Page 87 of Iron & Embers (The Ashes of Thezmarr #1)

CHAPTER 87

Wren

‘Advancing from novice to adept marks a true milestone in an alchemist’s journey. It signifies not just expanded knowledge, but a deeper connection to the mysteries of our sacred art’

– Drevenor Academy Handbook

D ESSA ELBOWED HER. ‘Quit staring at your Bear Slayer,’ she hissed. ‘We’re about to be called.’

Thea, who was standing guard behind Wren, snorted loudly.

Flushing, Wren tore her gaze away from the lightning-kissed Warsword with a smile and forced her attention back to the High Chancellor.

Belcourt scanned the faces of the novices, and then the larger crowd across the rows of benches. ‘Today, we bear witness to the culmination of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice. The path of an alchemist is not an easy one, for it demands not only a mind sharp as a blade, but also an unwavering loyalty, and a true heart. The novices who stand before us have proven themselves worthy of this calling, having endured the rigorous training and trials that have shaped them into the individuals they are today.’

Goosebumps broke out across Wren’s skin as his words washed over what remained of their cohort. This was the first chance she’d had to see who had made it through the Gauntlet. She scanned the familiar faces, trying to work out who was missing – besides Blythe, of course. A tremor of guilt ran through her. Blythe might have passed the Gauntlet too, if she hadn’t looked quite so much like Wren.

The High Chancellor’s voice grew more solemn as he continued. ‘To our novices, I say this: remember the lessons you have learned within these hallowed halls. Remember the bonds you have forged with your fellow alchemists, for they will be your greatest strength in the years to come. And above all, remember the sacred oath you have taken...’

The High Chancellor turned to face the royal guests, bowing his head in respect.

‘To our esteemed guests, the rulers of the midrealms, we thank you for your presence here today. Your support and recognition of the alchemical arts are a testament to the vital role that our graduates will play in shaping the future of our lands. May their knowledge and their dedication serve you and your people well in the years to come.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And so, without further ado, let us begin the graduation ceremony. Novices, come forth!’

Wren squared her shoulders and approached the podium with her friends. As she did, she thought of Ida and Sam, wishing they were here to see her now, wishing that they, too, were climbing the stage to accept their adept medallions. Tears burned her eyes, and for once, she didn’t blink them back. Not as her name was called, not as she bowed her head to accept her own medallion from the High Chancellor. The gold-and-silver disc gleamed in the torchlight.

‘Congratulations, Elwren,’ High Chancellor Belcourt said. ‘You surpassed even my high expectations.’

He shook her hand in a dry, warm grip before she continued across the podium, where Farissa was beaming at her.

‘You did it,’ her former mentor whispered.

For a moment, Wren forgot the tension between them, forgot that Farissa had tried to stop her from attending Drevenor. Instead, she remembered the years of tutelage, the hours of patience, and the unwavering kindness Farissa had shown her from the very beginning.

She threw her arms around the older woman’s shoulders.

After a moment of shock, Farissa relaxed, returning the embrace firmly. ‘Ida and Sam...They would be proud,’ she murmured. ‘Unsurprised, but proud.’

Fresh tears tracked down Wren’s face. Farissa’s words meant more than she could ever say.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For everything.’

Farissa smiled warmly. ‘I always knew this day would come.’

Wren gave her a final squeeze before following Dessa and Zavier to the side of the stage to await the rest of the graduates. She found Torj’s sea-blue gaze in the crowd once more, his presence anchoring her to the moment, his pride for her so clear on his handsome face.

Dessa bumped her hip against Wren’s. ‘Could he be any more obvious?’ she whispered. ‘He’s so in love with you.’

Wren wiped the tears from her cheeks and grinned. ‘I know.’

Dessa grinned right back.

The evening couldn’t have been more perfect. Despite everything that had led to this moment, Wren knew she wouldn’t take it back for the world—

An explosion rumbled in the distance.

All around her, whispers and gasps broke out. People surged towards the windows.

‘Get back!’ Cal called from the fringes of the hall, forcing his way to the stained glass and peering beyond.

A horn blasted in warning.

‘There’s an unknown force at the gates,’ Cal’s voice echoed across the hall. ‘Audra?’

The Guild Master did not hesitate. ‘Lead the unassigned Warswords and two units of guards to the academy entrance,’ she ordered. ‘Whoever this force is, they’re not to step foot on these grounds, are we clear?’

‘Crystal.’ Cal was already moving, shouldering his bow and quiver. The doors were thrown open, and Cal led the charge for the main gates, his fellow warriors of Thezmarr behind him. Wilder barred the main hall doors, the timber and iron rattling after them.

Wren watched on in shock as her fellow students huddled together, eyes wide, hands shaking as they clutched their newly awarded medallions. The royal guards had surrounded their monarchs, weapons drawn.

‘We need to get the rulers out of here,’ Thea shouted across the crowd.

A towering figure warmed Wren’s side. Torj was there. ‘There’s an antechamber behind the stage,’ he told her, his knuckles white around the grip of his war hammer. ‘Take the others, get inside, and lock the door.’

But Wren threw her robes over her head, heart hammering, hands palming several vials at her belt. ‘I don’t fucking think so, Bear Slayer. We stay together.’

Torj opened his mouth to argue, but his words were drowned out by a deafening blast. The very foundations of the hall shook as the eastern wall exploded inwards, showering the room with dust and debris. Screams of terror filled the air as people scrambled for cover.

Through the gaping hole, Wren glimpsed dozens of armed figures pouring into the hall, weapons gleaming in the torchlight. Their faces were obscured by dark masks, revealing only cold, merciless eyes.

The People’s Vanguard.

The Warswords and rulers had thought the threat stamped out.

But there was no denying it: they had been wrong.

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air as the masked men advanced.

Wren’s heart pounded as she prepared to unleash her alchemy and storms upon them. With Cal and the bulk of the forces gone, they were outnumbered...but she’d be damned if she didn’t go down swinging.