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It was so cold outside. The coziness of the cottage had almost made Gavin forget what time of year it was. He felt as if he could hear the murmurings of his ancestors in the air that rushed past his ears as he fled from the cottage window.
‘A Grieve and a Lowe, on the same side.’
‘Stupid boy how could you ever think this would work’
‘800 years of history and you still haven’t figured it out’
Gavin’s heart pounded as fast as his feet against the ground. A thick layer of snow had fallen. His breaths came in short puffs as his body adjusted to the sudden action of running as fast as his feet could take him through the forest.
He couldn’t tell what curse he saw in the cottage, but he knew it was aimed at him. A flash that lit up his whole room. He barely managed to roll out of the way. He knew it was foolish to trust a Lowe, even one that seemed to have gotten so vulnerable. But this was a tournament, and one would have to kill the other.
The wind whipped at Gavin’s face, stinging his eyes and making his nose run. Every turn he took through the woods he swore he could hear steps behind him, but nobody was there when he turned to cast.
When his legs couldn’t run anymore and his lungs felt as if they were freezing from the inside, he threw himself at the base of a tree. The snow, overnight, had fallen to six inches, making it difficult to run through, even for someone of his height. Gavin sat and caught his breath, allowing himself to think about the night.
Alistair Lowe and Gavin Grieve had spent the night talking again. They sat in the living room of the warm cottage and drank tea. Gavin had told him about his family. How he knew they raised him to die. Foolish, really. Sharing your sorrows with the boy who was to kill you eventually. But there was something about Alistair that pulled Gavin’s heart in. Something that definitely had nothing to do with his sharp jawline and widow’s peak.
Gavin felt a brief streak of warmth down his cheek. He raised his hand, shivering from the cold, and swiped tears from his face. Alistair Lowe and Gavin Grieve. Sworn enemies, though the Lowes’ history would have everyone think Gavin was a bug for Alistair to squash below his heel.
Gavin examined the spellstones on his hands. A Divining Kiss, an Exoskeleton, and a Hold in Place. He patted his pockets, his handful of filled curserings were on the nightstand before he fled. He grabbed for them on his way out but heard some clatter to the floor. He only hoped there would be something he could use, he particularly hoped for his Ten of Daggers.
Removing the rings from his pocket revealed no such luck. Instead, what he had managed to grab was a Dragon’s Breath, Straitjacket, and a Vampire’s Stake. All of which could be useful, but in a fight against a much more prepared Alistair, was likely a death sentence for Gavin.
Still, he steeled himself. He knew there was no point in running, as concealing his footprints in the snow with what he had would be nearly impossible without slowing him down completely. Instead, Gavin used the Dragon’s Breath as gently as he could to start a small fire in front of him. He had fallen asleep in sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and his slippers, and that was all he ran out in, meaning that the chilling night air penetrated the thin layers easily. His exercises had helped, and the life magic he managed to get from Hendry, so he barely felt the twinge in his arm as he cast the spell at its lowest level. But he knew it was still there.
Minutes passed, or at least Gavin thought it was minutes, the trees had obscured the moon and stars above. He heard the distant crunching of footsteps in the snow and Gavin extinguished the flame. It was dark, but the red light of the blood moon illuminated the snow, sending crimson sparkles dancing through the shadows of the trees.
The crunching footsteps got closer, Gavin feared Alistair could hear the thundering beating of his heart. The warmth of the flame had melted away parts of his footsteps, so Alistair couldn’t pinpoint his exact position, but he knew he was near this clearing.
”Gav, come on out.”
Gavin’s jaw clenched. Nicknames felt inappropriate for a time like this. He held his breath.
1
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Light burst from one of Alistair’s spell rings, bathing the clearing in a warm, sunny light. Gavin curled behind his tree, swiping at his face one more time.
When he heard Alistair’s footsteps approaching, Gavin made a break for it. Weaving between the trees on the edge of the clearing.
“Gavin, what the hell!?” Alistair shouted behind him, curserings flaring.
