Chapter 25 #2
Astraia knew Caelan was a better swordsman, with far more years of practice, but she could tell he was taking it easy on her.
His breathing was not nearly as ragged as hers, and his attacks were lazy compared to what she had witnessed with Apus.
Always the nobleman, he was not going to risk unintentional harm in a training duel.
But she did not want charity. She needed a challenge.
Caelan lunged again, bringing his sword down, but at half the strength she knew him to be capable of inflicting. Astraia waited until the last second, then dodged, spinning behind him.
Without hesitation, she crouched on her knees and spun out her leg, catching his feet. He tripped and tumbled to the ground. Just before his face met stone, he caught himself with his hands and rolled on to his back.
But Astraia was already there, driving her boot down hard onto the hand holding his sword. He yelled, relaxing his hand, and the blade slipped. With his other hand, he gripped her ankle and yanked hard.
Astraia fell on top of him, bracing her hands on either side of his face. He winked at her again, then gripped both of her wrists before rolling on the ground, pinning her beneath him. She tried to wriggle free, but he kept her hands pinned to her sides.
“Do you yield?” he asked, smiling down at her, his dark hair in disarray with dirt and leaves scattered between the strands.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She smiled and flung her forehead forward.
The sound of his nose crunching on impact rang through the courtyard.
Caelan groaned, reaching for his nose now streaming with blood, giving Astraia the leverage she needed. Her knee drove upward, right between his legs.
He buckled, falling over onto his side with a shout. In a single fluid movement, she unsheathed her dagger and rolled on top of him, holding the blade at his throat.
“Yield,” she commanded, staring at the lord’s bloodied face.
Blinking, he stared at her, eyes wide in disbelief. “I yield.”
A roar of applause rippled through the men staring at the two warriors entangled on the courtyard grounds. A few men whistled, laughing and shouting her name.
Astraia did not notice the crowd. She only heard a low husky voice echoing in her mind, “You are stronger than your bonds.”
She blinked rapidly, dazed. Sheathing her dagger, she rose to her feet, peering down at the man she had kissed just the night before. He pushed up from the ground, rising to meet her gaze.
“Enough. Back to training!” he shouted at the men.
A unanimous “Yes, sir” resounded from the men as they took up their swords and began running through drills.
Astraia did not linger. She grabbed her cloak and walked back toward the woods, trying to process how she had acted. Not like a warrior—like a bounty hunter.
She did not get far before she heard Caelan shouting for her.
“Traia, wait!”
She sighed, stopping just inside the trees, turning to face him.
Caelan’s boots crunched on leaves as he stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. “What was that?” he whispered, looking at her as if he was seeing a ghost, his eyes searching hers for answers she was not sure she was ready to give.
“What?” she asked.
“That!” He pointed back toward the training grounds where they had just brawled. “That is not how the Astraia I know fights. Dirty, ruthless.” His nostrils flared.
“The Astraia you know died, Caelan. Five years ago in a flash of light. Her entire world burned. And she has been learning to survive ever since. Maybe”—she paused, narrowing her eyes—“you would know if you asked. But this is who I am now.”
“Who you are? What does that even mean?” he replied. “You survived an assault on your life, but that does not change your character. It does not change the fierce, noble girl I loved into some crazed barbarian.”
“You don’t know…” she murmured, regret coating her words.
“What? What don’t I know, Traia?” His voice was frantic, pleading.
“There was no assault, Caelan. No one else was in that room except my father, mother, Elion, and…me.”
“I don’t understand. I thought –”
“It was me! I killed them!” She was shouting, choking back tears.
Her bonds responded with a blaze of hot heat surging at her spine, eager to be unleashed.
“Power chose me, and I didn’t even know.
Elion was arguing with Father, defending me, and I lost it.
I flared. I flared the most devastating Starborne ability in the realm and murdered my family. Every last one of them. Dead.”
Relinquishing her tether, she let Power flash through her, a white blinding light pouring from her eyes and hands.
Caelan stepped back, eyes wide, fear etched across his face.
“Now do you understand? I am not the same innocent girl you loved because blood stains my hands, my soul.” Her voice echoed off the trees, scattering the birds. She could feel her hair standing on end, floating around her as Power surged through her.
He gaped at her, opening his mouth then closing it.
The trees surrounding her moaned in the wind, as if weeping for her.
The air felt thicker as she struggled to draw breath from the crushing weight of her grief.
In that moment, with Power filling her veins, she grieved her brother and the woman she used to be—the woman Caelan wanted her to be.
