At first he thought that scummy doctor was behind him and had been waiting till he was far enough to drag him back but the boy's eyes followed a long black feathery hand quite a height upwards.
An avian Dremin beggar loomed over him, its long cracked beak hidden beneath a white birch mask. It had smelled his emotions
The Dremin was black like most Dremin and thin as a twig. It tightened its grip around the boy's shoulder as its red eyes followed the boy through the mask with a menacing intensity.
"Spare some." The Dremin spoke in perfect high loci. Its voice however was high pitched and irritating, a sign that it hasn't fed in a long while.
The boy would have obliged on a better day, gods know he had ample of emotions to spare, but he had to leave before anything caught up to him.
'At least they find me delicious...or maybe that's worse...' The boy mused as he tugged his shoulder away but the Dremin didn't budge which annoyed the boy.
"Let go!" The boy shouted but the creature almost obsessively drew closer. "Let go!" The boy shouted again drawing a crowd which spurred two constables to come over and check the commotion.
One was a half-sylvan, the other a human. They strode over in iron and leather armor marked with bright yellow and black—the colors of the Free States of Mercia. Their colors which contrasted with the bleak shades of irons and coppers of the undercity usually were enough to break up most gathering.
Indeed the crowd dispersed but the Dremin was too hungry to recognize the smiling constables who approached slowly.
"Is the demon bothering you kid?" The human of the two spoke with a raspy voice. A smug smile and yellow teeth matching the colors of his clothes.
"No…The Dremin and I were just talking…Nothing to see here." The boy spoke up with a stutter. He hated talking, especially to these kinds of people.
"Focus Randall…can't you see the boy is all hurt and the fowl is taking advantage of him. He's probably too afraid to speak up." The half-sylph stood a foot taller and had those pointy human ears characteristic of the half breeds. He pushed the boy towards his partner and approached the Dremin with a sadistic glare.
"Watch kid…that's how they learn." The human constable made the boy look as his partner grabbed the revolver from his waist. It was a standard-issue Mercian Ironwing, a six-shot revolver with brass plating. The barrel was engraved with a hawk's symbol, now stained with grime from years of use. A simple, reliable weapon more often used to keep the undercity's denizens in check than to stop any real threats.
He whipped the classic issued weapon by the blunt side and hit the creature with it again and again. The Dremin whimpered but didn't speak up. It was better it didn't. Whatever it said would only end up aggravating the constables more.
The boy watched as the black feathers trembled with each strike, the worn-out mask cracking bit by bit until bluish blood splattered onto the constable, driving his hand with disgusted anger.
"Causing others trouble again…how useless." Regret broke the boy's trance with something he couldn't refute. He caused this and he had to fix it somehow. The boy pushed the hand that held him and grabbed the other guard by the leg.
"Kid don't make this more complicated…we're just teaching the thing a lesson."
"He didn't do anything wrong!" The boy shouted back. He knew what he did was useless, heck if it was any other day he would have watched by the side and scoffed at the stupidity of this fiasco, but his mind was in chaos. He needed to quell the guilt and…
The guard hit him across the face. "Randall…I think the boy ran away without paying his medical bills." The guard winked at his partner who held the boy down. Just as he was going for another swing a warm voice interrupted the two.
"He's my charge constables." The two guards followed the familiar voice to a mask wearing woman. They scuffled to stand upright and moved to the side.
"Your-your witchness…he-he was getting in the way."
"Well, I'll apologize on his behalf and assume this matter is settled." This was the last thing the boy heard before everything faded to black again or at least he wished it did because regret always had to have the last word.
"So close…should've been selfish…you'd be free now…free to die you decrepit thing."
----------
It was spring again. There he was reading a book under the shade of the garden trees. He enjoyed reading fiction recently. He couldn't remember what the book was about, nor did it matter because soon he found himself facing a child half his height.
The child was…who was he again? His features were blurred but something told him to envy the child who was holding his hand out to him. With reluctance, he grabbed the hand and his surroundings changed to the insides of a carriage filled with more blurred visages. One told him to hate, one to love, and one to fear. They murmured amongst themselves while he watched, ostracized from their inner circle.
