The Writer - Chapter 7

The Silent

If someone asked Forrest what his biggest regret was, he would take a moment to think before replying with something along the lines of existing. 

Forrest didn’t hate his life or his friends. He didn’t despise Beckett, despite the boy’s annoying jokes. He didn’t loathe Emmeline for her reluctance to fight Baelle. He loved Coral more than words could express. 

But boy did life suck. 

Forrest knew his friends saw him as a stolid, silent young man with master swordsman skills and an undying love for Coral. But they didn’t see past his facade - something he was grateful for. Who could be friends with a boy like him? 

Apparently the people who travelled liked him enough to keep him around. 

The Beach of Lost was just ahead, but Forrest didn’t appreciate the extra time it took to get there. He didn’t feel safe out in the open. Especially since… 

Memories pushed to surface in Forrest’s brain, but he forced them away. Months of practice had led him to learn when to forget about his past. Forrest barely remembered what all had happened during his stay in Argenti, and he was in no hurry to remember. 

About an hour later, the group was walking along the waterline on the sand. This wasn’t the Beach of Lost, according to Coral. They were about a mile south of it. 

The horses trotted along beside the sand dunes, content to nibble on the long, dry grass. 

Coral was staring forlornly at the water. Forrest knew that she was missing her Blessing immensely, but there was nothing she could do about it now. 

“It’s so pretty,” Clara whispered as she watched the waves lap at the sand. 

Forrest had to agree, though he didn’t voice this for obvious reasons. The sapphire blue of the ocean faded into the cerulean sky and upwards. The sand was warm beneath his toes (the groups’ boots were hung on the backs of the horses) and it felt like walking on clouds. Only Coral seemed to be not in awe of this. 

“Look!” Beckett exclaimed suddenly. He pointed to a worn, wooden sign engraved with the words Beach of Lost ahead. Enter at your own risk. 

“Sounds dangerous,” Newt grumbled, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. 

“Everything we do is dangerous,” Emmeline pointed out. “What else is new? C’mon, we have to find a pen in this place - how hard can that be?” 

Extremely hard, as it turned out. 

Forrest liked Emmeline and all, but her saying that it would be easy just jinxed them. The Beach of Lost was more like a Beach of Junk. 

The dunes were littered with discarded items and things that Forrest couldn’t understand. The most common items were socks, although other items appeared frequently. Forrest spotted a bag of marbles among the wreckage, an abundance of well-loved toys, and even some ratty pieces of parchment. 

Every piece of junk had to be inspected - most by Beckett who was intrigued by everything. 

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up a tarnished, silver necklace. “And this?” he grabbed a piece of parchment that was stained with rain past the point of reading. “Ooh, this is interesting!” 

There was a crack of glass being shattered and Forrest instinctively spun around. 

Beckett was blushing, a glass bottle scattered into miniscule pieces in the sand at his feet. The odd part was that a small orb of what looked like glowing, bluish energy hovered an inch above the ground. 

Then the orb dissolved with a sound like a mixture between a hiss, a sigh, and a silent scream.

“Beckett!” Emmeline chastised, rushing over to make sure Beckett didn’t destroy anything else. Forrest followed her, but not because he cared that much for the discarded items. He bent over the remains of the bottle and his fingers brushed the largest piece of glass. 

A tiny label was etched onto the glass, the words reading Peter’s Confidence in loopy letters. Forrest tapped Coral’s shoulder to get her attention and handed her the bottle. 

“Guys, look at this,” Coral whispered. The bottle was passed through the group until it came to rest in Emmeline’s trembling hands. Her fingers traced the name. “What does that mean?” 

It was Emmeline who spoke. “I wonder if perhaps, just like other things here, you can find confidence, pride, and other things you’ve lost.” 

“You think I’ll find my sanity?” Newt mumbled. 

“The only way to know is to keep searching,” Clara reminded them. “Keep your eyes peeled for anything that relates to anyone we know.” 

And with that, the group split up again. 

Part of Forrest wanted to ask Coral to walk with him. He could imagine a leisurely stroll down the beach, his hand in hers. But he knew that she would be too preoccupied with searching for something helpful. 

He inspected every piece of junk he found, though the more he searched, the more melancholy Forrest felt. 

Everything here was reminiscent of past lives. It was centuries of loss built up in one place. No matter what went on in the rest of the world, the Beach of Lost was constant - it would always be centuries of peoples’ junk. 

He found lost love letters. He found pieces of the lives of thousands of people, thrown into one big pile. 

Sweat dripped down Forrest’s forehead, stinging his eyes. His back ached from bending over. But he kept searching for a pen or anything that could help them on their mission. Once, Forrest crossed something with the name Coral. 

It was a yellowed envelope, the parchment wrinkled and a stain in the “o”. He glanced towards Coral, who was helping Clara move a wooden chair off of a large pile. 

Reading the letter inside would be invading Coral’s privacy - unless it wasn’t this Coral the letter was addressed to. Forrest’s fingers itched to peel open the envelope, but he refrained. He tucked the letter into his sword scabbard, hidden to make the decision for another time. 

