Chapter 21 #6
“Don’t be so stubborn,” the man in question said behind me. Kharos immediately fell in beside him as they closed the distance. “You don’t know the paths. I told you to stay close. Follow me if you want the flowers.”
He crossed in front of me as if nothing had happened between us and turned east, already leading the way.
I said nothing. I let the distance stretch between us as I followed, reluctant and silent, defiance mingling beneath my skin.
Earlier, the urge to please him had caught me off guard.
Now it was gone, replaced by the urge to make him hurt.
We ducked beneath low branches and stepped over roots that thickened the deeper we went, and as time stretched on, my patience wore away with it.
“Are you sure this is the way?” I asked at last, irritation breaking through my restraint. We were meant to be heading toward thinner canopy, but the forest felt as though it were closing in instead. I glanced upward. The light was already fading, evening pressing in.
After what felt like hours, he paused and pushed aside a curtain of branches. I stepped through with a muttered complaint, aware of his laughter behind me.
And then I looked ahead.
The Ludaryn shrine lay before us. Stone and silence and intention, beautiful in its stillness. Beyond it stretched a vast lake, its surface catching the last of the sunlight, shimmering as if the water itself were enchanted.
I turned slowly, letting the space unfold around me. The air here felt different—charged, watchful. Glowing mushrooms clustered near the roots and rocks, their light faint but steady, the same magic I’d seen in the Lornwild.
Something in me eased as I took it in. My piercing answered, a calm radiating through me, as if the magic threaded through this place recognized me in return. It felt like a place that noticed intrusion, where careless presence might stain something meant to remain untouched.
I spotted the noctyra blossoms near the lake’s edge, where the canopy broke and the sky opened above them. I headed toward them, leaving Thanor behind as he gathered fallen branches, already preparing a fire.
We would stay until the moon climbed high and full, its light spilling over the shrine. Only then could I draw on its strength—woven with my magic, Thanor’s, and Kharos’s—to create the salves and elixirs I would need.
I plucked the blossoms carefully, with a reverence the place seemed to demand, and murmured my thanks to the forest for its offering.
Tonight, I would show Thanor the power of my magic, the skill in my work, in the elixirs shaped by my hands.
He would wake tomorrow knowing one thing with certainty: there would never be another Bondward like me.
If regret followed, so be it. Tomorrow, after my escape, I would seek out the rebellion. I didn’t yet know where to begin, but I would find it.
I glanced over my shoulder. Kharos slept nearby, his bulk rising and falling in slow rhythm, while Thanor stood by the fire, intent on its low glow. I moved carefully to the lake’s edge and knelt, opening one of my satchels.
The mud there was dark and clinging as I scooped it inside. It would serve. Blackening my hair would help me pass unnoticed through the city.
I returned to the fire and laid a bundle of fur beside it before settling onto it. Above us, the moon climbed higher, its slow ascent reminding me the time was nearing.
“You should rest.”
He gestured to the furs beneath me. “You’ll need all your strength. I expect the strongest potions from you—nothing less will do for the victories ahead.”
I gave him a look. “I’m rested enough. Don’t concern yourself with me.”
He shook his head. Goddess, I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.
I closed my eyes and exhaled as the ache behind them rose again, a dull reminder of yesterday’s wine and violence. Despite myself, I eased back for a moment, allowing my body the rest it asked for. When Thanor held out water, I took it without thanks.
The corner of his mouth lifted further, my defiance clearly more entertaining to him than obedience would ever be.
“I’ll keep watch.” He glanced toward the darkening trees. “We have two hours before the moon is highest. Rest.”
I answered with a grunt and lay back, turning my back to him. I refused him the satisfaction of a reply and let myself drift into sleep.
What felt like hours later, I surfaced slowly, drawn from sleep by rough hands moving through my hair. Fingers caught my chin, tipping my face upward as warm air brushed my ear.
“Wake up, little Bondward.”
The words were low. A presence pressed close, breath grazing my neck as a hand continued its steady, infuriatingly gentle rhythm on my scalp. A moan slipped from me before I was fully awake.
I sat up abruptly, startled by both Thanor’s nearness and my body’s betrayal.
“It’s time,” he murmured, enjoying my discomfort.
I shot him a glare as I stretched and lifted my eyes to the sky. The moon hung full and bright above us, its light spilling across the lake and casting the clearing in a pale, pearled glow. The air thrummed with anticipation.
Behind me, Kharos rose to his feet, standing at attention, already aware of what would be required of him.
“This time, you listen to me,” I said evenly. “You follow my lead.”
He looked amused. “Of course. I’ll allow it. For now.”
Allow. Irritation sparked. But this wasn’t the moment to indulge it. I forced it down before it could interfere with what came next, then went to retrieve my Bondward satchel. I knelt and began gathering the ingredients for the rite, steadying myself and letting the moonlight fall over my hands.
Kneeling before the shrine, I laid out my ingredients with care. I crushed the blossoms, shredded the caps, and ground the fungus together until it became a smooth paste. Then I worked in Cassius’s oils and herbs, adjusting the mixture slowly until it reached the consistency I needed.
Above me, the moon hung high and full as I focused on my breathing, letting it slow and steady, my heart rate easing until I slipped into a near-meditative calm.
I glanced over my shoulder. Thanor and Kharos stood nearby.
I signaled for them to come closer. Thanor lowered to his knees beside me, which pleased me more than it should have.
Though I doubted I would be permitted to witness it again.
Kharos took his place behind me, his warm breath settling between my shoulder blades.
I added the prepared mixture to a slender bowl and lifted my hands, humming as I spoke the incantation known to all Bondwards. As the words left me, I felt my magic rise. The moonlight drew from it steadily, the vibration within me quickening as if something were pulling eagerly at my core.
This was my talent. Elion had always said my magic was like fire—nearly inexhaustible, fierce in its strength. I felt it answer the moon, weaving with its light as I instructed Thanor to place his hand between my shoulder blades and Kharos to lean into me. They did so without hesitation.
The effect was immediate. My magic surged in a way I’d never experienced before, pouring out of me in an unbroken rush.
My breath left me in uneven gasps as my power flowed into the mixtures before me, expanding them, strengthening them.
They began to glow, responding to the force being driven into them.
Thanor’s presence entered the connection, pulling me taut until my body trembled, my breathing reduced to shallow pants. Kharos’s power followed, steadier, grounding, but no less immense.
Something was wrong.
My piercing flared, sending a rush of sensation through me—cold, warmth, pain, and calm—until it drowned out everything else. It felt like something trying to rip itself free from me.
The pull didn’t ease. The moon continued to draw from me, draining rather than balancing, and my strength began to falter. My magic spilled away too quickly, leaving me hollow and unsteady.
“Enough!” Thanor tore his hand away, breaking the connection.
It was already too late. The drain continued, unchecked and violent, panic flickering at the edges of my focus.
My hands were glowing, the strange tingle refusing to leave.
I felt Thanor move beside me, heard his voice as he tried to pull me free of the meditative state—but I couldn’t respond as the light overtook me.
Then the last thing I remembered was a hard, precise blow that struck the side of my neck.
Darkness crashed over me, and the ground rushed toward me as everything went black.