Chapter Text
I tremble as the wind cuts through my bear arms. Twilight is falling, but still the ship has not fled the port. For the hundredth time, I wonder if they know of my presence here, or are just taking precautions. Or maybe they’re just on a lunch break.
I wrap my arms tighter around my legs, willing some warmth into their numbness. The last of the sunlight shimmers on the waters, shrouding me in a dense fog and tensing my heart when I realise it’s time to move.
I risk a glance down the crow’s nest and realise I cannot see the bottom of the deck anymore. Technoblade never dies. It’s part encouragement, but part expectation. If I don’t make it out today, it can’t be good. Dream has been relentlessly searching for me for years. There can’t possibly be a decent reason why.
I untangle myself from the nest and give one last glance to the deck before risking descending. The rope burns my numb fingers, but I hardly notice as my attention darts to the figures rushing around the edges of my vision. I halt, clinging desperately to the web, waiting for my thoughts to calm past the shouting men looking for me, and, undoubtedly, the rest of my platoon.
Don’t abandon them, coward.
It takes me longer than usual to realise the voice isn’t mine. What am I doing? I told Sam and Ranboo to run, but what if they don’t make it out? Will it be my fault for not helping them?
No. If I try to find them now, I could risk all of us getting caught. Then, who would tell the outside world of where we’ve been all this time? We all had lives before we lost our memories and were stolen by mind control.
I hold my breath and finally drop silently onto the wooden deck, the floor rocking just the slightest beneath my feet. All those years of practice finally pay off as I weave through barrels and supplies and reach the railing. The sound of the ocean waves crashing against the ship overrides my natural instinct and I begin to panic as I blindly search for the lifeboats. Anyone could come up behind me and I wouldn’t know.
I stare into the gloom until the shadow of a boat cuts past the fog. It’s too far to reach. I’d have to pull it down a stone’s throw to actually be able to board, and by then I’ll be eating stale bread again. Or worse.
I cower behind a storage crate just in time to listen for footsteps thunking up the boarding ramp.
“I want all eyes on this ship! It doesn’t leave the harbour until we’ve found that boy!” Dream bellows, and for once I hear some haste in his voice. Not enough to indicate any real emotion, but just enough to know that I’m more of a threat to him than he first thought.
The men escorting him quickly disperse and I’m left to hope that the pounding of my heart doesn’t give me away. I clutch the sword in my hand. How did this happen? When I fought Dream I was bound to die on the spot but something inside me that I didn’t know was there bloomed into reality. I felt alive and…knew for the first time exactly what I was doing and why I was there. I was fighting against the man who had used me and taken advantage of these children. I don’t yet understand this world. I feel like I’ve only known it for a quarter of a life.
No one should live with this kind of chasm in their mind. Knowing they know too little yet they don’t know what should be there. Amnesia, or something close to it. Unnatural and criminal. A violation to the rights of any human being.
Is this normal? To be able to conjure objects from thin air if my will is strong enough? I’ve never seen it happen or heard of it before. Is this just a consequence of my limited mind? Or is this the very reason Dream is after me in the first place?
You’re not special. You’re an anomaly. Nothing more than a pawn in his game that you don’t know the rules of.
But I’ve always known I’ve been playing it.
A few hours ago I might’ve been a pawn, but not anymore. I refuse to be controlled. I refuse to let anyone get the best of me. I won’t let him get to the others so I won’t let him get to me. He’ll spend all his energy searching for me. It’s time to go.
With a new resolve set clearly in my mind, I vault over the crate and lean over the balcony once more. I spot the lifeboat and wish that Sam and Ranboo were here with me. We could escape together. We don’t have to be separated. Maybe they’ll make it on their own. We can find each other in the mainland.
“I found him!”
I whip around just in time to dodge a blow to the head. I know I shouldn’t hurt this man when his eyes are glowing purple and he obviously went through the same things I did, but I can’t get caught. He doesn’t even see me holding a blade.
I stab him. He falls limp to the deck. I don’t hesitate to shove the invasive voices from my mind. They want more. I try to ignore them.
Knowing my life is now steadily slipping through my fingers, I try to figure out a quick way to get the pulley system of the lifeboat active. I need to crank it down far enough to get in, then I can cut the ropes, but by then it’ll be too late. I can hear the men storming in my direction, they just don’t know exactly where the shout came from. I have the fog on my side, even if the protection it offers is minimal.
