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He’s looking out toward the horizon at Camp Shadows.
I can see the plans forming in his head. He’s a warrior, after all. Right now, he’s a strategist, planning how to win a battle.
When I reach into the makeshift pocket in the folds of my dress, I find the piece of coal that I always keep with me.
It makes writing down my thoughts so much easier.
It will make my plan so much easier.
“Thank you for saving me,” I said, eventually. When Varzig looked down at me, he smiled.
An invisible hand clenches around my heart, and I almost gasp out loud. Breathing has become, suddenly, so difficult.
His eyes crinkle up at the corners … a detail about him that I have only just noticed.
“I’m sorry for leaving you,” he replied. His expression changes, and I watch closely as the shape of his face changes with his emotion. “I thought it was the best thing to do. If you weren’t associated with me any longer.”
The knot in my chest that formed the minute he left eases slightly.
“Thank you for coming back. What are your next plans?” I asked him.
“I need to get you far away from here and then find a way to save your village. I know you want your parents to be safe.”
I swallow before smiling.
“But this is not going to go away,” I speak more loudly, more harshly than I intend. I force my voice to soften. “Chaos and violence will follow me as long as I’m tied to the book. And that means I’m endangering everyone around me.”
“Don’t worry about that right now.” He said roughly before pulling me into another hug.
Then he pulled away from me and turned to look at the village. He was frowning, and I knew that a strategy was coming into place.
“I’m just waiting for more demons to come through a portal.” He called back to me as I opened the tome.
“Thank you for telling me. I hope they arrive soon.” I said and used the piece of sharpened coal to start writing in the book.
I’m writing a new story.Not a story about a knight arriving to save a village. Not a story about a rodent and a piece of cheese. Not a story about a handsome demon warrior carrying me away.
Instead, I write a story about myself. A story where the Tome of Ledantis is severed from me upon my death.
My chest starts closing up the minute I close the book. A heavy dullness spreads through my body.
Every limb of my body becomes heavy, and I start coughing violently. The book has fallen from my hand.
I know the story will disappear soon as Varzig turns to me. He darts swiftly toward me but is not quick enough to catch me as I fall.
“What is it? Are you ill? Did the dark elf do something to you?” He asked. I can feel his fear as though it’s my own.
I shake my head.
“As long as I’m alive, the book will remain connected to me. I won’t be able to live in peace, and everyone around me will be in danger.” I whispered.
My head has gone cloudy, and my eyes are thick.
What happens after death?I think to myself.Where do I go on to?
“So you’re sacrificing yourself for a book?” He asked me frantically.
“This book has started a war. A war on a village of innocent human beings.” I cannot hold my head up on my own anymore.
