burrowing into a small nook in the side of a cleft.

The landscape itself seemed to speak to him in a language that only he could understand, surrounding and filling him. Seeing Elysium, Derek felt a mixture of pride, familiarity, and belonging. He felt like he fit in—for the first time in his life, he felt like he had a future worth living. It was as if Elysium was the place he had been searching for it his entire life. But still, he felt a certain coldness in his being that he couldn't entirely suppress. It felt like bitterness and possibly revulsion. Derek smothered the feeling, deciding it was just his anger at being so lonely for the past decade, not knowing that a life like this was possible.

"Welcome to your new home, fledgling—the place where you belong," Reynold acknowledged, inhaling the fragrance. Deliberately, he tapped his heart with his index finger and said, "Home is where the heart is. That's what"—he paused, as if not knowing how to finish the statement—"what an old friend of mine used to tell me."

"Yeah, definitely," Derek murmured in a detached voice, not catching the hesitancy and loss in Reynold's voice. He closed his eyes and felt the breeze caress his face like a lover's teasing kiss. Within its passionate whispers, Derek kept his eyes closed and felt peace wash over him. He took another breath of fresh air and felt a familiar scent enter his nose; it was a cross between bonfire smoke and woodland pines. It was the smell of a burning pine log in the fireplace of an old log cabin—there was smoke, but underneath was the smell of oak and a faint wisp of dust. Derek opened his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the supple wind falling across his body once again with a gentle caress.

The sun was shining along the ancient constructs within the campus. He mapped the confines of the Reapers' camp, knowing the small details of the buildings: the mess hall was between the library and the armory, the arena was in the middle of the rough circle, and that his cabin was the closest to the woods.