24. Rukh

There was a time when I used to wonder how humans lived, but as I bring myself awake from the bed that nearly crumbles under my weight, looking out the dim window, I’m beginning to understand it.

Here in this little box, I’m contained, sheltered away from the elements unlike the enclosures of a cavern or a burrow. It’s easy to pretend, as I live in this small space, that the world outside has stopped. The pitter patter of a gentle rain on the roof is beyond my concern, because the roof keeps the water out.

It feels safe even for me, a creature who has very little to fear.

“Well, there is one thing I’m afraid of, and it’s come true,” I mutter to myself.

I can still smell Annette in here. It’s in the small bits of clothing she left for me, but beyond that, her smell is permanently etched into my mind. I try to forget the smell, but it won’t leave me, no matter how many ways I try.

I step outside, open my door to the foggy forest, and have a whiff. Even from afar, I can still breathe her in.

It’s good to know that she’s safe, though she hasn’t returned to Mellara yet. I don’t understand why not.

I think back on her smile and the way her eyes lit up, bringing light to my soul, and I feel something painful. It’s something I can’t explain, but I know that I want to end the feeling however I can.

“She’s better off without me,” I mutter, walking over to the oven and opening the door.

She showed me how to use one of these in one of the houses we reaped in. I think it’s a fascinating concept, having a fire in this small wooden home to heat up food.

“I like it better raw though,” I admit quietly before questioning myself.

In my head, I try to remember life before the world of conveniences Annette showed me, and I ponder whether I was better off before knowing about them. I remember the stringy texture of raw meat and question whether it’s better burnt and seasoned.

Life before was certainly simpler.

I ran.

I killed.

And I ate.

But is there more beauty in that? Was I happier before I met Annette? My gut says yes, because I had no idea who Annette was and didn’t know I was missing anything.

My mind turns back to when I first emerged from the ground this time, and the multiple types of hunger I experienced.

There was the need to sustain my physical form, eating the wildlife that moved about the forests. My stomach grumbles, and I realize how long it’s been since I’ve eaten. My body still strains from yesterday’s combat.

There was a primal need to devour shadows, consuming the darkness from corrupted souls. I can still see all the souls around me that need purging. No matter how I help Annette, my work will seemingly never be finished.

Why was I woken up? Am I doomed to toil away at the neighboring area, purging elves forever? The corruption only seems to grow the more dark elves I kill.

And then there was something else. Something perhaps less articulable.

I felt it strongly when I was roaming alone, prowling for my next meal, but I think Annette satisfied that hunger. I don’t remember feeling it in her company, even if I still don’t know what it is.

There’s something so basic and primal about it. So why is it so difficult to understand?

I move back outside my door, looking out at the large world beyond me.

It’s a nice home, really, and I’ll enjoy staying here. But aside from Annette not being here, there’s something slightly off-putting about it that I can’t explain. Perhaps it’s the origin of the cabin, as a dwelling for a witch that evaded my notice, but I feel unsettled here.

Annette brought the word ‘creepy’ into my vocabulary, and that seems accurate for this situation. The trinkets that hang upon the walls and on the shelves are all unknowable to me. Annette claimed they weren’t dangerous to me, but they still make me nervous.

In the hope of distracting my mind from this feeling of loss, I rush through the trees and among the brambles, just like old times. I sniff the air, hoping to find my next kill. I can sense what nearby creatures are doing, where they’re located, and even what they’re feeling.

But it doesn’t have the same thrill that it used to. Every kill feels as pointless as the last.

“It’s dry and tasteless,” I say, chewing through a dripir that I tackled down near the road.

The dripir wasn’t young, nor was it weak. There was still plenty of fight left in it. I’d say it’s one of the more challenging creatures I’ve fought in the past week. It really wanted to live.

Wiping my mouth clean of its blood, I shake my head, unable to figure out why hunting has grown so dull.

In one of the old cabin closets, I find some old trapping equipment. It feels utterly cowardly as I begin rigging up some ursain traps, but I still need to eat somehow. And if the thrill of hunting isn’t there anymore, what use is there in struggling to survive?

