Gemini Angels

GEMINI ANGELS

By: Ramsey Austin-Spencer

2018 Copyright by Ramsey Austin-Spencer

Smashwords Edition

To my youngest son Austin who has the heart of an angel and the soul of a trickster. Thank you for opening your world to me in order to enrich mine.

CHAPTER ONE

Castille’s feathers prickled. The sensation of them ran down the length of the soft white wings as she stretched them. Letting them open up, they reached away from her body and momentarily fluttered. She quickly pulled them back up against her as she glanced around to make sure no one witnessed her anomaly to keep them a secret. From as early as she could remember the wings created problems for her and she didn’t want that; especially now. Right now she didn’t want anyone to notice her and even though she didn’t see anyone around she couldn’t be sure and so she didn’t want to risk letting her guard down when she believed she was so close to finally escaping.

Fear still made her heart move painfully in her chest at the thought of being caught. She managed to make it miles from the castle which imprisoned her since childhood, but in her mind the smooth stone walls, the ornate spires, and the thick tapestries still loomed over her, threatening to pull her back in.

To finally be on the other side of those walls seemed surreal because she barely knew anything else and the idea of what lay outside the castle used to frighten her. Now after moving beyond the familiar and beyond the control of others she realized how those that imprisoned her used the perceived danger of the unknown as a powerful chain to keep her from seeking a way out before today. She broke those chains, but some of the fear they implanted in her over leaving the safety of the castle still remained. She believed danger lurked out here; she just didn’t how much of it she should worry about.

No one expected her to try and run away after all these years, but they should have. She always wanted out, but desperation ultimately guided her out the window of her room where her thin arms held her weight as she hung onto the narrow sill stretching out her legs to try and get to the large branch she watched grow closer and closer to her window with each passing year. She almost believed the glorious tree patiently planned this with her. Only after dangling off the ledge did she realize that if she couldn’t catch the limb she would fall to her death on the rocks shining in the moonlight below her.

She swung her legs out once, then twice, until on the third pass she let go of the safe and solid stone beneath her fingers and clutched for the tree. Her feet balanced momentarily on a thin branch that soon cracked under her weight. Letting out a stifled cry she not only worried about falling, but now she also feared one of the guards circling the castle would hear her and come for her. Either scenario would end her daring escape attempt along with everything else, but her leg caught a larger limb as she began to slip downward and her hands grasped onto a hand full of twigs that steadied her long enough to regain control. Hugging the trunk of the massive tree, she clung there breathing as though she ran for miles rather than moving only a few feet into a tree. After a few moments, she managed to calm herself enough to attempt to go further. Getting back to the window would be impossible at this point, which forced her to commit to her escape, which terrified, exhilarated, and liberated her all at the same time. She really did it; she left the castle, if only by a short distance, but with every minute that passed she made it further and further away, which bolstered her will to keep going.

Clinging to a tree growing up out of the rocks seemed like a dangerous and foolish plan now that she looked back on it, but she was glad she took the chance. She couldn’t exactly put her finger on why, but she began to experience a foreboding sense of doom that crept around the castle as though it looked specifically for her these last few months. Leaving the castle had always been on her mind, but recently something with King Scharmaine changed and he scared her more than he usually did. He plotted something and her name kept surfacing in hushed conversations making her vow not to remain his prisoner simply to find out what he had in store for her.

The servants around the castle acted even more afraid of her than before. She heard them whispering to each other and though they believed their conversations to be discrete, their voices filled the empty halls of the castle with fear. Scharmaine never interacted with her, but now he hovered around the hallways where she lived and stood back in the shadows leering at her with a hungry gaze that made her skin crawl. He terrified her, he always did, but when she heard the King order her chambermaid to lock her in her room and require her meals brought in rather than letting her go to the kitchen, she panicked.

King Scharmaine never showed himself to be a benevolent man and he certainly never offered any kindness to her, so whatever plan he worked on would be all for his benefit without any regard to her. She never received any information on why he wanted her shut away tighter than he previously mandated, but the thought of dying locked away in a room, never seeing or knowing anything else, ended up being more than she could take. She not only wanted to see the world, but she also wanted to be free and she took that chance now. The first step out the window came out of anger and fear, but now that she found success to this point she wanted to keep going. King Scharmaine held her against her will and controlled her since she was a child and she refused to let him take any more from her by locking her in the small room.

