Chapter 888 - 890
Then he sensed it: breath that wasn’t his own, drifting around him but only around him. He froze, arms against a great rock, tree roots below whispering. The island exhaled.
Where earlier had been mist, now stood shimmering trails that bent like smoke, gathering among the trees farther up. He pushed forward, feeling the lifetime of memories swelling in his mind. He recognized the crackle in the air, electric, like static; he smelled something cleaner, a memory of washed linen; he heard low promise in the air.
About ninety paces up, a figure waited by a fallen pillar, another relic, its weight covered in moss. And with the blur of motion he knew well, a flicker of blue, like stained-glass under water, it rose into view.
It’s not forming. It’s unraveling, shifting. A silhouette that, as he approached, flickered from animalistic shape to humanoid form, regal stance, too tall to be human, limbs ropy, head horned with vines. Its surface flickered like light through leaves.
"Jude," it said. Not like wind, or with mouth, but inside.
He swallowed down the urge to flinch. "Show me."
He lifted the clay flask, then shook his head. He’d filled it with clear water, but his fingers only felt slip. He thought of burning it. Purifying it. But he pressed it to his forehead instead, as though asking mercy.
There, a flicker of remembrance. Then nothing.
The shape advanced. Leaves drifted. A spiral of blue dust rose from its chest. It paused, head tilted, like a curious child. Then it was beside him, its shoulder brushing his. He felt pleasant familiarity under the impulse of his own skin, safety, protection, trust in warmth. And the warning: no, no, no.