A vine at Gavin’s feet twitched magickally, splaying him into the snow. He faced the clearing now, and from this angle Alistair looked much taller as he approached cautiously.
Gavin pulled himself to his feet, the front of his sweatshirt now soaked from the snow.
“Get away from me, Lowe!” He gasped, holding his ringed hand defensively in front of him.
The boy’s brows knotted together, and Gavin had to look away from the way the red moonlight shone on his high cheekbones. Gavin’s eyes filled with tears again.
”Don’t act surprised. We both knew this would happen. I just thought,” Gavin faltered, “I just thought we’d wait a bit longer.”
”Gav, I don't know what the hell you’re talking about.”
”Don’t call me that.”
Gavin reached out, Dragon’s Breath cursering flaring as a burst of violent fire shot towards Alistair. The familiar segmented shield of Exoskeleton covered him before it made contact. Gavin shuddered from the sobs threatening to bubble over.
A ring on Alistair’s finger shimmered and Gavin threw up his own Exoskeletion. Expecting fire and monsters, he was taken aback when the vines of the trees behind him ensnared his body. He was now bound tightly by Alistair’s Forest’s Hunger. Gavin’s heart sank.
His bicep stung slightly from the spells he had been casting. Alistair ran his hand through his hair, almost entirely white now, and Gavin turned his head away defiantly. They both knew that killing Gavin could kill him too. Alistair’s lust for victory must triumph over his fear of death. From all he had told Gavin about his home, he could see why.
But it was no time to feel sorry for Alistair’s life now. He had made his decision, and Gavin must now too.
So he cast Straitjacket, one that he knew had been used on Alistair before. Sure enough, Alistair’s Forest’s Hunger dropped as his eyes brimmed with fear.
“Gav, I felt you leaving the wards, could you please—“
“I SAID DONT FUCKING CALL ME THAT,” Gavin reared back, threatening to cast another spell, every ring on his hands lighting up.
“Sorry, Gavin. We’re helping each other. We’re supposed to be able to trust each other.”
“There is no trust in this tournament,” Gavin replied halfheartedly. Trust was what got him into this mess. Trust was the reason Alistair Lowe had been able to get so close to his bedroom.
“I suppose you’re right,” Alistair said hesitantly, “But I still don’t understand why you chose now to act. You haven’t been …fixed yet.”
Gavin scoffed, “I chose when you cast on me.”
“Cast— Gavin what are you talking about I didn’t cast—“ A knowing look flashed in his eyes.
“Don’t play stupid with me, Lowe. I’m done. I’m done with this stupid tournament, and I’m done with you pretending I mean something to you.”
“Gavin, no, it’s not—“
Alistair couldn’t even finish his sentence before the Vampire’s Stake conjured, aimed straight for Alistair’s heart. Alistair’s Exoskeleton had run out from the Dragon’s Breath. He wasn’t sure what else Alistair had on him currently, so he had to act fast before the Straitjacket released.
“Please. Stop. You don’t know what happened. Hendry, right when we were going to bed, he had one of his… episodes…” It was almost pathetic, seeing the Lowe champion pleading at the feet of the Grieve.
Through tears, Gavin let the Vampire’s Stake pierce his heart, “I don’t fucking care.”
Alistair’s mouth gaped open. He took shallow, ragged breaths that puffed out into the chilling air around them. He fell sideways into the snow, the stake protruding from his midsection falling with him. Gavin could hardly see through the tears that streamed from his eyes. He fell to his knees over Alistair.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this, was all he could think as Alistair’s blood warmed his freezing hands. But it was. From the moment the boys were born they were destined to die at each others’ hands. Gavin had spent so long imagining his own death by Alistair’s curses that the slick liquid coating his hands now petrified him. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
Alistair’s open mouth moved, trying to speak. Gavin listened helplessly as pained gurgles escaped his throat.
