However, he didn’t look like a Demon either.
He still appeared unholy and evil, especially with his floating, glowing, blue orbs that were more unsettling than they were pretty. But he truly appeared different to her vague memory of the Demons she’d seen in the flesh.
That did nothing to appease her wariness of him, of her uncertainty standing here in this wedding dress, of what was to come. But I can flee him. Once she was outside the boarders of this claustrophobic village, Reia could run.
She would pretend to play along, would pretend all the way to the Veil if she had to, but she would find a way to obtain her freedom. She would travel until she found a village that didn’t know who she was, didn’t know her as a harbinger of bad omens, and she would finally live.
Unfortunately, when he stepped forward, his trouser clad leg moving through the opening of his cloak, it brought to light just how large he was. The vast space between them allowed her to think he was smaller, but as he was granted access into the clearing and came through the gate, she saw just how much he towered over everyone.
The people watching scuttered back, shuffling their feet loudly as gasps rang out.
“Duskwalker,” Gilford greeted brightly with a deep-seated tone of respect, skilfully hiding any fear or disgust he must have held. He placed one arm over his stomach while the other rose into the air behind him as he bowed. “It is an honour to greet you.”
The Duskwalker gave no response as he walked closer and closer, getting taller and taller, until he paused just in front of the chief. His wolven companions slowly walked in behind him, silent, as if they weren’t there, despite their muzzles being pulled back as if they were ferociously growling.
Reia’s eyes moved from the bottom of his closed black cloak, all the way to his skull face, and then finally settled on the Impala antelope horns protruding through his hood.
The area became so silent she could hear the wind, and she thought she could almost hear the stammering hearts of all the people who were here to bear witness.
The anxious smacking of the chief’s lips was loud after he swallowed what must have been an uncertain lump in his throat. The only reason they knew the Duskwalker was staring at him – since his glowing orbs didn’t show where he was truly looking – was because his skull head was pointed down in his direction.
Gilford stood at least a foot shorter than him and had to crane his neck to meet his stare head on when he unfurled himself from his bow.
“Ah, I am sure you are wary of who I am. Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gilford Borilette. I am the new chief since Clement died twelve summers ago, and I know you visited one of the other villages last time you emerged from the Veil.”
“You humans die so quickly,” the Duskwalker said, his voice deep and dark, and surprisingly, quite smooth. That wasn’t why most, including Reia, gasped. It was because he spoke without opening the jaws of his skull. “I grow tired of learning all your names. You will most likely be dead the next time I come here.”
Gilford visibly flinched at the coldness of the Duskwalker’s words.
“Well—”
“I have little care nor time. It is a long way home. Where is my offering so that I may leave?”
His head turned up, easily seeing over the short man to stare directly at Reia in her obvious white cloak and wedding dress. Her back instinctually stiffened under his scrutiny, yet she lifted her chin confidently.
“Ah, yes. The willing sacrifice as payment for a protection ward against the Demons.” Gilford stepped out of the way, waving his hand to the side so that Reia could be presented fully. “Pure and knowing of her future.”
The hounds remained where they were as the Duskwalker stepped forward to approach her. His footsteps crunched in the dirt but were light despite his heavy-looking frame. He dipped his bony skull down to her just under a metre away, and she slowly lifted her chin to glare up at him through her lashes.
Reia expected the smell of blood or the rot of decay to waft from him like some Demons produced. She expected him to smell of death.
Surprisingly, he smelled of smoking mahogany wood and… pine.
That did little to ease her, although it was welcome in comparison. Her lips tightened as he looked down, casting a large, looming shadow over her.
It gave her a sense of foreboding – like she may never see the light again past this day.
Once more, a hush fell over the area. The air felt stagnant like the world was holding its breath as much as the humans who were desperate for her to be taken away.