Igniting A Flame {Kingdoms #1}

Forty-One

A tranquil silence—save for a few twittering birds—enveloped Lukas's mind. A serene stillness overcame him as his body slowly awoke from the deep slumber. The subtle wetness of the silky grass strands grazed his face, as did the course soil. His eyes finally opened, revealing a sea of lucent gold. The world shifted and undulated as Lukas, in a half-awake daze, lethargically lifted himself off the warm ground. The midday sun sizzling his pale face only lightly. The wind was still brisk and coastal despite having moved three days inland. Three days, all it took to reach the loom of Raenwood—an outer town in Donveil.

The lull of wildlife deepened as Lukas brushed off the earthly contents seated on his terribly torn shirt and meandered to a crag accompanying a bustling stream of water. He cupped his hands in the stream, flicking droplets onto his face and breathing in the sulphurous freshness. Lukas gripped the side of the rock, clinging to jutting forks, and swung his legs up onto the summit. Light grey clouds dappled the sky, shrouding the vibrant blue just peeking from beneath. Beyond that, the clouds descended into deep darkness. It seemed a storm were to hit. They'd have a few hours at least. The outline of Raenwood suggested another thirty minutes on foot before reaching the nearest building. Once, Lukas would have begged rain to hit him, to brush off the boiling sweat accumulated from a scorching summer day. Given it seemed to be forever summer in Sora. But now, he would be patient with the weather.

Lukas flicked his eyes the pile of people just below that glorious rock. Arvin had already awoken, most likely hours before him, sweeping his monstrous hatchet through the air. It was fitting for a large warrior to keep an intimidating axe by his side, ready to cleave through his victims. Yevvi, on the other hand, preferred a bow. Likely snatched from the ruins of Maragnus, a serpent depiction slithered around the bow. Lukas had wanted to call him cowardly for battling from afar but clamped his mouth shut. He didn't need another war. With his uncontrollable black fire and Yevvi's rage, the world would smoulder. It was amusing to see Cesca blatantly refuse carrying a pearl rapier around with her, being far too demure to handle such dangerous items. I will protect you, Lukas had said with a wink. Only did his pride crumble when Arvin countered, with those puny combat skills or that unchecked magic? Even Yevvi flicked his head back and laughed, no doubt savouring the jab. Lukas could have slapped him, hard.

Lukas hurled himself off the crag, slipping down the smoother side and stumbling onto the grass. Cesca and Yevvi had awoken and begun gathering their weapons and small satchels of items they had purchased on the way here. Luckily, they found a small cottage near a lake with Aethran healers kind enough to heal everyone without charge. Later, they encountered a resting merchant selling bread and water. Theos stood poised beside a tree, gazing out at the copses as if searching for something. Lukas trailed back to his own pile of leaves, a good enough bed for a night's sleep, and scooped up his sword. He patted his pant pocket, glad to see the witch hadn't swiped Estof from him in his sleep. A part of him still felt as if she'd return at any moment to envelop his wrists in indestructible vine and taunt him. Something about him...missed her. Stupid.

The others started to amble towards Raenwood, Lukas following close behind. He admitted to have woken up screaming a few times these past three days; nightmares seemed to swarm his sleep. That gleaming sickle and fresh blood, glowing amber eyes, shards of ash and sprawled corpses. His stomach churned at the thought of his own hands taking a life as he had done twice now. Twice. Death still sent shudders through his spine and he supposed it was something he would have to conquer. A fear that cannot be in this cruel, unforgiving world. Despite that, Lukas felt still. Content. As if a crushing weight had been lifted from his mind. That self-inflicted torture and avoidance disappeared. No longer would he fall prey to his own devilish mind. An airiness fluttered through his head, that familiar presence lingering within it.