The snow crunched under his feet, running shivers up and down his spine. He couldn't get used to the sound, nor the sensation. Each step felt like a gut-wrenching screech; like the chorus of the dead-to-be burned alive in an open field.
He had not dared to stop for the night, so darkness served as further cover 'neath the canopies of frozen trees that hummed as the wind passed through them. And the wind carried whispers, as though it had a voice of its own, a warning that it could give, or a gentle tune that would lull any foolish man to enter the darkest seas of the forest, where sirens of legends would call, await, and prey upon the sailors and travelers who answered the call.
Would you not want to accept an embrace? Would you not want to feel their soft caress? Would you not want to feel loved before the end comes for you? So what if you were to be eaten alive; so what if it would hurt. It is all part of love, is it not?
But Kanrel was no sailor or traveler who knew of such things. No lust nor love had he known. So why answer a call that would never satisfy? Perhaps to try something else; perhaps to try another sensation of fear and uncertainty. Perhaps all of this and much more, only because of a stumble and then the fall.
If only he felt the cold as well. His codes were far too effective at circulating the air around him, making it warmer and tolerable to living things. The little cold he felt was like the winds in late spring, not yet warmed by the sun's grace. Oh, how he missed the sun and its true colors.
Despite the call to stray further away from the road and deeper into the forest, he kept hugging where he was certain the road was. He couldn't see it; he couldn't really see anything at all, only the next few trees that he would pass, as the light he carried could part the darkness before him only so much. He feared that if he made it brighter, then the shadows would find him, they'd descend from the skies and force him deeper into the depths of the awaiting waves; the space beneath the canopies of the forest.
It had been so long since he had seen something worth seeing. There were no trails or signs down here; no left behind footwear or even prints of men. He had seen some made by animals which he could not name. He dared not follow them, for he feared that they'd leave him astray. All he did was fear.
When he could no longer go on, he came upon a formation of massive boulders half-buried beneath the snow. Among them he began clearing a space where he could sleep in peace.
Nearby he cut branches from a spruce and built a small lean-to against the rocks. By melting shallow holes into the stone, he fastened the frame of the shelter so that the branches formed a roof that would keep the snow away from him. The boulders and the lean-to together formed an enclosure, a wall that no one would easily pass through, or so he hoped.
Inside, he melted away the snow and dried the ground beneath it. Then he dragged in a section of a fallen tree, roughly half his height.
He split the log lengthwise and carved shallow troughs into the inner faces. Small pieces of wood were placed between the halves to hold them apart, leaving a narrow space between them. The log rested on four makeshift legs of flat stones he had shaped from rocks lying nearby.
In the trough, he placed dried moss and smaller pieces of leftover wood; he lit it with a gentle flame. He lay beside and watched the flames that slowly spread. His heavy eyes soon closed, and he fell asleep in a place he hoped he'd be safe in.
- - - - -
A woman stands by the temple threshold, her gaze set upon the rubble. Her dark hair was silky and smooth, her eyes of brown gentle, yet her brows furrowed with pain understood by only her and those like her.
"You killed me," she whispers, and her brows furrow further. "Or something like me…"
"Someone not quite me… I think… I think I was once someone…" her voice trails off, and her gaze yet lingers among the rubble. She seems suddenly distraught. "I can't remember…"
She turns around and faces me. Tears swell in her eyes. "There is someone whom I can't remember…"
"A he… I cannot remember him…" She runs her hands through her hair; they shake as she finally points at something… The rubble at the center of the ruined temple.
"Who was he?"
"Why can't I remember him?"
"Why can't I…" she whispers and meets my eyes. "Why can't I remember myself?" Her voice breaks, and I step back. I try to say something, but no words come out. I try to remember her, but I don't know who she was, or is. I only know the boy… he is… dead.
I step forth and reach for her, but my hand goes through her. I cannot touch her. She does not exist. I have the urge to take her somewhere, away from the temple and the village; toward the hills nearby… it is as though… she belongs there, with him.
