CHAPTER 837: RETURN TO BRACKENCLIFF

Fable bounded across the land, a streak of silver over rolling hills and scant forests. His gait was long and smooth, cresting and falling like a boat bobbing across the sea. Each time his paws touched down, we lunged forward with a renewed burst of speed. The wind buffeted me with every stride, tugging my hair in a crimson wave, while the soft gold of my aura dragged behind us like a comet’s tail, lingering for several hundred feet before dissipating.

At first, I clenched Fable’s fur tightly, knuckles white, but as the minutes and then hours dragged on, I couldn’t help but relax. Our speed was terrifying, but Fable moved with practiced gentility, his body absorbing the shock of every bound. It was soothing, in a way, and I found myself dozing. Occasionally, a tough landing or a sudden surge of altitude would jolt me awake, my heart racing, but these moments grew less and less frequent. By the time night fell, I was sound asleep.

Whatever danger Luke was concerned about never materialized. The second day passed as smoothly as the first, the landscape shifting from hills to mountains, then to plains. On the morning of the third day, the scattered trees of the grasslands thickened to proper forests. We slowed dramatically, only going about twice the speed of a galloping horse.

As the hours passed, the trees swelled in size and girth, their roots gnarled and twisting, their canopies blotting out the sun. The air was heavy with the scent of earth and decomposing vegetation. Large, winding rivers occasionally broke through the woods, which Fable leaped across with impunity.

The land sloped upward, rising and falling around the small mountains that had marked the region near Brackencliff city. As we crossed one such peak, I caught a glimpse of slender spires in the distance, but they vanished quickly as Fable jumped down the other side. More cities passed us by, but none close enough for me to recognize the banners snapping atop their towers. The forests around them were thin, with fields and farms spaced throughout the trees.

I felt the horde long before I laid eyes on them. The musty forest air thickened with the taint of infernal mana, a filth that clung to my soul, heavy and oppressive. It was everywhere, thickening as we drew toward the slopes of a large mountain. Flashes of color flickered in the corners of my eyes, like tendrils of mist curling through the forest, but whenever I looked, there was nothing. Perhaps it was just the long journey playing tricks on me, or maybe the mana was... it was as if it was taunting me, mocking the vague notion and memory that, at one time, I could see it.

The trees broke as we reached a series of cliffs leading to the peak. Fable’s body coiled like a spring, and we launched into the sky, traveling five hundred feet in the blink of an eye. I screamed as the world unfurled beneath us, throwing my arms around my wolf’s neck and clinging on for dear life.

As we reached the zenith of our arc, the ground suddenly rose beneath us. Fable landed barely ten feet into our fall, having jumped clear to the top of the mountain. He padded forward to the edge of the cliffs on the other side, and I gasped, momentarily forgetting my pounding heart.

A horde of demons spread across the mountainside, their scaly hides darkening the forest. A few titanic behemoths towered above the trees, grotesque imitations of the everyday animals I remembered from life. One being, in particular, caught my eye: a humanoid giant some seventy feet tall made entirely of silver blades. Other, even stranger beings and innumerable scions, as I remembered them being called, were everywhere, spread across literal miles.

Miles beyond, in a rugged valley framed by mountains, I could make out the towers of a city. The scene stirred my memory: Brackencliff, where my friends were waiting for me.

Living among Luke’s demons for a few days, I’d grown used to the constant noise of a horde. But despite the tens of thousands of demons, the air was strangely quiet. Specks of glittering light drifted between the trees, a faint golden mist rising from their hides.

My chest pulsed as I looked down on them, my eyes misting with relief. I felt no fear of their claws, size, or the infernal mana rolling off their bodies, not like I did with Luke’s horde, at least. Instead, for the first time since Fate held me, I felt peace.

