Page 35

CHAPTER 35

SERENNA

S erenna reappeared with Fenn after the warp, the charged atmosphere between their companions slapping her like a stormfront about to break.

Busy imposing order, Jassyn methodically tucked items into his overstuffed pack. Meanwhile, Lykor and Vesryn stood apart, ignoring each other with a level of disdain that teetered on the edge of absurdity. Spines stiff and arms crossed, they glared in opposite directions across the icy expanse, their expressions twin masks of irritation.

Fenn—either deliberately ignoring or blissfully oblivious to the undercurrent of animosity—proudly waved his kill at Lykor. He earned a dismissive grunt and some muttered complaint about them taking their “stars-cursed time.”

Unbothered by Lykor’s disinterest, Fenn swaggered to his gear and, without the slightest prompting, reenacted the hunt for Jassyn. He mimed the serpent’s demise, punctuating his performance by describing the explosion of its skull as he fastened the creature’s corpse to his pack.

Serenna’s gaze slid to Vesryn while she slung her bag onto her shoulders. Reluctant to disturb the precarious balance between him and Lykor, she caught his eye and subtly tapped the side of her head.

Did you and Lykor come to an agreement? she ventured to ask once the prince’s telepathic link curled around her mind.

No, Vesryn growled, his frustration cracking like ice. I’ll humor him for a few days, but I didn’t think he was actually serious about not going back to the jungle until we’ve crossed the Wastes. He shoved his hands into his cloak pockets, jaw tightening as he skewered Lykor’s back with a glower. Hopefully Aesar can talk some sense into him.

The prince’s eyes flicked to the serpent dangling from Fenn’s pack, mouth twisting with revulsion. I still think we should return every few days to resupply. I’d rather not choke down whatever ropes of meat the Forager Fiend drags back.

Lykor slashed the air open with a portal, the other end appearing across the valley where they’d scouted. Without sparing a backward glance to ensure everyone was ready, he vanished into the midnight void.

Vesryn exhaled slowly, a plume of frosty breath escaping as he rolled his eyes. “He won’t even let me help with the portals.”

Fenn disappeared after Lykor, but Jassyn lingered, stepping closer to Serenna and the prince instead of following. He hefted his pack with some effort, nearly stumbling under the weight of the extra cloaks he’d insisted on bringing.

“At this rate, he’ll run himself ragged before the sun goes down,” Jassyn said, brushing unruly curls from his face. Rather than mirroring the prince’s annoyance, his voice carried a quiet concern.

Temper flaring, Vesryn stalked toward the gateway. “And when that happens, I’m sure he’ll just demand my power.”

Serenna stifled a sigh as she hurried after the prince, the icy wind nipping at her cheeks. When she slipped her hand into his, Vesryn’s strides slowed, irritation softening as his fingers wrapped around hers.

Lykor’s refusal to accept help was maddening. She couldn’t deny that. But Vesryn’s simmering indignation only stoked the flames. Their quarreling seemed almost laughable in the face of what lay ahead.

Then again, Serenna understood why both fought so fiercely to cling onto some semblance of control in a world where so little remained. If these petty squabbles were the height of their troubles, perhaps they should consider themselves fortunate.

“Give him time,” Jassyn said, adjusting a strap on his bag as he matched their pace. “You know he’s used to handling everything on his own.”

“Why don’t you take a turn talking sense into him?” Vesryn bunched his lips before shooting his cousin a pointed look. “For some reason, he actually listens to you without snarling.”

Jassyn reached the rift, hesitating at the threshold before shaking his head. “I don’t think he will,” he finally admitted. “Not after last night.”

Serenna watched him disappear through the portal, her chest tightening under the weight of his resignation. Jassyn always calculated risks, and it was clear he’d decided this battle wasn’t worth fighting. She couldn’t blame him—not when Lykor hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction all day, let alone given any sign he’d heard him when Jassyn spoke.

Lykor’s silence wasn’t indifference. It was a deliberate dismissal.

Vesryn released a short, exasperated breath. “Shall we?” he asked, tone clipped as he gestured toward the rift. “Wouldn’t want to get left behind.”