I instead attempt to shimmy up the metal pole connecting it to the deck. It works. I tumble into the boat and it wobbles precariously, cutting my balance in half. I pick up my sword and start sawing the chord. Each snap of the rope energises me and encourages me to saw faster.
That’s it. Leave them behind. Save yourself.
I’m not doing this for myself. I’m doing it for all of us. I won’t let the voices guilt me into turning back and risking the death of all of us. Just keep going.
The chord snaps right as I hear the men approach me and shout. I fall, the boat tipping to hang from one end, and I snatch the seating board before I tumble into oblivion. The men near me on the deck begin shooting arrows. One lands in the wood, and one shaves my shoulder. I don’t cry out, but instead clamber up with the aid of the arrow and try to swing the boat around so it shields me and gives me time to cut the rope.
“TECHNO!”
Sam’s voice echoes over the water and when it reaches me, I almost fumble in shock. They’re alive. They’re alive.
“Sam! Is Mark okay?” I cry, unsure where I’m sending my question as I hang for dear life.
He sounds to be struggling equally as much as me. “We’re already in the water! But there’re no oars!”
I grit my teeth as the boat swings the wrong way and almost reveals my bare back to the Weavers. I clamber further up, one seat at a time, and begin sawing. It takes significantly longer than the first rope and it gives me time to contemplate my next moves. The others are down there—so close to freedom, but with no way to protect themselves or reach me if I fall. I’d get pummelled by the Weavers’ arrows before they even reach me. I need to use my boat to escape. We can only hope to meet each other somehow after that.
“Don’t wait for me!” I scream down to them, hoping they listen. “Go! I’m right behind you!” At least I hope so. Who knows what’ll happen when the chord breaks, with a clear view of the target on my back.
I brace myself as the final threads begin to snap and I float in the air for a moment before I hit the surface mercilessly and my breath escapes me. My entire head rings and I tremble with shock that I’m terribly unprepared for. I simply lie breathless against the hull of the boat, praying the wooden seats above me will prevent my inevitable annihilation. My mind wanders and the throbbing finally starts where adrenaline kicked in before. I’ve never had a concussion before, but this sure darn feels like one.
Stay there. Let the boat float away. Leave them behind. Death is better than what’s waiting for you.
Somehow, the warning in my mind overrides the melting clarity of my brain and I push past the evil festering there. Suicide leads to nothing but more pain. For those who lose you. And I really don’t want to find out what happens after death.
I groan, my whole body wracked with bruises that spike black into my vision. No. I’m going to get up. I’m not going to die. Technoblade never dies.
I sit up and take the oars, thankful that my boat has some, and I start pushing. With no idea where I’m going, I persevere through the pain. An arrow pierces the flesh of my thigh and I scream but endure it. I’m so close. The ship has almost vanished, and the fog conceals me safely in its blanket. My victory is fruitless when my energy wanes and leaves me alone in agonising solitude. I cannot call for help, so I let the current secure me. Please let this wind take me home.
Even so, there’s nothing more to do as exhaustion tears me into restless unconsciousness.
—
Darkness. I never wanted to come back here. No, make it leave. Set me free. Please. Please. Leave me to sleep. I never want to wake up to this again. I never want to wake to another empty horizon.
I hear something familiar. Garbled and distant but unmistakeably human. Maybe I’m not back in the darkness. Maybe I’m still free. My mind can’t make out any thoughts or memories apart from the arms picking me up. Only when my leg uncomfortably jostles do my eyes flutter open and a groan of agony parts my lips.
A woman with long pale hair and sparkling blue eyes smiles down at me.
“We got to you before them. You’re safe.”
Somehow that gives me all the comfort I need and I drift off once more. Somehow, I don’t feel so alone.
—
When I wake, the flickering of candlelight pierces the black beneath my eyelids and causes me to sigh and snuggle deeper into my blankets. I feel numb to whatever pain lingered before, but that woman’s face lingers in my mind, steady and sure. No, not a woman—a girl.
I hear shuffling and the clatter of something being placed beside me. Daring to open my eyes, I see the girl gazing blankly at me, but not at my face. She seems to be lost in thought. Seeing her now with a clearer mind, I notice she’s only a couple years older than me. Maybe fifteen.
I sit up suddenly, prepared to attack if this turns out to be a trap. This seems to startle her as her ocean eyes dart to meet my blood red ones. Recognition flickers over her features and she steps back from me.
