Malachai had been tracking her for weeks.
The spies he had entrusted with her safety had been useless, nothing but weak-willed cowards who had let her slip through their fingers as Orlais fell to ruin. By the time word reached him, Ophelia had already vanished into the chaos, swallowed by the same darkness that had consumed so many others. A failure like that could not go unanswered—his anger had been swift and merciless. A few of those responsible still rotted in the dungeons, their backs striped raw from the flogging he had ordered, a warning to any who thought incompetence would be tolerated.
Yet punishment did not bring her back.
It was Malik who had done that. The shapeshifter had taken to the hunt without hesitation, slipping into the wilderness like a shadow, his ravens scouring the land for signs of her. Malachai had followed close behind, knowing it was only a matter of time before the trail led them to her. And now—finally—he had her in his sights.
She looked like a ghost of herself. Hollow-eyed, thin, the weight of loss pressing down on her shoulders. He should have felt relief, knowing she was alive. Instead, all he felt was cold. When they made it to the nearest village he would see she was cared for, bathed, clothed in better garments than the rags she now wore.
The gryphon was the first to react, stepping in front of her with a deep, rumbling growl, its massive wings shifting slightly, ready to strike. Malachai kept his movements slow as he reined in his horse, his sharp eyes flicking between the beast and the woman behind it. Questions came to mind, but for the moment his concern for her wellbeing outweighed the curious sight.
Dismounting, he landed with deliberate ease, gloved hands flexing at his sides. Ophelia was trembling, yet defiant, the book discarded at her feet, the raven perched too close for comfort. Malik had done his work well, but now the task fell to him.
@Ophelia Jolfy
The spies he had entrusted with her safety had been useless, nothing but weak-willed cowards who had let her slip through their fingers as Orlais fell to ruin. By the time word reached him, Ophelia had already vanished into the chaos, swallowed by the same darkness that had consumed so many others. A failure like that could not go unanswered—his anger had been swift and merciless. A few of those responsible still rotted in the dungeons, their backs striped raw from the flogging he had ordered, a warning to any who thought incompetence would be tolerated.
Yet punishment did not bring her back.
It was Malik who had done that. The shapeshifter had taken to the hunt without hesitation, slipping into the wilderness like a shadow, his ravens scouring the land for signs of her. Malachai had followed close behind, knowing it was only a matter of time before the trail led them to her. And now—finally—he had her in his sights.
She looked like a ghost of herself. Hollow-eyed, thin, the weight of loss pressing down on her shoulders. He should have felt relief, knowing she was alive. Instead, all he felt was cold. When they made it to the nearest village he would see she was cared for, bathed, clothed in better garments than the rags she now wore.
The gryphon was the first to react, stepping in front of her with a deep, rumbling growl, its massive wings shifting slightly, ready to strike. Malachai kept his movements slow as he reined in his horse, his sharp eyes flicking between the beast and the woman behind it. Questions came to mind, but for the moment his concern for her wellbeing outweighed the curious sight.
Easy now. Stand down,he murmured, though whether he meant it for himself, the gryphon, or the fury that still burned beneath his skin, even he wasn’t certain.
Dismounting, he landed with deliberate ease, gloved hands flexing at his sides. Ophelia was trembling, yet defiant, the book discarded at her feet, the raven perched too close for comfort. Malik had done his work well, but now the task fell to him.
Enough running, Little Dove,Malachai said, his voice quieter than the rage still curling in his gut. Reaching to his mask he slipped it down to his chin.
You're coming with me. I’m here now.His approach was steady, eyes drifting between the beast and her small frame ready to back away if the gryphon decided he was foe and prey, not her waiting sanctuary.
I’m here. I found you.
@Ophelia Jolfy
02-01-2025, 11:53 AM
