18. Challenge Accepted
Chapter eighteen
Challenge Accepted
The next morning, when I step out of the small room, I nearly stumble when I see Ash waiting for me in the hall. Relief washes over me that it isn’t Oberon.
After last night, I’m not sure I am ready to face him. The moments we shared . . . the emotions, raw and undeniable. He saw me. All of me.
I didn’t want that. Didn’t want anyone to see me like that: broken, alone, desperately trying to gather the shattered pieces of myself.
Oberon’s fierce, primal fury at what was done to me .
. . The way he held me until the weight didn’t feel so suffocating.
“Let me hold it with you,” he said, the words echoing through my mind.
My chest tightens at the memory. My eyes burn, but I force the feeling down, burying it deep where it can’t touch me.
“Good morning, Ash,” my voice cracks, still raw from the night before.
“Is it?” he replies, arching an eyebrow.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, we’re doing that today?” Ash grins. “Pretending you didn’t wake the entire tavern screaming like a damned banshee? Fine. I’ll play along.” He stretches, looking far too pleased with himself. “Truly, I feel so refreshed after such a peaceful night’s sleep. Don’t you?”
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “What do you want, Ash? Why are you at my door?”
Ash sighs dramatically. “I was waiting for you. Obviously.”
I narrow my eyes. “Where’s Oberon?”
“Up before the sun. Off to meet his ‘guy.’” He makes air quotes, smirking. “Apparently, there’s trouble. Had to run off and take care of it. So, it’s just you and me today, sunshine.”
I frown. “What kind of trouble?”
Ash scratches his jaw. “Didn’t get all the details. We’re meeting up with him tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? For what?”
“There’s a meeting. With all the leaders of the like-minded kind.”
Like-minded kind? Sounds like code for rebels. We are meeting with the rebellion leaders. Tomorrow.
“How does Oberon manage it?” I ask quietly, before I can stop myself. “How does he balance being with us and pretending to serve the King? I don’t understand how he’s able to keep them from finding out. The King doesn’t suspect?”
Ash’s expression shifts, just for a second.
It is subtle, but I catch it, the flicker of something buried deep, maybe the weight of too many secrets.
“He’s good at what he does,” Ash says, shrugging with that practiced ease he wears like armor.
“When he’s with the King, he’s convincing.
The King’s paranoid, he’s always watching for betrayal, always assuming someone’s plotting behind his back.
But not Oberon. Not his heir. He doesn’t suspect him.
” Ash leans in slightly, voice dropping lower.
“He thinks Oberon’s out there collecting information on his behalf, checking in with the outposts, keeping the rebellion in check. That’s the cover. And it works. Oberon plays both sides like a game of chess . . . and the King’s none the wiser.”
I mull over his words, feeling a strange knot twist in my stomach.
It is hard to reconcile the Oberon I know, the one who has been my confidant, who has comforted me in my darkest hours, with the one playing a dangerous game at the King’s side.
“Is he really as good as you say?” I can’t help but ask, my voice barely a whisper.
Ash chuckles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Better. He’s been doing this a long time, Lyra. He’s mastered it.”
I nod, my mind racing with the possibilities, but I shake away the thoughts. “So, what are we supposed to do today?” I snap, sharper than I intend. “Wait around for Oberon?”
Ash’s signature sly grin stretches across his face. “Nope. Today, we’re training your magic.” His grin widens at my stunned expression. “I know a spot. We’ll head there after breakfast. I’m starving.”
“Where is this spot?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Don’t worry. No jumping today,” he replies with a wink.
And that is all he gives me. With another grin, Ash turns on his heel and heads down the narrow hallway toward the stairs. Reluctantly, I follow.
The main tavern is quiet, the smell of stale ale still clinging to the air. A small plate of pastries rests on the bar. Without missing a beat, Ash grabs a couple, stuffing them into his bag. He shoves one into his mouth, then casually tosses another my way. “Let’s go,” he says between bites.
I catch the pastry with a sigh, trailing after him.
We slip through the alley back to the main road. The town looks different in the morning, eerily still, shrouded in fog so thick it blurs the edges of the buildings. The already quiet town feels abandoned. Most shop signs still read closed, and there isn’t a soul in sight.
Guess they’re not morning people.
I have to quicken my pace to keep up with Ash’s long strides.
The town gradually disappears behind us, swallowed by the lingering mist. The cobblestone road turns into a hard-packed dirt path before Ash veers onto a narrow trail leading into the forest.