Kill her. Before she kills you.
“I brought your breakfast…” she whispers, clearly fearful. “But…you—I didn’t know that you were a Weaver…”
I grit my teeth but push the feeling aside. “That obvious, huh?”
She doesn’t stare at me, she looks into my eyes, and for some reason I feel a connection with her. “It’s…very striking. Not strange, but unique.”
She doesn’t trust you.
She still seems frightened no matter how little her voice quavers.
“Don’t worry. I ditched those nerds—they’ve got nothin’ on me.”
She laughs and her tense muscles ease until she’s grinning at me. “We patched up your leg for you. It looked really bad.”
“I don’t feel anythin’. You gotta teach me how you do that,” I say, pulling back the covers to see the perfectly dressed wound.
She laughs again. “Thanks.”
I suddenly turn serious, looking at my unfamiliar surroundings. A small tent with a bed, a table with some toast and cut apples on it, and my sword leaning beside it. They obviously aren’t Weavers if they’re afraid of me and are willing to put my blade within arm’s reach.
“Where am I?”
She tilts her head curiously. “You don’t know?”
I shrug. “Well, I sorta ran away from Dream on a tiny rowboat and passed out in the middle of the ocean. So, it’d be great to know I’m not in Timbuktu or somethin’.”
The puzzled look doesn’t leave her face. “How did you escape Dream? Everyone who’s captured by him…never comes back.”
I stare at her, realising it’s true that it should’ve been impossible to escape. Not wanting to reveal the truth, I just say, “There’s a first time for everythin’. I made him think I was loyal until I caught him vulnerable. Then I ran before he could seize my mind again.”
It’s only a half-truth, but it satisfies her.
“You’re in Katharr. But more specifically…in the Stranglers’ Den. Don’t worry—any stories you’ve heard of our name, they’re not true. Our job here is to dissuade others from entering Katharr, not kill them. We don’t want them to get hurt,” she says, quietly.
“Uh, I’d love to say that I know what you’re talkin’ about, but I really don’t. When I was taken…I lost my memory. I don’t know what happened for the first ten years of my life.” I try to say this as casually as possible to reassure her that I’m not fazed by my lack of knowledge, but she seems disgusted.
“That’s terrible,” she whispers. “I can’t imagine…why would they do this to you?”
Blood. Kill him. Kill…her.
I shake my head. “He does it to all his Weavers, takes them as children so he can influence them and also instil fear. I don’t even know what my real name is.”
She flushes and looks away from me, her eyes darting. She shakes her head in denial. “That must be awful. I’m so sorry…I can’t help you.” Then she looks purposefully into my eyes and smiles despondently. “But I’m Niki, and it’s such a pleasure to meet you.”
I feel slightly awkward revealing my made-up name to her and knowing it sounds childish. Even so, I grin and say, “Technoblade, at your service.”
Niki mirrors my grin. “Is Techno okay?”
I shrug. “I suppose I’ll take it. It’s better than Dave at least.”
She doesn’t keep the bubbly mirth from her voice as she replies, “Ohh, now you’re tempting me.”
I feel warm on the inside, finally feeling to be a part of the whole of the world. Even if it’s faint, I know that there’s so much more good waiting for me outside those tent flaps.
“So what was that about Katharr? And what is Dream even trainin’ an army for?” I say finally.
Her eyes glisten, and for a rare moment, guilt freezes my veins. I shouldn’t have brought this up…
“There’s a war going on. Dream is looking to conquer Valeria, but with a lack of faithful soldiers, he steals children to do his bidding. He has an influence…it’s terrible. No one comes back. And from what you say, it’s worse than any of us thought. No one knows his side of the story, but our elders hardly remember the days of peace. It always seemed to be Dream at the helm with some dark magic trailing behind him.
“The Stranglers are the natives here in Katharr. We used to be Kathanders, but Dream took us over and the Kathan people couldn’t leave—the world feared we had been influenced as he built his fortress not far from here. Those without hope joined him of their free will, but that led to prejudice against us all, and we didn’t want any one else doing what some of us had. So, we—the Waywards—live here and steal what we can to delay this terrible outcome. The Wardens live and the border—in Wayward’s Bend—to protect strangers from straying too far. I believe in our cause, even if others don’t know the truth.”
I raise my eyebrows. “So how big is this place? The…mainland?”
