wasteawar

I'll try to get another chapter done soon, but there might not be a chapter next week. Sorry if that's the case. Anyway, enjoy the chapter.

Autumn wished people would stop surprising her. Her heart beat a riot rhythm in her chest. A sound she was sure the others could hear. To be fair, part of the onus was on her as she’d forgotten all about the banshee’s presence in all the violence and confusion. Although she was unaware that the banshee could communicate outside of the prison that she’d willfully entered. 

Glancing around furtively, Autumn didn’t see any sign that the others had heard the banshee’s voice. 

“Fret not, for I speaketh to thy mind. Simply will thy voice beest hath heard by myself and 'twill reacheth me.” The banshee’s voice echoed in the empty corridors that led to Autumn’s mind. It quested, knocking on the barred door it found as it beseeched entry and amity. It was a strange feeling indeed. 

Autumn swallowed. Her heart calmed as she weighed her reply. 

‘The others can’t hear you, right?’ 

“Not unless they can readeth thy mind? Can they?”

Paranoia gripped Autumn. Once again, she cast her eyes about furtively. The others weren’t paying any more attention to Autumn than they usually would. When her eyes met with Leshana's, the Elf raised a questioning eyebrow, seemingly asking if Autumn had sensed anything. Autumn just shook her head and tried to look calm; the opposite of what she felt inside. 

‘I-I don’t think so, no. At least I hope not. N-nevermind that, what was this about the hag’s breath?’ Autumn thought-replied to the banshee. It was quite remarkable how she still found a way to stutter while speaking in her mind.

“I sense the foul hag’s taint near thee. Be wary.”

Autumn shuddered. ‘Please never say “hag’s taint” ever again. It’s…poor phrasing.’

“Okay?” The banshee’s confusion vibrated through the mental line. 

‘Moving on. What do you mean exactly? Is the hag nearby? And if so, how close?’

“I knoweth not the things thee bid of me, for in death I am weaken'd. For sooth, I cannot sayeth if it be true the hag lingers still. However, on these lonesome walls, that cruel monster’s touch remains like a foul smell. A terrible stench. As for how long since that beast’s passing? Days peradventure? Or the hag might still beest nearby. Who is't can knoweth?”

Autumn sniffed, but she smelled only salt and body-odor. The travel so far had not been kind to her clothing, and without her wand to cleanse them, they’d accumulated a thin coating of grime. What she desired most and ultimately needed was a hot shower.

‘Are you sure?’

A coldness radiated out from the soul cage pressed up against Autumn’s skin. “I’ll ner forget betrayal's scent.”

‘Right. Ok. It wasn’t that I was doubting you; I just wanted to make sure.’ Autumn nervously licked her cracked lips. ‘And besides, right now, I’m not really in a state to go toe-to-toe with a hag, especially one on her home turf.’

The connection was silent a moment before the banshee chimed back in, her voice even colder and ringing with a dark portent. A threat and warning both. “Thou wouldn’t beest going back on our deal, would thee? I can guarantee thee shall not like the consequences.”

‘NO.’ Autumn shouted in the confines of her mind. ‘No. B-but there are ways to do things right. If you want the hag dead, I’ll need time and help to do so. Do not worry. I’ll do what I have said I would. The hag will lie dead.’

A pause. A silence. One so deep and dark that shadows themselves would die within it. 

Slowly, the banshee spoke once more as if each word was being measured for its worth. 

“Very well. Trust thee shalt has't, young witch, but knoweth this: shouldst thee betray me too, death shall beest a relief thee shalt not enjoy. A fate wandering forevermore shall beest thine curse, as is mine. ”

Finally, a solemn silence filled Autumn’s mind. Gone was the voice in the winding halls, the visitor having retreated back fully into the confines of the hallowed amulet that rested innocently upon Autumn’s breast. The banshee appeared content to watch and wait. 

Just how much power the fallen Fae possessed was a mystery to Autumn, as was how much the soul cage actually held them; the banshee had gone in willingly after all. Who knows whether it even could contain one of such nature. The nature of souls was a foreign concept to Autumn, and she knew no masters of such in which to confide or at least question about such matters. 

Autumn shook off those harrowing thoughts, casting her mind to contemplate what she’d been told. 

Finger Eater Mildred had been here. Even worse, she might still linger nearby. Autumn opened her mouth to speak, to warn the others. However, just as she was about to, a crazy thought popped into her mind and her jaw shut with a click as she stumbled. The others turned to Autumn questioningly. 

“...sorry.” Autumn apologized while forcing herself to blush—not that it required much effort. “Just stumbled over a rock.”

Curiosity satisfied, the others turned away. 

Leshana offered a kind smile. “All good. Just watch your feet, perhaps?” 

“Un.” Autumn grunted in reply, far too focused on her own thoughts to properly socialize. 

The thought that had entered Autumn’s mind like a bolt out of the blue and spread its creeping tendrils of paranoia like a corrupted weed, or more pointedly like a dark mushroom, was a ‘what if?’

What if the hag hadn’t passed through this way, but was passing through?

Autumn swallowed heavily. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck as her mind raced. Back on Earth, she’d read many tales of cruel witches, of foul hags and their ilk. And in these sordid tales—fiction as they may be—the foul creatures possessed many dark and strange powers, often including invisibility, illusion, and more notably, shapeshifting.

So, the question that beleaguered Autumn’s poor mind was this: what if the hag was disguised as one of them?

