Chapter 381: Hints of a Cure
I remembered only snapshots of the following few days. Arriving in the camp of the Last Light Company, nearly falling off of Fable, being surrounded by worried faces, and the scolding of a very irritated Elinore. Through it all, the horrible ache of my soul and the scorching heat of the sunpurge.
It was almost a week later that I regained full coherence, sitting up in bed with a sharp breath. Sweat soaked my thin nightdress and my breath was short and erratic. I groped blindly around me, searching for warm, silken fur but found only blankets. Light ones, at that, given the sensitive nature of the sunpurge.
Just as my chest was starting to tighten with panic, Fable’s scent washed over me and a tongue dragged across my cheek. My gasp was part surprise part relief, and I threw myself forward, wrapping my arms around my wolf’s neck and burying my face in his fur. He must have climbed onto the bed because the entire frame creaked in protest, but I didn’t care, holding him tight until I finally stopped trembling.
"Nightmares?"
Elinore’s soft voice startled me from the reunion, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Fable’s embrace and only nodded.
"Elise..." I said, squeezing my eyes shut. "I-It was just a bad dream?"
The life mage must have and stood and approached, because her hand appeared on my head, gently stroking my hair. "I’m...afraid not. We don’t know exactly what’s going on Brithlite, but after hearing what happened..." Elinore’s voice trailed off.
She was quiet for a few moments, and I shivered as her hand fell still, resting just between my horns. "There’s more, my lady. It’s Sari, the foxkin you tried to save."
"N-no," I whispered, shaking my head, nearly dislodging her comforting touch. "It’s can’t be!"
Immediately, the fear I’d only started to lose returned. From the moment I fell unconscious after meeting with the demons, I’d been tormented by fragments of visions and nightmares, blending together until they became an incoherent tide of pain and darkness. I watched Sari die a thousand times, bleeding out or poisoned and going limp in my arms. Sometimes, her face changed to that of Aurle, and I was reliving the horrors of Byron’s hell all over again.
Worse than Sari was Elise. I was forced to watch her beat, tortured, and raped over and over again, all the while as she wore her warm smile, telling her tormentors how special they were to her, and how much she loved them.