Chapter 23
“Home sweet home,” Rhodes said from atop his horse.
I stared into the distance, baffled. We had left the Crossroads early that morning and hadn’t stopped since. By the sun’s position, it was nearly midday—yet the dirt path we’d been following ended abruptly in front of us.
Nash nudged his horse past me and continued forward… straight into nothing. Rhodes and Fallon followed without hesitation, leaving me frozen in place. Overhead, the rush of wings made me glance up—Noemi and Lakota soared past, heading in the same direction.
I opened my mouth to question their sanity when a bridge shimmered into existence over a narrow stream, revealing itself the moment Nash’s horse set a hoof upon it.
My jaw went slack.
Fallon and River followed Nash across the bridge, but Rhodes reined in his horse and turned to face me. Tiny purple insects drifted lazily around his head, their bioluminescent glow dancing in the shade, as if welcoming newcomers to their hidden home.
Beyond the stream, the forest unfolded like something from a dream.
Trees towered with radiant bark I couldn’t describe, their leaves painted in shifting shades of violet and sapphire.
The grass gleamed a deep, lush green, made brighter by the stark contrast of the pale, dry terrain on our side of the water.
I glanced left and right. The stream stretched endlessly in both directions, wrapping the strange woodland in a perfect curve—an unbroken, natural barrier.
“The Shadow Glade is warded,” Rhodes explained. “The enchanted garden acts as its shield, only allowing those who already know it exists to step inside.”
“But I—” My voice caught. “I’ve never been here. How can I see it?”
“I guess that’s another mystery for us to solve,” Rhodes said, his voice carrying a quiet promise.
I swore the blue in his right eye shone brighter on this side of the wards. This kind of magic… why was it hidden from the rest of us?
According to our history, our land had only ever known elemental magic.
The four elements—air, earth, fire, and water—were channeled directly from the Mareki Gem.
The arcanist energy that fueled our world was housed in that Gem, supposedly resting somewhere within Mageia.
The founders of Mageia War College had erased the truth about the Gem and its location, passing that secret down through generations.
I wasn’t sure whether War Chief Kalluri even knew about the true Eternal Tomb… I never got the chance to ask.
But then again, would I have?
He never gave me a proper chance to defend myself or prove who I really was. Instead, he pointed his finger at me, letting others cast blame and brand me as the evil lurking in the halls.
So… probably not.
My hands trembled on the reins. When we left the Hollow, Rhodes offered to let me ride with him. I declined.
As a child, I loved caring for horses. Sometimes, we had one or two in our own stables. When we didn’t, we borrowed from a neighbor to help transport goods from our plot. But after the race… I thought I’d never get close to another horse again.
Then Rhodes invited me to the tavern, which meant facing my fear and trusting him to keep me safe on Dahlia.
Choosing to ride my own mount on this journey was another way to face that fear—and, thank the elements, a way to create space between Rhodes and me after I learned of his secret… and the curse.
Hooves clicked against the stone bridge beneath me. The air shifted—a tangible sign we had crossed into the wards of the Shadow Glade. The wind remained brisk, but it seemed to dance around us, as if welcoming us.
Noemi and Lakota soared through the sky above.
“Did you know of this place?” I asked.
“Not until the moment I approached the wards,” Lakota replied. “It felt like… the easing of a forgotten memory. The Shadow Glade is a secret war legion, designed to remain hidden. Its magic fuels the entire ecosystem—this natural world thrives unlike anywhere else I’ve seen.”
“If it’s so incredible, why is it a secret? Why is this one place on our map so…” I searched for the word. “Different from the rest?”
Lakota descended ahead, landing somewhere out of view.
I followed the group through the ethereal forest, struggling to keep my jaw from dropping at its beauty.
The dense canopy cloaked most of the sky, but slivers of sunlight filtered through thick leaves, illuminating soft pastels I couldn’t stop staring at.
Soon, the forest thinned, opening to a small, lively village dotted with clay buildings topped by terracotta roofs.
The population wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t as sparse as Caydean, my hometown.
We passed a building with an open awning showcasing household items. Nearby, a small grocery stood without exterior walls—only a ceiling—as if its owner never feared the rain.
Vibrant fruits and vegetables were spread across wooden tables as people picked through fresh bunches.
The warm scent of cinnamon sugar drifted through the air, hijacking my attention.
An elderly lady pulled a pan of rounded dough from the oven, each loaf with a hollow circle missing from its center.
Her smile brightened when our gazes met.
She wiped flour-dusted hands on her apron, wrapped one of the odd-shaped breads in linen, and approached.