He thought about feeling sadness, but his emotions were numb to their machinations, and even if he were to give into the situation a sudden jolt rocked the carriage sending it flying. Upon impact, the world shifted again to a dark bloody cell where he hung from the wall.
He remained up there for a long…long time until the chains rusted, and the taste of blood overcame his senses. The boy was finally free. He stumbled toward the iron door of the cell, which was battered and clawed beyond recognition, barely holding the darkness back.
The silence beyond the door invited him to escape but instead, he stayed inside this little haven and huddled in the corner. In response, the darkness grew alive and echoed screams and moans, some even calling the boy's name. It grew till it swallowed everything except the murmur that echoed over and over.
"Remember…the…promise."
With a gasp that echoed fear and frustration, he woke up from the nightmare that had haunted his sleep for as far as he could remember. He tried to recall the events of the nightmare, but his mind refused, no it begged him to stop his pursuit of memories. Relenting to the whims of his subconscious he turned around to examine his surroundings.
He was in the same bed he had escaped from not too long ago, but everything was tidy again, even the vase with new lilies.
"You must be hungry." Clara spoke from the side, tossing the boy an apple. She didn't ask anything nor rebuke him. Her tone even suggested that she was relieved to find the boy awake.
The boy wanted to refuse the gesture, but his stomach grumbled at the sight of the apple. He hadn't eaten a ripe one in a long time. So, he munched as she watched in silence, respecting the boy's boundaries.
She would leave and return two more times to bring the boy food. This continued for a week then two. All the while she nursed his bandages and wounds. She spoke firmly but warmly and each time she brought him news and stories of the world beyond his room. Most were grim, that was the trend of the current era.
Some of the highlights included gossip of misery Dremin abducting children. A cover by the Freedom Paper narrating another rebellion in the Drazian empire but this time by some mercenary band. The usual relegious scuffle between Grishin Blighters and Drazian Abolishers over an artifact excavated near the borders of the two nations. The most grim piece of news was the start of the new semester at Egrafelt. The sole Canite academy would soon be hunting for students again.
He took all this information with a grain of salt and a deaf ear. To be precise the boy tried his best to ignore her kindness. He would not fall it. It was a ruse of some kind, and he was smarter than he'd been before. However, it was hard to ignore the warmth. It was intoxicating.
This routine continued until a moonless night greeted the boy with his favorite past time...insomnia. It probably the anxiety that kept him awake...it always leeched off whatever comfort he got muster.
In the dullness of the evening, he watched the perpetual cloudy sky. Even though the clouds never left it, the smoke of factories and chimneys was somehow making it darker. It almost entirely blocked what few rays of the red moon that dared grace the world with its presence.
With a sigh he turned to the flower at his bedside. The white scatter lilies were beautiful. He wondered if they grew lonely without the moonlight but then again Clara watered them religiously every day. Without her, they'd have withered away like him.
"What was ours taken...what safety we had now void." Regret spoke to him with her haughty attitude again. She was not wrong. He was now at under the roof of people he barely knew. It was only a matter of time before the warmth turned cold and the kindness gave way to demands but...
"Don't! DON'T EVEN DARE!" Fear screamed so loudly almost becoming real, making the boy lash out back.
"WHY NOT! Somebody has to make sense! They have to." The boy shouted and broke down in tears. He didn't want to admit how right fear was but he couldn't take the silence anymore. The walls he'd painstakingly built were becoming too surreal and he needn't someone…anyone to talk to other than himself.
As if on cue Clara walked into the room holding the dinner tray to find the boy crying. She set the tray aside and inched closer, reaching out to hug him. The boy flinched, curling up further
"It's…fine…everything is fine." She spoke softly, the mask barely a barrier between the two by now.
He could feel the affection she carried in her voice. It had to be real, or he'd be making a terrible mistake.
"Asher!" The boy murmured between the tears.
"Did you…Did you say something?" Clara asked in confusion. It was her first time hearing the boy speak.
"My name! My name is Asher." He spoke with frustration as he wiped away the tears. The moment he uttered his name both fear and regret disappeared leaving a buzz of silence that was almost nauseating.
"Well, Asher it's nice to finally make your acquaintance." Clara laughed at the boy who seemed lost at what to say next. A proper conversation was something he hadn't experienced in a long time. With gritted teeth, he followed what came to his head.
"Nice to meet you too!"