A piercing shriek rose above the murmur of the horde, and a flash of blue and gold caught my eye. It rose from the far side of the camp, near the city, and streaked toward me. A bird the size of a large eagle emerged from the light, diving toward us. My soul hummed at its coming, and I instinctively ducked, covering my horns. I felt a touch of embarrassment at the strange impulse and forced myself to straighten.

I shifted as the bird didn’t slow, an uneasy shiver running down my tail. At the last second, its wings flared, and a pulse of blue light brought it to a near standstill. As its claws reached for me, I deferred to my instincts and covered my head again, but it was too late. The bird, made of crystal and glass, snagged my horn, perching with a triumphant caw.

"Hey!" I squeaked, frantically waving my hands at it. "Get off! You’re heavy!"

The bird preened for a moment before, to my surprise, actually listened. It hopped onto my shoulder, then my thighs. It snuggled into my lap, rubbing its head against my chest. I giggled at the cool, ticklish prick of its feathers and ran a hand down its back, smoothing its wings.

"Borealis, is it?" I asked.

It cocked its head, peering at me. One of the many presences inside my soul lit up, filling me with a wave of indignation. I sent back a few memories, accompanied by feelings of disorientation and confusion, as well as relief at seeing him again. The demon returned understanding and settled down again, nuzzling my hand and pleading for me to resume petting it.

The entire exchange happened in a matter of seconds, without a single spoken word. I had the impression it shouldn’t have been that easy, that communicating with memories and emotions wasn’t natural, but the exchange flowed without conscious thought. Thinking back, I’d been communicating with Fable the whole time the same way, except for the times I wanted to emphasize my thoughts with physical words.

The strange phenomenon piqued my curiosity, and I reached into my soul, searching for the strongest infernal presence. I quickly found it and, acting on shadows of a memory from long ago, I shared the sight of the demon horde below with him, the touch of Borealis’s feathers, and my exhaustion from the long journey.

The response was immediate: surprise, relief, then determination. Far away, in the city, a red dot rose above the towers. Like Borealis, it streaked toward me like a comet, leaving a fiery contrail in its wake. But unlike Borealis, it slowed a few hundred feet away, dropping at a respectful distance. As it touched down, a familiar figure emerged from the flames.

"Xiviyah," Fyren said, "You’re here. Are you hurt?"

He came toward me, looking me up and down. I shook my head, but he didn’t relax until he finished his inspection.

"You gave us quite the scare," he said, folding his arms. "And reaching out to me like that... what happened?"

I opened my mouth to explain, but closed it again. There was too much to say, and I was too tired to explain it all right now. He seemed to understand and turned, gesturing to the city.

"I assume you want to see your friends? They were even more worried than I, and didn’t seem to take comfort in the fact that our bond meant you were alive."

"Sari, first. Please," I said.

Fyren’s eyebrows rose, but he shrugged. "Sure, but I’m unaware of where she’s staying. I can have someone look around, if you want."

"It’s alright, Fable knows."

I patted the wolf’s neck, and Fable began to move again. Fyren rose into the air, hovering a few feet to our side as we began navigating the cliffs and valleys that led through the demon horde. The demons remained subdued at our crossing, but countless messages of relief and joy flowed through my mark. The memories and emotions they sent entangled with my own, mooring them like a ship in the harbor. It was difficult to tell where mine ended and the demons began, but the various perspectives gave me a recollection more grounded than my original memories.

It was a little overwhelming at first, but I quickly adapted to the flow, growing comfortable enough to respond to a few I recognized, like Zephyriss and Incinderus. By the time we reached the other end of the horde, communicating with the demons felt as natural as speaking.

When we left them behind, striking out for the city, I found myself sharing all that had happened with Fyren through our bond, experimenting with the unspoken language. It wasn’t just faster but also deeper, with no room for misinterpretation. I could attach feelings with specific memories, explaining not just what happened but how I felt when it happened, as well as how I feel about it now. In only a few minutes, there was nothing more for me to say.

Which was just as well, because it was at that moment we arrived at Brackencliff City.