Chapter Twentytwo
The sun rose over the treeline, casting a golden light that did absolutely nothing to improve Siurad’s mood.
He looked like a man who had gone twelve rounds with a nightmare. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles that rivaled the black metal of his armor. He trudged along the path, his boots dragging slightly, a look of murderous exhaustion etched onto his face.
Beside him, Alexander didn't look much better. The young priest was twitchy, jumping at the sound of falling leaves.
“Does she...” Alexander whispered, leaning in close to Siurad and glancing fearfully at Yona, who was walking ahead of them, stretching her arms and looking annoyingly refreshed. “Does she make that sound every night?”
“The rattling?” Siurad rasped, his voice gravelly.
“The growling,” Alexander corrected, shuddering. “It sounded like a bear was fighting a sawmill inside a cavern. I woke up around 3:00 AM; the vibration was shaking my teeth loose. How is such noise physically possible from a human woman of her stature?”
“It’s a mystery of the cosmos,” Siurad muttered. In truth, he knew it was because there was something seriously off about Yona. “I need to hit something. Preferably something edible. If I see another rabbit, I’m going to set the forest on fire.”
Yona slowed down, letting them catch up. She took a swig from her wine skin, wiped her mouth, and grinned at Siurad’s corpse like appearance.
“Rough night, Shepherd?” she teased, her eyes sparkling. “You look…. deathly ill.”
“I didn’t sleep,” Siurad grunted. “Because someone was trying to inhale the entire atmosphere.”
“Yeah, I noticed you tossing and turning,” Yona laughed, unbothered. “C’mon. Quit whining. Let’s go find your boar. I’m sick of rabbit too.”
They veered off the main road into a ravine that cut through the landscape like a muddy scar. It was unremarkable terrain, save for the sudden, crackling energy that filled the air.
Siurad stopped dead, his mouth falling open. He pointed a gauntleted finger toward the canopy.
“Yona. What the hell are those?”
Alexander looked up and gasped, clutching his staff. “By the Light...”
A half-dozen squirrels, their fur a bright, coppery-red, were chasing each other through the high branches. But as they leaped, they streamed sparks of raw, blue-white electricity. Every jump left a crackling trail in the air. It looked like a miniature lightning storm was having a panic attack in the trees.
“Sciurus Fulgur,” Alexander whispered, his scholar mode activating despite his fatigue. “Spark Squirrels. Rare in the south. Their cheek pouches contain a localized galvanic field. Fascinating.”
Yona just snorted, unimpressed. “They’re rats. Rats with a party trick.”
“A party trick?” Siurad said, his gamer brain firing on all cylinders. “That’s a lightning-based rodent. That is... that’s awesome. We gotta catch them all.”
“It’s awesome until one of their nests burns down a whole acre of forest,” Yona shot back, “or until one zaps you because you got too close to its nuts. They’re a menace. Now, come on. You wanted a boar, not a light show.”
'...DISTRACTED BY VERMIN,' Obi’s voice suddenly pulsed, breaking the morning silence. The voice echoed in both Siurad and Yona’s minds. '...THIS IS THE MORTAL FLAW. FOCUS ON THE TASK.'
“Negative Nancy… Welcome back to the party, Grumpy-pants,” Siurad muttered.
“He’s right though,” Yona said, tapping her temple. “Focus. Meat.”
“Fine, fine. Boar. Let’s...”
“Shh!” Yona hissed, grabbing Siurad’s arm with surprising strength. She went instantly still. To Alexander, she just looked intense. To Siurad, who knew better, he saw the way her head tilted, listening with ears that weren't visible.
“Shut up and look,” she whispered. “Down.”
Siurad and Alexander froze. They followed her gaze down into the ravine where a small stream trickled through the mud.
“Sweet Mercy,” Alexander breathed, his face losing all color.
It was a massive carriage sized pig covered in covered in fur. The boar was the size of a small shack, draped in thick, matted black bristles. Four long, wicked-looking tusks jutted from its jaw like ivory daggers. It was rooting in the mud, tearing up tree roots as if they were wet paper.
