Wind Wielder

Chapter 8 - The Fox's Den

PART TWO: The Reckoning

Zara Aphelion did not expect to wake again.

So when she did, the first thing she felt was dread. Dread because her entire body was filled with that familiar ache. The ache that reminded Zara of that god awful day in the temple when she had first lost control.

The second thing Zara felt was pain. Lots of it. Zara couldn't stop the garbled cry that escaped her mouth as her body came back to her. As Zara felt the remnants of that lightning filling every pore of her body, filling her from Zara's fingertips to her toes. Her lightning.

Zara Aphelion was a lightning wielder.

And it was the biggest secret that she had kept her whole life. The inadvertent reason Zara had landed Under the Mountain in the first place. Lightning wielders were extremely rare amongst wind wielders, the last documented one being born millenia ago, around the time of the warrior God Enalius. If wind wielders were bedtime stories or legends, then lighting wielders were the hastily scribbled footnote at the bottom of the legend text, so dangerous they were forgotten on purpose.

Many believed they no longer existed, that lightning wielders had died out with the Gods. And even back then, people had done awful, terrible things, to ensure they could capture a lightning wielder. Rulers had destroyed entire cities to capture just one. To ensure they had a lightning wielder under their thrall to help them deliver victory on the battlefield, and to discipline their subjects through fear and wrath. If anyone in the last millenia had written about a lightning wielder, it was likely advising to kill them, to make sure there would be no reason for such quarrels to break out over one coveted individual ever again.

It was exactly the reason Zara had planned on dying with this secret. Or at the very least, dying whilst revealing the secret.

Except, Zara was still alive. And that posed a momentous problem.

Zara's mouth was filled with the taste of metal and bitterness, as if even her taste buds had not been saved from the wrath of her lightning, burnt and nullified. Zara opened her eyes slowly, taking in the light that seared her eyes.

The room was not what she expected.

It was not the pinks, purples and golds Zara had become accustomed to at home, nor the dark colors of the Night Court tents she had been staying in. Rather, maroon walls with deep mahogany wooden panels encased the night chamber Zara occupied. Accent colors of yellow, red, and deep green were scattered around the room in fine linens and pillows covering the extravagant wooden furniture. It was clearly not Dawn Court, nor the Night Court. But the color scheme was familiar. Meaning...

"I was wondering when you would awaken." A smooth male voice called from the door. Zara snapped her head towards it so fast, her vision momentarily faded to black as pain clouded her senses and made her ears ring even more than they already were. Zara groaned, gripping the sheets. When her vision returned, Zara was rewarded with the sight of her savior.

Fine polished boots covered his shins nearly all the way to his knees, which were dressed in fine pressed brown pants. His muscular yet lithe torso was covered in an immaculately tailored crimson tunic and jacket, proudly bearing the colors of his Court. His handsome pale face was cleanly shaven, no sign of the auburn hair he bore on his head anywhere on his strong chin. That infuriating smirk was plastered there, clear as the smug amusement in his russet eyes.

"Hello, Eris." Zara rasped.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. Or should I say afternoon?" Eris replied, clasping his hands behind his back and striding into the room. Zara tensed as he came closer, though from the horrendous ache wracking her body she could do nothing as he came and stood at her bedside. Unease swirled in Zara's gut.