Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Seraphina
The wind whipped her heavy curls. The ground trembled.
A chasm opened, extending as far as the eye could see, wide and deep.
The ravine went down to the core of Eraphon, and Nora dangled high above it, wrapped in shadow and black flame, shrieking in silence.
One second, she was there; the next, she was swallowed whole.
Down, down, down she went.
“Seraphina.”
Her name carried on the wind. The demon, in all black with glowing red eyes, appeared and called to her by name.
“Sera, wake up.”
Her eyes snapped open. A thud was followed by pain. Sera grabbed the side of her head, cursing the warlock. Alistair held his cheek and sat in the dirt, staring at her, dumbfounded.
“Moons, you have a hard head,” he said as the white healing of his magic zapped into his skin, leaving behind a raised red welt.
Sera stood, frantic, searching for her sister and the chasm.
But there was nothing. No Nora, no demon, just Al.
It had all been so real. Such terror etched into the lines of her little sister’s face.
She supposed that was the consequence of taking a smaller dose of her sleeping elixir, but she only had three, and who knew how long this mission would last?
“Morning to you too.” She pressed her fingers into the side of her head and winced. As if she wouldn’t have woken with a headache after their argument last night, she had to awaken to being smashed on the skull. The spot was already tender and would bruise before long.
“Come here,” Alistair said. He held out his large gloved hand. She grabbed it and yanked to get his hulking frame to his feet. “That’s not what I meant, but thank you.”
Sera focused on him, confused and disoriented from waking in pain.
Before she could object, Alistair reached for her and settled his gloved palm on the side of her head.
His lips were straight, eyes focused on her.
Her skull throbbed for a second longer, until a cool rush overtook the warmth of blood that had traveled to her scalp.
She held on to him and leaned into his palm, much like a cat begging for attention.
It felt amazing. “That healing power is pretty useful,” she said, gazing up at him.
Her insides melted. Alistair had a flush across his cheeks, his eyebrows raised high, those full lips parted.
A second later, he dropped his hand and cleared his throat.
“It—uh, it’s useful when you’re on the road.”
Sera couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she turned away to rummage through her pack. Somehow, throughout their journey, her chocolate tart had remained relatively intact. She unwrapped the cloth napkin and slid the confection into her hand just as Al offered her a piece of jerky.
“You brought a pastry?”
She took the jerky from him and placed it in the napkin to save for later.
“I’m not sharing,” she said before taking a giant bite, and followed Alistair into the forest.
Sera didn’t quite know how to move on from their argument the night before.
Tensions from the demon, worries over her sister, and heartbreak for Al: It was all a convoluted mess.
She supposed she should apologize, but Alistair had said things that burrowed under her skin.
Call her stubborn, fine, but her sister had been captured, and what sliver of hope she had was fading rapidly day by day.
Nausea surged, but Sera forced down another bite of chocolate pastry. She needed this mission to be over as soon as possible. She needed to save Nora.
“The ruins that line the Deadlands—do you know how many there are?” she asked.
“Do you always talk with your mouth full?”
Sera took care to step over a fallen log and followed Alistair on a deer path through the forest. “An answer would work just fine, thank you.”
He turned, giving her a look of pure annoyance. Sera shoved the rest of her breakfast into her mouth to keep from smiling. She rather liked irritating the warlock.
“I requested some additional information. There are at least twenty, probably more. I’m waiting on correspondence to come back on names and locations.”
Twenty? Moons, each outpost could be equivalent to a small village. “You think there are more?”
“Bound to be. That’s your theory, then? Doorways and ruins coincide?” Al lifted a branch above his head and motioned for her to go under it. Sera brushed past him. The contact of her shoulder against his chest sent a jolt through her, one she didn’t mind one bit.
“I think the doorways must have been created to get a large number of troops in and out of Gehenna.” Sera gasped when a cold shower of lingering raindrops from the trees above hit her.
She glared at Al but was met with a sly smirk.
“Anyway,” she said, wiping the water from her forehead.
“Gehenna is entirely underground except for its outposts, Ceasefall, and Port Sidnah. They must have tunnels leading to the surface near each area to keep them manned during wartime.”