She grieved broken trust and promises never kept.
Most of all, she grieved an uncertain future. Caelan might have been a fool to think her unchanged, but she was the fool to think she could have a future with him here.
But another voice tore through the darkness, tugging her away from the edge she so often found herself teetering over. At first, she thought the voice was Elion’s, but as it grew louder in the recesses of her mind, she realized it was another’s.
“Elion’s death is not your fault. The bond does not own you. You command it.”
Draven. It was his words that pierced the darkness.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the voice and wrapped her mind around her tether. The doors to her bonds gently closed, and the world stilled.
Opening her eyes, she found Caelan still staring at her, face pale.
“Don’t ask me to be more than I am.” Her voice was firm, commanding, unapologetic.
Silence swallowed them as they stood in the wild woods of Desire.
Then he lowered to a knee before her, his head downcast, and cleared his throat. “Forgive me, please. You’re right. Please, let me rebuild your trust, restore my honor in your sight.”
She looked down at the mighty captain of the Empyrean Guard, bowed low before her. He could never understand. But that was not his fault.
She sighed and crouched in front of him, placing her hands on either side of his face. Gently, she lifted his head, letting their eyes meet. Sadness and regret filled his gaze.
“I forgive you, Caelan.”
She gripped both his hands, and together they rose to their feet.
Pulling her to him, he enveloped her in an embrace.
He breathed deeply, and she could hear the steady cadence of his heart as she pressed her cheek to his chest. The future she was once promised might be gone, but at least for now, she would cling to the peace of the present.
“Now,” she started, glancing up at him, “when do we get to hunt these wraiths you mentioned?”
Astraia stood with her arms crossed as Caelan unfurled a map of Astradeon onto the large oak table before her.
The ancient paper smelled of dust and was severely worn around the edges with frequent use.
He placed a lantern and an empty goblet on the corners to prevent the scroll from rolling in on itself.
“For months, we have been hearing rumors of random fires starting without cause along our borders, mostly along the northeastern border of the Skyforge Peaks.” He traced a line with his finger along the map.
“But only in the past fortnight have there been whispers of dark shadows accompanying the fires. And the fires were reported to be ‘unholy,’ almost impossible to distinguish.”
“That sounds like the fire from the village,” Astraia replied, recalling the unnatural way the flames wove through the buildings and only weakened when the wraith was injured.
“Yes, and just yesterday we received this.” He opened a drawer in the table, pulled out a small scroll, and handed it to her. “It is from the Skyforge Drengr.”
The Drengr protected the Skyforge Peaks province.
They were warriors known for their brutality and ruthless battle tactics, taking no survivors.
Before the Shattering, when the Drakari still flew through the skies as stewards of Rage, the Skyforge Drengr fought with them as equals, a testament to their ferocity.
There was a tentative truce between Virellia and the Skyforge Peaks, but an alliance had always been out of the question.
Astraia unrolled the scroll, reading the damning message scribbled on the page. Her face fell, dread pooling in her stomach. “They have seen more wraiths?”
“Yes, several. They believe the wraiths are gathering in hordes, mounting an army.”
“That is impossible. Dominion and his stewards were devoured in the Shattering. Balance sacrificed himself to ensure Dominion was destroyed. How can there be one wraith, let alone a horde?” Astraia’s pulse quickened at the idea.
Yet her mind drifted to the single shimmering light hovering above the waters of her mind.
The Stars were her tether—they lived and spoke to her.
It would not be so impossible to believe Dominion and his stewards survived the Shattering as well.
Perhaps they had simply waited until the right moment to strike.
A shudder ran down her spine at the realization that the wraith who attacked her was not alone.
“I do not know how, but I do believe the wraiths are becoming a threat.” Caelan leaned over the map, his fingers gripping the edge of the table.
“So what is the plan? Do we know the location of the horde?”
“No, but that is what we need to find out. And I could use a skilled archer in my hunting party.” He smiled, glancing sideways at her.
She smiled back. “When do we leave?”
“At dawn. I have a team of my best Empyrean Guards ready to move. But Astraia.” He paused, holding her hand in his. “Please, do not try to be the hero. I cannot… I will not survive losing you again.”
“Caelan, do not ask me to stand by and watch while you and your men fight.”
“Very well, but we do not engage until we understand what threatens us. I will not risk starting a battle with losing odds.” He rolled up the map as he spoke, but she was unconvinced.
If the wraiths were gathering in a horde, and they were even half the strength of the wraith she fought, they would need to be prepared for the worst.