In a panic, Gavin let the rest of his spells loose. He ignored the pain in his arm growing with each spell released. The Hold in Place froze Alistair in his distressed state, Gavin racked out a sob. The rest of his Dragon’s Breath circled above them, causing some of the snow from the treetops to melt and drip down onto them like freezing tears. Exoskeleton flickered weakly, being spent on his defense already. Finally, the Divining Kiss, his only completely filled spellstone, intruded fiercely into Alistair’s unguarded mind.
Alistair and Gavin sat facing each other on the couch. Gavin’s eyes clouded over after telling him how scared he was. Alistair paused, fighting the unwelcome urge to kiss him. Instead, Alistair swallowed, and stood to go to his room. The blood veil had fallen, and the moment it did meant that Alistair couldn’t let himself care. But he did.
Hendry stood in his doorway, a smile played at his lips, “you are terrible at hiding things.”
“Don’t, please. As soon as I get rid of this curse, we are enemies again.”
“You know that you…” Hendry mumbled.
“No. We agreed, we stick together, there’s no way I put him over you.”
“Will this be a life for you? For either of us? Do you think you could live with all of this?”
“I’m going to have to.”
“Al, I could see you in there, you deserve to be happier. You deserve to break this curse and leave this behind,” Hendry gestured around.
“I’ll be happy getting out of here with you…” Alistair paused, running his hands through his hair as he looked over his shoulder and listened to Gavin retire to his room, “he’s just so god damn pathetic.”
Hendry could tell this was final. Alistair watched him walk down the hall, wishing he wouldn’t leave. Just in front of Gavin’s door, Hendry’s high magick flashed as he seemingly winked out of existence.
“Hendry?” He heard chaotic clattering in Gavin’s bedroom, “Hendry!?”
Alistair turned back to his bedroom, fiddling nervously with the rings on his fingers.
After a few seconds, he felt movement at the wards, “shit.”
He flung open Gavin’s slightly ajar door, only to see the bedding kicked to the floor at the end of the bed and the curtains fluttering. A small collection of rings had fallen on the floor in a panic, “Gavin?”
Without thinking, he took off running to th—
Gavin was ripped from the memory abruptly. It dizzied him a bit, but when he righted himself, he could see the red light of the blood moon become a little bit lighter. Gavin shuddered. His breathing quickened as he placed his hands on Alistair’s bleeding chest.
He looked around frantically. The snow around them was stained a dark crimson. It was easier to ignore with the redness of the moonlight. Now, it stood out distinctly against the stark white snow.
Gavin was screaming. He was soaked to the bone from kneeling in the snow and his sweatshirt cuffs would forever be stained from the blood of the Lowe champion. And he was hysterical. Alistair hadn’t cast on him, but he suffered as if he had.
Gavin collapsed sideways, his face now level with Alistair’s slack jaw. The snow cooled his aching arm, but it offered no comfort to Gavin now.
Through heavy tears he scanned Alistair’s face. His eyes were mostly closed, Gavin stared at his eyelashes, believing any moment they would flutter to life. His hair hung limp in sweaty ringlets, partially obscuring his aristocratic nose. He brushed it behind the boy’s ear, his last few locks of dark hair in his shock of white that matched the forest around him. His lips parted, though no breath left them. Gavin had wanted to kiss them on more than one occasion.
Heaving sobs left Gavin’s whole body sore when he stood up. He was freezing now, and it was nearly impossible to drag himself back to the cottage, no longer claimed by any living champion. The pillar was perched regally just past the yard.
Gavin’s eyes immediately found Alistair’s name, freshly struck out. Gavin had long run out of tears to shed, and his spellstones were empty. He hit the pillar, grunting with the effort. It hurt, punching solid stone, but he did it again. Each hit left smudges of Alistair’s blood behind on the stone like bruises.
When he stopped, Gavin felt nothing at all. He trudged his way through the snow, shivering. The Grieve landmark responded to him now. The lights dimmed, and grime creeped into the windows, just as Alistair had liked it.
He lay in the bed of the master bedroom, waiting to hear the sounds of footsteps as Hendry returned. But the sound never came. As the hours stretched into days, Hendry never returned to the tournament.
Gavin had killed both Lowes that night.
Victory didn’t seem to matter anymore.