Page 34

And Runs Straight at Me

“ T he left one is yours.” Netharu’el gestures toward the other side of the room.

I walk over and sink onto the bed. Like in the main building, the mattress is soft, giving way beneath my weight without a sound. It feels like a silent cloud, framed by wooden sides, crafted from a wood I don’t recognize. It’s nothing like what I am used to in Valeanrae.

Only an elf’s length separates my bed from Netharu’el’s. The hut is that small.

A ladder leads to the upper floor, where a cramped dining area and an even smaller bathroom are located. Everything is made of wood, including the walls, floors, ceiling, and furniture. Dark, muted, and barely illuminated by candlelight. One candle on each of the two dressers.

Beyond the lone window, the night is impenetrable, the glass dull with grime. There are no personal belongings, nothing unpacked. It’s bare and cold—a prison.

I’m trapped.

Here.

With him.

His reaction when Merediath delivered the news was priceless. He laughed right in her face. But the moment he realized it wasn’t a joke, the amusement drained away. Merediath didn’t look pleased either.

“Saxx, this place is cramped.” I scan the narrow walls as the wind rattles the structure. “Why do we both have to stay here? It feels fiery unnecessary, doesn’t it?”

“The bond between master and apprentice is essential to the learning process. They need to know each other. Properly.”

Netharu’el stands by the dresser near the window, folding clothes into precise stacks. He pulls them from a basket on the floor, his belongings from his previous room, I assume, though I don’t care enough to ask.

“Get to know you?” I scoff.

“So it seems.”

“No, thanks.”

He lets out a low growl and spins around so fast the shirt in his hands slips from its perfect fold. “I was only explaining the reasoning behind the housing arrangements, not saying I agree with them.”

“Great.”

“We need to sleep.” He leans against the dresser, meeting my gaze as he folds the shirt effortlessly in midair.

Flaming. I can’t even fold clothes on a hard surface.

“Speak for yourself, black elf.”

He hisses, setting the garment aside before dragging his hands slowly over his horns, an odd, deliberate threat. “We’re up at dawn.”

I tilt my head, resting my chin in my hand, as I watch his fingers glide over the tips of his horns. If that’s supposed to be a threat, it’s not working. “Mmm-mm.”

“And assess the skills you already possess. I hope they’re not as pitiful as I suspect.”

“Suspect? Are you serious?” I laugh, shifting my gaze from his horns to his eyes.

“What?” He spits the word, slamming the dresser drawer shut. The lone picture frame rattles.

“Been to Harmonia lately? Welcome to Morkovia, sun cycle five thousand six hundred and twelve.” I adjust my pillow and cross my arms.

“If only.” He turns, stripping off his tunic without hesitation and folding it neatly on the dresser. His bare back is exposed, muscles shifting with each movement as he strides to his bed by the window and shakes the blanket.

His fitted breeches sit just above his hip bones. Far too low.

I avert my gaze. “I barely need sleep. Not sure about you, but sun elves get by on just a few daytimes.”

Netharu’el moves across the room, his footsteps muted, and blows out the candles. The thick scent of smoke curls through the hut as darkness consumes everything. Aronia black. Soon, shapes and outlines will emerge.

But not yet.

For now, I’m blind.

Netharu’el stretches out in bed, pulling the thin cotton blanket over himself. Whether he removed his breeches or not remains a mystery. “Star elves are immortal.”

“I’m aware.” I roll my eyes toward the ceiling, tracing the faint outlines of the wooden planks as the wind murmurs outside.

“That should explain enough, my dear.” His voice is smooth again, like silk wrapped around a blade, like he’d rather strangle me and toss me to the wolves.

“Take it easy. Your arrogance is getting on my nerves, black elf.”

“Sleep isn’t a necessity for us. But it’s enjoyable. Calming. We gather energy for the day ahead.”

I lift the blanket, slip beneath it, and quietly shed my clothes, ensuring Netharu’el doesn’t see. I toss them carelessly into the space between us, then turn away, pressing myself against the wall, as far from him as possible. “So convenient for you.”

“How exactly did you persuade Kathraanis? Or did you go straight to Merediath?”

“Curious, are we?”

“Did you threaten them? Perhaps with a skill I should know about?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Iszaelda.”

“Mmm.” I close my eyes, trying to shut him out, inhaling the last wisps of candle smoke. They fade, thinning with each spark.

“I’m your master. You’re required to share any information I ask for.”

“And which clause of the contract says that?”

He goes quiet. But I can hear his heartbeat, so strong and steady it could keep an elk running for miles. Rhythmic, yet powerful.

“No, that’s right,” I continue. “We don’t have a fiery contract, do we? Too bad for you.”

“Seriously, what did you do? There’s no way they would have agreed under normal circumstances. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Classified information.”

“What’s your ability?”

I yawn and smirk defiantly into the wall.

“Iszaelda, answer me. I need to know if I’m going to train you.”

“That’s not why you’re asking, is it?”

He scoffs. “That doesn’t matter.”

I yawn again, pull my pillow over my head, and shut him out.

“At dawn, I’ll make you talk,” he murmurs.

“Start running.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Run.”

We stand at the base of Gorgoroth. Tangled and wild, the jungle rises before me, a looming mass of deep green.

A web of branches, thorns, vines, and towering trunks.

Roots thick as houses, stretching and twisting through the earth.

The light is dim, and eredawn is just beginning to stir.

A burnt-orange glow seeps through the trees, wrapping around their trunks like gilded borders, turning them into gnarled, weathered pillars amid the tangled growth.

The air is crisp and fresh, still thin from the night’s lingering cold.