“Valeria? Oh, there’s the kingdom—Lanistell, where the capital Paravelia dwells—and the four countries; Ridanhyll, Cantas, Falmair, and Katharr. We have a sister land many call the Broken Isle—where Dream is from. When he arrived in Valeria, that’s when the war started. No one knows how he was so powerful, but he’s still alive after decades. The Waywards wish to go east and find the Isle. They want to discover secrets to take him down, but…I think it’s futile.”
Now it’s my turn to be inquisitive. “Will you go?”
She looks down. “I don’t know.”
Silence for a moment.
“Have you happened to see two boys, one a little older than me with blonde hair and scars on his face, and one with dark hair—about eleven?” I say, suddenly hasty. “I left with them but we got split up…I need to find them.”
She looks at me with gentle pity. “I haven’t seen them.”
My gut clenches and I fear the worst. If Katharr is really as bad as Niki says, I can’t trust them to last very long unless they find their own Wayward friends before Dream finds them.
I rip my blankets back and leap to my feet, “I can’t stay I—”
I yelp and collapse into her as lightning agony tears the flesh of my leg apart. I try to push off her, but she tightens her grip around me.
“Techno! Our medicine only numbs the pain—it doesn’t speed up the healing process. Just…be careful.” She sets me down on the bed and I don’t complain when she hands me two crutches. “I’ll show you the camp. But you have to stay here while you heal.”
I growl under my breath but comply, still thankful for the unexpected aid. Getting up shakily after her, I mutter, “I can’t stay. Dream will find me.”
She doesn’t seem to hear me.
We make our way outside and the dazzling sunlight seems so welcome and warm compared to the gloom of the island. I open myself to the blast on my senses, staring out into the campsite. Charred venison with every inhale, the taste of sweat taken over by fresh sea salted air, so, so many people going about their day with smiles on their faces. No laps. No sword fights. No archery practices. This is what freedom looks like.
I grin.
The grin fades when I come to a realisation.
Before I can warn Niki, a boy bounds toward us.
“Niki!” he beams, waving at us. “Is this the boy that you found on the boat?”
I stare at the boy—an strangle resemblance between him and Ranboo hitting me. Ranboo’s eyes are green and this boy’s eyes are grey, but they’re almost the same age and his mop of brown hair reminds me so much of Ranboo. But then I also look at him and see his bubbly personality—nothing similar to Ranboo’s shy reservedness. Still, it causes some nostalgia and heartache.
Looking over the rest of him, I note his rugged dress with patches and tears and holes. A smaller reflection of Niki’s rugged skirt. These people may be free, but they still have their struggles. It makes me concerned for what I truly missed on the Obsidian Isle. I wanted freedom so badly that I never considered what could be waiting on the mainland, and what Dream’s army really is for.
“It is,” Niki replies, beaming back at him. “I was just showing him around the camp. You can join us if you like.”
The boy approaches me heedless of my questionable eye colour and origins, saying, “My name is Karl, what’s yours?”
I freeze. This is too similar. Niki and Karl’s ages almost exactly match Sam’s and Ranboo’s. Even their hair colours are roughly the same. And the way that Niki looks at Karl with those caring eyes…
I swallow the bile in my throat as Niki answers for me, understanding my lack of voice even if her interpretation is off.
“This is Techno. He’s still recovering from his injuries, so be mindful of that.”
I internally smile at her using my nickname to introduce me. She already seems comfortable with me no matter my background. That’s how I know she’s a genuine friend and not another one of Dream’s tricks.
“Or you can call me The Blade,” I add nonchalantly. “Whatever works for you.”
Karl’s eyes sparkle as a child’s should. “Can you—”
Niki places a hand on his shoulder to cut him off. “Perhaps we shouldn’t give him more reason to injure his leg while it’s still healing.”
We both know perfectly well what Karl was going to ask, and it only makes me grin mischievously.
I lean down and whisper in his ear, still loud enough for Niki to hear, “I’ll show you a few moves. Later.”
His eyes light up but Niki solemnly shakes her head. It seems she found the joke amusing, but her reaction is deeper. “I’m sorry, we can’t do that. The settlers are preparing to leave and we need to be able to send them off with enough supplies. Besides, fighting is against our code. We’re Waywards—we warn and aid and heal. If we learnt to fight, even against our enemies—if what you said is true—we would be attacking innocents. That’s not right.”