Time soon lost its meaning, the hours blurring into days as they steadily traveled westward across the Wastes. Snow stretched endlessly, broken only by waves of jagged mountain ranges. Glaciers carved deep trenches in the earth. Their craggy edges formed shadowed valleys amid the ice fields that shimmered under the cold, indifferent sun.

Supplementing the prince’s shields, Serenna’s and Jassyn’s shaman powers strained against the ever-raging elements as the snowy terrain passed beneath them in leaps and bounds. The wind seemed alive in the barren landscape, clawing through their cloaks as if the Wastes itself resisted their passage, a frigid force determined to bar their way.

They pushed their magic to the brink, bending the howling gales just enough to carve a path when snowstorms veiled the world in a haze of white. Yet even their combined efforts couldn’t break the blizzards, and Lykor’s relentless pace allowed no reprieve, forcing them onward through the unyielding storms.

By the third day, the prince had finally managed to erode the unforgiving grind of Lykor’s pace. Aesar had joined them in the evenings, quietly tempering Lykor’s iron will from the shadows.

Lykor had eventually relented, agreeing to alternate with Vesryn on the portal jumps. The concession was as grudging as Lykor himself, a privilege he’d be sure to revoke the instant Vesryn fell short of his expectations.

Serenna kept her thoughts to herself, though the air between them felt more charged with every rift. Even with the burden shared, rivalry brewed as both males stubbornly tested the limits of their power—each determined to spin a portal farther in the distance than the other.

By the time the sun slid behind the snowcapped peaks, the prince had depleted his reserves and Lykor was scraping the last of his power dry. Serenna thought they would halt for the evening, but of course, they didn’t. Lykor always refused to make camp until the first stars flickered to life.

He stalked up to Fenn and demanded, “Give me what’s in your Well.”

While Fenn could have opened a portal to the edge of the horizon himself, his grin stretched wide, like he’d been waiting for this moment. “With pleasure,” he drawled, sparking Serenna’s talent to coax out a globe of illumination, dragging out the moment before he extended the power to Lykor. “If there’s anything else you want from me, all you have to do is ask.”

Lykor’s scowl was sharp enough to flay. He swiped the orb from Fenn’s claw and tore open another rift.

Spinning one of his brow rings, Fenn released a wistful sigh. “One of these days I’ll wear him down.”

Lykor angled toward the gateway, storming through the snowdrifts. But Jassyn stepped forward, intercepting him with a sphere of Essence hovering above his palm. Lykor froze in his tracks, eyes flicking to the magic before his lip curled, as if Jassyn’s offer insulted him.

Jassyn’s shoulders tensed, bracing for a blow. But Lykor only sneered before shoving past him, vanishing through the portal without a word.

Serenna winced, the sting of the dismissal sharp despite not being aimed at her. That was the most acknowledgment Jassyn had received from Lykor since the night in Vaelyn. Lips pressed into a thin line, Jassyn let his hand linger in midair as he stared at the rift.

Vesryn shrugged and approached his cousin, plucking the glowing Essence from Jassyn’s palm. “More for me then,” he said before pursuing Lykor.

Tugging the hood of her cloak tighter, Serenna stepped toward the portal as Fenn sidled up to Jassyn, consoling him about their mutual “rejection.”

On the other side, the sight of Vesryn’s arm draped casually over Lykor’s shoulders drew Serenna to a halt. Her thoughts scattered like windblown snow as she tried to make sense of it—until she noticed the pair gesturing toward the mountains across the vale in conversation instead of argument.

In an oddly abrupt change, Aesar was out now—early. She glanced at the sky.

Twilight crept across the horizon, faint ribbons of pinks and golds painting the peaks. Lykor never permitted Aesar’s presence before nightfall, but she thought nothing more of it.

“We’ll make camp under that overhang,” Vesryn said, pointing to a crescent-shaped rock formation in the distance.

“Shall we see who reaches it first?” Aesar asked, unbothered by the prince’s decision to halt sooner than Lykor would have preferred. He folded in on himself, disappearing in a warp.

Vesryn scoffed, but he spun open a portal and dashed through.

Jassyn hefted his pack, boots sinking as he trudged through the rift with the same exhaustion that dragged at Serenna’s limbs. She made to move, but Fenn snagged her hand.

