Page 36 of Immortal Origins (Chronicles of the Immortal Trials #1)

T hat night, the seven of them made camp without much conversation. Akadian kept his head down and remained on the edge of camp, hiding himself away in his tent when it was firmly in place.

Coward, Ambrose scowled.

Podara and Ambrose worked on setting up the rest of the bedding and tents, enough for two to each of them with Akadian alone in one.

Felius gathered wood for a fire and with a wave of his hand had one crackling before the rest of them had finished setting up camp.

Danthan and Oryon seemed to have more of an aptitude for goofing off, but still worked as diligently as everyone else, occasionally laughing and shoving each other.

Eurus walked the perimeter of camp, watching the surrounding forest as the rest of them finished.

They pulled out the rations they packed for dinner, only enough for a week before they’d have to find more supplies or hunt for their food.

Though it had been a good harvest season, they were left to more than their magickal capabilities out there.

It seemed Casimir wanted to test her in more ways than one.

Why had he taken such an interest in her? No matter how much she went over it in her head, his obsession with her made no sense.

One by one, everyone ate their meals and bade each other a good night.

Danthan and Felius shared a tent, the twins to another which meant Ambrose was bunking with Podara.

She seemed to have worse fates lately and thought it might be nice not to sleep alone.

She still wasn’t used to it. Maybe it would feel like sharing a dorm with Ernaline again.

Her old life felt so far away now. Only a few months ago she was an entirely different person.

Ambrose was the last to excuse herself. Danthan and Felius opted for first watch and stayed up in animated discussion. It only took moments after her head hit the pillow for her to be taken by sleep.

* * *

They walked tirelessly every day as far as their feet would carry them before they’d set up camp, all to do it again at first light.

Traveling for over a week and a half before they hit the first village to resupply in.

Their food ran out days before and had only managed to hunt small animals with nothing left over for the next day. Getting more food was becoming vital.

The village was so small it didn’t even have a name or a Mayor.

A tiny community with only a dozen or two families that built their homes and tilled their land.

The people were bright and happy as they greeted them, welcoming them warmly into their village.

Though their community was small, they didn’t hesitate to gift what extra rations and supplies they could to the travelers.

Some whispered and pointed when they saw Ambrose, their attention on the mark on her neck.

Likely confused, they didn’t dare ask why hers was different to other servants.

They hushed their children who stared for too long and minded their own, treating her no different than the rest of the party.

She understood why, but she wished they’d stop staring.

She wondered if the story of her trial had reached this far into the kingdom but by the way they treated her, she doubted it.

Good . It would make escaping that much easier if people outside the Capital didn’t know who she was.

The villagers sent them off with full bellies and packs. Freshly baked breads, jams, honey, dried meat, and herbs now sat on the backs of each member of their party. Enough to feast for a while. They thanked the villagers for their kindness as they sent them on their way.

Ambrose had always wondered what the villages around the kingdom were like.

The people were far kinder than she expected and the children laughed and played as though they were all siblings.

Everyone reached out a hand to those who needed it.

She told herself she would come back and visit the village with no name again one day.

* * *

The skies changed as the days progressed.

With the harvest months not so far behind them, the day’s cool sun hung over their heads and when night came, so did the worst storms on this side of The Great Divide.

Every night they huddle from the thunderstorms that rained down on them as Ambrose fought the anxiety that came with them, wind and memories whipping her.

Another week passed before the ridge line of the Fae Forest could be seen.

With less than one more day of travel, they’d finally be at the village at the edge of the forest where they could sleep in a real bed and get some much-needed rest. Cidaer was one of the largest towns in the kingdom, home to over ten thousand citizens.

With the cover of forest so close, Ambrose wanted to push on to the town but with the dark clouds that rolled above their heads, they’d be in a downpour within the hour and had to stop and make camp for the night.

The clouds swirled and condensed until the sky was as black as ink—not a single star able to peek through. The wind picked up, twisting into a roaring howl as they rushed to make camp.

