Chapter 3: No Good Deed

I.

She was gone.

The plate shifted as broth spilled from the bowl.

Nico shuffled forward, setting the clinking plate onto the shed’s porch.

“Where are you?” He squinted, peering through the veil of dust and murk inside the shed. “This isn’t the time to be playing games!”

His words carried a faint ripple. The world viewed through his eye was akin to the surface of a pond. Each syllable that fell from his mouth was another stone cast into its surface. He squinted and shook his head. Every time he saw the world this way, vertigo plagued his every movement. Walking felt like swimming, and running felt like treading water.

“Come on out!” Nico yelled, stumbling as he pushed himself to the ground. He grasped a rusted latch in the corner of the room and tore it free. Loose dust flew into his mouth. Coughing, he wiped his eye to get a clear view of the crawlspace. A deep blackness greeted him, but no girl to finish what would’ve been a mean-spirited prank. It was a crawlspace for tools, but that wouldn’t stop a curious child from venturing inside. He poked his head inside for good measure, looking left and right.

She wasn’t there.

But, something else was.

A thin, murky blackness drifted from the darkness from the open crawlspace. It was thin, so thin that it blended with the shadows of the shed’s interior. But, Nico saw it. It drifted from the open hatch to the other corner of the shed to the other. It snaked through the air, guiding Nico’s vision. It swirled around upturned buckets, tacked with three on the floor, two above, and one at the top. It moved to the floor a few steps away toward a pile of dirty towels. Beneath the towels sat a crumpled bedsheet. The inky blot widened as it moved out into the open air, obscuring into the darkness of night.

Nico clicked his tongue. Nowhere to be found, but there was a trail. He stepped out of the shed, leaving the soup where it sit. He had to move, and carrying the food would be a burden. Finding the lost girl came first.

The only thing the girl had to do was stay put. Nico wanted to take care of everything. If she didn’t like the food he brought back, they could have figured something else out. Of the things Nico has complained about with his family, the food selection has never been one of them. Between the bountiful crop harvests the hardy livestock bred to, supposedly, perfection; there had to be something the girl was willing to eat. Then again, Nico has never been a picky eater. You put something that looked mildly appetizing in front of him, and he would eat it.

Twin moons cast shifting shadows through the thin trees. The trees encroached upon the forest path, weeds poking out through the beaten trail. Their shadows elongated, crawling across the ground toward Nico’s ankles.

He slowed down. The shadows licked his ankles. He fought the ground with each step he made.

Nico grit his teeth.

The world spun.

He held his ground.

The inky trail taunted him. It moved over the growing shadows of the trees, dancing along the forest path just a few steps ahead of him.

Nico knew his limit. The trail was ahead. A single path cut through the forest with no twists or turns. He didn’t need his ‘eye’ to follow the trail. So, he could put his eyepatch back on. It wouldn’t hurt anything. He could just do it. It would be fine.

His heart beat in his ear.

If he ran her, what would happen?

Nico didn’t know, and he didn’t want to find out.

If he didn’t find her, what would happen?

Nico didn’t know, and he didn’t want to find out.

Nico clicked his tongue. No time to deliberate on what was the right choice.

He clutched the eyepatch and slid it over his other eye.

The ripples stopped. The black murk vanished in an instant. The weight of the unseen sea lifted from his shoulders. Nico sighed, the strain of just standing in the forest path vanished. It was as much of a relief as it was a reminder of a harsh truth; he was weak. Too weak to fight, and too weak to help one little girl.

She might not be in danger. The woods outside of the manor isn’t known for its danger. Nico spent his entire life out here. He’s never been lost or hurt. No beasts or creatures that might hurt her, as far as he knew. Though, given the family’s Underworld conservation efforts, that may have changed.

But, he wasn’t struggling, he wasn’t hungry. Not like the nameless girl who could hardly stand on her own two feet. The thought of her out there alone spurred him forward. He could think about her safety all night, but that wouldn’t get him any closer to finding her.

