Requiem for an Aberrant Chapter 13: Chapter 13- Filoa

Read chapter 13 of Requiem for an Aberrant by TheJestersGambit on NovelPedia.

Cole stared up at the girl straddling him. Her eyes glistened, on the edge of tears. And for a moment, he felt like he might cry too. The broth and meat had been alive, but was now perfectly still again under the lantern glow, deceiving him. “Oh...” She blinked the tears away and slowly lifted herself off him. “I’m sorry.” Cole scooted backward on the mossy floor, eyes flicking between her and the table. “What was that? Was it really the spores?” “Yes,” she paused, halfway upright, then met his gaze squarely. “It was.” Her demeanour felt too calm for what he’d seen. She reached out a hand to him. “We need to clean that cut before you’re gone too.” Cole stayed where he was, fingers hovering over the raw line on his arm. “Wait. I have two… companions. What does that mean for them…?” The girl’s eyes softened. “It doesn’t mean they’re like gone gone.” She looked past him toward the dark cluster of cottages. “They’re just… part of the village now. And if you don’t want to be, we need to move.” She didn’t wait for him to reply, her boots silent on the moss and stone. Cole glanced back at the cottage he’d fled from. His mouth opened, then closed again. ‘ I’ll come back,’ he told himself. ‘ I’m just leaving for now. That’s all.’ He pushed himself to his feet, the cut on his arm throbbing. The pair of them moved away from the village’s warm lights and deeper into the Gorge. The valley wall beside them shifted, the solid stone parting effortlessly. A hidden staircase carved into the valley’s side revealed itself at the edge of the garden. At the top of the stairs, the girl hesitated. “There’s one more person staying with me,” she said. “My mother. She’s… not the same as she used to be. So please bear with us.” With that, she opened the door as a wave of warmth greeted Cole. The living space was modest, carved from rock. A simple table sat in the centre, surrounded by chairs that looked cobbled together from salvaged materials with a kitchen area to the side, complete with multiple windows, if the holes in the wall counted. It was likely for ventilation given the skewer planted in the middle with a campfire beneath it. The bedroom door was slightly open in front of him. Yet, there was no sign of a bathroom. He wondered if they had some other way of handling that but decided against asking. “Sit,” the girl said, gesturing toward the table. “Let’s talk.” “Is there a way to get free of them?” Cole quickly asked. “The spores. Can you destroy them? Can—” She grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly steady yet soft. “They'll be fine.” This time, he didn’t pull back. He forced himself to exhale through his teeth as she soaked a rag with antiseptic. It stung when she pressed it to his cut, the sting searing more than the wound. ‘ If it wasn’t for him ,’ Cole blamed. ‘ If I just hadn’t seen that kid— ’ “I’m sorry about earlier,” she dabbed around the raw skin. “I didn’t know if I could trust you. When I saw you’d been cut… I thought maybe Ceralune had already taken hold. Even if you didn’t eat it or touch it directly, the spores find their own ways.” Cole watched as the cloth passed over the fresh cut. “How did you know about them?” A small smile formed on her mouth. “My mother. She never trusted the village. Said it was too easy and too sweet to be real.” She pressed the cloth harder, wiping away the last flecks of blood. “She kept us away from the spores. Eventually, when I saw the others begin to change, I realised she’d been right all along.” Cole watched her face, noticing the moment of grief half-hidden behind her focus. He flexed his hand, feeling the sting under the clean bandage she wrapped tight around his forearm. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For this. And for earlier.” “No worries. I’m all done.” She put her scarce supplies away. “Do you have any more questions for me?” “...Is there a catch?” Cole asked. “What?” “Nothing, sorry,” Cole muttered. “How do you get drinkable water here? You couldn’t have survived without it?” “There’s a source