I took another gulp and stood aside, making my way back to the rock. I felt a million times better having drunk something, and started to wonder if the Druid had a way of getting us food as well.
“What’s the longest time you’ve ever had to wait for them?” I asked, my impatient nature wanting to work out how long, roughly, we’d be stuck under the punishing heat.
“A day and a night,” he replied.
Damn. This was going to be longer than I thought. I looked across the shelter of the rock into the distance, seeing if I could see anything that might be considered more suitable shelter, but there didn’t seem to be much—a few rocks, but none much larger than this one.
I settled back down on the ground, resigned to our fate.
It didn’t help matters that none of us wanted to talk much. It looked like everyone was still shell-shocked from their experience in the mists—some more than others. Field, I thought, must have had a particularly tough time of it—I’d never seen him look so shaken. Aida was the same. To make matters worse, we seemed particularly skittish around one another—Aida hadn’t so much as glanced at Field since we emerged, and I jumped to the logical conclusion that the voices might have been taunting her about a seemingly unrequited love. I hoped not. I imagined that her situation was bad enough as it was, without her worst fears exposed by the shape-shifters.
Once we all reconvened back at the rock, Draven spoke.
“When the Daughters arrive, none of you say a word. Let me do the talking. Remember what I said about them. They are fickle and merciless, and even if you don’t like what I’m saying, you are to remain silent.”
His last words were directed at the incubus, who rolled his eyes.
“Trust me, I’m not in any hurry to talk to them,” Bijarki replied emphatically. I wondered if he’d had dealings himself with the Daughters—was that why he’d been so reluctant before?
“Why not?” I asked, hoping he’d enlighten us.
“The Daughters aren’t fans of my species,” he replied, shrugging as if it didn’t bother him much either way. “Long ago—we’re talking centuries here, which will tell you a little bit about how long they can hold a grudge—one of the Daughters fell in love with an incubus. She foolishly renounced her guardianship of Eritopia to be with him. He didn’t love her back, and left her to be with another woman of his own species—a succubus. The Daughter was purposeless and alone—she wouldn’t be accepted back by the Daughters, they felt that their sister had betrayed them and wanted nothing more to do with her. She wandered the lands of the Eritopian galaxy till she died, some say of a broken heart. Dying is something that the Daughters aren’t meant to be able to do, but somehow—whether it was because she was out of the fold of their protection and magic, I don’t know—this one did. Hypocritically, the Daughters mourned her, and since then have even less love for our species than they do for the rest of the creatures in Eritopia.”
“Why on earth did we bring him along, then?” I burst out, directing my question at Draven. The Druid laughed out loud.
“It makes no difference,” he replied carelessly, “the Daughters will know already that Bijarki and I are working together. There is nothing, no secret or action, that can be hidden from them for long.”
I sighed, leaning back against the rock. I still didn’t think it was a good idea to have brought Bijarki along. It would hardly help our case, and his story made me even more wary of his species—though him specifically, and the designs he had on my friend. The incubus from the story had obviously somehow managed to trick the Daughter into believing that he loved her, otherwise who would face such a horrible fate? I wasn’t surprised that they hated the incubi.
I glanced over at Vita, who had managed to become even paler than before. She was staring at the ground as if deep in thought, and I wondered if she too was thinking about the dangerous nature of the species. I hoped she was. Bijarki couldn’t be trusted.
“I’m going for a walk,” I stated, getting up off the floor to stretch my legs. The heat was bad, but I’d go crazy sitting there all day. Vita and Aida both scrambled to their feet.
“We’ll come with you,” Aida said, looking relieved to get away.
“Don’t go far,” Draven warned. “We are in uncharted territory.”
I nodded dully, already feeling drowsy as the heat beat down on my scalp. Bijarki cast a look in Vita’s direction, as if angling for an invitation. I scowled at him, and he averted his eyes.
Don’t even think about it.
When would Bijarki get the hint that I’d rather pummel him to a bloody pulp than let him get anywhere near my friend? I’d give him some credit—he certainly had thick skin and persistence. But like the incubus in the story, I doubted that his ardor would last.
Serena
We’d walked around for a short while, looking at the nothingness of the dry and desolate land, none of us really speaking. I’d tried to get Vita and Aida to open up about what the shape-shifters had called out to them, but neither of them seemed willing to share. I understood that. I imagined that my particular fears were small fry compared to both girls’. I doubted any of us really knew the full extent of what they’d seen in their visions, how horrific it had been to be up close with the Destroyers or speaking to the Oracle.
What worried me most was that this would be the start of a separation between the three of us, a void in our friendships that wouldn’t ever fully recover. We’d always been so close, and had shared most things. Would that be lost now? Would the experience of Eritopia create an unfixable separation? I hoped not. The tough situations we were facing, at least in my mind, should have been bringing us closer together, not further apart. It was the same with my brother—he had always been a bit aloof, never letting me in on what he got up to in Hawaii, but other than that we’d been close. We’d shared a lot and helped one another as much as we could at home—small things, like homework, household chores, etc., but that stuff had mattered, and we had a sibling bond that was pretty solid by ordinary standards.
