Celeste shivered as she made her way down the soaked path inland towards Rainfelle, her cloak wrapped tightly about her shoulders as she hurried across the sodden ground, thunder rumbling distantly overhead.
It had been mere days since their time on Vanica and the sight of the innocent dead still haunted her, their glossy eyes cast skywards and their scents nearly indiscernible from the stench of rot. They'd departed from the island rapidly after the pyres and few quiet prayers had subsided, the torrential rain that hit the isle shortly after the fires had died killing any remaining embers.
Celeste was fairly certain she knew who had attracted that storm.
She glanced sidelong at Gandriel, his face hidden in the folds of his hood as he kept pace with her, his feet squelching in the mud. He'd been oddly silent since they'd departed Vanica, his eyes shadowed.
Not that she blamed him, she thought as a particularly bright streak of lightning briefly illuminated the path ahead, one's first exposure to the corruption of men and fae alike could crush even the most resilient of souls.
They'd been on the road inland since before dawn and the watery light was now rapidly dwindling, casting the hollows beneath the dripping trees into deep, misty shadows. Celeste had refused to stop and camp for the night, despite the rain - she knew every passing second was time they were giving Lukas to get ahead of them. Gandriel had only nodded his agreement.
Fallon had said she'd wait on the coast as long as she could for their return. If they returned.
The picture the Captain had painted of the slavers was at best gruesome. The demi-fae had warned against their tricks and that they'd be wise to keep their eyes sharp. She'd offered to accompany them but had been shut down by immediately by Vaerek with one sharp look and a shake of his head.
Too risky, the first mate had claimed, stepping protectively in front of the glowering woman who looked primed to give him a piece of her mind for giving her orders. They'll know your face immediately if they see it, Vaerek had chided her, you'll risk everything we've built if you go.
That and that her astonishingly short temper and fat mouth were liable to get them all killed, the stone faced first mate had concluded with, rather bluntly.
Fallon, albeit grudgingly, had conceded.
"We'll stay and search the area," she'd replied coolly, eyes flickering between Celeste and Gandriel. "We've been looking for their main harbor for months. Let's see if we can flush out any of these vessels they've kept so expertly hidden."
With that, they had stepped onto the beach in the dim early morning light and began their trek towards the tiny town of Rainfelle.
Despite the rain, the muddy trail was still dimpled with hundreds of footprints, some booted and some bare. The path wound miles inland, away from the sand and scrub of the coast into rolling, deeply forested hills. Here the trees were clustered tightly, the branches and leaves rustling overhead.
When the downpour of rain that had soaked them within an hour of setting out intermittently slowed, a trickle of thick droplets still splattered down from the canopy, continuously soaking them. No one desiring to travel comfortably or with any amount of ease would venture this way - an ideal path for moving large masses of people without detection.
A path that clever map had shown them on their journey inland.
Celeste took solace in the presence of the deep footprints that remained mostly intact – the group could not be far ahead. Transporting that many people, many of whom were unlikely to move quickly on such a journey, would slow them considerably, and with any luck it would be easy for two fae travelers swift of foot to catch up to them quickly.
At least she hoped as much.
There had been no notable footsteps or scents that had given any indication of Anelisse's presence with the party and it left Celeste's nerves frayed, but the map held firm on their course, so she followed without protest.
She just had to move quickly.
Celeste barely registered the scent wafting past her as she made her way over a particularly clay-ridden part of the road, her boots sinking deep into the sludge. She paused for a moment, wondering if she'd imagined it, that hint of salt and iron woven in amongst the thick smell of rain and sodden earth.
Blood.
Just the slightest tinge drifted through the air, like a snarl in the tapestry of wet forest. Celeste threw out a hand, stopping Gandriel where he had come up behind her as she sniffed at the air trying to discern the subtle differences that were nearly impossible to pinpoint in such a downpour. He cocked his head at her, opening his mouth to ask a question, when suddenly the other subtle scent entangled within the bloody stench registered in Celeste's mind and her eyes flared in recognition.
