13. Lora
Lora
The day passed in a haze of fatigue and monotony. We took turns wielding the boats upstream—everyone except Erion, who couldn’t control his powers well enough, and Hadrien, who apparently considered himself too important for manual labor.
Twilight painted the sky indigo as we moored our boats at a cluster of weathered houses along the riverbank. The settlement barely qualified as a village, maybe a dozen buildings in total. An inn loomed twice the size of its neighbors, warm light glowing through stained windows.
After securing rooms, we ordered food and spread out across the tables. To my dismay, the moon master joined Erion and me, his dramatic sigh filling the space between us.
“What a tedious journey.” His fingers drummed on the scarred tabletop. “And this abysmal excuse for an inn—absolutely horrid!”
Clenching my teeth, I bit back a retort. The brine-hearted buffoon had no right to complain. While the rest of us crammed into two rooms, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder on thin bedrolls, he’d secured a single room all to himself.
Some people never learned gratitude.
We ate our stew while Hadrien whined about the far too chewy meat. When our bellies were full, he ordered one of his servants to bring a bowl of water to the table.
With a confident grin, he clasped Erion’s shoulder. “Time for some training.”
I leaned back, curious what pearls of wisdom the so-called “master” might offer.
The servant hurried over, and the bowl sloshed as he set it down with a heavy thunk, liquid spilling over the rim.
“Watch it!” Hadrien grunted, shooting the servant a disapproving glare before turning back to Erion. “Now, focus on the water. Feel its weight.”
Erion bent forward, gazing into the bowl.
Hadrien slapped his arm. “Not like that. Don’t just stare at it like some tide-sodden fool.”
Erion’s hands trembled as he reached out over the bowl, moving them the way I’d taught him. The surface rippled, then went still.
“Pathetic.” Hadrien pursed his lips. “Stop flinching like the water scares you.”
Swallowing, Erion curled his fingers above the bowl, his whole body rigid with concentration. The water lifted—not even a finger’s height—before collapsing back.
“Useless.” Hadrien shook his head. “How do you expect to save us from the monsters with such silt-born incompetence?”
Erion’s chair scraped as he lurched to his feet.
“Erion—” I reached for him, but he slipped away, fleeing outside.
I rounded on Hadrien, heat crawling up my neck. “Is this your idea of teaching?”
Hadrien’s lips thinned. “He needs discipline, not coddling.”
“He needs a teacher who doesn’t make him want to drown himself.” I shoved my chair back and marched outside.
The cool night air wrapped around me as I glanced around. Erion slouched against the inn wall, staring at his hands.
“Ignore him.” I leaned against the wall beside him.
He sighed. “It’s all right. I’m getting used to failing.”
“You’re not failing. You’re learning!”
“I can barely create a ripple without making a mess.” His voice cracked. “Hadrien is right. How am I supposed to—” He bit down on his own words.
“One step at a time.” I brushed his arm. “Come on, let’s try something else.”
I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him around the corner, into the woods behind the inn.
“Where are we going?” Uncertainty laced his voice, but a flicker of excitement sparked in his eyes.
“I’m going to teach you shadow wielding.”
When the amber glow of the inn’s windows disappeared behind a curtain of dark trunks and undergrowth, I turned to face him.
Twirling my fingers, I drew darkness from beneath the trees. It pooled around my feet, swirling like smoke. I raised my palms, and the shadows swallowed me whole.
Erion gasped. I knew what he saw. From his angle, I’d vanished, replaced by a sphere of pure darkness.
Sounds sharpened to my ears, as always when the dark enveloped me.
The distant murmur of voices in the village, the rustle of leaves, the quickened rasp of Erion’s breath.
I reached out with my cold magic, and temperature became texture.
Cooler patches of air took shape in my mind.
A few paces away, his body heat carved out a space the cold couldn’t reach.
I expanded the shadow, letting it spill toward him. It curled up his legs and wrapped him in the same lightless cocoon.
“By the deep,” he breathed, wonder coloring his tone. “This is incredible! How far can you extend it?”
“I don’t know, really. I’ve never had to cover more than myself or a beast.” I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “In a fight, that’s all I need.”
“But how can you fight if you can’t see?”
“I can still sense my surroundings.” I moved closer, my voice low. “You can, too. Just reach out with your mind and feel the cold in the air around you.”
A laugh bubbled out of him. “Just that, huh? You don’t know how good you are, do you?”
Warmth rose to my cheeks. “I only do what my mother taught me. She used to say that the combination of shadow and cold wielding is one of our greatest strengths.”
His tone softened. “Sounds like she was a good teacher.”
My heart squeezed at the memory of her laughter as she taught me her tricks. “She was.”
The shape of the cold shifted as Erion eased closer. “She sounds wonderful.”
His hand brushed my arm, a feather-light touch. The contact jolted through me. I yanked the shadows back, backing out of reach as moonlight flooded in.
He raised his hands as if to apologize, but I cut him off. “Your turn.” Ignoring my hammering pulse, I gestured to the forest. “Reach for the shadows.”
He opened his mouth, eyes swirling with emotions, then closed it again. With a sigh, he shifted his gaze to the trees.
“Like this.” Moving my hands in a circle, I caught the darkness from beneath the roots.
He imitated me, but his movements were too stiff.
“Feel it, don’t force it,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Invite the shadows to dance.”
His gaze snapped to mine, and I offered a playful smirk. A bit of levity was exactly what he needed to loosen his tense shoulders.
Smiling, he returned his attention to the forest floor. With a sweep of his arm, a shadow twitched a palm’s width across the ground before snapping back.
Erion’s face split into a wide grin. “Did you see that?”
“Well done!” I grinned, refusing to let him notice the unease squeezing my chest.
He was learning too slowly. In less than two months, he was supposed to seal the rift that stretched through the heart of Blightlands, swarming with monsters. At this pace, he’d struggle to take down even a single beast on his own.
After almost a candlemark of practice, we headed back to the inn. Erion had made minimal progress, and I couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that haunted me. The moon master had been harsh, but he’d also been right.
Erion was nowhere near ready to save us from the monsters.