Turtles of the Plague

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

Dylan 

I wake up, and the bed is cold. My arm raises up drowsily to run my hand through Reed's hair, but I'm met only by empty air. My eyes peel open in surprise, and I see that I am alone. Still, I pat the vacated side of the bed, as if to be sure Reed hasn't somehow turned himself invisible and non-corporeal. I scoff at the idea; he's talented, but not that talented.

I slip out from under the sheets, none too gracefully, and rub the sleep from my eyes. I stumble across the room, cursing foully when I stub my toe on the corner of the bed frame. Still, despite my lack of coordination in the dark, I leave the lights off. Turning them on will, without a doubt, give me a pounding headache. Plus, I'm not planning on staying up for that long anyways.

Just long enough to find out where Reed had gone.

I pull on my boots, not bothering to wear any socks, and grab my jacket from the back of the chair I had tossed it onto when we returned from the woods earlier in the evening. I'm not suspicious or energized enough to bring my axe with me, but I do slip a knife into my boot. I've experienced the kingdoms and their power long enough to know to never walk the palace halls unarmed. Especially at night.

The door shuts behind me with a soft click as I step into the hall. Moonlight is the only source of illumination, shining eerily white through the large glass window. I pause to think for a moment, unsure of where he could've even gone. I doubt he went back to his room; he sleeps in mine most nights, and only goes back to his during rare freetime during the day. But even then, he prefers the gardens.

I shake my head, deciding that his room is still the best place to start. If he's not there, I'll check the gardens, and if he's not there, I'm going back to bed. Eyes checking for any other late-night wanderers, I begin my walk the two levels down to reach his chambers.

The first flight of steps is uneventful. I don't encounter anyone on my path; it's late enough at night/early enough in the morning that even the most mischievous and indefatigable residents have retired. However, it's when I step off the second series of stairs that I see him.

He's coming down the hall at a full sprint. His face is white as a ghost, his bare feet slapping loudly against the ground with each step. As he gets closer, I see his eyes, and the pure fear that fills them.

He barely slows down enough to avoid colliding with me as he covers the last bit of distance keeping us apart. I hold my arms out in front of me, squeezing my eyes shut, preparing for him to crash into me. He manages to halt, though, panting heavily as he does. I slowly open my eyes.

"What happened to you?" I ask, making sure to keep my voice low.

He doesn't bother with this caution, practically yelling as he answers me. "Dylan, there was something, in the palace, it might still be here—"

I interrupt him, whispering hastily, "Reed, quiet. What are you talking about?"

"I woke up, something woke me up. I could feel it, Dylan," he continues, still not bothering to lower his volume. "I could feel it, and I followed it, and--"

"Keep yelling like that and you'll wake the whole castle up," says a snarky voice from behind me.

I whirl around.

Gwen stands a little ways down the hall. There's a knife in her hand, not that that's really a surprise. She's in her usual attire; all black leather, barely any skin showing. Her pink hair is down, catching the moonlight from the window she's standing next to. The way it pours through the windows the lighting makes her appear to glow, as if she has some kind of halo around her head.