I think about what she’s said. She’s too correct and it makes me wonder.
Would I be able to kill Ranboo or Sam if either of them were trying to kill me? Sparing them would do nothing but prolong their torture but killing them would stain my hands with more than just blood. My conscience would be the one fighting myself.
Blood. Blood. BLOOD.
“I need more nerds like you in my life,” I say, trying to lighten her heavy words.
“Would you like to see the healing tent?” Niki offers, gesturing to an area to our right with a few nurses hurrying to and fro. “We send medicines to the Wardens to aid in their fight and sometimes come across a few lone survivors from their village raids. I could teach you a thing or two about how I healed your leg.”
I nod, not having much training on that front considering Sapnap thought of injuries more as a tool for instruction or a hindrance when the weak ones couldn’t follow out his orders. He made us push ourselves to our limits or die of exhaustion. That’s why the best I could do for Sam’s mauled face was tie some leaves on it.
“Karl,” I say, turning to him. “Can ya bring my breakfast to the healing tent?”
“Okay!”
Niki leads me inside and I’m met with a crazy assortment of seeds, flowers, berries and vines. Most of which I’ve never seen before, but one that looks extremely familiar.
I wander over to the table of assorted blossoms and pick up a vase of fresh orchids, picking the pink one out of the cluster. Although the voices are already practically silent after my ordeal in the ocean, I notice that this flower, unlike the one in the vial in my pocket, has a far fainter and more unnoticeable scent. It’s just a normal flower. I stare at it, puzzled until Niki taps me on the shoulder.
“Are you alright?” She says kindly.
I almost don’t respond, realising now how the kindness of others can cut the voices off more than the scent of my flower.
“Yeah. Just rememberin’.” I turn to her. “Have you ever seen a flower like this before?”
Pulling out my orchid, I present it to her, and she seems puzzled.
“But that’s just a pink orchid,” she questions.
I shake my head. “Smell it.”
When she does, her eyes widen, and she seems breathless.
“But—I never—where did you get that?”
Hope begins to lighten my chest. “Do you know what it is?”
She takes the vial from me, calming down enough to study the dried petals. “I’ve never seen one before but have been told of this scent. No regular orchid smells like this—this is zephoraya.”
After a moment of admiring, she continues.
“Zephoraya—the greatest medicine. Not just for physical wounds—it can heal the mind. Some sort of powerful magic allows it to heal burns—those sorts of external wounds. It grew in fire, native to the Broken Isle.”
I stare at the flower in Niki’s hand. “I got it from a stranger,” I say, recalling the memory. “How he got his hands on it, I’ve no clue.”
The voices cackle at my ignorance.
You’re afraid. That’s why you have it.
They mock me but I know underneath their words is a silent hiss at the thought they can be silenced by a flower.
Coward.
Niki gestures to the vial, “May I?”
I nod, watching as she tips it out ever so gently as to not tear the papery petals. The flower—although small—emits an aroma that fills the tent in an instant. She takes one of the wilting orchids out of the jar and brings it into contact with the zephoraya. Instantly, the orchid flourishes and blooms larger than all the rest in the bundle.
“Why do you have it? Were you injured?” Niki asks, unintentionally curious with most of her focus on the zephoraya before her.
I take a deep breath. “There were side effects that came with becomin’ a Weaver. If I didn’t have this, I may not be here now.”
She knows not to question me further, so she quietly hands the flower back to me. Before she can say anything else, Karl enters the tent with my breakfast tray in his arms, beaming like a child.
I nod as Karl gives me the tray and eat as dignifiedly as my famished stomach will allow.
“Karl? Would you like to explain how you helped me patch Techno up?” Niki says with a smile.
About two hours pass where Niki and Karl give me full explanations about their culture and the practices that have kept them healthy, along with some active presentations on dressing wounds with anything one could find in the wild. Knowing how to look after myself creates a great deal of confidence within my soul when I think about next facing Dream.
Once I’m reinvigorated after a bellyful and a rest, Niki helps me to my feet and leads me outside with the intention of meeting the Wayfarer—the leader of the Waywards in her clan.
The man I look upon is not whom I would expect to chief a company of healers. His brow is cut and his eyes sharp and focused, yet his chiselled jaw is set with a charming grin that settles a friendly enough temperament. He’s currently distracted, discussing something with a gathering of elders, but it isn’t the normal sort of exchange. His personality is too…extravagant to be used in a formal setting.
