The Sun's Awakening

Chapter Eleven

'Are you strong enough to lead a war against your former lover? Willful enough to make them follow you into battle when you can't even choose between two men cut from the same cloth?'

Whilst out plucking spearmint leaves for some refreshment, Eledorah found herself unable to shake the voices away. They came back full force with a vengeance to deter her from the current path set forth. Clearly, the last thing they wanted was for her to reach Sacrupala and gather forces with the satyroids. If only they hadn't made it so obvious.

She rolled her eyes when the onslaught of quips and jabs heightened.

'You pretend to be strong. If you continue down this path, you'll bring anguish to everyone around you. You're alone in this fight against darkness. Succumb to our power and the elation will feel like a paradise you've only dreamt of.'

Visions of such a paradise clouded her vision; images forced by the entities within. They had grown stronger since her last interaction with them. Louder, angrier, even more impatient by her antics. 

They had something to feed on when her resentment for Kaanan festered. Now they yearned for any emotion to surface.

Only... Ele felt a strange calmness this morning. 

Even with the sky overcast by ashen clouds, she found peace in the forest. 

Roman stayed with the little belongings they had left on their person while she swore to remain within a tight radius of the cave. They had to leave this place soon. Sooner than she'd like.

'Can you trust Roman to keep you safe? And what of your own abilities– are you in control enough to face the challenges ahead?'

As she plucked leaf after leaf, the voices grew louder, their doubts worming their way into her consciousness like thorns in a garden. 

'What if you're leading yourself—and Roman—into danger?'

Eledorah's hands trembled slightly after the last question lingered for too long. It echoed in her mind until no space remained for a single other thought. She reached down, absentmindedly, to pluck the next leaf and settled her hand into a different bush containing no spearmint. Only prickers and thorns. The first few pricks hardly phased her until one thorn scored deep into the pad of her thumb. 

"Fu– Gah!" She shot up and squeezed the base of her thumb with the other hand to stop the spread of pain. When she looked down at the damned thing sticking out, she ground her teeth. 

They interrupted her peace and caused turmoil after she vowed to keep them at bay.

Blood trickled from the thorn. She stared at it, lips folded tight, deeply contemplating whether or not to remove it. The dull throb fueled her fire.

"Give me your hand. You've gathered enough herbs and we need to be headed off." Roman emerged from where he'd been watching her, propped against the tree for the last half hour. The way she meticulously uncovered each plant and treated it gently had him wondering how she managed to get pricked. 

"I can manage, sir." As bristly as the bush she just shoved her hand into, her tone came across harsh. 

He snorted, disregarding her words. Swiftly, he dropped the bag of supplies from one hand, drawing her gaze towards it as it fell, then seized her wrist. With a deft motion, he turned her hand palm-up, using his other hand to steady her by gripping her bicep. Bending down, he plucked the thorn from her thumb with only his teeth and spat it out. Warm lips then tenderly covered the wounded pad, refraining from tasting the droplet of blood that oozed forth, despite the temptation.