Chapter 10 #3
The pain burns, sharp and shallow. But I know, if this weren’t training . . . if this were real—that strike would’ve opened me from shoulder to spine.
Three down. Two left.
They rush me together—fast, flanking, coordinated. There’s no time to swing or dodge. I drop my sword and slam both palms to the ground, feeling the earth—solid, steady, waiting.
Rise, I command with my will; the ground answers.
A tremor cracks beneath me as two jagged pillars of stone explode upward beneath the Fellborn. They’re lifted—thrown—bodies twisting midair. And then I bring my hands down. Hard. The earth follows.
The pillars crash back into the ground like a hammer to an anvil—crushing the creatures between stone and soil. The impact shakes through my bones, dust and black mist erupting around me.
When it clears, there’s nothing left but cracked earth and silence. I don’t even realize I’m still in the stance until I feel the tremble in my legs.
“Stop!” Thane calls out. The word cuts through the field like a blade.
I turn my head, breath ragged, muscles tight, just in time to see him grip Valen’s arm firmly. Valen was mid-motion, fingers already starting to conjure another wraith.
Thane jogs out onto the field. It takes him a few seconds to reach me—long enough for doubt to creep in.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask as soon as he’s in front of me.
His eyes scan mine—sharp, assessing. He doesn’t answer right away, instead, placing his hands gently on my shoulders turning me around.
I wince as I feel his fingers brush against my back—tracing the claw marks where the Fellborn tore through the leather, my skin grazed raw.
Then his voice—low, steady, softer than I expect. “Are you okay?”
I glance over my shoulder at him, catching the expression on his face—his brows drawn, a slight grimace tugging at his mouth as he studies the damage.
“Wait . . . so I didn’t do anything wrong?” I ask again.
I’m so used to corrections. Coaching. Instruction.
. . . adjust, more control there . . . move over . . .
I’m still looking over my shoulder when I catch it—the faintest twitch at the corner of Thane’s mouth. Almost a smile.
He straightens, letting his hands fall away, and I turn to face him fully.
“No, Amara,” he says, voice low but certain. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
There’s a pause. Just long enough for the tension to ease.
“Is that what you think of me?” His brow arches, just slightly. “You think I only show up to bark instructions?”
I look at him, a little sheepish. “Um . . . yes?”
Thane laughs. A deep, rumbling sound that rolls out of him and carries across the field like distant thunder.
My eyes widen. I honestly don’t think I’ve heard the Warlord laugh before.
He looks at me, a glint in his eye. “We’ll have to fix that, then.”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck, flushing warm beneath my collar. His gaze is steady, unrelenting, locking me into place.
Then, softer this time, quieter, “Really though, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I say, brushing it off. “It’s just a scratch.”
Thane doesn’t blink. “It’s more than a scratch,” he says quietly.
Then he steps to the side to assess my back again. His gaze drops to the torn leathers, lips drawing into a thin line.
“The protective enchantments should’ve stopped that,” he mutters, more to himself than me. “They’re meant to leave bruises, not break skin.”
He looks back up at me, something darker flickering in his eyes.
“This shouldn’t have happened.” A pause. “I’ll redo the protection,” he says, his voice low, controlled—but there’s a tightness in it. “I’m so sorry about that. Not just for the scratch, but for letting it happen.”
“It’s okay,” I say, forcing a bit of lightness into my voice. “I’m fine. I mean . . . I am training for war, right?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just stays close, like he’s still trying to convince himself I’m actually alright.
And that’s when it clicks.
The look in his eyes. The tension in his jaw. The way he studied the wound like it meant something. It’s . . . more emotion than I’ve ever seen from him.
He feels guilty.
And for some reason, it throws me off.
But just like that, it’s over.
Thane nods once, giving me a tight smile, then turns and jogs back toward Valen. I watch as he lifts his hands, fingers moving with practiced precision—already reinforcing the protection spells.
Valen moves his hands.
There’s a sudden snap in the air—a coldness that bites through my leathers and settles deep in my bones.
About thirty feet away stands a behemoth of a creature. A Gorganthe.
Fuuuuck.
An image from one of Valen’s books flashes through my mind—an old sketch, rough and shadowed, showing a Gorganthe in battle.
But no drawing could’ve prepared me for this.
It stands three stories tall, its towering form blotting out the sun. Its body is solid, yet somehow wrong—wrapped in a dark hide that absorbs all light, making it look less like a creature and more like a hole in the world.