His dark skin is contrasted by a pair of blue-grey eyes, framed by two long charcoal braids. As he finishes with the elders, he swivels around to face me with open arms.
“Ah! This is that little man we found in the boat!” He reaches his gloved hands toward me and shakes my hand with both of his. “Such a pleasure.”
I raise my eyebrows at him but don’t say anything. Instead, I note how he must’ve chosen to wear a long trench coat just so he could twirl it around as he walks.
“Alrighty then,” he says, bowing deeply with his arms outstretched. “Kallisto Avery at your service. The Wayfarer of this fine establishment.”
I nod respectfully. “Technoblade.”
He chuckles. “A fine name.” He puts his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. And you must tell me where you got that sword of yours from. Absolutely delicious.” He smacks his lips against his fingertips.
I look at him sideways. “Well, you see, sir, I could never taint your perfect establishment with such discourteous methods of…obtainment. You see, I can’t imagine healers like yourselves would dabble in such frivolous affairs like, well, thievery for example.”
Avery grins. “Well, it’s just my luck that you got to it before I could.” He throws his free arm out. “Besides, I couldn’t deprive you of that beauty. It suits you. I’m not much of a…fighter anyway.”
“Glad I could be of service.” I brush his arm off me to make sure we’re looking level at one another. “But my hard labour comes with a price. You wouldn’t happen to have a spare horse I could borrow for a little while?”
He looks disheartened. “I’m growing fond of you this past minute. You can’t leave so soon.”
“I have my own business,” I say, crossing my arms. “What’s in it for you, anyhow? All you do by my stayin’ is spend precious resources.”
“Stay. At the very least until you heal. I won’t leave someone alone in the Wood.” For the first time, I look at him and see a deep sincerity in his eyes—absent of carefree foolishness. Perhaps this man is wiser than I gave him credit for. Or he simply is kind-hearted—something I’ve been exposed to so little that I don’t know what to make of it.
“Is there any way to repay you?” I offer finally.
Avery laughs. “Repay me by healing your darned leg and getting your arse outta Katharr, that’s what you can do. I won’t stand to see more children lost in this dark place.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, then glance at Niki who smiles back at me.
“Why are Niki and Karl here, then?”
The Wayfarer falls silent.
He falters when he sees me looking expectantly at him.
“They aren’t Weavers if that’s what you’re asking. My wife fell with my home, and, of course, when you adopt a child it’s hard to see them go. My heart was torn in two, and oh, it was such a difficult choice to send her off with a friend. But, that little bugger ran straight back to me after she learnt how to look after herself. She’s more than capable now. And that rascal of a boy, Karl, was orphaned and left to die in the Wood. If it weren’t for my girl, he wouldn’t be here,” Avery explains.
“I would join your rebellion,” I say. “but I’ve gotta find my friends. And the longer I stay here, the worse it’ll be—for all of us. Dream’s after me. He’ll have your heads if he finds you harbourin’ me in your camp.”
“HAH! Our heads! Ah, that’s brilliant,” Avery guffaws, resting his chin on his hand thoughtfully. “You know, I think I’ve been about…this close to death a good thousand times. Please, your being here does nothing to hinder us. We’re already walking the plank as it is! You are entirely welcome here, my friend.”
I grin, thinking back to my life on the Obsidian Isle and realise that if I survived under Dream’s nose, these Waywards can too. “Thank you, sir.”
He smiles lightly. “Call me Kal, or at the very least, Kallisto, if you prefer. You’re part of this camp now, if only temporarily.”
I nod, looking again at Niki, who is now speaking with an older woman, pointing at a bunch of weeds in her hands.
“Niki told me some of you were plannin’ an expedition to the…Broken Isle?” I ask as Kallisto takes a seat on a fallen log. I sit opposite him.
His blue eyes glint. “I won’t go. It was the Wardens’ idea, and we can’t afford to send many over. We’re needed here. I…have been trying to persuade Niki to make the trip. Of course, she’s conflicted with the idea. Wherever she goes, Karl will follow. If you’d like to, I can arrange for you to go. It would be the last place Dream would look for you.”
I’m warmed by his unexpected kindness. “No. I need to find my friends.”
