“Everyone clear on their assignments?” The commander glanced around. “Good. Dismissed.”
Eirin and Drystan were sent to check on a missing Druid who had been scouting the river’s edge along Baelmere. The town lay far east of Lumora, past Meadowrun and the Whisperwood Pines, nestled between two large hills known as Aonach and Draoi. Rhosyn was assigned to the woods of Lumora to monitor the spread of the black blooms. Her talent and intuition with nature were unparalleled. Lethal in her craft, she worked her runes in a way that made nature itself seem to whisper, a force all her own. Mason was tasked with testing cadets in training, ensuring they were combat ready while overseeing the school’s progression. The Circle members scattered, each heading toward their designated tasks. Sorcha lingered for a moment, watching them depart, when Riona fell into step beside her, glancing over with quiet curiosity.
“You’ve been awfully quiet this morning. Something on your mind?”
Her tone was light, but curiosity gleamed in her gaze. Sorcha wanted to tell her about the dream. About the whispers still echoing in the back of her mind. About the creatures calling to her from beyond. Her own runes ached to be read, to be understood, to be shared. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t burden Riona with the nightmares that had seeped into her waking life.
“Just tired,” she insisted.
Riona raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.
The morning dew clung to the forest, the scent of damp earth thick in the air. Sorcha and Riona stood at their posts, the woods stretching endlessly before them. Riona leaned in slightly, fingers idly twirling one of the twin knives at her hips.
“So tell me again. How do we run into the Wolves of the Wild Hunt, almost die, a god shows up, and now we’re supposed to act like it’s all business as usual?”
Riona was spinning her daggers in her hands before she threw one into a tree. “And no one is talking about it, why?”
Sorcha adjusted the strap of her sling bag. She didn’t meet Riona’s gaze, keeping her expression neutral, but Kyron’s words rang through her mind.
“Your runes saved you, Sorcha.”
She kept replaying it over and over, rubbing her arm as if it would somehow answer the questions she had.
“I don’t know, Riona. We were lucky. Whether or not it is a god, it didn’t attack us. It helped. That’s more than we can say for most things in these woods these days.”
Sorcha’s fingers brushed over the bandage beneath her sleeve, wincing. The cut still stung.
“We had a job to do. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To monitor things, figure out what’s going on before it gets worse.”
Riona straightened, her grin returning.
“And if it gets worse, at least we’ll get a second chance at a fight. Prove we can hold our own.”
Sorcha let out a harsh laugh. “Let’s hope you don’t get your fight. We have enough to deal with as it is, and I do not need to save your ass too.”
Riona shot her a look. “You know it was exciting, fighting back in the Hollow. Don’t pretend it wasn’t.”
Sorcha turned to her horse, a wide smile spreading across her face as she tightened the straps.
“Riona, the day I find fighting for my life fun, you can assume I’ve had brain damage,” she chuckled.
Riona grinned. “So, where are you off to this time? Whisperwood Pines? Meadowrun?”
Sorcha mounted her horse, pulling herself into the saddle. “Patrolling the usual routes in Meadowrun. Checking in, making sure no one has disappeared.”
Riona, still smiling, looked at the knife she was turning over in her fingers. “Sounds thrilling. Meanwhile, I’ll be here, guarding the post.” She sighed dramatically. “Try not to have too much fun without me.”
“Never.” Sorcha meant it. Riona was like the sister she never had, the closest thing to family.
Riona’s smirk softened, her tone turning more serious. “Watch your back, yeah?”
Sorcha paused, her fingers brushing the reins of her horse.
“I’ll be fine. You just make sure nothing sneaks past you.”
Riona saluted with her knife, her grin returning. “Nothing gets
past me. You know that.”
