Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Pain spears through my leg with every step.
Since the iron collar is constantly draining my energy, and we’ve barely been given any food, the deep wounds in my thigh and shoulder haven’t been able to heal enough to be fully back to normal.
So a jolt of pain hits me every time my boot connects with the ground.
The fact that we’re running at breakneck speed isn’t exactly helping either.
My gaze drifts back to Orion, who is running at the head of our little group. He is the one who is setting this grueling pace. Stress radiates from every inch of his lean muscular body as he hurtles through the woods.
We don’t know exactly how much time has passed, but all of us have estimated that it has been at least two entire days. Which means that we don’t have long before Orion’s wounds become too old for Haldia to heal.
I watch the way he clenches his hand and whips his head from side the side while running, as he tries to guess where we should go to find the Gold Clan.
Guilt flickers inside me. I was so quick to believe that he had turned on us back there.
We all were. But in reality, he alone almost managed to win this entire war for us.
He knew that the only reason Draven couldn’t attack was because Jessina kept that knife to my throat.
So he risked his own life and pretended to surrender so that he could get close to Jessina and kill her.
If he had succeeded, Draven would have been free to take out Emperor Bane with all of us to back him up. And then, this war would be over.
But instead, Orion lost his eye.
So I don’t ask him to slow his pace. I just grit my teeth against the pain that shoots through my leg with every step and continue running.
“Logically, they should be living in the middle of the island,” Isera says from where she is sprinting along next to me.
Sensing a but coming, I ask, “But?”
“But people also need fresh water close by. And the only river we have seen so far is the one we just passed.”
At that, Orion finally twists his head to glance at us over his shoulder.
However, as if by pure habit, he turns his head to the left when he does it.
A jolt goes through him when he realizes that he can’t actually see anything through that eye, and he quickly snaps his head back.
Instead of twisting his head in the other direction to try looking at us over his right shoulder, he just keeps his gaze on the trees ahead.
“Suggestion?” he asks.
My chest tightens at how carefully neutral his voice is.
Isera, however, simply answers him in her normal voice, as if she didn’t notice his embarrassment. “We follow the river.”
He stops so quickly that I almost slam right into him. Throwing myself sideways, I just barely manage to swerve around him. A tree rustles in annoyance as I yank my hands up and brace myself against its thin trunk in order to halt my forward momentum.
It’s a surprisingly bland forest. In the last pocket reality we visited, the forest was so colorful that it felt like I was walking through a rainbow.
But this one is just filled with normal trees.
Pale green leaves rustle in the canopy above us, and soft grass covers the ground.
Though I think that’s because this pocket reality has been created in the opposite way.
In the previous one, we entered a world that had been pulled into our reality. This time, I think we’ve entered a pocket reality that originally belongs to this world, but has been pulled into someone else’s world in order to hide it from everyone else on our continent.
Though I don’t know that for certain, of course, so I just push that thought out of my head as I step over a thick brown root and turn back to Isera and Orion.
“We still need to figure out how to actually get the leader of the Gold Clan to put on the dragon steel and come with us,” I say as we start jogging back the way we came. “Without access to our magic, it’s going to be difficult.”
A flash of terrible need burns through me just at the mention of magic. Goddess above, I just need a quick little boost. Just one. Then I could get my head back on straight again and be able to focus on our mission.
Flexing my hands, I try to dispel that insistent urge. It works poorly.
“We won’t be able to make an actual plan until we know what we’re dealing with,” Isera replies. “Everyone thought the Gold Clan was a myth until just recently, remember?”
“Not everyone,” Orion points out.
Isera shifts her gaze to him and arches a dark eyebrow. “Any insight on what they’re like, then?”
He grimaces before slowly admitting, “No, I’m afraid not.”
“They have shield magic, though.” I look from face to face and shrug. “So I’d guess that they’re some kind of warrior society.”
Orion runs a hand over his jaw, a considering look blowing across his features. “Like those big and stocky humans in infantry units who carry huge shields to protect the archers behind them. Yes, that would make sense.”
I have no idea what he is talking about since I have next to no knowledge of human battle tactics, but I nod anyway since I’m pretty sure that it’s similar to what I was imagining.
“Forcing someone like that to do our bidding is going to be difficult when we have no weapons at all,” Isera points out.
Before either of us can come up with some kind of answer or plan, we reach the river that we passed earlier.
It runs diagonally through the fresh green woods.
One end is heading back the way we came, but more towards the right, while the other one continues deeper into the island but slanting towards the left.
We start following it towards the left.
Water gurgles merrily next to us as we run along the riverbank.
We’re still keeping a good pace, but Orion has thankfully slowed down slightly so that we’re not just blindly dashing across the ground.
