The Eye of His Dark Majesty

Ties That Bind

I woke to the muted dawn slipping through the thin canvas of the tent, casting pale gray shadows across the rough ground beneath me. A faint coolness threaded through the air, sneaking in through the open seam of the tent, making me shiver despite the cloak I had wrapped tightly around myself. It was the only warmth I had in the biting chill of early morning, and it clung to me, scratchy but comforting against my skin. I adjusted it over my shoulders, trying to ignore the itch that had been growing all night from mosquito bites dotting my arms and neck. I hadn't been able to sleep much, constantly slapping at the pests that seemed intent on draining what little blood I had left to give.

But the sharp memories of last night buzzed more insistently than any insect. They looped through my mind in fragments that refused to settle, each one clearer and darker than the last. Halbrand—the beast—the way shadows had coiled around him like a second skin, thick and inky as if they were drawn to him, wrapping him in a shroud of something sinister. Every instinct I had screamed that I should have run, should have fought him off or cried out. But I hadn't. Something about him held me captive, a pull that felt like it came from within me, twisting my chest and tugging me toward him, even as I recoiled.

I wanted to believe it was all a nightmare, that the feverish visions would dissolve with the daylight. But my heart, still pounding with a wary, residual fear, told me that it hadn't been a dream. It was real—too real. And now that the night had ended, I felt caught between two forces. A part of me still felt tethered to Halbrand, caught in the strange, wordless connection that seemed to simmer between us. But another part of me, the part that whispered urgently now, knew I needed to seek out Galadriel and tell her everything I'd seen. She had warned me about the power lurking beneath the surface, the way evil could hide behind familiar faces, and after last night, I knew she'd been right.

What did it mean for Halbrand? For me?

I swallowed hard, forcing my breath to steady and pushing back the prickle of unease that crept up my spine. There was no time to dwell. I pulled on my armor with brisk, practiced movements, the familiar ritual grounding me as I strapped on each piece, letting the weight of it remind me of my purpose. By the time I stepped out of the tent, the camp had fully stirred to life, bustling with the muted urgency that always accompanied dawn before battle. Soldiers moved in the dim light, securing weapons and fastening armor, their faces drawn with the knowledge of the fight to come. The sound of clinking steel filled the air, punctuated by the low murmur of voices and occasional, forced laughter, as if they could convince each other this was just another day.

I scanned the sea of moving bodies, my eyes searching instinctively for Galadriel. My chest tightened. She had been my guide, my reminder of why I was here. She had known my mother and understood the darkness we were fighting against. If anyone could make sense of what I'd seen, it was her.

I spotted Galadriel near the edge of camp, her presence unmistakable even in the early light. She was speaking with a small group of soldiers, her voice low but carrying a strength that commanded respect. Her armor gleamed faintly in the dawn, and her golden hair moved with each small breeze as if it held a life of its own. As I approached, she turned to me, and our eyes met.

"Good morning, Morena," she said, her voice soft but unwavering. There was a light in her eyes that I didn't understand but felt drawn to, like a beacon against the shadows of the night before.

"Good morning, Lady Galadriel," I replied, hoping my voice didn't betray the uncertainty that simmered inside me. I hesitated, unsure where to begin or even if I should, but her eyes held a warmth that eased my mind.

Galadriel looked at me for a long moment, the edges of a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "I remember the feeling," she said softly, her gaze drifting to the edge of the camp where soldiers were practicing, "of going into my first battle, the strange rush of fear and resolve all tangled together."