Then abruptly, the raven stops.
Something heavier than silence befalls the small cottage, making my ears ring for entirely new reasons. Thoroughly exhausted from the pain, I rest there, my forehead pressed against the cold, slick floorboards.
At the same moment I realize the reason for their wetness, the blood I must be laying in, the floorboards rumble against my forehead with the slow rhythmic beat of footsteps.
I jerk upright, daring to look to see what horror is approaching me, but my eyes meet the demon man’s, our noses almost grazing each other. He is exactly as I remember him: a human face with darkness creeping up the side of him.
I fumble for my dagger, finding the hilt empty. When I glance back up to him, he’s grinning, sharp teeth stained with the blood of my parents.
The creature’s mouth unhinges, and just as he sinks his teeth into my collarbone and tears me apart…
My eyes burst wide. Fox stands over me, her hands pushing against my collarbone to wake me.
“Come on. We’re being summoned,” she says, scowling at me with concern. “Gods, I thought you might be dead. You’re impossible to wake, you know that?”
Bleary-eyed, I rub my face and try to sit up. There is a bundle of black leathers at the edge of my bed.
“Courtesy of the Shadow Crusade,” Fox says, indicating to her own dark garb. “What do you think?”
Yawning, I nod. Bells toll somewhere in the distance and I wonder if they are to thank for the awful raven in my dream, as much as Fox’s hands are to thank for the pressure still sinking into my chest.
Eager to break my cold sweat, I throw the blanket over the edge of the bed and swing my legs over. Silver is already gone from the room, her bedsheets tucked neatly under the mattress. Meanwhile, Fox hobbles down the center of the room, trying to squeeze her foot into her last boot.
“Come on! We’re going to be late.”
“Late for what?” I ask, still feeling groggy and disoriented from my fitful rest.
The dream had felt so real, and I wonder how many more will follow now that I’ve entered this line of work. Will I be plagued by every demon I encounter, or just the ones who wear human faces?
“For the first day of training, now come on. I can’t be arriving without you. Who knows what that demented friend of yours would do?”
It takes me a moment to remember who she’s talking about, the memory of my night with Crusader Eparah in the Blighted corridor too fresh in my mind. But slowly I’m able to drag the memories back up to the surface. “You mean Dimitri? He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
She levels me a look that says she highly doubts that. “Wasn’t he a butcher?”
I wince. “Well, he wouldn’t hurt a Crusader, anyway.”
“Let’s not find out,” she says.
Fox marches back to my bed, grabs the clothes laid out for me, and shoves them into my arms. I make quick work of slipping into them, cramming my feet into my boots as soon as she hands them to me. My shoes aren’t even tied, and my cloak is only half on when she drags me out of the room.
“What time is it?” I ask as another yawn vacates me. “And where are we going?”
“I already told you. Those bells? That’s the sound of the start of the rest of our pitiful lives. Everyone in the compound—be it Crusader, initiate, or even a Senator who’s come to visit—that bell is a call to congregate.”
“How do you know all this?” I ask, barely keeping up with her. My feet catch on a section of the rug where it’s bunched up, but fortunately her grip tightens, catching me before I fall entirely.
She shrugs, smiling over her shoulder. “Because some of us were awake for breakfast when we were told what the day would look like.”
“I missed breakfast?”
She nods.
“What else did I miss? What did they say? What will we be doing today?”
“Today we start our training as Crusaders,” Fox says as we round the next corner.
She collides into someone’s broad back. Even as I crash into her the moment after, even as my face is buried in her hair, it would be impossible to mistake Güthric for anyone but himself. He barely budges, hardly even seems to notice the two of us as we peel ourselves off him, joining the others who have bottlenecked at the door ahead as they try to file out of the castle.
While we wait, I start to recognize my surroundings, the wide staircase, the colorful painted windows that cast vibrant clouds of color onto the wooden planks beneath us, the vaulted ceiling of the foyer where I last saw my cousin Alphonse. Upon arriving, I haven’t had much time to think about him. After shuffling to our rooms and then to lunch, and then stumbling onto the Blighted corridors, once I made it back to my room yesterday afternoon I didn’t have the energy to do anything but sleep.
But now I think about him. If today is to be the start of our training, I have no doubt who will be present to ensure the experience is as miserable as possible for us all, but me especially. Alphonse has always been fond of making me feel like the measliest worm in the lowest, deepest earth.
Then again, I suppose I should’ve known this was coming. The moment I saw him in the town square, I should’ve been preparing for what it would be like to be under his command. And yet, still I falter.
As the crowded hallway depletes, the denizens of Nigh flooding into the courtyard, I stand utterly immobile. I stare through the great doors even after Güthric and Fox have gone through, long after the stragglers dart out into the open air. I can’t help but wonder if I can really do this.
“You’re not mageing-out on me, are you?”
Dimitri’s gruff voice echoes down the stairs like molasses drizzled over bread. It soothes me instantly, calms every last one of my quaking, uncertain nerves.
I turn around to watch him descend, and prepare a retort that will continue to lighten the mood, but the words fall silent on my lips at the sight of him. My heart starts skittering erratically again.
It’s only been a day—only been a few hours since I last saw him, and somehow, something in him has changed. It’s not the butcher’s ward, orphaned and powerless, who walks down the steps to come to my side, but a new man, one of intent and purpose. His green eyes cling to mine like ivy to trees. His gaze wraps around me until I am completely enveloped in his newfound confidence and rendered speechless.
A small quirk of a smile plays at his freshly shaven lips. “What?” he asks.
I balk at him. “Look at you! You’re completely…you’ve changed.”
Up this close, I can finally see that it’s not just an internal transformation, but a physical one as well. The thick, golden brown mat of hair that usually rests flat upon his head has been washed, brushed, and even trimmed. The sides of his head have been shaved, leaving only the top of his scalp covered. On most people, it might’ve looked ridiculous or even juvenile, but on Dimitri it made him look all the more militant and assertive.
“You cut your hair,” I say, my eyes still bulging and adjusting to him. “Like, a lot of it!” I reach up for his chin, pulling him close to the inspection of my eye before whining. “Aww, still refusing to let your chiny-chin-chin hairs grow out?”
He shoves my hand away with a scowl before stroking the smooth skin proudly. “Never. I’m filthy enough without a food trap dangling from my face, thank you.”