Her voice rang in her ears and left a strange echo. No one answered. None of the shadows moved behind the windows. No birds shied away from the sudden disruption to their silence.
Naavah Ora did the only thing she could think of.
She went home.
She pulled the sleeves of her shirt over her hands and fingertips and shoved the door open with her elbow. She wanted no part of the corruption on her skin lest it claimed her after all. Doran and Levi didn't know what to look for in the forest, and Ash was in Alt Võina. Neither of them would be able to finish this if she died.
Bile rose in her throat at the unnatural sight. Every surface of her once beautiful home had been darkened. She leaned against a kitchen counter to steady herself, but the room kept spinning. She grabbed the first thing she could find, and drew back in shock when she realised her fingers were exposed. Sweat broke out on her forehead. Her legs caved. She sank to the floor, and threw up.
"Ora?"
A desperate sob escaped her throat. "Grandmother." She jumped to her feet and steadied herself on the counter in the brief moment of dizziness that followed. "Where are you?"
"In your room, sweetheart. Come here."
Naavah Ora bolted across the kitchen and threw open the door to her old room. The sight of her bed and her few belongings claimed by the corruption sent her into another bout of dizziness. Her possessions, however, paled compared to her grandmother.
Bloodied. Beaten. A broken heap on the floor.
She looked nothing like the strong woman Naavah Ora remembered.
"Oh, Ora. It does my old heart good to see you well and alive."
"I shouldn't have left." The spirits wanted her. They would have found her no matter where she entered Dunhă.
"Yes, you should. I'm glad you left in time."
Cold dread chilled her. "You knew. You knew this would happen, and you sent me away regardless."
"Not regardless, Ora. Because of. I needed you safe."
Naavah Ora sank down next to her grandmother. She didn't want an argument to be their last shared memory.
"What happened?"
Her grandmother reached out for her. Naavah Ora leaned in until her grandmother cupped her face in her bloodied hand.
"You already know, don’t you?"
"The spirits came. They killed everyone." She didn't ask about her mother. The spirits were thorough, and they didn't take prisoners.
"I'm sorry, child. I've held on as long as I could."
"No. You'll live."
She was lying. Her grandmother couldn't survive this. Her dress was stained with blood, none of the crisp white left amongst the dried brown.
"I won't, child. Hush now, sweetheart. I am old. I have lived longer than most elves do these days. I'm grateful for the time we've had."
"But—"
"Don’t argue, Ora. It doesn't become the new leader of our family."
Her throat constricted. "There's no family left to lead."
Beneath the blood and the pain, her grandmother smiled. "There will be. Other elves have survived. You will unite them."
"There are people better suited to this than I am."
"You are the last Suf’afir, are you not?"
Her eyes burnt. She nodded.
"Then it’s you they need, Ora. Do you know what you need to do?"
"Yes. I need to get to the old temple of the gods in the Verdaan forest."
"That's right. And you will need to take this." Her grandmother fumbled with one of the pockets in her dress. "Help your old grandmother out, dear?"
Naavah Ora pulled out a small coin, except it was unlike any currency she'd ever seen.
“It’s one of the artefacts your friend Doran brought here. You will need it."
Naavah Ora placed her hands on her grandmother's abdomen. There were so many wounds, she didn't know where to start.
Her grandmother pushed her hands away, but there was no strength behind it.
"Don't waste your energy, Ora. You will need it."
"I can't just let you die."
"You have to, Ora. Be strong. Be strong for what's to come." When her grandmother’s eyes didn’t open again, Naavah Ora let her tears fall. There was no one left to see her weakness now.
Naavah Ora kissed her forehead. "Ithrean welcome you in her home."
She'd make sure there was a home to go to. The thought of her grandmother turning into a corrupted spirit and killing another elf elsewhere sickened her. She wouldn't allow it.
She got up and stepped outside. Even the air wasn't enough to comfort her. It wasn't fresh or crisp or clean.
Naavah Ora took one last look around her old home. She wouldn't return. She had no reason to. Everyone she’d known, everyone she’d loved, was dead.
A deep, guttural scream escaped her throat and filled every dark shadow of the village. She hoped the spirits heard her. She hoped they knew she was coming for them. It was time she took the fight to Ceallach.
Perhaps that’s a good thing. The world has changed since our day, and gods no longer have a place in it.
Chapter 60
Doran
“What do you want to do when we’re done here?” Doran asked. Levi was sitting next to him overlooking Naavah Ora’s village. The corruption had turned it into something beyond hope. He doubted Naavah Ora would find what she’d come for, but it was good that she was going alone. Goodbyes like this were meant to be private.
Levi kept his eyes focused on a point behind the village. “What do you mean? We’re going into the forest, aren’t we?”
“I mean after that.”
The first time Doran had come here, he’d walked into the forest knowing about its dryads and its dangers. Out of all the forest’s predators, poisonous leaves included, the dryads were the most persistent. Still he’d walked into it, hoping to at least get hurt. Hoping that someone or something would finally put him out of his misery.
But Rhys had died so long ago, and he was tired of making amends.
This time would be different. Maybe Levi was right; maybe he no longer needed to make amends for a death that wasn’t his fault. Maybe he never had to. Wasn’t he owed a break by now? All these years he’d believed the voice in his head demanding payment for what he’d done to be Rhys, but Doran had listened closer more recently and knew it was his own voice punishing him. Rhys didn’t want him to suffer. Rhys had been old enough to know what they’d done was stupid. His death was his own fault as much as it was Doran’s. Neither had wanted him to die.
When he walked back into the Verdaan forest, Doran would be careful. He didn’t want to throw his life away anymore.
Somehow, wanting to live made the world a more dangerous place.
Levi shrugged, and pulled Doran out of his thoughts. “I’d like to go to Hjeva. Maybe my parents went back. I don’t know if they’d still recognise me, but I want to try.”
It wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping for, but he couldn’t blame Levi for wanting to go home.
“I might go to Ceidir. There’s something I need to do.”
“Or you could come with me.”
Doran looked at Levi, really looked at him. The incredible red of his hair, the few freckles on his cheeks. That hopeful look in his eyes. If Doran went with him, he could make sure Levi was safe. Doran studied the fine scars around Levi’s shoulders and around his collarbone. His suffering was forever marked into his skin, like punishment. Like a seal that marked him as their property.