Chapter Thirty Two

Elowyn was sent to clean bloodstains from the training floor as part of discipline for the fight she didn't start, couldn't stop and still felt inside her bones.

She was alone. It was late and cold. She was exhausted and bitter.

Elowyn kept working fast and looking around her incase anyone was coming to unleash their withheld hand of justice upon her.

She was scared and kept feeling like the dead cadet was coming towards her from every corner.

His face kept flashing in her mind.

Then the scent hit her.

Pine. Smoke....

Baron.

Baron walked in after he said he was off to retrieve his gear. But it was clear he came to see her.

Elowyn had smelled him but was startled and got to her feet in a bid to scream and run.

“You always do this much for attention?” He asked, casually.

Elowyn looked at him from the side of her eyes. She licked her lips, unsure about what to do next.

She didn't say anything much but she managed:

“No. They were.... calling me a gay slut.”

Baron didn't flinch. He just looked at her like he was delivering bad weather.

“You’re making enemies fast.” He said calmly like he was hitting her hard with the worst news in history.

“I didn’t start that fight.”

“You didn’t stop it either. More like you brewed the tea and left it on fire."

Elowyn blinked and swallowed. She held her ground.

“Maybe because I’m done playing prey.”

Beat.

Baron chuckled, flatly.

“You're doing it wrong.”

Elowyn was angry and tried to not scream.

"What should I do?"

He stared on for a long moment and then his countenance darkened.

“You’re sick.”

Elowyn looked his way, sharply like he'd just told her that he was going to marry her.

"How.... How did you know?”

Beat. Silence.

“I don’t. You look like it.”

Elowyn glanced at him and tried to compose herself. His green eyes were sharp to see even in the dim evening light that filtered in.

But he didn’t move. And his hand, briefly, brushes the rag from her fingers and tossed it away.

Baron (quiet): “Once you're done cleaning this, you can come up and join us."

Elowyn blinked and her tummy tinged.

“Oh.... Of course."

He was leaving.

" Thank you for defending me in the dining hall. I owe....” Baron interrupted without turning.

“I didn’t."

Silence .

"But I wanted to.”

Elowyn stared after him and before she knew it she was looking around and running out of the training hall in fright.

★★★

★★★

Far from Ashmoore, deep in the whispering cave laced with glowing roots, Mia sat cross-legged, eyes closed, sweat trailing down her temples. Her thick hair clung to her cheeks.

The air was still. Her familiars clasped around her.

But something in her bones throbbed.

A pull.

A dread.

She pressed her palms to the ground, whispering:

“Mother.... please be alright. I wonder what you are going through. I don't want you to suffer. Oh...." Mia was sobbing heavily and her voice was trailing.

Her familiars wey murmuring soft words of sympathy but she couldn't hear them.

Her body began to still.

Her breathing slowed.

And slowly.... she descended.

In her trance, Mia stood up in the growing darkness.

Black winds. Flickers of fire. Distant cries.

Then—suddenly—she saw her. In her mind's eye.

Ariya Froste, chained to a cold stone pillar, her face swollen and streaked with blood. Her arms were raised above her head, wrists bruised raw. Her once-sharp eyes were puffed shut.

Sergius Bezus, face shadowed with cruelty, slapped her hard again.

And again.

And again.

He continued to yell for her to talk.

Ariya sobbed hard and screamed, weak and broken.

Mia choked. She clutched her chest as if she'd been struck herself. Her knees gave way, and she dropped to the cave floor, gasping.

“No.... no—”

Tears streamed down her face as she shook.

More slaps landed on Ariya's swollen face and Mia screamed in helpless misery.

Her lips moved—an old spell—a blood-binding incantation she barely remembered learning.

Her voice rose.

Stronger.

Wilder.

“Y'Korahm Elithë… Y'Sehri Marné... Velai!”

She spoke and spoke and called till she began to tremble. Her familiars scattered towards the magical potion and began to stir the pot in a frenzy.

Blood burst from her nose.

But she didn’t stop.

Not until a silvery, ethereal image of herself pulled free from her body—floating toward the scene of Ariya’s torment.

★★★

★★★

The guards shifted uncomfortably as Ariya suddenly stilled, her scream cut short.

Her bloodily bruised face turned slightly, eyes fluttering.

The ghost-like Mia approached silently.

She reached out.... and gently touched Ariya’s face.

“Sleep now, Ariya." she whispered, voice like a song on wind.

Ariya shivered and muttered.

"My child."

"Sleep."

Ariya let out a quiet sigh.

Then her head collapsed in sleep.

Unmoving. But peaceful.

The guards panicked.

They dumped cold water over her—but she didn’t flinch.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe heavy.

She had shut herself off.

★★★

★★★

Back in the cave, Mia’s body trembled violently.

Blood streamed from her nose, her eyes, her mouth.

Her back arched as she let out a strangled cry—and then she crashed to the stone floor, limp, barely breathing.

She continued to squirm and scream.

Her tiny magical familiars squealed in alarm, scampering in every direction. One darted to the potion shelf. Another stirred the flask. A third began chanting in little chimes.

They moved with frantic precision, their magic twining together to save the girl that had nearly killed herself to reach someone miles away.

And her screams rang down the hilltops and beyond.