My eyes burn as I try and I try, but I cannot touch her, I cannot say a word, she just stares at me, she shakes, and she crumbles before my eyes, becoming ash, just gray ash, and nothing more. My eyes burn, and soon I see nothing, not even her, not even the temple that was there… just the dark… There is just the dark here.
- - - - -
He awoke to a sharp breath; his eyes burst open, and he could see the light passing through the canopies. It was the morning, and what he had seen was just a dream and nothing else.
But it felt like more than a dream. He stayed down and peered at the sliver of the red sky that he could see. There was a nail stuck in his mind. A thought that he could not scathe or wrestle away. Though it felt that nowadays there seldom were thoughts that would just pass by, they all seemed to stay with him.
The boy… Where were his parents? Who were his parents? Were they… dead?
He swallowed as the nail bore itself deeper and deeper. He needed to get up, he needed to keep walking, and to make his way to Atarkan. But he could not move… he could not find the strength to get up; he couldn't even find the strength to move his hands. He could only move his head.
He looked toward his hands and his feet. Only to blink at the sight.
They were bound with rope. He blinked again, then another nail was struck into him; his mind woke up from his thoughts, from dreams that lingered, and he let his gaze wander around his surroundings… He was no longer in his makeshift shelter. Instead, he lay near a burning campfire, in the safety of a small ridge.
He almost went ahead and burned away his binds, but managed to ignore the possibility of such an action. There were humans around, and they had not killed him. They had bound him and moved him, but they had not blinded him. They did not know that he was a priest, not yet.
They could be watching him. He let his gaze study his surroundings further. There were footprints nearby, but he couldn't tell if they were made by the same person or by many more. Beside a tree, he noticed a familiar-looking pouch, which he assumed was his.
Kanrel swallowed. At least he could assume that the people – there must have been at least two, for how else were they able to move him without awakening him? – weren't thieves, at least not normal thieves… What if one or more of them were priests? Then, maybe, things could be explained much more easily.
Multiple different thoughts and emotions ran through him. There were so many things that could happen the moment his captors returned. He could find death or life anew; neither prospect allured or scared him much, as tears wanted to emerge from somewhere within. Whatever may happen next, he could accept. For as long as they were humans who had found and captured him, then he'd let it all happen.
He would give his life for a chance of seeing another human, not one that was dead and cold, but one that breathed and had a beating heart deep within their chest.
Kanrel's face quivered, and he tried to calm down as he almost prayed that his captors would return to him; that they would not leave him behind. Surely they would return. Surely, there still were humans alive and well, even in a world that had become like this.
The fire crackled, and Kanrel shivered beside it. He refused to use his magic for now, so as not to alert anyone who might return. For what if they were somewhere past his field of vision, awaiting and observing him, so as to determine his potential danger?
His captors could be cultists, and if they knew that he was a priest, then they might just kill him the moment they knew for certain where his supposed loyalties lay.
So he shivered as the fire crackled… and dwindled, and then extinguished.
A kindle of uncertain hope had turned dormant. Cold and lifeless, and instead, dread emerged, turning into despair as moments turned into hours. He still stared at the campfire, and nails kept boring into his mind. Doubt piled… He should've cut his ropes and run after the prints. He should not have waited for something that was uncertain and instead run after a certain hope.
Why had he done such a useless thing? It made no sense. Despite all that had gone wrong in the world and within him, had he truly remained such a worthless being? Why worry about all those useless things when this was the greatest fear that he could have ever had? He didn't even shiver anymore.
He gritted his teeth and forced a flame where there was nothing to sustain it naturally. The campfire now lit again, its fire scorching and hotter than ever. Warmth forced itself onto him as he stared into the flames. He sighed at last, pushing away any other thoughts that might emerge. He moved his gaze to his binds and burned them away, freeing his legs and his hands.
