Perception (Book 7) | Chapter 02 - Who Are You!? (Patreon)

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The velvet softness of lips that curved into the most beautiful of smiles, and the smell of warm hair bathed in sunlight danced across the edges of my mind. Something far away spoke to me, and I turned. It was kind, comforting, but I couldn’t make out the words. I was seeing the sound as runes, endless swirling lines of writing I had no hope of understanding, and tasting the bitterness of magic in the back of my throat. 

A sense of fear crept up my spine and I closed my eyes. Familiar arms wrapped around my waist and snaked their way under my shirt as they hugged me close, banishing the panic from my thoughts. The tickle of his breath relaxed the tension from my shoulders and I leaned back into it. 

‘You’re contracted you know,’ he whispered in my ear. 

I didn’t answer. If I spoke, I would wake, and I wanted to stay just a moment longer with him. 

‘You have to come find me… you promised…’ The faint hint of uncertainty in his voice made my heart ache. Even in my dreams he wasn’t sure, and I hated that more than anything because it was my fault. 

“I will find you…” I murmured, reluctantly pulling myself back to the world. Sulking would get me nowhere. 

*** 

“Stay closer,” I called to the two young humans running through the forest ahead as I followed behind. They were getting on my nerves. With full bellies and a good night's sleep they were full of energy, ducking and weaving through the undergrowth like rabbits. If they didn’t pace themselves, their energy would run dry and I would end up carrying them. Not what I wanted to be doing. 

Overhead the sky held few clouds, and bright sunshine assaulted the forest, bathing it in warmth. We crossed a decaying magic barrier a few miles back. It wasn’t exactly where I remembered Dunkel’s border being, and the fragile thinning wall of magic didn’t give me much hope, but it was some sign of life. Everywhere else there was nothing. 

The human townships we found were all the same, crumbling, desolate and abandoned. Their long asphalt trails were left in disrepair with those metal death traps they called ‘transportation’ abandoned like food scraps at the edges of a plate. The kids said ‘monster’s destroyed all the towns, and I was becoming more inclined to believe them. 

We found no signs of other Fae, nor any traces of Vanir. I hadn’t seen a boar since before the Black Hole, and my patience was wearing thin. Maybe I’d made a mistake. What if the spell Eiríkr wrote wasn’t intended for me?

“You look sad again,” Claire’s tiny voice chirped from beside me, and I startled.

“And you look dumb,” I retorted flatly. The damn girl never shut up. She was all arms and legs, awkward, like a spider monkey. Her big grey eyes were filled with overbearing willingness to please and overflowing with empathy, a stark contrast to her brother. 

The boy stalked about like a deranged militant; ‘watching and ready’ as he called it. He would fall for a Fae lure in less than ten seconds if he saw one I was certain. How did Eiríkr ever put up with them? His kindness was truly limitless, or maybe I’m just too hollow and bitter to appreciate their childish wonder.

“Where are we going?” Charles demanded as he too recalled to my side.

“Dunkel,” I answered as if they knew what that was.

Inevitably, the question came not a moment later, “What is that?” 

“A Fae castle.”

“Is it safe?” Claire chimed in.

I shrugged, probably not, not for them or me. Who knew what had become of the castle, who inhabited it, or if the stone walls still stood at all. It could be destroyed or abandoned… What would I do then? I glanced down at the children, and what would I do with these two if it weren’t?

***

Two more days passed before the dark silhouette appeared on the horizon. Dunkel’s looming gothic protrusions gave me hope. It was concealed by an illusion, hidden from all but Fae eyes—that was a good sign. I needed to talk to someone with more intelligence than these two brats before I lost my mind.

There was more life in the forest now, birds and small animals filtered between the branches, and I was becoming more confident by the moment. This area was stable. Whatever bad atmosphere lurked in the territory before this had lifted, we were truly in Fae territory now. 

We passed through an open plain, pocketed with divots and mounts of dirt grown over by lush grass. To the untrained eye, it might have looked like a pleasant hilly field, but I recognised the scars of battle. This had been a front for war. Something metal clinked under the heel of my boot, and I stooped to pick it up.

Some small object connected to a fragile chain and half buried in the dirt glinted in the sunlight. I pulled up carefully. It was broken, snapped as if torn from its owner, but it had tangled around the rudimentary shape of its pendant; a boar with a razer blade back still sharp enough to draw blood. A Vanir revenant tool.

