In The Eye Of The Haunted
written for Flash Fiction Friday 328, event hosted by @flashfictionfridayofficial
WIP ⚙ The Mortal God
Trigger Warnings ⚙ N/A
Rating ⚙ Gen
Wordcount ⚙ 784
The fucking guards are still on their trail. Cileida can hear them, not as faint in the distance as she'd like them to be. They definitely can hear the clanging of Leta and her armor as they rush through the village. A lantern ahead on the main road turns on. Cileida tugs at Leta to follow her and ducks into the side streets, wincing at the clashes of metal on metal. She can nearly hear the Blight's mocking laughter in the shards of Inbetween she catches in her friend's armor, leaving a trail for their pursuers.
Then, like a blessing, she spies it. Out of the village, but little ways away, a hut sits atop a small hill. There's not a lantern on the path, and with the new moon there won't be light to catch in Leta's armor. The tug of the Inbetween is strong too around it. Haunted. Perfect for hiding.
"This way," she mutters at Leta, and dives out of the village.
Leta only curses under her breath before following her. Cileida is even pleased to find that her friend's footfalls are lighter on the soft grass. The incline isn't that steep, and the window blinds are all closed. But Cileida arrives at the door and finds it locked. Her brows furrow.
"Problem?" Leta asks, only slightly out of breath despite the run they've made for it.
Cileida ignores the Blight's laughter in her friend's armor and takes out her lockpicks. "Not at all." The lock opens easily, if louder than she hoped, and the door opens with a creak. The two of them filter in, shut the door behind them, and sigh in the complete darkness. Come morning, the guards will have lost them completely.
There's a creak in the dark. The Blight cackles. Cileida remembers this is a haunted house seconds before she sees the glint of Inbetween in a blade, and by then it's too late. Even if the presence holding a knife to her throat is far too real to be a haunting, if the way Leta startles and raises her glaive is anything to go by.
"Never did I think I'd have to deal with thieves," a voice — young, male, rasping from little usage — says behind her.
"Not thieves," she tries, raising her hands in surrender. "We're just trying to hide, I swear."
"In my house?"
"We didn't think anyone lived here," she says. She hates that her voice breaks at the closekness of the knife.
The guy stills, quiet in the dark. "You're not from around here."
Leta moves, metal clanging on wood. "That doesn't sound like a question."
"You could do with not antagonizing the guy with a knife to your conspirator's throat."
"Don't mind my friend," Cileida says, quick as lightning. She shoots a glare in Leta's general direction, even though she can't see her in this dark. "She doesn't have any man–"
"Quiet down," the guy says, a whispered command. Cileida's jaw clicks shut. Close — to close — voices fill the night with shouting and curses. Cileida swears she can hear the guy growl. "You brought guards to my door?"
Cileida chuckles nervously. "We really thought no one lived here."
The guy curses under his breath and climbs to his feet, leaving Cileida free to breathe. She startles when a floating golden light appears at her shoulder. Two more lead further into the house, illuminating bookshelves full of jars and a desk of papers and cauldrons and a necklace whose whispers brush deep in Cileida's mind. The guy is standing, hand held out, a blindfold covering his eyes, with but a jesture, the carpet close to the bookshelf moves and the trapdoor beneath it opens up.
It's not the hut that's haunted, Cileida realizes. It's the guy, and the thousands of eyes that glint from the Inbetween reflecting golden in the few pieces of jewelry he wears.
"Not a sound from you two until I've dealt with those guys. Then I'll figure out what to do with you," he says, pointing just slightly off from the trapdoor.
Cileida looks back at Leta. Her friend is biting her lip and shooting glares at the guy. Her eyes flicker with doubt though when Cileida stands up and hurries over to the trapdoor. She can feel the guy's gaze on her through it all too. Even through the blindfold. Even though his head doesn't move from Leta's direction. The voices outside grow stronger.
"You have three seconds," he says.
"Fine," Leta snaps, climbing to her feet. The Blight's low chuckles turn to laughter as Leta climbs down the ladder. And Cileida swears, seconds before the trapdoor closes, that the Blight shuts up under the guy's stare.