The Chain (Thresh & OC FanFiction)

2. saving

She did not die, even though the road to the Brotherhood was really long. Throughout the leisurely walk, she had leaned against his shoulder, one hand clasped tightly around the wide flaps of his coat. Occasionally she opened her eyes and looked at him, as if to make sure that he was there for her.

He was, certainly. He had no idea why he did what he did, but he felt he couldn't help it. Now this woman interested him beyond measure, he wanted to know why she hadn't died, what magic protected her, how those spells had to be lifted, and also why she was so terrified of dying alone.

When he stood in front of the Brotherhood building, the morning was passing, but the sun still couldn't break through the thick clouds full of evil magic. The rays hadn't reached the twisted earth in over a thousand years, and Thresh knew they wouldn't for thousands more. The day was a little brighter than the night, but the sun was out of sight of the wraiths, ghosts, and lost souls of the Shadow Isles. Thresh didn't mind at all. He was as comfortable in the grave darkness of night as he was in the half-gray reality of day.

He stopped in front of the gate that led to the Brotherhood. The building was huge, gray and terribly empty. Here, however, the corruption did not reach so far – Mist stopped at the outer walls, afraid to reach further. In the Brotherhood, in the basement, at the heart of this place, a faint but living spring of magical water still beat. Thresh didn't like being here. At this point, his magic weakened, and the souls he caught began to escape from the lantern.

The wraith crouched down, rested the half-dead woman against his thighs, and set the lantern down by the gate with one hand. The souls sighed, as if feeling that their torturer would leave them alone for a while, but at peace. Thresh rose, gripped the woman more securely, and reluctantly entered the Brotherhood grounds.

There was no Mist inside, but the lack of sun and rain made the plants wither, losing their colors and beautiful appearance. But they were alive, weak but alive. Thresh strangely disliked them. Not the grayish grass beneath his feet, not the straight, low, half-dead trees.

"What do you want here?"

Thresh looked up, his eyes narrowing in disgust. Yorick. The old Shepherd of Souls stood in the garden with a spade in his hand, and Thresh found his form particularly repulsive. It wasn't a blue face, a tired look or a torn outfit. Even if Yorick looked reasonably normal, of course for a damned inhabitant of the damned islands, a pendant with a capsule of life-giving water dangled around his neck, and the presence of that blessed liquid made Thresh feel weak, and though he hadn't eaten anything normal in a thousand years, and his bowels were long gone, he was about to vomit.

"I found her on the shore," Thresh admitted honestly, lifting the half-dead woman's body gently.

Yorick only narrowed his eyes.

"And you brought her here?" he asked suspiciously, digging his shovel into the dry earth. "You?"

Thresh clenched his jaw, smiling crookedly. Yes, he also thought it was crazy and incorrect.

"She's not dying," he said. "But she can't live either. Nasty condition."

Yorick walked over to the two, and Thresh immediately took a few steps back. The life-giving water hurt his being, made all his bones crack and ache, and the skin stretched over them began to curl in a strange dance. His skull ached too, as if all the muscles, veins, and epidermis were reappearing in it. No, he couldn't get that close.

The Shepherd noticed it immediately. He snorted, showed him a stone bench by a stone gazebo, and muttered:

"Put her there."

Thresh walked over to the bench and settled the woman down, then backed away quickly. Yorick approached and bent over the half-living, half-dead body.

Thresh could be gone now, he knew it. He had already done one foolish thing by bringing a woman here, and now he was making another foolishness by waiting for things to happen. He noticed Yorick whispering something to the castaway. She answered him so softly that the Shepherd had to bend hard over her mouth. Thresh winced as the woman grabbed Yorick's arm, even more displeased that the man responded with an equally strong and affectionate gesture.

Why? Why did the gestures of a strange woman towards a strange man hurt him so much? Thresh didn't like what was happening to him now, what he was thinking and feeling. He decided to cut it off immediately, before it began to torment him to the core.

The wraith turned and left through the gate. Passing the lantern, he raised his hand, and the object immediately landed in his hand, levitating gently in the air. Thresh's magic returned to him, undiminished, even though the Chain Warden was right by the bloody, life-giving water.

Thresh turned to the Brotherhood. Through the wide-open gate, he could see Yorick and the woman. Something inside Thresh churned for a moment and calmed down, but quietly, letting him know that after a thousand years it had returned and was not going to leave at all. And as much as Thresh wanted to remember what it was, he couldn't.

He snorted reluctantly, gripped the lantern tighter, and walked down the path to the beach, where he hoped to find the Mist-spitted souls of the remaining survivors.