The Forgotten VII

Zacharias stirred, and wiped the fever-sweat from his brow.

“Dove sono?” he asked the mist around him, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. The silence was maddening, even the dead leaves under his body didn’t crackle when he moved.

Where am I?

(LEAVE HIM AT THE TREE.)

“Oscurita.” The Darkness did this. He remembered now. He’d challenged the bastard, and he’d been beaten and sent here as punishment. Alone, surrounded by mist and bone-deep silence. Zacharias couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat.

“Did he kill me?” No, that was insane. The Darkness wouldn’t do that. He was too hell-bent on torturing him. And I couldn’t be lucky enough to be freed from that hairy demone iota Tharon, he thought with a pained grin.

Zacharias struggled to his feet and moved closer to the tree. He studied the fire that burned without heat, grateful he had it as a source of light as long as he didn’t stray too far into the mist. Weakness overtook him and he laid both hands against the tree to steady himself.

<Coward.>

Zacharias hissed as pain ripped across his back. He stumbled backward and doubled over in agony. He screamed, but there was no sound.

<I understand. I am ready.>

More pain robbed him of coherent thought. He was overtaken by feelings of anger, sorrow, betrayal, and underneath, a grim determination that no matter what Father wished, she would not scream.

She?

Zacharias fought to stay conscious, to see whose pain had taken root in the tree, to understand –

<The book. I have to find the book.>

“Quale libro?” Zacharias sank to his knees. “Who hurt you, Ombra?”

He fell onto his side and hugged himself, trying to push the pain away. It wasn’t his … but it had something to do with him.

He looked up at the fire burning in the tree. “Who was it, albero? Who bled here?”

He gave in to the pain and lost consciousness.