Page 87 of Storm of Shadows

I suppose now the Lich Lord is involved, Natharius is motivated to defeat Arluin. Beneath his anger, I see purpose in his strides as he marches onward through the trees. If he were not accompanied by us mortals, I think he would instead sprint the entire way to Gerazad. Or fly. Though I don’t know how long flight in his demonic form can be sustained.

Another hour stretches on. Our pace remains swift, and we don’t stop to rest. I’m not sure how long it’ll be until dusk falls, but I’m determined to walk until morning, despite the fact I didn’t sleep last night. None of us did. Neither Taria nor Caya suggest we take a break, and Natharius could probably keep on walking for eternity.

Despite my initial resolve, I only last what around another two hours before I am forced to ask the others to take a break. Though the aether in my veins has begun to replenish itself, I feel weakened from when the wisps drained my magic. And my soul.

I shudder as I plant myself on a fallen log, its bark covered in frost, and Zephyr flutters down beside me. With Juron’s death and the knowledge Natharius shared at the lake, I haven’t even had the chance to process what happened in the wisps’ cave. How close I was to death. To becoming one of them.

The thought of becoming an undead nauseates me far more than the prospect of death itself. Over the last few weeks, I’ve brushed closely with death many times, and the fear of dying is familiar. A part of me feels so weary that death almost seems inviting. If not for defeating Arluin and freeing Father, I might welcome it. After all, what else do I have left in this world other than vengeance?

If I kill Arluin and free Father, what will I do then? I have nowhere to return. No one to welcome me back. My home was destroyed. My family and friends were murdered. I am alone in this world.

I shiver.

Maybe the priestess can sense more than just the future, since her golden eyes sweep over me. “Are you all right?” she asks, her white brows knitting together.

I cast her a hurried nod. Nolderan’s fall was well over two weeks ago, whereas Taria and Caya lost Juron barely over two hours ago. I’m not the one who should be grieving. Nor do I deserve anyone’s concern. “I’m fine, thank you.” I turn my gaze in Caya’s direction and hope Taria will do the same. Fortunately, she does.

Caya leans against a nearby tree, staring down at Juron’s sword as she plays with it in her hands. She doesn’t seem to notice us watching her. Her attention stays on the blade.

Zephyr nudges my shoulder, and I tear my gaze from Caya to look at him. His talons claw at the satchel at my side.

“All right,” I say, reaching into my satchel. “I’ll get you some now.”

He sits on his hind legs and watches me as I rummage through all the glittering orbs in search of the pouch of aether crystals.

When I find the orb I need, I hold it flat on my palm and close my eyes. The wisps drained so much aether from me, and I haven’t had the chance to replenish my magic. Even casting a minor spell such asacoligoswill be challenging, but at least it will be easier than castingcrysanthiusto summon fresh crystals. And since my faerie dragon has a very strict diet of aether crystals, he will only turn his nose up at any berries I offer him. Not that I’d contemplate letting him eat anything that grows in these accursed woods.

Zephyr lets out an impatient growl as I hesitate, but I don’t break my focus to scald him. I do my best to draw on the dregs of magic left in my veins and direct it to the orb in my palm.

“Acoligos,“ I murmur.

The orb expands into a pouch, and I retrieve a handful and hold them out to Zephyr. My hand is barely out of the pouch before he swoops down and licks them all off my palm, leaving a slobbery mess in their place. I shake my head at him and wipe the saliva from my robes.

I go to tie the pouch, but my fingers pause on the drawstring, and I peer down into the twinkling crystals within. Castingacoligosto expand the orb into the pouch cost me the little magic I have left, and I need to compress the pouch again so I can return it to my satchel. With how fatigued I feel, I fear I might not be able to cast the spell and then I’ll have to leave them out and they’ll be gone as soon as I turn my back, thanks to Zephyr.

Consuming aether crystals is dangerous, unless you’re a faerie dragon, but I’ve done it before. I have so little aether in my veins right now that even swallowing the entire pouch probably wouldn’t cause me to implode. Though I don’t plan on trying it.

I take only a few crystals, barely enough to fit on my little finger, and lift them to my lips. The crystal’s sweet taste bursts on my tongue, and they fizz in my mouth until they dissolve. Instantly, I feel a little more energized, and castingcoligosto compress the pouch into an orb is easier than expanding it.

Once the pouch is away, I look up to see what everyone else is doing. Taria is in meditation, and Caya is staring at her brother’s sword. As for Natharius, he leans against a nearby tree and stares up at the tangle of branches, looking very much bored.

Though swallowing those aether crystals has returned a small amount of my strength, I’m far from my usual self. We aren’t out of the Ghost Woods yet—in fact I don’t know whether we’re even halfway through—and we could face monstrosities far worse than the wisps before we make it to the other side. I need to replenish as much as magic as I can.

I slow my breaths, trying to sense what aether I can in the surrounding air. Little remains beneath the suffocating shadows, and it’s hard to guide it away from the dark magic. I fall into meditation, oblivious to the world around me. My attention is solely focused on locating what aether I can and drawing it toward me, replenishing the magic flowing through my veins.

It feels like only minutes pass before a hand gently taps my shoulder, but it could be hours.

I open my eyes to see Taria peering at me. “We should keep moving,” she says softly. “It will do us no good to linger here.”

I blink, my senses adjusting. Caya has torn herself away from the tree she was leaning on, Juron’s bow and quiver strung across her back. While I was meditating, she must have asked Natharius if she could instead carry them, and I doubt the Void Prince protested at that request.

Natharius stands a few paces away. His foot taps restlessly against the frozen earth, and judging by his impatient expression, I must have meditated for longer than I intended.

I stretch my arms and roll my shoulders. My muscles do feel rather stiff. I suck in a breath.

More aether hums within me now, and I feel less tired than before. Hopefully it’ll mean I can keep going for longer before needing to stop.

I’m not sure whether Taria rested, but she looks far from fatigued. Maybe her energy comes from all the holy magic radiating within her. Caya also doesn’t look too weary, aside from her grief, but I suppose her lean muscles aren’t as exerted as mine.