Chapter 33
Six hours on foot had carved exhaustion into every one of them.
Rain held up better than the rest physically—aside from sweating his bollocks off—but even he struggled to comprehend why the Red Kingdom had chosen this hellscape as the environment surrounding their capital.
The heat was a living thing, pressing against their skin, crawling into their lungs, clinging to their clothes like a second suffocating layer.
Mentally, it was worse.
Channelling the squad’s energy for hours on end left Rain irritable, agitated, and dangerously close to snapping.
But he couldn’t afford a reprieve. Not here.
Not when they were deep in enemy territory, surrounded by scattered roads and sleeping villages.
Most civilians were still in their beds, but early risers; farmers, hunters, traders, would soon begin their day.
And the last thing Rain needed was to be spotted by a Red local wandering through their fields.
The first half of the journey had been spent trudging through dry, sandy dunes where dehydration and fatigue were their biggest threats. But the terrain had shifted in the last two hours, morphing into a rocky rain-forest that felt like stepping into another world entirely.
The ground was softer, kinder on their legs but the dangers multiplied.
The rain-forest was alive with nocturnal predators.
Eyes glinted from the underbrush. Leaves rustled with unseen movement.
Rain had already flung several creatures off their path, including a Cankoran Snake; a serpent native only to the tropical regions of Red territory.
Fifteen feet long, thick as a grown man’s torso, and venomous enough to kill an elephant in minutes.
Watching that monstrous creature slither past them after Rain hurled it aside with his power had been… unforgettable. The threat of becoming a midnight snack added a sharp, gruelling edge to their trek. Rain couldn’t afford to let his guard down for even a heartbeat.
Finally, they pushed through the last wall of tropical foliage that bordered the city. The dense greenery offered blessed coverage; a pocket of shadow where they could rest and regroup.
Vass guzzled water straight from his flask, letting it spill down his chiselled torso.
All the men had stripped themselves of their base layers; bare-chested, including Rain.
The desert heat had forced them to shed their outer layers hours ago, and now the rainforest humidity clung to their skin like a damp shroud.
Sweat and grime coated every inch of them.
Rain regretted ever thinking this mission would be straightforward. At this point, the front line sounded like a spa day in comparison. Perhaps that was the exhaustion talking.
He tossed his pack aside and sank down against a jutting rock formation.
The stone was cool or at least cooler than his overheated skin and he let his head rest back against it.
His pulse throbbed behind his eyes. He scanned the surroundings one last time, pushing his power to its limit.
His head pounded, vision blurring at the edges, but he forced himself to sweep the area thoroughly.
Nothing. No threats. No aetherials. No mortals.
Only then did he allow himself to close his channels.
The relief was immediate and dizzying.
He shut his eyes, stifling a yawn, wrists resting loosely against his bent knees. The rainforest hummed around them, cicadas shrieking, leaves dripping, distant creatures calling into the night. The air tasted of wet earth and rotting foliage. The ground steamed beneath them, heat rising in waves.
For the first time since crossing the border, Rain let himself breathe
“Twenty minutes to rest, then we need to be back on the move,” Short commanded.
A collective groan rippled through the squad as they collapsed onto the forest floor, stretching out aching muscles.
“Drink, Royale.”
Short tapped a canteen against Rain’s chest.
He took it without opening his eyes, uncapped it, and sipped with a squint. The water was lukewarm, metallic, but it soothed the dryness in his throat.
Renn and Glass leaned over a map, whispering strategies and vantage points. Short listened from beside Rain, her posture rigid despite her exhaustion. Vass and Hamish lay flat on their backs, already half-asleep, chests rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths.
Rain screwed the cap back on his canteen and set it aside. His hand drifted to his pocket.
The pouch.
Raymon’s gift.
He pulled it out, fingers brushing the velvet. If there was ever a moment to examine the aetherchrome, it was now, before the next phase of their mission swallowed them whole.
He loosened the knotted strings.
The reaction was immediate.
A surge of energy slammed into him, ripping every channel open at once. Rain sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as the red Aether stone tumbled into his palm. He sat bolt upright, eyes wide.
The crystal’s energy collided with his own; not violently, but with a force that demanded recognition. It refuelled him instantly, flooding his veins with vitality, igniting something deep and ancient inside him.
“What is it?” Short snapped, already scanning the trees. The others jolted upright, hands flying to weapons.