Autumn tried her best to relax, to not let the sudden tension show. Her robes felt stifling, her sweat like fire as it ran down her back. Each and every breath she drew in her battered lungs was like swallowing razor blades. Autumn was well aware that she was spiraling down into an abyss of terror and what lay down there held its arms open in a horrifying welcome. Pulling back from the edge was no mean feat; the amount of fear she extracted from herself could coat a canvas till it was black. It weighed heavily on her brow. 

With a clarity of mind she asked herself: why? Why would the hag—assuming she was even here—hide amongst them?

For fun? Some sick pleasure or obscure goal? 

Perhaps, but Autumn suspected it was her fault. Granted, she always assumed that, even with evidence to the contrary. She was trying to get better about her self-image, but it was a hard road. It didn’t help that in this case; she believed her fault in this to be true—ignoring the fact that this was all speculation so far. 

The banshee had said before that the hag mocked her with her presence. Perhaps that meant more than Autumn had realized? 

Maybe the hag kept tabs on the banshee? Autumn would’ve if she held a pact over such a dangerous creature as she. 

But, if so, whom among them could it be?

Anyone. The answer to that haunting question was: anyone. 

Autumn even contemplated it being herself for a brief moment. There was a non-zero chance that she was some sort of clone or a magical duplicate sent off to infiltrate and kill ‘herself’, but she promptly shook off that crazy thought; too much said otherwise for her to truly believe it. Not to mention the banshee could properly tell; them being pacted together, after all.

So, who among them was the most suspicious? 

Casting her paranoid gaze forwards, Autumn took in the backs of the Elven pair. What did she even know about them, or Elves in general? Fuck all. However, in saying that, she’d seen them get along with a familiarity that was hard, if not impossible, to fake. The slight gestures and idle comments shared between them that spoke of a history shared. And while Autumn was jaded enough to think that Leshana could have faked her care for Autumn, she didn’t think so in this case as what would the point of it be?

Even in disguise, the hag would have no cause to keep Autumn unharmed and well. If, in fact, the hag was Leshana, then it’d been easy enough to just let Autumn die in her sleep.

So no, Autumn didn’t suspect Leshana and thus, by proxy, Vuriac. 

What of the Lepus then?

Autumn turned her attention towards them now. The pair were walking ahead of her, keeping their voices to hushed tones, wary of the tunnel’s echo. From what Autumn could gleam from the bits and pieces of conversation she overheard, they were mainly just discussing the journey and the dangers they were likely to face. Things such as how long they’d traveled and how far they thought they’d gotten, as well as what kind of monster they’d likely to come across in this dreadful underworld. 

Nothing that’d give Autumn any clue whether they’d been replaced or not. 

Not that she knew for certain that had happened. It was just her mind picking the worst option it could conjure to torment her. 

However, there was something that raised a red flag in her mind. Early today, when they’d first met, Rarg had said that Valérie was noticeably quieter ever since she’d entered the underground. At the time Autumn had dismissed this as simply idle chatter and that the spearwoman was simply afraid like the rest of them. 

Maybe she was afraid of the dark? She’d thought. But with her mind scrambling and searching for anything to bite into, this took on a whole new meaning. Had the pair been separated before they’d met? They’d never said, nor did Autumn think to ask. Now it was too late; if the hag was truly amongst them—again she was just wildly speculating—it’d tip her off. 

Autumn’s back was awash with sweat. 

Paranoia was a dog that bit both its foes and master both. Autumn knew that if she couldn’t tame it, she’d make mistakes she couldn’t take back.

“But…” that creeping voice spoke in the back of her mind, “but what if you are right?” it asked, knowing she had no answer. 

However, no matter how much she scrutinized the Lepus pair in front of her, she found nothing odd about their behavior. And besides, they weren’t even the most suspicious of the group. 

Autumn cast a look over her shoulder. Trailing behind the group as a rear guard was the Inferni pair of Bardos and Yuupis. The pair were quiet, completely silent even as they held their vigil over the way the group had come. Too quiet perhaps? Autumn hadn’t heard Yuupis speak since the Y-junction, and Bardos hadn’t spoken at all. 

Were they dead? Killed and replaced by the hag when nobody was looking? Or perhaps even before that? 

How had Bardos survived where his brother and father had not?

Autumn felt sick as she thought those awful thoughts. Besides, she could see for herself the sheer volume of grief that poured off the berserker like endless waves in an endless ocean of loss. 

Why would someone fake that? She’d not told anyone of her sight. In truth, it’d slipped her mind to tell them. She was far too used to her own group who already knew. 

So no, it was unlikely to be him. She hoped. 

That left Yuupis. If anyone was suspect, it was her.

A pair of dull eyes turned to meet her blackened orbs. Oh, how she hated them, those eyes that lacked life. They were too familiar, haunting her in bathroom mirrors. Autumn suspected she was at least a little biased, but she could not find it in herself to trust someone she could not sense, could not peer into and see their colors. She wanted to cut them open, peel back their layers one by one to reveal the paints hidden inside. 

What kind of canvas would emerge? 

“Is there something wrong, Autumn?” Yuupis asked, her voice just as dull as her eyes.  

Autumn blinked owlishly. “No. It’s nothing, just checking in.”

Yuupis nodded. “Things are fine back here. No need to worry. You just keep looking forward and keep yourself intact, alright?”

wasteawar

Who could it be, or is it all a red herring? Who can say?!