Page 39 of Down from the Tower

Zarev looks… the same. He grunts and sits up, his hands shifting to his chest where the gold is sticking out. It makes him a little easier to see when he isn’t leaning over me considering my death. He prods at the spots in his chest, his brow knitting in concentration. I watch as he tilts his chin, picking at the embedded gold, my eyes widening when I see his chin.

It looks like someone struck him with a whip with tails - I know I heard the guards joking about that once, but I have no idea what it’s called. There are many small marks across his skin, some not bleeding but irritated all the same

Blinking, I reach down and grip my hair, sliding my fingers through it until I come to the stained ends. It looks like I dipped them in ink. It’s only a small portion of my hair, but it’s stained all the same.

I did that. Somehow… my hair did it. I knew it was stronger than average because of all the magic, but I’ve never tested it out. I had no idea if I threw it like that I could inflict pain on someone.

Zarev is oblivious to it, flicking at the gold in his chest before he grunts, and I watch as he drags a blade out with his opposite hand and moves to stab it into his chest. “No - careful! You’re hurt. You aren’t supposed to make it worse.”

He narrows his eyes at me, glancing from my head to my bleeding feet. I look down, suddenly self-conscious for some reason. He’s the one that freaked out when he woke up and lunged at me.

A beat passes, and I almost think he’s not going to bother speaking to me. “Magic gold hurts,” he mutters, his voice sounding dry and pained. “Leaving it in isn’t ideal either.”

Unbidden, guilt washes through me. The goal was never to get Zarev injured, especially when I hardly know the man. I try to remind myself that a moment ago he looked torn between killing me and eating me, so he’s not so innocent in this either.

But Midas was angry with me in the dining hall for killing Modred, not anyone else. His attacks were for me until Zarev intervened, and had he not distractedly tried to keep an eye on me while I panicked there’s a good chance we wouldn’t be in this mess.

I sit back on the ground, immediately wrapping my arms around my knees. It’s time to get a grip and figure out what to do next. Zarev seems okay for now, but I’ll be on my guard in case he tries something shady again. I’ll worry about what’s going on with my hair and hands later. At least those aren’t a danger to me.

Zarev heaves a sigh, giving up on the gold in his skin. I bite my lip, resisting the urge to mention Modred’s insane idea as he stands. I don’t even see the spirit at the moment, and I’m not even sure if healing is in my arsenal of available abilities. “How long did I rest?”

“I’m not sure. Uh, the moon’s moved across the sky. It’s much farther west than before.”

He grunts, which isn’t much of an answer. Slowly his hand moves up, massaging over the skin I’m sure is screaming in pain. He’s actively avoiding talking about what happened a moment ago, and I’m too tense to bring it up either. “No one came by?”

“Well…” My voice trails off and I look around, but still no Modred. I guess he went off to mope alone.

Zarev reaches for something else in his cloak, and in the next moment he’s holding a small glass vial that glows. I lean in, awed by the strange light. “It’s fairy dust. Traded for it with some lad who came over from Neverland.”

He’s mentioned that place before. Something to do with the stars. I would comment, but in the dim light I can see how tired his face looks, and how dark his chest is. I’d rather not poke the beast anymore.

It’s damp, and there’s inky blackness all across his shirt. I research out without thinking and skim my fingers through it, but he bats my hand away. He’s still bleeding, perhaps not as bad but it still isn't a good thing. “You got hurt.”

His eyes narrow. “As did you. Show me your arms.”

I tense, unsure if I really want him in my personal space again. “It’s nothing-”

“Rapunzel, I cannot handle any more excuses tonight. Let me see your arms.”

I curl my lip, ready to snap back at him for pinning me to the ground with his shadows. But some confused, possibly twisted part of me really enjoyed the show of power, and it makes my mind wonder what else he could do to me when he lets his full powers out. I keep my arms close as I consider this, Zarev narrowing his eyes in impatience. After a moment I give in, partially from pain and partially because I’m not sure what to do about it. I hold both arms out to him, waiting for him to scoff at my weakness for how superficial the wounds probably are. I mean, I barely registered them when I was pinned to the ground.

Zarev’s arm snaps out, dragging me closer, ratcheting up my tension. He’s still for a moment before brushing his fingers over the swollen flesh. I whimper, and wonder why his pain tolerance is so much greater than my own.

He hisses as his finger moves, turning my aching arm over before he glances up at me. “There’s some sort of spike in your skin.”

I blink, looking down. I’ve barely thought about it since we jumped over the wall, and definitely not when Zarev lunged. Before I can respond, that annoying voice interrupts, letting me know my first victim is back. “Griffin spines actually, if it matters to you.”

We both turn, and there’s Modred floating nearby, watching. His abnormal appearance makes my skin crawl, but Zarev looks unaffected by his presence. It only makes me feel marginally better that the Reaper is awake this time.

Zarev shakes his head, unimpressed. “Away, spirit. When I’m a little better I’ll guide you. I can’t send you on with my magic this depleted.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Modred snaps, crossing his arms. He manages to look sullen despite the fact that I can see through him. It’s not the creepy twisting head from earlier, but I swear his eyes are more hollow looking than they were hours ago when he was alive. “Fix this.”

“There’s no fixing things,” Zarev replies, setting down the little glowing container beside us in the dirt. I watch the glowing dust inside move around in lazy circles, unable to keep from wondering exactly what pixie dust is. “You are dead. You need help passing on so your spirit can rest. I won’t make you wait long. We don’t want your soul twisting into something ugly. If your soul is damned and you try to stay in the realm of the living, when you are reaped you’ll disappear forever. There is no Beyond if a Reaper has to end you.”

I turn to stare up at him. The more he talks, the more confused I feel. Being outside the walls of Tressa makes me feel like I know less and less about the rest of the world.

Modred growls, but he’s far less fearsome looking when he’s against Zarev. “The only reason I died is because this witch killed me.”

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