10 Chapter 10: Retaliation (3)

A couple of hours later, Sascha shared an early dinner with her teacher. Very unlike them, they were sitting at the table and not eating anywhere else in the apartment or the Apothecary.

From where they stood, the rustic, country landscape of Arden could be seen in all its glory. The village illuminated by the golden and reddish hues of dusk as the sun began to set in the west. Before long, the shadows would lengthen and cover the world in their cloak of darkness.

She had a near-perfect view of the town, so when the plume of smoke rose vertically into the sky, it wasn't long before Sascha spotted her.

"Is that fire?" she jumped out of her spot and leaned on, almost sticking her torso out the open window. A cold, ash-scented breeze flowed around her, tousling several strands of her braid.

A chair scrape betrayed her Master's movements as the old apothecary imitated her behavior and approached the window.

"I think so, I'll go investigate what happened, and Sascha?" she turned, watching Sheamus come down the stairs. "Remember not to leave the Apothecary."

"I know. Go easy. " She gestured, shrugging it off.

The old man grunted something under his breath and ran down the stairs. For an old man, he was quite energetic. Sascha snorted in amusement and turned her attention in the direction of the plume of smoke.

She turned and from her vantage point watched people run in the direction of the smoke. Where there was that amount of smoke, there was an equal amount of fire and no one in the village wanted a spark to fly and burn half the village and its crops. In another time, Sascha would have come out to help, now she just hung up precariously from the second-floor window of the apothecary.

As she watched, a bad feeling knotted her stomach in tight knots. They had not had droughts that year, the summer was cool and rainy as always. With winter just around the corner, the weather was starting to cool down. So there was no reason for a sudden fire to appear out of nowhere.

The bad feeling only got worse when he noticed the direction from which the plume of smoke was rising. The Cornfield Estate. When Sheamus returned half an hour later with a growl in his voice and a curse between his lips, she knew it, she just knew it.

"You burned my things, right?"

"Sorry" the old man shook his soot-stained hands. "The bastard went crazy, I tell you. He made a pyre in the back and by the time it was discovered everything was on fire. "

"Do not apologize. It was not your fault." Leaning against the open racks, she controlled the urge to cry and failed miserably. They were only objects, but they were her objects. His clothes, his books, work instruments, and accessories. Everything was his and now he was lost. "You were right, I shouldn't have provoked her."

"Ah. No. No. Don't cry, okay? That I'm not good at comforting. " The old man patted her back awkwardly and a growl in his voice.

"I do not do it." he sipped.

"Seriously? It must be a matter of age, then. I must be losing my sight and my ears are plugged. "

Against her will, a reluctant smile tugged at her lips at the old man's wry comment. Then an object was deposited in her hands.

"This was the only thing I managed to save."

Sascha opened her closed palms and for a second she didn't identify the bracelet in her hands. Sterling silver links set in platinum, a manna crystal with her name carved into hers dangled from the bracelet.

It was the only possession she had when she came to Arden. Being a child, her bracelet had been turned around her wrist three times, as an adult, it fit as if it had been made for her. An anti-theft and protective stealth broke the smooth, flat surface of the silver. The magic of her bracelet had protected her for years until they forced him to part with it, but no matter how many times it was taken from her, her bracelet always found its way from her to her. Just like she did now.

She clenched her fingers around the bracelet. Finding solace in the warm, familiar throb of her magic.

"I've always wondered, why leave something so valuable to me?" Only the bracelet spoke of wealth. Much wealth. Her family had been wealthy. So why was it thrown away like an ugly dirty rag?

The weight of a warm arm from hers enveloped her.

"Maybe they had no choice."

Sascha pondered for a second, even though her tears her analytical mind wouldn't stop. Maybe, but that didn't change anything. The years of loneliness and abandonment did not change.

When she finally returned to her room that night, inexplicable exhaustion clouded her vision and dull her senses. She fell asleep even before her head touched the pillow.

*******

She was crazy, he knew it. A madness that went against everything he stood for, everything he was. But even knowledge was not enough to stop him. She had to see him, smell him, and taste him again. Before her mind convinced him that it had all been a dream, just a bloody mirage.

