Chapter 6

Walking around in the shade of dawn, Zylah followed behind the male quite closely.

In the past two days, she’d been learning all sorts of things from him. What he was, although she didn’t quite understand what an Elf was, but now understood he was different from a human. She also learned he was half of one of those void-like, cruel creatures called Demons .

She’d been a little put off discovering that, as she didn’t really like those ugly monsters. They were mean, and they’d bitten and scratched at Zylah unprovoked in the past. She’d had many fights with them.

Her feelings were quickly put at ease as he moved onto other subjects, buried by the knowledge he shared with her. Every minute of every hour, he taught her a new word. Whether it be root , like what dangled from the ceiling of her home, or burrow , which was the style of home she had.

In the dark of night, Jabez had managed to convince her to let him leave – supervised, of course. Zylah didn’t plan to let him out of her sight, as he’d proven he was a naughty Elf-Demon male who played tricks.

Once they were outside, he taught her about the sky, the world, and gave basic names for everything. Tree, grass, moss, moon, stars, lake, water, and so much more.

Today, now that she was letting him venture further – her trust in him had grown – he was teaching her specifics.

As he crouched down low into a patch of grass, she inspected the clothing he wore. She now knew the names of the various items, as well as their colours .

The black material attached to the bottom of his brown cloak crimped around the backs of his heels, while the plain hood rested between his shoulder blades. Since he’d begun to wear it, and the cream tunic underneath, he stopped shivering as much. He appeared to be a cold creature, which made sense since he lacked hair on most of his body, unlike Zylah, who was covered in sleek black fur.

His mauve pants were tight around his knees as he parted grass stalks to better reveal a yellow plant in the ground. The black leather around his calves creaked with a strain over his taut, bulky muscles. Wayward strands of his long, straight white hair slipped forward to hang down his broad chest, while his ears twitched, making the golden earrings dangling from them glimmer. A streak of moonlight glinted and sparkled off the singular bangle around his left biceps and right ankle.

Zylah was happy to know what most of these things were, and momentarily looked down at her claws as she subtly wiggled her fingers. To understand her own body had been utterly enlightening, and she was growing more beholden to the male.

“Dandelion,” Jabez stated quietly, plucking the small yellow flower. Still crouched, he turned and lifted his dark-red eyes up when showing it to her.

“Dandelion flower?” Zylah asked, crouching next to him, and she purposefully brushed her shoulder against his.

“Yes, correct. This flower’s name is dandelion.”

Even though she didn’t understand the structure of his sentence, the fact he continued to speak to her as though she did meant she was piecing it together in her mind. The language was complex. She often made mistakes, but he gently interrupted her responses to correct her.

Although that crushed her confidence, she knew he had good intentions behind making her feel this way. This was a step in her development of talking , as he put it. She liked the clarity it brought to her mind, although much of what remained was a jumble of pictures rather than words. With Jabez’s help, that would fade and her abilities would grow, and she was appreciative of that.

Still low to the ground, he leaned on one hand and shuffled forward to obtain a stick of leaves. She came closer to inspect it along with him.

“Leaf branch,” Zylah stated confidently.

For some reason, he quietly chuckled at that – which instantly had her shoulders turning inwards self-consciously. She’d learned what chuckling was by asking him when he produced such a pleasant sound. She did this often, pointing at him and making him explain until she understood something he said or did.

“Branch,” he stated, before gesturing to the small, bushy deep-red leaves. “Leaves.” Then he raised his hand towards the tree beside them. “Claret Ash tree.”

Just as he went to place the branch back on the ground, no doubt to show her something new or further explain something in better detail, she picked it up. It appeared so tiny and delicate between her thick fingers and sharp, curved black claws.

“Red,” she stated, before she cupped the side of her head in deep thought.

He paused and waited for her to attempt to state what she wanted, which she couldn’t always do. She appreciated that he never rushed her.

“How red?”

“ Why red?” he asked, raising a singular white brow.

Her orbs flickered a reddish pink, and she chittered quietly.

“Embarrassment,” he stated, pointing to the corner of his eye. “This colour means embarrassment or shame. Well, that’s what I’m assuming, at least – if all you Mavka have the same orb colour shifts.”

Embarrassment? Shame? That’s what this tight emotion constricting her chest was called? She hated this feeling. It always made her want to squirm.

