Crown of Ash and Light, page 30
“Changing this,” I said curtly, not bothering to look at him. “Hold still.”
“It’s fine, Azura,” he muttered, though he didn’t move to stop me. “You don’t have to fuss over me.”
“Yes, I do,” I said firmly, tugging the cloth a little harder than necessary. “And don’t argue.”
Dravon smirked faintly, his good hand brushing a stray leaf off his trousers. “You’re avoiding him, aren’t you?”
I froze for half a second before resuming my work. “No,” I lied, dipping a cloth into the water and pressing it gently against the jagged bite. “I’m making sure you don’t lose an arm to infection.”
“Sure you are,” he drawled, wincing slightly as I dabbed at the wound. “Pretty convenient timing, though, don’t you think?”
“Shut up, Dravon,” I muttered, my voice low.
He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”
I didn’t answer, focusing instead on tying a fresh strip of fabric securely around his arm. The kelpie bite was healing well, but the jagged edges still made my stomach churn when I looked at it too long. I tied the knot a little tighter than I needed to, earning a sharp hiss from Dravon.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he grumbled.
“A little,” I admitted, sitting back on my heels. “Maybe now you’ll stop calling it ‘just a scratch.’”
Dravon flexed his fingers, testing the bandage. “I’ll live,” he said, his smirk returning. “But I don’t think you can keep this up forever.”
“Keep what up?” I asked, feigning ignorance as I packed away the used cloth.
“Using me as a shield,” he said, his voice quieter now. His gaze flicked toward Elias, who was pacing near the edge of the clearing, his eyes darting toward me every few moments. “You’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”
I shook my head, standing abruptly. “No, I don’t.”
“Azura,” Dravon said, his tone softening, “you know he’s not going to drop it.”
“Then he can keep waiting,” I snapped, brushing dirt from my hands. “I’m not talking to him about... that.”
Dravon sighed, leaning back against the tree. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”
“Look who’s talking,” I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended.
Before he could respond, Elias’s voice broke through the clearing. “Azura,” he called, his tone hesitant but insistent.
I turned my back to him, busying myself with adjusting Dravon's scabbard. “I’m busy,” I said loudly, my voice carrying just enough finality to discourage him.
“Azura,” Elias said again, closer this time. His footsteps crunched softly against the forest floor as he approached. “Please. I just want to talk.”
“I don’t have time,” I said sharply, tugging at the straps unnecessarily. “Go talk to someone else.”
“Azura,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “It’s about—”
“I don’t care what it’s about,” I snapped, spinning around to face him. The words tumbled out before I could stop them, laced with frustration. “I’m not talking to you, Elias. Not now, not ever.”
The look on his face stopped me cold. Hurt flashed in his eyes, quickly followed by a flicker of determination. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the book in his hands began to hum.
The sound was low at first, a faint vibration that seemed to pulse in the air around us. Elias froze, his arms tightening around the book as golden light seeped from its edges.
“Not again,” Dravon muttered, rising to his feet and reaching for his weapon.
“It’s glowing,” Elias said, his voice trembling as the hum grew louder. “I can’t stop it!”
“Put it down,” Dravon barked, his tone sharp and commanding.
“I can’t!” Elias shouted, panic lacing his voice as the book forced itself open in his hands. The pages fluttered violently, glowing symbols appearing on the parchment in intricate, shifting patterns.
“What’s happening?” Therynna asked, her tone sharp as she moved closer.
Elias stared down at the glowing text, his wide eyes darting across the page. “I—I don’t know,” he stammered, his tone unconvincing. “It’s just... symbols. I can’t read them.”
“You’re lying,” Dravon said, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re reading it, aren’t you?”
“No!” Elias said quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t know what it says. I swear!”
I exchanged a quick glance with Dravon, unease twisting in my stomach. Elias’s reaction was too deliberate, too rehearsed. The way his lips moved slightly, as though mouthing the words—it was obvious he knew more than he was letting on.
“Close it,” I said, stepping closer. My voice was calm but firm, masking the rising panic. “Now.”
“I—I can’t—”
“Close it!” I snapped, the force of my words cutting through his hesitation.
With trembling hands, Elias forced the book shut. The glow faded instantly, the hum dissipating into silence. He clutched the relic to his chest, his face pale and his breaths uneven.
“What’s in it?” Dravon asked, his tone sharp. “What did you see?”