He sounded obsessed, he knew this too, and it still wasn't enough to stop his train of thought. She closed her eyes and searched for that elusive, faint scent. Sun, spring, and herbs. The trail was a pale green mark before her closed lids.

When he opened his eyes again, the monster watched the world from a face with human skin. He wasn't particularly a fan of human skin, but he couldn't deny that it was useful and more so now, when he needed to check something out.

Madness laughed in his ears, whispering soft, persuasive words, words of death and destruction. He inhaled and more of that delicious scent filled his nostrils, madness whipping away. Although only for now. Maybe forever if his guesses were correct.

He studied the barrier blocking his path, a high wall of magic delimiting the lands between the human realm and the Forest, the mechanism supported by discrete pillars scattered around the edge. The wall was thousands of years old and was maintained by the Witches. He could not pass, not as he was now, there were requirements to meet to cross the wall and he did not meet them at this time.

And that was why he waited, muscles contracted and tension gripping his shoulders. One wolfish ear twitched, accurately picking up the gentle pressure of a boot on the moss.

"Sire." the newcomer saluted.

Askeladd did not turn, he reached out with an open palm and waited. Instantly an object was deposited in his possession. He weighed the object with one hand, it was a simple and harmless leather band in appearance.

The monster scoffed. Even idle the innocent device exuded power. The kind of power that was enough to tighten the muscles at the back of his neck and curl his lips in a silent growl.

Askeladd strapped the device around his neck and activated it, fueling the sigils embroidered into the leather with his mana. He felt as if a thick mist clouded his senses. He took a deep breath and growled - though it was nothing compared to his usual growl - trying to shake off the sick feeling of hollowness in his chest. Askeladd sent a pulse of mana through his body and tested his power. Weak, weak, so weak that it made him want to destroy something, how the hell did humans put up with this?

He watched his hands, his claws gone, replaced by a set of rough, square nails. He took a step, and almost fell to his knees. The balance of him, compromised because of his missing tail. He touched his head, where his ears should be even in his human form. He found nothing.

It was the first time he used a Suppressor. Which is why he wasn't used to its effects. It took a few minutes and when he was sure he had everything under control he turned around.

The monster before him deeply tilted its chin, fully exposing his neck. Black hair, pointed wolf ears, night-black skin, and yellow eyes. The monster was in his human skin that night and he wore simple light leather armor over practical pants and shirt.

Askeladd grabbed the other's throat and squeezed for a second. Then he relaxed his hold on him and let him go. The monster was about six inches shorter than his two meters tall from him, but still, he lowered his gaze.

"You are in charge of the Estate tonight, Rule." If his second were there it would be easier for him, but Soren hadn't been around for forty long years and wouldn't be for another sixty more.

He paused, looked into space where two fallen pines met, and rolled his eyes. "Zen, your report."

The shadows trembled, ripping like frayed cloth and a small silver fox appeared out of nowhere. A nine-tailed fan whipped slowly through the air. Golden eyes flickered in his direction and the fox began to speak. Askeladd listened intently as he took the clothing offered by Rule. Leather pants and boots, he bared his teeth at the lycanthrope Anubi as he held out a shirt in his direction. He dressed quickly, with swift, efficient movements.

The monsters weren't animals, they weren't exhibitionists either, but Askeladd was wilder and more primitive than average. Spending most of her time in his bestial form didn't help either. Though that, he reflected, would change in the not-so-distant future.

Once he was ready he wasted no time on nonsense. He broke through the magic barrier and left the forest. Even if it was in his human form, the predator in him kept hunting. Finding his prey cost her nothing, thanks to the intelligence work of his Shadow, the monster now knew everything he needed.

I reach the heart of the human settlement, the cloak of concealment effectively masking his presence. He circled the only two-story building in the place until he stopped at the open shutters of a window. With one finger he pushed the door open and examined the interior.

Even in the weak moonlight, even with the ridiculous human vision, he would have seen her. The monster's heart contracted for a painful second, his breath catching from him. He took a quick breath, the scent of his prey filling his lungs and then everything exploded and she fell in his place.

He hadn't dreamed it. She was real and she was his.