32.

  Faelwen

  The next five days slipped through my fingers, vanishing faster than I had expected. Each morning, Spook would vanish into the city, his boots barely making a sound as he left to check the noticeboards for a response to our message. Each time, he returned with the same answer.

  Nothing.

  No reply, no sign, no whisper from the shadows. I had started to worry. His usual easy confidence had begun to fade.

  “I don’t like this,” he murmured one evening, fingers drumming against the worn wooden table of the inn. I noticed his sharp blue eyes flicker toward the darkened streets beyond the window. I followed his gaze, but could not see anything through the foggy glass.

  “Someone’s watching us.”

  His words sent a chill through me, but I already knew. I had felt it too. That strange feeling like little pinpricks on your back.

  Artemis had also sent the same warning into my mind earlier today. I could sense his vigilance. He had taken to wandering the city alone, slipping through alleyways and hidden paths, always returning with nothing but vague reassurances.

  Just exploring, he would say, his golden eyes betraying nothing. But I knew better. He was searching. Hunting for the unseen gaze that trailed our every step.

  During the day, I distracted myself with training. My blade met Elora’s in a dance of steel and reflex, her movements as fluid as water, each strike precise and strong.

  “Think of your blades as an extension of your arm. And watch my body language to anticipate my next move,” she taught me. She fought like the wind itself; swift, untouchable and fierce. I had assumed she was skilled given the sword she was carrying, but only now did I realise how deeply her talent ran.

  In the evenings, my magic was tested beneath Ash’s watchful gaze. His lessons were demanding, his presence intoxicating. I couldn’t always focus with him hovering around me, causing my stomach to flutter and my mind to wander. Many times Ash had to snap his fingers in front of my face to drag my attention back to him.

  “Eyes on the spell not me,” he murmured in my ear with a grin on his face as he gently guided my head back to the spellbook in front of us. His touch sent a spark rippling through my veins.

  By the time the fifth day arrived, anticipation had settled like a storm in my chest. At last, it was the day of our appointment at the tower of magi. I was so done waiting.

  Late in the afternoon, we finally arrived at the grand library that stood before the tower itself. The acolyte who had recorded Elora’s name was waiting for us, his robe pristine, his demeanour composed. Without a word, he led us inside.

  From the outside, the library had seemed modest compared to the imposing tower, but once within, it was anything but.

  The scent of aged parchment and candle wax filled the air. Towering shelves stretched from the floor to the distant ceiling. Acolytes moved like ghosts through the aisles, their voices hushed as they pored over ancient tomes.

  Here and there, clusters of plants in terracotta pots softened the austere atmosphere. Their vines curled over wooden beams, their leaves whispering in the soft breeze from the open arched windows.

  “Here you might find some information on how to break both your pacts,” Elora whispered over her shoulder to me and Ash. Ash nodded in response and took hold of my hand squeezing it softly. A spark of hope nestled quietly in my heart.

  The acolyte led us through this sanctuary of knowledge, weaving through the shelves until we reached a set of heavy double doors at the back. With a solemn nod, he pushed them open, revealing the gardens beyond.

  The moment I stepped outside, the world shifted. Magic thrummed in the air, pulsing through the earth. I closed my eyes, inhaling the raw energy of the place.

  With careful intent, I stretched my awareness outward, envisioning myself to open the windows in my mind. I let the magic weave into me, allowing it to pull me into harmony with the land. And I felt the whispers of the trees. The slow, steady heartbeat of their ancient roots entwined deep within the soil.

  Flowers unfurled their petals in response to my presence, basking in the unseen warmth of my magic. A stream gurgled over smooth stones, its waters singing in a language older than time itself. When I opened my eyes again, I could see it. The magic, dancing like golden threads through the air.

  And I wasn’t alone in witnessing it. Pixies flitted among the grass, their iridescent wings catching the light as they darted between the trees. Some played with the squirrels, their laughter like the chiming of tiny bells. Others hovered near the flowers, gathering nectar in delicate glass vials.

  It was as if I’d stepped into an untouched corner of the world, a place where magic had never been tamed, only nurtured. Just like the tower Aeon Tempus lived in.

