Only Skeletons Remain

Chapter 21: Seeking Counsel

1987

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of gold and purple as the Bandito camp settled into its nightly rhythm. It had been a year since Miguel's return from Voldsoy, a year since he had been gifted by the Ancestors. But as the camp bustled with activity, the small tent near the heart of the camp was quiet—save for the soft hum of voices inside.

Miguel sat by the entrance, watching the dim glow of the campfires outside, a distant look in his eyes. The weight of leadership still clung to him, but now, it was balanced by something else—something new and fragile. Lara had given birth to twins, and they were Miguel's entire life now. With their birth, a ball of anxiety began to grow in his stomach.

Inside the tent, Lara lay back on a bed of blankets, her expression soft and tired but glowing with a quiet joy. In her arms, two small figures rested, swaddled tightly and sleeping soundly. Carmen and Enrique—twins born into a world of struggle but surrounded by love.

Miguel turned his gaze from the camp to them, his heart swelling at the sight. He still wasn't used to it, this new life, the reality of being a father. But seeing them—two perfect, delicate beings—he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Hope.

"How are they?" Miguel asked softly, his voice thick with affection as he entered the tent and crouched beside Lara. He nuzzled his nose against her cheek, closing his eyes. In the back of his mind, he wondered if the twins would help the prophecy, but he wouldn't think about that now.

"Quiet," Lara replied with a soft laugh. "For now."

She smiled at him, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. "They've got your stubbornness, you know," she teased, her voice light but filled with warmth. "Enrique already tries to fight sleep. Carmen just watches everything with those big eyes of hers."

Miguel chuckled, leaning down to kiss the top of Carmen's head before gently brushing his fingers against Enrique's tiny hand. The boy stirred slightly, a small murmur escaping him, but then he settled back into the comfort of Lara's arms. He stared down lovingly at them.

"They're perfect," Miguel whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Lara tilted her head, watching him, her eyes soft but knowing. "You're worried," she said quietly, her smile fading a little as she searched his face.

Miguel sighed, glancing out of the tent again. "I just... I don't want them to grow up in this. The fighting, the fear. I wanted more for them." He licked his lips a bit. The bishops were still out there. They would find him eventually. Loki had since stopped trying to control him, but Loki was much stronger than Miguel was.

"We'll make it better," Lara said firmly, shifting slightly so she could meet his gaze more fully. "We'll make sure they have a future. A safe one."

Miguel nodded, though the shadow of doubt lingered in his eyes. He reached out, taking Lara's free hand in his, holding on as if grounding himself in the moment. "I know. I just can't help but think of what's coming. The bishops will find us again."

Lara squeezed his hand, her grip steady. "We've faced worse," she reminded him gently. "And we'll keep fighting. For them."

Miguel looked down at his children again, his heart aching with the fierce protectiveness that had grown in him since their birth. "I'll keep them safe," he murmured, his voice hardening with resolve. "No matter what." He would die for his children if he needed to. 

"You're not alone in that, you know," Lara said softly, her eyes warm. "We're in this together."

The tent fell into a peaceful silence as the twins continued to sleep, their small chests rising and falling in perfect rhythm. Outside, the camp carried on, oblivious to the quiet moment within.

Miguel leaned down and kissed Lara softly, lingering for just a moment before pulling back. "Thank you," he whispered. "For them. For everything."

Lara smiled, her eyes shining with emotion. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, my love."

Miguel chuckled, his heart feeling lighter, even with the weight of the world pressing down on him. He sat down beside her, watching over his new family. For now, they were safe, and for now, that was enough. He nuzzled up against her. "I'll be back. I need to talk to someone." He whispered.

Lara nodded. "Don't be out too late." She gently advised him, earning a soft nod from Miguel before he slipped out of the tent.

Miguel moved silently through the dense underbrush, his steps barely disturbing the fallen leaves beneath his boots. The thick canopy above him blotted out most of the moonlight, leaving the forest steeped in shadows. He could feel the weight of the air around him—the stillness, the quiet anticipation, as if the very trees were holding their breath.

Ahead, the ancient oak loomed, its bark gnarled and twisted with age. This was the place. He could feel it. The whispers of the Ancestors had guided him here, to a remote part of the forest far from the Bandito camp, far from the prying eyes of anyone who might question his disappearance.

Miguel approached cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt the unmistakable presence before he saw it—a faint shimmer of light coalescing beneath the oak's massive branches. Slowly, the form of an old runebeast emerged, scales draped in vines, eyes glowing with a pale, otherworldly light. Aegishorn.

"You've come," Aegishorn's voice echoed through the clearing, deep and ancient. It resonated not just in Miguel's ears, but in his bones. "You seek answers."

Miguel hesitated, his breath catching. "I... need guidance. The path forward... I can't see it clearly."

Aegishorn's gaze pierced through him, calm yet filled with untold wisdom. "The path is never clear, young one. Not for those who walk the line between light and shadow, the Wavering. But you've been chosen, and the weight you carry is not without purpose."

Miguel lowered his head, feeling the burden of his choices—the transformation, the rebellion, the lives lost. "I fear the beast within me... I fear what I might become."

Aegishorn took a step closer, his form radiating calmness and strength. "It is not fear that will guide you, but the will to tame the storm inside. You are more than what they tried to make you. Remember that, when the time comes."

Miguel swallowed hard, the cryptic words sinking in. He wasn't sure if he understood yet, but there was solace in the Ancestor's presence. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the night.

Aegishorn simply nodded before fading into the mist, leaving Miguel standing alone in the silent forest.