He ached all over as he fought against his body to sit up. He stretched his limbs and huddled closer to the fire. For a moment longer, he collected himself as well as the warmth that the flames could give him. Then he got up, went through his things, and found that everything was still there.
For a while, he studied the prints on the snow, found a pair that would serve as his lead, and followed them deeper into the forest, ignoring his original plans. He needed to find these two humans; whether they were cultists or not, it didn't matter.
The prints led him deeper through the spruce and pine. At times, they wandered, as though the makers had been uncertain of their path, or searching for something. Kanrel passed a frozen stream, its surface cracked and gray, and then a stand of birch trees whose white bark was made even paler by the snow and the frost. The tracks moved with purpose there, going around and staying together, then meandered again soon after. Hours passed, and the red sun crossed what sky he could see through the canopy. His legs yet burned, his hands trembled and ached from cold despite his codes, but he did not stop. His mind was solely focused on an image he kept conjuring within his starved mind: two humans, living and breathing, alive and real. But each time he lost sight of the prints for even a moment, fear trembled from somewhere within, taking hold of him, forcing an image of two pairs of boots and some clothes, lodged in the snow, abandoned by life. His pace would quicken, he'd pass a set of trees, or climb a small hill, only to see the prints again. Still leading him deeper into the woods, but not giving rest to his restless mind.
He reached another frozen stream; its surface, too, was cracked and gray… He looked around and tried to find things that were different or similar… ahead, there were more birch trees. It looked the same, it all did. Even the tall spruce he had just passed. Even the collection of snow-covered boulders, perhaps forty steps back, now partly veiled by the trees behind him.
He looked down, down at the prints, ahead and behind. Were there more now? Were these prints ever anyone else's but his?
Lost? Was he lost? Again. Always lost. Like the thoughts that kept on repeating in his mind, circling around itself, again and again. Like the world locked to its star, or the moon to its planet… No escape, no progress… Stuck in eternal orbit.
He swallowed and stepped over the frozen stream, his boots cracking the shallow ice further. If the prints ahead weren't just his, then whoever they belonged to might be as lost as he was… or just searching for something, or fleeing from something.
Why would they leave him behind? Why? Only one should've gone, and the other should've stayed behind with him. To make sure that Kanrel would not awake into a world which was suddenly lonelier than before.
He reached the birches and followed the steps that went around them. And when he reached the other side of them, he was gifted with a view he was certain that he had not seen before…
A sudden incline; a ridge covered with brave trees that dared stand tall along its steep slope. The prints snaked down it and disappeared into a stand of aspen. Their gray bark seemed almost silver against the canvas of white that spread around and on their branches.
Where were the prints heading? Why so deep into somewhere where no one lived?
Kanrel took support from the smaller aspen trees as he descended down the ridge. He made sure to follow the prints and kept ignoring the pain that pulsed through his legs. As he reached the thicket of aspen, he could see how the prints snaked deeper into the woods, but then, suddenly, diverged into two. Why? Had they seen something?
He stood at the intersection and stared farther ahead. He tried to see whether the prints would again intersect and walk together… but it didn't seem like it. He stepped ahead and leaned against a tree, still looking ahead.
Why did the world want to give him such a choice to make? He wanted to scream at the heavens, knowing all too well that somewhere, there in this world that he was forced to live in, lived godlike beings, Angels, who he might as well blame for even this. Left or right, or in between? Or perhaps… turn around and return to the road?
His mind felt aflame, and he brought his hands to his face; he felt his coarse beard and soon his dirty, slightly wet hair, which he ran his fingers through. He looked to the right, then the left, but as he was turning his head ahead once more, to take a step and walk between the two pairs of prints, his gaze found movement. A figure walking in the dark of the forest. No. Not a figure, but two, flashed between the trees that they passed, far enough that they might never see Kanrel if he were to just stand still. They carried something… a deer…
Every thought that he could've had vanished as he took a mindless step forward, then another, only to start sprinting toward them, past trees that stood in his way, not caring about what there might be below his feet. He kept stumbling, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered other than what he had now seen. In this world that had turned so dark, the two human figures were the brightest star.