Its muscles are thick and gnarled, like twisted cords of stone and sinew. Its arms alone could level a battalion, hands massive enough to crush a man in one grip. Each finger ends in a jagged claw—long, curved, and sharp enough to shred steel like parchment.
Its face is a monstrous parody of something that was once human. Flesh warped, stretched, twisted. Its mouth is a grotesque maw lined with uneven, splintered teeth that gleamed like shards of broken glass.
And its eyes—gods. Hollow voids. Deep wells of writhing darkness. But I know from the books I studied that if you dare to look long enough . . . there’s movement there. Figures flicker in and out of existence. Souls. Trapped within the black—screaming, struggling, but never escaping.
My blood runs cold as Valen’s warning flashes through my mind: Don’t let it get close enough to catch your eyes. The souls trapped inside will lock you in place—and the Gorganthe will crush you before you even think to move.
I know this is just training. I know Valen is controlling it. But this . . . this monster towering over me feels too real.
The Gorganthe roars. The sound tears through the air like a rift—louder than thunder, deeper than anything I’ve ever heard. But it’s not just one voice. It’s a chorus. Crying out in anguish. In rage. In torment that has no end.
It’s the sound of every soul it has consumed.
Thane yells something to Valen—something about this being too much, too soon. I don’t catch all of it because I’m frozen.
Feet rooted to the earth.
Muscles locked.
Breath shallow.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear them arguing—my mentor, my trainer—voices rising, clashing, but it all feels far away. Muffled, like I’m underwater.
All I can see is the Gorganthe. The sheer size of it pressing down on me like gravity—like I’m about to be crushed.
My brain keeps saying this is just training. But to my body, it doesn’t feel like training.
The Gorganthe starts to move, its legs like pillars—strong enough to carry the weight of destruction. Every step makes the ground tremble, cracks spidering out from beneath its feet.
“Amara!” Thane’s voice cuts through the haze. “Move! Fight!”
Thane’s voice snaps me back into my body. Fight. Strike. Block. Again. The repetition of training, of drills shouted over sweat and bruises, crash into me all at once.
And just like that—I move.
My palms slam the ground and pull for the Element that’s been part of me since birth. The earth answers—rising up on either side of me like giant hands. Massive, taller even than the Gorganthe itself. Stone and soil surge skyward, groaning as they grind against one another.
The ground trembles beneath me, but I don’t falter. I don’t wait for the monster to strike first—I bring the fight to it.
I thrust my hands forward and the massive walls of earth slide toward the Gorganthe, grinding across the ground.
The Gorganthe lets loose a deafening roar as the stone closes in on it. I slam my hands together—fingers locking, arms shaking with effort.
With a deafening crack, the two massive slabs crash inward from either side, slamming into the monster with the force of a collapsing mountain. Dust and debris explode into the air. The ground shakes. And for a breathless moment—everything is silent.
But the Gorganthe breaks free.
With an earsplitting roar, it shatters the stone trap—earth exploding outward in every direction.
In my peripheral vision, I see Thane react instantly—throwing up a wall of fire around himself and Valen. Flames roar to life just as debris slams into it.
I throw up my own shield—air swirling in a tight vortex around me. Chunks of stone and dirt bounce harmlessly off it, the wind howling in my ears.
When the dust clears, the Gorganthe is still standing, but it’s not unscathed. It moves slower now, staggering under its own weight. Black blood oozes from its nose, arms, chest—thick and tar-like, streaking down its hide. Battered and bleeding, but not beaten.
It lumbers towards me and swings a giant hand. Even through the enchantments, the blow launches me off my feet. I slam onto my back, air ripped from my lungs. Spots burst across my vision, the world tilting sideways.
Through the haze, I glimpse Valen holding Thane back at the field’s edge, his palms raised in restraint.
The Gorganthe bellows, a sound that rattles my bones and shakes the ground beneath my back.
Thane’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Get up and fight, Amara!”
I drag myself up, lungs burning, settling into a low crouch. The monster charges.
It lashes out again, claws tearing at the air—but this time I’m ready. I roll under it and spring to my feet behind the monster, sprinting to widen the gap.
It roars in frustration and turns, its reaching hand swiping. I feel the air whip past my arm, the Gorganthe’s claws inches from me.
Just then, heavy drops of rain begin to fall. One. Two. Then all at once.