Elegy For An Epilogue

Soft footsteps resounded into the overbearing silence as Blackie trodded into the camp. People glanced at the wolf before their eyes lifted to the girl on top of its massive back. Fear, apprehension, and unsurety clouded their faces as Cecillia stared back wordlessly. She didn’t care much for their attention as their heads returned to their previous tasks after a couple seconds.

Thinking about it, it was a scene that she had seen many times before, and it was also something that made her uncomfortable. She pressed Blackie forward as faint murmurs rippled through the air. Whether she wanted it or not, Willowmere’s hushed voices carried heavy despair directly into her ears.

“—I don’t want to die.”

“—Mom, I’m scared…”

“—Are we going to be okay?”

Everyone Cecillia passed looked uneasy on her way towards Doran’s tent. She was aware of how the people huddled away in an attempt to cower from their fears. How they nervously looked around at every dark shadow. A crawling sensation rippled down her skin and Cecillia frowned. She didn’t want to stick around any longer.

Her heels tapped into Blackie’s sides and they hurried along their way. Just up ahead was the tent, and there the man was, sitting on the same stool. Laen was nowhere to be seen, but she assumed the boy was safe.

As she approached, Doran’s head raised and he looked straight at her. The man looked ragged. His eyes were drooping with exhaustion and his face was drained of color. Dark circles hung above his cheeks and the man from the morning was nowhere to be seen.

Cecillia motioned the wolf forward and came to a stop a meter away as the man’s gaze tracked her every move. Without a word, she dipped her head and Bluey bounced down into her arms. She poked the slime softly and in the next moment it spat out the bow and quiver.

“Thank you for letting me use these,” Cecillia said and hopped down from the wolf. She walked over to the table, carefully placing both objects on the surface before she started to undo the straps of her backpack. It only took a moment before that too was neatly folded and placed onto the table.

She turned back to the man and he only nodded slowly. The man didn’t seem to acknowledge that she had gotten a new pet or the items on the table. Rather, he looked directly at her with a piercing glare.

Cecillia wasn’t sure what to make out of it. The Crimson Squadron she had met hadn’t really said much about Doran other than what had happened. And her general image of the man was just a grumpy person. Thus, she returned a blank stare towards the man.

“What?” Cecillia asked.

The man didn’t reply, but his body shifted and he stood. Turning his head away from her, Doran walked over to the table and grabbed the backpack.

“Why are you giving this back?” he replied with a question of his own. The tone of his voice was overwhelmingly severe. “Did I not give this to you?”

Cecillia's head tilted. “It’s yours.”

Doran seemed different to her somehow. She couldn’t quite place a finger on it, but Cecillia thought that he was acting strangely. It might’ve just been nothing as he looked tired and she was never really good with people anyways.

With those words, she turned and began walking back to the wolf. There was a tingling feeling on her back as she felt the man’s eyes drill holes into her flesh. And just as she was about to hop on Blackie, his voice echoed through the air.

“You met them.”

Cecillia’s eyes widened slightly, wondering how he knew. But with the blackened material staining the ends of her clothing she figured it wouldn’t be hard to distinguish. She turned around slowly and faced the man as he walked up to her.

“Are you hurt?”

Doran stood close enough to the point where Cecillia had to crane her neck all the way up to even meet his eyes. She noticed that a confused look of indecision filled his face, flickering between anger and an odd guilt. Cecillia hunched her shoulders from the proximity and took a step backwards.

“No, I’m not hurt,” she replied. Cecillia didn’t understand why the man was asking such a question when she was perfectly fine. He should have easily been able to see that as well.

“You should be hurt,” The man narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here? Alive.”

Cecillia opened her mouth to answer, but she found herself without words. For some reason, it didn’t feel right to tell the man what had happened. She didn’t know how he would react or what he would do if she told him. Biting her lip, she only met his gaze with silence.

“Girl,” Doran stated and he exhaled a heavy breath. “Just what did you do?”

His voice was quiet yet intense, the kind of tone that made it seem that he was holding himself back.

“I didn’t do anything,” Cecillia said stubbornly. “They found me in the forest first.”

Doran scowled and his voice dropped a pitch lower. “Then why did that woman attack you? She isn’t the type of person to attack someone for no reason. Even then, you should be dead.”

“Cassandra protected me.”

As the name left her lips, it hung in the air frozen in time. Doran’s expression wavered and something within his eyes trembled. His hands clenched into fists and a sliver of blood dripped to the floor as his nails dug into his skin.

“Cassandra…” he echoed. The sound was faint, almost absent yet still Cecillia was able to catch it. She looked at him as his gaze fell to his hands, green eyes searching for any source of their solace.

Minutes passed as Cecillia stood by the man. They both were unmoving; one deep in thought, whilst the other waited patiently. Until finally, Doran released a heavy sigh and once again regarded the girl within his vision.

“If Cassandra helped you… You must know what happened then,” he said softly. “About them, me, the Crimson Squadron.”

It seemed like Doran already came to the conclusion and Cecillia answered with a single nod. “They told me what you did.”

“I see,” the man smiled bitterly. “So you know what I am then. A monster and a traitor. What do you think of me now?”