The colour deepened until he placed a warm hand on her shoulder. Her gaze had dropped to the ground, but she lifted it upon his touch. He didn’t do so often, but she liked how big and warm his palm was.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

His eyes bore into her orbs. There was a cold sharpness to them, as though they reflected a hard pain he couldn’t seem to shed, but she noted it was softer than when they first met. Although she didn’t know the word yet, to her his eyes screamed patience. She didn’t think he’d be helping her otherwise.

Then, as if to demonstrate this, he gingerly took the stick from her. “Why is this red?”

“Green,” she stated, looking up at the rest of the tree that was predominantly red with a mixture of yellow, orange, and a touch of green.

“Yes, usually it’s green,” he stated. Then he cupped his jaw as he plonked himself on his arse and crossed his legs. “Fuck. How the hell am I supposed to explain something as complex as seasons? It’s not like I can just change them to show you each one.”

Zylah sat down as well. When Jabez rambled like this, he always attempted to explain something – even if it wasn’t certain she would ever understand. But she liked his deep, honeyed voice, and the way it lulled her mind and had her insides fluttering – she could listen to him endlessly.

Jabez obtained a new stick, one barren of leaves, and drew into a patch of dew-wetted dirt. He carved four lines before quickly getting up. He inspected the Claret Ash tree and then climbed it to obtain a branch that still had green leaves.

He laid it next to the first line and placed the yellow-leafed one next to the second line, then removed the leaves from another branch and placed it next to the third. Lastly, he obtained some flowers and put them on the last line.

He started with the barren stick and showed it to her. “White,” he said, before making his hands trickle through the air. He’d shown her this motion when referencing rain. He hugged himself and purposefully shivered. “White. Cold.”

Zylah understood, and she perked up, lifting her skull higher. “White rain?”

He chuckled. “You got that fast. Snow. White rain is called snow.” In response, Zylah nodded as if she understood – which she did, surprisingly. He placed the stick on the ground. “Winter. Snow happens in winter.”

He moved onto the next branch.

“Flowers bloom.” He picked up the flower and fisted his other hand to show a bulb. He opened it. “Bloom.” To make sure she comprehended, he placed the flower in his fist and pushed it out as if it was growing. Then he referenced all around them. “Flowers bloom everywhere.” He picked up the barren stick and then the green-leafed one. “Leaves bloom, green. Spring.”

She quickly learned that summer was when the trees all turned green again. She also learned what fire was called, and that it was hot, as he used colours and the term “ouch” when touching it. She’d had a lot of experience with that.

Then finally, he showed her the last branch with the yellow leaves. “Autumn. Leaves fall.” He plucked them one by one while showing her what fall meant.

Although this had been a rather slow and lengthy conversation, it showed her the world rotated on a cycle. She’d seen these things and had witnessed the changes. She somehow felt closer to the land around her, and even more at peace within her place among it.

“Seasons?” she asked, peeking at him before pointing at each one. “Summer, autumn, winter, spring?”

His sharp, fanged teeth flashed at her when the corners of his lips curled. “Excellent. Good, Zylah. Yes.”

A small part of her melted under the compliments and his smile, and her chest stung in a wondrous way. For a male who had such dangerous features, and often looked at the world coldly, he’d been rather kind to Zylah.

Slyly and hoping to be unnoticed, she leaned a little closer to steal a sniff of his cheek, before shuddering as she pulled back. She didn’t know the name of his scents, but with the way they filled up her home, she knew she enjoyed them. They were masculine, but light and earthy, like the surrounding forest.

He smelt different, like he’d come from a faraway world to bless them with his scent and presence.

Whether he ignored what she’d done or hadn’t noticed it, Jabez continued his explanation and circled all the seasons with a stick.

“A year.” He did so again, repeating the action. “One year.” He put up a single finger before doing it one last time.

He explained that these seasons happened repeatedly, which she, of course, knew. Zylah just didn’t know why. She figured ‘a year’ was what it was called.

She looked forward to the day they could have a proper conversation and she would understand him better.

She’d like to learn who he really was, where he’d come from, and why she’d found him beneath a bunch of stone. Who was Jabez, and why had she never met another creature like him?

Zylah studied the sharp clip of his smooth jaw, his high cheeks, his stern brow, and deep-brown skin. Her gaze followed the strong line of his nose, and then his full lips that hid sharp razors behind them. Her focus flicked up to his long, pointed ears – a feature she’d only seen on animals and not humans – before looking over his black horns.

