Page 16 of Duskbound (Esprithean Trilogy #2)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

My muscles burned as I rounded another corner of the fortress wall, boots crunching against the dried grass. Two weeks of running this route had strengthened my endurance, but the ache was still there, pushing me forward. The unchanging gray sky stretched overhead, the eclipsed sun casting muted shadows that never seemed to move. Time felt different here—stagnant, like the realm itself was holding its breath.

I'd found my rhythm though, counting my breaths instead of trying to track the unchanging light. Twenty laps had become thirty, then forty. The weakness from my isolation was slowly burning away, replaced by a familiar strength I'd thought lost. Even my combat skills were returning, though not as quickly as I'd hoped.

Aether was nowhere to be seen. Ever since that day—since I'd glimpsed that woman in his mind—he'd barely looked at me. No more tether practice, no more observations. Just combat training, delegated more and more to Vexa or Rethlyn.

The vision still haunted me. That beautiful woman with golden eyes like his, reaching out in desperation, her silent scream... I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen something I shouldn't have. Something private. Which is precisely why I'd been hesitant about trying it in the first place.

The fortress grounds were busy—I could see them through the gates of my section, Umbra soldiers moving with renewed purpose as they prepared for the upcoming Strykka trials. Only a week remained. My stomach tightened at the thought. Despite my progress, the prospect of facing them filled me with a cold dread. Especially the Void.

"Look who's already at it!" Vexa's voice cut through my thoughts. She leaned against the wall ahead, a knowing smirk on her face. "You know, most people actually wait until they're fully awake before torturing themselves."

I slowed to a stop, wiping sweat from my brow. "Bold of you to assume I sleep."

"Well, today you can take a break from running in circles." She pushed off the wall, her violet eyes gleaming. "It's time you learned to fly properly. Can't have you relying on Aether to chauffeur you around forever."

The launch platform stretched before us, Tryggar's wings rustling restlessly beneath me as we waited. Being up here felt different somehow—knowing I wouldn't have someone's arms locked around me, knowing it would just be me and this massive, temperamental beast. I adjusted my grip on the saddle horn, watching as Draug pawed at the weathered stone beside us.

“You know, he hasn’t had a rider in nearly half a century,” Vexa said, gesturing towards Tryggar.

“Truly?” I asked, eyeing the silver Vordr beneath me.

“Truly. He was probably just a bit rusty before.”

At least this time, the saddle was well-fit–perfectly crafted to accommodate both Tryggar’s back and my shape. The one Vexa had sent orders for had finally arrived, and even the Vordr seemed calmer, more confident .

"He's been flying these routes with me for years," Vexa added, patting Draug's neck. "Tryggar will follow his lead—they have a good rapport." She smirked.

I couldn't help but think of that first flight with Aether, how Tryggar had plummeted toward the ground at terrifying speeds. The memory should have made me more nervous about flying alone, but somehow it didn't. Maybe because this time I wouldn't have to worry about whatever strange tension always rested between Aether and me.

"The wind patterns shift constantly up there," Vexa continued, "but Draug knows how to read them. Just trust that Tryggar will follow, and try not to overthink it."

Try not to overthink it. If only she knew how impossible that request was for me. But before I could dwell on it further, Draug's wings snapped open, and we were airborne.

Tryggar surged after Draug without hesitation, his wings cutting through the mist. The sudden acceleration stole my breath, but I leaned into it, remembering to keep my weight centered. The fortress fell away beneath us, its dark spires piercing the clouds like obsidian blades. I watched as Draug banked left and felt Tryggar adjust beneath me to mirror the turn.

"See?" Vexa called over the wind. "He knows what he's doing. Now let's try something a bit more challenging."

She guided Draug higher, spiraling through a bank of clouds. The moisture clung to my skin, cold and refreshing, as Tryggar followed. When Draug descended, Tryggar matched his pace. When they leveled out, the two Vordr fell into an easy rhythm, wings beating in tandem.

"You're a natural," Vexa said as she guided Draug alongside us. "Though I shouldn't be surprised. You seem to have a way with difficult creatures." Her lips quirked. "Tryggar included."

