chapter 19

“That was your fastest mile yet,” Ryker says approvingly, ignoring my rasping breaths.

“You’re getting stronger,” Kaelin adds, handing me a cup of water, which I guzzle down as if I have been a victim of a lifelong drought.

I grunt and bulge my cheeks, rolling my eyes as I wash away the taste of blood on my tongue, something that still happens every time I run. It’s true that my endurance is growing less embarrassing, and my feet seem to fall easier into place, but I still despise it.

“Now,” Ryker claps, heaving me from the ground, “We’re trying something new.”

My eyes flash wide, and I shake my head frantically, “Ryker,” I moan, “You know I don’t even want to touch them!”

“I don’t give an orani's ass!” He snaps, “You’re trying them. You have to.”

“But why?” I winge, trying to dig my heels into the ground but making no effect against Ryker, who effortlessly drags me in front of the rack of bows.

“Because we need to know what we’re working with!” He huffs, snapping me back as I try to make a run for it, “You never know.”

Grumbling, I reluctantly pick up a bow. It is surprisingly light, but has a smooth sense of savagery, as if it desires to spill blood and break easily through skin. The wood of the limbs are almost like liquid, the dark-oak sleek and colored like fertile soil. The string is firm and tightened, the grip worn but strong.

I raise an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised, and accept the arrow Ryker hands over. Even the arrow somehow feels right, the shaft made of similar wood and the fletching of yellow feathers.

I lift my arms, the arrow in my left and bow in my right, and stand steady as Ryker walks me through the steps, aligning my limbs so my stance is perfectly set, my shoulder rolled back and fingers delicately securing the shaft of the agile arrow. He did not have to make many adjustments, quickly satisfied with the way I hold the unexpected weapon.

Before I can give myself the time to overthink, I release the arrow with my breath, the muscles in my arm pulling delightfully taught, only soothing when it flies across the room, embedding deep into the second circle of the target.

The room stays silent, Ryker’s mouth dropped open, and my lips pull into a marvelous smile. Picking up another arrow, this one a bit chipped at the sides, I notch it back in, this time knowing what I’m doing, and once again allow the arrow to fly.

It pierces the target, a fraction closer to the middle than the first, and Ryker at last breaks, whooping at the top of his lungs,

“What did I say, Fangera!” He cries, thrusting a fist into the air.

“Well done,” Kaelin smiles, making me flinch as he appears out of nowhere, “We should have forced you here months ago.”

Beyond pleased, I fire three more arrows, each digging in with surprising ease. Growing in confidence, I continue on all night, until even Ryker drops the floor, leaning against Kael with his mouth ajar. Kaelin reads from his book, glancing up once in a while to check my progress, allowing me to keep to myself, my self-esteem only growing with each soar of fluttering arrows.

After I have been working for hours, my blood turned to pride and arms numb of all feeling, Kaelin’s book snaps closed and he says with a fright,

“Fangera!” He yelps, scrambling to his feet, pushing Ryker to the floor, who stirs awake as he smashes into the ground, “Are you feeling alright?!”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Startled, I at last allow the bow to drop to my side, “Yes?” I say, unsure, “Why?”

“Look in the mirror!” Kael demands, pushing me in front of the tall, reflective wall.

Puzzled, even more at Ryker’s unbelieving gape as he rubs his smashed in face, I gaze at my reflection, and find just why. My hair has turned silver, my eyes shining bright, and the scars on my arms have almost faded out of sight.

My lips spread into a maniac grin, and I glance at the bow, clutched tightly in my fist. I then look up, and turn to the boys, who stand behind me, wearing expressions that are entirely unnerved.

“Well, boys,” I smile with full teeth, “There’s something I ought to tell you.”

⭒⭒⭒

“I still can’t believe you never said anything,” Ryker whines.

“It doesn’t really happen anymore,” I flush, “So why would it matter?”

“Why would it matter?!” Ryker gawks, looking to Kaelin for support, “Because that was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen! Even Nightawk is tame in comparison.”

My face boils and I glance at Kael, looking for the same as Ryker, but for an entirely different reason.

“Don’t look at me,” Kaelin keeps his eyes on the book, “I’m with Blackhorn.”

“Just don’t expect me to do it again,” I frown, standing on my toes to try and grab a book from the top of the shelf, “That was the first time I have in 10 years.”

“Why?” Ryker asks, crossing the room to pluck the tome for me, handing it over as I smile my thanks.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, lounging on the floor, my stomach pressed seamlessly into the soft rug, “It just started to disappear as I grew older.”

“You never thought about why?” Ryker pushes, sitting on the burgundy couch and resting his feet on my back.

I twist onto my side and his feet fall to the floor, “Of course I did,” I roll my eyes.

“And?” He continues, nudging my waist with his boot.

“And, I don’t know!” I groan, laying back on my chest, my hair falling to shield my face, “I mean, it wasn’t like I had the time to practice it.” I admit.

“Why?” Ryker asks again as I peel open my book.

“Gods,” I rub my temple, “You’re a man with a thousand questions tonight.”

“I’m just trying to understand,” Ryker huffs, “If I could do what you can, I wouldn’t stop for Helrion himself.”

“You better watch your tongue,” Kael tsks, flipping to another page, “Helrion could hear you. Unless Mae kills you first.” He pulls up to wink at me, quickly falling back to his precious tome.

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” Ryker gruffs, only allowing a minute of silence before muttering, “But I still think you should figure out why.”

I go to retort when the familiar sound of clicking stairs fills the silent room. We all sit upright, and I roll onto my knees, quick to come to a stand. Ryker lowers his hand to his side, where a shortsword is tucked near his thigh, and Kaelin puts the book under the chair, hidden by his shadows rather discreetly.

Just as I retreat in between the two seats, the door creaks open, and a man enters. He is just as I remembered him, even though I have only seen him once since our arrival; his hair is greying, giving a salt and pepper look, with yellow eyes that glow bright as lanterns despite the dimly lit room, and his face is scarred with a thick slash from his brow to his mouth, straight down his left eye.

As he pushes the door closed, he looks up and his steps stop cold. He watches us with that same unreadable look, his face blank and unnervingly cold. His posture is perfect, and holding a certain sense of dominance, despite having not said a word. He is the type who could break an unwilling prisoner, someone who could unlock their innermost secrets with a single, penetrating stare.

After assessing us for many moments, during which we have not made a sound, the Colonel at last opens his scarred mouth, and says in a voice as strong as black diamonds,

“So, you’ve found the Library of Layine.”

“Yes, sir,” Ryker says after a sharp breath, followed by Kael and my agreeing nods.

The Colonel observes us for many moments, his unwavering eyes seeming to drill a hole into my mind,

“I trust you will keep her secrets hers.” He says at last, waiting until we all nod our promise.

Satisfied, he strides to the other side of the room, his steps confident yet frighteningly unheard. He reaches the door and slips into the hall, and as he closes the door, he gives a quick turn,

“Goodnight, shayan,” he says as he departs, quick to disappear down the darkened hall.

After waiting for many minutes, in which I can clearly hear my heart frantically tick, Ryker releases a breath that had been wound tight,

“I thought we were goners,” he runs his fingers through his soft, black hair, “What does ‘shayan’ mean?”

I look to Kaelin, wondering the same. His fingers toy with his lips, revealing perfect, sparkling teeth,

“It is an old word,” he explains, “From the time of Rynevek, and his army of shadow walkers. It means warriors of the night, those who fight strongest under the moon's light.”