It was faint, but still discernible: that slight whiff of lavender and vanilla that had clung to Anelisse since they were children. A scent that Celeste knew better than her own.
She motioned Gandriel to the side of the path, where the scent seemed the strongest. The mud there was smudged oddly, different from the regularly dimpled and puddled surface of the main path where so many had passed through. Celeste pushed aside a bush and scoured the ground.
There - barely visible from the torrent of rain, a small set of delicate footprints dug deep in the soil and sodden leaves next to larger, deeper-set tracks. As those the bigger of the two had had to fight to drag the smaller set off the road.
A thrill danced through Celeste's veins as she pushed past Gandriel and shot off the path, following the trail that was rapidly disappearing under the torrent of heavy rainfall. They couldn't have been more than a day ahead of them if the tracks were still visible.
Who had dragged Anelisse off the path? Lukas? And why? It was clear she had fought every step, the thick layer of fallen leaves lay strewn in all directions, the small indentions of her booted feet digging deep in the earth beneath them as though she kicked and screamed the entire way. The slight stench of blood dancing in the twilight air seemed to indicate she had literally clawed and likely bit trying to get away.
A shred of dripping and muddied sky-blue cloth hung caught on a branch, soaked by the rain and seeping earth. Celeste stopped only briefly to snatch the piece of fabric, the exact shade that her sister loved so well . . . that same soft scent was stronger here, coated in terror and . . . fury. Another scent clung to that small bit of cloth as well: wet stone and mud, but blanketed in a thick layer of old cologne . . .
It had indeed been Lukas who dragged her away.
A numbness settled in Celeste as the images flooded her mind of what he had likely tried to do to her sister, had tried to force upon her for his own desires of the flesh.
His own selfish desires and will to spite Celeste for what she had refused him years prior.
She heard Gandriel's sharp intake of breath behind her, the pieces assembling rapidly in his mind.
Dropping the torn fabric Celeste set off down the trail more rapidly now, her heart now bleating in fear of where that tinge of blood was coming from. If Lukas had laid a hand on Anelisse-
If he had harmed her sister Celeste would burn the world down to destroy him, ripping him limb from limb before destroying herself, because without Anelisse she had—
Nothing.
The cold truth sank into Celeste like the rain soaking her as she wound down the path of scuffed leaves and gouged earth, heading steeply into a ravine now roaring with rainwater. She paused, straining her eyes for the nearest sign of her sister, then nearly sent herself tumbling when her foot suddenly connected with something solid, half hidden in the leaves and rapidly gathering darkness.
She caught herself on a tree to keep from nosediving, turning to see what she'd tripped on only to be met with a muffled yelp from Gandriel. "By the Mother . . ."
Glancing down, Celeste drew in a sharp breath when she saw what lay before her, her world freezing and sharpening into a clarity as she knelt to examine the corpse.
The throat was a mutilated mess of flesh, as though whoever had inflicted the wound had done so with fever and vengeance. Familiar eyes glazed over in death as the mouth hung open in a silent scream.
Lukas.
He lay prone, face now splattered with mud and his hand clasped tight around what appeared to be another piece of that sky-blue dress Anelisse must have been wearing.
A panicked breath escaped Celeste's mouth as she took in the scene, new scents now entangled with the corpse and the discarded packs. Fainter, winding tracks led back to the east, towards the trail. Anelisse's scent went with them, now accompanied by steel and leather.
That was fear emanating off Lukas, sheer terror that must have chased him as the life bled from him. It only took Celeste a few moments for the last of the pieces to settle in.
"The slavers they were traveling with must have heard the yelling," Gandriel offered quietly, staring blankly at the wound on Lukas's neck, gaping toward the canopy like the maw of some monster. "So much for business partners."
Celeste stood, slipping the scrap of fabric from Lukas's hand and tucking it into her pack. "His days were always numbered. Anelisse is worth far more to them than he ever was."
