Chapter 20
Tess
"Sit," Mason said, his voice gruff but steady. We were stopped in a small clearing a mile or so away from where the attack took place.
"I'm fine," I argued, even as my knees decided to betray me with a slight wobble. "It's just a scratch."
His dark eyes locked onto mine, unyielding as the stone his kind could shift into. "Sit," he repeated, and this time there was no room for argument.
I sank onto a fallen log before I could think better of it, muttering under my breath. My shoulder throbbed, the sharp sting of the injury making it impossible to ignore. Kane crouched in front of me, his pale blue-violet eyes sharp and assessing as they studied the torn fabric of my shirt.
"This needs to be cleaned," Kane said, his tone brisk but measured. "I can help."
I hesitated, glancing at the others. Mason, standing a few feet away, shifted his weight, his dark eyes flickering with worry and frustration. "We can't just leave it like that," he said, his voice low but firm.
"But we're not supposed to use magic," I countered, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "The challenge specifically said—"
"To hell with the challenge," Mason interrupted, his jaw tightening. "It's your health, Tess. That's more important than some arbitrary rule."
Kane pulled out a water bottle from his pack and tore a strip of cloth from his shirt. With a subtle gesture, his magic shimmered over the fabric, purifying it. "I'll only use magic to clean the bandage," he said evenly. "You're bleeding, and ignoring it is not an option."
Mason stepped closer, his broad frame casting a protective shadow over me. "We'll deal with whatever comes," he said, his voice quieter now but no less determined. "You're not doing this alone."
Their insistence broke through my resistance, and I let out a slow, shaky breath. They were right. Stubbornness wouldn't get me anywhere, and I had to trust them—trust that they wouldn't let me fall.
"Alright," I said at last, my voice barely above a whisper. "Do it."
Kane nodded, wasting no time. He carefully poured water from the bottle over my wound, washing away the dirt and blood. The cool liquid stung as it touched the raw edges, but it was oddly soothing. He worked with quiet efficiency, making sure the wound was thoroughly clean.
Once finished, Kane's gaze flicked to Mason. "It's ready."
Mason nodded, taking the magically cleaned strip of cloth from Kane. His hands were steady but gentle as he pressed the fabric against my shoulder, tying it securely to stem any further bleeding. His warmth and care were a stark contrast to his imposing size, and I felt a wave of gratitude I couldn't quite put into words.
"There," Mason said, stepping back to survey his handiwork. "That should hold for now."
I flexed my shoulder experimentally, relief flooding through me as the pain dulled to a manageable throb. “Thank you,” I said softly, looking between the two of them. Their concern—and their willingness to act despite the risks—wasn’t lost on me.
“Just don’t make a habit of getting hurt,” Kane replied, brushing off his hands as he stood. His tone was neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—respect, maybe? Understanding? Whatever it was, it made the knot in my chest loosen.
Mason glanced at me, his expression softening. “Next time, don’t try to push through it on your own. We’ve got you.”
Before I could respond, a voice interrupted from behind us. “Bleeding heart, both of you,” Raze drawled as he sauntered over, his grin sharp. “Gets me right in the feels every time.”
Kane didn’t respond, but the faintest twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. Mason, however, was less entertained. His gaze darkened as he turned to Raze, his voice a low growl. “Maybe don’t take this so lightly. That fall could’ve killed her.”
“Relax, big guy,” Raze said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “She’s fine. You saw Kane. She’s patched up and good as new.”
“She’s not fine,” Mason snapped, his voice rising slightly. “She—”
“I’m right here, you know,” I cut in, crossing my arms despite the lingering ache in my shoulder. “And I’m fine. Really.”
Kane’s gaze shifted sharply to me. “Fine is relative. That fall was dangerous.” His tone was clipped, but there was a flicker of something else there—concern, perhaps. “And there’s something off about the bear too. It wasn't acting naturally.”
“Yeah,” I said, brushing some dirt off my arm. “It’s like it was... wrong. The bear’s movements were erratic.”
“It had been bespelled,” Mason said, smoothing a hand over his jaw. He spoke with quiet certainty. “Likely a vampire. The bloodlust was too specific.”
“Valen,” Kane said immediately, his voice cold as ice. “It’s his kind of game.”
Raze scowled, running a hand through his spiky hair. “Great. That asshole gives vampires everywhere a bad name, not that it’s a high bar to begin with.”
"We'll need to keep a sharper watch," Mason said, his gaze meeting Kane's briefly before sweeping over the rest of us. "Stay alert. If it's Valen, there'll be more traps. He doesn't just 'play.' He escalates."