Once she climbed out of the tree she made her way out of Caulen and just kept going, but her fear didn't ease like she hoped it would once she got out of sight of the castle. King Scharmaine would be angry and she understood him well enough to believe he’d stop at nothing to get revenge on her for disobeying him. He saw her as property and so she basically stole herself. The thought amused her and she laughed out loud, making her wings once again move as though joining in.

Glancing around her again to make sure no one saw the peculiar appendages protruding from her back, she moved further to the side of the road even though no one passed by her for most of the morning. Her mind continually conjured up the idea of someone jumping out from a bush to confront her and drag her back and every person she passed on her way out of Caulen stared at her as though they knew her secrets.

People noticed her because she was obviously different from other Caulenites. Her hair was so light it appeared to be almost white; her eyes carried an almost translucent blue color to them and her body stood tall and slender, but she also pictured herself as fading away with her colorless appearance. Caulenites were generally light-colored, but her traits made her unique in every respect; then there were the wings. She didn’t want to think about those because no one else she met possessed such things and they made her into a freak, an oddity, and a prisoner. She wasn’t like anyone else, which made her wonder what she was; was she a Caulenite or something else entirely. Thinking about her place in the world made her realize how lonely her life became. Before she ran away people sequestered and feared her because of her abnormalities. She wondered if that would change out here.

Looking down she saw the reddish-brown dirt climbing across her bare feet and toes from walking and it made her smile. She finally achieved some color. She wore an ashen tan-colored cloak, which covered her wings, but her long shapeless dress carried a light cream-colored hue to it, which ended up being as colorless as everything else about her. Though at her age she would be considered a woman, she noticed her body resisted the full curving shape the other girls her age acquired. Just like her color, her body faded away into nothing which enhanced the impression of her being a piece of property rather than a person. At twenty-three, the other girls from Caulen surpassed her a long time ago in their transition into maturity. She observed them from her window as they paraded around the streets of Caulen enticing the men whose heads always turned.

Of course, it didn’t matter what her body did or didn’t do and it didn’t matter if she ever developed into a stunning young woman or not because she wasn’t like the rest of them and they never allowed her to be around any of the people she watched from the castle windows. For most of her life, she never stepped outside the castle walls, but now she found herself wandering out in the real world, yet she remained alone. The irony made a coughing laugh escape her, which she quickly stifled.

In the fifteen years of her being held in the castle, she had plenty of time to think, but out here she found herself contemplating everything that was and wasn’t in her life in a different way. There existed possibilities now and that struck her as something new.

Fear made her run away, but the desire to have an adventure and see the world ate at her since she could remember. She wanted to find out if anyone else like her existed out here. She ached from the missing parts of her life and she needed to put them all together.

A noise brought her to a stop on the dirt road and her heart sent pulsating surges across her chest and back. She didn’t have a solid idea of what to expect out here or how to deal with what came at her and she started to realize her vulnerability. With her breath constricting painfully in her lungs she chided herself for not really thinking this through before she rushed forward in her pursuit to be free. She simply reacted and didn't have the chance to prepare herself before she took off. Without food, money, shoes, or extra clothes she slipped away not stopping to formulate a plan on how she expected to survive. She could very well die out here and she wondered if that would be any better than dying in the castle.

Yes, she thought feeling her determination harden inside her; it was better. The only thing she saw before now which offered any variety in her life came from her view of the harbor and the ocean from her window. From the other side of the castle, she caught glimpses of the shops and people going about their business, but it was a limited view and she didn’t get over there often. She spent as much time as possible at the windows and the servants pulled her away on more than one occasion, but she wanted desperately to experience something more before she died, which she now feared might be sooner than she anticipated.