“I told you—I don’t know,” Elias insisted, his voice defensive. “It’s just symbols. They don’t mean anything.”
I narrowed my eyes, studying him carefully. He was lying— I was certain. But for now, I let it slide.
“We need to move,” Dravon said, his voice hard. “Now.”
As the group began packing their things, I felt Elias’s eyes on me again. His unspoken questions hung in the air, but I didn’t look at him. Instead, I busied myself with Dravon's gear, my heart heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.
THERYNNA
The forest seemed to close in tighter the farther south we moved. The ancient trees stood like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches tangled overhead, casting everything in a gray-green twilight. The ground was soft beneath our boots, blanketed in moss and damp earth. I trailed behind Dravon, my bow in one hand, the other brushing lightly against my quiver as if the touch of the arrows could steady the weight of this place.
Elias stumbled along at the back of the group, clutching the book as though it might shield him from whatever horrors he imagined lurking in the woods. There was a tension throughout the group, but it wasn’t from the forest. It was the secrets we were keeping to ourselves. Dravon, Azura, Stravos, and I had lived here once and had called these trees home. Nothing in this forest would harm us—not while it remembered us. But Elias didn’t know that. Besides I was certain he was hiding something from us too.
“We need to move faster,” Dravon said, his voice low and sharp. He glanced back, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon. “We don’t want to be stuck here when night falls.”
“Do you think we’ll make it out before then?” Elias asked, his voice shaking slightly.
Dravon didn’t answer immediately. “We’ll try,” he said shortly, his tone clipped.
I bit back a smile. Dravon's irritation was genuine, but the rest of it—the tension, the watchful glances—it was all for show. Even Stravos, who loved to crack jokes at the worst times, had fallen silent, his scythe resting against his shoulder in a way that made it seem like he was ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
I, too, played my part. My fingers twitched on my bowstring, and my gaze darted to every shadow, every rustle of the leaves. It wasn’t hard to act; the forest had its own secrets, an unspoken power that could make even the bravest person uneasy. But the truth was, I could feel the earth beneath my feet, its steady pulse beneath the layers of moss and stone. This forest wouldn’t harm us. It still remembered who we were.
Then, the ground began to tremble.
It was subtle at first, a low vibration that tickled the soles of my boots. But it grew quickly, the dirt and moss rippling ahead of us like a wave. Dravon raised a hand, signaling us to stop, his face set in a mask of wary focus.
“What’s happening?” Elias asked, his voice breaking. He clutched the book tighter, his eyes darting to the shifting ground.
“Stay still,” Dravon ordered, his voice firm. “Don’t move.”
The ground ahead of us split open with a low groan, the earth cracking and churning as something rose from below. Dirt and moss fell away like water, revealing a massive creature made entirely of the forest itself. Its body was a hulking mass of twisted roots, vines, and compacted soil, pulsing faintly with a greenish glow. Its limbs ended in jagged claw-like appendages, and its shoulders were crowned with shards of stone that were so smooth they glistened in the dim light. Its head—or what passed for one—was featureless save for two glowing, ice-blue eyes that burned like twin stars.
I tightened my grip on my bow, drawing it just enough to add to the illusion. My heart was steady, though, because I could feel it—the connection between the creature and the earth itself. This thing wasn’t here to harm us. It was a guardian, a reminder of the power this forest held. And it was watching us.
Elias stumbled back, nearly tripping over a root. “What is that?!” he shouted, his voice rising in pitch. “What the hell is that thing?!”
“Don’t move,” Dravon repeated, his hand hovering near his weapon.
The creature tilted its head, its glowing eyes sweeping over us slowly. When its gaze settled on Elias, it lingered. I could feel the weight of its attention, like the forest itself was studying him, measuring his worth. But it didn’t lash out. It didn’t attack. It simply stood there, massive and unmoving.
Finally, with a groaning sound like the creak of an old tree, the creature began to sink back into the ground. The earth closed around it seamlessly, the moss and dirt settling as though nothing had ever disturbed it.
As we stood there pretending to process what we just encountered, the silence was broken only by Elias’s ragged breathing. “We need to get out of here,” he said, his voice trembling. “We need to leave—now!”
I glanced at Dravon, catching the subtle flicker of understanding in his eyes. He knew, just as I did, that the creature wasn’t a threat. But Elias’s fear was real, and it was a useful tool.