Nico ran into the unknown of the forest path ahead, staking what hope he had on the girl’s safety.

II.

Liz leaned on the archway leading out into the Verconis family park. A thick forest personally planted by the family over three generations ago. An unchanging landmark that once served as the family’s hunting ground. Liz knew that furred predators of all kinds once called it home. Back home in Persal, Liz had to hunt with her dad on occasion. Nothing as large as the storied beasts in the woods, but smaller creatures they could manage. Often the prey ended up being a rantalope; a creature with small, beady eyes and a long, bristled tail. Liz hesitated each and every time she knocked an arrow. The moment a rantalope turned their head and Liz saw their pleading gaze, she couldn’t shoot. A habit her Dad made sure to chew her out on every single time.

The maid crossed her arms, nostalgia pricking at her heart and the cold at her skin. Her black robe covered her body, but offered little in way of insulation. She narrowed her eyes down the forest path. Fetching more layers would help, but she wanted to be here for when Nico got back. If anyone found out she left her post, or worse, let something happen to him - losing her job would be the least of her worries.

Nico knew the forest like the back of his hand. The last Liz heard, the family had stopped stocking anything remotely dangerous in the park. It felt like hunting the creatures, or even the thought of violence, was the furthest thing from their minds. Syria’s soil provided for the livestock, and the livestock for the people. As long as there was enough to go around, no one wanted for anything.

The only reason the garden was maintained was due to the family’s conversation efforts. Odd information for a servant to know. It wasn’t her job to tend to the woodlands or the garden, but it was knowledge bestowed upon her regardless. It was hard not to know. Nico’s made a habit of speaking to her about pretty much anything. Their relationship was far from professional. Their conversations often didn’t have much of a point. In fact, Nico made a point not to order her if he could help it. It’s not that Liz was afraid to speak up about it, it’s just that she didn’t feel compelled to.

As Liz questioned her relationship with Nico, stone crunched underfoot. A procession of clanking metal pulled Liz’s attention from the forest to the manor behind her.

Ten men marched forward, wearing black armor that bore the Verconis family crest; a golden circle with a coiled three-eyed serpent at its center. Were marching orders given by the head of the household? The last time the Verconis family's men were mobilized was during the Isle’s founding.

Liz looked past the formation to the two figures at the back. Two women, one she recognized and one she didn’t. Ezia, Nico’s older sister, moved with her hands tucked behind her back and a sword sheathed at her side. The stranger to the left walked, her white hair bobbing in rhythm with the charred tassels of her jacket. As she passed, the lingering scent of soot hung in the air.

A scent she knew all too well. The image of her father entering the room, his face covered in ash, fingers caked with mud. Cuts that never fully healed. A life her father was never proud of. When Liz asked about his job, he often brushed it off with a smile. He painted the excursions into the underworld as if they were treasure hunts. Words like ‘relic hunter’ and ‘historian’ were thrown around. The truth was much less glamorous.

“A Pathfinder,” Liz said, her eyes moving from the scarred girl to the soldiers formation.

Liz had no military background. She never wielded a weapon, never received proper training, but even she could tell something was off.

The soldiers stopped a stone's throw away from the gate. As they came to a stop, they lined up.

“For the dragon!” They shouted, smacking the butts of their spears into the ground. The movement was lopsided either to the left or right. When they stopped, their feet were angled in different directions. To Liz, the only thing uniform about the formation was their attire.

Liz furrowed her brow.Combat drills of some kind aided by a Pathfinder. A Pathfinder who didn’t seem to be from the lower ring, or a Seryan native. She had to be from the Underworld. The longer she gazed at her, the more questions came to mind. Questions that Liz couldn’t ask, not without consequence. It wasn't in her station to question, lest she end up back where she started in the lower ring.

The men pivoted, raising their spears and offering their best attempt at a sharp salute.

