Page 54 of Fallen: Darkness Ascending, Vol.1

Act III

O ros had never flown so far from his tribe. In a ragged, unfamiliar chain of rust-colored mountains, he found shelter from harsh heat, burning light, and moisture-leeching air.

Shelter for all three.

“You need water,” he rasped.

“Don’t leave!” She clung to him. “No!”

Her cheeks were damp from weeping. The hard clenching of her belly grew stronger and closer together.

The baby is coming.

Knowing better what she was, able to taste her aura beyond intimacy, Oros was surprised the birthing seemed to hurt so much. She wasn’t faking; the pain was real.

But she’s a creator.

Undying and godlike.

The Wilder’s head swirled, his memories of what happened like fevered madness. Had he just encountered the rulers of the Red Desert? Was it true that the demonic and infernal had their hooks deep in the royal sisters?

Had Pennilil made the Zauyrian General what he was when Druid ancestors came to the Red Desert? Was she why the Godblood never aged and kept having children with his Queen? Why the Wilder even existed?

And what… What was that thing wearing an Elf’s skin?

Oros kneeled on the ground, wrapping his arms around the laboring mother.

“The baby is not ours,” he murmured without rancor.

Her arms tightened as she drew a big lungful of air.

“The sire isn’t one of us,” the Wilder continued, kissing her brow. “You already carried her when we met you. You’re fleeing someone. Why you never spoke about it.”

The pale blonde’s cheek rested on his chest, her fingers stroking the black feathers on his back. He couldn’t seem to pull the wings in as easily as he could while shifting from a bird; he left them there, using them to block the setting sun reaching into the cave.

She did not speak while straining through further contractions. Licking her lips, wetting her throat, her next words came out just above a whisper.

“Will you take her…?”

“Take her? Where?”

She considered without opening those unsettling, blank eyes. “To my ancestors?”

He gaped. “ Yours? ”

She smiled slightly. “There aren’t many left in the sacred forest. But they would welcome you.” She winced, her belly flexing, the sweat upon her skin drying to salt. “Th-they can protect you from him.”

“From who?” He paused. “The sire? He’s dangerous?” Oros couldn’t read the nuance of her face but was sure he was. “I can’t.”

His response caught her by surprise. Her heart looked broken.

“Penni,” he said gently. “I’m not stupid about provoking predators, nor am I besotted with you like at the start. Let’s bring out the baby first. Then we can talk.”

Her unfamiliar eyes and vast gaze fixed upon the horizon. “If he finds us, Oros, there won’t be time to talk. Will you take her somewhere safe or not?”

“I can’t feed her. I don’t know where your ancestors are. You do. Why wouldn’t you take her yourself, to know she’s safe?”

The immortal hid her response within another contraction, but in time, Oros did receive an answer.

“I’ll not lead him to them,” she said, grunting in discomfort. “Better that I lead him away and erase your path.”

Something felt unspoken. Many things, in fact.

Her fingers dug into his arms, hips shifting and legs drenched as her water spilled out of her.

She’d long ago shed the troublesome dress and got into a crouch facing him.

Nude with arms clamped together, she coaxed their auras to mix, alleviating some of the intensity and masking their light from prying eyes.

“Last push,” she whimpered, bearing down. “C-catch her.”

A challenging task when she had a death grip on his shoulders, but Oros did his best. With the head crowning, he worked to free the ears and shoulders before they could catch, then eased loose the first arm, ready when the rest of the tiny body slipped with a rush into his hands.

“Gods!”

Pennilil collapsed, falling backward, gasping for breath as Oros kneeled, holding a squirming, slippery baby. She was pale like her mother with tiny, pointed ears and a thatch of scarlet hair smeared to her head.

Oros scooped the goop from her mouth with his little finger so that she might cry. He rubbed her, squeezed and massaged her limbs, giving her a gentle bounce.

“Come on, little one,” he muttered, squeezing her cheeks. “Say something.”

The infant protested at last, granting him a soft wail and irritable gurgle. Good enough.

“There we are,” he breathed, placing her against his chest, patting her back.

Pennilil watched him from the ground, exhausted but smiling. Her eyelids drooped. “Oros. You will watch over her, until we decide?”

He swallowed. “I cannot lead danger back to my tribe, but I also can’t leave them for a forest without seeing them again. They must know I’m alright.”

“Of course,” she whispered.

She stopped talking, falling still as the sun finally set over the Desert. With the umbilical cord still attached, Oros brought her daughter close to her breast, lying next to and helping the little one to feed.

Quite hungry and full of thirst, the Wilder nodded off despite this, his body taking rest over anything else.

