Those Who Would Not Be Gods

11. Night: Edith

The cells were silent, save the gentle snoring coming from Raff's cell. Moonlight silvered a rat's fur for a moment as it scurried from one cell to the next. The gap between one stone and the next was a chasm to be leaped, the iron bars trees to slide past. Tiny paws picked out the spaces between strands of hay. It slowed as it approached the newcomers, rising to sit on its back paws and sniff the air tentatively. Heartened by what it sensed, it dashed forward, skittering from stone to stone. With one last great leap over an outstretched arm, it snatched up a fallen morsel of bread. Pleased with its prize, the rat sat up and began to nibble on it, tail wrapped neatly around its feet.

A muffled thud.

The rat sat up on its hind legs, ears perked, nose twitching on high alert. Beady eyes darted across the hallway, examining the sleeping forms opposite, but none were the source of the sound. The morsel hung, forgotten, from a forepaw.

The scuff of a boot.

All senses turned toward the hallway. Whiskers trembled, ears spun. It sat frozen but for its heartbeat, little organ pounding so hard it seemed to make the whole creature twitch. Nothing. It saw nothing, no motion, no shape. Nothing, and yet the scent of blood and rot filled its nostrils. It trembled, fear of the predator unseen forcing it still, fear of the predator's lunge urging it to run.

The darkness fell apart like a cloak, revealing the shape of a tall, handsome man with a roguish wave in his hair. Startled, the rat squeaked and ran, vanishing through the cells from whence it came.

Cajetan glanced at the fleeing rat, a momentary smirk on his lips. Tawny eyes searched the cells. When he found her, he raised his eyebrows. Sleeping soundly? How sweet. He raised a hand; a ray of light emanated from his palm and splashed across her face, making her pale skin look nearly pure white. Edith frowned in her sleep, brows furrowing. A kind of half-swipe momentarily interrupted the light, and then she opened her eyes.

--

Edith blinked, wiping her eyes. Why'd I wake up? The whole room seemed a little reddish and washed out, like she'd turned her closed eyes to the sun, but it was too dark for that. There was almost no light at all, in fact, the windows too small to let moonlight or light from the soulstream through. She blinked a few more times, waiting for the world to clear up. Still in the cells. There was Giada, sleeping soundly, and one of the boys was snoring in the next cell. She wiped her eyes again and looked towards the other cells. Had one of them done something?

She froze. That silhouette. Those boots. Her eyes travelled slowly upward. Him. Fear twisted her stomach. Instinctively, she cringed back, away from the bars. Where was the other one? The one in the green cloak. He wouldn't have sent him alone, right?

From the other side of the bars, a hand beckoned her closer.

As if in a trance, Edith stood. Slowly, she stepped toward the bars. He waited, staring down at her. She stared back, clasping her hands together so they wouldn't tremble. What does he want?

"You were caught by the Shrine," he hissed, low, quiet. Dangerous.

She nodded, cringing back. Then her brows furrowed, and she stood tall, defiant. "But I found it," she whispered back.

Cajetan's eyebrows raised. "Are you certain, this time? You know how he feels about... your mistake."

Edith hesitated. She hadn't... hadn't found it, per se. But she knew exactly where it had to be.

He let out a long sigh. "I knew this was a fool's errand." His hand dipped towards his hip, Edith's gaze racing him there to the dozens of daggers arrayed around his belt.

"No, I—" she burst out. Cajetan winced back; she swallowed, then tried again, quieter. "The Schola. You'll need a key to get in, it's...there's an alarm on the whole area. Under the music room, there's a circle and a trapdoor. Sab, he... he said something, the magic was being regulated, or..."

Boredom clouded Cajetan's gaze. He gripped one of his daggers.

"There's caves under the city, and it's full of ghouls," Edith managed at last. "And down there, I can sense it so strongly it's..." she searched for the word in her limited Boscese. "Overwhelming."

A smile spread over Cajetan's face, almost more frightening than the frown. He released the dagger. "I think he will be quite pleased to hear that," he said slowly, almost savoring the words.

"Then—he'll give me my magic back, right?" she asked.

All she got was a smile. And then the man was gone.

Behind her, something shifted. She spun, on guard, but it was just Giada. The woman blinked awake and frowned at her. "You say something?" she muttered.

Edith shook her head. "It must have been a dream," she said.

A dream. It felt like one. The end was finallyin sight. This horrible void, the lack, the inferiority—it would all be oversoon. She'd have her magic back, and she'd be rid of this country once and forall. A smile spread over her face as she laid back down on the cell floor.Somehow, the stones felt softer now. The darkness was once more a friend. Itwas mere moments before she was back asleep.