Page 9

Story: A Soul to Revive

“Unless we have an army to fight against Jabez’s, nothing you do will make a difference. You will not win. You will only die, and I cannot bear to see another one of my children perish!”

His head tilted at just one word of her entire rambling spiel. His skull made a rattling sound, as though it was empty of a brain and instead filled with bones.

He was aware there were many blank spaces within his thoughts, and that he was not wise nor knowledgeable. He could only retain so much information, and he could then only decipher so much of it as well.

A lot of what was said to him fell on uncomprehending ears.

“An army?”He paused so he could tap an index claw against his bone-white raven beak.“An army to fight an army?”

That made sense to him.

The biggest issue with getting to Jabez was the number of shadowy beasts in the way. He was sure, if it were just him and the Demon King, he would be able to remove his head.

Ingram only struggled with a fight when there were many foes, but he’d always won any that were more evenly matched.

The Witch Owl tilted her head, but it was her unsure expression that grabbed his attention. Why did she look so worried?

“What are you thinking?” Her tone sounded like a warning, one full of suspicion.

“You said I needed an army.”

“I said an army would be needed, but there is no army that would fight alongside us.”

“This is not true. There are others who want the Demons gone just as much as me.”

She was right. Ingram needed numbers if he wanted to get to the Demon King.

He turned away from the Veil completely, fickle with his decisions in his agitated state. He could scale the cliff wall with his claws, so he didn’t try to find an easier path to the surface world.

The Witch Owl grabbed his tail to yank him back with all her might, letting out a tooth-gritting yell as she did. “No! If you seek to ask the humans, you will not find any friends there.”

He flicked his tail to the side, ridding himself of her, and he began to climb.

The only thing that was keeping the loss at bay was his determination for vengeance. He would find an army, otherwise he feared he would quickly succumb to the nagging anguish that was festering within his chest, right below the surface of his flesh.

Had she not removed his head to bring him to the safety ofMerikh’s ward, resetting his thoughts, Ingram may never have gained consciousness throughout his agony-filled rampage.

“Ingram, please! Stop!”

His sight shifted to a hopeless blue.

Aleron...

Staring up at the rocky ceiling of her tiny bedroom, Emerie noted the patterned lines of where the person wielding a pickaxe had carved out her room generations ago. Her nose twitched in irritation at the poorly done job.

With her head bobbing against her scratchy, hard, and uncomfortable bed, it was an odd detail to note... considering the action she was in the middle of.

I wonder what they’ll be serving for dinner tonight.

The food here at this impenetrable fortress was pretty bland, but at least it was hearty. She needed something right now to make her full, since she felt rather empty.

Something warm and wet slid over the arch of her neck, and she twisted her head to offer more surface to play with. Once she patted his head in reassurance, she resumed her thinking.

I’m glad I’m not part of the watch tonight.

Her gaze roamed over to the two dim candles sitting on her oak bedside table. They were just enough to illuminate the scarcely furnished room. A brown scratchy blanket lay beneath her on a bed made of hay, a layer of wool added for warmth and ‘comfort.’ A chest at the end of her bed stored her few personal items, and a plain wardrobe to her right held her clothing.

The only other piece of furniture was a small writing desk that had just enough room to fit her elbows on it, with a piece of parchment between them.

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