Chapter 8

Trees

Miara deeply exhaled, sealing her lips shut. She tightened her right hand into a fist as an eerie bluish light shined through her fingers. When she opened her fist, lightning shot out and coiled around her own heart. She felt a squeezing pain in her chest that was akin to being bitten into, and her vision started to blur. Bastet took a step back. The woman's serene and determined demeanor made the scene seem like a common occurrence, like nothing out of ordinary, nothing to be afraid of, but she had just incapacitated herself. She let out no sound as she fell down, her mouth slightly opened while her hand was still gripping her chest. When Bastet attempted to move another step back, he found himself unable to do so. His feet were locked to the ground, and his body ignored his will.

Was it Ariadne’s curse? But why? His arm moved on its own as his thick, coarse fingers coiled around the sword that hung from his waist. A familiar numbness surged through him, and he flung his blade at the woman, burying it all the way to the back of her skull. The motion was swift and experienced, nothing like his usual swings. He brushed the bloodied blade against her lifeless body, and then his lips parted on their own – “Don’t be afraid. It’s me.” – But hearing his own voice did little to soothe him. His heart started racing as he went into a panic, but his body did little to express his internal turmoil. His breathing quickened, and his pupils dilated, but that was it. The woman who was supposed to help him was dead, and somehow Ariadne's curse displayed a will of its own? He desperately felt like raising his voice, but not an inch of his body belonged to him anymore. He felt like he was stuck under an impenetrable wall that curved right over his skin.

-“Calm yourself!” – his voice resounded firmly, and he could feel his own forehead creasing – “I’m Miara, the woman from before!”

Was this not the doing of Ariadne’s curse? The feeling was exactly the same so he assumed so, but what the hell was going on? No, now that he thought of it, Ariadne’s curse never took complete control of his body before. This was different, much stricter, and much more oppressing. – “Relax already!” – he growled through his teeth – “This is how we get out! I’m possessing you!”

He slowly realized what was going on. The spirit was the one moving his body, and the spirit was not bounded by Ariadne’s curse. Then… Wouldn’t they be able to just walk out of the city?

-“That woman was awake.” – Bastet’s finger pointed at the woman’s corpse – “Much like you are now. I had to take care of her first, or she would cause trouble.”

What a terrible fate, Bastet thought. Being awake, but completely helpless. How long had she been possessed for? She was another Wesian, his superior, but Miara could still kill her. Miara really could resist Ariadne’s curse. His legs moved him towards the collapsed Lilian. Her body looked small, and she seemed rather frail; as if a gust of wind could carry her away. Her arms looked like twigs, but it only made sense given that she had gone through months of starvation. Her pale skin gave the appearance that it could peel like a plum if snagged. But Miara paid it no attention and lifted her up quite roughly. Her wild crimson hair has overgrown, swirling down to her nose, and down the sides of her oval face.

-“Take her back to the Academy of Grand Arts. If you stay close to her, you won’t have to worry about dying.” – his voice trembled – “It would be wise to honor your word and take care of her.”

Bastet had no intentions of going back on his word. Sure, it would be easier to move around if he abandoned the girl, but whoever it was that emerged victorious from such a vicious act would no longer be him. Wesians already had his will; he would not lose his soul.

They went on ahead and soon reached as far as the cobblestone pavement stretched. Up ahead was just wet gravel, and traces of poorly made houses that did not endure the tooth of time. It could be the slums, or it could be that the town had still been expanding before its original residents left, leaving this part unfinished. On his left, he saw a birch tree with a rather massive trunk that was peeking through the collapsed roof of a house. This city must have been barren for many decades, he thought. Pervading everything was the most nausea-inducing fishy odor that one could imagine. Bastet could only guess where the smell was coming from, but Miara did not wish to risk moving too close to any food reserves and turned the other direction.

Their sneaking was interrupted by a deafening sound that blasted through the sky. Bastet was without a doubt startled, but Miara calmly turned his body around to take a look. A few moments later, another blast was fired and the ground beneath them shivered from the force, filling the air with dust. The steeple of the old church that arrogantly rose above the city’s skyline could no longer be seen – “Looks like the historian succeeded.” – and with those words Miara put Lilian on Bastet’s back and broke into a sprint. One dark alley after the next, they soon arrived in front of the city’s western gate. It seemed like it was still guarded, but with far less troops than before. Since they could hear blasts coming from the center of the city, the soldiers must have judged it appropriate to send reinforcements. Miara gathered her resolve and approached the gate.