Rain didn’t answer. He stared at the crystal in awe.
He felt… awake. As if he’d slept eight hours and downed a gallon of coffee. His limbs tingled. His mind sharpened. His senses expanded.
He had never been close enough to a source crystal to feel its true effects. His father’s leash had kept him and Snow confined to Blue territory their entire lives. The Green Palace had been the furthest he’d ever travelled and only briefly.
He had never experienced the weakening of power that other aetherials described.
And now he knew he never would.
The blood in his veins synced to the crystal’s natural vibration; foreign yet comforting. It reminded him of the subtle hum of life in Red territory… only stronger. Purified. Raw.
“Is everything okay, Your Highness?” Short asked, voice tight with confusion.
Rain blinked up at them, suddenly aware of their alarm.
“Oh, sorry. At ease. Everything’s fine.”
He slipped the stone back into its pouch. “My powers glitched for a second. Caught me off guard.”
They watched him carefully, brows furrowed, too exhausted to question further.
“Is that something we should be worried about?” Hamish asked.
“No. I feel great.” They all stared at him in response, their energies frayed and depleted. “I wish I could say the same for all of you. Sit down.”
They obeyed.
“We need to reconsider our strategy. It doesn’t make sense to risk exposing ourselves while you’re all in this condition. We have the advantage; no one knows we’re here, and everyone’s attention is on the southern front. You need more rest. Let’s set up camp.”
“That isn’t an option,” Renn argued. “Once the sun comes up, we’ll struggle more than we are now.”
“Are we forgetting there’s no pit stop at the end of this?
” Rain countered. “Once I’m out of that tower, we’re seven hours from Grey territory.
By then, we may have alerted them to our presence.
We’ll have a captive; possibly deadweight.
We don’t know if she’ll come willingly or if we’ll be carrying her across a hell-path of desert.
And we’ll be retracing our steps in blistering heat.
That seven hours could easily become twelve. ”
“Damn it… you’re right,” Renn muttered, mind racing. “New plan: we wait, we rest, we scout and then we hit the tower a couple hours before sundown. Enough light to complete the mission, enough darkness to travel back.”
Relief washed through the squad; all except Short.
“That goes against direct orders,” she said sharply. “The king requested we finish this in a timely manner.”
“My father doesn’t understand what it’s like in the field. I’m not risking our lives for the desires of a mad king.”
“He may be your father, but he is our command. And respectfully, our king.”
“I hate to pull rank,” Rain said, voice low, “but out here, I am the command.”
Short’s jaw clenched.
“Alright then. You heard your orders. Let’s get comfortable.”
Her tone was clipped; tiredness fraying her discipline, but she obeyed.
“We’re going to have to take out all fifteen guardians,” Vass announced.
They were concealed beneath fruit trees bordering the perimeter. The orchard framed a rectangular plot of barren earth, at the centre of which stood three rust-red cylindrical towers. At the base of each tower were five small huts; likely the guardians’ quarters.
“I can maybe take out ten from here,” Rain said, eyes narrowed. “But even then, the remaining five will be alerted.”
He had already scanned the towers. Four aetherial signatures pulsed inside; all females. One extremely young, Navy’s age. Children. Not criminals.
The oldest signature; the one he was meant to retrieve, felt older than the others, but still younger than him.
He forced himself not to dwell on it. First, he needed to get inside.
“If you take the ten on the left, I’ll take the five on the right,” Glass said, lifting her rifle.
“I’d like to limit fatalities.”
Glass scoffed.
“Shall we walk up and ask for a cup of tea?”
“She’s right, Royale,” Hamish said. “We’re not getting close without casualties.”
“If we kill them all, we will have to rescue four prisoners,” Rain warned. “There are young children in that one.” He pointed to the third tower.
“Bloody hell, we can’t travel with kids,” Vass muttered.
Rain suspected they’d have no choice.
“Can we kill ten and knock out five?” Glass suggested, her energy practically vibrating with blood-lust.
Rain sighed. He would never grow accustomed to the feeling of death. But if they were doing this, they needed to move.
“I’m sick of standing around. Captain, you’re with me.”
Short nodded, tossing fruit peel aside and rising to her feet.
“We’re going to walk in from the southwestern corner. They’ll see us; that’s the point. We want them to react. We are the distraction. The bait.”
He turned to Glass.