Although she lived a restricted life in the castle, she did manage to listen to reports of what happened in the world outside of her confined space. She heard of battles that raged outside the city walls and beyond. She heard stories of how they would kill anyone, even an innocent bystander if they got in between feuding tribes. Raising her head a little she sniffed the air. She always carried the ability to sense things others couldn’t, but out here she found it hard to tell anything, especially where she ended up stopping because the stench of past deaths saturated the area. The one thing she did pick up in the air was a battle heading her way soon. Glancing around, she sighed in defeat. The road she traveled became more and more desolate the further she went and now she wouldn’t have time to get far enough away before the battle arrived.

Moving off the road she picked her way through the remains of the decimated rock houses which once filled this area but became rubble under her feet. Ghosts and fully furnished houses lay crushed under the stone since many people didn't get out when the Trefols attacked this Halven border town many years ago. Their corpses now created the foundation for what became nothing more than a meeting place to die. Castille could sense them all and the scent made her nauseous.

Since the initial attack, it became commonplace for the two clans to battle. They claimed to be fighting over the barren useless land, but no matter who won, no one moved in to settle this area. Castille thought perhaps boredom or an odd sense of revenge kept the two at war. Caulen traded with the Trefols because they shared a border plus they offered a product Caulen needed. In exchange for swords and hatchets, Caulen received wood from the forests where the Trefols lived.

Castille recently passed through Trefol land. She didn’t give much thought to which direction she went, but the road closest to the castle came this way, so this is where she ended up. At first, as she traveled through the busy streets where vendors set up shop and people pushed their way past her without any thought, she thrilled with the energy and excitement of being in the middle of something so big. She never got the opportunity to go down in the streets and smell the cooking meats along with the fires and the dirt and all the people who acted so busy with things to do. Experiencing the scene she only witnessed from her window until now made her both sick and elated, but as she neared the edge of the city and saw the cutout areas which once grew beautiful forests, she lost much of the hope she carried when she first started out. The entire thing seemed pointless and the euphoria which originally stimulated her gave way to sadness. Giving the Trefols weapons kept the killing fresh and cutting down all the trees left an ugliness that wouldn’t be easily replaced. She almost regretted leaving her secure prison. Maybe there wasn’t anything out here for her and she foolishly left the only place she ever truly remembered. Maybe King Scharmaine locking in her room would have been temporary, but even now the thought of being confined further than she already was enraged her. She wasn’t a criminal. She didn’t do anything wrong and she didn’t deserve to be forced to live like that. She needed to be free; she deserved to be free.

However, being out on the border between the Halvens and the Trefols at the precipice of a battle she realized how unprepared she was for the ways of the world. This may have been the easiest route out of the city, but she didn't fully understand what it meant to have to go through Halven territory even though she heard others avoided the area unless they hired armed escorts.

The ground shook underneath her and she glanced behind her to see the advance of the Trefols. They were big with the smallest of them standing well over nine feet and each leg measuring twice as big around as Castille’s thin body. Their skin held a light brown and green hue to it and their hair hung in thick limp strands. They resembled the wood they cut up as though they descended from trees themselves. Even though the advancing army only numbered three Trefols they made a huge impact as they marched. Fear made her wings move unwittingly and she cursed them, pulling her cloak closer to her, hoping to keep them controlled. The Trefols wouldn’t purposely kill a Caulenite, but Castille realized she didn’t necessarily look like one, and in the middle of a battle they might hack down anything moving without care.

Darting around the maze of destroyed houses and shops the sharp stones cut into her feet, but she kept moving, hoping to find some escape. Around the corner of a half wall, she stopped, her body waiting for the pain from the long heavy ax the Halven man in front of her held ready. His face appeared hard and deeply creased as he stood taut and crouched in attack mode. For several seconds he didn’t move and she wondered if he noticed her there.

Realizing the man did see her she believed he froze in shock over seeing a young Caulenite standing here in the middle of a war zone. If he possessed the ability to read her thoughts he would find her just as stunned to be standing here. She stared at him in fear, wondering what his reaction would be. She understood a Halven would kill a Caulenite without any reservation because they allied with the Trefols in a roundabout way by supplying them with weapons, but with her ability to sense things others missed she didn’t pick up on any animosity from the man. In fact, she believed the man desired to protect her. Not her specifically, but life. Since he didn’t attack her she could only assume her assessment must be correct and his perceived kindness humbled her.

