Chapter 9
She walks back to the carriage, the dirt crunching faint beneath her feet.
Around her, men stroll toward their camps—laughter, jeers, and chatter spilling into the night. Yet their eyes cling to her in passing—hungry, curious, mocking.
Each gaze different, but all ends the same way.
Her chest tightens. Her pace quickens.
The carriage now comes into vision, empty sacks and barrels stacked all around it.
She nearly reaches it when she feels something,—a piercing sensation on her back.
She turns, her right foot planted behind her.
—It is Jonas.
Watching.
Her right hand goes to waist level, her vision following him.
"Hello."
His voice slides across the air.
Jonas stands in the moonlight, his smile thin, unsettling.
"We've never introduced ourselves before." He steps closer, the same moonlight glinting in his eyes.
"My name's Jonas. What's yours?"
That grin—wide, unshaken. Her vision blurs as another smile overlaps it. The grin.
That figure.
Her ears pick up the sound of her own blood pumping, her heartbeat rising.
"I… I don't have a name." Her lips move, the words cutting through the air. Aias' warm smile flashes in her mind.
That name,
her name. —lingers, heavy,
unsaid.
Her chest quivers, her throat locks. She swallows it back down.
Jonas cackles, his laughter accompanied by the chirping of insects.
The last few men nearby glance, but quickly turn away.
"No human hasn't a name." He mocks, voice thick with disbelief.
His head leans in closer, circling her with his gaze, his breath almost brushing her cheek.
Her shoulders stiffen, her feet step back a little.
"How come you're lying to me?" His tone sharp, but playful. "You don't want to get along?"
Goosebumps crawl across her arms. She takes a step back.
Jonas follows, his boots dragging softly against dirt.
"Wha—"
Something yanks her hair—her body freezes. His hand coils in it, tugging lightly, testing.
"I thought it would be silkier," he mutters, eyes fixed directly on her face.
Her eyes jitter. "Get away!"
She tries to slap his hand but he moves his arm and inches closer.
His head lowers, inching closer, still holding her hair tight.
Her chest locks, her body seizes. His presence floods her with memories—before the slide, before the dungeon.
The room.
The grin.
The weight pressing down on her.
"You're pretty." His chuckle nauseates her mind, almost seductive. "You should take more care of yourself."
Her heart jerks. She shoves him.
"Don't—touch me!"
Jonas only grins wider, his face amused, entertained.
"I'm sorry." The word comes from his mouth flat, mocking.
He turns, his steps slow, strolling toward the therian camp.
Jonas throws a glance back, grin carved wide. "Sleep well, darling. It's a big day tomorrow."
Her eyes meet him. "Big day?"
"You'll know." —the words stumble in her mind, "He's dangerous." Her mind recognizing him as a threat.
He leaves her in the moon's pale light, his laughter fading with distance.
"Aias…" Her thoughts fall back on him.
Her feet stepping towards the big tent on the right, Jonas in front of her sight—slowly vanish from her vision as he turns left behind the smaller tents.
But her steps hesitant.
She stops herself.
"No… I don't want to be alone." Her whisper cracks in her throat.
The full moon looms above them, bright, silent—the only witness.
Her chest quivers. She presses it down, muttering under her breath.
"I don't like him."
She climbs into the carriage, its wooden frame swallowing her in shadow.
She crawls into her cloth bed, trying to fall asleep.
Her eyes unclosed, staring onto the carriage ceiling in the dark.
But eventually, it closes.
--
Sounds of men clamoring, wood thocking against wood—metal boots meeting dirt, the dragging of cloth on the ground.
Her eyes flutter open, the neighing of the four-legged animals starting the carriage's movement.
She fully wakes up and scans the carriage—a middle aged man with a rounded frame is in front, holding reins to those animals.
The carriage rocks and jolts forwards from each bump, following the clip clopping of them.
"We're moving." She thinks to herself, slowly getting up to a crouch while sneaking towards the front.
"Is he controlling these beasts?" She mutters, slowly creeping up behind the man—circling him.
