It could have been days, could have been weeks since he'd stumbled out onto that beach, but none of the voices around him were familiar. He only caught a few words here and there, but each time he tried to respond, to move, his voice died in his throat, his limbs wouldn't respond. He couldn't even blink his eyes open, not when someone spoke, saying something familiar, then again. He concentrated on that voice, trying to make out the word,
"Casteel," that was it, he'd heard that before, but he couldn't remember what it meant, if it meant anything any more. "It must be," that same voice, "Open your eyes," the voice, the man, was talking to him, he had to open his eyes, but he couldn't, he tried, but he couldn't.
"He needs to regain his strength,"
"How? None of us are Atlantian," Atlantian, he knew that word too, that was what he was, an Atlantian, and that other word, Casteel, that, that was who he was, his name.
"My Atlantian ancestry will have to be enough for now," the first voice again, he tried to move, to open his eyes again, perhaps this was another trick, another cruel game, to make him think he was somewhere else, somewhere that seemed safe. He was still trying to move when someone tipped his head back, and something pressed into his mouth, he tried to pull away, but he had no strength, "Come on, Prince, bite," this was familiar too, his body knew what to do, even if his mind wouldn't remember, but when the thing in his mouth jabbed up, into his teeth, his fangs, something started flowing. He drank hungrily, his mind clearing with each mouthful, strength returning to his limbs, he grabbed hold, and bit harder, "Good," was that a note of relief? He wasn't sure he could comprehend anything so complex, but it was, whoever it was, they were relieved. But all too soon they tried to pull away, he held on, he needed this, needed their blood, he wasn't ready, he couldn't let go. Someone else pulled his head backwards forcing him to draw in a sudden breath, the cold air making his eyes fly open. There were three men, in just one small room, one of them wrapping up his wrist in some sort of bandage,
"Welcome back," he blinked, this wasn't the place he'd been in before, this was different, he slammed backwards, hitting a wall, wooden, not stone, this was real, he was out. "Whoa, steady, you're safe here, you're safe." Safe? He didn't know the meaning of the word any more. "Casteel, you're safe." That was his name, these men knew his name.
"Safe?" he whispered, his own voice alien in his ears,
"We want to get you home." Home. He hadn't been home in ages, since he'd failed, failed at something, he couldn't remember what. "Steady," one of them gripped his arm as he tried to stand, helping him to his feet, "Steady," he repeated, "It will take time, my Prince." He was a prince? He was a prince, a prince of a fallen kingdom, he'd been trying to save his people, he'd failed. And he, he wanted to go home, to Momma, to Papa, to his brother. But Malik wouldn't be there, because he'd failed. The door opened, and he stepped outside, guided by two of the men, the third standing silent behind them, the one who'd fed him,
"Thank you," he hated it, his voice, it was so raw, raspy, but he lost all thoughts of anything else when the castle loomed into the sky, that was where Malik was. Tears started to form, slipping down his face, but there was something else, someone else. She'd left him, she'd tried to give him up, she was the reason Malik was there, he hated her, he was glad she was dead, and she was dead, he remembered that much, she was dead by his hand. Casteel was still staring at the castle when the third man started explaining that they needed to leave.
Days later, he still wasn't strong enough to ride on his own, hardly managing to keep his eyes open long enough to hold a conversation, but the men had now been joined by a few others, including another that had offered his blood. It was twice a day that one of them offered to feed him, and he was so tired, so hungry that he never refused, even when they started to seem paler, more tired. Casteel knew he should refuse, but he couldn't, he could barely hold himself back from lunging at one of them and draining them completely, the few mouthfuls here and there were barely enough.
"We're almost there, almost there, then you can drink as much as you need, there's more of us there." Casteel didn't know where, he just knew that he wanted to get there, if he could feed properly, if he could finally escape this monster that the Ascended had made him into.
He hadn't realized that they'd arrived at wherever it was until someone roused him from sleep, helping him down from the horse and half-carrying him to a seat. He leaned back against the stone wall, so different from the last one he'd leaned against, here he was outside, free. Casteel drew in a deep breath, the scent of outside helping, he was out, he was free, he was safe. There were others here, others whose scent drew him in, he lost track of exactly what happened that evening, but he knew there were several scents int he room they'd given him to sleep in, those words ringing in his ears, from blood and ash, we will rise. Casteel. my Prince. Your Highness. He didn't deserve those words, but as he started to drift off to sleep, his mind cleared, more than it had for the gods only knew how long.
This place, a temporary settlement that he'd learned wasn't safe permanently, was filled with people, his people. They all said he had to go, but no-one could be spared to accompany him. He'd fed his fill last night, but he fed again that morning, and ate a full breakfast, bacon, sausages. He spoke to these people, so much that his voice didn't sound so hollow, so foreign, he spoke until it became normal again to do so. He remembered their names, there was the woman called Jess who'd helped him find clothes, and spare one to pack with him, the man who'd first fed him, Edward, who promised to watch the road, to keep him safe, even when Casteel had insisted that he'd done enough. There was the woman called Isabelle who'd given him a map, reminded him of the way home. He had hugged her, unsure of how to do anything else, just needing to show his gratitude somehow.
