The Otori Prophecy

XXXVIII - He's Still There

My eyes fluttered open. I held my head as I sat up, trying to make sense of the images I saw in my dreams. Destruction, fire, wings, monsters. None of it made any sense. There were even places that I've never seen before. They could only be in Terare. I blinked several times to try and will away the lingering sleepiness. It resisted, hanging over me like a fog.

There was a distinct lack of warmth. The fire had been reduced to cinders and the wolf had disappeared again. My eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Stumbling around the dark cave, I managed to grab the remaining bits of tinder and lit them for warmth. This should do until I come back from collecting firewood.

Holding my almost frozen hands over the fire, willing them to warm, rubbing them against my arms in an attempt to create friction. Nothing inspired warmth to bloom. It would take ages for me to warm up at this rate.

Lazily, I looked around the cave, not quite sure what I was missing. Something felt off, wrong even. Frowning, I shook it off, stretching myself out before I tackled the day's tasks.

Turning around, the firelight made a trail of something glint. It looked like liquid. A darkened trail reaching towards the edge of the cave. What could've caused that? A whispering wind rolled in, carrying into the space I was in, curdling my stomach with dread. I walked over to the liquid, dipping my fingers into it. Pulling my hand away from it, I eyed it. My eyes widened as I realised that it was blood, still warm to the touch, dripping down into my palm. How long had it been here? Did it just happen?

Unsheathing my dagger, pointing it in front of me as I blindly crouch walked backwards towards my sword. Bandits? Bounty Hunters? Mercenaries? Assassins?

My eyes flittered around the cave, open to the danger I was facing, trying to make out shapes in the darkness. Nothing. Mathias still laid there unconscious, unaffected by all that went on. My fingers fumbled against the hilt, but I grabbed the sword, pulling it from its sheath. It didn't matter if it was blunted or chipped, it would have to do.

Step by step, I left the cave, eyes on swivel. Was it The Apostle? Was it the Circl of Nightshade? Hesitantly I moved forwards, trailing the line of blood. It led to the edge of the plateau. It pooled as though something had lied there.

My hair whipped about in the sudden uptake of wind, staring over the edge warily. My breath hitched in my throat at the sight of the wolf laying there, the snow around it dyed a brilliant red, framing its demise.

I didn't see anything else, no other blood trail. Gulping down some air and steeling myself, I made my way down the mountain towards the clearing. "Taika!" called a voice. It echoed through the trees, bouncing around the clearing.

My ears perked up at sound. "TAIKA!" came the voice again. My sword faltered from its position. "MUM!" I called out, approaching the trees. A figure darted to my left. It became silent. "Mum!" I called again.

Blood seemed to still in my veins. That wasn't Mum. Gripping the hilt tighter, until my knuckles turned white from the effort. I shook all feelings away for just a moment. "STEP OUT!" My voice echoed around the naked forest, lost to the snow. The figure appeared to my right, disappearing behind the trees. Sorcerer.

"Face me!" I tried to make myself sound threatening. If I could just act like Dad, like Mathias. All around me the trees seemed to circle, closing in. In truth, my stomach felt like lead, knees shaking. I didn't feel an ounce of bravery.

My eyes darted to behind me, looking for the way I had come. The mountain base seemed further away than a moment ago. Looking forwards again, there he was, standing between two trees. He looked sick. Paler than the last time I saw him.