He claps his hands together. “Well then! That settles it. We’re both staying. In the meantime—why don’t we share our expertise with one another. I’m sure you have a few things you want to learn from the best healer in these parts. And I wouldn’t mind learning a sword trick or two.” He leans in and whispers. “Just don’t tell the others. They don’t…encourage the craft.”
At that, I snort. “Know a private place somewhere round here?”
—
“Techno!” Karl cries, his eyes sparkling as he bounds towards me.
I spin around to face him, diverting my attention from where I was saddling a peanut coloured horse. I stare at his unusual attire—a thick woollen coat and trousers. Niki comes up beside him wearing a similarly thick dress and jacket.
“What’re you wearin’? You’re gonna boil in those,” I say.
Niki chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, we were only trying them on. Karl ran off before I could get him to take it off.”
I pull the strap tighter around the steed. “’Just tryin’ them on’, huh?”
“For our trip.”
I stop. For some reason, I’m more disappointed than I thought I would be. “So you’re goin’ to the Broken Isle. You betta tell me all about it when you get back and find me one day.”
Her hesitation is enough for me to question what I just said. I look at her face, and she solemnly shakes her head. Before she can explain, though, Karl butts in.
“We’re going to go to travel around the world! Niki’s gonna show me all her favourite places,” he grins.
I raise my eyebrows. “What of Kallisto?”
Niki shakes her head. “He has a duty to his Waywards. He’s going to go stay, but he’s going to send us off by boat so we don’t run into any Weavers on the way. I was wondering…will you come with us?”
Don’t trust them.
I’m taken aback by the request. I’ve only been here for a month, but already Niki and I have grown a bond of close friendship—enough, at least, to make her want my company if possible. I haven’t had many genuine friends, and this gesture warms my heart enough to feel guilty about what I’m about to say next.
“I can’t. I was gonna leave today. My leg is strong enough to ride now, and I’m beginnin’ to grow anxious about my friends,” I explain.
She’s quiet for a moment. “But that’s not the real reason. You could look for your friends with us. Your being with us won’t put us in any more danger than we would otherwise be in.”
I sigh. “You’re right. It won’t.”
Even though she doesn’t push for answers, I feel a duty to give her a reason. Especially when she was the first to look past the dread in my heart and the red eyes. She trusted me despite that.
“Because…I need a fresh start. I need to sort myself out. Away from these eyes.”
You can only trust yourself. But…even then, can you?
The voices trail off in a cold, gargling laughter that echoes into Niki’s next words.
“Find someone you can really trust. It’s not good to live alone. You need people in your life. And those people will appreciate you, I’m sure.”
I smile faintly. “Thanks.”
“I won’t forget you Techno!” Karl says, bouncing into me, wrapping his arms around me and letting go before I can react. “Goodbye.”
I snort. “See ya. Don’t get yourself killed.”
“They haven’t got a chance.”
Karl runs off and Niki is left standing beside me sadly.
“I’ll miss you.”
I look at her solemnly. “I wasn’t that good, was I? One less Weaver in your life.”
She embraces me briefly, looking at me meaningfully as she pulls away. “One less friend in my life.”
Her heart-warming statement leaves me speechless for a moment. How can a stranger look at me with such trust in her eyes?
I nod. “Say farewell to Kallisto for me, will you?”
She smiles. “He’s going to miss your sword lessons, you know.”
I shrug. “Somethings just can’t be helped. Gotta learn to be less clingy, honestly.”
Niki laughs.
I mount my horse and clutch the reins. “Oh and tell him he probably won’t be gettin’ this one back,” I say, nodding to my mount. “I’ve grown fond of him.”
She pats his mane. “What’s his name?”
I ponder for a moment. “How about Carl with a ‘c’?”
She laughs even harder, and I leave her with that image of her smile in my mind. I can trust her. I realise that now. And if I can find trust in more than myself, maybe there’s hope for me yet.
With that, I flick the reins and gallop into the enveloping Wood.
—
I brace against the next wave of gales and cascading sheets of water. I hardly flinch, let alone shiver when the storm crashes the numbing air onto my bare skin. My heart has hardened—less than most Weavers—but hardened, nonetheless. It builds this cold shield around my body that keeps the pain at bay and tightens my grip on the reins. Months I’ve been on the mainland, separated from the only friends I ever knew. What higher power is keeping us apart? Has Dream found them? Are they dead? I don’t know where to start my futile search.
My heart blazes with fiery anger at the thought, and I coax Carl faster. He doesn’t object as he flies into the Wood. My legs are too tightly cramped to fall off his back, anyhow.
