Chapter Twenty-Nine

The muffled thud of the front door closing stirred me from my sleep. I lifted my head from the crook of Eurok’s shoulder, careful not to wake him, and made my way to the window. The first cool light of morning sighed in through the curtains, carrying a slight chill. Winter had been unusually mild, a small blessing given Mira’s frequent visits to the forest. I caught the last glimpse of her slipping off, her foraging pack swaying with her stride.

After returning to Raven Ridge, she kept herself busy in every way imaginable, determined to keep thoughts of Balis and the guilt of sending him away at bay. Mornings and early evenings, she foraged herbs and ingredients for Agatha’s shop. During the day, she filled her time with endless training, even when Eurok couldn’t be here to instruct her. When she wasn’t honing her skills with the dual blades she now wielded, she combed through the library with me, searching for clues to the many questions still plaguing us.

I let the curtain drop, then retrieved the king’s journal resting on my bedside table. Thus far, it proved useless. With no indication as to why it was written in the sacred heliac script, it contained nothing beyond the mundane details of the young king’s life. Aside from his growing frustration with Annorah’s lack of control over her powers, there’d been little mention of her. In fact, most often he spoke of his admiration for a woman whose name he had yet to reveal.

I peeled back the worn cover. The dried purple aster Eurok had picked for me last summer marked my place, and I flipped through the brittle pages.

Blank.

He’d written nothing on this day all those years ago. I dropped it closed, forgetting in my irritation that Eurok was asleep. He stirred at the low thud.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice heavy with sleepy grit.

“Morning, I’m sorry to wake you.”

He pulled back the covers from my side of the bed, a silent beckon to join him again. I curled myself into him, savoring his warmth.

“By the mountain, Sidelle.”

I giggled as my chilled fingers trailed over his chest. He tucked me in close and pressed a kiss to my forehead. This was a rare, quiet morning—the kind I craved during the long weeks that took him away from Raven Ridge. A melancholy realization settled in my bones, souring the moment. This was our last chance of peace before another prolonged absence. I pushed the ache aside and tried to remain present, unwilling to let the future disappointment spoil things.

After a while of soaking in the morning from the comfort of Eurok’s arms, I made my way downstairs and prepared my brew. A timid pecking clicked against the window, drawing my attention. A raven carting a familiar brown envelope perched on the sill. I pulled open the latch to let the large onyx bird inside and offered a chicken egg so he could regain his strength. He dropped the letter, retrieved the egg from my hand, and promptly turned and exited.

I turned the envelope over, ignoring the knot in my gut, and added it to the tipping stack on the counter.

“Another one?” Mira asked.

I hadn’t heard her come in. She stared at the pile, lips pressed in a sullen grimace, mucky boots, and a tight grip around the strap of her bag.

“It is.”

My palms encircled my cup, drawing in its heat to guard against the bite in her eyes. For three long months, Balis sent weekly letters. She refused every single one. I could never bring myself to toss them, hoping that one day the barrier she secured around the emotions weighing her down would soften and she’d read them.

She said nothing. Instead, she spun on a heel and stomped up the stairs. The rush of running water echoed down moments later.

I loosed a throaty sigh, set my cup aside and braced my elbows on the countertop, dropping my head in my hands. Vylandria had become her home. She said as much on multiple occasions, and for that I was grateful. We grew close over these last few months, but whenever Balis was mentioned, I sensed the weight of her despair. It was heavy, and what’s worse, I didn’t know how to ease her pain.

Mira was resolute. She couldn’t be pushed or influenced to go against her wishes. So when Eurok revealed Balis recently threatened to show up and demand to speak with her, I forbade it. If distance was what she desired, the least I could do was ensure it was respected. For now, at least.

“Day’s just started, love.”

Eurok’s broad hand stroked comforting circles on my back, and I lifted my head to bask in that charming smile.

He cast a knowing look upstairs. “I take it another letter came?”

I gave a defeated nod.

He shrugged. “She’ll have to talk to him, eventually.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“She’ll come around. Balis is patient. He’ll make sure she knows he’s not going anywhere.”

I eyed the pile of letters with dejection. “I think that might be the problem.”

“You plan on working with her today?”

“I prefer our time be spent in the library. I need to find a means for her mana to bloom consistently, instead of these random spurts she gets.”

“Too bad you can’t just give her some.”

My eyes shot his way. “What?”

“Your mana—it would be nice if you could hand it over, so she could practice.”

I gasped a sharp inhale, a spark like flint to kindling flaring in my mind.

“What is it?” he asked.