"Too bad they got him first." The male dealt a solid kick to the corpse, a wet squelch sounding as he retracted his foot, some flicker of satisfaction in his tawny eyes, "There were a lot of people who would have liked to give that finishing blow themselves, I bet. Myself included."
Celeste looked towards the fading steps that wound back towards the path. "They must have taken her to Rainfelle with the others," she said a bit breathlessly, the blind panic fading as the idea of her sister being sold as a slave came upon her like an anvil. "We've got to get to her now."
Celeste shot off into the darkness like a shadow, following the trail like a lifeline.
Gandriel gave one last solid kick to Lukas's prone form before scampering off through the darkness after Celeste.
The murky lamplights from the inn's windows filtered through the sheets of rain to illuminate the cracked cobblestone road outside where Celeste and Gandriel stood, watching the old wooden sign creak to and fro in the wind.
Cloudhaven Inn.
It was as slimy and rundown as the sea captain had portrayed it, down to the smell of urine still permeating the air despite the continuous downpour and the sensuous but unconvincing moans of courtesans serving their clientele for the night in the rooms above.
"Well, this seems to be the place," Gandriel supplied, curling his lip in disgust as he looked up towards the windows from where the rather forced cries of pleasure were echoing. Desires of the flesh were just that to the male, as natural as breathing and as normal, but to have to make such ridiculous sounds while tending to those needs . . . it was preposterous.
Likely as preposterous as the moronic, drooling fools who were taking pleasure in such falsehoods. It seemed more logical to just sell bread or something more mundane for a livelihood than to have that embarrassment.
He shook his head, refocusing his thoughts on the task at hand before looking towards Celeste. She'd grown silent in their final leg of the journey to Rainfelle. As they'd ventured on the path away from Lukas's corpse they had found various small scraps of that sky-blue fabric, shredded to bits, cast intermittently along the trail like breadcrumbs.
Anelisse had gambled on someone coming after her and the others and had the foresight to leave signs.
It had spurred Celeste into a frenzy, her pace quickening with each small scrap of fabric she came across.
She'd only stopped briefly to pull out the map, to confirm their destination against the trail of frayed cloth, the weight of sister's capture evident in her eyes.
Gandriel couldn't say he'd been upset to see that worthless shell of a human male Lukas dead, though he would have liked to have gutted him himself he thought, as his mind flickered to that small soot-covered doll still tucked safety in his pack, but to see Celeste's worry . . . he was glad they were nearly there.
They just had to make sure they got to Anelisse first, before she was sold off or . . . worse.
"Wait here," Celeste muttered, pulling her hood up further over her soaked locks and turning her attention towards the boisterous noises sounding from the windows, patrons no doubt taking part in revelry for whatever reason that evening. Bawdy tunes echoed into the dark night. "Fallon said they're likely keeping everyone in outbuildings to drive down suspicions, I want to look around and see what I can find."
"And you want me to just stand here?" Gandriel inquired disbelievingly, quirking his head to the side, "What good is that going to do either of us?"
"Keep an eye out," she hissed in response, sliding one of the daggers he'd given her in Marchedor loose, its surface reflecting the murky lanternlight. "Make sure no one follows after and see if you can put that fae hearing of yours to use." Never mind she also had fae hearing—
Celeste glanced briefly towards the inn once more, her brow furrowing in thought, "I doubt they're sharing this little trade business openly, but someone's bound to have a loose tongue."
"And if you get into trouble?" Gandriel retorted, annoyed at being left as a watchdog, hadn't Fallon warned them to be careful? To, he didn't know, stick together? "How am I supposed to come find you then?" She'd already begun to walk away.
"If you hear screaming," she called back drily, her voice barely audible over the rain and lingering moans, "you should probably run that way."
Gandriel snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against a lamppost.
He wasn't the least bit surprised.
Celeste wove her way through the alleyways surrounding the seedy inn, carefully marking the points where the tight paths crossed one another and where hollow, crumbling buildings barely stood against the pounding rain.
