Sound hushed to a ringing silence as Serenna’s breaths came shallow and quick, her terror morphing to fury at the helplessness. She instinctively craved to lash out with rending, to discharge her anger for everything she’d endured since portaling to this wasteland.
Reflexively reaching for her Well, an empty expanse answered her call. Serenna tunneled into the hollow cavern, delving deeper to where she knew her power should be. Except there was nothing. A sky devoid of stars. A magic tethered.
Serenna dug her nails into her palms. I’m not letting these monsters take me.
Steering her mind away from the horrors that awaited her if she failed, Serenna focused on the snow, falling into the world. Her vision went white, bursts of light exploding around her like a thousand rays of sun. Drifting, gliding across the wintery expanse, a wave of gleaming beams streamed out from every flake, every frozen drop of water.
Serenna heaved on the earth.
Snow exploded, geysering into the sky. Stumbling from the dislodged ground, Taryn released her. Throwing out a hand, Serenna yanked on streams of wind. Summoning the flakes into a blizzard, she aimed the cyclone at the reavers.
A shadow unfolded in front of Serenna, darkening her vision. The world went black as another warp yanked her into a pocket of midnight.
CHAPTER 33
SERENNA
The glass roof filtered in the cavern’s mirrored sunlight, brightly lighting the maze of rooms. Serenna didn’t register the nauseating mode of transport on the descent to the lower levels of the fortress. Fenn had snagged her from the chaos, warping them through one of the tunnel entrances.
Serenna crumpled onto a stool at the kitchen’s center island. Natural stone archways connected the adjacent chambers in the quiet villa. Stairways ascended to open lofted levels in a dwelling that could’ve rightfully been called a mansion.
Safe within his clan’s district, Fenn had shed his cloak and weapons. When he kindled a stove, tongues of flame dashed along the counter’s obsidian surfaces in coal-lined channels, encasing the room in warmth. Pulling leaves from bundles of dried herbs hanging in a pantry, Fenn busied himself with boiling water and steeping a brew.
Serenna stared at the grainy patterns in the wooden table in front of her, still frozen by disbelief. She sensed Fenn periodically glancing in her direction, his jewelry clinking together as he worked.
She tensed when he drifted next to her, talons tentatively grazing her shoulder. There was a hesitation to his question. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
Serenna dug her nails into her palms. The sting of pain hauled her thoughts away from the slashed throats and blood-stained snow. At a loss for words, her vision wavered, blurring when she met Fenn’s eyes.
I want to talk about putting an end to this senseless bloodshed. We both know it’s for nothing. But she doubted he’d be receptive to that response despite the concern on his face.
Choked by emotion, Serenna swallowed a spectrum of feelings that she wasn’t sure how to release. Voice abandoning her, she twisted her boots around the stool’s rungs. Brushing his knuckles across her arm, Fenn gave her space, wandering back to the stove.
Crackling from the coals shattered the silence as despondency settled over Serenna like a suffocating fog. Minutes passed before Fenn removed the steeping leaves, returning to the counter.
“I’m sorry you were in danger today,” he said, placing steaming porcelain mugs between them before pulling out a seat next to her. “That shouldn’t have happened on my watch. If I would’ve known—”
“I shouldn’t need anyone to come to my rescue,” Serenna interrupted, a tremor cracking her voice. “I have two types of magic, but I’m still helpless.” Her throat closed after the painful admission while she blinked at the curling vapor.
“You held your own, she-elf,” Fenn insisted, brows crowding together as he hunched over, peering into his tea. “You commanded the snows and bought us time to flee.”
Serenna fanned her gaze toward him. Fenn idly tilted his cup, rotating the liquid around the rim. Seeming to feel her attention, he lifted his eyes, meeting hers.
“If I wasn’t scared, if I’d acted sooner, the humans might still be alive.” Serenna’s hands trembled against the porcelain. “I could’ve done something.”
At odds with all of his piercings, Fenn’s face softened. “Regrets will dine on your mind if you invite them in. There’s a lesson in sorrow, but don’t allow your perceived failures to consume your thoughts.” Fenn shook his head, rings glittering in the firelight. “Never would I have expected a display like today.” The cup creaked when his claws flexed over the mug, knuckles leeching their color. “The reavers had no reason to slaughter those humans. It…wasn’t right.”
Serenna chewed her lip, reflecting on his words. He wasn’t callous—the reavers’ barbarity affected him too. The shared grief cracked open a tiny window of hope that they could somehow work together to prevent more death from occurring. Maybe Fenn would be willing to talk to Kal and Aesar. Since Lykor refuses to see reason.
Embracing the cup, Serenna’s hands soaked in the only warmth in a world gone cold. Sipping at her tea, lavender and mint bloomed on her tongue, accompanied by an earthy flavor.
“What kind of tea is this?” she asked, interrupting the heavy silence.