Once the novelty of walking had worn off, all three of us made our way back to the rock, desperate for more water. The sky had started to darken to the west, and I imagined it would be nightfall before long. I’d heard how cold deserts could get in the evening, and I wondered if this would be the case here.
When we returned, Draven had lit a fire—it seemed to appear from the core of the earth, as there were no branches or any kind of wood that could have created it. But the flame was strong, heat radiating off it, and smoke billowing up into the air.
“Is this the same flame that’s in the basement?” I asked curiously. It might have been nice to take a look at The Shade for a while. Even if it was painful, I’d have loved to see my parents’ faces just for a few moments, to reassure myself they were okay.
“No,” Draven replied. “It’s just a flame. Nothing can be seen. I’m sorry.”
He had guessed my intentions, and his gaze met mine with pity in his eyes. I shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter, and sat back against the rock.
Watching the fire, I started to grow drowsy. Draven had come to sit next to me, heat radiating off his body and warming me further. A breeze had picked up, and it lightly ruffled his hair, brushing it against his jawline. He seemed content to sit and watch the flames in silence, but when I looked down at his forearms I could see that his muscles seemed to be taut—as if he was coiled to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Perhaps not as relaxed as I’d assumed, then.
As my body yearned for sleep and I tried to fight it, I felt an urge to lean my head on his broad shoulders—to close my eyes and lie against him in comfort, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt. I pinched myself on the back of my hand, trying to stay awake. It would not be comfortable to lean against the Druid—it would be downright weird.
Without warning, the flame stuttered and went out.
“They’re coming,” Draven whispered, standing. The rest of us followed his lead,
all jolting out of our drowsy stillness. My heart began to race, half terrified at what was heading our way.
Draven reached down and gently squeezed my hand. I squeezed it back slightly, grateful for the gesture, then drew away. His face didn’t betray any reaction to me, he just stared ahead, waiting for the Daughters to arrive.
They came at once, seven women suddenly appearing out of thin air. I held my breath, stunned first and foremost at their awe-inspiring and yet violent beauty. Their skin looked like it was painted in gold, and they were dressed in linens, the material wrapped and draped like Grecian goddesses’. Their hair was long and wild, some of it braided in intricate fashions, entwined with gold beads and jewels. Around their ankles, necks and arms they wore more gold, chains and amulets, large stones held together with long ropes of gold chain that looked as if they were impossibly heavy. Their faces were entirely covered by golden masks, and only their eyes could be seen, peering out at us, each of them a startling, violet-purple color I’d never seen on any other being before, supernatural or otherwise.
One of them stepped forward, breaking the line. She had brilliant red and orange hair—the color of flames or a sunset. It trailed down her back, and as the breeze continued to move over us, her hair wrapped itself around her arms, giving the impression that it had a life of its own. These women didn’t look like supernatural creatures to me—they looked like goddesses, completely removed from the earth and anything concretely real.
“Druid, why have you disturbed us? We have helped you already, enough for many lifetimes. Do you think the Daughters of Eritopia are at your service?” Her voice was deep, resonating around us so that I could hear the hum of her voice in my veins long after she finished the last word.
I heard Draven exhale a low breath beside me, and then he bowed.
“Forgive us. We were sent by an Oracle. She told us to visit you. My home may no longer be safe, and the boy”—he gestured toward Phoenix—“has had a vision of the tree and the egg.”
“Are you sure?” the redhead asked. The rest of the Daughters didn’t move, but something had changed. There was now a perceptible tension in the air, as if the rest of them held their breath. This news obviously was important—but what was important to the Daughters about my Oracle brother having these visions, I didn’t understand… Wasn’t he supposed to only see the past, anyway? How could they find that so significant?
“I am sure,” Draven replied.
Simultaneously, all of them, in one motion, turned to face my brother. They stood in silence, watching him with their strange eyes. My brother swallowed, looking deeply uncomfortable.
After a while, the redhead turned back to Draven.
“The Oracle was wrong to send you here,” she said. “We can do nothing for you, and we will do nothing for you, until the last Daughter of Eritopia rises. She alone will help you end the reign of Azazel.”
“It will be too late!” Draven retorted angrily.
I drew in sharply, worried that he’d raised his voice—I doubted it would take much to rile these women up—but they started to laugh.
“Then you will have failed,” they replied in unison.
“But that is not our concern,” the redhead continued. “We have already done what you asked of us. And you were warned then not to return.”
“I have paid the price, and continue to pay the price for your help,” Draven countered, his tone becoming clipped and angry. “The last Daughter is safe and remains safe! So long as you help us!”
“But I wonder for how long she will remain undisturbed?” This time the voice didn’t come from the redhead, but from one of the other Daughters. Another stepped forward, moving toward Phoenix. She had black hair, almost reaching the floor. Small braids covered it from the center of her parting, each adorned with a thin chain and bright blue stones inlaid into the gold at various intervals.
My brother didn’t move, but the Daughter reached out her hand and ran one finger down his cheek. Phoenix gasped, clutching the skin where she’d just touched him as if in pain.