“Tusker,” Yona whispered, her eyes glittering with a predatory hunger. “Big one.”
“Okay,” Siurad whispered back, his analytical side kicking in. “I go high, surprise him with a sneak attack. You hit it with... a frost spell... to slow it?”
Yona looked at him like he had just suggested they dance with it. “Are you insane? That’s meat! Are you going to hit it with shadow? I hit it with ice? We’ll be eating ‘shadow-frosted-asshole.’ No. This is food. We hunt it like food.”
“Which is...?”
“Simple,” she said, a grin spreading across her face that made Alexander take a step back. “I hit it with fire. Just enough to spook it. It’ll run... that way.” She pointed to a narrow, overgrown game trail leading up the ravine wall. “You go down there, act like a big, scary man, and put a Shadow Spike in its brain when it runs past. Got it?”
“I’m... the ambush?”
“You’re the ambush,” she confirmed. “Don’t correct the ass-end, or we’ll be eating shit. Now, go.”
She turned to Alexander. “Saint, you stay here. If it comes up this way, pray.”
“I am very good at praying,” Alexander nodded vigorously, retreating behind a large rock.
Siurad grumbled but saw her logic. He took a deep breath, found a patch of shadow near the trail, and Void Stepped. He reappeared in a dense thicket of bushes halfway down the slope. The spot was perfect. He crouched, forming a single, dense Shadow Spike in his hand, and waited.
He heard Yona let out a high-pitched “Yeeee!” followed by the distinct whoosh of a fireball.
Then he heard the squeal. It sounded more like a roar of pure, demonic rage belonging to a monster; it vibrated in Siurad’s chest.
The ground thundered. The Tusker came barreling up the game trail, far faster and bigger than he’d realized from a distance. Its fur was smoking, and its eyes were glowing a furious, hellish red.
Yona! You left out the demon-pig part! he screamed internally.
The boar saw the bush. It saw Siurad. It lowered its head, aiming its four tusks right at him. It was not running past. It was running at him.
“Oh, shit!” Siurad yelled, his plan evaporating. “Shadow Spike! Shadow Spike!”
He didn’t shoot one precise shot. Panic took the wheel. He went guns akimbo, firing a volley of three random spikes from his flailing hands. They grazed the creature’s massive shoulder and neck, tearing through muscle but missing the vitals.
It roared in pain. And it didn’t stop.
'...THE HEAD YOU FOOL!' Obi seethed in his mind, the voice deafening. '...THE VITAL IS THE HEAD!'
At the very last second, Siurad did the only thing he could. He Void Stepped straight up.
He reappeared, clinging desperately to a tree branch ten feet above the trail, his legs dangling just as the massive Tusker slammed into the tree trunk. The impact shook the entire oak, nearly jarring Siurad loose. The beast roared and thrashed below, its tusks gouging deep wounds into the wood, looking for the man who had stung it.
Siurad just hung there, hugging the bark, his heart trying to escape his chest.
Yona appeared on the ridge above, peering down over the edge.
“Well,” she called down, her voice dripping with amusement. “You got it. Sort of. Now it’s just... angry. And corrected in all the non-lethal, meat-ruining places.”
“It’s a demon pig!” Siurad yelled back, swinging slightly on the branch.
“It is a Sus Diabolus!” Alexander helpfully shouted from behind his rock. “Very aggressive!”
“Thank you, Alexander!” Siurad shouted sarcastically.
“Finish it off, Heir!” Yona cackled. “I’m hungry!”
The boar, bleeding black shadow-ichor, slammed the tree again.
Siurad let out a long, shaky breath. “This... is the ‘Great Work’? Clinging to a tree like a frightened cat?”
'...FINISH THE JOB HEIR,' Obi pulsed, his voice one of pure, cold impatience. '...AND STOP BEING DRAMATIC.'
Siurad sighed. He looked down at the raging beast. He took a moment, aimed carefully from his perch, and formed one perfect, heavy Shadow Spike.