  A hand slid into mine, and I barely had time to register the warmth before a jolt of energy shot through my body. I turned, heart pounding, to find Ash watching me.

  His emerald-green eyes gleamed beneath the late afternoon sun, the threads of darkness that always surrounded him coiling and twisting like living things. In the presence of so much raw magic, he looked…

  Otherworldly.

  Powerful.

  His fingers tightened slightly around mine, his expression unreadable, but in his gaze I saw it; adoration, quiet and unwavering. My breath hitched. I looked away, my cheeks burning, but the small smile tugging at his lips told me he had noticed. I send my undying love to him through our bond and squeezed his hand back, unable to suppress my own grin.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Slowly, I withdrew from the magic around me, closing off the connection before it could overwhelm me entirely. The moment I did, the world dulled slightly, as if a curtain had been drawn between me and the energy that had filled my senses. As we approached the entrance to the tower, the acolyte spoke, his voice brimming with quiet reverence.

  “This tower has stood since the beginning of time,” he told us. “It is said to have been built by the first inhabitants of this world.”

  The first inhabitants…?

  The dragons? I sent the thought to Artemis. The idea of dragons crafting such a structure seemed strange. It was too small, too delicate for creatures of such immense size and power.

  Probably, Artemis responded, his tone neutral. When I glanced down, I met his golden eyes; serene, unreadable. As usual when we were talking about his vast knowledge.

  He seemed to shrug before padding forward, following the acolyte without hesitation. I cast one last glance at the enchanted garden behind us before stepping through the threshold of the tower.

  The air inside was cool, laced with the scent of aged stone and burning incense. A vast, circular hallway stretched before us, the walls lined with intricate carvings that seemed to shift when I looked at them too long.

  A spiralling staircase curled up the side, disappearing into the levels above. Small lanterns with a strange yellow light decorated the walls. The acolyte led us toward a wooden door to the left, he knocked twice. From the other side, a warm, melodious voice called out.

  “Come in.”

  The acolyte pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping aside in silent invitation. Artemis entered first, his movements fluid and purposeful, golden eyes scanning the dimly lit chamber.

  One by one, we followed; Elora, Spook, Ash and finally myself. The door creaked softly as it closed behind us, sealing us in a space thick with the scent of parchment, herbs, and something older… something tinged with power.

  The woman at the desk lifted her gaze from the massive tome spread before her, its pages etched with elegant, curling script. It looked as if it were written in elvish.

  The room itself was small yet intimate, wrapped in the warmth of a crackling hearth. Bookshelves lined the walls, brimming with ancient volumes and delicate glass jars filled with shimmering powders and herbs.

  Vines crept along the wooden beams, their emerald leaves casting wavering shadows in the firelight. The floor was layered with intricately woven carpets, each a burst of deep reds, indigos and golds.

  Behind the woman, a tall arched window bathed her in red, orange light from the afternoon sun.

  She rose slowly from behind her desk with effortless grace, her hands clasped neatly behind her back as she moved toward us.

  She was strikingly beautiful, tall, even for an elf, with silver-white hair that rippled like liquid starlight. Gemstones adorned her slender frame, hanging from her ears, curling around her fingers in delicate rings, resting in an elaborate web of chains at her throat. Each stone gleamed with an inner fire, the same luminous green as her piercing gaze.

  Magic pulsed from her, an almost tangible force in the air. I felt Ash shift ever so slightly closer to me, his wariness unspoken but evident. He could sense her power as well.

  She studied us in silence. First, her eyes locked onto Artemis, and for a fraction of a second, something flickered across her face.

  Recognition? Surprise?

  But just as quickly, she smoothed her features into an unreadable mask. Her gaze then flicked to Ash and me, lingering only a breath longer than necessary, before she finally spoke.

  “Why have you come?” she asked in Elvish, her voice warm yet laced with quiet suspicion. I hesitated, looking for the right words in this still unfamiliar language for me, but Ash stepped forward, his tone steady.

  “We seek an audience with one of the elders,” he said. “It concerns the war against the Fiend in the Ancestral Region.”

  She tilted her head slightly, as though weighing his words. Then, she inclined her chin.