“You said you’d assess my skills today, didn’t you?”

“And stamina is one of them. Perhaps the most important of all, my dear.”

Netharu’el fades into the black shadows, where the deep blue of the night still clings to the jungle like a second skin. His eyes are the only thing visible. Dressed in matte black, he blends seamlessly into the forest, a predator perfectly at home in the wild.

I drag my feet against the ground. The trail is rich and earthy, seeping in between my toes. “How long?”

“Until you can’t go any farther.”

“But I don’t know the area.”

“Of course not.” He tugs his mouth into a mock frown, as if feigning sympathy.

“So how am I supposed to find my way back?”

“Just go. Stop thinking so fiery much. Or are you already struggling with the task? How do you plan to fight if you can’t even run?”

“Calm down, I’m walking.” I kick a loose stone, sending it skittering down the path. The sound is the only thing breaking the silence.

“Not walk. Run.”

I shoot him a glare as unyielding as the tree trunks, then turn toward the rainforest and start jogging, leaving him and the garden’s cobblestones behind.

I try to shake off the stiffness in my limbs. My body is heavy with sleep, sluggish and uncooperative.

“Good luck!” he calls after me, his voice thick with sarcasm. As if he’s hoping I’ll trip. Or die out here.

He wants to be a master as much as I want to be an apprentice.

What’s stopping him from coming along?

Why in the fires am I running alone?

I pick up speed, pushing harder. I want to impress while Netharu’el is watching.

I dive into the darkness, into the black unknown. Faster. Faster. Faster! Come on. Prove that I’m not weak. That I’m just as fast, just as strong as he is.

My feet pound the earth, bare, swift, relentless.

There were shoes to borrow. Netharu’el tried to force a pair on me but failed.

I’ve run barefoot my entire life, with only a few rare exceptions. It’s when I’m at my fastest, my freest. Over the sun cycles, I’ve learned how to place my steps. Which twigs to avoid and which ones will hold.

But this new forest is a different world, with unfamiliar creatures, plants, species, and branches.

Anything could happen.

I slip into the forest, vanishing from sight. Netharu’el can’t see me now.

I exhale, allowing myself to ease my pace. The jungle’s night air wraps around me, the essence of the rainforest—earthy and rich, with the deep musk of soil, the sweet aroma of leaves, and the sharp tang of bark.

The path is wide, though not as vast as Gann Gavannoa. Ten elves could run side by side if they wished. I keep to the middle. Vines brush against my shoulders, draping over the path like slack ropes, some pulled taut, others hanging in heavy, tangled knots.

Having grown up in Valeanrae, a vast forest stretching for days on horseback, I should feel at home here. And I do.

A better home.

No snow. No biting cold. No skeletal trees.

No family.

A sharp pang grips my chest, but I grit my teeth and shove it aside. Focus. On the path. On the quick drum of my heartbeat. On the crumbling earth beneath my feet.

My body moves in rhythm, arms pumping. Warm. Hot. My pulse is hammering. Breathe in. Breathe out. Steady.

A fleeting moment of peace before the heat and heaviness return.

Maybe I could escape. But they’d find me, and I wouldn’t get far.

How do I know if the spell Merediath cast is working? I don’t understand Arzakean, and I don’t know what she said.

But I felt the power in her words, the force behind them.

Something happened to me. Something changed.

And somehow, I know. I can’t leave the forest.

Once I become a shadow warrior, I can go after Naeva. And then Akares. Only then will I have the right to grieve. Only then will my duty be fulfilled and my vengeance complete.

The thought sends my heart hammering. My breath turns ragged, the sound drowning out everything but the steady rhythm of my feet against the earth.

Akares.

His face burns in my mind: the thick ivory lashes, the skin, and the repulsive white hair. I see my hands twisting his neck. The sharp crack. His body crumpled at my feet.

Satisfaction.

Then, and only then, can I move on.

I run on. Thinking of the Academy. Of Netharu’el. Of Akares. Of Naeva.

The rainforest comes alive around me. Creatures peek out, colors unfurl, and the darkness recedes.

It takes time before fatigue creeps in, before my steps grow sluggish.

But when it does, there’s no ignoring it.

I’m drained. My breath comes in quick, ragged bursts, sweat soaking through my clothes.

The linen top clings to my skin, and the breeches stick to my legs. Damp. Heavy.

Reluctantly, I turn back.

Before I move on, I brace a hand against a tree trunk and sink among the roots. They rise and twist around me, casting deep shadows against the daylight. My arms slide limply to my sides, burning from exertion. The air is thick, stifling, and heavy in my lungs. I dig my fingers into the damp earth.

I can’t deal with Netharu’el.

Why him?

He’s probably standing at the forest’s edge, counting every spark I’ve been gone, judging and preparing his verdict on my stamina.

But the truth is, he doesn’t know a fiery thing.

He has no idea how fast I ran. No idea how far.

He would’ve had to come along to see for himself. But he didn’t, of course.

Too lazy. Too indifferent.

Typical.

My breathing is steady again. I close my eyes and listen.

Birds. Insects. Wind. Grass. Beetles. Leaves. And…

Something else.

My eyes fly open, a jolt ripping through me, like a hundred flames coiling through my body, only to vanish in a single spark.

I don’t move.

I hold my breath.

Fingers clench around the earth, nails digging in. Every muscle is tight.

Now!

A soft tread. Heavy, decisive steps make the ground quiver just slightly, just enough.

I rise. Slowly.

My back presses against a root, its rough surface scraping my arms. I bend my knees, scanning the shadows, my head turning in every direction.

Listening. Sensing.

And then it leaps.

And runs straight at me.