I shuddered involuntarily, it looked just like the ones Eiríkr’s family wore… I closed my fist around it gently, as if it would bring me back to him. All these fragments to a history I didn’t know. It was like trying to put a puzzle back together without knowing what it looked like in the first place.  

We left the field and crossed into the illusion surrounding Dunkel. Both children gasped in shock at the sudden appearance of a castle towering over us. Its tall slate rooftops and dark stone walls leared overhead. Guards in black armour lined the parapets. Each stood taut at attention and brandished a longbow, although none were raised. 

The reinforced wooden gates stood open, as if waiting for someone, and I hesitated for half a step. They weren’t moving to stop us. None even batted an eye to see us approach, they stood in position, watching almost as if expecting something from me.

“If I tell you to run, you run until you can’t breathe anymore. Do you understand?” I whispered to the children, moving them behind me.

Both clung to the back of my shirt, and I rested my hand on the hilt of my sword. Slightly relaxed postures stiffened as the men stood to attention and I gave a small, manic, relieved laugh. They recognised my face, and were responding as if they knew me. My brother must have been here.

“At ease,” I gave the order flippantly as we walked through the gates into the main keep unobstructed.

I lifted Claire into my arms, and ushered Charles ahead of us so I could keep an eye on him. There were few Fae in the streets, but they parted to the side all the same to allow our passage. The castle layout was much how I remembered it to be, unsurprising since it was built well before I was born. But twice the alleyways I thought led to the inner keep took us the wrong way. So not everything was the same, I thought with increasing anxiety.

The inner keep gates were open just as the outer gates had been and I proceeded until I reached a familiar courtyard. Nobel Fae I hadn’t known nor cared to remember lingered, some bowed when they spotted me, I ignored them as I always did, until I spotted Ávila. 

She slides between the pillars holding up the arch way between two areas of the building. Her long hair feathered behind her with the flowing fabric of her dress and I moved quickly into her path, “Ávila, have you seen my brother?”

The woman stopped startled, as if I hadn’t spoken to her in some time, before she smiled, bending into a gracious curtsy. “Your highness,” her voice dripped with deference and I could have heaved.

“There’s no need for that,” I assured before repeating myself, “Have you seen my brother?” 

She delayed, politely confused, searching my eyes for something, “… Forgive me, I don’t understand the joke…”

I stared at her blankly. What on earth did she mean?

Sensing my apprehension she gestured to take Claire from me, “Shall I place them in the ‘playhouse’?” she asked softly.

The ‘playhouse’ is what we called the livestock area, the name is innocuous so the children don’t grow suspicious, and it is a place human children would like. Food is readily available to them, and they have the room and toys to entertain themselves as they see fit. No point stressing the meat before slaughter.

“No, these two are…” I wasn’t sure how to word it, “A special project. They should be trained as Pets, but raised as if they were Fae children.”

Ávila watched me for another long moment, as if waiting for a punchline, “...Your highness?”

Had I said something wrong? “Was I unclear?” I questioned, stripping the uncertainty from my voice in the authoritative way I had learned since childhood.

“N-no, I’m just surprised, I didn’t realise we were re-starting the Pet’s program.”

“Why would we not?”

The poor woman looked lost, and I was finding some new irritation for her. This wasn’t my Ávila. Not the mischievous, almost spiteful woman I knew, but some simpering shell of a person I could barely stomach.

“Do as I say, they are not to be harmed. Train like Pets, treat like Fae children. Might I suggest bathing them first, they smell like animals and it’s not a difficult task, I trust you can manage?” I snapped.

“O-Of course,” she bowed again and I stifled my irritation. At least she was likely too soft to disobey.

I handed the children over to her, and she vanished with only one further confused glance over her shoulder. Who did she think I was? Achaicus? Or Nathaniel? I suppose it didn’t matter. She listened regardless and she would take care of the kids until I could speak to my brother. 

Turning on my heel, I chose to go to the only other person I thought might be helpful. Loathe is the day Markos Bellerose is my last hope, but that was where it was headed. I made it not more than a few steps before finding Markos was no longer necessary. He strode around the opposite corner into the courtyard and froze mid stride. I’d never seen him quite so surprised before, nor so confused.

