Years ago, the Trolls were banished into the Nether, a void of evil and darkness between the magical realms. With their greed and treachery locked away, peace has reigned throughout the worlds. But not for nineteen-year-old witch, Aramina. Being dis...
To get to the faeries, we need to once again travel the troll lands and then cross a valley of ice and snow to Forever. Unfortunately, rain meets us when we cross the bridge and coupled with the freezing temperatures as we move closer to the faeries lands, we're forced to take a break. Thankfully we come across another old troll temple just as the icy rains intensify to blinding sheets of white. But while I'm grateful for the shelter, I don't know how to feel about being alone with Roane again.
I'm not frightened of him; he released the Shadowmen and returned to his normal state. But he's a prince. The prince. Every conversation we ever had, every battle we fought side by side...every time we Shared, and he never bothered to tell me that it's him who's expected to take on the darkness. I try to look at the bigger picture, but his omission echoes between us.
I lay down on the altar. Roane stays fixed by the door. Thunder rumbles, but between us, there's only silence. What feels like an hour passes and the rain shows no signs of letting up. Roane abandons his post by the door and within minutes has stacked a pile of wood and kindling before the altar where I lay.
"We should camp here for the night," he says. Taking a cobwebbed covered bowl and urn, he brushes off the dust and sets them outside.
I walk to the door and peek to the black skies. Lightning frames the clouds that shift quickly across the sky at the hands of the gusting winds. Still, I shrug. "I'd rather keep going."
"It's too dangerous. We can hardly see what's out there."
I chuckle bitterly. "What difference does it make? I didn't see what was in front of me this entire time."
He meets my eyes at that, his mouth flat. "Fair enough, but however you feel right now isn't going to change the weather. Walking out there blind will only get you sick or us killed."
He's right, but I'm angry so I walk back into the altar and away from him. It hurts to be near him, it hurts that through it all, he didn't feel confident enough to trust in me. It hurts that I care so much for someone again that I'm set to lose.
Roane tosses one final plank onto the pile and kneels before it. He cups his fingers over it. A spark of fire snaps from his hand, and the next moment, a raging flame burns before me.
But again, I'm angry and so I lay back and scoff. "You're not supposed to use magic for personal gain... white magic, anyway."
He stands and gazes down into the fire. "I'm not," he says, his voice low and hurt. With no more words, he walks out into the cold and rain.
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A jolt wakes me, as does Roane's far away voice. My bones ache from all of the fighting and running, and my mind has a hard time registering what Roane says. I open my eyes and bolt upward. Men dressed in white robes encircle us, tall and threatening. The moonlit radiance of their skin spirals into the fading night like wisps of smoke. They look to be borne of snow, and their expressions etched of ice. I want to be scared, but they're so beautiful I can only stare.
