My heart had calmed down enough for my hands to stop shaking by the time I started my trek to find Kallistê. I pushed my hand against the trunk of an ancient maple tree, propelling myself forward. I should have known the adrenaline from before would have worn off a long while ago. Weariness would soon catch up with me.
Each step grew more and more sluggish as I clambered up a steep hill, digging the tip of my bow into the ground to pull myself up. A right, then straight all the way, to where Kallistê would be.
But my heavy breathing and little strength did nothing to prevent the fact that I had killed a faerie. I had felt its blood spill on my hands, where it still stayed, drying and flaking off my skin. Yet I suppose if I were to kill the Imperial Lords, this was merely a practice. A practice to see if I had the guts to kill. If I had the mask of a cold-blooded murderer.
It had been a predator, yet a prey as well. And I realized then that this was an endless cycle of chasing, a game of lives and deaths. A gamble of chance and fate as the faeries wanted myself dead as much as I wanted their Imperial Lords. It was just the matter of carefully bidding our time now, waiting in the shadows for the other to fall into a trap. It was a death ploy, and I had walked straight into the heart of it.
I brushed off the uneasy thoughts as I waded my way through the thick brush. Green blades of grass tickled my ankles as I made my way through, my knees buckling with every foot forward. I didn't know where Kallistê was, where she might be as I finally entered the clearing. The last I had seen her was when she was atop her horse, before that creature ambushed us.
I wiped my moist hands on my blood-crusted pants while stopping in the middle of the clearing. So innocent—these woods were so innocent, yet it was ironic how creatures of death roamed free in it. A glamour I suppose, to trick a mortal's eye to believe all this was real, to snatch our life away before we could blink.
My eyes scanned the willowy birch trees that surrounded the clearing, hoping for a glimpse of long golden hair. A snort escaped me as I found none. Of course there wouldn't be—it was ludicrous of me to believe she would give up a chance of having me killed.
Though just as I was about to retrace my way back to the manor, to where it was safe, a warm hand gripped my shoulder. Whirling me around and pinning me against the trunk of a birch tree with such force, my breath was knocked out of my lungs. A loud thud of my head against the tree trunk had blood trickling down the side of my face. Bright stars gleamed and danced in my vision.
"Oh," a feminine voice said, almost sounding—relieved, "it's you."
Only then did I open my eyes a fraction, seeing the familiar blond waves and depthless sapphire eyes. Kallistê released her hold and stepped back. Blood, red as rubies, stained her once-spotless white dress.
"It got away," she said, wiping her dagger on the skirts of her dress, "Determining by your state, I am guessing that there were two of them. Did you kill it?"
She lifted her gaze to meet mine. Her eyes were dark and shadowed and her face was a careful mask of blankness. It was the cool façade of a warrior, I noticed. Honed by centuries of wars and deaths. My chest tightened to a point of pain.
"Yes," I replied quietly.
The word was soft, a cold statement.
Kallistê gave a slight nod of understanding.
"Good, those damned beasts deserve it," she said, sheathing her dagger. "My stallion was killed by the creature, we would have hike back to the manor on foot."
I didn't dare peer back at where the rotting carcass of my mare now lay, the smell of death itself wafting through the air. No, I didn't look back as I let my feet take me far, far away from the yawning abyss of darkness.
Perhaps it was an illusion of exhaustion but walking felt like wading through quicksand. My lungs were burning and hoarse and my legs were numb from pain. Silence had been our only company since we started yet I could understand why. There was a raging storm beneath those blue orbs of Kaliistê's with a promise of violence. I did not doubt that brutality could easily end my life, much less everything around her.
"What were those things?" I asked, breaking the tense stillness.
Kallistê's face was still pale, her eyes still staring ahead. "You don't want to know."
"Please. Was it that ... Alger you mentioned?"
Kallistê's sapphire eyes were dark as she answered hoarsely. "No. It was a creature that should not be in these lands. We call it the Baphomet. You cannot hunt it, and you cannot kill it. Even with your beloved arrows."
"Why can't I look at it?"
"Because when you look at it—when you acknowledge it—that's when it becomes real. That's when it can kill you," Kallistê said, her voice monotonous and cold. "Some say they are the offspring of death and the Mother. Others say they have a piece of the soul of the Mother herself. Molded by her hands and given life with her breath."
A shiver wormed its way down my spine. This was the Asteria I'd expected—the creatures that made humans speak to them in hushed tones even now. The reason I hadn't hesitated, not for a heartbeat, when I'd let the arrow plant itself into that creature's onyx black eye. "I heard its voice in my head. It told me to look." And it knew all my secrets, all my desires.
Kallistê rolled her shoulders. "Well thank the Vonain that you managed to kill it. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day." She gave me a wan smile. I didn't return it.
I still heard the Baphomet's voice whispering between the leaves, calling to me. It was enough to send true fear into my heart.
After an hour of meandering through the trees, hardly speaking to each other, I'd stopped trembling enough to turn to her.
"So you're old," I said. "And you carry around a dagger, and go on border patrol. Did you fight in the War?" Fine—perhaps I hadn't quite let go of my curiosity about her hand.
She winced. "Shit Eleena—I'm not that old."
