Anthesis of Sadness

The grilled meat didn’t taste good. Its blood still soaked into the flesh gave it a metallic flavor, but I was used to it. Eating hadn’t been a pleasure for a long time, just a necessity.

Lysara, on the other hand, devoured her piece ravenously. Her movements were jittery, almost feral, like a starving animal that had been deprived of food for too long. Her feverish gaze shone with a strange intensity. Seeing that spark in her eyes, however brief, warmed my heart. It meant there was still something left of her, something human.

— Want some more? I asked, offering her another piece.

She shook her head, wiping the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. She had gone silent again, absent. The moment had passed.

Meal over, we resumed our journey.

The days stretched on endlessly. The sand changed, the rocks too, but the silence remained the same. Each step carved a little more fatigue into our bones. Every night, I wondered how many more days it would take for us to become human again, or if it was already too late.

We followed the main road, though sometimes it split into other paths. I didn’t linger on them. My only goal was to move forward, to put as much distance as possible between us and whatever was chasing us.

The days passed. I tried to talk to her, to break the wall of ice she had built between us. Sometimes, she answered—a sliver of voice, a fleeting spark of emotion. But she would shut down again, as if every word cost her an inner battle.

I wasn’t too worried. We had time. Once we found Cassandre, she could help her. She’d know what to do.

One day, another Gorvak blocked our path. This time, Lysara fought without hesitation. Her gaze was more confident, her movements more precise. She had learned from her last fight. She was smart.

When the creature collapsed, she stood still for a moment, breathing hard. She stared at the blood dripping from her hands, thoughtful.