“Do you want to try warping again?”

“I’ve been trying for days,” Serenna mumbled. “I don’t think I have any wraith abilities.”

“That’s not true,” Fenn countered, tilting his head. “I think your eyes have sharpened—you don’t squint as much in the dark anymore.”

“That’s hardly useful,” she insisted before raising her hands to reveal elongated fingers covered by wraithling gloves. “I can’t warp or cloak. And I don’t even have proper talons or fangs. Maybe I should just give you another talent.”

Piercings swinging in his ears, Fenn adamantly shook his head. “Two’s plenty for me. I’m not about to gamble my fangs for more magics.” He nodded toward the portal, encouraging her to follow the others. “I’ll scout around the area. Maybe I’ll find you another snow serpent since you liked the last one so much.”

Serenna wrinkled her nose. “I only ate it because you didn’t give me a choice.”

Fenn smirked and leaned in. “Perhaps I’ll find something else special.” He lifted his claw, a gentle pressure landing to cradle the back of her neck. “And one of these days, I’m going to get you alone.”

His mouth skimmed against hers, a fleeting graze before he nipped her lower lip. Heat fluttered in Serenna’s chest, but before she could pull him closer, he warped.

She huffed at Fenn’s teasing, her breath curling into the frosty air. Stepping through the portal, Serenna steeled herself to face yet another night of the inevitably awkward sleeping arrangements.

Already settled in, the prince and Aesar had shed their cloaks and were sparring, Vesryn’s short swords striking against the glaives he’d returned to his twin. But the weapons weren’t the only relic of the past he’d surrendered.

For a century, the prince had clung to Aesar’s battered boots, one of the few links to the brother he thought he’d lost. But after much pleading and persuasion before they left the jungle, Aesar had finally convinced Vesryn to set aside that ragged pair for a pristine set of wraith-crafted footwear that matched his own.

“I thought Kal said you’d do anything to avoid sparring?” Serenna remarked to Aesar as she skirted around him and the prince.

Aesar twisted mid-strike, warping to the side in a blur of shadows. Vesryn stumbled forward, cursing about “cheap tricks” and “cheating.” Aesar only smirked, spinning the glaives at his sides.

“I can’t have my brother besting me,” Aesar quipped, his grin sharp as the blades. “Unfortunately, he’s actually improved over the decades.”

Streams of Essence whirled around them both—what little she assumed was remaining in their Wells.

“And this was Lykor’s idea,” Aesar added, shifting his stance as he circled the prince. “He wanted to practice wielding magic while I focus on combat.”

Vesryn lunged, his blades flashing in a wide arc. Aesar’s glaives screeched as he caught the blow. Vesryn hurled a burst of force straight at Aesar’s chest. But shadows erupted around his twin, disintegrating the magic before it landed.

“I can beat both of you,” Vesryn said, nearly winded as he whirled for another strike.

Effortlessly batting the prince’s weapons aside, Aesar arched a brow. “We’ll see about that. I think you underestimate how much Lykor is looking forward to—” Shadows detonated around him before he could finish, lashing at the prince like a hundred whips.

Serenna lingered, watching the fluid rhythm of their clashing weapons and colliding magic as Lykor fought with an unseen hand. There was a brutal artistry to the caged violence, a symmetry in their movements, the way power wove seamlessly through every calculated strike.

Sensing a humming pressure behind her, Serenna turned toward the rocky overhang. Beneath it, Jassyn was twisting a current of wind, sweeping away layers of snow as he began arranging their accommodations.

His shelters had grown more intricate each night, the frozen walls shaped into five distinct alcoves, offering a semblance of privacy.

Pulling herself from the sparring, Serenna made her way toward him to help prepare their camp. At some point, Fenn had been by, his pack leaning neatly beside the others. Serenna released a long, relieved breath as she shrugged off her own bag, its weight hitting the frozen ground with a satisfying thud.

“What do you think?” she asked, brushing her hand across the ice-streaked wall, thankful that the rock shielded them from the wind. “If Fenn can scrounge up something to burn, we could set a fire here,” she said, scuffing her boot outside the overhang.

Jassyn swept his arm in an arc, the icy crystals beginning to stack in response. “We can wall this whole area off.”