In here, the Halven growled, kicking the top off a large storage box that must have been abandoned years ago and held nothing in it now.

Staring at the thick, dirty man who stood a good five inches shorter than her, Castille hesitated for another moment wondering what would make someone like him want to fight and possibly die. She wanted to say something and beg him to hide with her, but this is what the man wanted, so shaking the thought from her head she followed his advice and climbed into the box. She never met a Halven before and the man appeared to be amazingly tough. His stature didn’t make him look grand, he stood barely over five feet tall, but his rounded body appeared to be made for brute force with his stout arms holding firmly onto two axes. Halvens came across as being so small compared to the Trefols she wondered how he would ever survive. She didn’t hear many stories about the Halvens other than how they ate their dead and anyone else they killed who passed through their territory and ended up unlucky enough to run into one of them, but she never heard anyone say they could show the compassion this man just showed her and she wondered if he might be as much an anomaly as she was.

She envisioned them in her mind when someone told her of a thick people who wore furs most of the time, although they were so hairy it often became hard to tell where the fur ended and the Halven began. The image in her head didn’t end up being completely accurate, but she believed the description she overheard to be mostly correct as she looked at the squat dirty man in front of her.

The stocky man pulled the lid back over her wooden box and once again crouched down in attack position as the first Trefol climbed over the edge of the outlying broken down wall. The sound of metal against metal as well as screams and growls permeated the box. The ground shook as the Trefols advanced and she covered her ears to try and shield herself from the horrific sounds filtering in to assault her. She didn’t want to look, but she found herself peering out from the tiny gap in one of the slats to see what was happening in the world outside.

The Halven rushed forward and several others also passed by her with their weapons up. Charging at the massive being in front of him, the Halven’s ax moved in to take a chunk out of the tall thick leg. Castille suddenly understood how the Halven’s managed to battle the large creatures as she witnessed how the Halven’s wound forced the tall Trefol to go down to one knee.

The Trefol’s sword swept toward the Halven that wounded him, but the rotund man rolled on his rounded belly missing the swipe. Once again the Halven brought the Trefol even further down to his level by forcing him to attack and before the towering creature could right himself again the Halven leapt on his back burying his hatchet deep into the center of the dark brown neck. The Trefol let out a horrible scream and though it went unnoticed by the men battling around them, Castille once again tried to cover her ears from the sound of death that shattered the air around her.

When she glanced out again two other Halvens joined in and they all went at their enemy, hacking and stabbing while the massive creature swatted and swung at the stout animals clinging to it. She never witnessed anything like this before and she never wanted to again.

Another Trefol came to his comrade’s rescue, piercing one of the Halven’s through the stomach and tossing him off the end of his blade like a rotted piece of fruit, but he intervened too late to save his companion. The original Trefol collapsed to the ground and now that he was down the Halven’s abandoned the dead man and began their work of going after the newcomer.

Castille caught a glimpse of the man who helped her as he hurled himself at the enormous form in front of him. The brutal and daring man failed to cause any damage as he and his ax fell short of a solid hit and landed on the ground where he lay looking up at the massive beast. The Trefol still held the bloody sword that just tore apart the Halven’s associate as he moved toward the downed man with what Castille believed to be a hateful, angry scowl on its face. Because the little man was so round about the middle, as all Halvens were, he didn’t move fast enough to dodge the long sword as it dug into his side pitching him forward face-first into the dirt pinning him to the ground for a moment.

Castille let out a small squeak of fear and disgust. She wanted to break free from the box and run to the man who helped her, but she also desperately wanted to get away from here because every death, every wound, and every painful moment of this terrible battle stabbed at her, nearly killing her. Never would she have imagined people could be capable of such brutality. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be miles away from here, but she couldn’t keep them closed. She needed to see if the man who tried to save her died, so she once again looked out at the devastation and blood strewn everywhere around her.

