Chapter 7
The sharp, snow-covered ridges of the Skala Mountains loomed no closer even after nearly an entire day of flying toward them. As dusk swallowed light, I banked toward a copse of trees, clinging to a fervent hope that they would guard me from the elements.
I wasn’t close enough to Vaels?r yet. I’d never been to the mountain temple, but I knew its location from the detailed map of the Angel Realm I had memorized. All of the Elessarum knew it by heart; without that knowledge, we would have all been captured and exterminated years ago.
If I could only reach it, I’d find haven, however temporary it might be.
Even the Issaraeth wouldn’t dare desecrate such a holy place.
My shoulders ached as I came to rest, immediately banishing my wings.
Days of fleeing with them left the muscles exhausted.
The reserves of my magic were dangerously low, having danced in the well of my light to fuel each flap of feathers at my back.
I needed to sleep, for that was the only way to restore what I had lost.
Gold flitted through twisted boughs as I spun a slow circle, gaining my bearings. The forest rolled uphill like a slow wave, and through the leaves, I spotted what appeared to be a small stream.
Thirst parched my throat. I hurried over to it, trampling through a few thorny bushes.
A hiss slipped through my teeth as one snagged and tore my thin tights.
“Damn,” I swore as red welled on my otherwise smooth skin.
With a shake of my head, I trudged to the water, finding it bubbling over a tumble of rocks.
It wasn’t nearly deep enough to cup my hands and drink.
With a huff, I stomped higher, seeking its source or a place where the glacial melt thickened. My stomach rumbled with a painful twist.
Surviving had always been hard when a bounty was on my head.
But this? This was a new challenge. I’d always had something or someone.
Now? I was entirely alone. I had no supplies. No bag. No waterskin. No virelthorn.
Tears pricked my eyes. I sniffed, hard, to dispel them. Now was not the time. Not when I needed water, food, and shelter, in that order.
Are Heraphia and Zuriel okay?
The thought of my friends stabbed a dagger between my ribs. I’d left them behind. But what else could I have done?
Curse the Issaraeth and his hunters. I hoped the Goddess saw fit to rob him of his voice entirely one day.
A twig snapped, and I whirled around. White leaped to my fingertips, ready to shield myself against a Command.
Instead, a doe, her ears forward and tense, greeted me.
Air whooshed from my lungs as we regarded each other.
Another crack sounded—smaller, fainter—and from the bramble, a fawn emerged, oblivious to the danger.
The mother stepped protectively in her baby’s direction.
I dropped my magic and turned away from them, conveying that she was safe to race away, that no harm would come to either of them.
My heart pounded against my chest as I waited for further sounds of them leaving.
Slow, steady breaths dragged in and out of my nostrils as I calmed myself.
When I was certain they were far enough away, I picked up their trail. Surely, they’d been coming from a drinking spot?
After two more tears in my leggings, I finally stumbled upon a small pool hugging a rock face. From above, a trickle of water emerged. I nearly wept with relief. Crashing forward, I cupped my hands beneath the fresh flow. Greedy, icy gulps filled my mouth.
“Oh, Sylaira,” the Issaraeth crooned, his voice a velvet rumble rolling in from everywhere around me.
I froze with my hands halfway to my lips.
A shadow cast a spectral black silhouette on the ground to my left.
“There’s my little fugitive,” he said next. “So sweet, even when you run.”
“You’ll never have me!” I shouted, flattening my back against the rough face and calling on my magic.
“We’ll see about that,” he taunted next, my gaze fixed on the jagged outline of his wings. I needed to gauge exactly where he was so I could flee in a different direction.
“You’re mine now, Seer. Come willingly and I’ll make it all easier on you.”
My nails bit into my palms. He shifted, and a white feather fell.
He’s on the rocky outcropping above me!
I sprinted into the trees again, searching for the trail the deer had woven. Yet the panic coursing through my veins made each step feel like I was wading through waist-deep mud.
As I fled, no chasing sounds followed me. I spiraled a rushed circle. Seeking another shadow. A flash of white.
Anything that would indicate the Issaraeth’s position.
There was none.
Chest heaving, I crept forward.
This was his game, wasn’t it? Keeping me afraid. Never letting me rest.
He enjoyed this sick torture. The realization only made fury twist inside me.
The sun had almost set by the time I allowed myself to slow again. With minutes of light remaining, I had to find food, fast. But I couldn’t risk a fire to cook anything.
I inhaled deeply, scouring for the scent of something edible on the breeze. Meanwhile, I scanned the ground for more animal tracks, hoping one set would lead me to food.
Following a promising-looking trail, I spotted a peach-colored fruit between thorny leaves.
My mouth watered at the sight. I leaped for them—not caring how the spikes scraped my skin—and shoved the snowberries between my lips.
The juice exploded against my tongue, nearly making me moan.
Again, I grasped and chewed, my aching stomach relieved with the sweet yet sour tang.
Darkness fell soon after, leaving me still exposed. Hands shaking, I retraced my steps to a semi-sheltered cave. Sinking to my knees, I braced my back against the stone.
Maybe when the moon comes out, I’ll be able to find better shelter.
So I waited, half-hoping for a bright night, half-fearing it would make me easier to find. Exhaustion tugged at my eyes, and I battled against it to keep them open and alert. Each muscle protested as I shifted my weight to a more comfortable position. Already, my rear had gone numb.
It’s going to be a long night.
My head snapped up, the haze of sleep banished in an instant.
Cursing myself for having dozed off, I blinked at the space around me, heart thudding a staccato rhythm.
No yellow irises—or ice-blue—peered at me through the underbrush.
Clouds covered the sky—a blessing and a curse.
I’d be harder to track, but that meant this was my position until morning.
With a groan, I curled on my side, tucking my arms under my head for support. A shiver wracked my frame, though whether it was cold, exhaustion, or terror, I wasn’t sure. Probably all three.
I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to conserve warmth. Yet even in my misery, I knew this was a far better fate than the one I’d left Zuriel and Heraphia to at the hands of the crown. The guilt of my betrayal speared into me once again.
After everything we’d been through, after everything they’d done for me, that was how I repaid them?
I closed my eyes if only to stem the flow of hot shame. Dug my teeth into my bottom lip to smother the sadness that wanted to claw out. Exhaled a shaky breath like that would absolve me of my sins.
For the thousandth time, I found myself questioning the crown and the narrative they spun for the realm.
The Angels and Demons had to fight, the Koron said, because the Goddess wanted their dark magic eradicated.
They worshiped the three Fates, a dark mirror to our Radiant Mother.
The Korona spoke of how the Demons were beastly creatures who would rape and pillage our lands if we allowed it.
Which was why lying with one was the highest in the unholy trinity of irredeemable sins.
To commit one was to curse a bloodline until some distant descendant found absolution.
I’d never met a Demon, but I couldn’t understand how it was possible to speak of other intelligent people in such a way.
Sure, their teeth were sharp, and their ears pointed differently from ours.
Their irises and hair too were different shades from ours.
And unlike our feathered wings, theirs were black and membranous.
But in all other ways, we were the same.
Did superficial differences, did our magic source, did who we chose to worship, truly matter that much?
I didn’t think so.
Neither did the rest of the Elessarum.
Regardless, it was because of the Koron’s desire to eliminate all dissent from the realm that I was in the wilderness, cold and aching. All because I believed in nonviolence.
I cursed him throughout my restless sleep. Cursed the Korona too. Even went so far as to curse the Goddess and the Fates and all the other Gods that might be out there, ruling over other worlds, for their faithful followers’ fervent beliefs.
Until dawn came and a flash of white forced me to my feet.