“I might as well make my section bigger,” Serenna said with a resigned sigh.

Stretching out her hand, she reached toward the snow beyond where Aesar and Vesryn were sparring. The flakes lifted and gathered, swirling into a whirlwind as she hauled a drift toward herself.

This evening would follow the same unfortunate script as the others. Fenn would somehow manage to claim a spot beside her—in her pocket of space—making Jassyn’s carefully constructed compartments feel pointless.

Serenna could already picture the routine. Fenn would proceed to flash the prince a fanged grin, suggestively patting the space beside himself in invitation. And then Vesryn’s fingers would twitch, his irritation hardly masked, but he’d swallow whatever rebuke lingered on his tongue and stoically settle on her other side.

For all of his shameless antics, Fenn at least kept his clothes on at night. Serenna suspected that it wasn’t out of any sense of modesty, but because even with his warmer blood, he couldn’t ignore the biting cold.

No sooner than Serenna and Jassyn set to work barricading the sheltered overhang with snow, Fenn warped back into the clearing, burdened by a mound of logs and branches.

“We get to have a fire tonight?” Serenna asked hopefully, her steps light as she hurried toward Fenn while he arranged the sticks on the frozen ground.

Longer-burning fires were a rare luxury. Deadwood was scarce and, more often than not, Fenn would have to portal back to familiar terrain to scavenge enough to heat their evening meal.

“And not just that,” Fenn said, digging around in his cloak. With a flourish, he pulled out a handful of sprigs dotted with delicate white fruit. “I found some of those frost berries you like. Perfect for brewing tea once we get the fire going.”

Serenna leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Fenn grinned in response, the bond humming as he tunneled into her side of their Well. Siphoning a stream of magic from her reserves, he channeled her power to fuel his force talent. With a burst of pressure, he gouged a hollow in the ground, the snow scattering like feathers before he began neatly stacking the branches inside.

Essence thrummed in the air, drawing Serenna’s attention back to Aesar and Vesryn clashing in the distance. Rhythmic pulses of magic clashed with the ring of steel.

Catching her staring, Fenn elbowed her with a knowing smirk. “Nothing like two males sparring. Think they’d let me join?”

“To train? Maybe.” Serenna patted his shoulder. “But I have a feeling you’d try to lure them into something else.”

Fenn snorted, snapping a branch. “It’s always a venture worth pursuing.”

Serenna huffed a laugh, drifting over to their packs to rummage for the cookpot and kettle. She flicked her wrist and gathered a stream of snow, steering flakes into the pots.

When Jassyn’s icy wall finally blocked Fenn’s view of the brothers, he sighed and refocused on her. “I’ve been scouting for signs of hot springs, but it seems you’ll have to endure another day lacking that bath you’re about to perish without.”

Serenna grimaced. Washing up with melted snow was a dreadful substitute for a proper bath. She didn’t want to think about the state of her hair, still bound in the tidy braids that Fenn had helped weave before they’d left the jungle. While freezing water around Lykor back at the fortress had been effortless, heating water was a skill that continued to elude both her and Jassyn.

Fenn brushed chips of bark from his claws as he rose. “I’ll venture out again to see if there’s anything to hunt.”

“I think we can survive on what’s in our packs tonight,” Vesryn said as he and Aesar stepped into the enclosure, their cheeks flushed and breaths still heavy.

Fenn tilted his head with exaggerated innocence. “Is your royal stomach too delicate to live off the wilds?”

Vesryn shot him a scowl, dusting snow from his cloak before shrugging the furs back on. He arranged the mantle beneath himself before dropping to the ground, lounging back against the rocky wall. “That furry crab you hauled in last night tasted like it was dredged up from a bog.”

“Snow crawler,” Fenn corrected.

Aesar chuckled as he settled beside the prince, laying his glaives aside. “And yet Vesryn was the one asking for thirds.”

The prince rolled his eyes but didn’t waste more effort on arguing.

Grinning with his victory, Fenn set to starting the fire, striking his talons against a rock. Sparks scattered across the kindling, catching on the dried wood. Flickering to life, the flames crackled as they grew, warmth slowly chasing away the relentless chill.

