A Court of Worlds and Eternities (Book IV: Part II)

Chapter 9

Lowen and Azriel changed and headed downstairs. As they descended, the delightful aroma of breakfast greeted them. A lavish spread had magically appeared on the dining table, courtesy of the house's unseen mechanisms. Lowen murmured a quiet thank you to the house, appreciative of the seamless comfort it provided.

They sat down together, enjoying the array of dishes laid out before them. The meal was a quiet affair, with fresh fruits, warm pastries, and a variety of eggs and meats artfully arranged on the table. The morning light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the food, making it look even more inviting. They ate peacefully, savoring each bite.

Outside, the sounds of training drifted in through the open windows. Cassian, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and the priestesses were already hard at work in the training grounds, their figures moving dynamically across the grounds.

After finishing their breakfast, Lowen and Azriel prepared to head outside. As they approached the door, Lowen playfully knocked her head against Azriel's.

"Kick Cassian's ass in training," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I'll be back to pick you up within the hour."

Azriel nodded, just as Cassian's voice carried over from the training grounds.

"You're late!" he called out, a teasing edge to his voice.

"I was helping him with his warm-up inside," Lowen shot back with a grin.

Cassian's laughter rang out, his grin wide and knowing.

"Yeah, Nesta and I heard your 'warm-up' loud and clear earlier," he jested, making Azriel chuckle and a light blush spread across his cheeks.

"Don't worry, next time you can join in the warm-up," Lowen playfully added, snickering.

Her comment caught the attention of Emerie and Gwyn, who perked up with interest.

"We want to warm up with you too," Gwyn chimed in innocently, causing Cassian to laugh even harder and Nesta to blush a soft pink.

With a final chuckle, Lowen turned to head for the steps leading down to the town. Meanwhile, Azriel walked over to join Cassian and Nesta, ready to start the sessions.

Just as they were about to begin, one of the priestesses screamed, her voice sharp with alarm, pulling everyone's attention abruptly towards her.

As the priestess pointed, everyone's gaze followed. The air hung heavy with tension as a body suddenly hit the ground with a horrifying thud a few feet away from the group. For a moment, everyone froze, the silence broken only by the sound of harsh breaths.

Lowen stared, her heart skipping a beat as the body twitched slightly. Then, with immense effort, Mor began to rise, her appearance shocking. Her body was battered and bloody, clothes torn, with grim evidence of a brutal ordeal. Clutched tightly in her arms was Nyx, nestled protectively against her chest.

Azriel and Cassian immediately charged forward, screaming her name.

"Mor!" they yelled in unison, fear lacing their voices.

Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn hurried behind, equally alarmed.

Azriel reached Mor first and dropped to his knees beside her. His eyes widened in horror as he took in the extent of her injuries. A deep, gruesome stab wound gaped at her side, bleeding profusely, the blood staining her already crimson-soaked clothes. Other wounds littered her body as well. Her face was pale, a stark contrast to the darkening bruises that marred her skin, including the most noticeable around her throat.