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황홀한 찰나 완벽한 환상

현실을 가린 채 

달라진 눈에 보이는 결말

마주쳐 버린 희망 속의 Lie

Odd eye – Dreamcatcher

The Solstice arrives in the midst of a blizzard. Tear gazes out over the white landscape. The Order hasn't made its move yet. What hope do I have? They usually select Ravens with mental abilities. What use could they have for someone like me, when their job is to hide the Flowers and us from the world? Maybe they're interested in my skillset, tired of dealing with my guardians. Do they even know I broke into their archive? I don't have time to think about these distractions. I need to monitor the stray before the festival begins.

He reaches the woods around the Wolves' territory. Two shadows approach along the path. Tear halts on one of the branches, careful not to dislodge a single flake of snow. They're downwind; they shouldn't be able to smell me. The pair gets closer, their features becoming clearer. He recognizes them.

"Dim, so you think she's faking it? But it's impossible to fool someone like you over something like this."

"It would be, if your sister didn't have the anomaly."

"What difference does that make? A warrior can't hide contamination."

"I know, but there's something off in her vibration. I can't tell what's natural for her and what isn't."

"I don't follow."

"Having colors is normal for Eris, because of her anomaly. Sometimes her colors are terrifying. Her despair, her loneliness, they burn the soul. I've asked everyone to go see her, hoping it wasn't connected to the contamination, but I just can't figure it out."

"Have you told the Elders?"

"No, I want to see her out of there myself." Dimitri sighs. "When Siobhan was like this, a few weeks of pure ambrosia was enough to bring her back to normal. With Eris, it's like any amount of ambrosia only makes her waste away faster and darkens her colors. It's hard to even be in the same space with her at those times."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know how to explain it. It's like the air in the room is replaced with terror and despair. And her screams..." Dimitri's face pales as he trails off.

Tear's mind stirs with the memory of Eris' screams, his skin crawling at the suffocating sensation of fear. The frail body trembling with convulsions, her spine arched until it creaked, her eyes wide with panic, her voice pleading for help, begging the giant to "make it stop." The Wolves are beasts.

Lyrion halts, his gaze fixing on his friend. The pain in Dimitri's eyes is enough to convince him of his sincerity.

"Maybe it's a side effect from the Flower she faced," Lyrion's voice breaks the silence.

"Could be. There were no fiáin with her. She must have absorbed the miasma on her own, like with the Fisher."

"There weren't any fiáin, but there was a custos."

"At that point, it would've been better if she'd been alone. You know those vultures. At the very least, he probably watched her while keeping his distance from the battle."

"And what if he did it on purpose? Nilde told me that's the same bastard who struck Eris in the spring," Lyrion's fingers tighten around the materials for the decorations. "The scar on her face must be his doing, your brother said so."

"Zahir's not very clear-headed when it comes to that guy."

"Can you blame him?"

"Yeah. Watching her return in that state, in the arms of a Raven—nobody liked that," Dimitri offers a bitter smile.

"If I'd known what he'd done to her, I wouldn't have thanked him. I'd have punched him!"

"Don't get heated, Lyrion. For all we know, your sister and that vulture practically won the war on their own."

"I should never have called the retreat. I should've fought alongside my sister. Eris was my responsibility."

"You did your duty, and she did hers."

"That's not how it is. It's my fault she's like this. I've spent my whole life trying to keep her safe, trying to convince her not to become an alpha, to live protected in the valley, even though I knew by doing that, I was just pushing her harder to follow in my footsteps. One battle broke her. And what did I do? I acted like everyone else, I ignored her when she needed me most."

"Remember what your father said the night of the Harvest? Regret and remorse aren't for us. Our lives are too short to waste on things like that," Dimitri pats his friend on the shoulder. "And you're killing my mood. Your sister's free, and I plan to enjoy the damn festival!"

Tear's interest flickers out, and he watches the sky, waiting for the two Wolves to move far enough away. He leans back into the void, performing a quick somersault before continuing to dart from branch to branch to reach the shed. He steps carefully into the footprints left by the Wolves, then slips inside as he always does.

