Page 143 of Where Darkness Falls

Oberon.

I liked this much more when I didn’t know their names.

“As for the matter of your blood, it sings to all of us that seek answers. If you don’t know the response to which you ask, then such knowledge isn’t meant for you… yet,” Darach says cryptically.

Laisren morphs back into his Galrosan form. “What knowledge?” he inquires.

Darach ignores him, reaching for the ax across his back. My shadows curl around my fingers. “Not. Another. Step,” I warn. “Using that weapon now will be your doom.”

However, Darach does something that I least expect. Kneeling before Maeva, he lays the weapon at her feet. Baffled, Maeva’s eyes flutteras she examines the ax’s fine craftsmanship. “I-I don’t understand,” she whispers.

“You’re the beacon in the mist, milady. My weapon is yours to command if you’re ever in need of my clan’s aid,” he says reverently.

She crouches before Darach. “Please, don’t kneel before me,” she says. “I’m not worthy of such reverence.”

The large brute snorts. “You have my allegiance and more,” Darach replies.

Maeva sighs, tilting her head. “What did you see when my ability enveloped you?” she asks. “I wasn’t quite myself in that moment, so I don’t remember much of the interaction.”

Darach smiles, taking her hand. “The truth of who you are and what you’ve repressed,” he answers. Then he helps Maeva to stand on her feet.

“Who-Who am I?” she asks.

The sound of snapping branches comes from the darkness of the woodland. Darach’s left ear twitches as he turns his head toward the looming trees. We pause for a moment, listening. Though I survey the gloom, there’s nothing to be seen beyond the gnarled branches and roots.

I sigh.

Perhaps it’s just a brittle tree breaking into pieces…

That’s better than the alternative of something, or someone, lurking beyond in the shadows.

“I don’t remember anything of my former life,” Maeva finally continues. The Minotaur leader shifts uneasily before her. “Please, Darach,” she pleads. “If you know anything that will assist me, I need you to tell me.” Darach looks up in silent supplication. “Who am I?” Maeva asks once more. The yearning in her voice softens the contemplative Minotaur.

He sighs, patting her hand once. “You’re?—”

His speech is cut off as three red and black arrows lodge in his jugular.

Maeva’s pendant illuminates immediately. “No!” she screams.

Darach gurgles in pain, the arrow heads protruding through the thick flesh as blood spurts from the wound. My face leeches of color as I examine the arrows. Their design easily gives away that it’s Galrosan; however, it’s their shades that reveal what they are: forbidden blood-poisoning arrows.

I recognize them from the stories in our Galrosan history. They were outlawed in Zulgalros centuries ago for their unethical conception. In order to create the blood-poisoning properties, one makes a bargain with the Basilisk in exchange for its venom.

“It’s Galrosan?” Laisren says, stunned.

I kneel before the fallen creature. “Yes,” I reply tersely. Maeva attempts to break the shafts of the arrows. However, they disappear like vapors, leaving gaping holes in Darach’s neck. Darach coughs and gurgles as his body fights against the effects of the poison, but with every passing moment, the life within the giant beast slowly fades.

“No,” Maeva whispers.

“I’m sorry, Rosey,” I say. “There’s nothing we can do for him.”

Maeva shakes her head rapidly. “Perhaps you can’t,” she growls, “but I can.”

Then, Maeva shoves her hands into the gaping wounds, allowing her ability to stitch his flesh back together, as a tendril pulls the poison from his body. The dark black liquid separates itself from the Minotaur as it rises. Maeva casts the foul bane aside as she continues to mend him. Darach winces, closing his eyes, as the starlight weaves in and out of his body. “Not much longer,” Maeva promises. She channels the starlight rapidly, but Darach falls unconscious as the last stitch is made.

Maeva’s starlight coils back within her, and she sways slightly at the strain of using her ability. I wrap my arms around her as her head leans against me. “Did it work?” she asks weakly.

I watch Darach’s chest for several moments as it slowly rises and falls. “He’s alive, but he’ll need several days to heal completely from the poison,” I reply. “You did well, Rosey.”