Chapter 28
Nerves gnaw at my stomach like a trapped rodent eating its way through my innards. I can’t believe it’s already been four months since classes began.
I weave my hair into a loose side braid, instead of my typical straight hair.
I don my basilisk armor and runic leather pants, which recently received an upgrade of lightweight chainmail hidden between the layers of leather around my femoral arteries.
Just in case Chet tries for a low blow again.
It’s not as strong as my basilisk armor, but it will certainly make the area harder to slice through.
Sharp metal blades glint across my body: daggers along my ribs, short swords crisscrossing my spine, and a small, double-edged battle axe buckled on my thigh.
Then I adorn my magical badger-feather cloak; being invisible in a forest teeming with magical beasts for the event seems a clever backup plan in a pinch.
Two knocks sound at the door, one high and one low, telling me it’s Juniper and Fenwick without having to use the shadow magic to see through.
They’re practically champing at the bit; as soon as I step through the door, they grab my arms. Everything’s just a little brighter with them around.
Thankfully, Pip quickly scurries up my arm, carrying the push dagger in his mouth, taking his bracer form.
It’s frivolous to use my magic to shut the door, but the ladies leave me no choice; we’re already halfway down the stairs. The act stirs up memories of Sully.
Don’t use magic if you can do without it. You never know when you’ll need all your power. Nothing worse than burning out because you used your magic to heat a kettle while the hearth is already warm.
I laugh silently at the flashback of him burning his hand on the overheated kettle he forgot to pick up with a mitt.
We gather outside the sacred Mysticwoods to the south of campus.
Its boundaries stretch beyond the Midlands, all the way to the Lowlands, stopping right outside the capital, Riicah.
This is the most well-protected stretch of Mysticwoods in all of Cascara.
Where many magical creatures come to have their young before taking them back to the home territories.
My breath catches on the chromatic sky of flying creatures, casting us in dancing shadows of all shapes and sizes. The earth rumbles my bones as several larger beasts land amongst the towering trees.
Professor Yuri takes the makeshift dais, his auburn highlights catching on rays of sunlight, glimmering through his chestnut hair.
“Congratulations on making it to the Celestial Bonding! Today, the members that make up your potential Chivalry will journey into the Mysticwoods with the hope of coming back to you as Ellian Knights, bonded with a sacred magical creature.” A winning smile paints his face as he continues.
“Remember to listen for their song. When you return, please head to the scribe in the golden cloak so they can record the name and species of the bond. This is taken into account for the Bloodline pairs you will have by next week. Those who do not bond by sunset can see the scribe in the sapphire cloak for reassignment. We will all gather here to watch your bestowal of the untold magical power in the form of an Arcane Glyph.” He adjusts his spectacles as a giant carmine Phoenix lands on the boulder to his left.
“Ah, I see Belenus has come to wish you luck. May the Celestials bless your way!” A cheerful screech bellows from Belenus, beginning the event.
My classmates scurry like mice into the woods. I wait. This is the first time in several months I won’t have an escort. I need to be aware of my surroundings.
Rather be a drag if I died now…
Murderous plans tinker in my head. What an opportune time to get my revenge on Chet. I can scorch the body, and no one will be the wiser.
As I enter the woods, there’s a distant sway on my neck telling me I’m not completely alone after all, but S?las needs to focus and not worry about me.
I close my eyes, opening the starburst window just a crack.
Several velvety black ribbons dance their way in.
I glide my fingers above them, sensing the direction they come from.
I’m tempted to hold them, but even just hovering above them, I can feel the torrent of emotions that ripple off.
Surely, that would be an invasion of privacy I’d never live down.
Furthermore, I’m not sure I can handle what they will reveal.
I coax the ribbons back out the window before shutting it.
I jaunt in the opposite direction I felt the ribbons tugging me in. I shuffle into some overgrown bushes, turning my cloak around so I can blend into my surroundings.
