38. A Heroic Figure
Chapter thirty-eight
A Heroic Figure
“Are you sure you’re looking at the map right?” I snap, irritation rising in my chest as the dense forest seems to close in around us.
Zander only raises an eyebrow, his face a mask of indifference.
Ash, however, is quick to respond. “I think we know how to read a map,” he says, his voice dripping with that same confidence that makes me want to punch him in the arm just to knock that smug grin off his face.
“Really?” I shoot back, my gaze flicking over the map once more, then out to the endless sea of trees that stretches before us.
“Because it looks like we’re lost.” I gesture out to the towering trees, their gnarled, twisted forms casting long shadows over the path ahead.
The way they reach for the sky, scarred and broken, reflects how I feel inside, a tangled mess of frustration and unease.
“Unless the supply route is in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
Ash glances me over from head to toe, the corners of his lips curling upward with his usual irreverence. “Someone’s in a mood today,” he says, his voice carrying the teasing note that on any other day I would appreciate. “Trouble in paradise?”
I shoot him a look, a sharp, biting glare that could level a lesser Fea. “I don’t want to talk about it. Especially not with you.” My words are a growl, the sharpness of my tone matching the tension coiling within me.
Ash’s smirk falters slightly, but he only shrugs. “Alright, alright. Jeez, just trying to lighten the mood.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “No need to bite my head off.”
I cross my arms, but it doesn’t do anything to settle the restless storm inside me. My body is tense, muscles tight and wound up, and my mind is no better, spinning with thoughts I can’t quiet.
Zander, on the other hand, lets out a sigh, as if the entire exchange bores him. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly unconcerned by the tension hanging in the air. He is always calm, always steady.
While I am too wrapped up in my emotions, Zander is—well, Zander is a force of nature.
“Are we done now?” Zander’s voice is low, almost disinterested, like he’s long since checked out of the conversation.
He glances at Ash, then at me, his eyes flicking over our expressions before he shrugs, as if we are just a couple of kids bickering over nothing.
“We’ve got a mission to focus on.” His tone doesn’t leave room for further discussion.
Zander glances over Ash’s shoulder at the map, his expression blank. “It’s this way.” He gestures for us to follow, his voice calm and steady.
A moment later, he leads us into a clearing that has been packed down by frequent traffic. The ground is hard, the brush trampled and sparse, showing signs of movement, footsteps, hoofprints, the unmistakable signs of something important passing through. It feels too . . . quiet for my liking.
“Okay, great. What’s the plan?” My tone is still sharp, the edge of frustration biting through every word.
Ash, ever the joker, flashes one of his signature grins.
“Someone needs to get laid,” he laughs, as if it is the perfect cure for whatever is bothering me.
But today, his humor falls flat. I’m not in the mood for jokes, not after what happened with Oberon, not after the way he left, walking away without a word of explanation.
I narrow my eyes at Ash, pointing a finger in his direction. “You'd better hope they show up soon, or I’m going to take my frustration out on you,” I warn, my voice low and lethal.
The words hang in the air like a challenge, but neither of them picks up on the real cause of my frustration.
They don’t know the truth, not the whole truth.
I haven’t told them about Oberon and me.
I only told them he left. I am struggling with that, struggling with what it means that he walked away, leaving me behind in the wake of a decision I can’t understand.
I can’t even explain it to myself. What are we anymore? What is he even thinking?
I know Oberon has been struggling. I know he is hurting.
But to push me away, to shut me out like that .
. . I don’t know how to make sense of it.
And the worst part? He isn’t here for us to talk it through, to fix whatever went wrong.
Not when I need him most. If there even is an “us” anymore.
I shove the thought aside, refusing to let it linger.
He is hurting, I tell myself. Maybe, in some twisted way, he thinks he is protecting me by distancing himself. But I can’t let go of him, not after everything we’ve been through. I am not going to let him get rid of me that easily.
Zander’s voice breaks through my thoughts, steady and authoritative. “The plan’s simple,” he says, his gaze scanning the clearing before settling back on us. “We hide, we wait, we attack.”
I roll my eyes and lean against a tree, arms crossed tightly over my chest. “And if they don’t show?” I ask, the doubt creeping into my voice despite myself.
Ash shrugs, his usual cocky confidence on full display. “The info Oberon gave us is good. They’ll show,” he says, as if that is the end of the discussion.
