LightReader

Chapter 11 - Chapter 8—A Friend In Need

She slept against his chest, her small body rising and falling with steady breaths beneath his cloak as the horse carried them slowly down the mist-shrouded forest path. Casmir held her close, careful not to jostle her, every hoofbeat muffled by the thick silence that pressed in from all sides.

The remained silent, unmoving. Yet even in sleep, there was something unsettling about her. As though she teetered on the edge of two realities, her soul still tethered somewhere far beyond his reach.

The morning was cold and heavy, the sun still hidden behind a veil of gray clouds. Branches arched overhead like ancient arches, whispering secrets the wind dared not carry. Casmir's hand rested lightly on her back—half-protection, half-search—feeling for any flicker of the restless power he could not yet trust to remain dormant.

The road ahead wound deeper into the woods, toward Belhallow, a quiet outpost at the edge of the kingdom of Kaldek where he hoped they could find refuge. But even as the horse stepped steadily forward, Casmir knew the dangers they'd left behind was far from over.

His thoughts spiraled endlessly, drawn into the darkness they'd left behind. The broken seal—one of the altar of worlds—not destroyed—merely dormant, waiting for the girl to awaken it again, the monstrous entity that had nearly clawed its way into this world, the girl's voice speaking in tongues he didn't recognize but instinctively feared. 

It all played repeatedly in his mind, a cruel loop that offered no clarity, only dread.

He looked down at her. She looked younger now that she was calm. Fragile. Normal elf. But he couldn't forget what she had been moments before—the trembling vessel of something far older and more dangerous than either of them.

Was she still normal? He wasn't sure.

The horse snorted, sensing his unease. Casmir loosened the reins, giving it freedom to pick the path. The road ahead was long and winding. Belhallow was the closest town. It was a quiet place, mostly forgotten by war and politics. If there was anywhere he could catch his breath, it was there.

But they couldn't stay long. Nowhere was safe for the girl. Nowhere would ever be.

He touched the medallion at his chest—his Saint's Sigil, cracked and darkened from the surge of power that had erupted when he sealed her soul to his. The artifact had always pulsed with energy, a tether to the arcane and unnatural. Now, it was nearly silent. As if the seal hadn't just closed a wound in the world but smothered something deeper.

Or worse—made room for something else.

"Four seals will break," she had whispered in her sleep, her voice soft and gentle—and something not her own but was pure. "Three remain. When the last falls, the Child of Chaos will open the Void."

He had no idea what it meant. But he was certain of one thing—he wasn't ready for it. Not alone.

The girl shifted in her sleep, her fingers tightening slightly in the folds of the cloak around her. Her lips moved faintly, forming words that made no sound. He leaned down, trying to catch any whisper, but she fell still again. 

He was tired. Not just from battle, but from the weight of the unknown. For years, he'd fought monsters that could be slain, curses that could be broken. But this... this was different.

This was destiny trying to claw its way into the world. To drag him into a flare of unforseen mysteries.

The trail narrowed, the trees thinning. Up ahead, the first glimpse of Belhallow emerged—stone cottages nestled in low fog, smoke curling from a few chimneys. He would find shelter, food, answers if any remained. Perhaps the apothecary still lived—an old ally, versed in obscure lore. If anyone could help him understand the girl, it was her.

He passed under the creaking sign of the outpost, the horse's hooves echoing louder on cobbled stone. A few faces peered out through shuttered windows, drawn by the strange sight—bloodied saint, unconscious girl, and a horse that looked like it had ridden through hell.

He ignored them. He was used to the deep gazes.

The apothecary's house stood at the edge of the square, its old herbal symbols still etched into the door. He dismounted slowly, every muscle screaming. Gently, he gathered the girl in his arms and carried her to the door. He knocked once. Then twice.

A long pause.

Then the door creaked open. Slowly.

The woman who answered was old, but not diminished. Her hair, long and white as frost under moonlight, fell in silken waves down her back. Age had touched her features but not erased their elegance—cheekbones still proud, lips pale but shapely, and eyes like silver glass, sharp with memory.

She looked at him, then at the girl.

"You should not be here," she said.

"I had no choice," he replied. "We need help."

She studied him for a long moment, then opened the door wider.

"Come in, then. But tread carefully, Saint. You've brought something with you, and I don't just mean the girl."

He walked in behind her, slow and cautious. The apothecary—Maera—cleared a bed near the hearth. Casmir laid the girl down, brushing damp hair from her forehead. Her skin was pale, but her breathing steady.

Maera busied herself with poultices and infusions, muttering under her breath in an old tongue. Casmir waited, pacing.

"She's alive," Maera said finally, glancing at him. "But not unchanged."

"I know."

"She's a vessel. Or was."

"Do you know what spoke through her?"

Maera shook her head. "Only that it wasn't of this world. Beyond even the oldest of gods reach. And angry."

