Shadow of the First Sin

Valerian

We had been traveling southward for half the day, and the sun was already beginning its descent. I scouted ahead in the air, while Finn covered the ground, blending seamlessly with the shadows of the trees. But Silas...

“Where’s Silas?” I muttered, coming to a halt mid-air and scanning the area.

After a few moments, I finally spotted him—far behind us, struggling to keep up and gasping for breath.

“Wait... for me!” he called out in a wheezy voice. “Can’t... go... on...” His words barely escaped his lips before he collapsed onto his knees and then flat on his back.

“Looks like we forgot our luggage,” I sighed, signaling Finn to stop and turn back.

We made our way back to Silas, who was lying on the ground, gasping for air and flopping around like a fish out of water.

“You alright?” I asked.

“Oh, yes! Absolutely peachy! Never better!” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve got me, a humble bard, trying to keep up with an avian who can outfly anything, and an assassin who can pop up on the other side of the fucking world!” His frustration boiled over as he ranted.

“Actually, that’s a common misconception about Talons,” Finn chimed in. “We can only emerge from shadows within our line of sight, or those that are close enough to us. Plus, we have to know exactly where that shadow is.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” Silas retorted after a long pause, his glare intense.

“Uh, I guess not,” Finn replied awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

“Now, now, Silas, no need to be grumpy,” I interjected, noticing that Finn was close to tears. He was still just a kid, after all.

“How can I not be grumpy, Valerian? I can’t feel my legs! And my breath... it’s so short, I’m barely able to talk!”

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his whining. “You seem to be talking just fine to me. In fact, you’re talking more than usual.”

“Oh, really? Let me tell you som—” a loud echo reverberating through the forest abruptly cut Silas’s tirade off.

The ground shook, and the leaves on the trees rustled violently. The impact had come from further south, and it was close.

“Let’s go!” I commanded, grabbing Silas and launching into the air, with Finn following on the forest floor.

“Finally!” Silas’s earlier frustrations vanished as he shouted with glee. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? To be carried through the air, to feel the open skies before me and the fresh breeze in my hair?” He continued his excited rambling until we finally arrived at the source of the impact.

At the heart of the forest, a clearing revealed a small settlement. At its edge, Orion stood beside a charred fallen tree. Knowing his temper, it wasn’t hard to guess what had happened—he must have punched the tree out of frustration. Because, as everyone knows, punching a tree solves all your problems, just like kicking a cursed skull into a rift transports you to another world!

“I’m surprised you didn’t try kicking that poor tree into a portal,” I remarked as I landed and set Silas on his feet. “Maybe it would’ve taken all the trouble you’ve caused with it.” My irritation was clear as Finn arrived, joining us.

“I don’t have time for your snark, kid! I need to find Kaela, and fast,” Orion shot back, his fists clenched in a way that spoke of a guilt no one should bear. He blamed himself for everything that had happened, and I knew that no amount of sarcasm on my part would change what was done. We needed to put aside our bickering and work together if we were going to set things right.

“No, we’ll find her together,” I said, turning my attention to the settlement behind us.

Strange creatures, different from goldlings, stood in a defensive line before us. Children peered out from behind their parents, fear etched into their faces.

“We mean you no harm, people of Isilrun!” I called out in a loud, steady voice, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. “We’re searching for two women—they look like us. Has anyone seen them?”

An elderly creature, leaning heavily on a wooden staff, stepped forward. “Oh, we’ve seen your kind,” he said, his voice laced with bitterness. “Far too much of it for my liking.”

Unlike goldlings, these creatures were easier to distinguish. Their skin tones varied—most had a blue-green hue, while others ranged from pale purple to light pink, and some even had deep red complexions. They were taller than any of us, even taller than Orion, who had to tilt his head upward to meet their stern gazes. The children, while shorter, had a similar appearance to the adults, and if not for their youthful faces, one might easily mistake them for grown-ups.

Their clothing was simple, almost primitive. Some were draped in animal furs, while others wore slightly more intricate coats made from the same material. The smaller ones wore fur hats made from creatures like skunks, unusually large rabbits, and foxes. The larger figures wore the pelts of bears or deer, while a few left their heads bare, allowing their long, braided hair to flow freely. Inked tattoos—straight lines and circles—adorned the faces of the adults, simple designs that may have held deeper meaning, though not something a stranger could easily decipher. Their faces bore a strong resemblance to humans, though longer and more muscular, with elf-like ears that didn’t stand up straight but curled back, resembling ram horns.

They were armed with spears and bows, all pointed in our direction. It was clear they were ready for a fight, driven by fear and distrust. I couldn’t blame them. We resembled those who had invaded their home, and who knows what atrocities our kind had inflicted upon them? They seemed poised for war, but I wasn’t about to give them that. I needed to make them believe we differed from those who had brought them misery, that we were on the same side.