“He’s right,” Dravon said, his tone heavy with false conviction. “We can’t stay here.”
Stravos nodded quickly, his scythe shifting in his grip. “Agreed. Let’s move.”
Elias looked at me, his eyes wide and desperate. “Therynna, you saw it,” he said. “You know we’re not safe here.”
I hesitated, pretending to weigh his words. “You’re right,” I said finally, lowering my bow. “We need to go. Now.”
Dravon led the way again, quickening his pace, and the rest of us followed. Elias stayed close to me, his breathing uneven, his hands trembling as they still held firmly onto the book. My siblings continued their act, their weapons ready, their movements rigid ready for a surprise attack. But as I walked, I let my hand brush the trunk of a tree, feeling the pulse of the earth beneath its bark.
The creature had been a warning, but not for us. It had been watching Elias, measuring him. And I couldn’t help but wonder if the forest had already passed its judgment.
When the edge of the woods came into view, Elias let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging with relief. “We’re almost there,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else.
I glanced back at the trees, a pang of longing tugging at my chest. This forest had been our home once, and it still remembered us. But as we stepped into the sunlight, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had left something behind—something we might never get back.
“Let’s keep moving,” Dravon said, his voice steady but firm. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”
I nodded, gripping my bow tightly as we pressed on, the shadows of the forest lingering in my mind like a whispered warning.
The clearing where we’d left our horses felt like a breath of fresh air after the heavy stillness of the forest. The animals stood where we’d tethered them, shifting restlessly as they sensed our approach. My chest eased slightly at the sight; no predators had come near, and they were safe. At least something had gone as planned.
Before I could even get close, Elias let out a cheer loud enough to startle the birds from the trees. “Yes!” he shouted, his voice ringing out across the clearing. “It worked! The book finally thought I was worthy!”
I turned sharply, bow still in hand, as I watched him clutch the glowing relic to his chest. He beamed as if the gods themselves had chosen him, his smile wide and unrestrained. The book was open, the ancient, glowing words shimmering faintly against the dim afternoon light. I wasn’t sure if it was arrogance or pure relief, but his joy practically radiated off him.
Dravon gave him a sharp glance, already busy checking the saddlebags on his horse. “That’s great,” he muttered dryly. “One mystery solved.”
Elias either didn’t notice the sarcasm or chose to ignore it. He spun to face the rest of us, practically bouncing with excitement. “You saw it, right? It opened for me! The book finally recognized me! It’s a sign!”
I felt Azura stiffen before I saw her. She walked straight past him without a glance. Her shoulders were tight, her posture rigid, and she hadn’t so much as glanced in Elias’s direction since we’d left the forest.
I frowned, letting my eyes linger on her for a moment. She was avoiding him—purposefully, almost painfully. And I knew why. Elias’s feelings for Azura were written all over his face, from the way his gaze lingered on her to the way his voice softened whenever he spoke her name. He might have thought he was being subtle, but I’d seen enough to know better.
Azura wasn’t looking at him because of that kiss. She hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had he, but I could feel the tension between them like a thread pulled too tight. Elias clearly thought the kiss meant something, but Azura... well, Azura was Azura. She wasn’t one for distractions, especially not ones as messy as feelings.
“It finally opened,” Elias said again, his voice rising with giddy excitement. “This changes everything! Solhaven is the next step. We have to go there now!”
At the mention of Solhaven, a collective groan rippled through the group. Stravos slumped dramatically against his horse, throwing his head back like a child being forced to do chores. “Another month of riding? Are you kidding me? We’ve just spent weeks barely stopping, and now you want us to go straight into another slog across the kingdom?”
“Yes!” Elias said, his enthusiasm undeterred. “We can’t stop now. The book has opened to me, and we need to act quickly. Solhaven is the key—I can feel it.”
Azura huffed under her breath, still focused on her horse. Her silence spoke volumes. She hadn’t even acknowledged Elias’s outburst, and I could see the frustration beginning to creep into his expression.
“Azura, what do you think?” he asked suddenly, turning to her with an expectant look. “You saw it, didn’t you? The book opened for me. Isn’t that amazing?”
She froze for just a fraction of a second before continuing her work, her hands tightening the straps on the saddle with a little more force than necessary. “It’s great,” she said shortly, her voice flat. “Congratulations.”
The coldness in her tone hit harder than any insult could have, and Elias’s face fell slightly. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“Azura’s just tired,” I interjected, stepping forward before the tension could escalate further. “We all are.”