She liked his horns a lot, as well as his nails that appeared like small claws. These were features they shared, and it somehow made her feel closer to him.

What she adored most was that he seemed to... understand her, like he’d met another of her kind before. Had he befriended them? If he’d been this attentive in the past, she wondered why they’d left his side at all.

He’d been rather patient in her learning, and so informative that she had hope they would soon be true companions. She wanted to voice how she felt, what she needed, and see if perhaps he knew what her true purpose was.

Why was she here? Why had she only ever met one other Mavka , as he called her? The humans called her Duskwalker. She wanted to know why she had so many names, and what their meanings were.

Her orbs shifted to bright yellow when he lifted his eyes, tipped with white lashes, to her skull. He didn’t grin, didn’t smile, but he had a dark intensity to his gaze that always made her feel uncomfortable in the strangest, but oddly remarkable, way.

Zylah liked having his eyes on her, like he was capable of seeing past the borders of her flesh and her inability to communicate, and truly see her. They pierced so deep.

She chittered happily at him, and a white brow raised back. She came a little closer, wanting to feel his heat she’d only ever felt briefly or get a stronger draw of his scent. To just be near his presence even more.

He looked away too soon, sighing as he did.

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” he stated, disappointing her when he stood and moved away. He looked towards the forest. “I’ll take us to the lake again. I also want to teach you how to transform into your more humanoid form like other Mavka.”

He continued their lesson along the way, showing her different plants while giving her their proper names. He even managed to have them sneak up on a small creature and capture it.

He called it a rabbit.

He directed her to block her nose with earth to hide its scent before he grossly pulled it apart. Although she didn’t like the needless death, and instantly grew sour at him for it, she accepted it. Zylah grumbled the entire time, as he showed her its bones, its blood, and its different insides while explaining it all to her.

She learned in that lesson what an animal was, what kind it was, and...

That her skull matched this creature’s.

It felt wrong to kill it.

With his eyes closed, his body relaxed, and his mind dozy, Jabez wrinkled and wiggled his nose against the musk surrounding him.

For quite a number of days, the mixture of Zylah’s surprisingly pleasant scent – a rather gentle tangle of jasmine and violets – had tamped down the wet dirt, clay, tree roots, and mould.

Once he identified what her particular scent was made up of, his mind put it to the side, leaving the rest strong in his senses.

His sense of smell wasn’t as good as a Mavka, and he thought it may even be weaker than most Demons, but it was still heightened in comparison to humans.

And he was covered in the grime of her home. It clung to his cloak he constantly wrapped around his body protectively. He felt like a burrowing animal, cowering in some pathetic hole in the ground like a mouse.

But it was more than that. Deeper, even.

Once more, his nose wrinkled, and he cringed at the choking memories that rose up from the depths of his mind. Memories of a time he’d much rather forget and always struggled to do so.

A time and place that had greatly shaped who he had become, and it had been hundreds of Earth years since he’d experienced it.

Yet, in the span of an Elf’s life, it was only twenty-one years ago, almost twenty-two. Then again, to an eleven-year-old, who had been trapped for almost six Elvish years, the passage of time had felt both vast and constricting.

Although his prison hadn’t been as dark as this burrow, the shadows had been deep. A green light in the centre of a round room ensured he’d been given plenty of light, protecting him from the sun.

He hadn’t appreciated that false light then, and never grew fond of it. As much as he understood the Elysians – the Elvish – had thought he’d prefer it, considering he burned within minutes under the three suns in Nyl’theria, he’d missed their warmth while he rested in the shade. He’d missed the way they twinkled into a room and cast mesmerising fractals from every reflection.

The bars shielding him had been made of mere silver, gold, and bronze, but they weren’t what truly kept him from bending them to escape. No, the magical reinforcements kept him caged and seething in his confinements.

At first, all he’d smelt was the rock that surrounded him and his own scent, as he was alone for the first three years. But, as he grew older, and his senses sharpened, the more he’d been able to smell beyond his cell.

The scent of dirt that lay just beyond the metres-thick rock. The roots of the gigantic central tree he’d once called home. The smell of mould in the earth, the decay as insects followed the cycle of life.

These things would one day become his salvation, but for many years, they were choking. They’d suffocated him, reminding him that he was deep beneath the ground. Hidden away from everyone, to protect everyone else from him.

