Born of Flames

Chapter 39 ~ The Last Journey

Once more, Arlon found himself unable to sleep and rose well before sunrise. He paced the camp perimeters until he was certain there had been no unusual activity nearby, then busied himself by gathering up and sharpening the weapons of his companions. The only weapons he left untouched were the swords that lay in between Tarion and Morana's sleeping forms.

He took care of the Prince's twin scimitar daggers, but Orilight was not his to touch, and it was well known that only Lonan and Morana could handle Noxbane. A part of him often wondered what would happen if someone else tried to wield the sword, but given who it was forged by, he was probably better off not knowing.

Arlon was just finishing with his own weapons when sunlight broke through the trees, announcing the morning's arrival. He lifted his gaze to the fragments of sky peeking through the branches.

When they reached the Gray Desert, there would be nothing but sky for miles, a sight he'd never seen before. Even on the Isle of Lorn, there were a few sparse tree groves to interrupt the horizon. But there would be nothing in this desert. Only black sands and stoney ruins. Astaroth's first blight.

Grass whispered beneath a soft hem, catching his attention. Arlon looked up and stiffened at the silvery figure approaching him. He remained seated though, his promise to Neeri ringing through his ears. Rehema paused a few feet away from him, her gaze revealing nothing.

"I am only sitting here because Neeri made me promise to listen to whatever you had to say if you sought me out," Arlon said, the words stinging in his throat.

"Then I am grateful to her for giving me this opportunity." Rehema seated herself on an overturned stump beside him. "I am pleased that you found companionship with her. She has cared for you for a long time."

"I know." His voice was softer this time. Arlon's gaze slipped to hers before he could catch himself. "Your visions revealed more than what you told us, didn't they?"

"There were a few things I omitted, but I told everyone what they needed to know." Arlon opened his mouth, then choked on the words as Rehema leaned towards him and laid a hand atop his. "But not you," she continued. "There is more I needed to share with you, but I did not wish to in front of the others."

His mouth ran dry and a cold feeling slithered down his spine. "What is it?"

"As I said, you and Morana will face Astaroth and Rhidian together, but as the vision ended, I saw only a pillar of fire and black sand washed in blood." Rehema lowered her head as she whispered, "I don't know whose blood it was."

"But you're afraid it was one of ours." A slight lowering of her chin was the only answer she gave. Arlon fixed his gaze on the sword in his lap, unable to look at her as he said, "We'll be alert, but your visions only offer a glimpse of what will happen. What you saw could be Astaroth and Rhidian's demise. If we're going to succeed, you have to trust in each of us more than your visions. We are real, and sometimes your visions are only visions."

"I just wanted you to be prepared." From the corner of his eye, he watched Rehema stand once more.

"Thank you for telling me," he forced himself to add. "Morana and I will take care of each other, and I know all of you will be looking out for us too."

"I'll wake the others," Rehema murmured, and started back towards the camp, leaving Arlon to ponder the vague implications she had given.

•༻☽☾༺•

A hand touched her shoulder, jolting Morana out of a shallow sleep with a gasp of surprise. She relaxed when her vision focused, showing Tarion's worried features. He inched backwards, giving her room to sit up. "Is it time?" She murmured.