Stretching as high as her short frame allowed, she offered me the sweet treat.
“I’m sorry, I don’t. I don’t have—” My voice shook.
“She won’t take no for an answer,” Nash said at my right. “And she’s the best baker in all the realms. We thank you, Ailis.” He nodded respectfully and winked at me.
I accepted with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
A soft moan escaped as I took a bite of the warm, cinnamon-sugary treat. The bread melted on my tongue, soothing my senses in a way I couldn’t explain.
I didn’t realize I’d been eating with my eyes closed until Nash’s voice pulled me back.
“It’s a dough ring. Good, isn’t it?”
“Mhm,” I mumbled around the last bite.
Nash guided his horse to a hitching post and dismounted. Taking my mare’s reins, he tied them securely while I finished the treat. I didn’t mind the gesture. It gave me a moment to savor this cinnamon-scented joy; the sweet aroma almost took my breath away.
“You should try one for breakfast sometime. Heat it up with your element—hey!”
I quickly dismounted, pressing the towel into Nash’s hands before darting toward the source of the aroma as his voice followed me. Where was that scent coming from…?
I wove politely through a scattered crowd, careful not to be a nuisance during my first hour in the Shadow Glade.
Then I halted in the middle of the street.
Ahead was a tiny shop, half the size of the others.
Its front wall was actually a bar, separating the workspace from stools where customers could sit.
Behind the bar stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with onyx-black hair that danced in the breeze. His leathers clung to every inch of him, and in an instant I remembered how it felt to have his powerful body wrapped around mine.
I didn’t need to see what he was doing to know. The scent in the air, combined with knowing Rhodes… I already understood.
He turned, breaking my daze. His gray-blue eyes widened in surprise—clearly not expecting me. Then they softened with recognition, and he tilted his head, smirking devilishly—his pesky dimple making a teasing appearance.
“It isn’t your favorite mug. But—” His voice dropped as he looked down at the coffee in his hands.
“Thank you.” The words barely escaped.
He showed up.
And he stayed.
Amid all the chaos of the past weeks—all the pain and despair, the uncertainty of everything and everyone around me—he was the light. Guiding me toward safety in the most destructive storm.
A beacon.
The idea cut through my chest like a dull, rusted blade. I fought my body’s reaction, breathing slowly through my nose to stave off the sudden lump in my throat. I forced my hands to steady as I reached for the hot cup in Rhodes’s grasp.
I stepped closer, savoring the aroma of coffee mingled with cashmere sandalwood and vanilla. His fingers brushed mine; I tilted my head up to meet his towering presence. My lips ached to be on his, but I held back. We stood there, silently accepting the moment where our storms might collide.
Then everything crashed against the walls I’d built around myself. I pulled back, taking the mug as his hands hovered midair, unsure whether to let me go. His shoulders slumped—barely noticeable to anyone else, unmistakable to me. My heart crumbled at the sight of him, yearning from a distance.
Rhodes dipped his chin before disappearing into the crowd behind me, and my heart tugged as if it were walking away with him. I averted my gaze, hoping that not watching him leave would pull my heart back into my chest.
Instead, it ran straight into the sight of my evil twin.
Fallon leaned against an archway, arms crossed, no doubt watching what had unfolded. I narrowed my eyes and deflected.
“Why are you still covering your face? Mine’s out in the open.”
Her bored hazel eyes flared for a split second at my snark before she slowly approached, tugging off the balaclava covering the lower half of her face.
“Old habits die hard,” she mumbled, drawing a deep breath of fresh air.
“Have you always had to conceal your identity here?” I asked, curiosity threading my voice.
“Everywhere.”
I paused. “Everywhere?”
She shrugged. “Except the Hollow. That’s the only place I’ve been allowed to show my face.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Let me guess. To protect the mission.”
Her silence said everything. Fallon and I had lived separate lives. But really, had we? While I lived openly, I was always held back, always concealed. My survival depended on blending in, following the rules without room for error. No safety net. No one to catch me if I fell.
When I first learned I had a twin, I imagined Fallon’s life was the opposite of mine—loving parents, a safe home where she could be herself and thrive. I was certain I was the one without a father, and she the one who had him.
But that meant nothing.
Arrow Fitzroy kept her hidden from the world. He didn’t abandon her, but he controlled her just the same. Concealed. What punishment awaited if she slipped, if her identity was revealed to the wrong person?
Did her survival depend on obeying his rules? Was she, too, a player in a game with her hands tied?
Were we both puppets strung along for the sake of some mission?
“Come on. Let’s suit up,” Fallon said, bumping my shoulder hard as she strode past.