“Secure those ropes! We can’t afford another tent flying off!” Felius barked at the twins as they hammered stakes into the ground.

“That wasn’t our fault!” Oryon yelled over the wind. “That storm came out of nowhere, we’re going as fast as we can!”

“See it doesn’t happen again!” Felius shouted, though the wind muffled most of his words.

Rain poured from the sky, drenching them within seconds and they knew they had minutes to get their tents secured before they were trapped. Oryon and Eurus wrestled one tent while Danthan and Felius struggled with another one.

Wind threw her hair around Ambrose’s face, pulse racing, her breathing came in struggled gasps.

Wind came from everywhere.

Every direction.

Suffocating her.

She clasped a hand over her heart that was pounding so hard she could feel it where her hand touched.

Panic mixed with bile as it rose to the back of her throat.

Her skin tingled and her senses caught fire as a purple-white streak severed the sky that she wasn’t entirely sure wasn’t hers.

She told herself she was safe.

Thornehart was dead.

She was safe.

Take control.

Breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

Ambrose lifted her hands to the sky. The air around her rushed with the blood that thundered in her veins.

Her channels surged, the space around her crackling as small sparks floated through the air.

She pulled back her hands and slammed against the wind as hard as she could, arching her hands in a giant sweep.

The storm pushed against her, but she planted her feet and refused to let it make her crumble.

Her own air current swept over them, creating a protective dome.

“Yeah, way to go!” Oryon slammed his hand onto her back, almost knocking her to the ground. She gave him a strained smile.

“That is really impressive.” Danthan stared, mouth agape, at the edge of the bubble where the storm raged, pelting the ground with wind and rain. “You’ve come a long way. ”

Sweat pooled on her forehead and her head ached as it took everything she had, but the barrier held.

“Thanks guys.” She could breathe better now that unwanted wind and dead lieutenants weren’t terrorizing her.

“How is it that you can wield multiple Elements?” Eurus checked the stakes one last time to make sure they’d hold before standing to face her. “I’ve never heard of that happening before.”

Ambrose shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

“You used Ice when you touched Casimir, Danthan should have had to save your fingers after you grabbed him, but you pulled away perfectly fine. And just now, you used Wind.” Eurus looked at her with suspicion. “How?”

Ice? No… Was that why it didn’t hurt when she touched him?

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“You can do Lightning too right?” Oryon asked, the words a rush out of his mouth. “I heard a rumor that you wielded Lightning in the palace.”

Danthan stayed quiet, the fear of Casimir’s threat hanging over his head. Too afraid to join the conversation and admit he’d seen her lightning firsthand, but he still shot her a small smile.

Oryon looked around at them excitedly, “Maybe it’s a kind of evolution? Do you think others might start wielding more than one? Maybe it’s Magick’s way of filling in for the Mana-Holders?”

Felius had a fire raging for them and they all pulled their soaked bodies around it to warm themselves.

Akadian spoke for the first time all day as he sat in front of the flames, “The gods would know if Magick evolved before we would. It would be the biggest news in the empire.”

“Nice of you to weigh in,” Ambrose snapped, still refusing to look at him. “But the gods haven’t been doing much of anything the last five hundred years. I doubt they’d send word now when they haven’t spoken to the kingdoms in all this time.”

“Maybe it’s a mistake,” Podara offered, sharpening one of her many blades in her hand, making sure both sides of the dagger were equally as deadly.

Eleven beautifully crafted blades of steel that weren’t the preferred Eltorian steel the fighters coveted, but one the color of onyx.

The hilts were wrapped in leather and adorned with aquamarines.

A rare gem that could only be found in Nethyr.

Podara didn’t speak much of her home the way the others did, so Ambrose was left to assume that was her home kingdom.

Given what she’d seen of Podara’s temperament so far, she wasn’t going to ask either.

Ambrose tossed her some dried meat from one of the packs and then to the others, one by one. “A mistake?”