Forrest continued searching. Once or twice, he found something with a familiar name. He found a bottle labelled Gwendolyn’s Youth, which reminded him of Gwen. 

Not long after, Clara called out that she’d found something. It was a tiny raddle, wooden and hand-painted with delicate roses. Clara cradled the thing to her chest, and she was defensive when Beckett teased her about it. 

“Look,” Clara showed the prince. “It’s engraved with an address. I recognize the raddle - it used to be mine when my parents, uh, left me go. I think this is where they live.” 

Clara’s cheeks turned almost as red as her hair when she talked about her parents, but Forrest dropped the issue. The girl had grown up with him in the lair of the Sprite Hunters, of course, but the two hadn’t really cooperated until Gwen sent them with Emmeline and Newt. 

Clara tucked the raddle away in her bag. 

And surprisingly, a few moments later, Beckett found something too. It was a rainbow colored shawl, though the fabric looked extremely old and weathered. 

For once, Beckett was at loss for words. He held the shawl to his chest, inhaling the scent before folding it and gently placing it in his own bag. The group continued searching, not even bothering to ask Beckett about his price. 

Forrest partly wanted to scavenge all that he could from the ruins, but he knew that would be unfair. What if someone came to the Beach of Lost and couldn’t find what they needed? He decided to leave all the royal looking swords and letters that intrigued him alone, his moral standards overpowering his curiosity. 

As they moved along the beach, something piqued Forrest’s attention. 

It was like an invisible thread pulled him closer to one of the smaller lumps. Forrest wandered closer to it. There was an undetectable energy that drew him closer and closer, it pulsed with every step and every heartbeat. 

Forrest bent over, grazing the sand with his fingertips. He found something cool and smooth. After brushing the sand away, Forrest uncovered what appeared to be a bottle. 

Soft, maroon light pulsed inside the bottle, writhing as it tried to escape. Forrest rolled the glass in his hands, flipping it over to find a name engraved in neat, block letters on the glass. He nearly dropped the bottle in surprise, but managed to keep his hold on it. 

Forrest’s Voice. 

“What did you find?” Emmeline asked, appearing at Forrest’s shoulder and startling him once again. 

Forrest shrugged, pretending to be indifferent. But his heart was racing and his thoughts were pounding in his head like a thousand axes against a singular tree. There couldn’t be that many Forrests out there, especially Forrests without voices. 

Before Forrest could put the bottle down, a tiny blur snatched it from his hands. Clara stood a few feet away, turning the bottle as she read the label. Her mouth formed a shocked circle. Forrest hung his head, ashamed to be caught. The rest of the group gathered around him, and Forrest waited for the shouting to start. 

“What is it?” Coral asked, the last person Forrest wanted to see at that moment. 

Clara handed Coral the bottle and the delicate class almost slipped from Coral’s palms. “Forrest … it’s your voice.” 

Forrest nodded, trying to force back his conflicted emotions. Behind his eyes, his Curse threatened to overpower him. Red light tinged his vision but Forrest swallowed it back, picturing Coral’s calming baby-blue eyes. Her eyes always helped him focus when his Curse tried to take over. 

“Now you can actually talk with us!” Beckett exclaimed. 

Forrest choked down his fear. Talking meant sharing, and sharing meant reliving his past. 

He expected no one to understand, but surprisingly enough, Emmeline stood up for him. She carefully removed the bottle from Coral’s hands and placed it in Forrest’s. “Guys, just remember that this is Forrest’s choice. He’s been without a voice for a while, and quite frankly, I don’t blame him if he doesn’t want it back.” 

Forrest nodded a polite thanks before tucking the bottle into his belt and turning away. He couldn’t bear to face Coral, to see her disappointed look would be torture all over again. 

As much as Forrest wanted his voice back, he also enjoyed being silent. Quiet meant not being pestered for answers or retellings of the horrors of what had gone on inside the castle, especially since he chose to remember little of it. 

The group slowly left until only Emmeline and Forrest were left awkwardly facing each other. 

Forrest jumped as Emmeline’s fingers lay on his wrist. Her touch was much different than Coral’s. Where Coral was fierce and romantic in a way, Emmeline was tender and gentle, but there was nothing about it that suggested romantic love. 

“Come.” The word was soft and yet harsh.

Forrest followed Emmeline until she brought him to the very edge of the water. While the others trekked on ahead, Emmeline and Forrest hung back, their feet covered with the soft sea foam. 

“You don’t have to take your voice back, y’know,” Emmeline said at last. 

Forrest said nothing, just as he had for the past few months. Emmeline gave a soft sigh instead. 

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while,” Emmeline continued, her dark hair floating gently in the wind, much unlike Coral’s. “When I first came out of Baelle’s castle, I considered being mute like you. What better way to avoid answers than to not speak at all.” 

Forrest perked up. Emmeline hadn’t told him about this before. 