But Elias wasn’t done. “We’ve been through so much to get here, and now that the book has finally—”
“Let it go, Elias,” Dravon said sharply, cutting him off. His voice carried a weight that made Elias snap his mouth shut. “We’re all tired. If you want to get to Solhaven so badly, let’s just focus on getting back on the road.”
Elias hesitated, glancing between Dravon and Azura. For a moment, it looked like he might argue, but then he nodded, his enthusiasm dimming slightly. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “We should keep moving.”
I exchanged a glance with Azura as I walked past her to check my own horse. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes stayed fixed on her task. She hadn’t looked at Elias once since we’d reached the clearing, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for both of them. Elias was trying so hard, but Azura... Azura wasn’t the kind of person who let herself get swept up in something as messy as love. Not now, anyway.
“Let’s move,” Dravon said, swinging up into his saddle. He was clearly trying to keep the peace, but his patience was wearing thin. “The faster we leave, the faster we get there.”
Elias scrambled onto his horse, clutching the book awkwardly in one arm. “We’ll make good time if we keep the pace up,” he said, already urging his horse forward. “Solhaven isn’t going to wait for us.”
Stravos groaned as he hauled himself onto his horse, muttering something under his breath about slave drivers and endless roads. I mounted my own horse, adjusting my quiver as I glanced back at Azura. When she finally settled into the saddle, she kept her eyes on the horizon, her expression unreadable.
Elias was already a few paces ahead, his excitement pulling him forward at a brisk pace. The rest of us followed reluctantly, the weight of weeks on the road pressing heavily on our shoulders. And though Elias’s enthusiasm drove him forward, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it would only lead us deeper into trouble.
The sun was high in the sky as we rode, the heat settling heavily on our backs. The open plains stretched out around us, the horizon seemingly endless. The rhythmic thud of the horses’ hooves against the dirt road was almost hypnotic, broken only by the occasional snort or the jangle of reins. Despite the monotonous pace, there was no easing of tension. Every time we slowed to give the horses a break, Elias was quick to push us forward again.
“We’re losing daylight,” Elias called over his shoulder, his voice strained with urgency. “We need to make better time if we’re going to reach Solhaven before the week is out.”
“It’s fine, Azura,” he muttered, though he didn’t move to stop me. “You don’t have to fuss over me.”
“Yes, I do,” I said firmly, tugging the cloth a little harder than necessary. “And don’t argue.”
Dravon smirked faintly, his good hand brushing a stray leaf off his trousers. “You’re avoiding him, aren’t you?”
I froze for half a second before resuming my work. “No,” I lied, dipping a cloth into the water and pressing it gently against the jagged bite. “I’m making sure you don’t lose an arm to infection.”
“Sure you are,” he drawled, wincing slightly as I dabbed at the wound. “Pretty convenient timing, though, don’t you think?”
“Shut up, Dravon,” I muttered, my voice low.
He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”
I didn’t answer, focusing instead on tying a fresh strip of fabric securely around his arm. The kelpie bite was healing well, but the jagged edges still made my stomach churn when I looked at it too long. I tied the knot a little tighter than I needed to, earning a sharp hiss from Dravon.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he grumbled.
“A little,” I admitted, sitting back on my heels. “Maybe now you’ll stop calling it ‘just a scratch.’”
Dravon flexed his fingers, testing the bandage. “I’ll live,” he said, his smirk returning. “But I don’t think you can keep this up forever.”
“Keep what up?” I asked, feigning ignorance as I packed away the used cloth.
“Using me as a shield,” he said, his voice quieter now. His gaze flicked toward Elias, who was pacing near the edge of the clearing, his eyes darting toward me every few moments. “You’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”
I shook my head, standing abruptly. “No, I don’t.”
“Azura,” Dravon said, his tone softening, “you know he’s not going to drop it.”
“Then he can keep waiting,” I snapped, brushing dirt from my hands. “I’m not talking to him about... that.”
Dravon sighed, leaning back against the tree. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”
“Look who’s talking,” I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended.
Before he could respond, Elias’s voice broke through the clearing. “Azura,” he called, his tone hesitant but insistent.
I turned my back to him, busying myself with adjusting Dravon's scabbard. “I’m busy,” I said loudly, my voice carrying just enough finality to discourage him.
