COF 2: The Soul Spells

4 | Captive (I)

2412, Strilaxis 13, Briss

Reeca shivered. Anchester's cold winds beat down her body like a whip.

She risked a glance at her back and clicked her tongue. Her wings still refused to unfurl after that stunt they pulled at her in Aspous.

Reeca grimaced at the air before hugging her arms close to her body. Her teeth clattered in her jaw as she gave another visible shiver. The pain on her shoulder had spread to her neck, arms, and spine after days of departing from Asopus. Just how much could this day suck?

Her magic was still in tatters after what she was forced to do as she outran Kymalin in the forest. Reeca blew a heavy breath, her eyes widening at the sight of her own breath frosting in the air. Ugh. It only gets worse when the sun sets.

Reeca craned her neck at the mass of trees with yellow-green leaves and thin, dark gray trunks. The sky beyond the canopy bore the shade of the Crimson Mother's rays. Hurry. She had to hurry along.

There was no one with Reeca on this trail that she was following as soon as she dropped into Anchester. Banshees knew better than to loiter in this forest no matter how thick it was. Reeca glanced at her left, squinting at the higher distance. Would that be where the Necrom Fortress was?

Reeca sniffed in an attempt to clear her airways from the clog of the cold. Anchester was an army base where Carleon's standing army, the Necrom, were known to stay. She had heard of rumors that the army sends scouts into the forest but judging by how quiet everything was over the past hours, she wasn't sure if that was true.

She half-dragged, half-skidded her feet along the trail. Her stomach gurgled with distinguishable pangs of hunger. A sigh escaped her lips before the wind picked it up and turned it into crystals that went as quickly as they came.

Where would Reeca spend the night? She should at least try to ride out the cold somewhere warm. A soldier's house, maybe?

Reeca stepped forward with a brand new mission in mind. Her eyes roamed the trails through the trees and the bushes peppering the forest floor. Her boots crunched against the fallen leaves that carpeted the ground.

Despite the rumors of Anchester being a militarized city, shacks made of strewn leaves and pale gray trunks stood idly at varied intervals as Reeca prowled forward. Who lived in these? Strange musical instruments lay discarded on the ground, sending an eerie vibe in Reeca's gut. Mugs made of ceramic and polished wood were thrown into the ground as if in a hurry.

What happened here?

Her boots hit something solid and she looked down in time to glimpse a round, metallic object. Reeca narrowed her eyes as she bent down and closed her fingers around it. Familiar. A memory sparked in her mind.

Of course. This was what Kymalin was talking on when the banshee was reporting to someone named Peredeira. Reeca pursed her lips. Peredeira. That name seemed familiar.