CHAVIAS - Seeking Sebastian
WaterRose, Meadow Mountain, Grier Country
Chavias topped the trees of Warlock Grove. The grove outlying Nightway Country. Centered with the frozen pond Alazar used to favor. Dread Brew Wake.
He coasted on long white wings. Flapping like sails in the breeze. Swelling to catch the wind. His pearlescent scales glittering as pink and orange dawn fingers clawed over the horizon.
We’re close. Chavias felt the steady ripple of magic growing stronger. He sent his spirit, in dragon form, flying faster.
I’m weakening. I’m going to have to return to my body in the lair soon. Very soon.
The trees below were skeletal remains of what they’d been in the spring. Pointed sticks jutting with fingers of frost. A dense layer of white swept over everything. Making it seem like nothing of darkness could ever touch this serene valley.
How much of this was done in Sabine’s fear? Chavias’ gut clenched.
He couldn’t help dreading the harsh things Sebastian might say What he might call me, the greatest betrayer of the brotherhood.
Chavias was surprised how easy it was for him to find Bast. I can still feel the pulse of WaterRose.
And Sebastian is never far from it.
Chavias stared down at the stronghold. It was unmistakable. Breathtaking.
Completely constructed of cascading waterfalls sparkling in the first rays of new sunlight.
Chavias glanced at the rising sun. I’ve precious little time left.
But talking to him is going to be difficult. He approached WaterRose from the sky.
Sabine astride him. Red cloak falling over his shoulder and billowing in the gales his wings generated.
He carefully considered the words he’d use. Wondering what he might get out before Bast turned him away. The niggling fear Sebastian would refuse to listen, was overwhelming. What will I do then?
But some small part of him still believed Sebastian would never change. Whispering that Sebastian would never do that to him. No matter how much hate he might harbor for me…He will protect her.
Especially once he sees she’s a Watcher.
Bast’s character insisted he always do what he believed right. No matter what anyone else would think.
He’ll know helping her is the right thing to do.
But fear forced reservations to course through him.
When last we spoke, I’d been perilously close to killing Acharius. Because of Radix’s threats to find Sebastian Bodane, the King of the Castle of Water, and kill him.
The heart of the Forever Knights.
Then Radix had vowed he’d rain his fury down on the remaining Knights.
I was terrified Radix would hunt him. He always finds the one he looks for.
But so far Radix still searched for WaterRose, the Stronghold of the Forever Knights. One secret I managed to keep from him.
As Chavias’ wings carried him around to the front of WaterRose, he hovered there in shock.
Bast stood on the drawbridge staring up.
He’s expecting me. Chavias’ thick scaled throat worked with fear and emotion.
Don’t turn her away, Old Friend. He willed.
Chavias landed opposite Sebastian with a heavy whoosh. Wings still slowly beating as his feet came to rest in the meadow just before the bridge. Tipping a wing he let the red cloaked woman slide down to the ground.
Chavias sensed the energy of the castle had changed dramatically since last he was here.
He averted his eyes to the man standing across the drawbridge. “I’ve been waiting for you, Chavias.”
Chavias’ form reduced. Bones crackling like worn parchment. Body spasming and jerking which made him hiss in pain at the rare change. Even in spirit it hurts.
Sabine turned away, unable to watch him suffering.
Willing his clothes into place he looked incredulously at his former friend. “How’d you know?”
Bast shrugged. “Felt you coming. And I’ve been waiting for this day a long time.”
“I’m not here to stay.”
“Ah, you’ve need of me.” He said more than asked. “What’ve you come here for, Derenoe?”
Chavias was speechless by the use of his last name. A sign of respect.
None of them have called me that in a long while. It took him a moment to gather his composure.
“I must ask you to protect her.” Chavias forced his voice strong to hide his desperation. Tossing his head over his shoulder to the red-cloaked woman.