"A way with difficult creatures," I echoed, thinking of Aether's sudden distance these past weeks. "Has he always been like that—Aether?"

"Like what?" Vexa asked, though something in her tone suggested she knew exactly what I meant.

"So..." I searched for the right word. "Closed off."

"Aether's complicated. The Umbra is pretty much his whole life—has been since before I joined." She shrugged. "He doesn’t date. He has no family, no friends. Unless you count me, and I'm not sure he does most days."

Vexa was quiet for a moment, adjusting her position as Draug caught an updraft. "I mean, the man clearly has his demons, you can tell just by looking at him, but I think it's best to let him tell his story in his own time."

"How long have you known him?"

"Since he pulled me out of prison five years ago." A wry smile crossed her lips. "I thought he was there to execute me, actually. Instead, he offered me a place in the Umbra. Said my skills could be put to better use than arming assassins."

"You were in prison?"

"Oh yes. Got caught selling spelled weapons to an illegal guild." She laughed, but there was an edge to it. "Not my finest moment, but when you grow up alone in Eastern Umbrathia, you learn to take whatever opportunities you can get. And I was always drawn to sharp things."

Vexa guided Draug into a gentle turn, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "The thing about desperation is it makes you forget there might be other choices. I learned to forge weapons because I had to survive, and because my tether allows me to imbue them. The illegal dealings..." She shrugged. "They just seemed like the next logical step. Until they weren't."

I watched a group of Vordr glide in the distance. "What happened?"

"Got sloppy. Started drinking too much. Made deals with the wrong people." Her voice held no self-pity, just a matter-of-fact acceptance. "Ended up in a cell wondering if execution might be better than rotting away. Then Aether showed up, offering redemption in the form of military service." She shot me a knowing look. "Sound familiar?"

My heart stuttered. "More than you know." I took a deep breath, the cold air filling my lungs. "I nearly killed two noble girls almost a year ago. I couldn't control my abilities—my focus, as we called it. One moment they were taunting me, the next..." I swallowed hard. "A General in the Guard found me. Said I had a choice–join them or face the consequences."

"Some choice," Vexa muttered.

"Yeah." I adjusted my grip on the reins, remembering Laryk's face that day—how his emerald eyes had seemed so dark that night. But I couldn't tell Vexa that part. Couldn't explain how that initial coercion had transformed into something else entirely. "The Guard became everything after that. My purpose. My home." The words tasted bitter now.

Vexa tilted her head, considering my words. "You know, I used to think redemption meant erasing who you were before. Becoming someone new." She glanced toward Ravenfell, barely visible through the mist. "But sometimes it's about accepting all of it—the mistakes, the choices, even the parts that shame us."

The words hit closer than I expected. I thought of the shadows that had emerged in Emeraal, how I'd tried so hard to deny that part of myself. Even now, knowing what I was, accepting it felt like another matter entirely.

"When did you know?" I asked. "That the Umbra was actually where you wanted to be?"

A smile tugged at her lips. "Well, probably when a certain noble decided my charm was irresistible."

"Effie?" I couldn't help but smile. "That must be quite a story."

"Oh, it is. She was absolutely horrified by me at first. Called me uncouth, barbaric—" Vexa's eyes softened at the memory. "Now look at her, sneaking down to the forge just to watch me work, pretending she's not completely smitten."

A sharp cry from Draug cut through our conversation. The Vordr's head snapped toward the ground, wings going rigid. Beside me, Tryggar tensed, a low warning sound rumbling in his chest.

"What is it?" I whispered, but Vexa had already raised her hand for silence.

She guided Draug lower, careful to keep us within the cover of clouds. That's when I saw them—figures moving along a narrow road that wound through the wasteland. Even from such a distance, their movements were unnaturally graceful—uniform.

"Damphyre," Vexa breathed, her earlier warmth completely gone. "At least a dozen. Headed to Draxon."

"Why would they be out here?" I asked, noting how far we were from the main roads.

"That's what worries me." Vexa's eyes narrowed. "This route... it's old, barely used. The only reason to take it is if you're trying to avoid being seen from Ravenfell." She watched the group for a moment longer. "And it leads straight to the rip."