章 4: Strike
1217-08-04
Hungry
I'm so hungry.
It overwhelms me, consuming every inch of my body.
Cold.
The cold is relentless, though the thin insulation offers a shred of relief.
Hunger and cold. Together, they define Eleanor—a desolate wasteland, a palace of pain and suffering. The warmth is stolen from your body almost instantly, leaving behind nothing but a gnawing emptiness and a suffocating sense of helplessness.
Last night, Gold snuggled into my arms in bed. She claimed it was "to stay warm," but I wasn't sure I believed her. She had pulled her daughter, Samantha, close as well.
Samantha's hair had grown—now almost entirely silver, much like her mother's. I hadn't seen either of them shiver since their hair began to change. It made me wonder why, and what it all meant.
I slipped away from Gold, letting her and Samantha sleep. My time was coming. We are depending on each other.
I scanned the room. The palace we had taken refuge in was buried in snow, its grandeur scarred and broken by debris. I spent hours clearing it, melting snow with candles. The heat barely worked, but it was better than nothing. Beneath Gold's bed, a stubborn clump of snow refused to melt. I dug deeper into it until my hands brushed against something cold and smooth.
An egg.
A dragon egg.
Its dull silver shell mirrored the strange hue of everyone's hair. Cold to the touch, it radiated an unsettling familiarity, the same aura as the cursed blue weapons that had once scarred me. My hands trembled as I held it, yet I knew what had to be done.
A pact.
I pushed the dragon egg further beneath the bed and adjusted the candles around it. Truthfully, I wouldn't mind if Gold discovered it. Dragons were likely common in this frozen wasteland, after all.
Carefully, I opened the door and stepped outside. I stood on the steps, bracing against the icy wind.
The sun hung high in the sky, but its light offered no warmth.
Core.
The thought flickered unbidden. Memories of a girl who betrayed me surfaced, dragging me back to another place, another time. We'd walked the streets of Vene together, laughing as though the world had been ours. Perhaps I had gotten too close. Perhaps I should've left her to her delusions.
Delusions.
The cold had a way of warping reality, twisting thoughts into half-truths. Yet even its cruel grip was better than the frost outside, where the blue weapons felt like shards of ice stabbing into your very soul. Anything was better than this frozen prison called Marano.
I waited on the steps, my breath misting in the frigid air. The cold grew deeper, sharper, as memories of her—of her family, of the perfect one lingered.
Lightning.
.....
"What"
Are you ok
I looked up the trail, my gaze freezing on the figure before me. Wellington in hand, my eyes widened in recognition. Less was here.
"Are you here to take me, Less?"
Less nodded silently.
"How do you keep going like this?" I asked, my voice cracking.
Less sat down beside me without a word. I could tell he was ready to listen—ready to hear me complain, to hear me rant, to hear whatever I needed to say.
I wanted to appear strong. I wanted to be a good student. A good friend.
Friend.
"I think I talk too much, Less," I muttered.
Less nodded, his expression steady.
"I think… I should have left them in their delusion."
Less smiled faintly.
"And I think… I hate them. The Red Family. The Perfect One."
"I understand," Less said quietly.
"It hurts," I whispered, more to myself than to him.
"King Milton," Less replied simply. "He did this."
"You're right, Less."
Why would I blame people who had only ever known peace? Only ever known delusion? To them, I was the crazy one. To them, I needed to be stopped. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to hate her. At least, not entirely. I truly hoped for the best for her.
Or at least, that's what I wanted to say.
Instead, I let the thought linger unspoken. "I hope she's okay," I murmured, turning my gaze toward the sea.
For a moment, Less studied me. Then, with a slight gesture, he let me know it was time to go.
I stood up slowly, brushing the snow and ice from my clothes.
Looking to the past wouldn't do anything for me now. What mattered was who I needed to protect—Gold and Samantha. Even if it hurt, even if there had been a time when I desperately wanted to be a knight, that time was gone. It wasn't who I was anymore.
I looked out at the endless expanse of water.
"I hope she's doing well," I mumbled.
The waves didn't answer, but they carried my words far, as though whispering them to the horizon.
We trudged through the snow until we reached a hidden underground entrance. The cold became damp as we descended into the pit. At the end of the dim hallway, bars separated me from the arena beyond. Inside the holding area, weapons were displayed—crafted from the same chilling material that had cut me before. My hands trembled.
I stepped into the pit.
Across from me stood a woman—short, slender, and timid in her demeanor. She wore a worn leather jacket that looked more comfortable than practical. Her hair had the same creeping gray as the others, and her dull blue eyes seemed to reflect the lifeless sea.
Behind me, the silver bars slammed shut. The sound startled her, and she jumped as if afraid of her own shadow. I glanced upward. Above the pit, no one had gathered to watch.
