What I Saw Without You

Mathias Bryn, wrongfully imprisoned, is visited by a mysterious woman

What I Saw Without You

Footsteps echoed down the corridor—two sets—one heavy, one light. Mathias Bryn paused mid-stretch. A guard stopped at his cell, pausing briefly, then stepped aside as a woman came forward to stand looking through the bars. A veil hid her face; only her eyes were visible, deep and fathomless. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stared through the bars. Somewhere down the row, a prisoner muttered. Another rattled his tin cup against the bars, complaining. Mathias stood, matching her gaze, unruffled. Unconcerned. Seconds passed. Finally, she broke the stare, turning and leaving. Mathias shrugged. The footsteps fade once more, and silence returns.

The next day, as he was finishing his meagre lunch, he heard footsteps again. Putting the tin plate down with a clatter, he stood curious and waited. Once again, the mystery woman appeared and again stared at him through the bars. He let the silence stretch. Then: “Who are you?”

No answer. He sighed, and his voice sharpened. “What do you want?”

Still nothing. She just stared with those pale blue eyes that held hidden depths.
He exhaled slowly. “Right.” She turned, gave a final look back, and left. A while later, the guard returned. The cell door clanked open. “You’re free,” the guard said. “Your benefactor awaits you at the inn across the road.” Mathias Bryn gave the guard a sardonic grin. He already suspected who his benefactor was. He stepped out into the afternoon light. It was warm—balmy, even. The kind of heat that sucked the moisture from your skin and makes you thirsty. He paused, squinting up at the sky, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun. Then he crossed the road and entered the inn. It was quiet, shutters half-open to the breeze. A few locals nursed drinks in the shade. The air smelled of sweat and stale ale. She was there- he knew it would be her, the silent woman, who came to visit him. Ignoring her, he went to the bar, bought a drink, then crossed the room and sat opposite her. He stared at her questioningly while sipping his drink. She removed her veil, revealing pale features and jet-black shoulder-length hair. She seemed thin, fragile, even as he saw her fully for the first time. There was a melancholy about her that would typically invite sympathy from most, but he was unmoved, more curious than anything else. He waited.

“My name is Saelri Lee,” she said, her voice sounding melodic to his ears.”

“You can talk then. I suppose I owe you, and you want something in return, so tell me?”

Saelri frowned, then rested a hand on the table. “Take my hand.” He grinned bemusedly, then shrugged and took her hand. Immediately, his surroundings faded- He saw himself and Saelri lying together in what seemed happier times. Then the vision switched, and he saw his lifeless body among many more. Nor was Saelri to be found among the dead. A world engulfed in chaos, fire, and death. Thousands of orcs, goblins, ogres and other nameless creatures swarmed everywhere. Kingdoms burned and empires crumbled. At last, he came to himself and pulled his hand away.

“You’re not going to tell me. You are a seer, and all this is going to happen if… what? I’m not with you. I have been around and met more than my share of sorcerers and so-called seers spouting nonsense.”

Saelri shook her head. “No, I’m no seer, nor do I know why I get these visions. I am, however, an experienced sorceress, and for someone like me, these visions.” She paused, her gaze faraway, “They disturb and terrify me. I can’t say whether they will come to pass. I do know one thing for sure, though.

“Oh, and that is?”

“You are in all of my visions.”

Mathias shrugged, “I’m flattered. You said I am in all your visions.”

Saelri nodded. “You were. But not always beside me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So I wandered off, and the world ends?”

Her voice dropped. “No. You die before the end. When you’re not with me.”

He took a slow sip of his drink. “We all die eventually.”

She leaned forward, a slight tremor in her voice. “You were the last man standing at the battle of Black Hollow. Fifty entered. Only one survived.”

Mathias froze, just for a breath. Then set the tankard down. “That is a memory I’d sooner not recall,” he said, his voice turning rough.

“I saw it,” she replied. “A massacre. Needlessly so… by your superior's incompetence. You dragged yourself through mud by sheer willpower, mortally wounded but alive. And yet no one listened to you.”

He exhaled slowly. Saelri noted that it was the first time Mathias had shown any sign of emotion. “You freed me. That’s a debt.”

“That’s not why I want you with me.”

“I know,” he said. “But it’s why I will go with you. I always pay my debts.”

Saelri studied him for a moment. Then her nose twitched. “You should bathe,” she said. “There’s a room upstairs—water’s hot.

He raised an eyebrow. “Another vision?”

“No,” she replied, dryly. “Just my nose.”

He glanced down at his shirt, damp and stained from days in the cell. “I did wash myself. Once. Three days ago,” he said sardonically.

“Go,” she said, almost scolding. And shave, too. I dislike stubble. “I’ll still be here when you have bathed.”

He stood, stretching with a wince. “If you vanish again, I’ll assume it was the smell.”

Sometime later, Mathias returned to the room, his skin clean. His shirt hung loose, his expression lighter. His fair hair was damp around his shoulders. He looked different now. At ease, tall, brooding. Handsome. His green eyes echoed past pain. She was seated by the window, steam rising from the teacup in her hand. The room was quiet, the sunlight fading, casting long shadows across the floor. Saelri’s hand paused near her lips. She lowered the cup slowly, eyes flicking over him once.

Now,” she said, voice dry. “You look the part.”

Mathias blinked. “What part?”

She sipped her tea. “The one they’d never suspect,” she said with that air of mystery he began to get used to.

“You never explained how you got me out,” he said.

Saelri didn’t look up from the window. “I told them the truth.”

Mathias raised a brow. “Which is?”

“That you were falsely accused. That the charges were fabricated. That the entire tribunal was a farce.”

He blinked. “And they believed you?”

She turned, a glint in her eye. “No. But I also told them I’d expose Lord Verren’s private dealings with the Eastern ports. That got their attention.”

Mathias frowned. “You threatened a noble?”

“I implied I might. Loudly. In a room full of his rivals.”

He stared. “You were bluffing, right?”

Saelri smiled. “Of course. I’m a sorceress. They wouldn’t dare call it — not when truth has teeth.”

Mathias let out a breath, half laugh, half disbelief. “You sure have guts. I’ll give you that.”

She shrugged. “Of course, I may look frail, but I’m made of sterner stuff.”