Everyone nodded, grim agreement settling across the group. It wasn't the most comforting thought, but at least we were all on the same page.
"How far are we from the guild?" I asked, glancing at Kane. He closed his eyes, a faint shimmer of elemental magic dancing around him as he reached out with his powers.
"Roughly twenty-five miles," he said, opening his eyes. "At our current pace, we won't make it before nightfall. We'll need to camp and start again before dawn."
"If we leave two hours before sunrise," Mason added, "we should reach the guild with time to spare."
"Assuming we don't run into more of Valen's surprises," Raze said, his hazel eyes scanning the treeline.
As we set off again, the tension in the group began to ease. Mason kept close to me, his steady presence a silent reassurance. Kane took the lead, his sharp eyes scanning the path ahead with the precision of someone who trusted nothing and no one. Raze brought up the rear, his usual swagger undiminished.
We trudged along the muddy trail, each heavy step accompanied by the squelch-squelch of damp earth stubbornly clinging to our boots. The aftermath of the skirmish lingered in the air—the metallic tang of blood mixed with the wet, earthy scent of the forest and traces of dissipating magic that shimmered faintly in the humid light breaking through the trees above.
Kane walked slightly ahead of me, his posture rigid, his movements precise. Every so often, I caught the flicker of his gaze in my direction—assessing, calculating. The intensity of his attention sent a ripple of awareness through me.
Finally, he slowed his pace, falling into step beside me. "You're reckless," he said, his tone cool and clipped, but there was something else beneath it—something almost charged .
I scoffed. "Nice to see you're warming up to me."
He didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he angled his body just slightly toward mine, enough that the space between us felt almost deliberately measured. "You nearly got yourself killed back there," he continued, his voice lower now, edged with something close to frustration. "You're supposed to be the first human Dragon Rider. You won’t last long if you don’t learn how to use what you’ve been given."
I sighed, rolling my shoulder where the dull ache of our earlier fight still lingered. "I’m aware, Kane. But in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly have centuries of magical training at my disposal."
He stopped abruptly, turning toward me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. His eyes—cold blue-violet, sharp as cut glass—locked onto mine. "Then it’s time to start."
The weight of his gaze held me in place, the air between us suddenly taut.
"Your bond with Thalon gives you an advantage. Magic isn’t just about power—it’s about control, perception. You need to start paying attention."
I folded my arms. "And let me guess, you’re volunteering to teach me?"
His lips pressed into a thin line, as if the very idea irritated him. "You need structure, not improvisation. If you want to survive, yes, I’ll teach you."
There was no warmth in the offer, no reassurance—only stark, logical efficiency. And yet, there was something about his voice, the way he spoke with absolute certainty, that made my pulse quicken.
I exhaled sharply. "Alright. Where do we start?"
Kane nodded, satisfied, and resumed walking, though his strides were more measured now, deliberately keeping pace with mine. "First, by refining your awareness. Magic isn’t just about casting spells—it’s about understanding the world around you." His voice dipped lower, almost intimate in the quiet space between us. "You rely too much on sight. That’s a human weakness."
"Gee, sorry for having basic biology," I muttered.
He ignored the comment, stepping closer—just enough that the heat of him brushed against my arm. "You have other senses. Use them. Listen for sounds that don’t belong. Feel the shift in the air, the vibrations in the ground. Your bond with Thalon enhances all of it, whether you realize it or not."
I swallowed. His proximity made it harder to focus, the crisp scent of him—something cool and faintly like cedar—curling around me.
I dropped my gaze to the uneven terrain, my boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. "Right now, all I feel is mud."
"Then you’re not focusing."
His voice was sharper now, but beneath the edge, there was something else—expectation.
"Show me."
I hesitated. I hadn’t exactly demonstrated my magic in front of the others yet—not properly.
But Kane wasn’t someone who asked for something without reason. If he wanted to see it, it was because he thought it would help.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and reached inward, searching for the familiar thread of power that had been growing in me since I bonded with Thalon. It came easily now, no longer the fleeting, slippery thing it had been in the beginning.
A flicker of warmth ghosted over my skin as I summoned the energy, golden and purple light swirling to life around my hands—vibrant, pulsing, alive.
A sharp intake of breath.
Before I could react, Kane reached out, his hands closing over mine.
The moment his skin met mine, a jolt of energy crackled between us, my magic twisting and surging in response. A shiver ran through me as the power coiled tighter, not in resistance, but recognition.
