Chapter twenty — witch born freak

Thalia’s POV

I had just crossed to the other side. It was the popular rouge woods. A place crawling with lawless wolves of the sorts. Rejected, banished and some hiding for their lives....like me.

The mist clung to my skin like memory. I remembered every minute I spent in the direlands—the pains, the trainings and my family. But now I must bury those memories deep within me. I must never mention that place until they needed me.

My cloak shimmered as I moved then I remembered how I got it. The night before the solemn gathering to send me off. Agalaya came into my room with a cloak in her hands and woke me up gently.

"This is my final gift to you." She said in hushed tones.

"This will hide your scent, your power, your presence. But not your choices," she said, her voice low. “And I have an advice for you. Do not let your flame burn too brightly. Not yet. Many dangers awaits you. Many wars that you're not ready for yet.”

I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight, as if wrapped in thread woven from grief and pain

"I won’t fail you," I promised.

She didn’t answer. She only touched my shoulder, like a silent blessing and then left as silent as she came to me.

I heaved a deep sigh and took a step forward. Overcome by the scents of rogues, people going and coming like I didn't exist and with that, I left behind the only place that had ever truly protected me.

The rogue lands seemed colder than I remembered. No green grasses, just trees that are barely enough to hide your frame. In this woods I felt exposed but I was consoled by the fact that no one noticed me.

Every night I moved like a shadow. Avoiding roads, sleeping beneath trees, bartering when I could, stealing when I must and traveling as fast as I can. I kept my cloak drawn close, my head hung low and the weight of the world pressed upon my shoulders, but I didn't let it break me.

One night, I was traveling in my wolf form. Nobody disturbed me or noticed me till I saw a town nearby. It was a rogue village filled with old buildings and many old people. I turned into a human and walked until I found a market.

I slipped in-between them. I pulled down my cloak and offered to help an old woman carry her wears. Then I sat quietly in her stall and watched wolves peddle charms and poisons and blades. Then my heart started to beat harder. I could feel the fire in my bones but I remembered the lessons.

Concentrate. Focus. Breathe.

I listened deeply, calmed myself and listened. But the things I heard were enough to make my blood boil.

“They’re offering five thousand Moon coins for her capture,” a man muttered to his companion.

“More if she’s alive.” another added.

“They were just here to see the leader.”

My blood froze. Who were they looking for? I steadied myself to listen again.

“They said she rose from a pyre. Some witch-born freak.”

“She’s still breathing?”

“She won’t be for long.”

“They came from greenwood.” that was the last thing I heard before I snapped. I gave a low growl and jumped up abruptly. The old woman looked at me and shook her head.

I edged closer to look at the next stall. On the table beside them lay a worn sketch. The lines were rough—my eyes too wide, the hair scorched at the ends—but it was me. Me enough to make my hands shake.

I turned and left the market behind, heart pounding. They were looking for me. They must have found out that I survived but how?

I was scared but I didn't let the fear overcome me. I had to keep moving until I was far beyond their reach. So I kept moving. I avoided the roads and kept to the bushes. I doubled my pace and kept moving. Slowly and silently.

Three nights later, I saw them.

I’d veered off the makeshift path and found refuge in a forest, thick with moss and silence. But the scent hit me first. It was Greenwood.

I dropped low and pressed my body to the ground. I held my breath and waited for them to pass.

Four soldiers in familiar armor moved between the trees. The same armor that I scrubbed when it was dirty and stained with blood. Bow they've come to hunt me. They scanned the undergrowth with their blades drawn. Then one of them paused and lifted his nose.

I panicked. Then I crawled forward and found a tree with strong limbs. I climbed silently until the leaves swallowed me whole. My heart thundering in my ears.

Then it happened. A twig broke and drew their attention. One soldier’s head snapped upward. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer clutching his sword in case of emergency.

Then something saved me or rather someone.

A branch snapped in the distance. Then the bushes ruffled. The soldiers spun.

“Over there!” and then they ran towards the sound.

