Page 32

Evander

A fter riding for a few hours, Quinn and I stop in a small grove to rest. The southwestern route we followed out of the mountains has been littered with signs of spring.

Now, here in the grove, we are surrounded by giant trees beginning to bud with new leaves.

Early flowers are bursting through the light layer of snow on the ground, forcing their way up to the crisp air to have the sun dance along their petals of light yellow and pale violet.

A faint floral aroma wafts on the light breeze, and I pull in a long inhalation, breathing in the beautiful scent.

It’s a welcome change from the dry smell of winter and snow.

The weather is more pleasant too and we’ve both stripped ourselves of the fur-lined cloaks needed back in the mountains.

The sun is high in the sky now, directly over the grove, indicating it’s almost time for us to head back to the camp. It’s been an uneventful trip which, while relieving, also means I’ve been lost to my own thoughts for much of it.

Now I sit, reclining against a fallen tree, the bark scratching against my back as I relax my body into the damp ground.

Quinn mirrors me, setting his broad, muscular body beside mine.

We haven’t spoken much throughout the ride here, and what Quinn did say was only met by grunts and growls on my part.

He gave me the space I needed to work through my emotions while we rode.

Though now that we rest, the spring breeze seems to whip the anger from my body and whisk it away. Something about being outdoors, being in the fresh air, has always agreed with me.

I thought about Bria the whole way, my mind constantly wandering back to her no matter how I fought to forget the shit Quinn told me.

I’d wanted to find her, needed to find her, to ask her where she was last night and more importantly to ensure that boy keeps his hands off her.

This physical reaction to jealousy is more than I was prepared to handle, the tightness it elicits in my chest only adding to the aching I already have for her.

Needing to rid myself of the thought, I focus on the sounds of the grove—small animals nestling or burrowing into their homes, or birds chattering and singing about. But I quickly find there are no such sounds. The grove is eerily quiet. Has it been this whole time? No, we would have noticed.

Something has shifted.

Quinn stiffens beside me, his hand quickly reaching for the hilt of the sword at his side.

He notices the change as well. At nearly the same time, we launch ourselves from the ground, stances wide, shoulders broad.

We stand back to back, watching the trees around us for threats. Something is out there.

As I scan the edge of the grove, a figure begins to emerge from the trees.

It’s far enough away that I hope it hasn’t spied us yet.

Because this beast? This is a creature of legends.

Something I’ve only heard about in stories or read about in books.

And I have no interest in coming face to face with it.

I push back on Quinn, grasping his arm, my fingers digging into his flesh. I feel as he rounds, coming up next to me.

“Oh shit ,” Quinn breathes, a whispered curse laced with genuine fear.

We back slowly and silently to the horses, one foot behind the other in a crouched shuffle.

They’ve smelled it, their hooves lightly scraping the grass and stamping, discerning there’s some threat out there, something they don’t like.

The beast is scanning the grove now and we have only a few more feet to go before we can gain access to the mounts and flee.

As long as the damn horses don’t take off without us.

Though really, that fucking monster would be on us in a heartbeat if it wanted to.

Horses or not, we wouldn’t stand a chance.

From here, I can see the giant beak that curves into a vicious peak, capable of eviscerating both me and Quinn where we stand.

The wings that splay out behind the beast are enormous—a monstrous display of tawny brown and saffron feathers that soar feet above its hulking form.

It would be majestic were it not the most terrifying thing I’ve seen in all my years on this earth.

The animal turns its eagle head away, one massive, clawed foot poised midair.

It hears something and thank the gods it isn’t us.

The wings above it twitch, flicks of muscle and feather as it tunes in to the noise, far too distant for either of us mere mortals to register.

The talons on the enormous foot seem to grow, flexing forward with a menacing curl.

In an instant, the creature angles its robust back legs, covered in fur, and propels itself into the air.

The beating of wings echoes off the trees surrounding us and sends a fresh breeze rippling through the grove.

The beast disappears through the tops of the trees, quickly vanishing from sight.

It takes off flying in the same direction we had been heading. Toward the Forsaken Woods.

Quinn breathes heavily beside me, gulping down air, and I become keenly aware I’ve been holding mine.

As I heave air into my lungs, the smell from the breeze strikes me as familiar—with hints of rose and.

..lavender. Images of Bria come flooding back into my mind at the scent with such force I feel I may be knocked back.

“The Guardians.” Quinn is stoic, his face rearranged to convey no emotion after the shock of seeing the beast. A soldier through and through.

I watch as he straightens, jamming his foot into a stirrup and swinging his body over the saddle. I’m still frozen, however. Still crouched and waiting to see if the monster will reappear.

“Ev?” Quinn is staring at me now, his hazel eyes serious, searching for clues as to why I’m not moving. “We need to go,” he states firmly, turning his horse and forcing the heels of his boots into the stallion, urging it forward.

Willing my body to move, I follow suit, swinging up and over the horse. Kicking my heels down, the stallion takes off at a gallop, strong legs thrumming under me as the wind tears through my hear and stings my eyes. I turn at last to watch as the grove disappears from sight.

