Rune Mage [Fantasy/Adventure | Book 1 +2 | Complete]

Chapter 4: The Fat Pigeon of Bad News

The sunlight streamed through the dusty windows of the attic room Seiren had rented. She rubbed her eyes, the last familiar but nauseating trickle from her usual nightmare disappearing. Her stomach felt sensitive, as if one wrong scent could send it lurching.

On cue, the smell of burnt bacon reached her nostrils and she sat up and gagged. She reached for Madeleine's necklace and put it on, still retching.

The same dream, huh? came Madeleine's sympathetic voice. Her presence solidified as Seiren woke up properly.

It'll be nice if I can stop reliving that bloody night. Bile came up Seiren's throat. Ugh.

The images flashed before her eyes: her, only twelve, clutching with bloody hands her sister; the first retaliation rune she thought of, drawn in chalk in front of her; the twisted, bulbous-nosed face of that Hannan as he escaped into the night.

And the unfortunate, unintended victim of that retaliation rune: her mother.

Seiren's mouth dried. She buried her head in her hands, her bedraggled blonde hair poking in all directions.

You need to stop blaming yourself for that night. You did what you could.

"Can't." Seiren shook her head. The memories of her father's glassy-eyed stare at the ceiling and the sound of Madeleine's fading breathing made her chest tight again. Her hands, the same size as Seiren's but with bitten nails, had been so cold. The crushing panic and desperation was still so fresh in her heart, the moment Madeleine's heart stopped and Seiren's world splintered.

Well, no wonder you get nightmares.

Easy for you to say. You just switch off. Seiren bit her lips at those insensitive words. Sorry, Madeleine.

Stop blaming yourself, silly.

Seiren rubbed her head. No matter how many times Madeleine might say those words to her, Seiren still couldn't shrug off the guilt that perhaps she could have done something more that night. Maybe if she hadn't been so panicked, so desperate. Maybe if she had had more practice with runes. Maybe if she hadn't quarrelled with Madeleine that night and made her sleep in their parents' room, then she wouldn't have gone down to investigate the ruckus with Father. Then at least she would still have her sister here.

Would you have gone through so much at King's Academy then, though?

That's not the point. You wouldn't be dead.

Madeleine chuckled. Seiren got up with a sigh, shrugging out of her night dress and slipping on her tunic dress and leggings. After she'd stomped into her boots, she glanced in the dusty mirror. Her choppy shoulder-length blonde hair stuck up everywhere as usual. A hasty hand running through it softened some of the bumps and spikes. Long-lashed dark eyes had shadows of poor sleep beneath them. She pressed her lips together, making them disappear. That would do. She wasn't going out to seek a boyfriend or for an interview anyway. And yesterday's clothes weren't too ragged to be reworn.

A tapping on the window alerted her to mail when she washed her face. Drying it with a towel on the side, she marched over to the dirty window and threw it open. Warm morning air poured in. A fat grey pigeon sat there, tilting its head. A scroll was tied to its leg, a violet rune glowing on the tiny paper. She tugged off the string. The bird hopped on the spot, cooing. She poked it with a finger. It ruffled its feathers at her, affronted.

Beneath the rune on the scroll was the wax stamp of the Council of Mages. She waved her hand over the violet rune; the security seal dissipated.

'For the attention of Seiren Nithercott.