Forgotten by all.

And lost within himself.

He’d been dying on the inside the longer he lingered alone, except for the daily distraction of food. They also supplied him with various materials over time that they’d one day regret giving him.

As much as Jabez understood why they’d imprisoned him, he couldn’t deny how cruel it had been. They hadn’t denied it either and took no action to change his situation. Then again, had he really given them the chance?

A young Jabez had been angry after so long. He’d been filling with spite, the craze of his lonely thoughts, and the depression and anguish after being confined in such a small space. When their stupid, lame gazes turned sympathetic, his vengeance only grew. His mind deepened into chaos, and his desire to listen to their voices waned.

Until other Demons were placed in cells by his side. Jabez had, in some way, reverted to a more Demon-like temperament. Come near, and he’d bite. If they weren’t close, he’d claw the air through his bars to tear at their skin for a speck of blood they continued to starve him of. Speak to him, and they’d receive obscenities in return.

That was only when he was coherent, but he often wasn’t. The starvation of nutrients he lacked turned him rabid, and the Elves could only speak with him after they muzzled him and tied him down to give him blood infusions. Otherwise, the scent of their bodies, their blood and meat, sent him into a frenzy.

He always felt pitiful afterwards.

All the while, they gifted him books, let him learn, thinking his magic was tame. That he, as a half-blooded Elf, didn’t have strong capabilities. That the rock and re-enforcements around him kept him pinned as much as his broken will.

The first thing he’d done with his magic was erase the smell of dirt, to hide and shield from it so he didn’t have to feel like a filthy creature. He suppressed the anguish and betrayal that stung at his entire being from when he’d first been placed in his prison, his cell, his glorified cage.

The scent of wet dirt somehow always brought him back to those first few years. He’d hated the smell when he first escaped and would rather step into the heat of burning ash than scent it. But as he grew older, and his mind dulled the sharpness of the memories from his youth, the smell of dirt eventually just became a mundane odour. Until it bothered him no more.

Only to drown him tenfold when he’d been buried alive by a rather devious bitch covered in a cloak of feathers, who he’d been spending decades trying to strangle.

Then, once more, he’d learned to erase his emotional attachment.

But, as he lay beneath the ground in Zylah’s burrow, night after night, with the smell of fresh roots dangling above him, it became harder to ignore.

Half asleep, he attempted to shift one way, before realising that made him face directly against an earthen wall. His stomach knotted, his chest tightened, and his lungs stung. The scent clung to him even when he rolled over towards the small central space of Zylah’s home.

The more the memories resurfaced, the colder his features became, while sweat slicked his skin. His flesh tightened over his bones, like he was trapped and confined, and his throat threatened to close.

Fuck! Jabez roared in his mind as he shot to his hands and knees. He turned his face towards the exit, to Zylah fucking blocking it like she did every day. Sunlight peeked around her, and he shuddered and shooed her to the side.

“M-move, Zylah,” he demanded, weakly turning to her. He moved into a crouched position so he could walk closer, and growled when she didn’t get out of the way. “Jabez outside!”

At the booming depth of his voice, and the command he put in it, her orbs flashed white. She chittered nervously as she slipped out of the way, and Jabez tried to hide the panicked way he dived for the exit.

He hissed the moment sunlight cascaded onto his skin, and it continued to bathe him as he crawled through the tree roots shielding her burrow entrance. The autumn sunlight was hot against his flesh, threatening to sear him if he remained in it for too long. Had he been a full-blooded Demon, he’d have been burned to a crisp within seconds.

To get out of its heat, he skulked to the side and shoved his back against the trunk of a tree. The leaves shaded him just enough, with his cloak hiding him from dappled light, and he huffed through anxious breaths to steel himself.

I thought I could do it... but I can’t. He couldn’t handle being in her burrow any longer. Even now, all I can smell is dirt. It clung to him like a second skin, just to ruin his usually calm, sane mind. Well, he wasn’t sure if he was truly sane.

He cupped the shaved side of his head and groaned at himself.

The deep, long scar there reminded him there was a distinct hole in his mind, one that blurred two worlds together. A journey he’d forgotten, and the actions of cruel people that only further twisted his heart with hate. But he could no longer decipher if they were... Elves... or humans.

