2025-10-23 22:07:42Aric Vale
The soldiers returned at dawn. I was waiting with my sword, water skin, and nothing else. Everything I owned fit inside that tower, and none of it mattered enough to bring.
The young captain looked surprised. "You're coming?"
"I'm coming."
They'd brought a spare horse, a gray mare that eyed me with suspicion. Smart horse. I approached slowly, letting her smell my hand before mounting. Seven years since I'd sat on a horse, but muscle memory took over.
We rode in silence. The soldiers kept their distance, forming a loose circle around me. Not quite prisoner formation, but close. I didn't blame them.
The scarred soldier rode closer after an hour. Up close, I could see he was older than I'd thought—fifty, maybe. Gray in his beard, lines around his eyes.
"Name's Garrett," he said. "Lieutenant Garrett Moss. Twenty-three years with the Royal Guard."
"You would have served when I did."
"I did. I was there the night they brought you back. The night Prince Dorian died." He paused. "I was there when they exiled you."
I had no memory of that. The days after Dorian's death were blank, washed out by shock and curse.
"Why tell me this?"
"Because I need you to know, I don't think you killed him. Never did." Garrett kept his eyes forward. "I saw your face that night. That wasn't guilt. That was grief."
"Grief doesn't prove innocence."
"No. But twenty-three years of reading people proves something." He looked at me. "I've seen killers confronted with their crimes. They don't look like you looked. They don't exile themselves without fighting."
"Maybe I deserved it anyway. Failed to protect him."
"There's a difference between failure and murder." Garrett's jaw tightened. "Truth matters, even when it's inconvenient."
I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.
The landscape changed as we traveled from the Wastes. Twisted trees straightened. The gray sky gave way to blue. Colors looked too bright, like I'd forgotten what real light looked like.
We made camp that night at an old way station. The soldiers built a fire, shared rations. I sat apart, watching.
The young captain approached eventually. Sat across from me without asking.
"Captain Lyons," he introduced himself. "Marcus Lyons. I was twelve when you were made Commander. You gave a speech about duty and honor. I memorized every word. Joined the Guard because of it."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"You haven't. Not yet." He leaned forward. "Do you remember anything about these murders?"
"No."
"What about your nights at Blackwatch?"
I wanted to lie. But Garrett had talked about truth matters.
"No. Most nights are blank. I wake up and can't remember falling asleep. Sometimes I'm in different places. Sometimes I'm exhausted for no reason."
Lyons' hand moved toward his sword.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I said quietly. "I've had seven years of opportunities. Travelers cross the Wastes sometimes. I've fed them, given directions. Never hurt anyone."
"That you remember," Lyons pointed out.
He wasn't wrong.
We slept in shifts, two always watching. I didn't sleep at all. I couldn't shake the feeling that closing my eyes meant waking up somewhere else with blood on my hands.
Around midnight, Garrett took a watch near me.
"You should sleep," he said.
"Can't."
"Afraid of what you might do?"
"Afraid of what I won't remember doing." I fed the fire. "Tell me about the first victim. Marcus Chen."
Garrett was quiet. "Good man. Wife, three kids. Training for sergeant."
"How was he killed?"
"Throat torn out. Four parallel wounds, deep. Claw marks across his chest. Your mark burned into his ribs. Perfect detail."
"Where?"
"Drainage ditch beside the eastern road. Forty miles from the Wastes border." He met my eyes. "Eighty miles from Blackwatch."
Eighty miles. I'd need a horse. But distance didn't mean much in the Wastes. Time and space moved wrong there.
"The others?"
"Similar. Some worse. Some fought back. But every one had your mark. And everyone was alone. No witnesses."
"Until the princess."
"Until her." Garrett shifted. "Her guards heard screaming. I heard a voice saying 'I'm sorry' over and over."
The stick in my hand snapped.
"My voice?"
"They said it sounded like the Commander. Formal. Precise." He watched me. "Does it mean anything?"
It should. But there was nothing. Just fog.
"No," I said.
We sat in silence. The fire died. The sky lightened.
"Why help me?" I asked finally. "I might be what they think."
"Because truth matters. And because I've seen what happens when kingdoms choose convenient lies over difficult truths. Never ends well."
Dawn came. The others woke, packed. We rode on.
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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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