Chapter 26

A slight breeze blew through the town of Thesper, picking up speed as it dove unnaturally around the alley-corners, twisting and turning as it went. Ruffling the hair of the people who had begun to tentatively emerge from their shelters, snatching reluctant leaves off the spreading branches of the trees, carrying them along with it as it went.

It hesitated, sniffing the air in search of something, then continued on its way, leaping through bodies and weaving through open windows, faster and faster and faster and faster until it froze…

Waiting. It turned sharply, then shot off in the opposite direction, something inside of it drawing it forward. It snuck around the corner of a brick building, shooting across the smooth stones of the plaza, until it found what it was looking for.

A small pile of ash, laying inconspicuously against the wall in the back of the square. To anyone- or anything- else, it would have been invisible, but this being latched onto its presence. Tentatively it approached, freezing before the remains, before it lifted them up in its soft tendrils and examined them, cradling them close to its ethereal body.

A soft keening sound escaped its nonexistent mouth as time seemed to

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for a minute, before returning to its normal speed with a clash, pieces of the world shattering and falling around this creature as it reeled.

With trembling hands, it stood, piles of ash clenched in both of its lucid fists. It then fled, leaping into the air in a single bound, soaring over the town beneath it without a second thought, the dusty remains billowing behind it in a strange parade.

The forest approached beneath them, and the creature let itself fall from the sky, landing on the mossy floor without so much as an audible thump before dissolving into pure mist.

The ash trickled down, caught in the web of time, but before they could reach the ground, they froze. They began to swirl around and coalesce into a thick cloud, growing more and more dense before their shape began to change, lengthening and stretching as the cloud sent out tendrils. The offshoots began to morph into something oddly resembling human limbs, fingers and toes sprouting from the form. They flexed, testing out their strength, as the unmistakable shape of a human body emerged, landing on the forest floor on its knees, panting heavily.

The remaining ashes that covered the person melted away, piling on the plants gently with a small hissing noise, revealing the face of Alastair O’Leary.

It was almost the same O’Leary from before, but not quite. This O’Leary was more feral; more dangerous. His eyes were no longer darkly human; rather, they were completely purple, the same light that had taken over his body earlier filling every inch of his eye sockets. There were no tangible eyes anymore, only the light that consumed him.

The same light flowed out from every part of his body, writhing underneath his pale skin in dark shadows that squirmed from one limb to the next in a continuous motion, never ceasing. O’Leary raised a single hand to his face, silently examining the shapes that moved beneath his flesh, spelling out strange runes as it did so.

He made a fist, his bones creaking and bowing beneath his strength, which suddenly felt tenfold anything than it ever had been before. He felt like he could grab the world in his hand and crush it, feeling the life seep out of the people underneath his fingers. He wished he could do the same to that boy…

He cursed himself for letting the boy get the best of him, slamming his fist down onto the forest floor suddenly as the memories came rushing back to him. The fight… he had had the boy underneath his fingertips. He could feel the bones in the boy’s neck contracting in his hands as he squeezed, could feel his trachea collapsing in on itself as he struggled- but he could also feel the same strange hesitation he had felt when he had looked into the boy’s eyes, and found them filled with fear and premature mourning. Yet the boy had barely fought, as if he had already accepted his demise. That was what broke O’Leary. He could take all the lives he wanted, but when it came to the one that mattered, he had second-guessed himself. And that ruined everything.

He looked down at himself and found that he was clothed in luxury robes with fur trim lining the edges, the same shade of purple as his flames had been. He smiled, running a hand down the velvet cloak, but the smile faded as he processed what had just happened. He had… died, had he not?

He was one of the best spellcasters there was, and even the most inexperienced of those knew one of the impossible rules of magic- you couldn’t bring people back from the dead.

Questioning everything he knew, his mind reeled. How… How was he still here?

His plea was answered by a strong voice that filled the clearing, bouncing off the trees and seeming like it came from nowhere, but everywhere at once.

“Alastair…”

He froze as glimpses of a dark-robed figure flashed through his mind, paralyzing him. He was wrong. The voice couldn’t be the voice he thought it was. He hadn’t heard that voice in twenty years…

“Alastair…”

Shaken for what seemed like the first time in forever, he managed to pull himself to his feet. He spun in a slow circle, trying to figure out who was playing such a cruel joke on him. Deep down inside, however, he knew it was no joke. Somehow, some way, she had returned.

“Alastair…”

He fell back to his knees as the cloaked figure took over the inside of his mind. He could see her unmistakable curves underneath her clothes, but as she turned to face him, her hood peeled down from her head in slow motion.

He recoiled, his heart racing as he was left staring into the deep, hollow sockets and gaunt, wizened face of the woman he had once loved.