Flash Fiction
A Faceless Wyld
Captain Arcturus knew all along they would be the death of him. The Wyld has never been a place for greens. What could they possibly do to help reclaim the world? Phantom ants trickled the back of his neck - they were being watched. Even the lads felt something was off; Cravus, his nephew, once the loudest of them all, was now shaking so much he barely held onto the WayWard Rope – if they lose that, the Wyld will become home.
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A movement on the left and one on the right. A shadow passed by the corner of his eye. Tall, long hair, and wearing patches of leather faces. Agehnwyld – a faceless. Recognition came too late. Someone screamed in the back, and Arcturus turned, glaive at the ready. The monster held a carved-out face in her hand, and its poor owner was silently convulsing at her feet, unable to breathe.
All the greens but Cravus screamed and scattered. He stood frozen, holding their only way out, and the monster lunged. Arcturus jumped between them and landed a cut, but by then, his nephew and the WayWard Rope were gone.
Signing Off
We have failed. The Orvell twins have been compromised; one’s talent was extinguished, and the other is presumed dead. In our hubris, we believed that telepathy, our birthright, would not be used by our enemies and their collaborators against us. The irony does not go unappreciated.
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I will destroy all evidence linking the project to you so you may carry on the fight.… I will pretend to join the Stori. Yes, those fools. I will let the ITI sniff my trail and die in the crossfire.
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Over the years, our relationship has become one built on wordless understanding, but seeing as we have ended, let this be my final lesson: trust no one and don’t give up.
My pride, see you on the other side.