But… a nail bored itself deep into his mind, and he slowed down. He had not been spotted, not quite yet. The deer. For a while, he saw only the deer, and from it an image emerged, a memory too painful to forget. Again, he was that foolish young man from years ago, waiting in ambush for two hunters to arrive. Two humans that he would end up killing. He smelled burning, for hadn't he just burned one of their compatriots alive? His pace turned to a crawl as he crept toward them.
What if he had to kill them… What if he had to kill again?
The two from back then… what had they carried other than the deer? They had weapons, right? Bows… arrows… their faces, what did they look like? What were their names, again? But these two, they're innocent, are they not? They seem innocent enough… But so had they, when he had conversed and dined with them; they, too, had seemed so innocent…
He stood behind a pair of trees and stared at them. They were just twenty or so feet away from him. He was close enough that he could hear their soft steps on the snow. He could hear the sounds of the conversation, but not the contents. One of them was a woman, maybe in her twenties? Kanrel couldn't tell. He couldn't conjure any images of people within his mind. In the past decade, Atheians were more familiar to him. He could guess their ages and their genders, even when they all looked almost alike.
But humans… he hadn't seen anyone else except himself for so long. They stepped directly into his view… If one of them looked right at this very moment, then they could see him. But neither of them did; they drudged toward the ridge, their shoulders bent under shared weight slung between them. A deer, its legs tied to a long branch. Both of them had hunting bows with them, as well as knives. They were armed and could kill him if they wanted to. If he approached them, if he were to be seen by them, they could kill him, and he would have to then kill them…
He stepped forward. He didn't mean to, or at least he didn't think that he meant to. He took another, careful step. If they looked behind, they would see him. And it didn't matter. He decided. No matter what happens, he won't kill them. It didn't matter if they did. He would let them kill him. His life was theirs.
"Wait!" he called out. It came out as a growl; he sounded barely human, it felt muffled, but it sounded so loud to his own ears.
The hunters turned around, the deer suddenly met the ground, and the pair stood with their bows drawn and pointed at him. They looked at him, and he looked at them. In this moment, he was much like the deer.
"Please." His voice cracked. He tried again. "Please don't leave me again." The hunters still stared at him, but their bows went down. "I'm alone," Kanrel said and stepped forward. He raised his hands, palms out. "I'm… I need…"
"Stop," the man called out. His voice was harsh and authoritative. "Why are you here?"
"I'm… I'm looking for you," Kanrel managed to say. "I was following you, from where you left me." His brows quivered. "Why did you leave me alone?"
The man looked at him, up and down, then sighed. "It's you… How did you remove the rope?"
Kanrel swallowed a lie and instead told the truth, "I'm a priest… or I was a priest, before."
The man glanced at the woman. They shared a look, and the man nodded. The woman suddenly stepped toward him. Kanrel stumbled back a step. "Stay still," the man warned him, so he did.
The woman took something from her satchel. A piece of black cloth. "I will have to blind you, understand?" she said while walking toward him. "We won't harm you, we just want to be safe while we question you," she explained.
Kanrel nodded as he tried not to cry. He could see the woman clearly now. Her eyes were pale-blue, her nose was pointy, and her cheeks were red because of the cold. She wore warm, padded clothes, much like the other hunter, and the gaze in her eyes was alert. Kanrel didn't want to scare her; he didn't want to kill her, or anything like that, so he fought against an urge to reach toward her, to feel her warmth. He closed his eyes so that she wouldn't have to be so alert with him. And when she reached him, he could feel her warmth. He felt how she carefully placed the cloth over his eyes and tied it at the back of his head. The memory of her touch lingered a moment. Then he heard a sudden sob… It escaped him; it wasn't quiet, it was clear and certainly heard by the two hunters. His whole body shook as he fought against the tears. "I'm so sorry," he kept repeating, over and over again.
