A Shield of Faith (BOOK 4)

Chapter 9

ADARA

Over the canopy of gold-touched trees, a promise bloomed from magick. In bravery, fear; in fear, duty. Defeated at the mountain steps, scattered among the bones of their kin, lost in the derelict despair on the horizon of gleaming swords—

Adara slammed the book closed. Candlelight flickered over the cover of draconic dreams, where wings sprouted from the center and grasped onto the edge of life. On the other side, Tara's message of love — the way she curled her letters into a thick, beautiful weave. She drew flowering lilies on the corners, a continuation of the wings before it came to a sudden stop, half-finished to the bone. Her own shaky circles flourished along Tara's smooth lines, lost in the artistic end. Their personal circle of connection, a signature of what she once had. Don't get too close, twicefold voices warned her. You know what happens when you do.

The wick fluttered with an otherworldly hush.

Furniture blocked her window, piled on top of each other, stepping stones of power. Waves of ice cascaded down her shoulders, and she tugged her furs around them for warmth. Frost bloomed past her lips when she exhaled the cold in her lungs. Lavastone cupped in her gloved hands, she rubbed it close against her nose, shivering to her teeth. Magelights bounced at the pass the watch set up to prevent surprise attacks, but she curled against the wall and tucked her feet into the bedroll. Gods! It's somehow colder than before. Another breath into the lavastone, the volcanic energy glowed silver when she pressed her lips against it. Silver might. It cracked against the twilight sea, spread on the wings of dark lavender flames.

A black phoenix born from soggy ashes.

Lost in a dreamy fairytale.

Book closed with her bleeding heart splattered across the front pages, she tucked it deeper into her lap and listened to the howl of death outside. Stone crumbled underneath wind-eroded foundations, clattering against the streets with an echoed tumble. I hate this place, and I thought the forests around Prunal were creepy enough... Bells rang out a dissonant toll, and silver flames bathed the candle when she stretched out for some semblance of normality. Further practice of her focus, of her instincts. Breath. Feel the pulse of the flow. Let it ignite. Adara put the book to the side and stretched out her fingers. Lilies swirled by the base of their petals and created a glyph of the same evenfall fumes of her dreams. One. Two, to the dance of wyverns.

Her hand slipped into his, and he beamed at her when she put her trust, her hope, in him. Not cursed with power, not tainted with evil, long escaped from a home which never felt like a home. It rested sea to sea, on the tip of the gulf with two statues who held out their hands for the promised dawn. It flickered and lit up several of the other unlit candles in the room with a quiet blaze, but a crack of heavy footsteps echoed with bulkier movements, and she swung through the slow motion when the door creaked open. Flames balled up in her fist, she threw it through her glyph at the enemy.

Fenrer grunted and stumbled when it smacked him with forceful hot air, and magick gathered it and spread it across his body. Instinct. "Gods," she hissed under her breath, jumping out of her bedroll when he rubbed his nose once he straightened himself out. "I'm sorry."

"No." Fenrer held his free hand straight. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He dragged two fingers down his nose and when he shook out his head, silver speckles fell from the magick mist gathered around him. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I haven't slept at all." Adara let the tension go and waited while he entered the room and closed the door behind him. "I thought you'd have been asleep by now — didn't you spend the entire time searching the city?" Her questions died in her throat when he opened his eyes, his pupils the size of large, empty moons, suffocating the beautiful galactic green spirals while the shadows underneath them deepened. "Are you alright?"