“If you’re going to remain unhelpful, then we will leave,” Draven growled. The black-haired Daughter turned to him. Immediately all the Daughters looked hostile. I shrank back, wishing that the Druid had been more polite, but at the same time I wondered if his outburst had been to distract the black-haired Daughter from my brother.
“You forget, Druid, there is still a price for calling on us,” the redhead replied, her voice tinged with amusement. My body felt cold all of a sudden. The request sounded like a threat. I had thought the price had already been paid with the Druid carving runes onto his body…would the Daughters now demand something of him too? I glanced over at Draven. The muscle in his jaw flickered, but he remained silent.
What price?
Serena
Despite Draven’s warnings, I wanted to say something to the Daughters, to know what price they felt he should pay. They had been next to useless—why would he have to give them anything?
“You have offered us nothing,” Draven spat, clearly unable to hold his tongue any more than I could.
“You knew there would be a cost,” the redhead replied. I felt Draven starting to tremble next to me. I knew it was through rage, not fear, and I worried about what he would do next. I didn’t want him to incur their wrath any further than we already had done, and mentally begged for him to stay silent.
Draven didn’t reply, and the Daughters stood there in silence, watching him. I glanced over at the others—none of them had taken their eyes off the Daughters, it was Bijarki alone who steadfastly looked at the floor. His fists were balled at his sides, his usually handsome face distorted by an expression of blind fury—or dread, I couldn’t tell which.
The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Were they deliberating the price? Using a form of telepathy to confer amongst themselves? Or was it the redhead who would make the decision? I started to think that perhaps the price wasn’t going to be too severe. Draven had mentioned the last Daughter he still guarded—well, looking after an object didn’t seem that high a price to pay, even if the Daughters had been useless. I tried to focus on relaxing my muscles, trying to breathe and calm myself before I snapped.
“Payment has been decided,” the redhead intoned, breaking the silence. I exhaled, relieved that the wait was over. “Considering that your actions were for a greater cause than your own selfish end, and for the good of Eritopia, we have decided to take a temporary gift—to be returned to you once we consider your debt to be repaid.”
I looked over at Draven in relief. Surely this was good news? But the Druid hadn’t moved, his steely gray eyes watching them carefully. He made no indication that he was relieved to hear about the temporary payment.
“Druid,” the redhead continued, “you rely so heavily on the visions of those with the sight, much like the Destroyers you profess to hate. Thus, we have decided that we will take your own vision. Perhaps afterward, you will learn to trust and value your own sense when it is returned to you. Let it be a lesson, and let our benevolence remind you of our greatness.”
What?
I didn’t have long to wonder. Draven cried out in unspeakable pain, falling to his knees, as the Daughters laughed. I crouched down next to him in a panic, not knowing what to do. The black shutters I had seen before when Field had tried to attack him came over his eyes. Then blood started to pour out of his sockets.
“STOP!” I screamed, ignoring the Druid’s earlier warning. How could they do this to him? When I looked back up, the Daughters had vanished completely. Draven’s cries stopped, and he collapsed further onto the floor, unconscious. The blood continued to seep out from behind the black veil over his sockets.
I ripped the hem of my dress, creating a bandage that I proceeded to wrap around his head. Bijarki helped me lift the back of his head up, and we tied it in a knot at his temple. Within moments, where the bandage covered his eyes, two crimson spots appeared and slowly spread outward.
“How do we stop the bleeding?” I asked the incubus.
He shook his head. “I think we have to wait till it’s over. Can you try to syphon some of the pain away? We need to wake him,” Bijarki replied.
Without bothering to reply, I pressed both my hands against Draven’s chest. I sent my energy outward, locating his pain and trying to suck it out. Luckily, because it pertained mostly to the head, his pain was easy to find, but it was like red-hot coals, and my own energy seemed to wither and recede when I tried to hold onto it. I kept trying, unwilling to give up.
“Phoenix, help me!” I cried, calling my brother over. He came quickly, slamming his knees into the earth next to me. His hands joined mine on the Druid’s chest, and soon I felt his energy, bright and golden, next to mine as we tried to remove some of the pain. With both our energies combined, it eventually started working. I could feel myself growing weaker as Draven’s own pain polluted my mind, sending a dull ache to my temples.
But it worked. Draven inhaled sharply, taking in a lungful of air. He fought to sit up, but Bijarki and Phoenix both held him down.
“No, don’t move,” Bijarki instructed him, “lie still for now. You’ll only make the pain worse.”
The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but it didn’t seem to mean much. The Druid would be blind—God knew for how long. Bijarki muttered profanities under his breath, cursing the Daughters relentlessly while the rest of us remained silent, too stunned to say a word. Draven’s breathing stopped sounding so labored, and he waved my brother and Bijarki away.
“Leave me,” he snarled. “I’m all right.”
“No, you’re not!” I exploded. “None of this is all right. We should never have come here. I’m so sorry.”
I wanted to scrape off my own skin, I felt so wretched. I had persuaded Draven to come here, kept at him, no matter how many times he and Bijarki had warned me of the danger.