“Yes,” he confirms, the smile never leaving his lips. “A shapeshifter, a trickster, and your most loyal ally.” His voice holds a strange mix of sincerity and mischief, making it impossible to tell whether he’s teasing or utterly serious.
Storm nudges him again, and he chuckles softly, rubbing the horse’s muzzle with practiced ease. The sight is disarming, a rare moment of calm in a night already filled with too much tension.
I glance at the others who all shrug. With a deep breath, I look down at Nero. “You have given me no reason not to trust you. But if you so much as sneeze in the wrong direction, I will hang you with my vines.”
Nero smiles and bows. “I would expect nothing less.”
Before I can answer, Nero shifts back into his horse. Storm snorts, and then there’s no hesitation. With a powerful surge, he takes off in a sprint, his massive hooves pounding the ground with an almost deafening rhythm. We burst from the trees and into the meadow. Our surroundings blur around us as he moves, swift and untamed, like a force of nature. I lean forward, bending low over his neck, my fingers gripping the reins tightly as the wind lashes at my clothes and hair.
The night swallows us whole, the vast expanse of the meadow stretching out endlessly. Kian and Tristan flank Zaria and me, their presence steady and protective, while Raiden leads the charge, his dark form cutting through the night like an arrow. Valric brings up the rear.
After an hour of relentless riding, my legs scream with every movement, and my fingers are stiff and numb from the cold night air. The river we’ve been shadowing begins to narrow, its frothing waters cascading with unrelenting speed. The sound of the rushing current grows louder, echoing off the surrounding terrain.
Raiden raises his fist, and we slow in unison, our horses transitioning from a steady canter to a careful trot before coming to a halt.
“This looks like the best place to cross,” Raiden notes, his eyes fixed on the turbulent river. “The current’s strong, but it’s narrow enough.”
I frown, staring at the churning water. It’s vicious, a wild force determined to drag anything into its depths. Beyond the river, the Feyglades loom dark and mysterious, shrouded in mist. And farther still, the jagged outline of the Ethereal Peaks rises against the horizon, faintly illuminated by the sliver of moonlight breaking through the clouds.
Raiden tugs at his horse’s reins, guiding it toward the riverbank. I can see the animal’s hesitation, its ears flicking back nervously as its hooves paw at the ground.
“Wait!” I call out, and glance over my shoulder at Valric, his sharp gaze meeting mine as he gives me a small, firm nod. He doesn’t need to say more; I know exactly what he’s thinking.
Damn it. I haven’t practiced enough with water magic to feel confident, but what choice do we have?
“I’ll see if I can slow the current.” My words remain steady despite the swirl of uncertainty.
Slipping off Storm’s back, I let my boots crunch against the smooth, damp stones that line the river’s edge. Kian is right behind me, dismounting with practiced ease, and following closely. His presence is as solid as ever, and I can feel his protective instincts flaring to life, an invisible shield around me.
With a deep breath, I step closer to the river. The spray from the rushing water dots my face, cold and biting against my skin. Noticing a relatively calm area a short distance away, where the rocks provide some protection from the strong currents, I cautiously make my way across the slippery rocks.
Kneeling, I press my hands into the icy current. It nips at my fingertips, the chill shooting up my arms, but I force myself to hold steady.
I close my eyes, shutting out the world around me, and let the sound of the river fill my mind. I focus on the hum of my magic, the way it stirs in my chest, rising and twisting like a living thing. The chill of the river is almost grounding, anchoring me to the present as I coax my magic forward, urging it to respond. The water laps gently at my hands, a soft, rhythmic sound, and I send my magic out, feeling it swirl with the current like an invisible hand. I imagine the current slowing to a lazy pace, barely rippling as it winds its way through the landscape. Then as almost an afterthought, words fall from my lips in a hush whisper.
“A aibhne fhiáin, cuir do ghearán i gcéin,
Faoin ngealach gheal is spéir airgid réidh.
Le duille is cloch, le toil bhog na cré,
Bí séimhanois — bí ciúin, bí socair.
Lig don shruth scíth a ghlacadh, lig don fhearg dul i suan,
Tabhair pas dúinn don chosán atá á lorg againn.”
The soft murmur of voices, like the rustle of leaves, draws my attention, and I open my eyes.
The river is almost motionless, the gentle current barely disturbing the golden flecks and sparks of magic that flare within the water, a physical manifestation of my magic.
“I knew you could do it,” Valric remarks, urging his horse forward and stepping into the river.
I stand frozen, a wild rhythm drums in my chest as I watch him cross. Kian bumps my shoulder, a light contact that makes me turn to look at him.
“Good job.” He gives me a wink, and gestures with his head to the horses. “Come on, let’s get going.”
We walk over to the horses, and he holds his hand out, boosting me up onto Storm’s back. I gather up the reins, my attention on Nero as he crosses the river next.