I find myself regularly sniffing the air, picking up hints of Annette’s scent. What’s strange is that I still haven’t found her anywhere near the town, meaning she hasn’t gone back yet. I question what she could be doing that’s more important than pardoning her name. After everything we fought for, to think that she still hasn’t returned home agitates me.

I vow to put her out of my mind.

I’m not going to think about her anymore. Anytime she crosses my thoughts, I’ll drive my fist into my stomach. And if I have to remove my senses to stop from smelling her, I’ll cut them off.

No longer can I live my life as a shell of a being. It’s far too painful.

In frustration, I pick up one of Annette’s sweaters that she left behind and open the door.

Digging a pit in front of the house, I have to fight not to be reminded of when I used to cook for her.

There are plenty of trees, which means ample firewood. I click rocks and sticks together until a spark ignites, then lay the kindling in the pit.

I look down at the sweater.

As a creature beyond the understanding of mere mortals, I know that it is my duty to sever my ties. I can’t allow myself to be distracted any longer. Not when I have such a large obligation to rid the world of evil.

Annette showed me that my soul devouring helped create a better world.

I punch myself in the gut as hard as I can, then I try to forget why I punched myself.

Picking up the sweater, I close my eyes and breathe in. The scent almost makes me forget myself.

But there’s another scent in the air, too. A scent I promised I’d erase from my memory.

“If you’re not going to keep it, you can at least give it back,” Annette says.

I’m not sure if she’s more amused or angry as she watches me.

There’s a very small part of me that thinks she must be an illusion, brought about by my deepest need, and that I still need to burn the shirt.

“What are you doing here?” I growl, still holding the sweater.

Before I can react, she pries the sweater out of my hands. Am I so distracted that even Annette can best my reflexes?

“That’s a polite response.”

There’s a natural guardedness there. I remember our last interaction and how cruel I was to her. I practically shoved her away from me. Her defensiveness is justified.

But I can’t take this anymore.

I move toward her swiftly, and I embrace her tightly – tightly enough, but not so tight that a mortal such as her can’t survive my grasp.

Knowing that I need to say something, but not sure what, I grumble. “You left, and things were so much worse.”

She traces her fingers along my muscular spine, grasping me in return. “I’m sorry. You didn’t seem like you wanted me around anymore.”

She’s less cold now, her voice almost carrying an amused tone.

I pull away from her, looking her straight in her emerald eyes. I missed their shine so much. I run my hands through her fiery hair, and down to her smooth and silky shoulders. She trembles at my touch.

“Why did you come back?” I ask.

“You mean you don’t want me here?”

I’m quick to rectify this misunderstanding. “Of course, I do! It’s just that after everything we worked for –”

“You thought I’d stay back in Mellara?”

I nod.

“Eh. I thought about it, but I couldn’t go back to that cold, empty home. And Mellara didn’t seem like they wanted me that much anyway, with how quick they were to exile me.”

My expression must be one of consternation. “So you’re not even going to clear your name?” I ask. “Then what was all of this for?” I feel myself growing both confused and angry.

“You really don’t get it, do you, Rukh? It was about meeting you!”

“Me?”

She laughs. “I know you’re a little slow in matters of the heart, Rukh. So let me help you.”

She moves back to embrace me, then stares up into my eyes. And I can see myself in them. So intense is her admiration in regarding me, I briefly feel a lot less monstrous.

“It was always something that needed done. I didn’t want more innocent people to die. I wanted justice for my old friend who the witch took too soon. I don’t feel it was a waste, not at all. The world is better, in any case. Maybe someday I’ll clear my name, and we’ll be able to move freely through Mellara. But I don’t care about their approval. I care about you.”

She reaches up to my shoulder, and I lean down. Her mouth mashes against mine, and I feel the stiff and unwavering breeze slow down.

Time stops for a moment as I press her form tightly against mine.

As we part, I cough.

“So you should move in with me,” I concede. “I know you didn’t want this cabin before, but I hope I can talk you into it this time.”

She laughs joyfully before taking me by the hand and leading me back inside the cabin.