The Leviathan

Chapter Twelve

The flames licked at the firewood, crackling in the silence. Already the first tears of winter had begun to fall, the windows slightly iced over. Sage adjusted a little, feeling the warmth of the cloth wrapped around him.

And he proceeded to nearly drop the cup in his hands, the drink steaming hot. Some of it splashed onto his feet, as he snapped out of the daze. The room came into view - he was sitting on his favourite chair, in his room, surrounded by shelves of books. The familiar scent of wood, one that he so loved was back.

Maeve stopped mid-sentence, eyeing him carefully. He hadn't even heard her talking.

"Sage?"

He grinned, as Maeve wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. "You are not going to believe this."

"Actually, I do. I'm glad you're alive, Maeve."

Her laughs were muffled, as tears began to fall from her eyes. "Same to you, Sage. I thought I'd lost you forever. You woke up, talking in this weird accent, and gosh, I didn't even know you cursed that much! Swearing on gods I hadn't even heard of, demanding to meet people I'd never heard of in my life, wow. It was an experience."

"Then you've met me, from a century ago."

Maeve sat back in her chair. "I'm listening."

So Sage told her everything. About Vel, the Monarchs, and the world he'd been to. Every last detail. Maeve's eyes widened when he mentioned flying ships, and buildings ten times larger then the royal palace. A world in which everything had been supersized to scales she couldn't even comprehend, an earth which had been so saturated, drained of its resources.

"So...back to the start of all this. You're a God, aren't you?"

"I'd guess so. Still don't feel too godly." Sage took a sip from the hot tea. "And you? How did you get out?"

And so it was Maeve's turn to explain. Sage's mouth did open slightly as soon as she mentioned Valentine's name, but it soon closed as she finished her story.

"Vergil's younger sister. She sounds like...quite the character."

"She is. You think they'd know something about all this Monarch stuff? Maybe that's the reason why Locke had tried to protect you."

"Perhaps. But before that, we have more pressing matters to deal with."

"Yea." Maeve drew a shaky breath. "Look, I don't think she's the traitor. I'm just saying...with her position, and her being the person I know she is, its hard to not suspect her."

Myra Varsias. Sage had met her a few times, although he wouldn't have called them friends. She was efficient, kept her head down most of the time, and her intelligence was something to be spoken for. He glanced at Maeve. It was obvious the girl didn't want to suspect her friend, yet her thought process was sound.

"I'm confident Myra isn't the traitor in all this. She's a high ranking member among the Huntsmen, and is well respected by people both within and outside the rankings. There's hardly anything more that people could offer her, outside of an entire kingdom."

"True. But I still want to look into it."

Sage nodded. At least, it would give Maeve a peace of mind, one that she desperately needed. Even now her brows were slightly droopy, her shoulders ever so slightly slumped over, a stark contrast from her usual upright posture.

"So as of this moment, we're still to remain under medical supervision?" Sage asked.

"You've been deemed unfit for combat for another month or so, and until my cast comes off, we're in the same boat."