Suddenly, he felt a pat on his back. A gentle touch. "You're safe now," he heard the woman whisper.
The man stepped closer. "At which village were you stationed, priest?"
Kanrel swallowed another sob and tried to answer as evenly as he could, "Jersten."
He heard a scoff. "Jersten… A week or so ago, we came across a priest from Jersten… She did not mention that there was another priest…"
"Roslyn? Was her name Roslyn?" Kanrel blurted out a question.
"Indeed… Were you in Aucklyn during the attack?"
Kanrel shook his head. "I only saw the aftermath…"
"What did you see, exactly?"
"There were scattered boots and clothes everywhere, half of the village was burned down, and even the temple was destroyed… In the temple, there was the body of a child… I carried him outside, then buried him."
"And did you see any… shadows?"
"Yes, I did."
"And did the shadows attack you?"
"Yes."
"And how did you survive?"
He didn't answer for a moment. And after a while, he chose to lie, "I ran, sir."
"You… ran?"
"Yes, sir."
"What is your name, priest?"
"Kanrel," he replied, plain and simple.
"No family name?"
Kanrel shook his head. He didn't know how to explain how the son of the Herald had gone missing and suddenly emerged at the same time Jersten and Aucklyn were abandoned. How could he explain such a thing?
The man sighed. "I see… Corporal, remove the blind."
"Yes, sir." The woman did as she was told, and again, Kanrel could see the trees, the man, and the deer, though now the world felt much brighter than before.
The man stared at him. He had brown eyes and a crooked nose; he had a thin, black mustache, but no beard. He didn't seem young, but he looked younger than Kanrel looked now. The man extended his arm toward him. "Pleasure to meet you, Priest Kanrel. I am Sergeant Torin Veld of the Ranger Corps; we were sent from Atarkan a week after the emergence of the black clouds. On the way to Aucklyn, we came across refugees from Aucklyn and Jersten led by the priest Roslyn."
Kanrel looked at it. It was calloused, and there was dirt under his nails. He had removed his glove just to shake hands with him. He grabbed it, and they shook hands. The hand was warm against the coldness of his own. This warmth, too, lingered after their hands departed.
Then, Torin gestured toward the woman, who had already packed the black cloth back into her satchel and returned to the deer. "And this is Corporal Mirai Vareth."
Mirai looked at them and nodded at Kanrel, who nodded back.
Torin stepped toward the deer as well, then came to a stop. "Oh, there's one more thing that I'll need you to do…" he said and looked at Kanrel again.
"Anything."
"Showcase that you actually are a priest." There was no warmth in his voice, and Kanrel suddenly felt so cold. He didn't want to use his magic. At least not for himself. But perhaps… for the sake of these two, he might as well.
He slowly nodded and formed a quick code to spark a flame in the air, right above them.
Torin nodded. "Good." He turned around and went to the deer, then, together with Mirai, they lifted the deer onto their shoulders. He didn't look back as he called. "Let's go!"
"Wait!" Kanrel called after them. The two rangers stopped and peered at him.
"Let me… Let me take care of everything… You two can rest," Kanrel demanded and began forming multiple codes at the same time.
"No, no–" Torin began, but suddenly, he felt how the deer, along with the branch it was tied to, lifted into the air. Torin and Mirai could see how a gentle light formed ahead of them, as well as the sudden warmth brought by a wind that wasn't supposed to be there.
They stared at Kanrel for a long while. "You… How?" Torin muttered and shared a glance with Mirai, but Kanrel already stepped past them, levitating the deer beside him.
Kanrel didn't look back as he said, "It is all I can do to help." His tone was apologetic. And certainly the two rangers could hear it in his voice. They stared after him, holding baffled expressions. Then Mirai found her wits and ran after him.
Torin was left behind, his brows now furrowed. After a long journey back, there was an even longer conversation ahead of them.