At the Altar of Dragons

Session 23 | Chapter #

There’s a lightness in the group that we haven’t felt in a long time. Energy hums from person to person as each takes a turn drinking and laughing louder than is respectful after the bloodbath that occurred hours earlier.

“Alright, Silvyr, it's your turn. Smash or pass?” Layna’s words are slightly slurred but the confidence in her tone is unmistakable.

Silvyr’s eyes dart around the fire. “Um, who?”

“Alba!” A few of the group say in unison.

“Oh,” he hesitates, “I don’t want to die.”

Alba cracks a sly smile and says, “I can always use lay on hands after.”

A slight reddish tint comes to Silvyr’s cheeks as he replies, “Then yes.” Laughter and the sound of liquor sloshing are the soundtrack of our night. This sequence continues, the questions jumping from person to person until the focus lands on me. My heart rate spikes and suddenly the bottle feels slick beneath my palm. Of course it was going to lead here. Did I really think somehow this question would be avoided? It’s so easy to imagine the words coming out of her mouth, “No, we’re just friends.” That sentence would cut far deeper than it should. Far deeper than I ever should have allowed it to go.

A couple of the others answer — Silvyr, thank the gods, says no. Raesh says yes, and with an air like he’s been hinting at this for a while. It’s news to me, but his current advances have all the subtlety of using fireball to light a candle.

It’s no use though; my gaze drifts to the edge of her boot, tucked beneath her crossed legs. My skin pricks at the base of my neck and I take a long drink from my bottle. It burns going down but the pain is welcomed.

It’s her turn. I feel the moment she begins to answer but in an instant, Alba is laughing uncontrollably, and Zerif has put down his work and is looking at the turret which is trained on Silvyr. My eyes widen—I didn’t hear her answer. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better I don’t know—don’t hear the words out loud.

Layna claps her hands together, gathering everyone’s attention, and declares, “Perona’s up—“

But she’s cut off abruptly by Evangeline, the terrifying Paladin that I thought would surely kill us earlier tonight. She stands and with a tone that leaves no room for argument, announces, “Game’s over—that was fun. If anyone answers for Perona, your life will end tonight.”

Black pools at the edges of my vision. A shrill ringing fills my ears before I hear his voice in the back of my head, See? You should be focused on your mission, Huntress.

I shake his words out of my head as I stand and grab another bottle of liquor. I need to get out of here. Away. As far away from this as possible.

Now.

The black edges blend into the shadows of the forest, clawing into and twisting my vision. Blood pulses in my ears as I storm through the underbrush. Coming to the base of a tree, I chance a look over my shoulder—Layna and Silvyr are arguing with Alba for gods know what, and she’s sitting exactly where I left her with Goose curled in front of the space I vacated.

Tears scorch the edges of my eyes, but I swallow them down and climb, higher and higher until I can properly tuck myself into the leaves. I hook my leg around a fork in the branch and lean my head back against the trunk.

“Foolish,” I breathe out, the bite and heat in that single word cuts the air in front of me. “How stupid could I have been?”

The Priest’s voice surrounds me again, You are nothing beyond your mission. You think that noble fae would even look at you as anything more than a tool? You are a spec on this planet compared to her. My eyes close as streams of hot tears cut through the dirt and blood splattered on my face.

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I’m back in the ring–my training mates line three of the sides with the fourth open to the cliff’s edge. Master Windwalker’s staff swings in a wide arc around him before it cracks me in the ribs. My body flies back, sliding dangerously close to the exposed edge. He scowls and his eyes are laced with disappointment. “How could you be worthy of Goisa when you can’t even remain dedicated to staying on your feet?” He spits on the ground beside my head, the spray misting the side of my face. “You think the spirit of one of Bahamut’s chosen would want you after this? On your feet, child.”

My hands are shaking, barely able to hold onto my twin axes. He circles his staff above his head and just as it begins to descend, a single word cuts through the memory, “Marigold?”

I can’t help myself—a single laugh coughs out of me. Only she would equate me to a sunny flower. The ranger trained on the edge of a mountain, soul hardened by the biting wind and even harsher words. The sound of her voice in the dark slackens the tension in my jaw and shoulders, carrying it away like a cool breeze.

Perona continues to stomp around the base of the tree. I glance down to see her peeking into bushes as she searches for the source of the laugh. I’m powerless to stop the smile from flickering at the edge of my mouth. A warmth spreads through my body as I feel Goose stretch his legs out beside the fire back at camp. A single claw scratches at the edge of my consciousness, and I lean my head into the sensation to let him know I’m still here. I am present and no longer lost in a phantom of the past. “Thank you for choosing me,” I whisper to him.

I should stay exactly where I am. Perona’s had enough to drink that I doubt she realizes where I am. I should stay silent—let this moment pass into a fleeting memory, but one that will still cut me like a blade. I should—“I’m in the tree,” my voice croaks. I don’t even remember willing my mouth to open, let alone commanding sound to escape. I shouldn’t have said a single word, but I did. Because it’s her. Anyone else and I would have gladly frozen alone with my bottle of liquor in the cold night.

Leaves rustle as Perona sits down at the base of the tree and angles her gaze towards me. It’s such a simple thing, but it eases so much of the fire building in my blood. It shouldn’t, but it does.

Her voice floats like a song as she asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course,” I fight myself to say. Throwing hands and fists, kicking and grappling around the word that still manages to squeak out, “No.”

It hangs between us—the honesty hitting me in the gut harder than any punch Master Windwalker could ever deliver. “What are you doing here?” I fight so hard to keep the edge out of my voice, but the anger still coats my vocal chords.

A moment passes before she responds, “I was worried about you…and it seems rightfully so.”

I scoff—I actually fucking scoff. What is wrong with me?

Instead of shutting me out, Perona continues, “What happened?”

Nothing.

I’m drunk.

I want to be alone.

I have to be alone.

“The game got a little too real,” I state and the weight that I feel on my chest lifts ever so slightly. A slight hum comes from below, and I add, “Realer than I was ready for. At least yet.”

In the cold darkness, the barest caress of magic flicks across my skin–Perona’s magic. It’s warm, like sunshine, like cider on a crisp fall afternoon, and I feel a slight ache in my chest subside.

I shouldn’t, but I climb down the tree anyways, careful to plant my boots on the side opposite where she sits. I brace my back firmly against the trunk, staring directly ahead of me. I can’t look at her right now. Or more accurately, she can’t see me like this.

Something pulls me to move around the tree, to turn into her, to stamp down all the noise in my head. But the tears streaming hot down my cheeks hold me in place, nailed to the trunk. So I do what I can, and yet it feels like I’m reaching across a damn chasm. Inch by inch, my hand reaches behind me, searching for just the barest touch.

Two of her fingers hook into mine and a breath shudders out of me, fighting to build into a scream and tear its way out of my throat. Like the dream that she is, music fills the crisp night air. The soft lullaby melody is accompanied by her sweet voice, and I lay my head back against the rough bark. The music lulls my racing heart into a steady rhythm and cools the tears that are still falling silently.

“You’ll be visited by sleep. I promise that soon the autumn comes to steal away each dream you keep. Breathe, breathe, breathe,” she sings, her voice lilting around each word and spinning them to me.

I don’t remember falling asleep.