“At ease.” Ezia raised a hand, then lowered it. The soldiers’ relaxed their shoulders. One of the men looked particularly winded.

“Not much of a barracks here,” the Pathfinder said, tilting her head. “I thought you ritzy folk would have your own military or something.”

“We truly do live in different worlds, Lady Alexandria,” Ezia said, facing the stranger. “That might be true outside of Serya, but the Divine Chrysalis doesn’t see much need for military force.”

“Just ‘Alex’ is fine.” Alexandria frowned.

“Understood.” Ezia said. “We’ll be engaging in a joint exercise…”

Liz turned her attention from the new crowd to the forest path.

The joint exercise had her worried. However, she still had her job as Nico’s servant. Though, it didn’t really feel right to call herself that, even if that was her job description. If she asked Nico what she was, he probably wouldn’t give her a straight answer either. Then, it was probably her job to decide. For his sake, Liz continued her vigilant watch at the gate for her friend's return.

III.

Weeds crunched under foot as Nico stepped out of the forest path. He fought through the shrubbery and the veil of mist that barred the shrine’s path. A shrine that marked the end of the forest path. The familiar mist thickened with each step, but the shrine stayed visible as if it repelled it. The girl wasn’t likely to get lost in the mist with the shrine serving as a beacon. The girl didn’t move toward the manor, so this was the only place she could be.

He walked onto the aged steps, keeping his gaze on the ground with each step he took. The stones were old and cracked. One wrong move and he could easily break his head wide open. As he ascended, he saw faint glimmers of moonlight reflected on the ground. Loose pieces of glass and shattered shingles littered the ascent. Each step carried with it another memory.

Anytime Nico fought with his siblings, this was his refuge. His home away from home. He had a desire to have a place to call his own. No one came here to worship anymore. It hadn’t been used in almost fifty years, or probably more. Nico’s research enlightened him that the shrine once belonged to an old harvest spirit. A spirit put out of the job by the patron deity of Serya’s Harvest. Serya put the spirit out of the job, and Nico put them out of a home. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He frowned, looking past the steps toward the shrine’s entrance.

The open doors resembled the mouth of a dragon, with a breath of moon light spilling onto the stairs below. The image prompted Nico to halt his steps. Not out of fear, but necessity.

He grasped his eyepatch and shifted it from his right eye to his left.

The world rippled and changed.

The mist thickened. Nico finished the journey to the stop of the stairs, avoiding the glass and debris. The inky trail split the moonlight and spiraled into the dragon’s maw. He stepped inside the shrine, not giving time for his anxiety to halt him. The trail curved around the room, moving behind a wooden pillar at the shrine’s center. Floorboards squeaked as Nico walked forward. His eyes gazed unmoving at his feet with each step he took. Each creek felt like a chuckle of the spirit who once called the shrine home. The thought frightened him, but the thought of the girl being in danger frightened him more.

Nico rounded the pillar and walked to the back of the shrine. Night air spilled through an open door. The last time he was here, the room was sealed. The door at the back was barred with wood and nails.

The trail moved outside.

Nico’s teeth chattered. He ran through the opening in the wall. His heart threatened to leap from his chest.

A violent gust blew, catching him as his foot caught the open air.

Nico fell onto his rear. He shook his head, his eyes tracing the inky trail.

It vanished.

It went over the edge.

Nico crawled toward the opening. He peered over the dilapidated wood of the balcony.

The inky blot was swallowed by the white clouds below. They drifted through the air like the fish in the pond. The moon’s light danced through the sky below, riding the ripples of the world and the currents of the air. A sight whose beauty Nico couldn’t appreciate. He stared downward, following the dark trail until it faded into nothing.

The girl was gone.

The girl he was responsible for was gone.

He just wanted to help.

She was his responsibility.

Nico yelled.

He grasped at the air and yelled.

Not for the child whose name he didn't know.

Not for Liz, or his brother.

He screamed at his own powerlessness. 

He failed.