"Are you a warrior though?" Would you be able to kill me if it ever came to that?
Kallistê huffed a laugh. It was good enough to lighten the mood. "Not as good a Phoebus or Oberon, but I know how to handle my weapons." She patted the hilt of her dagger. "Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress? If you took down the Baphomet, you probably don't need to learn anything. Only where to aim right?" She tapped on her chest.
"I don't know how to use a sword. I only know how to hunt."
"Same thing, isn't it?"
"For me it is different."
Kallistê fell silent, considering. "I suppose you humans are such hateful, ungrateful cowards that you would have wet yourself, curled up, and waited to die if you'd known beyond a doubt what Asteria really is without all this," she waved to our surroundings, "innocence and beauty." Insufferable. Kallistê sighed as she looked me over. "Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?"
"Do you ever stop being such a prick?" I snapped back.
Dead—really, truly, I should have been dead for that.
But Kallistê grinned at me, wide and true. "Much better."
Willodean it seemed, had not been wrong.
We soon fell back into the heavy silence, for once comfortable instead of tense. Yet it was only made to have Kallistê break it again.
"To be honest, almost no faerie has ever encountered the Baphomet and lived to tell the tale. Much less humans," she said turning to face me, "You have a new title now Eleena."
I couldn't breathe, couldn't think properly as she said the next few words.
"Eleena Asterin, Baphomet Slayer."
.____________________.
Whatever tentative truce we built that afternoon vanished at the dinner table.
Phoebus was lounging in his usual seat, a long talon out and circling his goblet. It paused on the lip as soon as I entered, Kallistê on my heels. His amber eyes pinned me to the spot.
Right. I'd brushed him off that morning, claiming I wanted to be alone.
Phoebus slowly looked at Kallistê, whose face had turned grave. "We went on a hunt," Kallistê said.
"I heard," Phoebus said roughly, glancing between us as we took our seats. "And did you have fun?" Slowly, his golden talon sank back into his flesh.
Kallistê didn't answer, leaving it to me. Coward. I cleared my throat. "Sort of," I said.
"Did you catch anything?" Every word was clipped out.
"No." Kallistê gave me a pointed cough, as if urging me to say more.
But I had nothing to say. Phoebus stared at me for a long moment, then dug into his food, not at all interested in talking to me, either.
Then Kallistê quietly said, "Phoebus."
Phoebus looked up, more animal than fae in those speckled gold eyes. A demand for whatever it was Kallistê had to say.
Kallistê's throat bobbed. "The Baphomet was in the forest today."
The fork in Phoebus's hand folded in on itself. He said with lethal calm, "You ran into it?"
Kallistê nodded. "It attacked both of us. There were two of them. One who went after Eleena and the other after myself. Eleena had managed to kill hers but mine had escaped. I had wounded it in its ribs though. Those two must have snuck through the border."
Metal groaned as Phoebus's talons punched out, obliterating the fork. They gleamed menacingly, reflecting off the embers of the fireplace. He rose to his feet with a powerful, brutal movement. I tried not to tremble at the contained fury, at how his canines seemed to lengthen as he said, "Where in the forest?"
Kallistê told him. Phoebus threw a glance in my direction before stalking out the room and shutting the door behind him with unnerving gentleness.
Kallistê loosed a breath, pushing away her half-eaten food and rubbing at her temples.
"Where is he going?" I asked, staring toward the door.
"To hunt the Baphomet."
"You said it couldn't be killed—that you can't face it."
"Phoebus can."
My breath caught a bit. The gruff Seelie Faerie half-heartedly flattering me was capable of killing a thing like the Baphomet. And yet he'd served me himself that first night, offered me life rather than death. I'd known he was lethal, that he was a warrior of sorts, but ...
"So he went to hunt the Baphomet where we were earlier today?"
Kallistê shrugged. "If he's going to pick up a trail, it would be there."
I had no idea how anyone could face that immortal horror, but ... it wasn't my problem.
And just because Kallistê wasn't going to eat anymore didn't mean I wouldn't. Kallistê, lost in thought, didn't even notice the feast I downed.
I returned to my room, and—awake and with nothing else to do—began monitoring the gardens beyond for any signs of Phoebus's return. He didn't come back.
I sharpened the knife I'd hidden away on a bit of stone I'd taken from the garden. An hour passed—and still Phoebus did not return.
The moon showed its face, casting the garden below in silver and shadow.
Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous to watch for his return, to see if he could indeed survive against the Baphomet. My eyes felt like bleeding and my legs were like lead as I turned from the window, about to drag myself into bed.
But something moved out in the garden.
I lunged for the curtains beside the window, not wanting to be caught waiting for him, and peered out.
Not Phoebus—but someone lurked by the fountain, facing the house. Looking toward me.
Male, strong-build yet not too bulky, and—
The breath went out of me as the faerie strode closer—just two steps into the light leaking from the house.
Not a faerie, but a man.
It was the same copper hair which my hands had run through multiple times, the familiar genuine smile who had won my heart.
It couldn't be—no, it couldn't be. Because it would mean that the tiny scrap of my dreams could still come true. The fragment of hope which I had clung on these past few days.
Because standing there in all his glory ... was Aslan.