The Trefol who stabbed the Halven now became set upon by three other Halvens who came at him like rabid Wolverine’s. The Halvens moved in too close to the towering creature for him to react and wield his sword effectively, so the Trefol tried to use his hands to defend himself as he swatted at the vicious round bodies, but his attempts ended up being useless and as soon as he went to one knee Castille understood he wouldn’t get up again.

Off to the side, she saw the familiar Halven as he staggered over to watch as his comrades finished off the enemy that ultimately finished him off once the fatal wound bled him out. His serious set face told her he wanted to extact his own revenge as he lifted his ax and went to help his fellow Halvens tear the Trefol apart.

Castille crouched in the small box crying. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to witness this and she didn’t want to think about what it meant for her hiding in this box while so many died around her. Suddenly she realized silence filled the air. She found that almost as bad as the sounds of pain and anger that had been her companion for the last little while. She wondered if the stranger who sheltered her made it through the carnage, but she didn’t move. She never really experienced fear until now and it consumed her. She didn’t want to only be thinking about what would happen to her; she wanted to worry about the dirty man who concealed her from the perils of being in the middle of a war. It was the first act of kindness she encountered out here and she didn’t want that to be rewarded with death. Thinking about it, she believed what the Halven did for her to be one of the few acts of kindness she ever encountered in her life.

Sweat began to make her wings feel sticky and her breath gave her the sensation of taking over the box and suffocating her. Opening the lid she stood staring at a fairly tall Halven which took up her entire field of vision. He growled in irritation and turned to her with his hatchet rising to take a swipe, but the weapon didn’t make it to her. A Trefol rushed up behind the man in three steps and swung a large mace striking his head, which made it disappear in a spray of bone and blood across her face. She stood shaking as the headless body fell to the ground. The Trefol obviously didn’t care that the Halven planned to kill her or that she wasn’t Halven herself. He pulled the mace back and began winding up to take his next swing at her. She couldn’t move and stood staring up into the beady black eyes that held so much malice it frightened her.

Once again the blow never came as the Trefol howled and went down to one knee. Castille never encountered such violence and hatred as this and she wondered that she didn’t throw up from the vile things surrounding her. The stench of death not only seeped into everything around her, but it also splattered across her face and neck, drying on her smooth pale skin. She became paralyzed with the suffering so thick it caked down over her.

The Halven chopped down on the Trefol’s back making him go further to the ground on all fours. With a glance back to see what was killing it, the Trefol couldn’t turn far enough to catch a glimpse of the stout, dirty man before he buried his hatchet down the center of his skull as though splitting logs.

Three Halvens rushed in, hacking at the already dead man as though death didn’t offer enough to keep a Trefol down. Castille closed her eyes, unable to witness any more of the desecration or loathing that threatened to destroy everything around her. She didn’t know who she should feel sympathy for, or who she should hope would be victorious because both sides proved to be unredeemable at this point.

When silence once again settled in around them, Castille opened her eyes to the new arrivals. They possessed the thick dirty bodies like the other Halven’s she watched with blood caked on their exposed arms and faces from the battle they just finished. The one standing in the back had a deep fresh gash on his face, another’s hand dripped blood from a missing finger and all of them appeared to be nursing some kind of ache. With a snarl, one of the men pushed her to the ground without any effort. They looked at her as though deciding how long to cook her, and from the stories she heard, she believed that’s exactly what they were doing. She looked from face to face, but she didn’t see the man who showed her the box. She thought she saw him here moments before and now wanted to cry out for the man she didn’t know, but who saved her twice.

A Caulenite, the largest of the three grumbled, pulling his bloodied sword. The other two followed his lead and Castille pulled herself up into a ball knowing it wouldn’t help, but unable to think of anything else. She held back the whimper that threatened to seep out of her. She wanted to be brave, but she held nothing of that inside her. She was afraid. She witnessed what these men did to the Trefol’s who came here and she believed they would kill her with much more ease.

Leave her.