After maybe an hour of riding, Quinn decides we’ve put enough distance between the beast and us to slow our riding to a steady pace. He drags a hand down his face, rubbing his chin with a hard grip. The unease radiating off him is palpable.

I understand. We had all heard of the Guardians over the years, but no one had ever seen them.

Or at least no one saw them and lived to tell the tale.

Because not only were the Forsaken Woods forbidden due to the pretentious king and his rules against magic, none had set foot there since the Keeper fell.

Honestly, the king and his priests can’t step foot there, despite what they want people to believe.

That magic should only be wielded by the worthy, those chosen by the mystical god they worship.

The Guardians would devour them if they tried—better to let the people believe the place is outlawed than to think it’s a place protected by ancient magic and the power of the old gods.

Better for Braddock if they don’t know the truth.

Because those are the lies Braddock and his priests spread throughout Easthallow and to the far reaches of Azudora.

He continues to allege that those selected by Vaohr are the only ones to possess power, but that the Keeper and his daughters had stolen what was rightfully his, as had the others—that they acquired the Forsaken Woods and its powers before hoarding it for themselves.

Then they’d spread their stolen magic amongst the unworthy, a plague upon the people, having these powers that were not meant for them.

They were tainted. And that now he’s working to remove those with power from the kingdom to maintain safety among the people, to please Vaohr, and return that stolen power to the priests. Or so he claims.

Lies. Awful, degrading lies.

Most of the nobles believed these lies over the years.

In fact, many throughout Azudora did, and were unaware of what happened in the depths of the castle.

But the truth passed down through generations by those who had magic in their blood.

Bloodlines like my own kept the stories alive, and those who aided in the rebellion knew the truth—that Braddock is a jaded and selfish man whose insolent family had been shamed by the Keeper.

That he is greedy and manipulative. But his lies worked.

So many turned against those with powers, my own father included.

But now? Everything my mother told me as a child is coming true.

And now I fear we won’t be able to pass through to the Woods, that the Guardians won’t let us in, just as they have not let anyone in for over a century.

“There are four Guardians, correct?” Quinn’s rough voice splinters through my thoughts.

Quinn’s family has no magic in their bloodline.

His father and mother were normal people who befriended others with magic, stood up for them even when their lives were on the line.

His older brother lives in the southern camp, became a rebel commander like Quinn but a year earlier, a year before the attack that drove us from our home.

They aren’t close, never were really. But the circumstances surrounding their childhood pushed them both into service, pushed them both to try and do something better with their lives.

His family was quite unlike my own, meaning he was not brought up hearing the stories every night before bed.

He didn’t go to sleep dreaming of the Keeper and the Guardians, of Lilith and Kiara and the magic that grew within the Woods.

He didn’t grow up hearing about the Current and the Incendiary and how beautiful the world was when magic and the gods thrived.

Hearing faerie tales of magical places and legendary creatures.

But I had. From my mother. And he knows enough from me and his years in the rebel underground to understand what the beasts are.

“Yes,” I respond, clearing my throat of the sudden lump that formed along with the image of my mother.

“One to each direction of the compass. They prowl the areas surrounding the Woods to protect it. They have ever since the Keeper was killed and Lilith and Kiara fled.” I’m recounting the stories, remembering pictures of the Guardians in the books my mother read to me, always when my father was preoccupied with his duties to the earl.

“Legend says they are gryphons—fierce predators that will kill to protect what they are bound to,” I finish, rubbing my eyes with callused fingers.

But the effort does nothing to remove the images of the creature, half lion and half eagle, with a wingspan wider than the length of my horse.

“They have keen sight. We were lucky the beast heard something other than us.”

Quinn grunts in response. “I remember the pictures from your books, even if it was years ago. But seeing it before us...prowling through that grove...” His words taper off and I catch the chill he shakes off, the one that crept up his spine at the thought of the animal.

We narrowly escaped the clutches of the beast —this time.

What would happen if we came across it again, or one of its brethren who stalks the areas surrounding the Woods?

From what the stories says of its location, we were still a day’s ride or so from the mystical forest when we happened upon the grove.

Though I suppose, with wings, the Guardians could survey a wide expanse of surrounding land.

So, we should not be quite so shocked to have witnessed it out there.

But still...something about it had seemed off.

My head bobs in understanding. “We should talk to the captain when we get back. Maybe she has some insight as to how we can pass, something her and Cato discussed.”

There isn’t much in this world that causes fear to crackle through my veins like ice and set me on edge like this.

But the knowledge that this mythical creature has one job and one job only, is enough to strike fear into me now.

That job is to protect the Forsaken Woods, to protect the magic that grows within the area, the home of the gods.

Will it let us pass when we arrive, or will it decide to gouge us all with those curved black talons?

Will it rip our insides from us as it tears that blade-like beak through our bodies?

I already know it will let Bria in, she’s destined to go there, the home of her magic.

But will it let me and Quinn? Will it let Silas?

Neither Quinn nor I possess any magic, despite my mother’s power.

I was never blessed —or cursed, rather —with a gift.

This may be a death sentence for us all.