Fenn tensed before his gaze fell to the liquid’s golden surface. “It’s a blend my mother used to brew.”
Used to. Serenna’s heart twisted, the words hanging between them like the steam coiling above the mugs. Holding the tea to her chest, she inhaled the aroma.
“What…” she hesitated, unsure if he’d want to share something so personal with her. “What happened to your mother?”
Fenn scraped a talon around the rim of his teacup. “She didn’t return from your floating island. Along with two of my sisters.”
Stomach sinking, Serenna’s eyes fell to the counter as she scrubbed away stray tears. All of this strife is so pointless.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, resisting the urge to reach out, clenching her cup instead. Someone strong like him doesn’t need comfort. Serenna studied him out of the corner of her eye. Fortifying herself with a deep breath, she reconsidered. That might not be true.
Pulse ricocheting around her chest, Serenna touched Fenn’s arm before questioning the action any further. His skin almost dispensed more heat than the mug. He relaxed, muscles slackening on the table.
“You’re not the only one living with guilt,” Fenn said, his words softer than snowfall, hardly audible over the popping fire. “I should’ve fought alongside my clan that night, but I had something to prove, wanting to lead my own squadron.” His shoulders curved in, regret shadowing his face. “Taryn and the reavers blame Lykor for the failed assault. For the dead.” Fenn’s forearm stiffened under Serenna’s hand, claws resting on the table curling into fists. “In a way, I lost her that night too, when she joined them. Countless friends—most of my generation—have banded with Larek, forsaking their own clans in favor of his ruthlessness.”
“But Lykor has Essence,” Serenna pointed out, studying her elongated fingers on Fenn's arm. “The reavers can’t do anything to challenge him.” Her attention whipped to Fenn when she felt him watching her. Adrift in a sea of awkwardness that she’d inflicted upon herself with her lingering touch, Serenna jerked her hand back.
“One golden crossbow bolt would stifle Lykor’s magics,” Fenn said, angling toward her. “But the reavers still need him. They’re stranded in this fortress without his portals. It would take weeks of travel across the mountains to reach any of the mortal realms—if they even survived the journey. Last night at the Lagoon I heard…” Fenn’s eyes flared, glowing like flames. “If the reavers claim you, they’ll force you to use your earthen magics to navigate the wilds without Lykor.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “It’s my fault they know of it. I let what happened in the war room slip to someone I thought I could trust. I—I’m sorry.”
A knot of unease tangled in Serenna’s gut as they stared at each other in silence. That’s not exactly what I had in mind for escaping the stronghold. “Lykor wants the same of me, but I don’t see what I could possibly do on such a journey.”
“The world bowed to you today, did it not?” Fenn’s attention flicked to the smoldering coals, as if only now recalling Lykor’s order to keep her away from fire. “I’ve witnessed you twisting the winds and sundering the snows. If your magics are capable of melting a passage across the tundra or bolstering flames without kindling, that could be the difference between life and death in the Wastes.” Extending a claw, Fenn grazed the shackle on her wrist. “You possess a gift that we do not.” His words weren’t bitter, but they carried a tinge of remorse. “You’re not the only one who regrets not saving lives today.”
Serenna wondered if those like Fenn—born as wraith instead of transformed by the king—had a Well capable of holding power. Recalling a conversation with Jassyn, she assumed the druids’ curse would’ve prevented Fenn’s parents from conceiving if they’d remained pure-blooded elves.
Serenna’s heart pinched at the thought. The balance of life restored after so much had been stolen still seemed unjust.
The gloomy reality of the wraith’s origins clouded Serenna’s mood further. “What if we could bring an end to our people killing each other?” she dared to ask.
Fenn slid a talon into a crack in the counter, plucking at the wood. “I don’t see how that would be possible.”
Serenna probed, hoping desperation didn’t flood her voice. “What if I could tell those at Centarya the truth?”
“And go back to your island with our location?” Fenn grunted, dislodging a splinter. “Lykor wouldn’t stand for that—or portal you there.” Shoulders sinking, he shook his head. “Would they even believe you?”
Serenna held her tongue, fearing Fenn wouldn’t keep her secret if she divulged her bond with Vesryn.
“It would be too much of a risk,” Fenn continued more strongly, as if convincing himself. “I think the wraith are destined to brave the world alone. Lykor will find us a safe place. Away from the elves.”
“But what if you didn’t have to hide?” Serenna swirled the dregs of tea, gently prodding. As loyal as Fenn is to Lykor, surely he can see that the world doesn’t have to be this way. “The wraith and the elven-blooded could unite and stand against the king. We could stop him from stealing power and put an end to all of this meaningless fighting.”
Fenn grew pensive, picking at his claws. “I don’t disagree with you, but it’s an impossible path.”
Deciding against hounding Fenn with her wishful thinking, Serenna grew quiet, saving that battle for another day. Perhaps in time, she could kindle that spark of agreement flickering in his eyes.