She's now in front, peeking out towards the surrounding—trees and grass slipping behind them as they march forward.
The Man notices her, slightly frightened.
"Oh!", he abruptly shouts.
"Who are you?" she asks, the man's actions and gaze unthreatening to her.
"Good morning, lady." her foot loudly planting on the carriage floor.
"I'm but a humble coachman"
She's surprised, the sincere smile on his face lighting her up.
"G-good morning," she replies.
She sits next to him.
The sounds of metal boots chitter in unison.
"Onward."
The sound comes from one man, wearing armour the same as the ones directly following Aias.
However, his shoulders are plated different, sharper than the rest.
Aias leads far in the front while she is in the middle, surrounded by men alongside one carriage in front of her.
"Stop!" the same man shouts, everyone halts movement.
Aias' hand is held up, his gauntleted fingers closed inwards to his palm.
He looks around, then whistles—the forest on their left seemingly moving in the distance.
After a pause,his beast appears from it.
He pets its head before it settles next to him.
"Nemea hasn't detected any living things except for us in the past hour," he says.
"Stay alert."
He turns towards Anastasia. "You, stay put. Don't get out," he adds.
Anastasia nods, she retreats back inside—just behind the kind man.
His hand drops down, his fingers wave in front as he does it.
"Onwards!" the sharp shouldered man shouts.
Then she sees someone picking up pace.
The back of his head is familiar—that same disgusting head of hair.
—it is Jonas.
He picks up his pace and moves up from the pack, now almost in the middle—close to her, where he settles.
His gaze brushess off Anastasia for a moment before locking onto Aias.
She stares at him and Aias, her feet start moving and she's in the front of the carriage again.
"Big day" she mutters, observing the situation.
The nice middle-aged man notices, "Sit down lady, it's bumpy!"
"Plus, the commander asked you to stay put." That same warm smile still showing as he warns her.
Her reluctant gaze darts from the middle-aged man's face towards Aias again before nodding and saying, "Okay."
She finally step back and sits down.
Suddenly, Nemea's horns start to light up gold—her growl so loud it tears through the air.
The four legged animals freezes, unmoving—the kind man starts to stand, walking back inside while dropping the reins slowly.
"What's happening?!" she asks the man, she starts to stand again—her knee on the ground, her posture now a half crouch.
"I don't know, but when Nemea acts like this.. it can't be good."
"Stick inside, lady."
"It's safer here."
He warns her again as he puts the same cloak she's wearing, "Our cloaks should protect us from normal physical attacks."
"Don't move" he adds.
Then she sees movement again, going against the grain of men.
It was Jonas going through the rest of the men whose feet are planted, hands on their hilts.
Aias readies his lance, it starts glowing the same color as Nemea's horns.
Simultaneously, Anastasia's red eyes glimmer. "There's something here," she murmurs.
Nemea's horns glowing brighter, she feels a change in the surroundings.
She couldn't shake off this feeling anymore,
"Something's wrong"
Her feet moves forward, her body readies to rush in.
Nemea's howl pierces the tension, the red eyes of her glimmers so brightly it affects her vision.
"I feel it!" she exclaims, her body starts to sprint out of the carriage.
"LADY! COME BACK!" the kind man shouts, his hand trying to grab her.
"SOMETHING'S HERE!" she shouts, trying to reach Aias. Her figure now outside the carriage. Simultaneously—nemea lowers herself into a pouncing stance.
Aias turns his gaze towards her and—BOOM!
An explosion tears through the ground on their right, in the forest.
The dust kicks up with the sound of something meaty slamming into dirt.
Jonas picks up again, he's close to the top of the pack.
"Jonas!" she says, head turning back towards him and quickly steadies her body before running out towards him.
Then again—BOOM!
Her concentration falters, near her on the left were kicked up with dust as well.
Another explosion, on the left.
The men yell, their weapons drawn and feet shuffling.
Blue jacketed men flails their staffs of frozen wood.
"HOLD!" the sharp-shouldered man yells.