  “You stand before an elder,” she said smoothly. “I’m Aelwyn Sylvarin. Now, tell me. Why would we bother with a war in the human realms?”

  Beside me, Spook shifted uncomfortably. He furrowed his brow, clearly lost in the foreign tongue.

  “C-Could we speak in the common tongue, please?” he asked hesitantly. For the briefest moment, Aelwyn regarded him as if noticing him for the first time. Then, with a slow blink, she said, “Of course, human.”

  Her tone was laced with distant amusement, though not unkind. Elora seized the moment.

  “You must be aware of the dire situation,” Elora said. Aelwyn’s gaze slid to Elora, unreadable again.

  “Your father has sent his missionaries to these lands,” she acknowledged. Elora stiffened slightly ready to respond, but I interrupted.

  “We need your help,” I said. “We may have found a way to stop the Fiend. But to do that, we must locate the Runestones of Creation.”

  Something changed in the air then. So subtle, I might have missed it. A sharp glint of interest flashed in Aelwyn’s eyes, though her expression remained poised, serene.

  “I have heard of the runes,” she admitted, voice carefully neutral. “But they have been lost to time, if they ever existed at all.”

  “We believe they do,” Elora said, her voice steady. “My father sent us to this city, because this is the oldest city in the fae lands. If any place holds remnants of the first inhabitants of the Mid Realm, it is here.”

  Aelwyn exhaled a quiet breath.

  “You speak of dragons.” Then, she laughed. Softly, but coldly.

  “No,” she continued. “There are no dragons here. If they had ever existed, don’t you think we would have found them by now, child?”

  They could be hiding in plain sight, Artemis’s voice rippled through my mind, low and contemplative. I turned to him, startled, but the thought had already taken root. I voiced it aloud.

  “What if they never left? What if they live among us, disguised?”

  Aelwyn’s gaze sharpened. Artemis let out a low, rumbling growl in response.

  “You suggest they are shape-changers?” she asked.

  A pause.

  Too long, too careful.

  Then, with a crisp shake of her head, she dismissed the notion.

  “No,” she said again. “If such powerful beings walked among us, the elders would have sensed it.”

  She was lying. Her words had come too slow, too dismissive.

  She’s hiding something. Artemis’s growl echoed in my mind. I pressed forward.

  “Then at least give us guidance,” I urged. “A direction. Somewhere to look.”

  Aelwyn’s face hardened.

  “No.”

  Final.

  Absolute.

  Before I could push further, the door swung open once more. A young girl stepped inside, garbed in flowing green robes. Aelwyn turned away from us, dismissing us with nothing more than a glance.

  “My apprentice will show you out,” she said as if there was nothing left to say. Reluctantly, we followed the girl, retracing our steps though the winding corridors, past the towering shelves of the library, and back through the moonlit gardens.

  When we finally emerged onto the cobbled streets, I exhaled sharply, realizing only then that I had been holding my breath.

  “Well,” I muttered, “That was strange.”

  “She’s clearly hiding something,” Ash murmured, his expression dark with thought. “And she was far too interested in the runes of someone who claims they’re just myths.”

  Elora nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “She was cold. Distant. She didn’t even acknowledge my noble house, and I am used to elder magi believing themselves to be above the mortal law.” She hesitated. “I think we broached something dangerous.”

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  We return to the inn, have a proper meal, maybe a warm bath, and sleep by the fire, Artemis mused, the thought spilling lazily into my mind. I rolled my eyes, biting back a grin.

  You are an odd wolf, you know that?

  And yet, here you are, still keeping me company. He grinned. I chuckled and turned my attention back to the rest of the group who were unaware of the conversation Artemis and I just had. Out loud, I addressed them.

  “The magi here won’t help us. So where do we go from here?”

  “We wait,” Spook said simply. Elora scoffed.

  “For what? The underground network? They’ve given us nothing. And it has been days.”

  Spook smirked, eyes flicking to the darkened alleys around us.

  “Patience,” he murmured. Then just loud enough for any hidden ears to hear, he added, “Someone has been following us for days. I suspect they will make themselves known soon enough.”

  A chill ghosted down my spine. In the shifting dark, the city’s shadows crept closer.