Page 50 of The Dark Mage

A fter a grueling half day’s ride, Esrin and Ren’wyn found Fael’s token on the roadside—a gold disc engraved with a leaf, identical to the ones Leta and Miguel carried.

The sight of it sent a chill through Ren’wyn.

Fael could have dropped it after encountering trouble he couldn’t escape—or worse, if he had ridden back to the others and trouble had found them all.

No. No, no , no.

This couldn’t be happening. Fael was too strong, too clever to have been forced into abandoning it. He had single-handedly defeated an entire regiment before. There was no way he could have been ca ught.

No. Please , no.

The world tilted as Ren’wyn collapsed to her knees, dirt and gravel scuffing her hands. The hot summer air scalded her lungs, and her thoughts spiraled as panic clawed at her chest. Fael was everything. This couldn’t be real.

Above her, Esrin’s face twisted with disapproval, his hand resting on his hip. That arrogant ass.

“Don’t give me that look,” she managed, her voice sharp. “It tore you apart when you couldn’t get to me, so don’t act like my reaction is somehow beneath y ours.”

Esrin stepped back, startled by her fierce anger. She used it to burn away the panic threatening to consume her. If only she had a sharper mind for strategy, a clearer plan to guide them for ward.

Wordlessly, Esrin extended a hand, helping her back onto Pa tina.

“What now?” she whispered, rubbing her face with trembling hands. Every inch of her body already felt sore and worn.

Without a word, Esrin handed her a piece of hardtack and some cheese, then swung himself up behind her. Ren’wyn tucked herself back into his thighs, unwilling to create space between them despite the ache in her muscles. They needed to press on until they found more evid ence.

With a swift kick, Esrin urged Patina into a canter.

Ren’wyn couldn’t see the worry in his eyes, but it weighed heavily on her as they rode into the fading light.

The road they now traveled was unfamiliar, the surrounding countryside foreign and unsettling.

By the time they entered a line of woods, the sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the gr ound.

When darkness finally fell, they stopped.

Ren’wyn’s legs nearly buckled as she dismounted, but sheer willpower kept her upright.

She refused to show weakness. Esrin tossed her a blanket and some food before setting up his own bedding with curt, frustrated movements.

He threw his blanket roughly to the ground and devoured his supper in quick, angry b ites.

Ren’wyn picked at her meal, her appetite gone, her emotions a tangled knot in her chest. She struggled not to cry, the effort burning in her th roat.

“Damn it, where are they?” Esrin’s sudden outburst shattered the silence as he slammed his hand to the gr ound.

Ren’wyn jumped, startled. Small fissures spread like spiderwebs through the dirt. The boulder behind her shuddered, chips breaking free with faint cr acks.

“The last time this happened…” Esrin’s voice rang with raw anguish.

“They died, Ren’wyn. They died, and I couldn’t save them.

We found them hung on the side of the road.

Their bodies were still warm. Gods, if it wasn’t the worst thing since the day Bier rode into Ishvaen without you and my heart cracked so deeply I thought it might stop bea ting. ”

He put his head in his hands and fisted his long black hair. The ground quivered again as his magic seeped out of him. Dust rose around her ankles, spiraling in restless sw irls.

“And now—damn it!” he shouted, punching the earth once more.

The granite boulder behind him split with a deafening crack, the sound like thunder rolling through the clea ring.

“Damn it!” he roared again, his anger unleashing his power. A powerful gust of wind tore through the camp, lifting the edges of their blankets and making Patina whicker nervo usly.

Ren’wyn ached witnessing Esrin’s pain, for the magic writhing uncontrollably around him. She glanced at Patina, grateful for the horse’s steady nature despite all he had endured that day.

Deep in the pit of her stomach, Ren’wyn’s magic called to her. She wanted to answer its pull. First, though, she touched Esrin’s arm and tilted his chin with her other hand.

“This is not your fault, Esrin,” she said gently. “We all know the risks of rebelling. We understand that traveling might bring discovery. The good we do balances the fear, and we all have to accept and ow n it.”

“I can’t let go,” he replied, his voice low and strained. Ren’wyn wasn’t sure if he was talking about their companions or her.

Finally, she released her hold on the Void, the persistent call impossible to ignore. In the dark, a heavier blackness swirled from her hands and arms, frost creeping up her skirts as her pupils dilated. She watched the shadows coalesce and cling to her as she ran her fingertips over the e arth.

Ren’wyn felt the remnants of Esrin’s angry magic in the ground and the fractured stone behind her.