She didn’t meet his eyes. “I wished for a while that I’d been silent, but a shockingly small amount of people actually asked me about things.” 

Forrest wasn’t exactly reassured by this, but he didn’t interrupt. 

“One day, when this is all over, we’re going to look back on this and laugh.” Her blunt words surprised Forrest, and she gave a small chuckle. “I know, it doesn’t sound like something that could happen.” 

Finally, Emmeline turned her attention back to Forrest. 

“Forrest, you are one of the bravest people that I’ve ever met. I trust you with my life, and you know that I have trust issues so don’t take that lightly.” She reached down and patted the bottle at his belt. “Which is why I know that you’ll make the right choice, whether you want to talk or not. When the time comes, the answer will come to you.” 

She gave a small smile. 

Forrest was at a loss for words - and not just because of his decision to be mute. No one - not even Coral - had something like that to him. Emmeline had suffered, in fact, just as much as he had. And people still love her, didn’t they? 

That didn’t mean Forrest was ready, though. He would talk on his own time. 

Still, as a thanks for a meaningful gesture, Forrest kneeled on the ground and began to write in the sand, using his finger to trace the letters. 

Emmeline, I think you’re the bravest person I know. 

The Reader pressed her hands to her heart. “Thanks, Forrest, it means a lot to me. Now, let’s go find the pen.” 

It wasn’t as hard after the first few hours of searching. Just as Forrest had expected, it was Emmeline who finally found the pen. He wondered if maybe it pulsed with the same energy for her as his own vial of voice had done for him. 

“Here it is!” Emmeline exclaimed, holding something up in her hand. 

The pen was black as night, the nib sharp and pointy like a knife. It gleamed with malicious intent, even if it was just a writing utensil. 

“Kind of unimpressive, isn’t it?” Newt said, wrinkling his nose at the sight of the pen. 

“The most powerful things always are,” Emmeline remarked. Forrest had to agree with Newt on this one. In Emmeline’s hands, the pen looked harmless. 

He remembered, of course, how the Reader had used it previously to stab herself in an attempt to end Baelle’s plans then and there. Suddenly, the nib seemed even sharper and the whole object glinted malevolently.

Forrest couldn’t believe that Emmeline was willing to hold it in her hands. She tucked it away, securing it. 

“So, what now?” Clara asked. “We head back and write Kalaia? Then we end Baelle’s reign?” 

“Sounds great,” Beckett decided. 

“You make it sound so simple, but yes,” Emmeline clarified. “I guess we should turn around and start riding towards the base. Titus is waiting for us.” 

She seemed reluctant to head back, and Forrest was still glad for what she had told him earlier, so he decided to pay back the favor. He tapped Coral on the shoulder and began waving his hands around in suggestion. 

“Forrest says he saw a nice place back down the beach that we could rest at before we begin our journey home,” Coral translated. 

Newt and Emmeline shared a look. “Of course,” Newt said at last. “A picnic?” 

The entire group seemed to agree with him, something Forrest was glad for. A little while later, they sat on the sand as they looked over the ocean. 

Beckett and Clara were wading around in the shallow water, the waves rolling around their knees. Emmeline and Newt were deep in conversation perched on a rock not far away. The two seemed at ease with each other.

Coral’s presence was warm and comforting beside Forrest, and she kept grazing his hand with hers. “You seem … distracted,” Coral whispered at last. 

Her eyes followed Forrest’s gaze and came to rest on Newt and Emmeline. 

Coral wisely kept her comments to herself, although Forrest felt bad for not being a better boyfriend to her. He felt like he was never enough for her. 

“What’s wrong?” Coral asked him at last. 

As always, Forrest didn’t answer. He hung his head in shame, but that only made Coral grasp his hand. Her palms were soft, her eyes worried.  She was beautiful in the dying sunlight. 

“You can tell me,” Coral whispered. Forrest knew he could, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. What would Coral think if he told her he didn’t want to talk anymore? She’d probably be extremely disappointed - and Forrest didn’t want that. 

He shook his head softly. 

“It’s about your Curse, isn’t it?” Coral guessed. Forrest didn’t know what to tell her, so he nodded. It was best to let her believe Forrest was actually worried about something as big as his Curse. Coral squeezed his hand. “Maybe we can fix it. Maybe Racke will forgive whatever you or your ancestors did to make her hate you.” 

Forrest shrugged, but he knew it was extremely unlucky. A goddess like Racke would never pay attention to a boy like him. The group had been extremely fortunate when they spoke to Ibenily previously. 

Forrest decided to play along, nodding as Coral spoke of her ideas. He wasn’t really listening, which made him feel kind of guilty. But he didn’t want to feel hopeful about removing his Curse, and he was too preoccupied with what to do about his voice predicament to focus. Sure, it probably wasn’t a good boyfriend thing to do. 

“We’re going to get your Curse taken,” Coral finished at last, snapping Forrest out of his thoughts. She sounded so determined that Forrest had to believe her. 

It was the only thing left to do.