Eris is lying on the ground, curled up in the straw, asleep. But it's not a peaceful sleep—nothing has been peaceful for her since she was locked away. The bruises beneath the chain stand out against her amber-colored skin. I thought they'd let her go. Did the giant lie? Tear lies down on one of the rafters, swinging a foot in the air. Maybe Anise is right when she says that misfortune has been haunting us since the moment we met her. A misfortune that strikes both us and her. What would have happened if she hadn't met us, but another pair of Ravens that night, the night the barrier was restored? What if she hadn't believed Anise's lie and had revealed Insidia's secret to her Elders? Would they have seen her as a problem to be erased?

He looks down at the sleeping girl. The loose shirt barely covers her, her hands hidden in the sleeves, her legs bare up to her knees. She's crying and twitching, her lips murmuring unintelligible words. There's nothing left of the wild girl who smiled by the river. If I hadn't lost my nerve during the war, things wouldn't have spiraled. I should have done what I did with Cornelia. The day she followed me into the new city —that would've been the perfect opportunity. I could've finally gotten my revenge for all those wasted hours, trailing behind her, listening to every word of those mutts, fearing I'd find a single clue leading back to Insidia. A single blow would have sufficed. What better place to hide a body than a battlefield? Problems are solved by cutting them at the root.

"Eris, are you awake?" A woman enters the shed.

"Mom?" Eris rubs her eyes, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to take you to the festival. Didn't Dimitri tell you?"

"I thought I was still... tainted."

"That's not what he told us."

The woman steps closer to the girl, unlocking the chain. The croí pulls back, startled.

"It's okay. You're not contaminated anymore. I can touch you."

Is that why everyone kept their distance? I've touched her hundreds of times over the months, and nothing happened. Once the first dose of ambrosia is administered, miasmic contamination isn't contagious anymore. The key slides into the lock, and the ankle is free. Eris runs her fingers over the bruised mark. Now that I think about it, it's strange. During the war, she healed instantly from a much worse injury than this. Why is it different now?

"And I can eat with you?"

"Of course, puppy."

"Tomorrow too?"

"Yes."

"And the day after?"

"So many questions! This isn't the time to think about that," the woman urges her toward the door. "Come on, come on!"

"Mom, wait," the girl's eyes lift just enough to meet Tear's gaze, but not enough to raise suspicion from her mother. "I'll be at the festival tonight."

"That's why I came to get you, pup. You sure you're feeling okay?"

"Never been better." Eris smiles toward the Raven before letting herself be led outside.

Finally, this mission is over. The stray is free, and I have to do my best to get out of the Gleann. Tear stretches and slides down from the rafter. This place sure won't be missed. Outside, the bare footprints of the croí in the snow catch his attention. Pity about the book, I was enjoying it, and we were close to the ending.

The Nest is already buzzing with excitement for the start of the festival when Tear descends the stairs toward the Library, adjusting the dark feathers on the collar of his cloak. Strange that this year they didn't set up straw mats for the Shore Flock. We must be really few if the guest wing is enough. An unusual pair catches the boy's attention. What's my guardian doing with Anice? He watches them exchange words with unusual intimacy, then the woman gently strokes the girl's hair in a maternal gesture. Tear hangs back until Lady Celeste disappears between the bookshelves of the Library.

"Anice."

"Oh, Tear," the girl smiles, "didn't hear you come in."

"What were you talking about with my guardian?"

"She asked me to help with some tasks, nothing major, just some archive work."

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to. Lady Celeste isn't the head of your Column."

Never trust my guardian, even when she brings gifts.

"I don't mind. It helps keep my mind off everything else."

"Suit yourself," he places a hand on her head, "I know you'll do your best."

The pair joins the rest of the Flock. Anice adjusts her cloak with an elegant gesture, then slips a black feather with blue reflections between her lips and begins to braid a lock of her hair. Tear's gray-blue eyes follow her companion's fingers as they weave the braid and the feather together.

"How do I look?"

"Perfect," the boy lightly touches the feather with his fingertip, "it suits you."

"It was my m... well, my guardian's," she lowers her gaze for a moment. "From today, we'll be the only ones who remember her."

Dalia hasn't left Insidia, it's official.

"I don't think so. She was a respected Raven, the best guardian in the Flock."

