Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
His words send an icy chill down my spine, bringing me back to the reality of our situation. Freedom to use my powers, maybe—but only because we're facing a threat so deadly that exposure becomes the lesser danger.
"Then we'd better be prepared," I say, reaching for a finely crafted rapier among the other weapons. The leather hilt is soft and warm against my palm, the steel edge and tip wickedly sharp. I test its weight, finding it perfectly balanced. "One real weapon each, and we sabotage the rest?"
Mireen nods, her eyes lighting up with a mixture of determination and grim satisfaction.
Everyone steps forward and claims a sharpened, weighted version of their weapon of choice to replace their blunted and lighter training weapons. Ambrose picks up a weapon for Beck and Brunhild to deliver to them later. Raith collects a few extras for his fires as well.
"Ollie. Do your thing," Mireen says. The small elemental materializes in a swirl of blue energy.
"Typhon," I add, glancing at my elemental who hovers nearby in his flying fish disguise.
"It is beneath my dignity," Typhon grumbles in my mind. "But I suppose I can assist. Though I would rather simply devour all the weapons. And possibly the humans who would wield them against you."
"Subtlety, Typhon. We're going for subtlety."
"Subtlety is overrated," he replies, but drifts toward the weapons rack anyway.
Ambrose examines the cache methodically, his eyes widening at the quality of the steel as the elementals get to work.
"Definitely military grade," Raith says, holding a flat sword in one hand and testing its weight before setting it back down.
"Expensive," Ambrose agrees, lifting a long knife and checking its balance. "Someone with resources is backing Malakai. The cost to buy all this? It would fund the construction of a small estate. And that's not mentioning the political power needed to make it happen."
Typhon and Ollie target the metal's structural integrity, inducing rust that spreads from within like a disease. Typhon, despite his complaints, proves remarkably effective at weakening blades by altering their internal structure without visible signs.
Raith tests their work, lightly swinging a sword against the stone floor, where it shatters into dust upon impact. "Good," he says, pursing his lips appreciatively.
"Twenty-eight daggers, fifteen swords, twelve bows with arrows—all compromised," Ambrose recites with quiet satisfaction. "Should significantly reduce casualties during the Crucible."
"No," Raith says, still inspecting his new sword. "It just changes who dies."
"But if we win the fight against Malakai,” Mireen says. “We'll have the windborne to deal with..."
She’s right. If Serena’s right, then the Crucible is a fight for something bigger than any of us. A fight powerful people don’t want us to survive.
Raith speaks, voice quiet but everybody’s attention snaps to him. “We’ll fight. It’s all we can do. We know the stakes. We know what’s coming. The only thing we can do is show up and fucking face it.”
Typhon suddenly goes alert, his small fish form darting in agitated circles. "Someone approaches," he warns, his mental voice sharp with urgency.
"Typhon says someone's coming."
We all freeze, weapons still in hand, caught red-handed in the midst of our sabotage.
A moment later, Brunhild's signal—three quick taps followed by two slow ones—sounds from the corridor outside.
"Trouble," Raith translates, already moving toward the door. "We need to go."
We quickly slip out of the hidden chamber. Brunhild meets us in the corridor, her body tense with urgency. Even she, normally so stoic, looks concerned.
"Guards find Beck's water trick," she says, her accent thicker with stress. "He runs, they chase. Alarm bells soon."
"Beck?" Mireen whispers urgently. "Is he okay?"
"Fast runner," Brunhild replies with a shrug that does little to calm our nerves. "Maybe okay."
As if on cue, the distant clang of warning bells begins to echo through the castle, the sound reverberating through the stone walls like a heartbeat. We break into a run, taking a different route back than the one we came by.
"Split up," Raith orders as we reach a junction where four corridors meet. "Get back to your rooms and we'll meet tomorrow."
Mireen and Ambrose nod, each taking a different path without hesitation. Brunhild frowns, looking between us.
"Go," I tell her. "Find Beck if you can."
She nods, relief clear in her blue eyes. "Will find sexy bear. Keep him safe." Then she's gone at a full sprint.
I turn to take the eastern path, but before I can move, Raith's hand catches mine, pulling me close for just a moment. His fingers intertwine with mine, squeezing once.
"Be careful," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. His free hand brushes my cheek in a touch so tender it makes my heart stutter. "I'll find you tomorrow."
And then we're separating, running in different directions, melting into the shadows of Confluence as the alarm bells finally cease. I clutch my stolen daggers, feeling their weight against my body as I race through the dark corridors.