“Okay, okay,” he muttered. “To the shadows with you.”
He shoved his will into it, and the spike lanced down, plunging straight into the creature’s skull, burying itself to the hilt. The Tusker gave one final, massive convulsion and collapsed into the mud, still.
Siurad dropped from the branch, landing in the muck, covered in leaves and sweat. He stared at the mountain of meat.
Yona gracefully slid down the ravine wall, her knife already in hand. “Nice,” she said, patting the corpse. “You ruined most of the shoulder, but the rest is good.” She grinned, her chaotic energy back in full. “We’ll be eating like kings tonight, Shepherd. See? The Great Work provides.”
Siurad, wiping a mix of demon-pig blood and shadow-magic residue off his face, just glared at her.
I’m eating rabbit next time, he thought.
'...PATHETIC,' Obi chimed.
Night fell, and the fire crackled high, casting flickering, warm light against the hollow of rock they had claimed. The air was now thick with the rich, savory smell of roasting Tusker, a scent so good it almost made up for the near-death experience.
Yona was in her element. She hummed a tuneless, jaunty song as she turned a massive haunch of meat over the flames, the fat sizzling and popping.
Siurad sat on the other side of the fire, quietly cleaning his longsword. Alexander sat nearby, staring at the roasting meat with something approaching religious adoration.
“Dinner’s served, boys,” Yona chirped, using her knife to slide a scorched, fist-sized chunk of meat onto a flat stone. She pushed it toward Siurad with her foot, then handed a smaller portion to Alexander. “Try not to eat the parts the big guy corrected.’ You ruined most of the shshoulderSiurad, but this leg piece should be fine.”
Siurad glared at her, still nursing his wounded pride. He took the memeat, sulking.
“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Yona laughed, tearing into her own piece with animalistic gusto. “You ended up in a tree, but you got the kill. Call it a win.”
Siurad took a reluctant bite. The flavor exploded in his mouth; it was rich, smoky, gamey in all the right ways. It was warm. It was filling. Best of all, it wasn't rabbit.
He hated that she was right.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “It’s good. But I’m not doing the ambush part again.”
“Whatever you say, big guy.”
Alexander took a bite and let out a soft moan of delight. “Oh, bless the Light. Actual sustenance. I believe my soul just returned to my body.”
'...CALORIES ACQUIRED,' Obi noted, the ring humming softly. '...ENERGY LEVELS RESTORING. PROCEED.'
They ate in a companionable silence. The food was hot, they were alive, and for the first time since leaving Brookshire, Siurad felt a moment of simple, secure peace. Even if his roommate did snore like a bear.
The fire popped, sending a shower of sparks up toward the stars. Alexander was happily gnawing on a second rib, his face smeared with grease, looking more content than he had been since leaving the monastery. Yona was leaning back against a rock, picking her teeth with a splinter of bone, humming that same jaunty, tuneless song.
But Siurad wasn’t humming. He was staring into the flames, replaying the hunt in his mind. The image of the massive boar crashing into the tree and his own panic gnawed at him.
'...YOU ARE BROODING,' Obi’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and intrusive.
"I'm analyzing," Siurad corrected internally, taking a swig of water. "There's a difference."
'...YOU ARE DWELLING ON THE HESITATION,' the Ring countered. '...WHEN THE SQUIRRELS APPEARED YOU STOPPED. YOU LOST FOCUS.'
"They were electric squirrels, Obi. It was cool. I took a second."
'...A SECOND IS A LIFETIME IN COMBAT,' Obi lectured, the violet light on the ring pulsing with a rhythmic, scolding beat. '...THAT SENTIMENTALITY, THAT DESIRE TO OBSERVE INSTEAD OF ACT IT IS THE FANIE-FLAW.'
Siurad froze. He lowered the waterskin slowly.
'The what?' Siurad thought back, his brow furrowing. “You’ve called me inefficient. You’ve called me weak. You’ve called me pathetic about twelve times today. But you’ve never used that name. Who is Fanie?”
The ring on his finger, which had been pulsing with a steady, lecturing rhythm, stopped dead.