Kane’s grip remained steady, his blue-violet eyes darkening as he studied the energy coursing between us. His gaze flickered to the golden and purple hues in my magic, something unreadable shadowing his expression.
“This shouldn’t be possible,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. His fingers tightened slightly, grounding me as my power hummed in response to his touch. “Light and dark magic don’t naturally coexist like this. They repel each other—clash. But yours...” He trailed off, tilting his head as if listening to something beyond my comprehension. “Yours is balanced.”
I swallowed hard. “Is that... bad?”
His silver-blue eyes flicked up to mine, sharp and assessing. “It’s dangerous.” The words were quiet, but they carried weight. “Most magic users struggle to control even one affinity without it consuming them. But you—” His thumb brushed against the inside of my wrist, sending another ripple of sensation through me. “You’re holding both. And they aren’t fighting you.”
I exhaled slowly, my pulse still racing. “Maybe they know I don’t have time for a magical identity crisis.”
Kane huffed a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but his expression remained serious. “You’ll need to learn control. Mastery. If you lose your grip on this balance, either side could overwhelm you.” His voice dipped lower, more intimate. “And I doubt the world is ready for what happens if you break.”
I met his gaze, something electric passing between us in the charged silence.
“Then I guess I better make sure that doesn’t happen,” I said softly.
He didn’t let go. Instead, his fingers tightened slightly, grounding me as my energy continued to hum between us. The air felt heavier, charged, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
"Now," Kane said, his voice softer, more intimate, "let’s see if you can do more than make it look pretty."
I huffed. "You really know how to motivate a girl."
Ignoring my sarcasm, he lifted a hand, and a faint shimmer of elemental energy flickered around his fingers. "Try a spell. You’ve practiced accessing your magic, but can you shape it into something useful?"
I hesitated. "I mean... I think so? Thalon showed me how some of them work, but I haven’t exactly had time to test all of them properly."
"Then now’s the time." Kane's voice dropped to something quieter, something edged with challenge. "Focus on the way your magic moves—how it flows. Instead of letting it simply exist around you, direct it. Envision it wrapping around you like a veil."
I inhaled deeply, letting his words settle. Then, closing my eyes again, I focused. I'd try the Invisible Shroud spell.
The golden and purple swirls of energy shifted, responding to my will. I imagined them stretching outward, twisting into a fine mist that wrapped around me, bending light and shadow until—
"Holy shit," Raze muttered from somewhere nearby.
I opened my eyes. Or at least, I thought I did. The world around me looked the same, but something was... different.
"Tess?" Mason’s deep voice rumbled with something akin to awe.
I turned toward him, only to realize that his gaze wasn’t quite meeting mine. He was looking through me.
I looked down at my hands—except I couldn’t see them.
A grin spread across my face. "Oh," I breathed. "That actually worked."
Kane stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied where I stood—or where he assumed I was. The scrutiny sent a shiver down my spine.
"Not bad," he admitted. "Your form isn’t perfect. I can still detect a slight distortion if I focus, but for a first attempt? Impressive."
I let the magic slip away, allowing myself to become visible again. The shift was almost seamless, as if I had simply stepped back into the world rather than fading into it.
Mason gave a low whistle. "That’s going to come in handy."
Raze smirked. "Yeah, especially if she wants to sneak off and—"
Kane shot him a look, and Raze held up his hands. "Fine, fine. No inappropriate jokes. But seriously, that’s a hell of a trick."
I grinned, still feeling the residual hum of magic along my skin. "Not bad for a librarian, huh?"
Kane's lips twitched, the closest thing to amusement I'd seen from him all day. He held my gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
"Not bad at all."
The rest of the afternoon passed in much the same way—walking while practicing my magic. My heart warmed watching them all, each in their own way taking care of our little group. Mason had been hovering close all day, his strong hands finding excuses to steady me when I stumbled, offering water before I even realized I was thirsty. The gentle giant routine shouldn't have been as appealing as it was, but my body definitely had other ideas.
Then there was Kane, patient despite his usual ice-prince demeanor, helping me channel my magic with precise instructions and those intense violet eyes that made concentrating... challenging.
Raze kept us all from drowning in the tension, his wild stories and infectious laugh a lifeline when things got too heavy.
Despite the exhaustion creeping into my limbs, a sense of companionship settled deep in my chest. We weren’t just a group thrown together by circumstance—we were becoming something more, a team, maybe even a family. But that didn’t mean I could rely on them to carry me through this. If I wanted to stand beside them, I had to earn it.
Through it all, Thalon's words from a recent lesson echoed quietly in my mind: Balance is not the absence of chaos, but the mastery of it.