Dark Hearts

Chapter 8

Not one of them spoke for the longest time. Forever was how it felt, especially to Cade who needed some stimulus other than the burning sensation occupying the face of his forearm. But nobody said a word.

The possibility that it was a consequence of the extreme stress and anxiety from the most recent turn of events seemed most likely, but it also might've been that the other two felt awkward after the oldest's actions, they all in some way felt too ashamed, or just that they didn't know what to say. For himself, all three options applied to Cade. He felt ostracized that it was him to sacrifice everything after displaying constant disdain for the others, he felt ashamed that his faults led them into that mess, and he felt unsure of how to express the rampaging emotions in his mind. So many things he wished went differently- a particular one for certain- but specific parts he wouldn't have changed at all, no matter the outcome. Unbeknownst to the others, this 'journey' had become more than a chance at redemption or a quest for acknowledgment; it had directed him down the path towards his parents. Cade still didn't know whether to believe that as a good or bad.

Lady Tremaine made it evident to him that she knew more than she let on but he locked her knowledge away after testing his limits too far. By the questions she asked, her reactions no matter how limited and bland let him see inside her mind for the slightest second. When she hesitated to connect the dots after Cade revealed that his prized possession belonged to the absent parental figures, it showed that there was background he missed or overlooked. The way the woman ceased to maintain her poised and overweening attitude dropped after the other two were escorted out spoke louder than the words. Every answer only led to more dead ends and questions that chipped the massive block in the way. To no end did it peeve Cade that after years of no trace of possible parents a string finally appeared only to be yanked back each time he touched it.

Stuck on the thought, Cade reached into the bag draped across his chest against his left hip so that he could examine the first glimpse of his past. Luckily, Lady Tremaine kept her promise and let the three leave with all of their belongings- the coins from the shop owner included- and not a single act of hostility. Of course a few of her hired brutes gave them nasty looks and muttered curses under their breaths as they left but Cade made sure to leave them a pleasant parting gift; he barred the front doors with the very poker that stained his forearm and broke off the knobs. If he ever saw the Tremaines again he feared they wouldn't be as forgiving.

Going into the bag, his right arm found its way easily without brushing the fresh wound but after clutching the object and shifting to pull out a piece of the bag's fabric touched the burn and Cade recoiled with a grunt. He removed his arm with a yank as a reaction, furthering the amount of contact and increasing his pain till it made his head swim dangerously. In attempts to conceal the sensations pricking inside, Cade cradled the arm to his chest and breathed heavily through his nose. The way his fingers gripped the skin allowed him to feel the heat emitted from the burn and his nose detected the slight smell of charred skin. Unfortunately, Lady Tremaine hadn't thought to at least provide a wet rag so that he didn't feel like fainting each time his tunic unrolled slightly.

Thankfully, neither of the other two noticed the immense pain painted on their companion's face. Both kept walking onwards down the path shielded by trees unlike the ones of the Dark Forest, these were normal, decaying blocks of wood. The sound of leaves turning to powder beneath their feet obscured his small grunts and whimpers. He wasn't sure whether he was adamant on acting tough for them or if the ache would become enough where he could ask if either of them knew of some mystical remedy to help.

He looked down for a moment, interested in seeing how the mark appeared after spending an extended amount of time stained against his skin. The surrounding skin held a vibrant red color that faded inches away into his normal caramel tone and then the burn stood charred against everything else. Burned into his forearm was a large circle with three diagonal lines stretching away from his body through it and a singular line cutting down the center towards his fingers with an arrowhead at the tip. The very tip of the arrow had a sharp point to it, aiming directly at the center of his middle finger. Cade gave credit to the man who applied to poker to him and wondered how many others bore the same mark. The mark prickled underneath his gaze as if sensing his scrutinizing glare and trying to work harder at melded until it looked natural against his skin. Cade doubted that he would ever get used to seeing the mark.