I clung to the branch, breathing roughly and trying to steady my breath. I climbed down when the forest returned to silence—when I was sure that the soldiers were gone—one shaky limb at a time.

I wanted to leave but screams and growls of pain stopped me in my tracks. I was pretty sure he was the one that saved me from the soldiers and I couldn't just leave him to be at their mercy. I had to do something. I carried myself lightly. I moved up with the wind from the lessons I learned with the wind wolf. And then I stopped at the top of a tree where I could easily watch them.

A rogue, lean and scarred was being beaten by the soldiers. So I made the grasses at their back burn. It wasn't much but enough to draw their attention. They left him there and left, commanding him to put of the fire.

He was bloodied and beaten to stupor. He stood up with a wince and with great difficulty. I came down quietly and walked towards him after the soldiers were gone.

“What are you doing here? I was beaten to save you,” he said in great pain.

“I came to help. Thank you for helping me but I couldn't leave you to die.” I replied

“I don't have anything to leave for.” he replied in great sadness.

“Don't say that.” I replied as I went to support him. He wanted to say something but I stopped him.

“Let me help you. Please.”

He showed me to his house and I helped him clean his wounds.

Finally, he spoke, “My name is Rorik. You can call me rik.”

“Why didn't you fight back? You look like you can knock someone out.” I replied but he didn't say anything for a long while. Then he spoke.

“I used to wear that armor too,” he said, nodding toward the direction the soldiers had vanished. “But I left when they burned a girl alive for being different.”

I didn’t move.

His eyes lingered on me for a second too long. “You remind me of her.”

I remained quiet.

“You heading toward the kingdom?”

I shaked my head. “Away from the kingdom. To the Lycan kingdom.”

“Not exactly a safe place for we wolves.” he replied. Then continued.

“Their pride, their powers, their hatred and disgust for werewolves...but since you've made up your mind, don’t take the roads,” he said. “They’re being watched. Every pass, every village. They expect someone like you to move fast. You won’t make it unless you go where they won’t follow.”

I gasped. “You know who I am?”

“Your mother was my queen. How would I not know you when you have her face.”

I shrugged. “You're young why did you say you have no reason to live?”

He bowed his head in pain and regret. “I couldn't protect the one thing I was supposed to protect. Since then I've lost my purpose.”

I had more questions to ask but I didn't. Instead I asked.

“Where’s that?”

He pointed west.

“Through the Devil’s Cleft. It's the land of the witches. No patrol ever goes there. No one has ever crossed the river that divides the lands. Legends have it that no one has ever crossed that river and lives to tell the story.”

I stared at the fire, thinking.

He leaned forward. “You're still going to go won't you?”

I nodded.

“I’ll take you halfway. After that, you’re on your own.” he said sadly

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Debts. Maybe I believe in second chances.”

Maybe I did too. We rested that night and I helped treat his wounds and then we traveled together for three days. Rorik knew the land well. He knew where to step, what plants to avoid, which paths were likely to collapse underfoot. We travelled silently, saying very little to each other.

The night before we parted, we camped on a cliff that overlooked the valley below. I saw the land stretched before me and that was when I knew that this is my path. I would cross the rivers, climb the mountains to make sure I get to the Lycan kingdom no matter the danger that laid in wait.

“It’ll get worse before it gets better,” he said, tossing a stone over the edge. “You sure you want to do this?”

“I have to” I replied.

He studied me for a long moment. Then he pulled something from his belt—a blade, slim and sharp, etched with rogue symbols along the hilt.

“I am now a rogue. We don’t serve kings,” he said as he handed it to me. “We survive.”

I took it, fingers curling around the cool metal.

“Thank you.”

He nodded and stood.

“I go east. You go west.”

With that, he walked into the dark, leaving no trace. I walked down the cliff alone. And headed west. Towards the river.

I didn't stop walking until I saw the river in sight, then I felt it again. That presence watching me. It was like a strange spirit. No scent but a strong aura. The one that had watched me once before—before I got to the direlands. It wasn't here to hurt me. So I kept walking till I got to the rocks beside the river.

Another territory, but I'll bravely cross into it.