Like fragments of dried leaves or strands of torn silk, his power lingered—vibrant and bright.

Pieces floated in the air, shimmering like dust motes stirred by a breeze.

She had never looked for this with her second sight be fore.

Fascinated, she brushed her fingers as if gathering the shards of magic with her hands. Her shadows obeyed, black mist curling around the fragments of air and e arth.

To her left, Esrin inhaled sha rply.

“What the hell, Ren?” he rasped, his aura pul sing.

Ren’wyn flicked her fingers, and her shadows danced with the splinters of his magic, making them shine like blue, green, and silver stars in the mist. They floated, glowing in the dark ness.

Esrin reached for one, his aura a living, breathing force.

When he touched it, he sighed with visible relief.

The contact loosened his control over his power, and a soft wind caressed them both.

The ground trembled, and more small pieces of stone crumbled to the earth.

The rising breeze lifted Ren’wyn’s hair, sending it into her face as her dress rus tled.

When the shades appeared, Esrin froze, fear rippling through his p ower.

Ren’wyn gasped as each spirit reached for a star cloaked in mist. The colorful lights absorbed into their translucent fingers, settling where their hearts would have been in life. In the distance was the comforting presence of Aiden, Moira, and Daren, their contentment thrummed softly within her.

Only one shade held back, its heavy presence unmistakable. Ren’wyn knew who it would be. Bringing a hand to her heart, she beckoned him for ward.

The darkness shook, and the shade melted before reforming directly in front of her. His reappearance brought a biting wind that frosted her cheeks and shoul ders.

She swept the nearest star toward him, the tiny light landing upon his brow.

“Speak,” she breathed reverently. “Speak, Alen.”

Esrin fell to his knees as the revelation struck him. At the same moment, Alen let out an unearthly scream, dragging clawed hands over his face. Ren’wyn felt the violent energy of his death and needed ans wers.

“Speak,” she commanded, her voice still gentle but firm, an undeniable will behind her w ords.

Alen’s dark form shook with suppressed en ergy.

“Speak.” The word was irresist ible.

Beside her, Esrin shudd ered.

Alen’s mouth opened, his voice harsh and jagged, like claws scraping s tone.

“Fael found us. Brigands came. The token. Lia and Sorya t aken.”

His form flickered, its edges bleeding out into the n ight.

“North. Another half day. T rees.”

Alen began to dissolve, and Ren’wyn tried something new. She cupped her hand as if holding water and brought it to her side. His shade coalesced again, regaining its shape. It wouldn’t last, so she swept another star toward where his heart woul d be.

“Come here, Esrin,” she u rged.

Still kneeling, Esrin rose cautiously and approached Alen’s s hade.

“Reach out,” she encour aged.

Esrin hesitated but finally extended his hand. Ren’wyn sent a star between them, and when their fingertips met, Esrin cried out, his body bucking as he experienced Alen’s death through the connec tion.

When his breathing steadied, Ren’wyn told him, “Tell him to rest, Esrin. Give him peace. He needs to know we’ll avenge him and save his sister and fri ends.”

Esrin turned to Alen, his voice sorrowful but determ ined.

“Rest now, friend. We’ll carry on for you. You will never be forgo tten.”

To Ren’wyn’s surprise, Esrin reached out and touched Alen’s fingers once more. Alen’s form solidified, his dark silhouette replaced by the man he had been in life. His torn and bloody tunic was split from shoulder to hip, grim evidence of his violent end.

She knew Esrin heard the same whisper as she did:

“Thank you.”

The dark stars left the other shades, rushing toward Alen’s form. They enveloped him, glowing brighter and brighter until the light became blin ding.

Esrin turned his face away, but Ren’wyn watched until she could no longer bear the intensity. When she blinked, the light burned against her eye lids.

And when she opened her eyes again, the glade was e mpty.

The morning dawned cloudy, a steady drizzle soaking the world in gray. As soon as the sky lightened, Ren’wyn and Esrin climbed onto Patina and headed north. Ren’wyn groaned as she mounted, her muscles aching from yesterday’s st rain.

“Take me with you, Esrin,” he muttered mockingly, his voice laced with dark amuse ment.

Ren’wyn flipped him off from the front of the h orse.

“Very dignified,” he retorted, chuck ling.

She was glad he was speaking to her. After Alen had faded the previous night, Esrin had stared at her for a long, unreadable moment.

When she’d tried to approach him, he had grabbed his blanket and rolled away.

She knew he hadn’t fallen asleep quickly; he had lain unnaturally still under his blanket while she eventually nodded off.