My stomach twists at the mention of his name, and before I can stop myself, the words escape. “Because he’s never wrong?” I snap, my voice colder than I intend.
Zander shoots me a look, his expression slightly more serious now. “Not usually,” he replies, a quiet honesty in his words.
“Great. How reassuring,” I mutter under my breath, my frustration bleeding through once again.
Ash’s gaze flicks to me, noticing the shift in my mood. “Seriously, what has gotten into you today?” he asks, his voice losing its usual playful edge.
“Nothing,” I snap, almost too quickly. Then, realizing how defensive I sound, I add, “I’m perfectly fine.”
Zander raises an eyebrow, his voice dry with amusement. “We can tell.”
I roll my eyes again, pushing off from the tree and pacing slightly, my nerves starting to fray. “I just hope they get here soon so we can get this over with,” I say, the weight of everything hanging on my words, even if I don’t want to admit it.
Ash, still trying to goad me into some kind of reaction, smirks. “I thought you wanted to be here?”
“I did,” I snap, before catching myself. “I mean, I do,” I correct, my voice softening just a fraction.
I let out a deep breath, trying to steady myself, to shove down the whirlwind of emotions that has been controlling me since Oberon left.
But they cling to me, twisting and writhing beneath the surface, demanding to be felt.
I clench my fists, forcing them away, forcing myself to clear my head. I can’t afford to be distracted.
This isn’t Ash’s fault or Zander’s.
They don’t deserve to bear the weight of my frustration, no matter how much I want to lash out, to find some kind of release from the rage inside me. Snapping at them won’t change anything. It won’t bring Oberon back, won’t answer the questions that cling to my mind.
And more than that, I need to be sharp. If my emotions get the better of me, if I’m not at my best when the enemy arrives, it won’t just be me who pays the price.
Ash and Zander are depending on me. If I let myself spiral, if I lose focus, I could get them hurt. Or worse.
I take a seat and steady my breath, clearing my mind. There isn’t anything I can do now but wait. Wait for the supply run, wait for Oberon to return, wait to see how this whole thing plays out.
It is so far out of my control now.
After what feels like hours, the distant rhythm of hoofbeats breaks the silence, a steady drumming against the dirt.
I keep my eyes closed for a moment longer, listening, feeling the vibrations humming through the ground beneath me.
Before I can move, Zander nudges my foot lightly with the toe of his boot.
My eyes snap open, locking onto his. He doesn’t say a word, just holds a finger to his lips in a silent command before gesturing for me to move deeper into the woods. Ash is already ahead of us, slipping into the shadows with practiced ease, his movements silent and controlled.
The hoofbeats grow louder, accompanied by the low murmur of voices drifting through the stillness of the forest. The sound curls around the trees, breaking the eerie quiet that settles over us.
I can make out fragments of conversation too faint to decipher, but enough to know they aren’t alone.
Heart pounding, I melt into the cover of the trees, every muscle coiled and ready. The waiting is over.
The moment the soldiers break into the clearing, we strike.
Zander is the first to move, vanishing from his position and reappearing behind the closest soldier, his blade flashing in the dim light.
Ash follows a breath later, his power crashing down like an unseen weight, forcing several enemies to their knees. I feel my own energy surge through my veins, ready to strike until one of them moves differently.
A soldier in dark armor strides forward unfazed, his steps steady even under Ash’s crushing force. I barely have time to process it before he lifts a hand, fingers curling into a fist.
A pulse of magic erupts from him, and suddenly, the air around us shifts, twisting, pressing. It isn’t an explosion, and it isn’t a direct attack. It’s the sensation of the ground itself rejecting us.
I stagger back, my balance thrown off as the world seems to lurch beneath me. What is this? Some kind of spatial warping? A resistance field? It is like the very air fights against my movements, as if the space around us has thickened.
Ash grits his teeth and pushes against the force, but his power falters, his gravity unable to take hold the way it should.
Zander adjusts quickly, launching into the fight without hesitation, his blade meeting steel as he clashes with two soldiers at once.
I hesitate.
For just a second, my mind isn’t in the battle. It is still tangled in everything that happened before this moment.
And that second costs us.
The soldier’s hand jerks toward Ash, and the space around him buckles.