Chapter 26 #2
As they reached the door, the haze she often felt around Fenn lifted as her mind shifted back to business. Fenn’s fingers hesitated along the back of her arm as he passed, the brief touch sending a shiver down her spine before he moved ahead to the table.
It’d be nice not to have to hide everything. She exhaled, then followed him to the table.
Inside, the restaurant was alive with the sounds of clinking bowls, the sharp clatter of knifes, and the steady hum of conversation.
Their table was already scattered with dishes, some half-eaten, others stacked high with steaming food.
Bran sat in the middle, grinning as he tore into a piece of grilled meat, while Taren and Elara exchanged playful jabs, their forks darting across the table as if it were a battlefield.
Plates slid back and forth between them, each trying to claim more than their fair share.
“I’m going to have to sell my quarters.” Fenn sank into his seat with a weary shake of his head.
“What?!” Bran blurted, his words muffled by the food stuffed in his mouth, bits of cheese nearly falling out as he stared at Fenn.
“You all take advantage of your poor Unit Leader,” Fenn said, eye crinkling with mock exasperation as he plucked a piece of venison from a shared platter.
He casually dropped it into his bowl and began to eat, maintaining his usual trick of somehow keeping his face hidden behind his mask, his movements smooth and practiced.
Across the table, Elara’s eyes widened, looking genuinely hurt. “I’ll chip in, Guide Fenn. My healer’s stipend has just been sitting around anyway.”
“Wait, what?” Bran spluttered, still chewing, his jaw hanging open. “You get paid to train?”
“Seems unfair.” Taren grabbed another skewer of grilled meat and popped it into his mouth.
Elara leaned back, taking a long sip of water before shooting a grin at Rynna. “Healing is hard work. Why is everyone so jealous around here?”
Fenn finished his bowl quickly, eyes flicking over the group as they continued their usual banter, plates banging as the lively exchange bounced around the table. He wiped his hands and then cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the chatter.
“I’m sure you’ve all heard of the Ascension.” His tone changed.
All of them straightened, the lighthearted mood vanishing instantly as they turned their focus to him.
“The Clash of Chaos?” Taren chimed in. “Has it really been four years since the last one?”
“It has!” Bran's fist slammed onto the table. “And we’re eligible, aren’t we? Oh, Great Elementals. We’re going to be in the Ascension! The battle royal! The greatest of tournaments! A true test of Ember Reach’s strength!” His voice rose with excitement, already lost in his own imagined glory.
As Bran continued rambling, Rynna glanced at Fenn. “What is it?”
“What is it?!” Bran practically yelled, jaw slack. “You don’t know? How is that possible!?”
Fenn turned to her as well, curiosity flickering in his eyes. Rynna just shrugged, grabbing another piece of meat from the table. “I must’ve arrived in Ember Reach after the last one.”
“It’s not just a competition for Ember Reach.
It’s a time-honored tradition, a grand display of strength and skill that draws Hollow-born from every Reach to test their mettle.
Victory in the tournament brings not only personal glory but honor to one’s entire Reach,” he said.
“It’s surprising you haven’t heard of it. ”
“I guess it wasn’t a big deal where I grew up,” Rynna said casually, chewing on her food.
“And where was that? Under a rock?” Elara poked her in the arm with a fork.
“It wasn’t a typical village.” Rynna rubbed her shoulder.
Taren looked like he wanted to ask more, his mouth half-open, but Fenn cut in before he could. “Do you all want to spend the evening dissecting Rynna’s barbarian upbringing, or should we talk about whether each of you will be participating?”
“We are participating!” Bran leaped out of his chair, fist-pumping into the air. “Hell yeah!”
Rynna mouthed a quick thank you to Fenn once all eyes had turned back to him and away from her. He gave a slight nod in response before continuing.
“I haven’t made my decision yet on whether to enroll any of you, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“What? Why?!” Bran nearly toppled out of his chair, his arms flailing as he caught himself on the edge of the table. Elara, unfazed, raised her hand casually.
“It’s a pass for me, Guide.”
“What?!” Bran’s head snapped toward her, incredulous. “It’s our chance to show everyone what we can do!”
Poor kid’s still desperate to prove himself, Rynna thought, watching the back-and-forth.
Elara leaned back, crossing her arms. “I’ve been doing more healing than fighting lately. I’m not interested in a blood sport, and I’d probably spend the whole time patching you idiots up anyway.”