Cecillia looked up in surprise only to see the man looking at her deep regret. The pain and sadness that hadn’t surfaced for decades now stared right back at her. What did she really think of the man? Even after knowing what he had done, she hadn’t considered Doran any different to the first time he had threatened her. He had only been protecting what he cared for at the price of his own family.

Although, it was that one crucial piece that she couldn’t understand. Cecillia frowned as she pondered over the thought. What could possibly be powerful enough to warrant such a price? The unknown answer might’ve been one of the reasons why she was unable to share Naira’s sentiments.

In the end, Cecillia shrugged. “You are a grumpy person.”

“...Grumpy,” he repeated. Doran seemed to be unsure of what she had just said and only looked at the girl strangely. “How am I grumpy?”

Cecillia frowned, wasn’t the fact that he was a grumpy person obvious? Her eyes blinked as she looked up at him, dumbfounded that he had to even ask. However, he almost looked insulted, as if he didn’t even want an answer to his question.

“You…” she retorted and shook her head. “You are truly a troublesome man.”

Blackie joined in with a light growl and Bluey made a strange squishing sound. Doran glanced at her pets before a weak laugh left his lips.

“Maybe so,” he sighed and the man’s head lifted to the skies.

Cecillia’s eyes followed as the dusky horizon sent orange rays streaking across the world of blue. The autumn breeze blew by gently and to the girl, the man seemed much more relaxed.

“She still has that temper doesn’t she?” Doran asked without looking at her.

Cecillia turned to him, “Naira?”

“Who else?” he chuckled. “It’s nice to hear that Cassandra’s barriers are still enough to extinguish those flames. I suppose you must’ve met Derrick as well.”

The image of the spearman popped into her head. Even though he had placed a knife against her throat at their first encounter, he had given her some information entirely free of charge.

“He was nice to me,” Cecillia answered. “But I didn’t like that Cyrus guy. He was really noisy.”

“Cyrus,” Doran smiled wistfully. “That child should be a young man by now huh?”

His words were lost in the fleeting whisper of silence as Cecillia stared at the man’s figure. The Captain of the 63rd Crimson Squadron, with his hands clasped behind the back, hair billowing in the faint winds and closed eyes. Something about the sight echoed a heavy murmur within her heart.

“Do you miss them?”

The words left her lips after a moment of melancholy. It was a question that came from within her, someplace where an existential wall blotted her view. Perhaps…

Doran’s head finally lowered to look at her and his pupils shuddered slightly. His mouth opened to answer, but the sound of a chiming bell reverberated over the encampment. Three consecutive tolls rang through the air, each with a second in between as the man was interrupted.

“What’s that for?” Cecillia asked, turning towards the source.

“It’s an announcement,” Doran grumbled and started to walk in that direction. “Follow me.”

His steps were quick and Cecillia hopped on the wolf, chasing after his rapidly fading figure. Whatever level he was, his agility must be off the charts for his walking speed to be faster than a normal person’s running speed. As they continued, a stream of people formed between the many tents, flowing towards the direction of the bell.

Many people stared at Doran, and Cecillia noted that they looked at him differently. Some looked at him with fear, while others were filled with awe. Yet the man seemed to be unbothered by the attention as he strode to the center. There, Layla along with the rest of the former council members were gathered around a pedestal carrying a large bell. As Doran joined them, they shook hands, but it seemed from their apprehensive expressions that even they did not know of the captain’s past.

Cecillia watched as the council waited for the people to settle in the clearing. All in all, she estimated that there were around four hundred former residents from Willowmere. Many had their jobs displayed as her identification skill chimed like a minigun’s bullets. Children settled down on the ground beneath their parent’s legs and whispered about with the other kids. However, everyone’s eyes carried the distant longing of hope as they looked up towards the council.

After a minute had passed, the bell rang once more and silence rippled through the crowd.

“Residents of Willowmere,” Layla began, the sound amplified by what Cecillia presumed was magic. The woman’s voice was steady, but her face didn’t hide the fear and uncertainty that was shared among the people. Regardless, she continued. “None of us deserves to be out here in this forest. The nights are cold, and the land dangerous. Our homes were taken from us, but we must go on.”

Layla paused, letting the words sink in as she swept her gaze over the faces of her people. Families huddled together, the elderly leaned on their sticks and the children clung to their mother’s skirts as they all intently listened.

“We have only crossed halfway of our journey, but you have all been strong, stronger than what should be expected of simple villagers. Windhaven is our destination, and we will arrive at our new beginning. I know that the path will not be easy, but it is the only one that we have left.”

The murmurs of fear and doubt gradually began to shift, replaced by a calming ease. Whispers were shared of hope, survival and the thought of a new future blossomed. Layla took a deep breath as her eyes gleamed.

“Rest easy tonight. We cannot afford to lose any more time. As the sun rises tomorrow, we shall continue through the valley. There will only be two weeks until we reach the Tunnel of Kaust. Two weeks until we arrive to safety. Have no fear, the monsters cannot hurt us. As proven today by our brave warrior, we will reach Windhaven. Thank you everyone.”