Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“He’s sick,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. “That’s why I’m out here. I need to get to his cabin, find his scriptions and bring them back.”
Nicostratus frowns. “He’d be better off with a proper vitalian.”
“Like we could afford that,” I snap.
He looks at me for a long moment. “And you think you can help him?”
“I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”
Something shifts in his expression—less guarded, more thoughtful. The woods begin to thin, and sunlight breaks through the branches in warm patches.
“What?” I ask. “Don’t you have someone you’d do anything for?”
Nicostratus stares ahead, his steps slowing. I wait for him to answer. When he finally does, his voice is softer. “My mother and my brother. I’d give up everything for them.”
I grin and wag a finger at him. “Under all that, you’re hiding some gooey, sweet sap. Or taffy! I love taffy.”
He shoots me a sharp look, but his lips twitch at the edges.
We reach the riverbank, and my grin fades. The bridge is gone—only frayed ropes dangle over the rushing water. Broken planks drift downstream, snatched by the current.
I let out a slow breath, staring at the opposite bank.
Grandfather’s cabin is still a good hike away, and the sun is sinking fast.
I step closer to the edge, eyeing the slope. Maybe I could slide down and swim—
Before I can act, Nicostratus grabs me by the scruff of my shirt and whispers harshly, “Are you an idiot?”
I’m yanked upward, and a rush of wind lifts us both into the air. I flail, but Nicostratus’s hands move with steady precision, guiding the currents. In seconds, we’re across, and he drops me on the opposite bank with a scowl.
“You could have drowned!” he snaps.
I blink at him, dazed. “Can you do that again?”
He exhales sharply, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smirk. “Unbelievable.”
“Fly us up to the treetops!”
Nicostratus folds his arms. “I don’t have an endless supply of magic.”
“Please? Pretty please? With a lovelight on top?”
He rolls his eyes but finally relents, his lips curving faintly. With a practiced twirl, he hooks an arm around my waist and leaps, riding the wind upward.
I laugh wildly, the world spinning below as we soar above the trees.
I turn, drinking in the view. The air feels cleaner up here, crisper, like it belongs to another world.
“I need to get to those marbled rocks.” I point towards Grandfather’s cabin, faintly visible in the distance.
“You’ve a way to go,” Nicostratus says, his voice distracted. His gaze slides past me, sharpening on something out of sight.
“What is it?” I ask, turning to follow his line of sight. A form flickers briefly in the corner of my vision, a glimmering arc through the treetops. Wings, perhaps?
Was it a—
Before I can stop myself, I lean too far—my balance teeters, and I plunge forward.
Branches whip past me, tearing at my clothes and skin. Leaves blur in my vision as I fall, my cry swallowed by the rush of air.
A mighty gust catches me, slowing my descent but jerking me violently left and right. Gold light flares, but something’s wrong. His magic crackles and falters, each burst weaker than the last.
The wind beneath me gives way, and I plummet again. This time, there’s nothing to catch me.
I barely manage a breath before icy water slams into me, yanking me sideways in a fierce grip. The current twists and pulls, dragging me into its depths. My lungs scream as I claw at the rushing water, fingers slipping uselessly against smooth rocks.
A spark of gold flashes above. Nicostratus. He dives toward me, his outstretched hand piercing the water like a lifeline.
I reach for him, but my limbs feel like lead. My vision blurs, lungs burning, and the cold wraps tighter around me.
A sharp impact explodes against my side as I slam into a rock. The world fades in and out, Nicostratus’s face flickering in the chaos, until darkness pulls me under.
I jolt awake, choking and gasping for air. My chest heaves as I cough up river water, each breath rasping through my raw throat.
Thick grass cushions me, damp and cold. My soaked clothes cling to my skin, heavy as lead.
Nicostratus kneels beside me, his face pale and drawn. His robe is gone, leaving him in wet, muddied underclothes. His dark hair clings to his face, dripping water. He’s trembling.
As I steady my breath, I notice the blood staining his sleeve.
I frown, reaching out to inspect it. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” he mutters, but his voice wavers. Exhaustion is etched into his features.
I roll up his sleeve, revealing a jagged gash. Blood wells sluggishly, and a faint metallic scent clings to the air. I lean closer, inhaling sharply. There’s something else . . .
I stiffen, trying to remember Grandfather’s teachings. A sluggish pulse, the nausea prickling my senses—it’s in his bloodstream.
I think I . . . know where it might have come from. I scan his face.