Nerin's arm ached. Rina had put more snow on it that morning and while it helped a little, it still burned. He hadn't looked at it properly since it happened, knowing that if he did, he would vomit. It looked nothing like the burns that those at the Sanctum had, but it was all he was reminded of every time he looked at it.
He hadn't said much since it happened. He was angry and hurt and he didn't want to speak because of it. Rina had tried to talk to him a few times, tried to explain that it wasn't Isiah's fault. He knew that, but it didn't stop him from being angry. The pain was constant and until it faded, his anger would be constant too.
His uncle's home wasn't far. He had no idea exactly how long they had to go, but he knew they were close. Despite the snow that blanketed everything, he was warm. He might be angry at Isiah and the stone, but he had to admit that it was useful. Only Sol and Lune knew what would have happened to them if they didn't have it.
Isiah walked nearby, a faint glow coming from his pocket. He'd tried to talk to him that morning, but Nerin hadn't let him say more than two words before storming off. It had been an accident. He'd gotten excited about Isiah being able to use the stone's power and it had surprised him. The only person he could really blame was himself.
The worst part about his injury, aside from the pain, was that Isiah had hit his sword arm. It would have been so much worse if Rina hadn't grabbed him. But it meant that he couldn't train properly until he healed up completely. He could use his other arm, but he wouldn't be as good, not that he was any good in the first place.
Rina was a good teacher, but a strict one. She had him doing the same exercise over and over again, but he didn't see the point in it. There had to be some reason for it, but he hadn't figured it out yet. He wouldn't any time soon, not with his arm.
He was glad that Isiah had been able to figure out how to use the stone, even at the detriment of Nerin's arm. Even though he was upset, he wasn't going to let Isiah stop using it. If he was right and he was the Beast that was Promised, then he needed to learn to use his power as soon as possible.
Thick dark clouds covered the sky, casting shadows over the quiet snowy road they walked on. It crunched loudly under his feet, one of the few noises in the leaf-stripped forest. He let out a yawn. Sleep had eluded him for the most part. Every time he drifted off, he rolled onto his injured arm and woke up again. He was exhausted. The second they arrived at Uncle Turian's home, he would sleep.
He wasn't the only one who seemed exhausted. Rina yawned after him and rubbed at her eyes. Sleep had been hard to come by on their travels. They would all need rest when they made it to the laboratory. If his uncle allowed them to stay.
He was sure he would. Turian loved him. He allowed Nerin to spend most of his holiday reading in the library and ignoring the world around him. If Nerin told him the truth, Turian would hopefully help them. But there was always a chance that he would turn them in, send Nerin back to Ishmar and order Rina and Isiah to be killed. He was a prince too after all, even though he didn't get along with Nerin's father.
If there was a hint of Turian wanting to turn them in, they would have to run and hope that there weren't any guards nearby. Turian didn't keep guards at the library; he'd always told Nerin that he didn't see the point. He knew how to fight and so did his apprentice, they could protect themselves.
Ahead of him, Rina made a strange noise. At first, he thought she'd been hurt, but then she pointed at something above the trees. Smoke rose towards the clouds, barely visible against the grey. Nerin let out a sigh of relief and ran a hand down his face. They were nearly there. He could finally sleep properly and get some medicine for his arm.
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A Betrayal of Faith ✔
Fantasy[LGBTQ+ FANTASY] [VISHERA CHRONICLES BOOK ONE] For ten years the nations of Brenmar and Minisia have been on the brink of destruction, but when a newly crowned King demands a peace treaty, most believe that war will never come to pass. Isiah, an ap...