“How do you suppose the druids used the mana they stole from the females?”

His brows lifted in understanding. “I don’t know. To my knowledge, it was never investigated. The staves were destroyed, and the mana returned to the earth.”

“They must have found a way, though, right? Why else would they store it in the staves?”

His brow furrowed as I hurried into the den. He followed, tight on my heels.

“What if–” I snatched the light-weight wooden staff from its place beside the bookshelf, determination settling into every fiber of my being. “What if we can not only extract mana from one core, but also transfer it to another wielder?”

He remained quiet, letting me sort out my thoughts.

I paced a tight circle. Why hadn’t this crossed my mind earlier? I’d been so focused on trying to force Mira into her blooming that I never considered other options. This could be it. I lifted hopeful eyes and leapt at him. My arms encircled his neck as I pressed my lips to his.

He responded with an intrigued grin. “You’re positive about this?”

“This is it,” I said, elation fueling my racing heart. “This is it, Eurok. I can feel it. This is the answer we’ve been waiting for.”

Sidelle and I stood on the edge of a massive lake north of Raven Ridge.

My nose wrinkled as I peered below. “Are you sure there’s even a shipwreck down there?”

“I’m positive. It was stranded here when the river changed course hundreds of years ago. Now focus.”

“How did it sink?”

“Do you want a history lesson, or do you want to wield?”

I sighed a temperamental huff and let my eyes flutter shut.

“Good. Imagine your power reaching beneath the water’s surface. Sense your target, visualize it. Wielding is all–”

“All about intention, I know.”

I pictured her displeased, pursed lips without needing to look. We trained nearly every day for the last two seasons, and I heard those words a thousand times.

Nine months passed since I sent Balis away, since I melted under his mischievous grin, embraced the cool touch of his energy sweep against mine.

“This feels like a lot for half a core of mana. Are you sure we shouldn’t have refilled today?”

I still lacked the ability to call on my own mana from the earth. But Sidelle had found a way to ration Annorah’s power from her staff for me to draw into myself. At first, it felt strange, heavy. But as the weeks passed, adding little by little, I found relaxation in its fullness, even grew accustomed to its personality.

The witch warned me it would develop an animalistic identity, and she wasn’t wrong. As I grew acquainted with its behavior, it formed a distinct shape in my awareness, something similar to a large cat. Maybe it was just my subconscious missing Balis, but I found comfort in it nonetheless. I even let it take shape and walk beside me or lay at my feet by the fire on calm evenings.

“No. Half is plenty for this. Besides, I need your core empty today.”

“Empty? Why?”

Cold worry accompanied my disapproving tone. Having an empty core bothered me now. It caused a gnawing hunger-like pain in my chest, leaving me vulnerable despite the physical strength and skill I gained from training with Eurok.

“Because Eurok returns tonight to accompany me west to Cedar Shield for the games. We’d like for you to join us.”

“The Aupex Proving Games?” My focus snapped away from searching the waters for this elusive ship. I squared myself on the witch, wary of where this was headed.

“Yes.” Her shoulders stiffened, as if bracing herself. “Balis is competing and–”

“No,” I interrupted. “I’m not going.”

“Mira–”

“No.”

Sidelle’s mouth snapped shut with a subtle click, her brows furrowing as if she were mentally crafting how best to re-approach the subject. “He cares about you, Mira. He asks Eurok about you every time he sees him. Please. Come with us. Just talk to the boy.”

“You and Eurok insisted on keeping emotions out of this. Now, you’re asking me to consider those emotions before he—what? Dies in a meaningless competition?”

When Balis mentioned his chance to become commander might be at risk due to his assignment to find me, I later found out he was referring to the Aupex Proving Games. I also learned the games were a display of the most fearless and ferocious battle-ready warriors the druid army had to offer. It was an all-out, ruthless arena battle against their own comrades, many of whom died at the hands of brothers they trained beside for decades.

Druids believed that by pitting their strongest warriors against one another, their true leaders, their commanders, would be revealed. Those who didn’t survive these trials would ascend to take their place within Erezos’ ranks.

The prospect made me sick.

“Can we just finish up here and go home?” I asked.

Sidelle crossed her arms in defiance, unwilling to move on. “Fine, how about a bet?” I mimicked her stance. “You bring that shipwreck to the surface, and I’ll drop the subject. You can stay. But fail, and you come to Cedar Shield with us. Deal?”

I rolled my eyes, weighing the options. In our last session, I used a funnel cloud to lift a boulder to the top of the waterfall. How much harder could this be?

“Deal.”

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.