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10. Into The Deep Wastes
Author: Decim
last update2025-10-25 19:10:44

Aric Vale

We set up before daybreak, no one eager to linger beside Thorne's grave more than they had to. The mood was blacker than ever, heavy, there was no talking, tense, all soldiers watching me like I was about to shatter at any second.

Perhaps I would.

The further we rode into the Wastes, the stranger reality became. Trees grew out in curls, their bark curling like water. The ground shifted color, brown to gray to purple, beneath the horses' hooves. Time felt fluid, stretching and compressing at will.

"How much farther?" Captain Lyons queried, checking his compass for the third time in an hour. The needle spun futile, unable to tell north in a place where direction didn't exist.

"By the princess's prints, maybe six hours," Garrett said, studying the prints we'd been following. "But there's no telling here. It could be three hours. It could be twelve."

I recognized it too, the wrongness pressing down my skull. The Wastes were most intense here, reality stretched and rented asunder
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  • 10. Into The Deep Wastes

    Aric ValeWe set up before daybreak, no one eager to linger beside Thorne's grave more than they had to. The mood was blacker than ever, heavy, there was no talking, tense, all soldiers watching me like I was about to shatter at any second.Perhaps I would.The further we rode into the Wastes, the stranger reality became. Trees grew out in curls, their bark curling like water. The ground shifted color, brown to gray to purple, beneath the horses' hooves. Time felt fluid, stretching and compressing at will."How much farther?" Captain Lyons queried, checking his compass for the third time in an hour. The needle spun futile, unable to tell north in a place where direction didn't exist."By the princess's prints, maybe six hours," Garrett said, studying the prints we'd been following. "But there's no telling here. It could be three hours. It could be twelve."I recognized it too, the wrongness pressing down my skull. The Wastes were most intense here, reality stretched and rented asunder

  • 9. Division

    Aric ValeI watched from my bound body as my shadow chased Thorne through the darkness. Watched with horror and helplessness as my other self moved with inhuman speed, closing the distance in seconds. Thorne made it maybe thirty yards before the shadow caught him. One moment he was running, the next my shadow materialized in front of him, cutting off escape. "Please…" Thorne gasped, stumbling back. "I was just following orders, she forced us…" "I know," the shadow said. My voice, my face, but with a certainty I'd never possessed. "That's why you've lived this long. You were a victim too. Coerced. Frightened." "Then let me go…" "I can't." The shadow moved closer. "You're a witness. The last living witness to what she did. And she's hunting for you just as surely as I am." "I'll hide better, I'll disappear…" "You can't hide from her forever. She has resources, magic, and power. She'll find you eventually. And when she does, she'll kill you quietly. Make it look like an accident."

  • 8. The Rally Point

    Aric ValeWe reached the old watchtower at mid-morning the next day. The structure rose from the wasteland like a broken tooth, thirty feet of crumbling stone, roof long since collapsed. "This is it?" Captain Lyons asked skeptically. "This is your rally point?" "It was intact seven years ago," I said. "The Wastes have a way of aging things faster than normal time." We approached cautiously, weapons drawn. The tower sat alone in a field of dead grass, no cover nearby. If this was a trap, we'd see it coming. But I felt no danger. Just a strange pull, like recognition. I'd been here before. Not recently, seven years ago. The memory was faint, filtered through fog, but present. Garrett and Lyons went in first, checking for threats. After a tense minute, Garrett called back: "Clear. But you need to see this." They brought me inside, still bound. The tower's interior was hollow, open to the sky where the roof had fallen. Stones littered the floor, overgrown with strange plants. And

  • 7. The Third Site

    Aric ValeLieutenant Damon Reeves had died in an abandoned mill, three miles from the main road. We reached it just as the sun touched the horizon, painting the old structure in shades of red and gold.The mill's wheel was broken, half-collapsed into the stream that had once powered it. The building itself leaned precariously, boards missing from the walls like gaps in a smile."He was found inside," Garrett said, dismounting. "Eight weeks ago. A traveling merchant spotted crows circling and investigated."We approached on foot, the soldiers in tight formation around me. My hands were bound in front now, giving me slightly more freedom but still marking me as prisoner.The smell hit as we entered. Eight weeks of decay in an enclosed space. I breathed shallowly, forcing my stomach to settle.The body was in the back corner, skeletal now. Scraps of uniform still clung to bones. The Royal Guard insignia was visible on what remained of the shoulder.And there, burned into the ribcage, the

  • 6. Consequences

    Aric ValeThomas was gone.They found his body an hour after dawn, half a mile from camp. Same wounds as the others. Four parallel cuts to the throat. The Mark of the Vale burned into his chest.Still warm.I stood over his body, hands bound behind my back now, two soldiers gripping my arms. Captain Lyons knelt beside Thomas, face pale with shock and rage."He was nineteen," Lyons said quietly. "He joined the Guard eight months ago. He wanted to make his mother proud.""I'm sorry," I said. The words felt hollow, inadequate."Sorry?" Lyons stood, hand on his sword. "You murdered him. While we slept, while we trusted that the ropes would hold you…""The ropes did hold me," I interrupted. "Check them. They're still tied exactly as you left them. Still secured to the tree."Garrett had already gone to check. He came back looking troubled. "He's right. The ropes are intact. The knots haven't been disturbed. He couldn't have gotten free and retired himself that perfectly.""Then how?" Lyons

  • 5. Patterns

    Aric ValeWe mounted up again, my wrists tied looser this time, enough freedom to ride, not enough to threaten. We traveled in heavy silence as the sun descended toward the horizon.My head still ached from the double vision, from the memory that had surfaced. I could feel the presence in my mind, quieter now but still there. Watching. Waiting."How many victims can we reach?" I asked Garrett as we rode. "Before we get to wherever the princess is?""Three more sites are on the route," he said. "All within two days' ride. After that, we're in the deep Wastes where her trail leads.""Tell me about them. The three victims."Garrett pulled out a journal, flipped through pages. "Victim seven: Lieutenant Damon Reeves. Found eight weeks ago in an abandoned mill. Same wounds, same mark. He was…" Garrett paused, reading. "He was part of your patrol unit. The night Prince Dorian died."My breath caught. "He was there?""According to records, yes. One of six soldiers who accompanied you and the

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