His hair was long and tied high, the lush curls cascaded over his shoulder with the breeze. He wore the pressed uniform of a medical officer, something he rarely if ever did, and was barely older than I. Beside him stood my twin. Though younger than I now by what seemed a year or less, he too had frozen in place.

His hair was mid-length, not as short as mine, but not as long as Achaicus’s once was. We stared at each other in simultaneous disbelief while Markos glanced between us with an ever widening cheshire smile. He looked like he might burst into laughter, if not for the way my brother’s face darkened. His expression contorted into unadulterated rage, magic sparked at his fingertips and I grimaced with sour understanding. He was less than happy to see me.

My brother drew his sword, but I made no move to return the gesture, “Wait-” I tried. He didn’t listen.

Cold steel passed inches from my face as I ducked aside, and almost caught me on the backswing. Bending back I wheeled out of his path and landed in a crouched position a few feet back. My energy stirred in a hiss of displaced air. It swirled around me in a defensive circular pattern as I dodged and deflected two more incoming strikes. 

“I just want to talk-” I tried again, but he wasn’t listening. Such a dramatic overreaction. 

Moreover, he wasn’t thinking, he was just moving. No technique. He barrelled into me and I directed the sword away, catching him by the wrist, “Stop, brother, I don’t want to fight you.”

“‘Brother’?” Achaicus spat the word back like it was poison, “You think that illusion can fool me?”

Illusion? I considered, careful not to split my attention from him for too long. Movement to my right cut the thought process short as Markos entered with his scythe. I hardly managed to avoid it. I couldn’t fight them both, not without hurting them. 

“I don’t want to fight!” I repeated, earning myself enough distance to put my hands up in defeat, “I’m not an imposter, and I didn’t come to fight. Grant me 10 minutes, I can explain.”

*** 

Surrendering was a poor idea. Achaicus was unwilling, but Markos convinced him, although undoubtedly only to satisfy his own morbid curiosity. I was led into a hall where the floor gave way into a pit of salt, and awoke in a prison cell, shackled to the wall. Trusting my brother has always been my downfall. I should have known better.

He sat before me on an ornate chair, calmer now, if not still quietly infuriated. The feeling was mutual. “We thought your illusion would melt in the salt,” he commented at last.

“If it was an illusion, it might have,” I returned with disdain.

“What did you hope to do? Infiltrate my castle? Have others do your bidding?”

I snorted, “No.”

“Then what is it you want? Is this some half-witted assassination attempt?” 

“I’m your brother. Stop being so insufferable, you don’t scare me.”

“You’re not my brother,” he answered with leveled calm.

“You’re right,” I conceded, “I’m your twin.” 

His lip curled into a sneer, like he’d smelled something bad and he stood. I realized too late that he was going to punch me. The force split my lip and blood poured down my face from my nose. This disrespectful, arrogant, piece of shit—I smiled to myself, my Achaicus would never have dared.

“Who are you?” he asked sedate, “Or do you need me to hit you again so you remember?”

“My name is Nathaniel Klein,” I responded with feigned politeness. 

“No you’re not.”

“You’ve never been smart, but I presume you haven’t forgotten what your reflection looks like?”

He hit me again. “Who. Are. You,” he hissed.

“Nath-” I began, but he cut me off.

“You’re not my brother!” His hair swirled around him in agitation as his energy lashed the floor. It displaced the air, ruffling my clothes and hair, and I spit blood onto the floor in front of him.

“Throw as much of a tantrum as you want, my answer won’t change,” I muttered.

Perhaps I was being unfair. After all, the creeping idea came to me that perhaps I wasn’t entirely sure who I was talking to either. Was he me? Or was he my twin? I didn’t fully understand the spell I had cast, had I replaced myself? Or were there three of us now? It’s confusing to look at your own face and not know if it’s yourself or not. No wonder other’s couldn’t tell us apart, I couldn't either.

“I know you’re lying,” he growled in a low, dangerous tone, unsheathing his sword to direct the tip of it to my throat, “This is your last chance before I run you through for this treachery.”

Could I command him if I needed to? “I’m not lying… Look at me, you’re my brother. Go ask Lucinde… Markos, anyone. I am Nathaniel.”

His jaw set as he reexamined me. My brother traced me from head to toe, calculating, deciding, scrutinizing, before abruptly turning away. He exited the cell without another word, leaving me alone, bleeding and in darkness no closer to finding my Vanir.

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