Pain still pulses through my leg with every step, but it’s drowned out by that terrible need inside me that is begging me to use my magic.
I try to block out both sensations, but it’s getting increasingly difficult.
I need to use my magic soon. Just to get a little reset. Then I’ll be fine again.
Sunlight falls in through the clear barrier of the pocket reality.
Just like the last one we were in, the walls that separate it from the outside world are transparent but they also blur and distort the view on the other side.
Like looking through a thick but clear liquid that moves and ripples slightly.
So the sun is visible, but it looks a little warped.
While we continue running along the river, I cast a glance up at that distorted sun, trying to estimate how much time has passed since we entered the pocket reality.
The island was bigger than I thought it would be.
Though I suppose it makes sense. If an entire clan has been living here for millennia, it has to be sizeable enough to fit them all.
Isera sucks in a sharp breath between her teeth. “Stop.”
We immediately slam to a halt.
I’m just about to ask her what’s wrong when I spot it too.
Buildings.
Through the trees up ahead, tall buildings made of beige stone are visible.
Anticipation pulses through me as we sneak forward on silent feet until we reach the edge of what looks like a massive clearing.
My jaw drops at what I find.
The river continues right through the clearing, it’s sparkling water casting glittering light over the beautiful city.
Though, city is probably not the right word.
Buildings rise up from the grass in no discernable pattern, interspersed with trees and other smaller creeks that branch off from the main river.
And the buildings themselves are works of art.
Tall and round, with a peaked dome at the top and several layers, they look kind of like beige versions of those fancy cakes that Trevor talked about during that final meal before the end of the Atonement Trials.
Trevor, who with his stone magic made it all the way to the final competition in the Atonement Trials, actually dreamed of opening up a bakery.
Since I was a fish cutter, I knew nothing of cakes, but he had apparently been trading for information about all kinds of pastries.
His eyes practically glittered when he told us about the different cakes he was going to bake and eat if he won the Atonement Trials.
And these buildings kind of remind me of those.
Each layer of the buildings is decorated with stone carvings in swirling patterns and round stones that look like buttons.
With the sunlight bathing the beige stones in a warm glow and the river casting glittering sparkles on the surface, and the rustling trees adding shade, it all looks incredibly beautiful and peaceful and refined.
It also looks very fragile.
For a clan that has shield magic, I was kind of expecting more of a fortress.
Tearing my gaze from the beautiful buildings, I instead quickly sweep it over the people who are strolling across the grass.
Surprise flits through me when I realize that they are all wearing the exact same type of clothes, which are decidedly not dragon scale armor.
These garments are soft and flowing. Like long swatches of fabric that have been swept around the person in different layers.
The inner layer looks to be white, while the part that covers their legs in a skirt-like fashion is more beige in color.
Then finally, they all wear a broad golden sash across their chests.
All of them also have the exact same hair style. Long hair that has been braided around their head like a crown and then ending in a bun at the top of their head. Small gold decorations are set into that swirling braid, and a golden tassel flutters down from the bun at the top.
For a few seconds, all I can do is stare at them.
This is the Gold Clan? The mythical clan with the powerful shield and ward magic that will determine the outcome of this war? I was expecting a tough warrior society. Not… this.
“So…” I begin, still staring in complete bafflement at the members of the Gold Clan who are strolling along the glittering creeks. “Not a warrior clan, then.”
“No,” both Isera and Orion agree. They sound as surprised as I am.
“How do you want to handle this?”
Neither of them says anything straight away. Instead, they both just frown out at the strange society we’ve found. I consider in silence as well.
Just walking in there won’t work. They have been living here isolated for millennia, so if three fae suddenly just stroll into the middle of their city, it’s going to create chaos.
What we really need to do is to locate the clan leader and kidnap that person without anyone else in this clan noticing.
The only question is of course how we’re supposed to find that person.
In all other dragon clans, you can tell by their dragon scale armor.
Draven’s black armor is much more imposing than the rest of his clan’s.
Diana is the only one among her people who has carvings of animals on her purple armor.
Rin’s orange armor is elegantly decorated, while the others in her clan keep theirs plain. And so on.
But here, if everyone is wearing the exact same clothes, how are we supposed to figure out who the leader is?
“I think we should try to circle around,” I begin. “If we can—”
A gasp and a crash split the air behind us.
We whirl around to find a dragon shifter in flowing beige and gold robes staring at us with wide eyes. His mouth is open, and there is a broken clay jug on the ground before his feet, as if he dropped it in shock.
“You’re… fae,” he blurts out.
Goddess fucking damn it.
“We—” I begin.
He opens his mouth to scream.