We need help , he thought. I don’t know what to do.

Traveling in the blue sands of night, Oros spent his dreams searching for the Desert Dragon. Up until now, that had seemed foolish. Perhaps it still was.

The wild guardian crested many dunes, murmuring his tribal song as he walked. Eventually, from atop one of the highest waves of sand, he witnessed the great dunes come to an end. They disappeared underneath a gigantic body of water illuminated by the giant moons above.

Oros froze in place. A coastline? Here?

Yet much closer, so close that he had looked past it, stood a spire of rough, red stone rising tall above a narrow valley.

Like in the stories.

“Desert Flame? Are you here?” He paused. “Will you meet with the lost?”

An underground tremor served as a response, a rumble which passed through stone after stone within the valley, climbing up the slopes toward him.

Oros was terrified. “My apologies! I-I will leave and never intrude again!”

One massive, metallic gold eye opened from within an outcropping to his left, seeming to belong to a giant snake. It blinked at him, the vertical pupil expanding to focus.

“Do not leave, young one.”

Shaking, Oros couldn’t make out the rest of the body; it melded into the rock. Perfect camouflage not even his tribe could mimic.

“Who are you?” the ancient beast rumbled.

The Wilder felt dizzy, kneeling to touch the ground. “I am Oros, a descendent of the Nalari Druids who fled the Pale Queen for the Red Desert.”

“Ah, yes. I remember.” An exhale from unseen nostrils knocked a spray of pebbles down the hill. “Why are you here?”

“I… I have encountered…intrusive beings beyond my knowing, great one. I seek this ancient land’s oldest counsel.”

The giant snake’s eye shifted toward the distant ocean. “Intrusive beings, hm? That is one way to describe them. What are they doing?”

“Do you not know?”

“Well, I have noted your wings, child. New, aren’t they?”

Oros touched one nervously, confirming their presence even in his sleep. “They… resist changing form.”

“And you are accustomed to taking any animal form you wish.”

“Yes.”

The Dragon lay silent for a time within his hill, his metallic gaze drifting over the spire, the valley, and the star-marked sky. “Curious that I did not feel her arise.”

“Feel who arise?”

“Uradri.”

“Who?”

The Dragon’s eye glanced sidelong at him. “The creature who gave you those wings.”

“Creature? Is she not an Elf?”

“Once, yes. Not anymore. She returns, periodically, usually drawn to her bloodline.” The Dragon blinked slowly. “I am sorry she found you.”

Oros swallowed. “Why?”

“She changes plans, large and small. It is her nature, she cannot help it. Her presence alone sweeps you up, carries you upon the currents of the next attainable goal. Whatever that is, it’s unlikely to be your idea or your dream, but you cannot but respond to the urgency.”

His stomach tightening, Oros received the impression the Desert Flame tilted his head.

“Is that not so?” he asked in a gentle rumble.

“Yes, great one,” the Elf murmured. “It is so.”

“Forgive yourself, Oros. Against one such as her, those with a passion for life have little defense.”

“My tribe,” he whispered.

“I am sorry. Tell me what has happened, however much you will share. Perhaps I can offer advice to prepare them for an inevitable change.”

“A bargain?”

Rocks scraped against each other as if the Flame shook his head. “No bargain needed, Oros. You are in danger as it is. Clear your thoughts in my valley. I cannot tell you more than you already know but talk anyway. It may help decide what you must do.”

The Dragon allowed the Wilder to sit in his valley for a portion of the night, reflecting in a peace and quiet he hadn’t enjoyed since the Sovereign appeared as a white horse in Koorul. Oros chose to tell the Dragon about his enthrallment, his dreams, about his magic changing…

“And now she wants me to hide her child among some other elders I’ve never met.”

“Elders?”

“She claimed they were her ancestors,” the young male said skeptically.

“Hm. She speaks the truth. She does have ancestors who walk this world and remember her as an Elf.”

Oros wasn’t comforted.

“Describe this new child,” the Dragon suggested.

“Pale with red hair. No wings or strange features. She looks like an Elf but…” the Wilder shrugged, “ cannot be, according to you.”

“Ah, indeed. Does she have a name?”

“Not that I know. Penni… Or, Uradri never said.”

“Who is the sire?”

“I do not know that either. Uradri was pregnant when she ran into us. She is running from him. I think she used us to hide, says she intends to ‘draw him away’ from us and her ancestors.” The Wilder frowned.

“Which implies he’d not only come for her but for the baby.

And now that I’ve seen… now that I’ve felt her magic when countering a demon, to think that she’s afraid of whoever hunts her… ?”