“Azura,” Elias said again, closer this time. His footsteps crunched softly against the forest floor as he approached. “Please. I just want to talk.”
“I don’t have time,” I said sharply, tugging at the straps unnecessarily. “Go talk to someone else.”
“Azura,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “It’s about—”
“I don’t care what it’s about,” I snapped, spinning around to face him. The words tumbled out before I could stop them, laced with frustration. “I’m not talking to you, Elias. Not now, not ever.”
The look on his face stopped me cold. Hurt flashed in his eyes, quickly followed by a flicker of determination. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the book in his hands began to hum.
The sound was low at first, a faint vibration that seemed to pulse in the air around us. Elias froze, his arms tightening around the book as golden light seeped from its edges.
“Not again,” Dravon muttered, rising to his feet and reaching for his weapon.
“It’s glowing,” Elias said, his voice trembling as the hum grew louder. “I can’t stop it!”
“Put it down,” Dravon barked, his tone sharp and commanding.
“I can’t!” Elias shouted, panic lacing his voice as the book forced itself open in his hands. The pages fluttered violently, glowing symbols appearing on the parchment in intricate, shifting patterns.
“What’s happening?” Therynna asked, her tone sharp as she moved closer.
Elias stared down at the glowing text, his wide eyes darting across the page. “I—I don’t know,” he stammered, his tone unconvincing. “It’s just... symbols. I can’t read them.”
“You’re lying,” Dravon said, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re reading it, aren’t you?”
“No!” Elias said quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t know what it says. I swear!”
I exchanged a quick glance with Dravon, unease twisting in my stomach. Elias’s reaction was too deliberate, too rehearsed. The way his lips moved slightly, as though mouthing the words—it was obvious he knew more than he was letting on.
“Close it,” I said, stepping closer. My voice was calm but firm, masking the rising panic. “Now.”
“I—I can’t—”
“Close it!” I snapped, the force of my words cutting through his hesitation.
With trembling hands, Elias forced the book shut. The glow faded instantly, the hum dissipating into silence. He clutched the relic to his chest, his face pale and his breaths uneven.
“What’s in it?” Dravon asked, his tone sharp. “What did you see?”
“I told you—I don’t know,” Elias insisted, his voice defensive. “It’s just symbols. They don’t mean anything.”
I narrowed my eyes, studying him carefully. He was lying— I was certain. But for now, I let it slide.
“We need to move,” Dravon said, his voice hard. “Now.”
As the group began packing their things, I felt Elias’s eyes on me again. His unspoken questions hung in the air, but I didn’t look at him. Instead, I busied myself with Dravon's gear, my heart heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.
THERYNNA
The forest seemed to close in tighter the farther south we moved. The ancient trees stood like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches tangled overhead, casting everything in a gray-green twilight. The ground was soft beneath our boots, blanketed in moss and damp earth. I trailed behind Dravon, my bow in one hand, the other brushing lightly against my quiver as if the touch of the arrows could steady the weight of this place.
Elias stumbled along at the back of the group, clutching the book as though it might shield him from whatever horrors he imagined lurking in the woods. There was a tension throughout the group, but it wasn’t from the forest. It was the secrets we were keeping to ourselves. Dravon, Azura, Stravos, and I had lived here once and had called these trees home. Nothing in this forest would harm us—not while it remembered us. But Elias didn’t know that. Besides I was certain he was hiding something from us too.
“We need to move faster,” Dravon said, his voice low and sharp. He glanced back, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon. “We don’t want to be stuck here when night falls.”
“Do you think we’ll make it out before then?” Elias asked, his voice shaking slightly.
Dravon didn’t answer immediately. “We’ll try,” he said shortly, his tone clipped.
I bit back a smile. Dravon's irritation was genuine, but the rest of it—the tension, the watchful glances—it was all for show. Even Stravos, who loved to crack jokes at the worst times, had fallen silent, his scythe resting against his shoulder in a way that made it seem like he was ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
I, too, played my part. My fingers twitched on my bowstring, and my gaze darted to every shadow, every rustle of the leaves. It wasn’t hard to act; the forest had its own secrets, an unspoken power that could make even the bravest person uneasy. But the truth was, I could feel the earth beneath my feet, its steady pulse beneath the layers of moss and stone. This forest wouldn’t harm us. It still remembered who we were.
Then, the ground began to tremble.