Where the first explosion is, a giant hand comes through—something familiar.
Then its head peeks through.
"IT'S AN OGRE!" a man in red robes shouts, his hand writing on his tome, the rest of the red robes follow suit.
Heavy-plated men in the back stand their ground, moving closer to the red robes to protect them if anything happens.
The therians wait for the commander's commands.
But Jonas is moving on his own.
Aias lifts his lance, that energy exuding—he whistles and Nemea rushes onto the one on the right, its body and one leg already coming out from the hole.
She turns back, "where.. where is he?!"
Jonas is gone from where he was, a commanding yell radiates from the front.
"WARRIORS OF THERION, SPLIT AND BATT—" Aias' sentence cuts short.
In horror, Anastasia's gaze turns onto Aias.
"A-aias?"
From Anastasia's eyes, the world was stopping.
That split second feels like forever. The men yelling, the ogres groaning—whistling of arrows, growls from Nemea, the heat from fireballs and cold from ice all around.
But her attention is on Aias.
His usual posture–big, strong, tall, and confident—is now staggered, almost kneeling.
Behind him, Jonas comes into view, striking him with a dagger—somehow piercing through his hard armor.
The world moves again.
"AIAS!!" she yells, Aias' legs giving out but he stops his fall with his right foot.
"DEFEAT THE OGRES!" he yells, while a dagger is stuck in his back.
Jonas smiles as though death himself has pardoned him.
The men see the situation, still fighting the monsters in accordance with Aias' command.
"FIGHT!" The sharp shouldered man yells, running towards the ogre with some sort of spectral talons.
The rest of the therians follow suit, their arms glowing the same way.
Anastasia starts sprinting, "GET AWAY FROM HIM!" she screams—growling.
Aias prepare to swing his lance one armed, his weak body trembling as he does.
Jonas lunges close to Aias and dodges his swinging lance before removing the dagger and stepping back.
Aias recoils in pain, groaning. His lance fall off from his hand.
Anastasia picks up pace, her face in anger.
"What are you doing?!" Anastasia snarls slightly, that red glimmer in her eyes as bright as the fireball casted behind.
Jonas turns towards her. "His mission." he replies, coldly.
Aias' knee hits the ground as he looks back at Jonas. "Why would you..?" he asks.
Jonas looks back, smiling like a madman.
His dagger in hand unlike normal ones—it has a reddened groove on the blade which seems to be filled with Aias' blood.
"This world will be saved." Jonas replies, his monotone voice contrasts his smile.
Another smaller explosion occurs, the right ogre groans, one of its burned arms falls from above, landing in between Anastasia and Jonas.
Her stride stops, "You won't get away!"
"I have prepared for this, 'Nameless'."
"Besides," he turns again towards Anastasia, "Told you it was a big day," he grins while saying it.
Anastasia's legs move in anger, the trees and grass seem to move along with her.
She lunges, her speed like that of an arrow—wind left behind as she dashes.
The burned arm pushed away the pressure.
Jonas recoils in surprise, his hands glow a spectral green claw—he swipes towards Anastasia, blocking her attack.
"Ouch?!" He groans as his arm trembles from her strike.
He swings her off, Anastasia is flung a little to the back—her feet planted on the ground while she lowers herself again, preparing to strike.
"You're not human are you" his chuckle continues.
"Aias said I'm human," she looks at him unblinking, brows furrowed—her eyes glaring at him.
"ANASTASIA!" Aias screams, putting pressure on where his armor is stabbed—slowly standing up and moving towards them.
Jonas smiles wider.
"HAH! You were lying!"
"Anasta–sia." Jonas mockingly and ecstatically exclaims.
Her furrowed brows arches below, stance lowering as her arms position themselves near her waist.
"Don't"
"Say"
"My"
"NAME!" Anastasia lunges again, his hand reaches into his pocket—taking out a scroll of some sort.
"Big day!" he exclaims, menacingly.
Anastasia's arm reaches towards him, Jonas fluidly steps back and start falling backwards—hand holding out the scroll.