-“You there! Stop!” – A hoarse voice resounded from the wall – “Where’d ya think ya goin’?!”

A confident voice escaped Bastet’s mouth – “Let us through! I am carrying out Lord Nillen’s orders!”

-“What orders?” – seeing that Ariadne’s curse did not stop Bastet in his tracks the old captain scoffed, and more Wesian guards soon flocked towards them.

-“Lord Nillen ordered me to take this child to Lesdren.” – Bastet’s body turned and showed the girl on his back.

-“Who is she?” – the old guard asked while some other Wesian chimed in – “Where’s the letter with the warden’s seal?”

-“No time for a formal seal, we’re being attacked!” – Miara yelled out from Bastet’s body and pointed at the smoke rising from the center of the town – “I must carry her to safety! You all better hurry back and help the fight!”

The old Wesian scratched the back of his head and squinted his eyes – “Yer skin and bones! If it’s so important, why’d Nillen order a new recruit to do it? Besides, I have orders from duke Aris to not let anyone through.”

The conversation raised quite a commotion and a lot of Wesians gathered around them. Once Bastet was close enough to smell the old man’s stinky breath, his eyes closed and he deeply exhaled. As the air left his chest, he felt like a big burden was lifted off of him, and the numb feeling of being possessed went away. Immediately afterwards, the old man’s attitude changed. – “Oh, forgive me! I-I understand!!” – The old man stuttered and tapped Bastet’s shoulder. – “Please, hurry outside!”

-“Captn’?” – someone asked but the old captain ignored him and dragged Bastet along. It must have been Miara’s doing, Bastet thought, she must have possessed the captain so they could get through. She dragged Bastet outside before yelling – “Now go, quickly! We will take care of the defense!”

Bastet nodded and thanked her. He understood that Miara had to stay behind. The old man was probably ordered to guard the walls. If he suddenly went outside, it would raise suspicion. And if Miara tried to go back into Bastet’s body, the old captain would be freed, and he would probably try to kill them. They had to leave her behind. With Lilian on his back, Bastet ran down the mountain.

***

Before long, Bastet realized that he made a terrible mistake. He took some meat with him, but he hasn’t taken any water. He thought he could drink some if he just followed the river, but wouldn’t that guarantee that he’ll run into more Wesian camps? He had no way of resisting Ariadne’s curse. If they asked him what he was doing there, he would have to admit he escaped. Following the river would be too dangerous. Once the road curved around the mountain to the point that he could no longer be seen from the watchtowers, he strayed into the woods. The sound of a waterfall was becoming more and more distinct, so he moved in the opposite direction, away from its source.

He had to move for what felt like quite a long time before he could no longer see any charcoal left by the fire that burned the forest yesterday. He welcomed the sight of dense trees, which saved him from the cold nightly wind. But the thick branches shut out the moonlight, so the forest was becoming loathsomely dark. The smell of damp leaves assaulted him more the deeper he went in. His footsteps were leaving deep marks in the wet soil, but there was nothing he could do about it, and he didn’t think it likely they’d be followed this soon. The air was so moist that he found himself short of breath. The pork he was carrying would surely go bad soon. It was deathly quiet; Bastet could hear nothing but twigs snapping under his quick steps.

He’s been walking for about two hours when he realized that the number of dead stumps he was seeing had suddenly drastically increased. There was an obscure suspiciousness shrouding this part of the forest. It suddenly struck him as very natural that no one would wish to approach it, let alone step foot into it. A primal fear awoke within him. There was something amiss about this place, something deeply mysterious and incomprehensible, and what was vague could not be measured, so it appeared boundlessly immense. He felt a weakness in his legs that was different from exertion. He tried to assure himself that the evil impression he was getting could not possibly be real, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that the leaves were staring at him, and that the darkness was drawing ever closer. He had to escape these maddening thoughts, but he kept catching glimpses of monstrous figures circling around him. He broke into a sprint. He could not afford to stay here.

He did not run long before the trees cleared, revealing a lonesome barn. As he approached, he saw a sign on which was carved:

Let chaos rage when a puzzle’s involved,

Come end of age, and the question’s resolved.

Bastet loudly gulped but heeded it no attention. He had to escape the trees. But as soon as he stepped forward, he could feel something sharp dig into his shoulders, and a warm breath brushed the side of his neck. His blood curled when the quiet voice whispered – “Don’t go inside.”