Fenn nodded. “I thought you might say that. It’s a wise decision. The Ascension isn’t for everyone. I didn’t participate myself.”
Rynna’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t?” She leaned in, curious. He’d only recently started opening up about the deeper things, but he never said much about his earlier years.
“He was already operating as a Vessel during both of the Ascension tournaments he could’ve entered. Top secret missions.” Taren’s tone clearly showed his disapproval.
Rynna’s brows knit. That was code for assassinations, rogue hunting, and the most dangerous, covert missions, but mostly for assassinations.
“Ember Reach wouldn’t have wanted his skills exposed so publicly,” the boy added.
Rynna’s stomach twisted. They sent a child, maybe as young as twelve, on assassination missions?
She had always known the training was designed to turn them into soldiers and killers, even if they dressed it up as something more noble and called them Hollow-born. But this? This was so much worse. Her eyes flicked to Fenn, trying to read his reaction. No wonder he doesn’t talk about it.
“Taren is correct,” Fenn said, his gaze deliberately avoiding hers.
“The Ascension is about showcasing strength among the Reaches, but no one reveals their full hand. Besides, it’s generally considered bad form for a Vessel to compete.
The twenty-year age limit keeps it mostly focused on Novice and Awakened levels, making it less. ..lethal.”
“So, it’ll be me, Taren, and Rynna then.” Bran cracked his knuckles like he was already gearing up for the fight.
“Hold on.” Fenn raised a hand, his tone firm. “I haven’t decided yet. Most of you would qualify for the next one, too.”
Taren leaned forward, his eyes sharp. “We should do it, Guide Fenn. I, for one, would like to test how far I’ve come against Hollow-born with different training styles.”
“And I’d like to kick those other Hollow-born’s butts!” Bran bared his teeth.
Rynna winced. An all-out fight like this so-called battle royal would push Bran to his limits and likely beyond.
His control over the enormous and unpredictable elemental power inside him was tenuous at best. The last thing they needed was for him to lose control in front of the entire Hollow-born world. This tournament could be a disaster.
Rynna’s mind flashed back to Fallowmere when he had lost control and obliterated the villain Cain in a fiery display of power before collapsing unconscious.
Since then, both she and Fenn had worked with him extensively, trying to help him harness the power, but it remained largely wild.
It was as though the fire had a will of its own, surfacing with dangerous intensity when pushed too far.
Fenn tapped his finger on the table, then let out a slow exhale. “I will allow you to participate, Bran.”
“Yes!” Bran pumped a fist, his face lighting up.
“But—” Fenn raised a hand, his tone firm. “You must promise me you won’t use the fire element during the course of the battle.”
“Huh?” Bran’s excitement deflated. “But that’s my most powerful attack.”
“It’s also the one you have the least control over,” Fenn reminded him. “It should only be used in life-or-death situations. And while deaths aren’t unheard of in the Ascension, they are heavily frowned upon and would reflect poorly on the Reach responsible.”
Bran frowned, pursing his lips. “What if it happens by accident?”
Fenn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You must not let it. Consider it a test of your discipline.”
Bran exhaled sharply, then nodded. “Fine. I promise.”
“All right.” Fenn shifted his gaze to Rynna. “And what about you? What will you do?”
She studied him for a moment, trying to read what he might be expecting from her in this situation.
After a pause, she shrugged. Could be fun.
With a sudden grin, she snaked her arm out, locking Bran in a headlock and rubbing her fist into his hair, giving him a noogie while he struggled beneath her grip.
“Don’t worry, boss,” she said, her tone light. “I’ll watch out for both of them. Make sure they don’t do anything too stupid.”
“Very well.” Fenn rolled his eyes as Bran finally wriggled free from her hold, straightening his hair with exaggerated annoyance.
Rynna stood, then, draining the last of her tankard and setting the cup back down on the table with a soft clink. “Thanks for dinner.” She flashed Fenn a small salute. “I’ll see you all in the morning. Just going to take a post-dinner stroll before bed.”
Her eyes lingered on the Unit Leader for a beat longer than necessary as she turned to leave, and the rest of the team slipped back into their usual, comfortable conversation, already halfway into another debate. She knew they’d keep going until the restaurant staff finally kicked them out.
“Check, please,” she heard Fenn call to a server just before she shut the door behind her, leaving the lively noise of the room behind.
The quiet of the night greeted her, cool air settling around her as she stepped into the peaceful calm outside.