Hellion's Reckoning
Chapter 6

The early morning sun cast a golden glow over the forest, breathing new life into Ashryn. She gingerly pulled a weathered black leather journal from beneath her jacket and elegantly sank to her knees beside the swiftly flowing river. The water tumbled over polished stones, composing a symphony that intertwined with the chirping of birds and the whisper of leaves in the breeze.

“Inias...” Her voice quivered as she peered at the tattered leather cradled in her grasp, “I hope you can forgive me.” The journal glided gracefully along the current, carried away by the river as she arose, swallowing hard against the knot in her throat. “For all of it.” Get close to him. That’s what his uncle had told her to do. He had known nothing but ridicule and forced praise his entire life. Just a sprinkle of affection and Inias would melt in her hands.

Ashryn wasn’t sure which was worse, the crescent or the halls of the Nightfang court. Whichever it was, she was glad to be free of both. Chained and forced to display her fire magic or twirl her hips for the crowd’s leering eyes night after night. There was no collar upon her neck within the castle, but the chains were still real.

As she approached her tent, Ashryn hung the jacket on a branch and sat on a fallen tree stump. Her tent, adorned with scarlet crystals that caught the dying light of the sun, stood out among the others with a touch of passionate elegance. Inside, the space was cozy and inviting, filled with furs and cushions to provide comfort during the long nights on the road. Now that they had finally settled, she had organized her belongings.

In one hand she held a knife and in her other a wooden carving of a man and woman together. In front of her sat a makeshift desk she had nailed together for a specific purpose. Ashryn pulled her long hair back into a ponytail and settled her elbows on the table with the carving in hand. Slowly, she began carving the hair from the woman’s head with elegant waves that mirrored her own hair. She set down the knife and placed the statue on the desk with a smile.

“Hi mom,” she said, wiping tears from her cheek, “Hi dad.” From beneath the desk, she pulled a couple of sticks of incense and a bowl of sand to stick them in. With a light breath from her lips, each stick lit and burned, filling her little camp with a pleasant vanilla scent. She breathed it in deeply and grinned. “I haven’t had time to make an altar for you, but I hope you like it.” Ashryn looked away from the statues whose carved eyes seemed to watch her with a hint of disappointment.

They could not speak, but their words seemed clear. The same words that had echoed in the back of her mind throughout the trip. ‘You’ve betrayed him, betrayed us.’ Slowly she brought her knees up and rested her chin on them.

“Grandma and I, we’re all that’s left.” Ashryn whispered, thinking of her grandmother locked up in one of the Magistrate’s cells. After their return, the king discovered the clan’s secret and had them eliminated. Knowing she would leave with Inias, he left her grandmother alive. So long as she did what he asked, she and her grandmother could flee the Hallow. The king wanted to know all his nephews dealing, what he felt, and to keep him from discovering any Nightfang secrets. Those secrets her clan had before their demise.

Whenever she asked about why they hadn’t tried to end the king’s slow purge of hellions, she could see the guilt weighing on her grandmother. “We sacrificed to protect our clan. It was all we could do.” She would say and hide her eyes, “But it’s never too late to set things right.”

It was on her now to carry the weight of her legacy. The king had taken them all out of fear. Had offered them up to the Magistrate on crimes of treason all because of who they were. They had made it treason to be born a hellion. They declared two centuries ago that the demon’s blood had been cleansed from their line, and her clan masked their devilish nature for years. All those years they hid instead of taking a stand. Many hellions, their people, had paid the price.

She would play along with the magistrate for a little longer. She had not made her vow to kill him in the village in vain. When her grandmother was safe, she could end him and gain Inias forgiveness. “It’s not too late to make things right,” Ashryn said, her eyes finally meeting the statue again. “I’ll hang on a little longer.” The crescent had tried to break her, but she never gave up hope that she and Vestin would escape. Their magic sucking collars hadn’t broken her resilience then. ‘Just a little longer.’ She would remind herself every night.

The king had not snuffed her fire out. He hadn’t broken the hellions. The blood of the innocent had awoken the demons and filled them with resolve.