TRASH

POV -> Corian

The escape into the forest turned from a sprint to a brisk walk. Corian had lost count of the number of times he had checked his shoulder for the red glow of hostile magic. But as the night turned to dawn, the golem had not caught up. And they had yet to find a road.

Justin was set on a single direction, seemingly as lost as Corian, but confidently carving forth through the underbrush. They had come up on the wrong side of the ravine, but there were smaller villages dotting the forest edging Millstead. If they came across a bigger one, there was an opportunity to trade some labour and assistance for a crude weapon or rations.

Another hour of wandering, and Corian caught a faint scent on the wind. A sharp and unnatural presence of smoke that lingered above the smell of dew and wet dirt.

A fire.

Corian sped up to pass Justin's side, veering slightly off from his path. "This way."

Nine times out of ten, it was a good indicator that people were close by. But the scent remained relatively flat as Corian followed it, without a black trail to follow through the trees. He saw the scorched earth, cloudless and cold with age. His shoulders dropped as he stared at the decimated village, the one in ten he wasn't hoping for.

It took Corian a moment to recognise what he was standing in. Every structure was burnt to ash and pebbles. But he recognised the town hall that barely stood, and the wooden stage he had first spoken of a fictitious monster to a crowd of curious villagers. The Black Witch.

The irony was almost laughable. He had come full circle. Only this time, he was standing, and all who once lived in the quaint village burned alive by a magical flame that travelled only where it was told to.

Justin came to Corian's side, kicking some ash off his boots with a heavy sigh. "Shame."

"This is the village I told you about."

Justin nodded, his attention distracted to the quiet clearing. His eyes were searching for something. "We should get your armour."

Corian eyed his friend curiously, a lump growing in his throat. "My what?"

"The set you were wearing when you died." Justin replied. "We should see if it's still here." He held Corian's inquisitive stare for a moment, throwing his arms up in a sarcastic shrug. "Then we'll have a weapon."

"Right…" Corian muttered, tailing Justin as he wandered deeper into the burnt wreck.

Their paths split once they reached the center of the village. Justin went to wander the skeletons of huts nearby, kicking up the ash to inspect burnt tools and belongings that had survived the blaze. Corian was pulled by a different purpose, his steps gravitating towards the central hall. He knew what he would find. His father dispatched of people the same way he dispatched of the monsters his squadron hunted. A simple trap like locked doors or iron cages, and a flame.

As he entered the structure, he froze. An occupant had found the pile of charred bodies first, crouched down and nibbling at a stray black and rotted limb. From its charred complexion that glowed a bloody red from where its skin had cracked, Corian imagined that it had wriggled its way out of the pile.

The Witch of the Westlock's curse touched all who still held their head, and laid unburied for more than seven days.

His gut twisted as he stared at the creature. It did not seem bothered by his presence, nor Justin's, as he stood searching the wreck a few meters away. Corian watched the undead for a moment, a sick thought crawling its way into his mind.

"Can you talk?"

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It perked, its head twitching as it turned to face Corian. Whatever eyes it once had were melted from its skull by the flames. It gave the air a couple sniffs, catching Corian's dead scent, and then turning back to its snack.

Corian felt some relief. "I guess not."

"Corian."

He turned to Justin's whisper, the man bent over a chest in one of the burnt huts nearby. Corian could see the expensive glimmer of his engraved sword in the ash, the nostalgia flipping his stomach with disgust as he approached.

Even if it belonged to a version of himself that had long since died, armour was armour. The Heroguard sigil was immaculate. With enough luck, it would be enough to let him through the gates of Toroy Garotzch without question. He just had one, more immediate problem to deal with first.

It pitted his stomach with dread to think of it. The man he had been travelling with was not Justin. He had teetered on the thought, bothered by small inconsistencies. But this village had confirmed it.

Ever the hopeless fool for chance, the first thing Justin would have looked for was survivors.

He piled the polished pieces out of the chest, keeping the man in the corner of his vision while he slipped the set on. "Want some?"

"I'm good."

Corian kept to his business, adjusting the pieces to fit without an offer from the man to help. He grabbed his helmet last, giving him a friendly smile before fitting it snug on his head. Shade. The sunlight couldn't stop him now.

"Thanks for reminding me to grab this." Corian finally said, bending to grab his blade off the ground.

The man nodded.

Corian drew his blade, staring at the polished sword appraisingly. Then he settled his gaze heavily on what looked like Justin, and pointed the weapon at him. "I think we missed introductions."

The man stared at the blade blankly, giving Corian a nervous chuckle when he did not relent. He slowly raised his open palms, taking a single step back. "Sorry… you've lost me."

"I didn't know my armour was here, thought my dad took it so I wouldn't fight back." Corian said. "So why would you know?"

"Lucky guess?"

"Lucky fall." Corian retorted. "And since we've brought that up, we didn't fall together. So why were you down there looking for me 'all night'?"

He laughed, his tone trying to brush off the accusations. But Corian didn't budge at his relaxed aura, which forced him to step back away from the weapon once more. "I was searching the ravine because I saw you fall."

"Off the bridge?"

He gave Corian a smug grin, as though he'd finally caught him. "You didn't fall off the bridge. Rikka threw you down."

"I'm sure you had a great view of that, from the bottom of a ravine." Corian growled, taking a step closer to force the man back again.

He let out a sharp sigh, rolling his eyes. "Is this because I didn't help you fight that arcane hound?"

"Tell me your name." Corian boomed, driving the man back to stand exposed in the middle of the clearing. Corian could feel the sunlight between the cracks of his armour, now a minor irritant that he could bear. But the scattered shade of the trees had clearly been something they both sought.

Where the sunlight touched the man's body, there was the smallest disturbance. Like a mirage that followed the horizon on a hot day. Corian watched it carefully step around his pointed blade, returning to a patch of shade, a dark trail dissolving off its skin like faint smoke. He tried to think back to the stream when they had first met. When his eyes were washed with river water while Justin stood over him in the sunlight. Was the mirage there too?

"What are you? What happened to Justin?"

The man's face relaxed, giving in to the ruse. His lips curved into a pitying, yet dark, look. "You remember what happened. He fell."

Corian checked his shoulder, "He's still back there?"

"Maybe." The man spoke, tapping the point of the blade with his fingertips. The shadows continued to trail, marking the blade like ink before fading.

Corian lowered his blade slightly, trying to read into the creature standing before him. "Alive?"

It shrugged. "Maybe."

"You know my name, so what's yours?"

"Later." It hummed. "I only tell my friends."

Corian thought on the creature. It was reluctant to share a name, but he had never seen a fairy like it. There were plenty of horrors in the night that wore skins to hide amongst people and trick them. Seeing as this thing, whatever it was, had started their meeting with a trick, Corian was not sold on any sort of trust with them. But he had to start from somewhere before he tried to take its head off its shoulders. "What can I call you then?"

"A friend. One that can help.."

"What kind of help?"

"It's your choice. But it will be a trade of course."

Corian scowled, raising his blade again "I don't make deals with shadows that hide their face."

"I could bring him back to you." It spoke, its grin growing at the hope it had spurred in Corian's eyes.

But he pushed down the thought, steeling his glare as his grip on his sword tightened. The subtle gesture did not please the creature, and its lips fell into a frown.

"Or… I could take you to your sister with the snap of my fingers."

Corian swung, his blade cutting through a trailing shadow that dissipated in the air.

The voice returned, a whisper in his ear with no body to hold it. "I'll give you some time to think on it."