By the time the stars finished dotting to life across the sky’s dark canvas, everyone had regenerated and dined on Fenn’s hearty soup, a concoction of dried meat and lentils. Serenna nearly choked on a steaming mouthful when Vesryn—having already finished two helpings—fished the Starshard out from his cloak.

The crystal no more than glinted in the firelight before Serenna instinctively slammed a shield around herself. The violet dome pulsed with her irritation, her magic reacting faster than her thoughts.

“Do you have to fiddle with that thing every night?” she demanded, her voice nearly a screech.

Vesryn pursed his lips, turning the Starshard over in his hands as if it were a mere gem to admire rather than catastrophe poised to strike. “I don’t know how many times I have to assure you that it hasn’t done anything since the tree released it.”

“That doesn’t mean it won’t ,” Serenna protested. She set her bowl aside and crossed her arms tightly beneath her cloak, scooting back to put as much distance as possible between herself and the crystal. “It’s still unsettling how close you keep it.”

Beside the prince, Aesar drew out his Heart of Stars, the artifact bursting into light with the five colors of his talents. Rather than leaving both relics behind with Mara in the jungle, Lykor had insisted on bringing at least one with them. Aesar and Vesryn leaned in together, expressions intent as they compared the two, murmuring in low tones.

Uninterested in witnessing the Starshard discharging its power and obliterating them to ash, Serenna retreated to where Jassyn and Fenn were cleaning dishes—their night for the chore.

As soon as they finished, Jassyn wandered back to the brothers while Fenn warped away, still hoping to find a creature to hunt. Serenna took her time lingering in their snow dome, doing what little she could to wash up.

By the time she returned to the fire, she breathed a little easier—Vesryn had tucked the Starshard away and was now channeling delicate ribbons of illumination.

Across from him, Aesar sat next to Jassyn, their heads bent over one of the tomes brought from the jungle. Fragments of their low conversation concerning bloodlines and shamans floated above the crackling fire.

Serenna wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and settled beside the prince. “You mentioned that the king harnessed illumination differently?” she asked hesitantly, following the threads of light whirling around his palms. “Like what the Starshard unleashed at us in the jungle?”

Vesryn’s frown deepened, the silver wisps flaring brightly before dimming. “Aesar didn’t have any more insight into its nature,” he admitted, eyes flicking to his brother and cousin poring over their book. “But Lykor’s right about one thing—our abilities have tiers. I should have realized it sooner, knowing what rending can do.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw before he added, “I just need to figure out how the king turned illumination into a weapon. If we face it again, we need to know how to counter it. Or summon it ourselves.”

His brows furrowed and Serenna sensed his frustration rising. Essence pulsed against the snow-packed walls, each surge pressing harder as he strained to force the magic into something more.

Serenna flinched as blinding white light erupted between Vesryn’s palms, a burst of heat punching through the air. Essence extinguished abruptly as he jerked back with a sharp hiss.

Heart pounding, Serenna gasped as he shook out his hands, the acrid stench of singed flesh rising around them.

“It’s nothing,” Vesryn mumbled, wincing as he attempted to hide his palms in his cloak.

“If it’s nothing , then why do I feel it stinging through the bond?” Shifting to kneel beside him, Serenna seized his wrists, tugging his hands into the firelight. Raw blisters and angry welts streaked his skin.

Serenna ignited mending light as Vesryn waved off the concern from Aesar and Jassyn, who quickly returned to their quiet discussion. She met his eyes as pinpricks of unease crept down her spine.

“Illumination burned you,” she whispered, winding healing lattices around his hands, her palms turning clammy while his stayed warm.

Vesryn didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes glimmered with a wonder far removed from pain. “So something else with the talent is possible.” A soft chuckle escaped him as he stared nearly transfixed at the wounds that faded under her touch.

Serenna tightened her grip around his fingers, tugging his attention back to her. “You have to be careful.” Her stomach churned as his excitement swelled, his thoughts obviously not on his injuries, but on the power that had caused them. “Our own magic shouldn’t affect us. But this is somehow different.”

“Then I’ll just make sure I don’t have it so close to me next time,” Vesryn said dismissively, pulling free from her grasp. He flexed his fingers experimentally, flaring a fresh orb of light to life as an unmistakable spark ignited in his eyes.