Then I enter my mind, opening the starburst window again, just a peep, so I can listen for any type of song or frequency. There’re many different noises but nothing calling to me.
My eyes widen at a shell lifting off the ground, revealing a slimy, two-legged snail-Faeanoid figure.
“Bugger off. This is my home. Unless you bring little cakes? Only then will I share my bush,” the creature bargains.
“Apologies. I’ll be on my way,” I grumble, rustling out of the bush as the creature lets out a slew of curses behind me.
Leaves rustle to the right of me beneath a strong gust. I smile, hoping it’s someone from my Zenith Chivalry taking flight with their new bond.
I journey deeper into the Mysticwoods. The older trees here have bark that shimmers silver and emerald, spiraling upward to canopies woven together into a vast tapestry of lilac and violet orchids, pierced through by an ethereal dappling of golden sun rays.
A myriad of colorful mosses and lichen blot the forest floor.
I name the colors as I walk: damask, zaffre, celadon, xanadu, gamboge, glaucous, and cyan.
I’m in my element, surrounded by nature.
A diverse range of mushrooms and flowers sprout around the bases of the trees.
Some fluctuating bioluminescent colors of blue, green, magenta, and pink.
The forest is a living, breathing entity of its own, responding to my every movement.
The sweet scent of the cinamellion flowers fill the air as they vine up the trunks in search of sunlight. My feet trail along a babbling brook of glimmering liquid crystal. Several breeds of winged fish leap from the stream, their crystalline bodies disappearing beneath the pastel water.
Whispers dancing on the wind lead me deeper, singing of hidden glades where mystic creatures dwell. The air grows thick with magic, instinct telling me to change course so I don’t trespass on the sacred nesting grounds.
An enormous tree, appearing to have no end, spears up in my path. I reach out, connecting to its life force. The energy of the Mysticwoods pours through my blood. Life and death, birth and growth, serenity and chaos.
Something calls to me. It’s not a melody, like Professor Yuri described.
More akin to a frequency, resonating deep inside of me.
Each step closer syncing more in tune with my heartbeat, beckoning me to forge a bond that transcends the ordinary.
My legs begin to dash towards the frequency, my soul harmonizing with it.
The sound of an all too familiar slithering voice strangles me to a stop. I duck, finding cover behind a tree, as I listen.
“She has to be here somewhere. We’ll find the bitch,” Chet snorts.
“I saw her magic in the Warded Hollow yesterday. She has the power to obliterate us. It’s not worth it, Chet,” the voice of Victus pleads.
“I’m with Victus on this one. She’s terrifying. I’d like to live to graduate,” Draven sighs.
“You’re fucking cowards. She won’t use her magic here. She’d kill us and every other living thing here. It’s too big a risk. You all saw how she had no control over it. She would never live down that massacre.” Venom seeps from Chet’s voice.
“Why don’t we focus on finding our bonded creatures? The song I heard is getting more distant here. You’re becoming obsessed with her. It’s getting kind of skraith,” Brock retorts with a subtle tremble to his voice.
“No. We have to do it today. My mother said this is the smartest move. There is no chance they can pin it on us.”
Chet’s words send a chill slithering down my spine. His mother fucking knows and is helping him plot my death. I really shouldn’t have made such a fool of him, which reflects poorly on her, pinning me within her vicious sight.
“We could wait until she finds her bond and kill the creature before she even has a chance to bond. Then she could never be an Ellian Knight,” Lorgan suggests. That’s a horrible thought, possibly worse than death after all I’ve worked for.
“Too risky. We don’t know what she’ll bond with, and I don’t want to take the chance it’s something hard to kill. We need to stick together. We stand a better chance against her,” Chet replies.
“Chet, there were three of you last time. You poisoned her, slit her femoral artery open, and she still lived. I don’t see how two more of us will suddenly change the odds,” Draven protests.
He’s right; their chances aren’t any better, and now they don’t have the element of surprise like they did last time.