It was subtle at first, a low vibration that tickled the soles of my boots. But it grew quickly, the dirt and moss rippling ahead of us like a wave. Dravon raised a hand, signaling us to stop, his face set in a mask of wary focus.
“What’s happening?” Elias asked, his voice breaking. He clutched the book tighter, his eyes darting to the shifting ground.
“Stay still,” Dravon ordered, his voice firm. “Don’t move.”
The ground ahead of us split open with a low groan, the earth cracking and churning as something rose from below. Dirt and moss fell away like water, revealing a massive creature made entirely of the forest itself. Its body was a hulking mass of twisted roots, vines, and compacted soil, pulsing faintly with a greenish glow. Its limbs ended in jagged claw-like appendages, and its shoulders were crowned with shards of stone that were so smooth they glistened in the dim light. Its head—or what passed for one—was featureless save for two glowing, ice-blue eyes that burned like twin stars.
I tightened my grip on my bow, drawing it just enough to add to the illusion. My heart was steady, though, because I could feel it—the connection between the creature and the earth itself. This thing wasn’t here to harm us. It was a guardian, a reminder of the power this forest held. And it was watching us.
Elias stumbled back, nearly tripping over a root. “What is that?!” he shouted, his voice rising in pitch. “What the hell is that thing?!”
“Don’t move,” Dravon repeated, his hand hovering near his weapon.
The creature tilted its head, its glowing eyes sweeping over us slowly. When its gaze settled on Elias, it lingered. I could feel the weight of its attention, like the forest itself was studying him, measuring his worth. But it didn’t lash out. It didn’t attack. It simply stood there, massive and unmoving.
Finally, with a groaning sound like the creak of an old tree, the creature began to sink back into the ground. The earth closed around it seamlessly, the moss and dirt settling as though nothing had ever disturbed it.
As we stood there pretending to process what we just encountered, the silence was broken only by Elias’s ragged breathing. “We need to get out of here,” he said, his voice trembling. “We need to leave—now!”
I glanced at Dravon, catching the subtle flicker of understanding in his eyes. He knew, just as I did, that the creature wasn’t a threat. But Elias’s fear was real, and it was a useful tool.
“He’s right,” Dravon said, his tone heavy with false conviction. “We can’t stay here.”
Stravos nodded quickly, his scythe shifting in his grip. “Agreed. Let’s move.”
Elias looked at me, his eyes wide and desperate. “Therynna, you saw it,” he said. “You know we’re not safe here.”
I hesitated, pretending to weigh his words. “You’re right,” I said finally, lowering my bow. “We need to go. Now.”
Dravon led the way again, quickening his pace, and the rest of us followed. Elias stayed close to me, his breathing uneven, his hands trembling as they still held firmly onto the book. My siblings continued their act, their weapons ready, their movements rigid ready for a surprise attack. But as I walked, I let my hand brush the trunk of a tree, feeling the pulse of the earth beneath its bark.
The creature had been a warning, but not for us. It had been watching Elias, measuring him. And I couldn’t help but wonder if the forest had already passed its judgment.
When the edge of the woods came into view, Elias let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging with relief. “We’re almost there,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else.
I glanced back at the trees, a pang of longing tugging at my chest. This forest had been our home once, and it still remembered us. But as we stepped into the sunlight, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had left something behind—something we might never get back.
“Let’s keep moving,” Dravon said, his voice steady but firm. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”
I nodded, gripping my bow tightly as we pressed on, the shadows of the forest lingering in my mind like a whispered warning.
The clearing where we’d left our horses felt like a breath of fresh air after the heavy stillness of the forest. The animals stood where we’d tethered them, shifting restlessly as they sensed our approach. My chest eased slightly at the sight; no predators had come near, and they were safe. At least something had gone as planned.
Before I could even get close, Elias let out a cheer loud enough to startle the birds from the trees. “Yes!” he shouted, his voice ringing out across the clearing. “It worked! The book finally thought I was worthy!”
I turned sharply, bow still in hand, as I watched him clutch the glowing relic to his chest. He beamed as if the gods themselves had chosen him, his smile wide and unrestrained. The book was open, the ancient, glowing words shimmering faintly against the dim afternoon light. I wasn’t sure if it was arrogance or pure relief, but his joy practically radiated off him.
Dravon gave him a sharp glance, already busy checking the saddlebags on his horse. “That’s great,” he muttered dryly. “One mystery solved.”
