Time and Tide (Solo)

[Tobias Stalt]

A thousand questions mangle together in a single word. "How?" The woman I held close as she took her last breath, with my blade plunged deep into her bowels now held my face lovingly. The way she looked at me was still warm, but her fingers were colder than the breath of Winter outside. There was something in her smile that seemed sad, though I could find no hint of its true nature. There is a gentleness in her movements, even in her words as she holds me, bewitched. "I watched you die."

"What is done can be undone," she whispers. A cryptic answer. Not helpful. "But let us speak on more pressing things."

What could be more pressing than this? Every scar on my heart is opened anew, ruptured by something beyond belief. My fingers trace her flesh, surreal but soft. Erica would be more happy to see me than this, wouldn't she? Or would she be angry? I am the man who betrayed her, who left her to die. Who could blame her?

"In the deep north, something stirs." She holds my gaze, but her expression is grave. She's serious. "Salvar was home to civilizations lost to memory, and the ancient people did not worship the Sway. The religion here is new, compared to the enigmas that lurk in the wastes."

She is referring to some ancient faith, something not unlike the gods kept in the East. Something Ancient, older than recorded history. "Old gods," the words leave my mouth, a low growl. This is the second time I have seen surprise in her eyes.

"You mustn't name them," she hisses, a hushed sound. The fear is evident in her eyes as they snap once more to the door. "You know-"

I place a finger to her lips. Erica never indoctrinated into the All-Seeing Eye. She can't feel what I do. She was right.

I shouldn't have said that.

With a hand slid beneath my cloak, I survey the door carefully. The wind is howling; if there was a sound from outside, we would never hear it. The wilds were wailing. I press Erica to the floor quickly, shake my head. She watches my eyes dart quickly across the floor, the walls, and the ceiling. "Tobias?" she whispers.

There.

I never look down toward her, because I never have the chance. The far wall of the carriage splinters inward. The icy scream of the outdoors floods in and I scrape Erica across the floor, tossing her limp behind me. She slams into the wall as the coach topples, and lays prone as my blade flashes. The candlelight illuminating our small quarters flickered out an instant, and I could not see the assailant.

Just it's ragged, erratic breath. The smell of nickel, and razor digits that caught the moonlight just in time for a long knife to obstruct their path. A lycanthrope? No. Its eyes lack that feral glint, they aren't lambent. The creature leans close, the source of blood scent now apparent. At this distance, I can see its eyes.

So black that they absorbed all light.

"Give her to me," it demands. The voice is hideous, devoid of all life and emotion. Its unbelievable strength bears down and forces me to give ground. The beast pulls back and thrusts forward again. Blood sloshes outward from my face, but also from the massive palm mere inches from me. The dull blue light of my knife chills the creature's wound, and the crystalized viscera smashes into the overturned carriage, shattered. "You stole her," it yowls.

"Gods don't bleed," I bite back, and it reels away from me. Like a spider, it creeps along the side of the carriage seeking purchase with its claws. "And you won't touch her."

It hesitates.

I watch it sink backward and crawl over the side of the cart, where it watches me for a long moment. The blades on its hand dig into the wood, and it screams. The sound is inhuman, full of agony. Its blood spews down and stains the floor before it bounds out of view. I remain above Erica standing vigil, but only the wind reaches my ears.

I swear it whispered to me.