"She said three seals remains. Do you know what that means?"

Maera was silent for a long time.

"There were once four gates," she said, her voice low, as if afraid the dark might hear. "Locks upon the Abyss—built by the first mages, long before kingdoms, before even memory. Each gate was a doorway to other worlds… but what waited beyond was not what they had hoped. It was hunger. Death. A depth without end."

Casmir turned to the girl, staring intently."A world of nightmare"

"They sealed the gates—every one—after only a moment inside. And to ensure they stayed closed, they bound each to their bloodline. A guardian for every seal." She paused, eyes distant. "When the seals are broken… when all four portals open once more… nothing will hold back the Void."

Casmir felt the cold rise in his chest. A guardian. Harod. That could only explain it. The first seal laid resting beneath Castle kaldek—and the man had never left. Not once. Not in all this centuries.

"And now there is three."

Maera nodded. "If she's right. And she likely is. Vessels don't lie. They're not allowed to."

He looked at the girl once more. She looked peaceful now, but what slumbered in her was not.

"What do I do with her?" he asked.

Maera hesitated. "Protect her. Or kill her. Depending on what wakes next."

He felt the words like a blade.

"I'm not killing her."

"Then pray you're strong enough to hold her back when all four seals breaks."

Casmir sat by the window, his sword across his lap, watching the stars through the smoke-hazed glass. The girl slept still, and Maera had retired to her chamber, muttering that dawn would bring more questions.

He stared at the girl for a long time, her chest rising and falling with calm precision. She was just a girl. A vessel. A warning.

And perhaps the key to everything.

Outside, a wind stirred, and far in the distance, something howled.

He didn't sleep.

And in the quiet, he swore he heard her whisper again.

"The Void starves."

Footsteps approached behind him—quiet, deliberate.

He didn't turn. "You never used to be that quiet."

Maera stepped beside him, holding a small clay cup that steamed faintly in the cold air. "You never used to look that haunted."

He accepted the drink, though he didn't touch it. He studied her in the firelight. "You've grown old."

She gave a dry chuckle and sat down across from him on the bench by the window, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "And you haven't. Not in the way the rest of us do."

"That wasn't a blessing. It was a cost."

They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the sleeping town pressing in like muffled memories. Somewhere outside, a dog barked once. Then silence again.

"I didn't think I'd see you again," Maera said softly. "Not since the Veilwood."

Casmir nodded, lips tightening. "That mission broke us all in different ways."

"You were the only one from our group who walked away with blood on your hands and a Saint's title. The rest of us just ran… or didn't."

"I remember the fire. I remember Merek screaming."

"So do I. He would've become such a charming saint"

They let that name hang between them for a while, another ghost neither of them had room for.

"You didn't age this much last time I saw you," Casmir said eventually. "You were still dyeing your hair, wearing iron rings, arguing with the priests."

She smiled faintly. "Aging comes fast when you stop pretending you're untouched. I gave up the old paths, Cas. No more Order summons. No more sealed scrolls or buried relics. Just herbs and wounds now."

He studied her again. The lines in her face hadn't stolen her dignity—if anything, they sharpened it. But her eyes… her eyes were more tired than he remembered.

"Why'd you really come here?" she asked.

"I told you. I need help."

"I mean why you. Why not one of the others? The Order has plenty of hands."

Casmir shook his head. "Some tried already. Besides....the Order doesn't know what she is. If they did, they'd destroy her."

Maera's gaze drifted toward the girl on the cot. "And you wouldn't?"

"No."

She tilted her head. "That's not the Casmir I remember."

He looked away. "I don't remember him either."

More silence. This time not uncomfortable—just old. Like the silence between the fallen pillars of forgotten temples.

"I heard about Nareth," Maera said quietly.

He flinched. Just slightly. "That was a long time ago."

"Still hurts like it was yesterday, doesn't it?"

He nodded once.

They both stared at the girl. The pale, sleeping child of prophecy or doom—neither of them sure which. Maera sipped from her own cup, then said, "She's important. Not just because of the seals."

"I know."

"She's scared." 

"So am I." Casmir confessed.

Maera's voice softened. "You'll protect her. You always tried to protect what mattered. Even when it killed you."

He exhaled, slow and deep. "You still believe in people."

"I believe in you, Casmir. I always have. Even when the Order didn't."

For a moment, something like warmth stirred between them. Not love. Not longing. Just two remnants of a world slowly falling apart, remembering the strength they once shared.

Maera stood, joints popping softly. "Get some rest. You need it too."

He looked up at her. "Thank you."

She offered a faint smile as she turned. "You know you never have to"

She left him there by the window, the stars beginning to glow brighter, the growing black of midnighy. He watched her go, then looked once more at the girl.

She stirred again in her sleep. A whisper barely formed.

"Three more seals…"

But no more words followed.

Only the wind.

More Chapters