Elias either didn’t notice the sarcasm or chose to ignore it. He spun to face the rest of us, practically bouncing with excitement. “You saw it, right? It opened for me! The book finally recognized me! It’s a sign!”
I felt Azura stiffen before I saw her. She walked straight past him without a glance. Her shoulders were tight, her posture rigid, and she hadn’t so much as glanced in Elias’s direction since we’d left the forest.
I frowned, letting my eyes linger on her for a moment. She was avoiding him—purposefully, almost painfully. And I knew why. Elias’s feelings for Azura were written all over his face, from the way his gaze lingered on her to the way his voice softened whenever he spoke her name. He might have thought he was being subtle, but I’d seen enough to know better.
Azura wasn’t looking at him because of that kiss. She hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had he, but I could feel the tension between them like a thread pulled too tight. Elias clearly thought the kiss meant something, but Azura... well, Azura was Azura. She wasn’t one for distractions, especially not ones as messy as feelings.
“It finally opened,” Elias said again, his voice rising with giddy excitement. “This changes everything! Solhaven is the next step. We have to go there now!”
At the mention of Solhaven, a collective groan rippled through the group. Stravos slumped dramatically against his horse, throwing his head back like a child being forced to do chores. “Another month of riding? Are you kidding me? We’ve just spent weeks barely stopping, and now you want us to go straight into another slog across the kingdom?”
“Yes!” Elias said, his enthusiasm undeterred. “We can’t stop now. The book has opened to me, and we need to act quickly. Solhaven is the key—I can feel it.”
Azura huffed under her breath, still focused on her horse. Her silence spoke volumes. She hadn’t even acknowledged Elias’s outburst, and I could see the frustration beginning to creep into his expression.
“Azura, what do you think?” he asked suddenly, turning to her with an expectant look. “You saw it, didn’t you? The book opened for me. Isn’t that amazing?”
She froze for just a fraction of a second before continuing her work, her hands tightening the straps on the saddle with a little more force than necessary. “It’s great,” she said shortly, her voice flat. “Congratulations.”
The coldness in her tone hit harder than any insult could have, and Elias’s face fell slightly. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“Azura’s just tired,” I interjected, stepping forward before the tension could escalate further. “We all are.”
But Elias wasn’t done. “We’ve been through so much to get here, and now that the book has finally—”
“Let it go, Elias,” Dravon said sharply, cutting him off. His voice carried a weight that made Elias snap his mouth shut. “We’re all tired. If you want to get to Solhaven so badly, let’s just focus on getting back on the road.”
Elias hesitated, glancing between Dravon and Azura. For a moment, it looked like he might argue, but then he nodded, his enthusiasm dimming slightly. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “We should keep moving.”
I exchanged a glance with Azura as I walked past her to check my own horse. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes stayed fixed on her task. She hadn’t looked at Elias once since we’d reached the clearing, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for both of them. Elias was trying so hard, but Azura... Azura wasn’t the kind of person who let herself get swept up in something as messy as love. Not now, anyway.
“Let’s move,” Dravon said, swinging up into his saddle. He was clearly trying to keep the peace, but his patience was wearing thin. “The faster we leave, the faster we get there.”
Elias scrambled onto his horse, clutching the book awkwardly in one arm. “We’ll make good time if we keep the pace up,” he said, already urging his horse forward. “Solhaven isn’t going to wait for us.”
Stravos groaned as he hauled himself onto his horse, muttering something under his breath about slave drivers and endless roads. I mounted my own horse, adjusting my quiver as I glanced back at Azura. When she finally settled into the saddle, she kept her eyes on the horizon, her expression unreadable.
Elias was already a few paces ahead, his excitement pulling him forward at a brisk pace. The rest of us followed reluctantly, the weight of weeks on the road pressing heavily on our shoulders. And though Elias’s enthusiasm drove him forward, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it would only lead us deeper into trouble.
The sun was high in the sky as we rode, the heat settling heavily on our backs. The open plains stretched out around us, the horizon seemingly endless. The rhythmic thud of the horses’ hooves against the dirt road was almost hypnotic, broken only by the occasional snort or the jangle of reins. Despite the monotonous pace, there was no easing of tension. Every time we slowed to give the horses a break, Elias was quick to push us forward again.
“We’re losing daylight,” Elias called over his shoulder, his voice strained with urgency. “We need to make better time if we’re going to reach Solhaven before the week is out.”