"What's your name?" I yelled across to her.
"My name is…" she hesitated, her voice barely audible. Then, looking down, she murmured, "Dara."
"Dara…" I sighed, setting my weapon down on the frozen ground.
She clung to her dagger for a long moment, her knuckles white with tension. Finally, she relented, her arm falling to her side. Like so many others here, Dara's hair was silver, but her eyes... her eyes reminded me of the sea, restless and unending. Despite my gesture, she still seemed uneasy, her fear radiating in waves.
"I won't fight you, Dara," I said firmly.
"We have to fight!" she cried, her voice breaking as tears fell, melting the snow beneath her.
Now that I could get a better look at her, she appeared unnaturally thin. Food here seemed rationed for those deemed "useful." She is pale.
"When was the last time you ate?" I asked softly.
She didn't answer. Instead, her sobs grew louder, raw and broken.
Hunger. That relentless, unyielding hunger.
I knew it too well. Even after my victories, food was scarce. If it hadn't been for Gold…
I clenched my jaw. Why was Gold treated so favorably? The thought burned in my chest, but I pushed it aside. Now wasn't the time.
I grabbed my spear, gripping it tightly. In a swift motion, I snapped it in half. Taking the jagged edge like a dagger, I made my choice.
And I stabbed myself.
The pain was immediate and overwhelming, a cold so intense it burned like fire. The ice that coated the weapon seemed alive, wrapping itself around my wound and driving deeper into my flesh. My body shook violently, the sensation unlike anything I'd ever felt. It wasn't just pain—it was an invasion, as if time itself had frozen in that moment.
Minutes passed like hours.
This was a test. I knew it.
The last test had been one of courage. Would I run in fear, or would I stand and fight? But this… this was different. This was a test of compassion. Would I take the easy victory, or would I refuse to hurt her?
Dara's expression changed as the blood spread beneath me. A sly smile crept across her lips.
"Delusion," she said coldly, before slamming my head into the frozen ground in a sudden flash of movement.
The impact left my vision blurred and my body weak. She knelt beside me, her voice a harsh whisper in my ear.
"One thing you need to learn here," she hissed, "is that no one needs your help."
Gasp.
I woke up. The room around me is warm. The room could've been one of the many in the main building, the architecture so familiar I could almost believe this was just another part of the place I'd grown used to.
I wrapped the cloths tighter around my side to stop the bleeding. They were soaked in red, a grim reminder of how close I'd come. Struggling to my feet, I grimaced.
I was wrong.
I opened the door cautiously. The main hall is as lively as ever. People ate and drank at long tables, the sound of laughter and clinking mugs filling the air. A pang of jealousy twisted in my chest.
Leader sat at a smaller table, leaning over a map with Dara and Books. They were deep in discussion, their voices low but casual.
"Looks like the pretty boy's finally awake," Dara called out with a laugh when she noticed me.
I gritted my teeth, gripping my side as I hobbled toward them. Before I could collapse, Less appeared, steadying me and helping me to a seat at the table. I stuffed some jerky into my pocket.
"Where's Gold?" I snapped, glaring at Leader.
"I'm not sure," he replied calmly. "Probably sleeping."
He passed me a plate piled with meat, his gaze sharp but unreadable.
"Eat," he commanded.
I didn't argue. I tore into the food, devouring it hungrily.
"You and Gold have gotten close," Leader said with a smirk, taking a bite of his own meal.
"I guess," I mumbled between mouthfuls.
"You guess?" Books chuckled, looking over at me. "She's been feeding you."
While I was asleep, I thought.
"It's normal," Dara chimed in. "People who survive that wretched boat ride together tend to stick close."
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Books and Leader exchanged knowing smiles before Leader leaned back in his chair.
"Can I ask you something?" I said after a pause.
"What is it, Vena?" Leader replied, amused.
"Is this a prison or not?"
"We do have a prison," he said simply, "but you won't end up there."
"This doesn't feel like a prison," I muttered. "Then what is this? A country? A method of torture?"
"Eleanor," Leader explained, "is where Marano sends the people they want to get rid of."
"You don't say," I said mockingly, rolling my eyes. "I already figured that much out."
"Then you know everything you need," Leader replied with a shrug.
"Then why does Marano send us food?" I demanded. "It makes no sense!"
"To keep us in their debt," Books said, gripping her glass tightly. "We're entirely reliant on them."
"Have you tried reaching out to Shatar or Tobe?"
"We could build a boat out of the trees," I suggested.
"That wouldn't work," Dara interjected. "Milton comes every month or two with his armada. We can't fight them all."
"What if we stole a boat?"
"Boats get lost in the Serpent's Strait all the time," Books said.
Leader's lips curled into a faint smile.
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