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Lightning struck overhead, painting the dark sky in a brilliant flash of light for just a moment before it disappeared. The earth seemed to mourn the creatures that walked upon it, her rain flooding the earth, creating mud and dirt that threatened to swallow one whole.
The group trudged onward, shifting down the hill to the next sign of torch light in the distance, where heavy tents remained as sturdy as could be in the storm, stakes driven far into the earth’s surface. Vander narrowed his eyes, stopping for a moment, as the other soldiers weaved past him. Time seemed to slow for a moment, but he could still feel the rain, beating down on his face, soaking his hair to his scalp and slipping between the cracks of his armour.
The rain had only grown stronger in the passing days. The war was not yet over.
His gaze shifted upward, back to the walking people of his battalion. They were all tired, sleep did not come easy to most of them. He was ashamed to say he didn't know who half of them were.
He did, however, know where they came from.
Villages. ransacked by his father’s fighting force, forced into poverty and suffering.
The guild of his mother, standing up for a rightful cause.
Mercenary organizations, who loved the thrill of battle and the promise of fine payment.
But what was he, Vander Alderman? A victim? Spurned by his father’s abuse and torment, fighting in this war only for the simple matter of revenge? Of giving his father what he deserved? Was he the prodigal son he was raised to be, under truths he could never be truly sure of?
A blur of light caught his eye and the dhampir whirled around as it moved towards the base of the hill as he was ripped away from his thoughts. Like a flash, it moved again, and finally took a form.
A woman stood at the top of the hill, a bright grey.. no, silver silhouette against the impending darkness. Her eyes glowed white, an expression vander couldn't quite place. Her hair shifted above her head, resembling a flame in the way it rippled and gleamed. Vander felt transfixed, and he took a step toward.
The figure outstretched a hand, and her frame shifted, as she suddenly recoiled it as though to stop something, though, despite her demands, darkness crawled across her wiry arm and suddenly shot back at him, taking the form of a mighty, fanged beast.
“ Beware Bel Shalor! BEWARE! “ The woman cried out, her voice breaking in what vander could only register to be agony. The creature's shadowed form launched at him, and Vander let out a yell, stumbling back and hitting the mud just as the creature got close, it's teeth leaning over the flesh of his very head—
“ Lieutenant? “
A voice suddenly pulled him away. He was on the ground, back of his shirt caked in mud. His heart was still pounding in his chest.. but the creature was gone, as though it had never been there.
The woman was gone too, vanished from her place at the top of the hill.
His eyes darted towards the source of the voice right next to him, and he looked up. the face of Clint Hathaway stared back at him, the tabaxi’s eyes seemed to gleam slightly in the dark.. this close, Vander could pick apart the spots on his face. Vander knew him, a former blacksmith’s apprentice from one of the far away villages, though it was nothing now, scorched by his father and The Purified.
Clint flicked his spotted tail back and forth, giving a crooked grin. “ Don't know if you know this, but camp is that way. “ he chuckled, pointing a finger towards the tents through the heavy rain. His other hand locked around vander’s, pulling the ranger up to his feet. The dhampir steadied himself, trying to ignore the wobbling in his legs.
“ Right, right.. well.. y'know, it's slippery out here. “ Vander replied, rubbing the back of his hair. He quickly recoiled his hand, once he realized how much mud he was smearing in his hair. Eh, no harm done. It was already dirty anyway. He'd bathe tonight.
“ Then why didn't you just get right back up? “ Clint questioned, crossing his arms. “ You just sort of.. sat there. “
Clint was so familiar. The way he spoke. The way he acted, the way he joked like he had no cares in the world. He always reminded Vander of someone else.. someone so distant, so far away.. but so close to his heart in all things.
He couldn't find an answer to fellow soldier’s question, though. His voice caught in his throat and eventually Vander just let himself be silent, glancing down to the mud before he began to trudge onward.
“ .. Doesn't matter, “ He murmured. “ Let's get back to camp before the General has my head. “
The tabaxi didn't follow him immediately. Vander could feel the look of.. almost, pity, directed at the back of his head. But it faded after a moment, and Clint was walking at his side before too long. In that moment, he was able to put the woman out of his mind, and soon gone was her flaming hair and the darkness coming to swallow him alive.
But her warning remained, a constant ringing in his ears.
Beware Bel Shalor.
—
“ I want a group of archers in the treeline, and one down in the higher up parts of the ruins. We need to slow them anyway we can. “
The words registered to Vander, but his focus wasn't on his general. No, the ringing in his ears had his attention. His fingers tapped idly against the table, gradually picking up speed. He couldn't get the ringing to go away, and it was starting to make his head hurt.
Beware Bel Shalor.
The words would come, his only relief, before the ringing would return. It grew harsher the more he tried to ignore it, and soon, all other noise seemed to be a thing of the past as he just tried to hear beyond the ringing, through the pounding pain in his head. He felt as though his head were going to explode, spray his brains all over the table if it got too bad.
Beware Bel Shalor. It was a chant now, a mantra, as the silver woman’s warning burrowed into his mind.
His hand reached up, tangling into his hair as he tried to steady himself.
“ Vander! “
The yell brought him out, just as it had happened earlier, and the ringing seemed to cease all together. His fingers dug into the table, nails scraping against the spruce, and he could feel the sweat on his palms. He was met with the faces of his fellow soldiers, all in various states of either annoyance or confusion.
And then his gaze shifted to the face of his general. His mother.
Disna had cut her hair completely short in recent times, now a short black wave atop her head. She sported new scars, but they weren't uncommon these days, especially not for her. she'd gathered plenty before then.. but all he could see was his mother's tired eyes.
“ I should hope you're paying attention, lieutenant. “
Her voice was sharp, enough to make anybody instantly stand and salute. She'd never treated him softer in this war effort, even with their relationship. Not since they'd found each other again. There was no point in coddling anyone, there was a war to be fought.
He instinctively straightened himself.
“ .. Sorry, General. “
She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, and he could've sworn he saw her gaze soften, that look of pity again, before her familiar eyes moved back to the battle map. She shifted a piece along the diagram of the ruins. He kept himself tuned in, not wanting to miss much more. There was no time to be focused elsewhere, not when the assault was so close. Not when the peak of their war was coming. Not when there were so many lives at stake.
But he couldn't ignore it. The words, shifting about in the very crevices of his brain. The warning. The horror on the silver woman’s face.