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Lyna closed the door, set the latch down and walked across the rented room to a small desk. She grabbed the wick of a candle between two fingers and murmured a few words. A spark flew and a small flame came to life. As much as it tried, the candlelight failed to make the room more welcoming.
At least, the innkeeper has been good on her word. The room was private, located at the end of the hallway on the northern side of the establishment.
Lyna passed a bag off her shoulder and pulled out a rounded leather case. From it, she produced a rolled parchment paper and three black chalks tied with a twine. She freed the chalks and set everything down on the desk.
As she was about to sit, a luminescence caught her attention through the modest round window above the desk. The room was spacious, with three windows, but only one on the northern wall. Through its thick glass, it offered a view of the northern hills and between two of these, a patch of the tortured woods of Sij was visible.
Bending over the desk, Lyna brought her face close to the window. The light that had attracted her attention was already gone.
Had it been another wandering ghost?
Lyna sat down and stared at the dancing flame of the candle. Then, she flattened time, letting the sensation flood over her, relaxing her, fuelling her. The flame slowed and slowed until it was barely moving, its color mixing red and orange and yellow. Lyna drank from the sight, from the energy coursing through her. She ignored the presence of the core as best she could.
Then, she let go.
The candle flame oscillated and jumped, as if protesting against the restrain that had momentarily been imposed upon it. Lyna wondered why she fought against the need. It would all be over soon, so why not drink from it as much as she could? Why torture herself so?
Because of the guilt. A guilt she felt after each usage, a guilt just as painful as the need to use the power and just as confounding.
Lyna forced herself to think of the boy. She needed to help if she could. She wanted to make his life easier.
Taking one of the black chalk, she started to draw, slowly at first, then with more assurance as she remembered the details of the bracelet. She had studied it at length, while time had been at a standstill for Danor, and for the other boy spying from the building's roof.
Why had Danor not cared if he got hit by the bag coming from above? Why accept the punishment willingly? His posture had spoken of defeat, of the acceptance of defeat. Was it possible that his thoughts mirrored her own? Could one so young already be done with life? She hoped not.
Through the window, the glow reappeared. Instantly, Lyna stood, unlocked the round window and opened it. The cool air instantly infiltrated the room. Lyna pushed the desk aside and extended her head out, her sight glued to the strange light.
The luminosity fought against the darkness of the woods, trying to fly higher, but unable to do so; a poor swimmer in the middle of a raging ocean, trying to stay afloat but loosing the battle. Then, a wail reverberated, a sound different than the one she had heard the previous day. A cry of rage, instead of pain.
Lyna grabbed her blade and dashed out of the room.
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As she existed the inn, Lyna noticed that people had conglomerated. They stood all over the road, immobile and looking toward the north. The Territories of Sij could not been seen, but the lamentations had multiplied.
Lyna noticed that the innkeeper was standing beside the establishment's broken sign. "What's happening?" she asked.
"Hunger," said the innkeeper.
YOU ARE READING
Surrender (Book 1 of The Baneseeker Project)
FantasíaLyna, a lone young warrior sorceress, roams the world, hunting and destroying evil objects known as the bane cores, objects she alone can locate using an innate and unique power. Her next quarry lies in the isolated village of Tanasu, located at the...