Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“That I am and a powerful one,” he said with pride.
Dar glanced once at Muir’s still body. “He claimed Driochmor was his home. That the king stole it from him.”
The warlock’s mouth curved, faintly amused. “The king stole much from Driochmor, but we will soon retrieve all he took and more.”
Dar needed to know more. “How long has Muir worked with you?”
“Long enough for his hatred to grow, not so his skills.”
“He was necessary until he wasn’t, is what you’re saying,” Dar said, “And the Hunter I sent to follow you?”
The warlock sneered. “I finished him off before your stench was out of reach.” His gaze slid, unblinking, to Elara’s still form on the ground. “She sensed me even before she understood what she was sensing.”
“What do you mean?” Dar demanded.
“On the road. She sensed my power, an unease to her.” His eyes sharpened. “She was right. But her power had not matured enough for her to understand it. She could feel the disturbance, not its shape.”
Rage surged through Dar. “You knew what she was.”
“Aye.” The warlock nodded. “The moment I saw her.”
Dar took a step forward. “You ordered her death?”
“I encouraged, convinced Muir it was necessary, and it was. Once she fully awakened, she would have been a problem. For all of us.”
Dar’s vision tunneled. “My wife is dead because of you.”
“Aye.” He admitted unapologetically. “And it would have been done, if not for your inconvenient loyalty to your wife.”
Dar’s hand landed on the hilt of his sword. “You will not take another breath.”
The warlock studied the blade as if it were an interesting curiosity. “You hunt with steel. You track with instinct. You endure.” His gaze lifted, locking with Dar’s. “Admirable traits.”
The forest shifted uneasily.
“But they are useless against me.”
The air thickened, something dangerous in it stirring.
“You will join your wife in death today,” the warlock said with quiet certainty.
Dar knew no sword would defend against this evil. His hands dropped to his sides, fists clenched, breath coming slow and measured now. He felt it then, the terrible calm that followed rage when something deeper took hold.
The ground beneath his boots warmed.
Not from fire, but from life.
The scent of earth rose sharp and clean, moss and rain and blood mingling. Dar felt it then—not as magic, not as power—but as belonging. As recognition.
The forest did not bend to him. It stood with him.
The earth answered Dar’s fury.
The ground split open beneath the warlock’s feet. Roots burst upward, thick as serpents. He tried to counter the attack with his magic, but it was useless against the powerful roots. They wrapped around his legs, his torso, his arms so quickly he had barely had time to respond, to defend himself. Every magical strike he was able to make bounced off the coiling roots and dissipated as if it were nothing more than a playful tap. The warlock spewed out spell after spell that went the way of his magical strikes as the soil continued to drag him slowly down until only his head showed.
“Nay!” he roared. “What are you—?”
Dar lifted his head, eyes burning not with fury but control. “A Hunter, keeper of the land.”
The warlock roared again and the earth swallowed it and him whole. The sound of it—stone grinding, roots shifting—faded, until it left only the hush of leaves and the distant murmur of wind moving through branches. Whatever had hunted them was gone. Whatever threat had come for Elara had ended here.
Dar felt no triumph, only loss.
He turned back to his wife and though he knew she would not respond, he still called out to her. “Elara.”
She lay where he had placed her, wrapped in his cloak, her silver hair stark against the dark forest floor. He glanced once toward the trees, looking for a flicker of blue light, the quick shimmer of wings.
“Amelia?” he called quietly.
Nothing stirred. No whisper. No flutter. And he wondered where she had gone.
Dar lowered himself beside Elara and sat heavily, as if the weight of the world had finally found his shoulders. He gathered her hand in his, enclosing it between both of his, rubbing gently as though warmth might return if he willed it strongly enough.
Her fingers were cold.
He bowed his head, resting his brow against her knuckles.
“I hoped to join you today,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “I truly did. I thought perhaps fate would grant us a little mercy after all we’ve endured.”
He swallowed, tightening his grip on her hand, not ready or willing to let her go. “But it seems fate had other plans.”
The forest breathed around them.
“You took my heart with you,” he went on quietly. “Every part of me that mattered… it went with you. If there is any truth left in this world, then it is this—where you are, my heart will be also.”