A WITCH IS COMING.
Yu stared at himself in the mirror, straining, listening.
Silence.
No — not silence.
In the common room below, the world breathed as if unaware. The clink of cutlery, murmured conversations, the scrape of chairs against stone. A log shifted in the hearth; fire cracked and spat embers. Somewhere in the depths of the hall, the shaman’s voice wove through it all, humming a slow, foreign melody.
It was deceivingly peaceful.
Yu swallowed against the tightness in his throat. It was unreal — to be the only one suffocating under waves of panic. He imagined them, the others, some hunched over bowls of steaming stew, others lounging and stretching their legs before the fire. With the vivid sounds, the images formed naturally.
He did not want this. Yu did not want this to happen. And most of all, he did not want to be the only one who knew.
“A witch is coming,” Yu whispered, his breath fogging the mirror. His voice was hoarse, barely more than breath. He said it again, louder. Then again, nearly a shout. He needed to make it real.
And suddenly – below – silence.
The shift was instant. Bowls scraped across tables. Chairs screeched against the floor. Metal rattled, belts unfastened, leather buckled, blades loosened in their sheaths. Footsteps; some deliberate, measured, others rushed. Some ran upstairs, followed by doors thrown open, then slamming shut.
Tension bristled. Yu was caught in it. He did not stop to change, did not think of his half-dressed, sloppy-bandaged state. He wrenched the door open and bolted downstairs.
The common room had emptied. From the escort party, Fallem, Kal, Nion, and Ondahr remained — armoured, armed, ready, with Nion and Ondahr in full battle gear. The shaman stood by the hearth, her melody unbroken. No guards were present, except —
“Come here!” Bubs, from the kitchen.
He had not called Yu by name, but Yu knew the command was meant for him. He ignored it and rushed outside.
Pages:
Pages:
Pages: