B2 Chapter 31: Dreadwalkers of Flora

Dreadwalk: I strode in the shade of the twilight woods

The room around them was enveloped in darkness. Blaze, who was standing right beside her, disappeared. For a moment, Shiver comprehended what it was like to bear a Fear of shadows. The dread that it imposed. The threat of falling into an oblivion of shadows, to lose yourself and everything defined you.

She closed her eyes, as she could feel the rustle of leaves above her, invisible to her eyes.

Wherever he was, Shiver was sure that Rathos was smiling behind his helm. How couldn’t he be?

 Dreadwalkers are show-offs.

Shiver grinned at him, greeted only with the sight of his helm which betrayed not a single emotion.

Let’s be honest, I’d do it too.

For a moment, she stood in the heart of the Dreadwood’s Shadow Woods, where a young boy had awakened a Fear of shadow.

Before he had conquered it, in the course of his descent.

Then, a soft clapping reached her ears.

Shiver began to bleed.

[Bladethorns of the rosebeast]

Familiar vines, covered in thorns and roses erupted out of the darkness, lightly grazing her. In that moment, Shiver could have called any of the invocations she had obtained from Iltheria, the ice glades.

But when you fought Dreadwalkers, you didn’t aim to win. Especially as a Fearshaper in Trepidation.

You aimed to make a statement.

With barely a second glance, Shiver called her Phobia into reality, the long elegant blade of frost, and severed the oncoming vines with a half-moon slash that mirrored the academy guardian’s strike, all those days ago in the Archcity of Fear.

‘Ooooh… I like her.”

The room blinked back into existence, and Shiver saw Blaze safely in the hands of Rathos, far from where the thorns had erupted.

Clona, the knight with the serrated whip of thorns grinned at her as she strode into the room. It seemed like she had called an invocation from her Trepidation.

“Couldn’t help myself, thank you, Rathos. Looks like you were just as intent on testing her.”

Knight Severim, the man dressed in robes with a Phobia that bore some similarity to her own, gave her a cheery wave as he peaked out from behind the doorway to the room.

Two more of Solastra Flora’s lieutenants entered the “classroom” as Blaze stared at them in awe.

“Hmm… I wonder.”

“What would that be?”

Clona smiled as she raised a brow with curiosity at Shiver’s statement. She watched as the girl scratched at her cheek, a slight frown colouring her brow. 

“How many of you would I be able to kill before you got to me… My guess is one.”

“And which of us would that be?”

“Why you of course. I eat roses for breakfast.”

Clona’s eyebrow twitched as Severim mumbled under his breath to her.

“You deserved that one, Clona. Besides, something tells me she wasn’t joking about that last part. Don’t bully our guests or I’ll tell on you.”

Shiver turned on the newcomer with a smile.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it “bullying”. Everyone has to deal with weeds in their garden every now and then. You wouldn’t call a weed that nicks you a bully.”

Shiver shot Clona a wink and the knight’s grin only grew wider.

Severim shuddered at her words.

The young man looked to be around the same age as Shiver, with wavy brown air, wearing a casual smile. His flowing green and brown robes lightly obscured his Phobia, which he had chosen to keep visible in a band of black cloth that encircled his midriff. Vale had told her once about the Jade Isles, with their curious culture and aesthetic. After they had glimpsed Flora’s knights, she had been convinced that Severim hailed from the isles.

That leaves only one knight that I haven’t met… the one that looked like a friendly old lady. She didn’t look like a Fearshaper at all.

Unlike the other knights, he did not wear Flora’s signature Armour of the Dreadwood. In fact, of her two lieutenants, only two of them – Rathos and Clona did.

Shiver had spent many hours closely watching her noble marks in Brimstone’s upper circles. She had learned early on, that the most powerful and wealthy nobles and merchants were not those that flaunted their wealth, for they had no use for validation.

Those were the ones you avoided.

A kindly old woman was not to be underestimated. Especially in a world where elves fell to Insanity in their youth.

How strong is she?

Severim interrupted her thoughts with a sigh.

“Why can’t we ever host nice, normal guests. Why does everyone that comes to this stupid forest have to be Insane.”

“I’m nice and normal!”

Severim approached Blaze, who had called out to him, with a beaming smile.

The sense of relief that shone from his eyes made Shiver snort.

Go get him, little firefly.

“What’s your Fear?”

Severim was halted in his tracks by Blaze’s cheery question. They watched as the man groaned and placed his face in his hands.

“Why is it never, “what’s your favourite food, Severim?” or “what’s your favourite type of flower, Severim?””

Severim’s shoulders shrunk in dejection.

“I’m more than my Fear! What’s your Fear- Oh.”

Severim met Blaze’s inquisitive gaze, as she ruffled her puffy orange dress in anticipation.

“Blaze… that’s right. Wait a moment. That’s ingenious. Clona, where do I go to change my name to “Soilerim” It would save me from all the questions.”

Before the Fearshaper of roses could reply, Blaze interjected.

“You have a Fear of soil? Or soiling yourself?”

“Good one. Earth, dirt, fertiliser… earth sounds the best.”

“Cooooool.”

Shiver strode over to Blaze and ruffled her hair. The girl yelped as Shiver shot her a reproachful look.

“What have I taught you about your manners? Hmm? Do you pepper every stranger you meet with a bunch of questions? At least ask for their name first!”

Blaze looked abashed for a moment, before Shiver turned to him.

“So, Jade Isles boy.”

Knight Severim pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

He was quickly learning, that Shiver rarely followed her own advice.

“I prefer Severim… Soilerim even, though despite the allegations, I do not soil myself.”

Blaze giggled at the young man’s words.

“That Phobia of yours… it looks awfully similar to my own. Any clue as to why?”

Shiver held up her curving blade of ice. The two most significant differences between them, were the fact that her blade was longer than Severim’s own, and that it was marred by cracks.

His was an elegant, white wooden sword that curved gently, like her own. Its hilt was wrapped in a cross-crossing black cloth, similar to the dark blue that adorned the hilt of her own Phobia.

“Haven’t the slightest clue.”

“Hmm.”

“Can we talk about our favourite desserts instead?”

“Mine’s popsicles. Yours?”

“Candied unicorn horn.”

Blaze looked up in horror, as Severim’s deflection worked flawlessly, as he began to converse with Shiver about the intricacies of frozen desserts.

Blaze felt the hair on her neck rise, as a shadow covered her.

“Student Blaze, shall we resume your lesson?”

---

“You know… you’re a lot less crazy than that Insane plant lady.”

“Thanks!”

Severim beamed at her, as Clona laughed.

Shiver meant every word. It was enjoyable speaking to Severim and Clona, as Rathos taught Blaze at the other end of the room. She was tempted to close her eyes, and to enjoy the Serenity of the moment.

Mundane conversations, a life that so many elves took for granted.

Then she remembered, who she was talking to.

“So tell me… what’s it like being Dreadwalkers? Can you give me any clues to the later stages of Fear?”

Clona and Severim exchanged a look.

“Stop now if you can.”

“Yeah, listen to the Jade Isles boy.”

Shiver raised a questioning eyebrow.

“It isn’t worth it.”

Clona, to Shiver’s surprise nodded along resolutely. Of all the people she encountered, she assumed that the Fearshaper of roses would have had a thirst to descend. Severim continued, as he gripped at his temple, like he was warding off a headache just thinking about his descent.

“Anhedonia is easy. You visit the beginning of your Fear, yada yada. Just confront a little bit of Trauma, plop together your Fearcore, and you’re done.”

“Hmm… I like the description. That’s exactly how I did it.”

Shiver nodded along.

“Right? Well, in Trepidation, you-“

Clona poked him in the side. The woman had long black hair that fell to her shoulders, with her helm removed. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she also had startling red eyes, the colour of roses.

“Our Highlady wants to reveal Trepidation to you herself. She’s a bit of a drama queen.”

“What about Delirium, Dread and Serenity?”

Severim continued, as Clona gestured to him.

“Serenity is the destination, it isn’t a stage of Fear to surmount.”

Shiver stared at him.

“Truly? Surely that would make for a pretty quick descent?”

The two Dreadwalkers exchanged a smirk.

“Sure… and there were plenty of Fearshapers that did descend quickly.”

Clona interjected.

“They lost themselves to Insanity. Back in the old days, when Severim and you were wee young kids, we were called to put down Insane Fearshapers. Not pretty.”

Severim nodded.

“Anhedonia and Trepidation are more… foundational. I don’t think the Highlady would string me up on the Dawntree for telling you this, but in those realms, your Fearpath is still open, your potential, unexplored.”

“Oooh the Highlady mentioned this “Fearpath” when she spoke to us. What are your Fearpaths?”

Severim and Clona exchanged a mischievous glance.

“Not telling.”

Shiver glowered at them, knowing full well they were tormenting her.

“Plant bitches, all of you. Including you, soil boy.”

“Please… call me Jade Isles boy instead.”

Shiver relented, eventually realising they weren’t giving away their Fearpaths so easily. Perhaps, that  information in itself was valuable intel, which could allow other Fearshapers to strategise against them. Or at least, that was Shiver’s assumption.

“So… the other stages of Fear?”

Severim let out a sigh.

“Oh fine, fine. I’ll keep it short.”

Severim’s eyes gleamed with mirth.

“I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun. In Delirium, you dive into your nightmares, and by confronting them, and condensing your Alarum, you birth new invocations of your Fear.”

“B-“

“That’s all you’re getting! I’m not telling you about Dread.”

Shiver tried the same tack she had with Rathos Blackwood, fluttering her eyelashes at them.

Clona just fluttered hers right back.

“Oh fine. What about your guides? Can you introduce them to me?”

“They aren’t around at the moment.”

Shiver frowned.

“Oh? You can’t call them to you?”

Clona and Severim laughed.

“If only we could. Not anymore. You lose that ability after Delirium.”

Shiver’s eyes widened.

That seems important.

Eventually, her haze of questions came to a standstill as she puzzled over the knights’ cryptic responses. It was clear that Solastra had briefed her lieutenants to refrain from revealing too much about Fearshaping.

The Highlady was a control freak. Shiver felt like every step she was taking was just as the Highlady intended. Even her choice to descend, appeared to further her own goals.

Shiver didn’t like it at all. She was tempted to spite Highlady Solastra for the sake of it, and she would have, had she not been able to hear Icey’s screams.

As she watched as Clona and Severim left the room, citing other duties to attend to, Shiver’s eyes fell on Blaze. She watched as the girl handed a crumpled parchment to Rathos, who began to look over it.

While her conversations with Rathos, Clona and Severim had been enlightening, there was one mystery that made her reflect upon herself.

The mystery as to why Blaze had hidden herself in head chef Spicefury’s kitchen.

One could view it, as a simple means to run from responsibility – especially when you had a Dreadwalker for a tutor, despite how nurturing Rathos Blackwood actually turned out to be.

It seemed as if Marta and Pov had arranged for the girl to be given lessons, in anticipation for their eventual return to Brimstone. Continuing a life of thievery was not an option, especially when Highlady Solastra had so generously offered to arrange a tutor for the girl.

Throughout her conversation with Clona and Severim, her glances towards Blaze had revealed that the girl was awful at studying. Easily distracted, constantly shooting Shiver pleading looks to escape her predicament.

Still, the girl tried. That was the crux of it.

She watched as Rathos returned the slightly crumpled parchment, covered with his own markings and corrections. She watched as Blaze’s face fell momentarily, before scrunching it up in determination as she reviewed her errors.

It was why, all those nights ago, on that fateful night, she had stolen a package from Semille Flora. Against Shiver’s words of caution, which she had directed to the younger orphans, to refrain from thieving without supervision.

Just as she had on that day, there had been something small clutched in her hands, while Blaze was stowed away in Spicefury’s cabinets.

The very sheets of work that Rathos had set her.

Despite appearances, the girl had not hidden to avoid her responsibility. She was embarrassed to reveal what she didn’t know. And she had hidden to avoid the ridicule of scrutiny of others, as she did so. She had been reviewing the work in secret, away from eyes that would judge, or pity.

In that, Blaze was braver than Shiver.

It was a reflection of Shiver’s own failings.

Her escapades with Spicefury. The discussion with Clona, Severim and Rathos.

Distractions.

From what she was reluctant to confront.

“Blaze, I’ll meet you later.”

“NO SHIVER, DON’T LEAVE ME.”

Shiver winked at the girl.

“Study hard.”

Blaze’s cries faded into the distance.

At last, Shiver decided that she was done running from the consequences of the decision she had made, on her very first night in the Dreadwood.

To leave her family behind, and to rescue a little ice cube that had sacrificed so much for her.

Shiver went to find Pov and Marta.