“Let me go first,” Alistair said, stepping around her. She couldn’t help but notice he was careful not to make any physical contact with her this time.
A whirring sound emanated from deep in the forest.
“Al, what’s that—”
Before she could finish, Al’s hand shot in front of her face. The tip of a dagger punctured brown leather, slicing through Al’s flesh.
“Stit,” Alistair gritted, and an iridescent shield was up before them. The thunking of a dozen knives as they broke against his shield almost overpowered his cursing. Al winced as he yanked the blade from his hand.
Sera stood frozen, the blood drained from her cheeks, her darkness pulsing like a drumbeat through her veins while Alistair healed himself. The world spun, black dots peppered her vision, and in that downward spiral of dangerous power, darkness seethed.
How dare they… her power said.
Sera shook away the voice. Trying to rid herself of the burning and rage building under her skin, she sank her nails deep into her palm. It wasn’t going to be enough this time, even if she drew blood… it wouldn’t be enough, and if it seeped out… if her mist caught an ember of her flame…
Alistair’s eyes were dripping down his chin… the ground, the trees, her… everything was black flames roaring, destroying, killing… Sera bit down on her cheek to keep the images from flashing.
Her magic laughed.
“Crag!” Alistair screamed. The only answer was a hoot of laughter. That was when Sera caught movement between the shadows of the trees. She counted twelve Legion members in total, each one covered in dirt and splatter, but something about the stench made her pause.
That wasn’t mud.
The burning had almost reached her palm then, and when Alistair released his shield, she did the only thing she could think of to make her abomination stop.
Sera picked up one of the daggers by the blade and squeezed. Sweet pain lanced through her palm up her forearm, and the burning rage lingering beneath the surface paused.
“Shit,” she whispered.
“How’d you know it was me?” A warlock trudged into a gap in the trees where sunlight broke through.
His overgrown stubble could nearly be called a beard.
The rest of his head was bald, and like his fellow squad members, his attire was browned and stained, except for the arrangement of daggers strapped across his chest. Those shone with brilliance.
“You’re the only one I know who’d pull that shit,” Alistair seethed.
Hot blood dripped from the cut on Sera’s palm, but finally she was able to breathe, and her abomination slowed its swirling.
Was it so much to ask for a little control?
And when would hurting herself be too much to bear?
Dominick had already noticed what she was doing to herself, and Sera would prefer no one else found out.
There is no control, only acceptance.
“Shut up,” Sera hissed to herself.
“Your recruit should have known better,” Crag said, picking up his dagger from where Alistair had thrown it. “Looks like she can’t even pick up a dagger from the right end.”
Sera huffed, and Alistair whipped around toward her. He cursed while wading through the dense bushes to her side and lowered his voice. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Let me see.” Sera gave up her palm to him, and he pressed his gloved fingers to the wound. His touch was like a gentle breeze on a sweltering day, and she’d be lying if she didn’t think about what that would feel like everywhere. Brushing across her navel, those hands sliding up her thighs.
Alistair’s eyes widened for a second, and Sera couldn’t help but wonder if he had mastria abilities too. She shook the idea away. He surely would have said something by now. Still, she glanced around at the other witches and warlocks in the squad and built that wall around her mind brick by brick.
“She’s not a recruit,” Alistair yelled back at Crag. He searched her face again, his expression questioning if she was all right. Sera could only nod. “She’s not even in the Legion, Crag.”
Alistair charged straight for the squad leader, gripping the warlock by the collar.
One by one, the other members picked up their daggers. A few apologized.
“I didn’t know,” Crag rasped out. “Captain, let me go.”
Al let him fall to the ground.
“You know them?” Finally, her words came forward.
“Unfortunately,” Al said. “Meet the Kader Squad.” He pointed at the witches and warlocks surrounding them.
She felt something scrape against the wall of her mind and directed what magic she had on the barrier around her memories. She scanned the witches and warlocks that surrounded them, trying to figure out which one it was. None of them looked directly at her, though.
“Don’t worry, we won’t bite,” their leader said.
Despite the attempt at reassurance, Sera wasn’t convinced. The Legion members’ movements were too jerky. The hollowness of being on the road for too long had set into each line of their faces, and the ones who did smile had a wide-eyed look about them.