"Yeah, but no one's left to remember what she was like when she smiled, what color her eyes were, or the sound of her voice when she'd sing us lullabies before bed," Anice suppresses a tearless sob. "Now I only have you, Tear."

"It's not true. You have the whole Flock, you're a Stele of the Gleann."

"If I died, who would remember me?"

"I won't let anything happen to you," the custos offers his arm. "As long as I'm alive, no one will hurt you."

The doors open, and the procession begins. The frozen snow doesn't creak under the light, silent steps of the Flock. Torches leave trails in the night, and the first chants break the silence. The Wolves' voices reach them as they approach the Sycamore. The procession halts at the roots, and the warriors fan out, forming an arch beneath the decorated trunk. 

Anice releases the boy's arm to join her place in the half-circle. Tear steps back to the last row of his Column. The thought of feeling one of those idiots' hateful gaze on my back irritates me. In battle, it wasn't like this. Every time I handled complex missions alone, I could feel the admiration in the eyes of the Flock. It lasted less than a dream. I wonder if I'm the only one who prefers war to peace.

Tear watches the two Raven priests climb the Sycamore's roots. On the other side, another pair appears and salutes. The invocations begin with the Wolves, the half-circle bows one fur-colored patch at a time; then it's the Ravens' turn. The boy kneels but, as always, his eyes remain fixed on the tree and the ceremony. In the crowd, one face seems to catch his attention: Eris smiles at Nilde, kneeling beside her. How can she smile after everything they've done to her? Is she pretending? I thought the Wolves were honest. No, not all the Wolves, just the stray. 

The croí turns toward him, as if she's heard the call of his gaze. The smile, which had seemed sincere at first, reveals itself to be a mere formality. It's like going back six months, to the Harvest Festival. What a terrifying nose that White woman had!

"What are you doing to your children, vultures? Where are all your pups?"

Those words were enough to freeze the air on the Flock's side. What would have happened if the stray hadn't intervened? Would the Wolves have figured out the truth? Eris's screams echo in the custos's memory, her body crushed to the ground and that outstretched hand toward him. He clenches his fists. If Anice hadn't stopped me, what would've happened? The Flock can't interfere in the Pack's business, and vice versa. It wasn't my concern, and it's not now. She's free, and soon I will be too, finally.

The pairs file in an orderly fashion to pour their blood into the Sycamore, and at the end, the priests of the Wolves and Ravens signal the start of the real celebration. The custos steps away from the crowd, approaches the glowing trunk of the Sycamore, and climbs until the light of the torches can no longer reach him. 

The memory of last year's Solstice crosses his mind. I'm in the same place as then. He rises, silently moves between the highest branches, and chooses one at the boundary between the two sides: to the left, the Ravens; to the right, the Wolves.

Tear watches the celebration from above. I can't wait for it to end. He shifts his gaze to the right; the Pack is moving to the increasing rhythm of the drums, but Eris isn't among them. His eyes search for her and find her sitting on a root, several meters below him. She's among the musicians, her hands drumming a tambourine in time with the beat. The movements are precise, as if following a ritual, yet her body doesn't seem to truly participate in the celebration, her mind lost miles away from here. The crescendo reaches its peak and explodes in a cry. 

The croí hands the instrument to another Wolf without leaving her spot. Her mismatched eyes rise toward the branches on the Raven side, searching in the dark. The custos steps out of the shadows and settles into full light, directly above her. Their gazes meet halfway. The music begins again.

"Beautiful party, don't you think?" Eris's lips move slowly, syllabling the question in silence.

"You're asking the wrong Raven," Tear replies using the same technique.

"It's a shame."

"What is?"

"Not celebrating together, Wolves and Ravens."

"After all the effort we put into hating each other?"

"You're right." The croí covers her mouth with her palm, stifling a laugh.

One of the dancers breaks away from the group, drawing Tear's attention. Eris follows the custos's gaze, who takes a step back into the shadows of the Sycamore. Zahir approaches the girl, embraces her, and kisses the tip of her nose. The croí's radiant smile warms the night in that corner of the celebration, and the Wolves surrounding her seem to hold their breath, captivated by the scene. Eris leaves her spot to follow her companion, her final glance directed at Tear.

̣⭒˙✵• ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☽✮☾⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ •✵˙⭒ ̣