Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Elara’s voice was quiet. “Are you saying this healer is a witch and gets her power from dark magic?”
Feena’s lips curved faintly. “What truly is a witch? Is it a term given by men who fear knowledgeable women? Or is it a powerful gift not given but earned by women who spread such knowledge and sees that it takes root and flourishes.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And then, my dear lass, there are those rare few born with the gift, the power.”
A long silence stretched between them. Elara’s pulse quickened, the faintest chill creeping up her spine.
Feena’s eyes softened. “She would know when the world began to change around her. When what she touched ceased to fade and what she feared refused to die. She would know when her time came to reveal herself and do what she must.”
Elara looked into the flames, her breath shallow. She wanted to ask more, to demand it, but the words tangled in her throat.
Behind them, Adira moved quietly, sweeping the fallen herbs into her palm, her face peaceful, not having heard a word. She glanced toward them once, curiosity flickering in her eyes before returning to her work.
Elara could not imagine what life must be like for the young woman, trapped inside herself, never able to hear or be heard. It took courage to live such a challenging life, and it gave her the strength to ask, “What is it this powerful healer must do?”
Feena’s tone turned softer. “It is good you ask questions. Questions keep the heart alive. But that is a question we all wonder. What will this healer do if the king finds her? Only she knows that or perhaps she will not know until it comes to pass.”
“Why does she wait when so many healers suffer?” Elara asked.
“Again, only she knows that.”
Elara shook her head. “I must continue to search for her. If you were me, where would you look next?”
Feena smiled, a tired, knowing smile. “You’ll not find what you seek by chasing stories. You’ll find it by listening to what’s already stirring in you. That’s where truth hides, in the things we fear to name.”
Feena’s gaze lingered on Elara for a long while, the firelight soft against the lines of her face.
“You’ve a restless gift,” Feena said at last. “I can see it in your eyes. You fight it when you should be listening to it.”
“My visions,” Elara said, feeling comfortable admitting it to the old woman. “They come without warning. They frighten me.”
“Then call to them,” Feena said, her tone gentle but firm. “Summon them before they summon you. Power grows wild when it’s left untended. If you face it, if you learn its rhythm, it will guide you instead of rule you.”
Elara’s breath caught. “And if others learn of it?”
Feena shook her head slowly. “Tell no one—not yet. The world is not kind to what it fears, and it has feared such visions far too long.”
“I already told Dar,” Elara admitted softly.
Feena’s eyes warmed with a faint, knowing smile. “Aye, I thought you might. He is your destiny, that one, but not before he disappoints you.”
Elara frowned, worried hearing such a warning for a second time. “Disappoints me?”
Feena reached out, resting a light hand over Elara’s. “He’ll not want to, lass. But the path between truth and loyalty is never straight. Still, hold fast to the truth that he cares for you more than he realizes or will admit, and he will protect you when you need him most. Remember that when doubt about him finds you.” A weary sigh escaped her then, and she rose, joints creaking like old wood. “Enough words for one morning.”
She took her cloak from the peg by the door and draped it around her shoulders and fastened the ties at her throat, then reached for another one hanging beside it. She slipped it gently around Adira’s thin frame, fastened the ties and took her hand.
Patting her own chest and smiling gently at the mute lass, she spoke so Elara would understand. “I’m telling her all will be well.”
Feena’s fingers tightened briefly on the girl’s hand before she gestured toward the door. “Come, let’s enjoy the chill of autumn.”
Elara stood, her thoughts still tangled in Feena’s words. She crossed to the door, her hand on the latch, and opened it, only to stumble back, a gasp breaking from her throat.
The morning light spilled over a line of dark figures standing just beyond the cottage’s fence… Hunters, their black leather stark against the mist.
And in the lead stood Dar, clean shaven and garbed in the black leather of a Hunter.
Chapter Eleven
Village of Barloch
The Road to Caerith
* * *
For a moment, Elara couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could barely focus.
A cloudy sky hung over the Hunters who stood in formation, as still as carved stone, their dark garments glistening faintly with dew. The faint metallic scent of oiled leather and iron filled the air.