Fuck. It’s been too long. I can barely remember shit. Like most adults who were thirty-seven years old, his memories of his youth were... muddled. Accompanied by the fact that it was worsened for those who lived fifteen times the lifespan of a human, and that he had obtained a deep wound not long after escaping his confines, he... he no longer truly knew if his memories were clear.

And he hated being questioned about it.

I don’t remember anyone. Not his wretched mother’s face. Not his stepfather, or his surname. He didn’t even remember if he had family beyond that, although, somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he might.

What he did remember was the conference chamber filled with snobby, blurred faces belonging to the councilmembers who put him away. He remembered why they put him in his little cage.

Shifting nearby drew his attention, and he watched as Zylah exited her burrow. She struggled to leave, as her antlers, despite being much smaller than when he first met her, often tangled in the roots.

Palming his face and lifting a knee to rest his elbow on it, he waved at her to show he hadn’t run off.

We have to leave here. He’d been hoping to hold out on his mind cracking so he could properly explain to her why they would be vacating her burrow. Even if he despised it, it was her home, and he already knew she had a deep attachment to it.

I will have to trick her. He’d take them on their daily walk, and she wouldn’t know they just wouldn’t return. However, he didn’t wish to upset the Mavka, as he was trying to gain her trust despite their lack of communication.

She’s fucking smart, though. Smarter than he ever could have given her credit for. I was right. The further the lineage from Weldir, the quicker the Mavka can gain humanity. Although her physical characteristics continued to be like every other Mavka.

In half the amount of humans it’d taken to feed Merikh, Zylah was shredding him in the learning battlefield. She learned words within the blink of an eye and was already trying to figure out how to string sentences together. Yesterday, when he’d realised just how quickly she was able to soak in information, he even taught her how to count to one hundred, and he hadn’t needed to repeat himself.

He’d thought anything like counting or math would be out of the question for weeks, or until she ate more humans. At every turn, Jabez underestimated her wit.

When I first met Merikh, he could talk, but it was like talking to an idiot. Someone had been slowly teaching him, whether that be the Witch Owl, or perhaps even Weldir somehow sharing his voice. Regardless, someone had been guiding Merikh.

But he’d eaten at least fifteen humans by that point, by my estimations, and then however many dozens after we met.

Zylah had eaten around thirty humans due to him, and maybe two before that, but she just needed to know the words. She needed knowledge, not more humanity. Once she understood something, it registered almost immediately.

I had to go hunt down humans for him, and it still took forever for him to truly become intelligent.

Already, Zylah knew how to utilise her magic to some degree, such as healing a wounded Jabez.

He chuckled behind his hand. Merikh would hate being beaten by her. He hated being beaten by anyone, just like Jabez.

Zylah slowly crawled her way closer, and he lowered his hand so he could watch her. She fidgeted nervously, scratching at herself in uncertainty, and he figured it was from how he’d left her home in a regretful panic.

She figured out how to transform within seconds. All he’d needed to do was show her she could retract her claws, and then she’d curiously wondered what else she could do.

I think she’s met another of her kind. She must have in order to know she could stand on two legs, rather than just walk on her hands. It takes others of her kind years to figure that out.

Merikh may have been the first he’d truly ever come across, but he’d been watching and observing their kind for hundreds of years. He inspected his enemy to figure out their weaknesses – of which there were very few – and their strengths, which evolved constantly and varied between each animalistic feature.

Zylah had a mean jump and was shockingly fast – but not as fast as Orpheus. The feline-skulled Mavka was the best at climbing, whereas Merikh was the strongest, like a bear. The bat-skulled Mavka would have one day learned how to fly, had he not died. Each new characteristic shaped them to be different, yet all were remarkably strong beings.

Which made killing them difficult, despite him now knowing how to end the life of a Mavka.

He took in Zylah once more, noting that she’d changed to her more monstrous form for ease of moving around her small burrow. She refused to close the distance between them, and the white colour of her orbs revealed she was wary of him.

He was only just managing to settle his panted, anxious breaths. The gentle, cool wind chilled the sweat on his forehead and neck, while also drying him.

“Sorry to tell you this, but it’s time to move on from here,” he stated, momentarily lowering his gaze to the bright sunlight sparkling against the dewy grass just beyond his feet.

She tilted her head with her orbs returning to their natural teal.

If the other Mavka don’t watch out, Zylah will surpass them all in no time.