Suddenly, an owl flies into our path, and Jorren and I both stop instantly. The owl changes, growing from a feathered beast into our naked leader. At this point, I’ve stopped caring about his nudity.
“We’re almost to the tower. The door looks like it was broken down and replaced with stone blocks. Only a Chained could have moved them, so if we were to go into the tower that way, we’d almost certainly die. I counted bodies outside the tower, and there are twelve. Between the three that died before the trial, the three I killed as a bear, and our team, that leaves eleven left at most. I don’t know if they’re on two teams or spread between all four. Hopefully, it’s the latter, but regardless, they’re going to be at the tower come midnight.”
Jorren doesn’t seem nearly as tired and worn out as I am as he whispers, “How many Chained were dead outside the tower? There were only four left when the trial started.”
“Only one was a Chained. Serica’s team had two.”
The thought of fighting two Chained and Serica sends a shiver down my spine, especially with the way I feel right now. That is not a fight I want to be a part of. I hope Jorren’s plans don’t involve assaulting the tower. I doubt it, though, since he would have wanted Rurik and Elara with him to do that.
Jorren nods. “Good. If they’re both inside the tower, it’ll make everything better. Who knows? Maybe they’ll even open the door for us. How close are we?”
Darian points in the direction we’ve been heading. “The clearing is only a few hundred feet in front of us.”
“Perfect,” Jorren says quietly. He glances at me but says nothing, as if he were just checking to make sure I was paying attention. “Become an owl again. Tell me if anyone notices us. Otherwise, stay out of the clearing.”
“What are you…” Darian tries to ask, but Jorren just shakes his head and begins walking toward the clearing. I’m getting a little frustrated at the lack of information. My hunger and thirst aren’t making it any better.
Darian glances at me and shrugs before returning to his owl form and taking flight once more. I hurry to catch up with Jorren. Before long, I see where the treeline ends and the base of the tower comes into sight.
Jorren raises a hand to stop me. Without saying a word, he stands up taller and pulls his blue robe’s hood over his head. Every muscle in my body is taut in the night’s silence. I didn’t expect to be looking at this tower until it was time to take it, but I don’t even truly know what we’re doing.
The stories about the powers Kaelith gave his Godforged are confusing. The few people who have experienced it talk about visions and memories. They speak of feeling like they’re dying, not because of a wound, but because of the pain in their souls. All I know for sure is that they’ve mostly stayed out of the war and havenever acted like warriors. They defend their lands, but they don’t attack human settlements. No one else seems to want to attack them either. That’s probably because their lands are supposed to be haunted by spirits of the dead who lived in Carradan before even the dragons came to Nyth.
Jorren raises his hands slowly to eye level, palms down, and mist rises along with them. Not shadows or smoke, but a softly glowing blue mist that pulls at me as surely as Azric’s seduction has, and yet, this doesn’t feel like someone or something controlling me.
I feel Jorren’s hand on my wrist, and it’s only then that I realize that I’ve taken two steps toward the mist. He looks at me, but he doesn’t say a word.
Then there’s a scream from inside the tower. A table flies off the battlements at the top, falling as if time had slowed. Then it crashes against the rocks at the bottom in an explosion of splinters.
A woman’s voice screeches from inside. Like I’d feared, I know the voice. Serica Dramont holds the tower. Another loud masculine scream of anger rings out in the air, and a Chained crashes through the second-floor window, taking most of the wall with him. It hits the ground, covered in rust-colored armor, and climbs to his feet. He draws a blade that looks surprisingly similar to Azric’s sword and swings at nothing.
The mist is everywhere in the clearing now, rising twenty feet into the air. It seems to glow in the darkness. Anyone looking on would know it was magical.
The Chained turns away from the phantom it was fighting and begins fighting the tower itself, each blow from the massivetwo-handed sword leaving deep cuts in the stone. More screams come from inside the tower. Jorren turns away from the scene and pulls me behind him.
He walks as quietly as ever, but his footsteps are hurried. The sounds of battle, fear, anger, and grief fill the air behind us, and it’s obvious that whatever he did will be more than enough of a distraction to draw anyone nearby to see what’s happening.
It’s the last place we want to be.
After we’ve walked for what seems like miles, I finally stop. “What’d you do?” I ask.
“I drew on the power of Kaelith to show them the things they’d lost. Friends. Family. Treasures. Paths that they turned away from. All of us who became Godforged once had lives. We’ve spent eighty years forgetting the peoples, things, and paths we turned away from when we accepted our gods’ powers. I reminded them of those things in vivid detail.”
“That’s the power Kaelith gave you?”
“It is one of them,” Jorren says softly. “Unlike the rest of the Godforged, my kind do not share all our secrets with the world.”
“I can understand that.”
I expect him to want to continue walking, but he doesn’t. He stands up a little taller and pulls his hood down. “But now that we’re alone where the others won’t interrupt, I need to know something.”
He raises his hand again, this time palm upward, and I begin to back away. Instead of mist following his movements, an orb comes to life in his hand. Soft blue, like he’d taken a piece of thesummer sky, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “You are not Veris-touched, Fiona. You are something else entirely.”
So similarly to when Nyxthos had stared into my mind, I feel like I’ve lost control of myself. The difference between those two experiences is stark, though. With Nyxthos, I’d known I had to pull away. I’d been desperate to leave his gaze.
This small orb of sky makes me feel all the things I’ve wished I could feel for years. It’s the embrace of someone who loves me without restraint or expectations. It’s the warmth of a hearth fire in the midst of winter. It’s like coming home in a way that arriving at Stormhaven never has.
The world of darkness that we’ve been in for almost three days fades as I’m drawn to the light. I don’t even realize I’m walking toward Jorren. I don’t notice that I’m raising my hand or that I’m well within striking distance.