Castille glanced over as the original Halven limped around the fallen Trefol toward them. Relief surged through her even though she understood him to be as gruff and violent as the others who surrounded her. His eyes, which recessed into the craterous wrinkles on his face, glanced at her for a moment, but that was enough for her to see he held kindness buried inside him. She thought she should have already known that from his helping hide her, but it warmed her to see it remained after the fight.

She’s a Caulenite, the large man said as though the other Halven didn’t understand. A traitor and a coward. The man looked down on her and his thick lip curled up in disgust. A skinny one to be sure, but I’ll bet we could get enough meat off her to feed a few of us.

Their words made her realize their look really did tell her they tried to decide how long to cook her. Her body turned cold with the thought of others they may have eaten. She wanted to shout out her anger and disgust, but she stayed silent and still because the gruesome display she recently witnessed paralyzed her. She wished she never left Caulen, but here she was and it appeared she may never have a chance to do all those things she dreamed of doing.

You won’t touch her, the Halven told them with a curt nod to indicate he didn’t expect any more discussion of the situation.

What’s your claim? the man asked, leaning onto his sword as though waiting for a long story.

Yeah, Marklin, what’s your claim? another piped in.

I put her there, he said. She’s my charge now. He didn’t relax at all around the men and since Castille learned the history of these people during her time in the castle her stomach churned over the consequences of him once again protecting her because he must understand they’d eat him as well as her if they ended up killing him to enforce their will. Still, from the looks on the faces of the men surrounding her, it became clear they believed Marklin would make them pay if they tried to go after him because they didn’t make a move against him.

You don’t look so good, the obvious authoritarian of the group observed, rubbing his thick black-bearded chin with the back of his hand.

You can go now, Karl; and take your men with you. Marklin didn’t act impressed by the man’s perceived leadership.

You defy me? the grungy man asked as though offended. I am the Tribal Chief now. You do as I say.

Marklin snorted. The leader of a doomed race, he said as though to himself as he shook his head. I don’t recognize your authority any more than anyone else, Marklin countered. We all live by our own code of survival.

Karl smiled, showing his blackened, imperfect teeth. You’re mortally wounded, he said not masking his pleasure at the comment. The girl will be ours before tomorrow.

Marklin didn’t respond but stood his ground making the others shuffle slightly before they wandered off. After they left Marklin looked down at Castille. They’re right, he said peering under his furs at the wound which dripped blood down onto his matching shoes. You should flee. I’ll be dead by morning and they’ll be back for you.

Castille got to her feet. The blood from the wounds she received while running across the sharp rocks dried on them and they moved stiffly from the cuts that would take a while to heal. I’m glad you made it through the battle, she told him.

He creased his eyebrows in confusion as he stared at her, but then his face softened and he smiled at her, but unlike the other man he didn’t show his teeth. Don’t go through Halven, he warned her in a fatherly tone. They won’t think twice about killing you.

She wanted to ask why he helped her, but she didn’t because he needed her help and not questions. Let me help you, she said.

He didn’t protest or complain which made her grateful. In a way, he scared her because she saw what he was capable of and she didn’t have the ability to stand up to him if he didn’t end up being as kind as she believed. Sucking in a deep breath, which made him wince, he gave her a nod. People make their own choices, he said as though speaking to himself again. I gave you the option to get out.

He turned and looked at her for a moment and she liked it. She saw him as ugly at first, but he held a softness about him that she classified as warm. I understand what I’m doing, she told him, but even she didn’t believe that.

It might be nice to have someone sit with me for a moment before I pass on. Been a long time since I had company, even if you are a Caulenite.

Moving slowly and dragging one foot he led her down the road to a small hut nestled in a clearing surrounded by auburn-colored Hayburnt bushes. The thick foliage stood about five feet tall, sheltering the mud and stick dome she assumed to be his home. She couldn’t see anything beyond his little area, but she heard people talking in the distance and she saw smoke from fires around the area. When she finally did leave here she’d be walking by dozens of Halven homes and the chances of getting past them alive seemed slim. Whether she left now or later didn’t matter, but she didn’t want to think about that. Marklin was right; it would be nice to have company for a change – for both of them.