“Yeah,” she said as she tore a huge bite from the chunk she caught expertly on her dagger, “Maybe Magick made a mistake and you were only supposed to get one, but somehow the message was intercepted?”

Akadian shook his head sharply. “Magick doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Then what do you think it is?” Podara asked from behind her freshly pointed blade.

“I think Magick doesn’t make mistakes.” Akadian glanced at Ambrose with a thoughtful expression.

Could she be a mistake? Magnus seemed to think she had more potential now, training her in anything he could think of.

It seemed like she’d gotten stronger but what if she wasn’t supposed to get this much?

What if the more she used her magick, the closer she was to her own blackout and she didn’t even know it?

Casimir certainly seemed to know something and was watching her.

Was that why he’d taken such an interest in her?

Why else would he get so invested in nothing more than a guard killer?

Her crime was one of the highest, but it was hardly worth the attention of a First King.

And why had no one mentioned the garden she was found in aside from Casimir at her trial?

He’d brought it up, so it had to be important or why ask for her confession?

Her official charge was guard killer, but she knew that wasn’t her biggest crime, or what Casimir found interesting about her the most.

Danthan tore her from her thoughts as he squeezed her shoulder.

“I think there’s no way we’re going to figure it out tonight.

We’re all exhausted, and you’re doing a great job keeping the storm at bay so however you’re doing it, I’m grateful.

” He nudged her with his shoulder and gave her a dimpled smile.

“Let’s save the mystery for another day. ”

They ate their fill on the last of the bread and meat, adding honey to both for a feast, as tomorrow they’d be in Cidaer and have plenty of opportunity to restock.

So tonight, they shared food and stories.

Oryon and Danthan took turns telling tales of the various fights they’d been in, doing their best to outdo one another, while Eurus rolled his eyes at what he deemed a ridiculous display.

Felius told tales of his home in Sepikara where they mined for the precious gems and metals that supplied the kingdoms with the funds they needed as well as ore that’s used to forge their magickal steel.

Podara silently listened with the occasional complaint that they didn’t grab any wine in the last village.

She acted as though she didn’t care but she clearly enjoyed the stories as much as the rest of them.

Akadian didn’t say another word but to excuse himself to his tent for the night.

Coward .

The six of them stayed up until late into the night when it could almost be considered morning, and Ambrose found herself wishing they could do this all the time.

She enjoyed their laughs and tales from foreign lands and the people in them that she’d never meet.

They were all so different in birth yet they spoke with each other as though they’d known one another for years.

She was going to miss these nights around the fire.

She’d learned that Felius was a master in magickal weaponry, having made his own axe as his very first weapon at just ten years old.

Danthan had been born in Nazuria, but lived most of his life in the palace to prepare himself to govern one day—which he worked tirelessly to be worthy for, all in hopes of pleasing his father.

Oryon and Eurus had been picked up by Akadian when they were just juveniles pickpocketing crowns for food from unsuspecting travelers.

They’d been training to become knights ever since, quick with a draw and sharp with their wit.

Podara never spoke of her home, but she cared for her daggers like they were her children and Ambrose knew there was a story there waiting to be told as Podara silently listened to their stories with a hint of a sad smile tugging at her lips.

The clouds finally cleared and the rain stopped pattering against her barrier, their fire reduced to nothing but embers and a whisper of smoke.

Ambrose released her hold on her wall and exhaustion came crashing down with it.

Every muscle in her body ached and she knew it would only be worse when she woke in the morning.

She excused herself from the circle that had quickly become the resting place for most of the party and deemed she had enough energy to carry herself to bed.

Oryon and Danthan preferred the warmth of the coals to cramming themselves in together, and Podara announced watch while the rest of them slept.

Felius joined Ambrose in finding a suitable tent to lay his head.

The sun would be up in only a few hours and they needed to rest.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Akadian whispered as she passed his tent, eager to get to her own and rest her head.

Has he been awake this whole time? She paused.

Ambrose wondered if she should bother responding to him at all. She thought for a long moment before she simply said, “You always have a choice.”