Page 1 of Crown of Flame
1
SERENA
“It’ll be just ahead. Everybody stay focused. We can weather this.”
This snow-covered landscape is the only home I’ve ever known, but its pristine whiteness is just as dangerous as it is beautiful. There are ten of us traveling together, and Nielson leads us through the freezing wasteland toward the distant towers. He wears a wide green coat that contrasts with the blank wilderness, emphasizing the buried trees that echo across the horizon.
I struggle, feeling the weight of my frostbitten fingers as I shiver erratically. Even under layered coats, Prazh’s chill is unforgiving. The golden amulet my mother gave me, covered in fiery red symbols, hangs around my neck, jangling slightly with every movement.
I wear it to remember everything I’ve lost, and to try to remember her.
We climb another slope, and the tall, dark aberrations become visible to me. Conjured husks of obsidian stand tall over Prazh, the quickly erected footholds of dark elves who would enslave us if they had their way. To me, they look both angular and nonsensical, reminding me of large shale knives, with pulsating runic symbols that intermittently radiate violet.
“They’re terrible,” I say aloud, feeling my heart race in horror.
“They’re nothing we can’t handle,” Nielsen says. “Let’s keep our composure. We’re not dying in vain today.”
I nod, understanding the very real possibility we’ve prepared ourselves for. There’s a good chance most or all of us aren’t getting out of this alive. But if we can make life more bearable for our friends and family back home, it will all be worth it.
In those towers, we know they’re conducting horrific experiments on the humans in Prazh. From what I’ve heard, most dark elves would just as soon be rid of Prazh—the cold, inhospitable environment found not worth colonizing.
But these are not most dark elves. Somebody decided that our freedom was an abnormal violation and sought to rectify that, no matter the cost.
“We’ll get justice for Ket soon enough,” Nielsen says. “Remember why we’re doing this.”
My foot kicks something hard in the ground, and I nearly trip.
“Hang on!” I exclaim.
“No time,” Beth, one of my friends, says. “The sun should be down soon. Then we’ll have to find shelter again.”
While they trudge forward, I lean down, unburying the object in the snow. I’ve lost most of the articulation in my hands, even through my gloves.
The lump is a human man, covered in ice. He’s long dead, his eyes glassy and wide open. From the looks of him, he could have easily taken on most of the monsters in the wilderness, but he underestimated the nightly freeze, a look of terror permanently etched across his face.
Poor bastard.
What could have scared him so much in his final moments?
I don’t immediately recognize him, so he must have come from one of the other camps on Prazh. I think of how many have died trying to get to these camps, or as abducted victims of the dark elves.
It only hardens my resolve.
I wish I could give him a proper funeral. Most likely, he’ll wind up the food of a hungry worg or ursain.
I mourn him quietly, before seeing how far behind I’ve fallen and dashing to catch up with the group.
“We don’t want to leave you behind, kid,” Aldor says, tipping his scarlet wide-brimmed hat. “Try to keep up.”
He gives me a charming smile that accentuates his deep, chiseled jawline, his stubbly face covered in ice.
“She knew what she was doing,” Beth reminds him. “Don’t give any thought to her mistakes.”
“I don’t want anymore in-fighting,” Nielsen reminds us. “We move as a unit. Please, for the love of whatever gods you follow, throw aside your egos.”
Nielsen stops walking, and the rest of us follow suit.
“Why’d you stop?” Pierce, the group’s elderly curmudgeon, asks.