Can you start a fire? he asked and Castille shook her head, unable to look at him. Marklin laughed with mild amusement before he sighed. Hand me that wood and I’ll get this going before I get us some dinner.

She wanted to participate and was embarrassed that she didn’t have any skills to offer, so she gathered some wood to help make the fire and after Marklin had it burning strong he shuffled over to the edge of the clearing and after a short time, he returned with a dead rabbit swinging from his hand. With a growling nod, he skinned it and helped Castille put it on a spit. His slow movements told her how much pain he experienced and she admired his determination to keep trying until he died. Castille wanted to give up after just seeing the battle, so this man’s courage inspired her. She still didn’t approve or agree with what they did, but like he said ‘everyone can make their own choices’ and she couldn’t say what in Marklin’s life drove him to this point. Still, it made her sad. No one should have to live with the kind of violence and death she just witnessed.

Why don’t you eat the Trefols? she asked, afraid of the question because no one should have to ask such a terrible thing, but her curiosity overwhelmed her.

Marklin smiled down at the fire. Nasty bastards, he said. In life and death.

Once the rabbit started cooking she moved over to sit in front of Marklin. He glanced at her with curiosity and as she reached out to him he pulled back.

It’s all right, she told him moving forward again and putting her hand over the wound on his side. The pain came at her immediately. She expected it, but it still made her lose her breath. It’d been a while since she healed anyone and she wondered how she could have forgotten the pain that came with it. With forced determination she moved to the leg which she could tell was broken. He lived through a lot of battles. Scars and misaligned bones composed the entire make-up of his body. She could help him, she thought; she needed to help him. It scared her, but she owed him her life. All it took was touching him to heal the damage; old and new and she could do that. Of course, it never ended up being that simple. She didn’t want to cry out, she wanted to be as brave as Marklin when he received the wounds, but she wasn’t.

Marklin didn’t move. He didn’t speak. When she pulled back he stared at her. She waited for the questions and the fear or the awe, knowing she wouldn’t be able to speak through the anguish to tell him anything, but Marklin didn’t do anything others did. He didn’t act stunned by his miraculous recovery and he didn’t gasp at the blood which now covered almost all of Castille’s body

The cuts on her feet started bleeding again. The wound, which once tore open Marklin’s side now opened up in her stomach. Bones throughout her body snapped. Her eyes cried blood-red tears as the damage tore across her. Whimpering, she curled up in a small ball as she tried to control the waves of nausea that came with the pain. The white glow which always surrounded her turned to gray. She prayed he wouldn’t try to touch her and he didn’t.

Slowly the wounds closed, the bones realigned and the pain subsided as the energy moved the injuries through her and out with the blood tears she cried. Once she purged the damage from her she sat up, but a weak and shaky sensation still controlled her. Marklin sat waiting with a pail of water. Once again she was grateful for this tender caring man who probably killed at least two Trefols recently without any remorse.

First she drank, then she cleaned up the blood. By morning there wouldn’t be any scars left to show what happened to her, but for now, she didn’t want to feel like the freak she believed herself to be. She saw herself as an abomination and she only hoped that Marklin didn’t see the wings which remained tucked under her cloak. Sometimes in her agony, they stretched out as though they could take flight and help her leave her pain, but she couldn’t fly. She’d never been able to fly. The wings amounted to nothing more than added misery.

Thank you, he said simply. Going to the spit he pulled off the rabbit which cooked the whole time she went through the healing. Are you hungry?

Castille felt almost giddy through her fatigue. Someone who didn’t gawk at her or make her feel like a monster. This man helped her in ways he would never understand. He saved her during the battle and then made her feel normal after. She wanted to stay here forever, but inside she understood that wouldn’t be possible. Bad things happened around her and the only good thing that happened to her recently she ended up leaving back in Caulen. Meros was the only other person she met who didn’t react to her as though she were some kind of a demon.

Thinking about him soured her good mood. One of the other reasons she ran away was because being shut away meant King Scharmaine also shut her away from him and that became unbearable. As she climbed out the window her sorrow over not being able to take him with her or to tell him goodbye almost made her turn back, but the sensation of missing him oddly faded the