Chapter 8
The night dragged on, restless and unkind. Emma sat at her desk, fingers tracing the edge of the folded parchment. Its presence was like a weight pressing down on her chest, taunting her with the possibility of answers. Finally, with a trembling breath, she unfolded it.
The handwriting was precise, the ink dark and bold against the parchment. It spoke of an observation—a watchman stationed at one of the outer posts, tasked with monitoring the unstable magic rifts that had begun to tear through the fabric of their world. Strange occurrences were not uncommon, but this was different.
The report detailed how a rift had opened along the icy northern pass. The watchman had seen a woman emerge from the crackling void, her dark hair whipping around her as if the air itself bent to her will. She was injured, staggering but determined. And worse, she was not alone.
The watchman’s words were laced with dread. A shadowed figure had followed her through the rift, its presence more felt than seen, but its hunger palpable. The woman had fled into the wilderness, her steps desperate, as if aware she was being hunted.
Regina.
Emma’s breath caught. The descriptions were vague, but they painted a picture vivid enough to make her hands tremble. If Regina was mixed up in whatever darkness Eryndra feared, then Emma had to find her. She couldn’t leave her alone to face whatever twisted power had taken root in the realm.
Her fingers curled into fists, determination flaring bright and unrelenting. She folded the parchment and tucked it into the pocket of her trousers. Whatever Eryndra and Calder were hiding, she was done waiting.
The following morning, Emma awoke before the sun had fully risen. The air was cool and heavy with the scent of earth and mint. She moved stiffly, her muscles sore from the previous day’s training, but the pain was secondary to her need to act.
Pushing open her door, she strode down the dimly lit corridors until she found herself at the entrance of the training chamber. To her surprise, Calder was already there, his body moving through a series of fluid motions with a wooden staff. His movements were graceful despite his size, his strikes precise and controlled.
“You’re up early,” Calder remarked without turning, his voice carrying easily across the chamber.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Emma’s tone was clipped, her frustration still simmering beneath the surface.
He lowered his staff and turned to face her. “Something on your mind?”
Emma met his gaze, her eyes hard. “Why are you keeping me here?”
Calder sighed, his expression cautious. “We’re not keeping you here, Emma. We’re trying to make sure you don’t get yourself killed chasing ghosts.”
“She’s not a ghost,” Emma shot back. “And if you know anything about her, you need to tell me.”
“What makes you think I know more than you do?” Calder asked, his voice calm but probing.
“Because you and Eryndra keep talking about protecting me and her. And because you’re too good at dodging questions.”
Calder’s jaw tightened. “You’re not ready.”
“For what?”
“To face what’s out there. To face her.”
Emma’s chest tightened. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“Neither do you,” Calder replied. “Your body’s barely holding itself together, and your mind is even worse. You think just because you want something bad enough you can make it happen?”
“Yes,” Emma said fiercely. “That’s exactly what I think.”
Calder’s gaze softened, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I get it. You think I don’t, but I do. But this isn’t just about you. And if you rush out there half-broken, you’ll be doing more harm than good. To yourself and to her.”
Emma’s anger faltered, replaced by a surge of helplessness. “So, what? I just stay here and wait? Let you and Eryndra make all the decisions for me?”
“No,” Calder said, his voice steady. “You get stronger. You prepare. And when you’re ready, I’ll help you find her. But only when you’re ready.”
Emma’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her. “And how will I know when I’m ready?”
A small smile tugged at Calder’s lips. “You’ll know. Trust me, you’ll know.”
The next weeks stretched into a grueling blur of sweat and pain. Eryndra’s relentless training regimen was merciless, forcing Emma to confront her own fragility. Her muscles screamed with every movement, her hands rubbed raw from gripping the wooden staff until her fingers bled.
But it was her mind that suffered most. The frustration coiled within her chest like a living thing, thrashing against her ribs. She had been a warrior once, fierce and unyielding. Now, her own body betrayed her with its weakness.
Every night, Emma dreamt of Regina. Saw her stumbling through icy landscapes, chased by shadows Emma could not reach. She awoke gasping, her skin clammy, her fists clenched so tightly her nails cut into her palms.
The days bled into each other, Calder’s constant presence becoming both an irritation and a comfort. His sharp words and blunt honesty cut through her anger, forcing her to face her own limitations. And beneath his rough exterior, Emma could sense something broken within him, a pain he kept locked away with practiced ease.
One evening, after a particularly brutal session, Emma collapsed onto the training chamber floor, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Her arms felt like lead, the wooden staff slipping from her fingers as she lay there, eyes shut tight against the searing ache.
“You’re getting better,” Calder noted, tossing her a flask of water. His voice was almost gentle, though his eyes held their usual guarded intensity.
“Good enough to leave?” Emma asked, her voice hoarse. Her own words tasted bitter, laced with a desperation she could not hide.
“Not yet. But soon.”
Emma’s jaw clenched. “Soon” was a hollow promise, a word that dangled just out of reach, always promising something it never delivered. It wasn’t good enough.
Her frustration grew, a festering wound that would not heal. She felt herself unraveling with every passing day, anger and helplessness gnawing at her resolve. And always, the image of Regina fleeing, hunted by darkness, haunted her thoughts.
The fortress buzzed with whispers of danger, of shadows creeping ever closer. Messengers arrived at odd hours, their reports causing Eryndra’s face to grow tighter, her instructions more urgent.
Emma couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever Eryndra and Calder thought of her readiness didn’t matter. Regina was out there, lost and alone. And Emma would find her.
With or without their help.
It was the dead of night when Emma crept through the stone corridors. Every muscle was taut, her senses honed by weeks of training. The hallways were eerily quiet, her footsteps swallowed by the dark.
She slipped past the guards with ease, her body moving on instinct, heart pounding with every step. When she reached the outer courtyard, the chill of the night air stung her lungs, but she pushed forward.
Freedom lay just beyond the iron gates. And somewhere beyond those gates, Regina.
But as Emma approached the exit, a figure emerged from the shadows. Calder. His eyes were cold, his posture unyielding.
“You really thought I wouldn’t see this coming?”
Emma’s fists clenched around her pack’s straps. “Move.”
“Not happening.”
“You said you’d help me when I was ready.”
“You’re not ready,” Calder replied, his voice roughened by anger. “You’re just desperate.”
Emma stepped forward; her jaw clenched. “Desperate’s all I’ve got.”
Calder’s expression hardened. “Then you’re not going anywhere.”
Emma stared at him, her body trembling from anger and exhaustion. “I can’t just stay here. I won’t.”
“Then prove it,” Calder challenged. “Show me you’re ready, and I’ll be the first to help you. But until then, this is where you stay.”
Emma’s shoulders sagged, her frustration boiling over. “Fine. You want proof? I’ll give you proof.”
Calder nodded slowly. “Then we start tomorrow. At dawn.”