But there were more than three of them—I heard the fourth person’s laugh in the distance.
If it wasn’t one of them, who was it? The subtle feminine lilt to the laugh slashes through my memories.
Frost spreading through my veins in realization of just how involved Commander Bragen has been.
“If you dare leave right now, I will have my mother station you on the worst assignments for the rest of your life. You sniveling vole,” Chet chastises with a hiss.
I guess those threats are how he keeps his so-called friends tolerating his presence.
Maybe when Sully was talking about the rot in the Golden Legion, he was speaking of Commander Bragen and her insufferable spawn.
After all, she did take his place, so she must have been next in line underneath him.
The humming frequency snatches me from my thoughts. They’re right in the path of the calling tune. I can go around, but I don’t want to chance them sneaking up behind me. I have to be strategic.
There’s a chance I can survive a fight against all of them.
I have a feeling Victus and Draven will dart immediately, especially with the way they ran yesterday at dinner.
That leaves me to fight Brock, Lorgan, and Chet.
Even if Chet hits me with his poison, my new ring will dampen the effect.
If I can get one hit in with my paralysis blade, I can take him off the table.
There’s also the fact that I don’t know what Brock and Lorgan’s Celestial Gifts are, which leaves me with two wild cards.
The safest thing will be to go the long way around. Today, I will be smart and do the safer thing.
I start to move silently away from them until I remember how close the power of the sacred nesting grounds are.
Fuck. I wouldn’t put it past Chet to Siphon its magic.
He has a pure evil streak to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if his biological father is actually Wuvon.
Commander Bragen seems like she would have no qualms taking a monster to bed.
I sneak back to where they’re still bickering about which direction to head in next.
Silently, I climb a tree behind them, careful to brace my weight slowly on each branch.
I perch myself like a Bone-Thresher, ready to pounce.
I have a partially mapped-out plan in my head; the rest I’ll figure out on the fly.
Maybe I’m more chaotic than I give myself credit for after all.
My goal is to throw my dagger down at Chet’s neck; being so close to his heart will ensure the paralysis works in one to two heartbeats but missing his carotid artery.
A deep breath fills my lungs; I steady my hand as I hold the blade at its tip. I exhale, slinging the dagger, slicing into my mark just above his collarbone. His echoing howl claws at the air as I leap down, casting my arms out wide, taking Lorgan and Brock to the ground.
Lorgan lands a right hook into my ribs. I swear that male has an obsession with my right ribs at this point. It’s blunted by my basilisk armor and clenched core, but I still gasp from the force.
I move like lightning, pinning Lorgan with my legs before stabbing my short sword through his shoulder into the ground below.
With my now-free hands, I snatch two more daggers along my ribs.
Chet comes timbering down on my back with his only step before the paralysis sets in.
Brock’s still stumbling to get up when I use my other dagger, slitting the back of his calf, which is just in reach as I’m sandwiched between Lorgan and Chet.
“Ow! You fucking witch,” Brock hollers. The slice gives me a sliver of time to wriggle out from under them, a position I hope never to find myself in again.
Lorgan reaches for my leg as I stand up. I twirl, using all my force to jam my boot down on his hand. The satisfying crunch of bones ripples up my leg.
Lorgan screeches in pain. “My fucking hand, you whore!”
I hear footsteps trailing off in the distance—Draven and Victus fleeing, curling my lips into a smug smirk.
But I make the mistake of leaving my back towards Brock, who wraps his arm around my neck in a headlock. I try to break free, but he’s too strong.
I grab the battle axe on my leg, hacking it into the side of his thigh. Brock roars in agony, releasing my neck as he stumbles backwards. I whip around, kicking him in the gut, sending him barreling into a tree. The momentum snaps his head back against the trunk, knocking him out.
To my surprise, Lorgan has pulled my sword out of his shoulder, leaving me with my own blade at my neck.
Son of a bitch…