This forest is nothing like the one I crossed on the mountain.
The trees here look angry, twisted, their trunks marred by deep wounds.
No leaves soften their branches. They stand tall and bare as though locked in silent agony.
Fog curls along the forest floor, winding between roots and rocks, adding to the stillness.
A chill crawls up my spine.
I stick close to Ash. We are alone, but I can’t shake the feeling that something unseen watches from the shadows.
Eventually, the oppressive forest breaks open at the banks of a river. The sight takes my breath away.
The river is alive. Its waters rush and swirl with a grace untouched by the decay of the world around it. I’ve seen rivers before, of course. But it has been so long since I have been this close, it feels different. Beautiful. Free. As if it still remembers a time before the land started to bleed.
Ash drops his bag against the base of a tree. “This looks as good a place as any,” he says, stretching.
I cross my arms, raising a skeptical brow. “And what exactly am I supposed to do here? I can barely use my magic for the most menial tasks. I don’t see any candles that need lighting.”
Ash glances around the clearing, then back at me with a smirk. “We’re not out here for you to light candles, Lyra. We’re here to find your lost magic.”
I scowl, taking in my surroundings. “I don't think this is where I left it,” I joke, forcing a lightness into my tone. Then, with a hint of exasperation, I add, “How is being in the middle of nowhere supposed to help me?”
He lets out a low, amused laugh, the sound rolling off his lips. “What’s your specialty, anyway?” Ash asks, changing the subject and glancing at me with curiosity.
“Why would I tell you that?” I shoot back, folding my arms. I knew the question would come up eventually, but I’m not about to give him that answer, not until I have to.
Ash smirks. “You know what ours are. Seems only fair we get to know yours.” He pauses, then adds with a shrug, “Plus, it’d make my job a hell of a lot easier if I knew what I was working with.”
I give him a flat look. “If you help me access it, then I guess you’ll find out.”
Ash laughs, the sound light and easy. “You’re really not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
I don’t bother responding. Just grunt and cross my arms tighter.
Ash straightens, brushing off his coat like he is preparing for something serious. “Fine. Challenge accepted.” His grin returns. “Have a seat on the ground. Cross your legs. Close your eyes.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He nods, expression deadpan. “Looks like you’re just going to have to trust your teacher this time.”
He chuckles softly, and though I roll my eyes, I lower myself to the ground. My legs crossed, eyes closed. “Now what?” I ask, skeptical.
“Simple,” Ash says, as if it is simple. “Clear your mind. Feel for your magic.”
I crack one eye open to glare at him. “You want me to meditate the magic out of me?”
“To put it plainly, yes.” His lips twitch with amusement. “If you can still your mind, you’ll feel the tug of your power. Follow that pull, and you’ll find your magic.”
He gives a casual shrug, as if it is the easiest thing in the world.
Quieting my mind is going to be a battle in itself. For so long, it has been my only company. Even when I don’t always agree with my own thoughts, they keep me distracted from reality.
But I do as Ash instructs, or at least, I try.
I sit there for what feels like an eternity, wrestling with the chaos in my head. The thoughts keep coming: memories, images, voices. I have no control over the flood, no matter how hard I try.
Damn it.
Finally, I snap, eyes flying open. “This isn’t working! It’s a stupid exercise anyway!”
Ash doesn’t look the least bit fazed. In fact, he smiles.
“If it were going to be easy, you wouldn’t need me now, would you?
” he says smoothly. “Try this: count to a hundred. Focus only on your current number. No other thoughts. If you get distracted, if a single thought breaks through your focus, start over from one.”
He leans back against a tree, as casual as ever.
“Once you reach a hundred, let the numbers fade. Sit in the stillness of your mind. In that silence, see if you can sense your magic calling to you.”
I shoot him a glare but obey, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep breath.
One . . . two . . . three—Oberon telling me, “I will kill them.”
Shit.
One . . . two . . . three—My brother Griffin's voice, his face. “Come, little one, I will show you how.”
Damn it.
One . . . two . . . three—My Mother's voice singing softly to me,
“Close your eyes, my little star.
Dream of lands both near and far.
Let the wind sing soft and sweet.
Feel the earth beneath your feet.”
I start humming along before realizing I have been lost in the memory.
Ugh. Focus.
It feels impossible. But I don’t give up. I sit there, silent, restarting the count over and over. Sometimes I make it a little further. Sometimes I barely get past three.
Thirty-three. That is my record before—CRUNCH.