The horse they'd given him was the fastest, and strongest, not that he had much to carry with him, just the spare clothes that Jess had found him, a bedroll, and a few weapons that they could spare, even having fed, craven were still a threat, especially alone, he would hope to all the gods that they left him alone. Some part of him was sad to leave, these people had helped him when they had no obligation to do so, when anyone who was smart would have left him, and he had no way to repay them. He marked the settlement on the map, if he could, one day he'd bring them home.
Avoiding towns was difficult at times, but no less necessary than it had been at the start, not with word having gotten out about his escape, with anyone and everyone desperate for a few extra coins. If he were found, the Ascended would try to take him back, he wouldn't allow it, he would die first. Still, avoiding towns kept him in the forest, vulnerable, especially when he slept. He'd taken to only sleeping a few hours, then moving on, but it was taking its toll, he'd only been free for a couple of months, he wasn't yet strong enough to truly travel hard, so when he fell asleep that evening, he stayed asleep, his body taking the rest it needed, at least until an unearthly scream rended the air.
The horse reared up onto its hind legs, showing the whites of its eyes as it tugged at the rope tying it to the tree beside where Casteel was stumbling to his feet. He reached for the frightened animal,
"Shhhhh," he muttered, patting its neck to try to calm it. It only took a few moments to pack up the bedroll and to arm himself, but it was a few moments too long, and before he could swing up into the saddle to make a run for it, something launched through the air towards him. He ducked sideways, relying on his instincts to avoid the craven screaming at it lunged for him again. He stumbled on a tree foot, rolling to minimize the impact, but still stumbled to regain his footing, losing precious seconds, and yelped when something slammed into his shoulder, sending him sprawling onto the floor. He stabbed blindly in its direction, wishing he'd been able to get his hands on a proper sword, but the dagger was the only thing he had that would kill a craven, the only bloodstone weapon there'd been in the whole temporary settlement, and they'd given it to him. Now it had saved his life, and he swore that if he made it home, he would make sure that everyone there was brought home, to Atlantia. If he even made it there himself.
The craven screamed as the dagger plunged into its shoulder, still struggling forwards, fangs bared, desperate to sink them deep into his flesh. Casteel didn't think, he just reacted, rolling backwards to his feet, he pivoted, burying the dagger into another craven's heart before ducking and rolling forwards to end the injured one still coming at him. He was too weak for this, already he was panting, tiring, but there were more coming. He would never survive, in his last thought before turning to face his death, he sliced through the rope holding the horse in place, wishing it at least to save itself. He slowly backed away from the craven, forcing them to chase him taking one at a time with the horse's hoofbeats still ringing in his ears.
Craven after craven lunged for him, but one at a time was manageable, at least at first. Gradually, his movements began to slow, and when a second craven lunged for him while he was still drawing the dagger out of another's chest, it crashed into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Casteel cursed as he fell, the craven's teeth clashing by his ear as he twisted out of its grip, the dagger flying away and disappearing in the trees. He reached for it, but the craven landed on his shoulder, pinning him to the ground as it twisted to lunge for him again. He squeezed his eyes shut, this was it, he was never going home, and he braced himself for the sharpness of its fangs, a blow that never came.
Moments after falling, the weight of the craven was ripped off him, and he saw it fly into a tree, its head torn from its shoulders. He stumbled back to his feet, ready to fight whatever had come, but froze when his gaze met a familiar icy blue gaze. He had hardly a moment before the wolven turned to tackle another craven, scattering the last ones, leaving Casteel staring in disbelief, until he turned back, he wasn't dreaming, he couldn't be, the pain when the craven had hit him was real, the scent was real,
"Kieran?" He wasn't sure when he'd started crying, but the tears were flooding down his face now, and he sobbed out Kieran's name again as he sank to his knees on the floor. Within seconds, the wolven was by his side, wrapping a paw around his shoulders, resting his head on the other. Casteel gripped his fur tight, he was real, real. He sobbed again, burying his face in Kieran's fur, holding on as tight as he could, he was never letting go again, ever, he was safe now, truly safe.
Casteel was still sobbing when fur melted away, becoming smooth, brown skin, still sobbing when Kieran lifted his head, meeting Casteel's gaze, eyes filled with tears as he murmured,
"I've got you, Cas, you're safe now," he couldn't respond, could only squeeze his brother tighter, clinging on to him as he sobbed.
Kieran was here, he was safe, and Casteel held on to him as they walked through the forest, in the direction the horse had gone in, finding it grazing not too far away,
"I knew you were out, I just knew, and I knew I had to get to you," Casteel nodded, letting Kieran help him back onto the horse, walking beside them, "It's you and me, Cas. It's always been you and me."