The silence that followed was heavy. It felt like the air pressure in the campsite had suddenly dropped to the bottom of the ocean.
Yona stopped humming. She sat up straighter, her ears twitching as she looked at Siurad’s hand. She had heard the silence too.
'...IRRELEVANT,' Obi finally replied, but his voice was different. It wasn't the booming baritone of a god; it was flat. Mechanical. '...FOCUS ON THE MISSION.'
”No,” Siurad pushed back, his resolve hardening. He sat up, ignoring Alexander’s confused look. “Don't do that. Don't omit variables on me. We’re partners, remember? 50-50. You talk about Xara and Lysander all the time. You critique their geometry; you critique their rage. But you just used this name as an insult. A flaw. Who was Fanie?”
A long, cold, absolute silence filled his mind. It was the silence of a locked vault.
Yona winced, pressing the heel of her hand against her temple. "Oof," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Pressure drop. Big guy, whatever you just asked... he didn't like it."
Alexander looked up, a rib bone poised halfway to his mouth. "I beg your pardon? Is the artifact... upset?"
Then, Obi spoke. It wasn't a shout. It was a hiss of pure, unadulterated shame and rage that vibrated in Siurad’s marrow.
'...FANIE.'
The name dripped with ice.
'...SHE WAS XARA'S HEIR. SHE WAS MY TRUST. MY HOPE. SHE IS THE FLAW THAT BROKE THE SYSTEM.'
Siurad's blood ran colder than the night air. “She's the one? The traitor you mentioned? The one who trapped you?”
'...SHE TURNED THEM AGAINST ME,' Obi seethed, the Ring vibrating so violently on Siurad’s finger that his gauntlet rattled against his armor. '...SHE TOOK MY MERCY, AND SHE FORGED IT INTO A DAGGER. SHE IS THE REASON WE ARE IN THIS PRISON.'
Yona actually recoiled, scuttling back a few inches on the log. "Okay! Okay!" she hissed at the empty air, clutching her head. "Loud! We get it! Bad lady! Stop screaming!"
Alexander dropped his rib. He looked frantically between Siurad, whose face was a mask of shock, and Yona, who was holding her head as if suffering a migraine. The shadows around the fire seemed to stretch toward them, hungry and agitated.
"Is..." Alexander squeaked, gripping his staff with greasy fingers. "Is something happening? The air feels... heavy."
The Entity's voice dropped to a level of cold, absolute finality that chilled Siurad to his very soul.
'...NEVER SPEAK THAT NAME.'
The connection cut. The ring went dormant, not in sleep, but in a sulk of cosmic proportions. The violet light extinguished, leaving the obsidian band looking like dead, cold stone.
Siurad sat there, staring into the fire. The boar fat was still sizzling, but his appetite was gone.
He thought he would face resistance trying to rebuild the Authority from the world; he didn't think he would face it from Obi. And he knew, with chilling certainty, that his all-powerful, god-like partner had been lying to him, or at least, editing the truth. Obi wasn’t just a victim of a war; he was a victim of a betrayal he was too ashamed to admit.
I know you can hear me, buddy, Siurad thought, his mental voice calm but firm. So we'll talk about it when you're ready. But I definitely have questions.
"Is it over?" Yona asked, rubbing her ears and grimacing. "I think he just screamed in a frequency that kills bats."
"It's over," Siurad said quietly, flexing his hand. The ring felt heavier now.
"Good," Alexander exhaled, picking his rib back up but eyeing Siurad’s hand with deep suspicion. "Because for a moment there, I felt a level of malice usually reserved for arch-demons. Who is... Fanie?"
"No one," Siurad said, kicking a log further into the fire, sending a plume of sparks into the night. "Just a ghost."
Yona looked at Siurad. She had heard the name. She had heard the rage. She gave him a look that said, We are definitely talking about this later, but she said nothing in front of the priest.
"Right," Yona said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her amber eyes. "Ghosts. Hate them. Now, where's my wine skin, Saint? My ears are ringing."