Shades of the past cling to your heels
Spiteful phantoms whispering half-dreamed words
Weakness gleefully offered
Desperate to poison you with doubt. To give you an excuse.
Give them no mind.
The future yields only to those who stride forward into it.
Strike the horizon.
Book of Mortis, 5:8
Two days.
Zelith laid on her back, staring up at the cobwebs in her room below the temple of Sizaan, Titan of the Lost. Most of the room was taken up by a broken statue of Sizaan themself, a ghoulish face of pulled back flesh obscured by a patchwork cloak. Zelith had hung most of her drying clothing on the face of the Titan to spare herself looking at it. The rest of the room was narrow, barely three feet across with a hammock taking up much of the room. Above her, shelves she’d wedged into the space held books and other knick-nacks she’d taken over the years, carefully placed to avoid the rare prying eyes of the other attendants.
A small stone was thrown up, Zelith impassively catching it as it dropped back down to palm.
Two days, with as many words from the Sunvaar. The old man had never been one of many words, just grumbling that Grey was busy looking into a lead. Kevyn hadn’t been much more help, the golden haired man plastered by the docks. Conall had said Grey was looking into witchbloods but that he hadn’t seen her.
I suppose they didn’t need any more help, Zelith mused to herself, throwing the stone back up into the air. Job’s done. I paid them off. Back to what I was doing before.
Up, down. The arc was the same, over and over, as Zelith’s gaze settled on her collection of items, the results of countless minor crimes and nights trying to get something back from the temple.
Up. Down. The cobweb in the corner drifted in a light breeze.
You knew this was coming. Temporary. Just some fun while she was working. That’s enough. That has to be enough.
The witchblood’s jaw set in a firm line.
Back to what I was doing before.
As the stone fell into her palm, the smooth rock slipping into her fingers, she could feel the coolness of the small object pass over the bottom of one of the claw scars on her arm, a small raised bump of skin.
The tears were immediate, her breath catching in her throat, her windpipe betraying her as an ugly sob escaped her mouth before she was even aware of what was happening. Her eyes were hot, her vision blurring as trails of moisture quickly engulfed her face. Fingers shaking, she dropped the stone, desperately moving her hands to her face, like she could somehow hold the breaking dam back.
Selfish. Selfish, stupid girl. You already got so much. And that’s not enough? You can’t just have fun, you can’t just have memories, you need…what? What do you even want?
As Zelith squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to sit up, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Everything was cold, the sobs continuing to come, before a knock came at the door.
“…Lily,” Conall said through the door, opening it a crack. “How…are you?”
Zelith looked over, shaking her head as she let out another sob.
“…Dumb brain. Decided to get sad over something I can’t control,” she said weakly.
Conall carefully stepped closer, sitting down on the bed and looking at his oldest friend, putting an arm around her shoulder.
“What is it?”
Zelith leaned into his shoulder, trying to stop the sobs still.
“…Grey. Everything. They’re gone. She’s off on some lead, and then…they’re gone,” she said weakly.
The redhead frowned at that, squeezing Zelith closer as she sniffled.
“…Have you told her? About this,” Conall said, gesturing. “The…emotions.”
“I can’t do that,” Zelith responded. “That’s not…what we are. What that was. I can’t just…I can’t do that. We both got what we expected, and now it’s ov…ove-”
Another wave of tears hit her, her mouth shaking so much she couldn’t keep talking as Conall tried to help her quiet down.
“…Tell me what you’re feeling right now, Lily. Think about Grey, before all this about leaving. What do you actually feel?”
Zelith shivered, struggling until she regained her voice.
“It’s like…gravity. I’m pulled towards her, I…I want to be where she is. Things make sense when I’m with her. It’s…even when I can’t see her, I can hear that smile in her voice and something just…it’s right.”
Zelith let out a long breath, a few quiet streaks of tears coming down, her voice coming back stronger.
“I don’t know what I want. Not…all. But I want to be the reason for that smile. Even just once more. That’d be enough for me.”
Conall was quiet for a long moment, picking up the stone that had fallen on the bed and tossing it up himself, looking over at Zelith.
“Then go to her. Tell her.”
Zelith shook her head, starting to pace.
“I don’t know where she is. I don’t know where she was looking for leads, I’m not a hunter like she is. We only had a week already, she’s…”
Conall tossed the stone again, giving Zelith a smile.
“Lily, you teleported us across most of the district over and over again after Grey whispered into your ear once. You’re the best damn mage I’ve ever met, and you say you can feel a pull. Gravity, right?”
He grabbed the stone as it fell, twirling it in his palm.
“Follow the pull. You’ll find her.”
Zelith looked at her friend, eventually rushing over to give him another hug as she felt a strange calm fall over her.
“Thank you, Conall,” she said. “For everything.”
Conall nodded, hugging her back for a moment before they split, Conall standing up as Zelith’s brow furrowed. That pull at her heart was there, that terrible line in space dragging her mind elsewhere.
Stars were drawn, flaring into life, as Zelith Vachon vanished.
The smell that hit was immediate, the overwhelming stench of rot and sewage flooding Zelith’s nostrils as she found herself stumbling in darkness, coughing as she looked around. Thin strands of light came down from above, but only enough to barely light up the tunnel she found herself in.
“Grey?” she called out, wheezing a bit and wiping tears from her eyes as she looked frantically around. “Grey!”
For a moment, there was nothing. Then, down the hallway, a familiar blue glow, a pair of wolflike eyes floating in the darkness. Zelith felt a surge of relief for a moment, before a low growl filled the space, the eyes getting closer as a set of faintly glowing jaws became visible. As more blue lights flared, Zelith took a step back, dread filling her mind as a large wolf, nearly the size of a bear, stepped another foot closer, grey fur covered in sewage and filth, glaring with eyes that didn’t recognize Zelith.
Zelith stood, illuminated for a moment from above, as the thin light of the full moon above Stinjul drifted through the sewer grates. She began to run, her scream drowned out by the echoing howl of The Grey Storm.
Strike The Horizon 