Why do you want to see them? Do you think they could possibly care about you? They only wanted to escape.
My jaw clicks as my teeth grind. Who the hell do these voices think they are? To use me as a toy? Meddle with my thoughts and criticise my every move? I’ve had enough! Dream is the one who did all this! The war, the lives of these children, my memories, my freedom. Now I’ve become some sort of terrifying creature stuck between sides. The Waywards only cared for me because we were alike. But now that they’re gone, I’ve no one. Nothing.
I may as well drift into the smoke and ashes that my destiny has formed around me.
You don’t need anyone. You’re stronger than all of them.
I start. The Egg is what that man called it. That’s where the voices come from. That’s where I was for four years before I became a Weaver. But why? Why me when there were thousands of other children to choose from? I glance at my sword—the one that Kallisto had eyed with awe just weeks ago. Is that why? Could I be…
I scoff at the thought. No, faelyns are animal hybrids. There’s nothing special about my physical capabilities other than being a child with the skills close to a warrior like Dream. I’m smart, I know that for certain, but I can link that to the Egg even though I know nothing more about it. Besides, I don’t look like an animal. Niki said the faelyns obtained some physical attributes of their animal when they came of age. It’s impossible. I would know. The sword just has to be pure luck.
The faelyns are dead. All of them. The current king is an imposter—a fool—not the heir of a faelyn. He took advantage of the war to gain power. That’s all it is. That’s the end of it. The end of the faelyns. The only reason the war is still going is because some of the humans recognise what the faelyns fought for and are willing to rise up against the crimes Dream has committed.
Carl’s huffs make it into my conscience and guilt clenches my heart until I pull him to a stop.
“Sorry, buddy. I got carried away.”
I glance at the sky and notice the clouds are clear and wonder how long it's been since the rain let up. I steer Carl to a clearing and hold tight to my vial. Zephoraya. That’s its name. It sounds so surreal, but I quickly inhale the scent with desperation. Instant relief tickles down my spine and I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the flashes of light that slide beneath my eyelids.
A mother with long, dark hair, and a father with a glowing face and bright blue eyes. I see flashes of a mop of brown and a bright, beaming smile. Ghosts of laughter and a gentle whisper of a melody, like a lullaby. A family. Somewhere out there. Beyond Dream. Beyond anywhere my mind could imagine. So very far away.
I’m lost. But at least I know the thoughts that come after the memories are mine. No voices, but pure, clear longing for love.
I heave myself to the ground and stare into Carl’s deep eyes.
“Should I find them? If I find them, I can understand who I was…”
Carl sniffs.
“But I can’t. I don’t remember them. Could there be a way—” I search my steed’s eyes for a sign. “Sam knows how to look after himself. They’ll be fine without me. I need to find my own way. For years I’ve been relyin’ on my own strength…but being apart from Niki and Karl—all of them—I don’t wanna be lonesome anymore. I can begin again on my own.”
Carl nudges me thoughtfully and blinks. I smile, and the sound of a stream pricks my ears. I lead him towards it and kneel on the shore, splashing my face and drawing my long, brown hair back. Past the gushes and foam, something catches the light of the sun. Some colour in my reflection that I’ve never seen before. I stare at it, and make out the colour of pure, blue irises, glistening with warmth and contentment. I’ve come to peace with myself, and I can see it clear as day now. No more furious red. No more voices.
Then I hear a snap. Far off, echoing like a whisper on the wind. My ears are alert, my eyes sharpen and the hair on the back of my neck twitches with anticipation. I can feel my body flaring with an energy I never thought possible. I could catch an arrow mid-air, or track down a crow at midnight.
That’s when I spot it. Against the bristling leaves and crowded trees. Far off in a dark, forgotten corner of the bush—a glow. White and empty. Full of darkness. When I make contact with it, I freeze, feeling a nerve twitch against my neck. My hairs stand to attention, and a zap of electricity pierces my eyes. I blink rapidly to rid myself of the dull pain.
When I look again, it’s gone, and I stare at the empty space, trying to remember what fazed me so much. Strange.
Then I catch Carl’s eyes once more and manage a smile. New life. New start. The Weavers are behind me, and I have a new story to write.
I am Technoblade. And Technoblade never dies.
“C’mon Carl, you’ve had your break. We’re gonna find a family.”