The Veiled One

Chapter Seventeen: The gods are assholes

He woke up screaming, clenching his stomach and groaning. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before, intense and burning, searing his insides out.

"Sylas!" he screamed, and a figure flung open the doors to his room.

"Sylas?" he repeated, voice hesitant and breaking. But it was a slim figure with silvery hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Breathe," the silhouette commanded, drawing closer. She snapped her fingers and the braziers filled with light. "You have to breathe, Endor, can you do that for me?"

He sucked in one hesitant breath, then another and another and another. By then, she had reached the bed and sat up on it next to him, stroking his back like his mother had.

"I-It h-hurt so m-m-much," he whimpered.

"The closer we are to the subject of the vision, the more real it feels," she sympathized. "What did you see?"

"He was in a f-f-field, a-and d-d-dawn was just c-coming up. H-He had a sword in his h-h-hand, and he st-st-stabbed Lisentia with it. B-B-But s-she t-took some m-magic and threw it at him. She k-k-killed him! She k-k-killed him!"

"Who, Endor? Who got killed?"

"Are v-v-visions always t-true?" the boy pleaded.

"Yes, but they aren't always literal. Who did you see?"

"He d-died!"

"Who was it, Endor? Who did you see? You have to tell me!"

"I s-saw S-S-Sylas! My b-brother is going to d-die!"

And she held him close as he wailed.

***

The next morning, I awake with Sibyl curled against my body. When I shift, she wakes too and draws a finger down my ribs.

"Good morning, wife," I say to her.

"Good morning, husband," she replies, her smile coy like a cat's.

"How did you sleep?"

"Most excellently," Sibyl smiles, her grin just for me. I slide myself out of bed, and Sibyl makes a small noise.

"Come back," she pleads, but I tug on my scattered clothes from the floor.

"Can't. I have to check on Endor!" I call to her, jogging towards the doors of my room with the stupidest grin plastered across my face. I open the doors and go next door.

"Endor?" I call, pulling open the doors to his room. Endor is sitting before the fire, his eyes glued to a book of magic. When he sees me, he slams the book shut and runs to me, hugging me so tightly, I can almost hear my ribs cracking.

"Sylas," he sighs against me, trembling. Startled, I pull him closer. Why is he shaking in my arms? What happened to him while I was gone?

"How did you sleep last night?" I ask him, pulling him away so that I can see his face.

"Not well," he admits. "I had nightmares."

"You should have come to me," I admonish him, then think back to how I spent my night and think that perhaps it was for the best that he didn't come. Then I think of Endor, shivering in his bed, terrified, possibly even crying, and I feel ashamed.

"Pandeia came to me instead," he replies, sounding as confused as I feel. Since when does the queen of the living and the dead come to my brother's aid? This is my job, not hers.