Fion

I rise earlier than anyone else, long before the sun, and dress warmly in a sturdy green woolen gown and dark gray mantle. Outside my tent the camp is quiet.

Summoning the wind to me, I lift myself into the air to fly lightly over the treetops, following the scent of smoke through the mist.

Since waking I’ve felt my powers returning to me slowly. Even now, I have not yet regained full possession of them. But I’m glad I feel strong enough to fly now at least. I’ve been getting a little tired of being carried through the skies like a doll…

It doesn’t take me long to find Mirantha’s castle. It stinks even worse than it did before, I observe, touching my nose lightly with the back of my hand as I descend for a closer look.

Piles of smoldering corpses dot the landscape without the castle walls, monsters only, and Mirantha’s few human servants. I search the piles with a knotted gut for Victor’s fallen form, but the bodies are unrecognizable. Sensing the futility of it, I give up my search and fly myself over the castle walls.

 Unlike the irreverent smoldering heaps of bodies without, the fallen men of the north are laid out respectfully inside, awaiting their burial. Even with the decisive victory Sebastian assured the nobles they’d won yesterday, their total must number easily a thousand. A grave loss, and a noble sacrifice, I think with a heavy heart, laying an enchantment upon the bodies to slow their decay so the task of the gravediggers does not become too unpleasant. 

The castle is quiet. The weary soldiers sleep deeply; the sentries struggle to keep their eyes open. I pass over their heads unseen and enter the castle through my old room which had the bars torn off.

Without my magic to sustain it, the verdant space is already beginning to wither, but that is the least of my concerns.

On silent footsteps I descend the stairs to Victor’s room. It’s been looted, spoiled by greedy hands, though some things are as I left them that morning. The chain and collar atop his bed, for instance. I touch it with a cold hand.

This awful thing; I’d nearly forgotten he’d put it around my neck that night. It wasn’t on me when I woke the next morning. Did he take it off while I was sleeping? I frown. Why would he do such a thing?

I leave the castle feeling confused and a little empty, knowing only this for certain: there’s no way Victor is still here. Not alive anyway… 

I fly south looking for Mirantha’s retreating forces, but the mist is so thick I can see nothing. Though I summon a wind to blow it away, the cloud remains. Mirantha’s magic? I wonder.

Her forces may have lost the castle, but the Crimson Witch is still at full power. Her retribution will not tarry, I predict. It will be swift and fierce. I wonder if the men of the north will be able to withstand it on their own.

Slowly I make my way back north. Dawn’s light draws a faint yellow line along the eastern horizon. Below me, I hear birds start to sing. After a while, the camp comes into view.

I lower myself through the trees a few hundred yards outside camp so as not to draw anyone’s attention to my ability. This power is my own; I wield it when I need it, not to impress anyone. Let them imagine me as weak or as strong as they will, their impressions do not matter to me, so long as I can keep some anonymity.

Reaching the camp, I find only a few people awake. The sleepy sentries and the cook, and one figure that’s just starting to be familiar.

“Fion!” he gasps when he sees me, and strides to my side with a somewhat frantic expression. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. When I found you weren’t in your tent—”

“You looked in my tent?” my eyebrow lifts warily.    

“Well, I—” he sputters, “I just wanted to make sure you were really real and that yesterday wasn’t just a dream. I was only going to look in on you, but you were gone.”

“I woke early and felt like a walk,” I answer vaguely. 

“You shouldn’t do that without me. It’s dangerous on your own, what if a wild beast had found you, or one of Mirantha’s soldiers? From now on you must stay by my side at all times, where I can protect you.”

“I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Bast.”

“I’m sure you are,” he says, resting his hands on my shoulders as though reassuring himself of my presence. “But please, don’t run off on your own. Understand, Fion, I finally found you. I can’t lose you now.”

Is this a normal level of protectiveness? I wonder as I look up into his pained eyes. Or is this something else entirely?  

For the first time I feel a trace of sinister emotion from this man. Not a desire to protect, but a selfish need to possess. My imagination?

“You’re trying to control me,” I observe calculatedly, and this time I sense a different emotion.

“I worry about you,” he says sharply. “If anything were to happen to you…”

He’s angry, I think, watching him carefully. Why?

Still holding my shoulders, he sighs and hangs his head slightly as though in defeat.

“I’m sorry. I let my fear run away with me. The last thing I want is for you to feel you have no freedom. Only please, next time tell me before you disappear like that. Please,” he says again, his blue eyes pleading. I watch him a long moment, then nod slowly. His grip tightens on my shoulders before he finally smiles and lets his hands fall away.

“Thank you. This morning I will be busy conferring with the knights and officers. After that meeting I will be making my way north to the capitol with news of our victory. I would like you to accompany me.”

“If you did not ask me, I’d have asked to go with myself.”

“That’s right; you said you wanted to keep an eye on me.”

“If you will permit.”

“Of course,” Bast beams. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Feeling weary after my flight and this tense exchange with Bast, I leave him and return to my tent for a nap. When I wake again the sun is fully up and the camp is lively.

I take a late breakfast with Katalin who’s reception continues to be startlingly mixed. At times I sense the girl’s real awe of me, her curiosity and her dreamy fascination with my tale. But then she remembers I am Bast’s love interest, and her personality shifts to one of open dislike and even hostility. It’s a little hard to keep up with, but I don’t mind that honest personality of hers. Indeed, I can easily imagine how we might one day be friends if she could get over her dislike of me. But that seems unlikely.

After I’ve eaten, Bast comes to find me. “The meeting is finished. Have you made your preparations?”

“I have nothing to prepare,” I answer frankly. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”

“Bast, you’re going to see Father?” Katalin appears at his arm to tug him a bit petulantly. “Not fair. I want to come with.”

“It is too much weight for me to fly with two,” he dismisses her indifferently, and Katalin’s pout grows bigger.

“But I’m tired of all this camping. I want to go home.”

“You knew what kind of journey this would be when you begged your father to let you come along.”

“And why do you think I wanted to come along? I don’t care about the war; the only one I care about is—”

“Fion, if you’re ready, we’ll leave straightaway,” says Bast, dismissing Katalin without so much as a glance backwards.

I look between the two of them, observing quietly, forming my own impressions. Then I look to Bast.

“I’m ready.”