Her sharpened nail tears the scroll instead of Jonas' face.
His smile is so wide, it is as if he had won.
The space behind him seems to ripple.
An oval-shaped rift in space opens behind as he falls naturally into it.
Her momentum carrying her diagonally next to Jonas, "I can't move fast enough!" her eyes following Jonas' fleeting figure while shaking.
Anastasia's realization hits hard, that red glimmer shining brighter.
"AARRGH!" she screams a war cry, his body falls in—the arm holding the scroll remains left.
Anastasia's last-ditch effort of attack, her only wish is to see him "DIE," Anastasia's mind cursing him.
As his arm is about to disappear, familiar vines shoots up from the ground—there are four of them, intertwined as a lance that severs Jonas' wrist from his unseen body.
White and black petals flutter in the wind as they fall off from the vine's speed.
The portal closes, Aias now standing in place—he watched the whole sequence, still pressing his pierced armor.
Jonas' hand—holding onto the torn scroll, blood pooling onto the dirt ground.
Her maroon vines sprawl across the dirt, tinted blood-red.
Those flowers emitting a distinct scent, fly in the wind and scatter throughout the path.
The ogre on the right is dead, burnt to a crisp.
The ogre on the left retreated back underground, the surroundings covered in ice.
No one else had seen what happened, all they know is that Jonas stabbed Aias' back.
"Commander!"
"WHERE DID JONAS GO?!"
"I'LL CHOP HIS HEAD OFF MYSELF!"
"The ogres must've been a distraction!"
"May the sinner meet the daughter's gaze!"
The men's voices—the heavy plates, red robes, blue jackets and the therians.
Their voices angry, disappointed, worried, confused.
But even through all that, her attention is only on Aias.
"AIAS!" she screams, running towards him.
He watches, while blue-jacketed men rushes toward him.
"Are you okay?!" Anastasia asks.
Aias still just looks at her, a pause lingers between her question and his answer.
"I'm okay, I didn't think a blade could pierce through this black iron," he answers, as the men take off his boots, helmet, chest plate and back piece.
His pooled blood drops to the ground as they work, it splashes audibly, painting the dirt red.
Her eyes quiver, her pupils shrinks.
"No… Please!" her voice cracking.
"I will be fine!" Aias says, sternly.
"Pagoniáns are great in first aid." he reassures her, as the blue jacketed man stops his bleeding.
"Believe in me, okay?"
"Alright." She replies, her body loosens as she inches closer.
"Commander, once your wound is wrapped–please stay put in the carriage." the pagonián man says, while wrapping Aias' puncture.
"..Yeah, Euclid will take command. Relay it to everyone," Aias replies.
He looks directly onto Anastasia, a face full of uncertainties put on.
"Anastasia."
"Aias.. does it hurt?" she asks
"I can handle it."
"More importantly, those vines.." his head turns towards them.
"Did you do that?" his voice demands an answer.
"I.. I think so." she replies, her hand hold onto her elbow.
"When it happened, I felt like I did it." she clarifies.
Aias' movements halts for a moment, eyes looking onto the secluded forest.
"Okay." he replies in monotone.
"Commander sir, wrapping is done. Do not do any sudden movements," his wrapping tied by the pagonián.
"Good, tell Euclid to leave some scouts here."
"We need to find out where those ogres came from, Jonas might've been whispered by the sophist." his eyes locks onto Jonas' scroll.
He whistles, Nemea appears behind Anastasia.
"Come here girl, help me up"
She walks past Anastasia, Nemea's eyes scanning Anastasia as she walks towards Aias.
The pagonián walks away towards the sharp shouldered man, relaying him some sort of message.
Aias now standing up, slightly slouched — his arm atop Nemea who is as tall as his ribs, supporting his movements.
He walks past Anastasia, her legs unmoving while looking at her vines. "Come Anastasia, we're going home." his gaze turns towards her.
Anastasia's eyes snap back towards his, "home.." she mutters, slowly following behind him.
"Okay."