Always have an alternative escape route, a foggy voice at the back of her mind lectured, one she had long since put to rest. Know where you are, the path that got you in, and all of the paths that can get you out.
There had been no tracks, no remaining scents in the heavy downpour of the rain that hadn't ceased in the remainder of their travel to Rainefelle, only the small scraps of fabric Anelisse had torn from her dress and carefully left behind.
The remained of the journey had twined through an isolated path with heavily wooded mountains where the weather covered tracks nearly as quickly as they were made . . . an innovative way to move live cargo without getting caught indeed. Too bad her sister was smart enough to plan for that.
A bright pulse of lightning flared overhead as the buildings shuddered with the sound, quaking in their fragile bases.
What had likely once been an array of beautiful brick building and a brimming, rich community, were now nothing more than towering shells of times long past. Times before the Queen of this land had laid waste to her own people in the face of their defiance, Gandriel had told her in the night aboard the Siren days prior.
A Queen whose face and body had withered like a crone's when exposed to the magical waters of the fabled Cauldron. She had been gifted immortality by the kingdom of Hybern, but at a cost.
In her rage she'd demolished everything in her path, wiping countless lives off the earth just to quell her fury at what had been stripped from her.
All fae sympathizers had been executed, without fair trial and without mercy.
Many innocents had died in the onslaught.
It had only been when she'd faced down the legendary warrior Jurian and the firebird queen Vassa that her rampage and treachery had been put to an end. They'd faced her forces with a host of human and fae soldiers alike and had effectively seized her throne.
All those who contested for the title had yielded to the might of Vassa and sworn their allegiance to her.
War had finally ceased in the kingdom thereafter and another Queen, young and untried but kind of heart had been selected to replace her.
Peace had reigned in these lands since.
Other kingdoms and territories had not been as lucky.
Celeste knew that the Wall had fallen over a hundred years prior but she had never realized the extent of the damage, the riots and civil uprisings that many of the lands had faced—many humans had wanted to make peace and trade with the fae north of them and just as many wanted to raise forces to drive them back, to keep them from entering their lands.
It had been turmoil and many lives had been lost, despite countless negotiations and peace treaties, despite the efforts many had put forth to quell the unrest.
Many fae had tried to negotiate for peace between the territories—Gandriel's mother having been an ambassador amongst them representing the reigning houses of Monteserre—but even with those efforts and leaps and bounds of improvement the ties were still strained.
Especially with the disappearance of fae and humans alike due to the slavers. With the Wall fallen, these scavengers had gained the freedom to move between the fae and human lands, picking off those who were weak, alone, or naïve enough to fall into their clutches.
Celeste wondered just what it would take to bring it to an end.
Turning around a corner and lost in thought, Celeste barely noticed the small shred of that now-familiar blue fabric sticking out of the corner of broken door, barely hanging on its hinges. Stopping in her tracks, she reached out a tentative hand and pulled the piece loose. Tossing it to the side, she wasted no time in shoving the door open with ease, the other side barricaded with high crates and barrels, something that might have served as a deterrent to one without immortal strength. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside the roofless building.
Celeste's fae eyes adjusted easily to the deeper darkness inside, but she could still discern only a few angular shapes in the room, likely more empty crates. The building appeared abandoned, the night hiding any potential tracks on the dirty floor. She took a few tentative steps forward, eyes and ears straining for anything out of the ordinary, when she felt it - the slight shift of wood beneath her feet.
She fell to her knees and began running her hands over the splintered floorboards, prying for any loose bits or seams—
Her fingers came into contact with a cleverly hidden seam, barely discernible. Pulling her knife loose she drove it into the seam and pried the wooden panel upwards. It came loose with a small click and easily lifted, revealing an array of cobwebs and descending steps.
A draft of musty air hit Celeste's nose, laced with numerous scents, but one immediately stood out - lavender and vanilla.
Anelisse.