-New Reign-

“The settlements to the north and east of us are growing anxious,” a tall man with a mustache that outdid itself said.

“There are tales of Jadelin attacks in Whisten,” another at the table added.

“And Ananth has continued to grow distant,” a woman reported.

“But the Jadelin have remained neutral, practically invisible, for decades. Why would they strike now?”

Ryn Ashten, the woman with brilliant red hair who had greeted Drew the night before, scoffed at the man’s comment but said nothing.

“Perhaps they realize the Ruins have only grown and we’ve become few in number.”

“And then there are rumors of Forlorn rebels in the north.”

That seemed like Drew’s cue to join in on the conversation. He’d only arrived the night before, but Ryn Ashten had wasted no time shoving him into Forlorn politics.

In a way, it felt like being home at Mount Solis—a group of intelligent people sitting around a table inside a towering structure high above the ground and discussing the state of Ealias.

“Could I interject?” he asked, feeling inwardly self-conscious even as he tried to project confidence like Acelin.

“Of course, Lineal,” the man with the mustache said. Ryn Ashten had mentioned their names. Drew had promptly forgotten.

“I come from Ananth, and the Forlorn there are just as loyal to your cause as the people living here in Deporta. True, the settlement has slowly begun to expand east, toward Trucesa, but I haven’t detected any Trucesan customs creeping in.”

Drew personally knew none of this. But Acelin’s ally had spies, and they had been watching Whisten, Deporta, and Ananth, the remaining Forlorn cities after the tragic infighting which had led to the large expanse of Ruins to the south, Ruins that encompassed the first Forlorn capital which had been abandoned hundreds of years ago.

“And as for these so-called rebels you mentioned,” he bowed his head slightly toward a tall woman with black hair, “I’ve traveled north and never seen anything but acres of the thickest forests I’ve ever seen.

“I know nothing about the Jadelin, however.”

Which was finally the truth. Neither Drew or any of the Reapers had any information regarding the lost race. Most people believed they’d faded into the woods and died out over the years—that is, if they hadn’t been just a legend to begin with.

“Thank you for your insights, Lineal,” Ryn Ashten said. Drew couldn’t put his finger on it, but she seemed familiar for some reason. Maybe she reminded him of someone back at Mount Solis—he wasn’t sure.

She flipped her thick, coppery red hair over her back before standing and addressing the room. “And of course, our greatest concern is the continued absence of our true lineal. The people here in Deporta are aware of his departure. Thankfully we have found a temporary replacement in the form of Drew Thorne, who comes recommended from a trusted source. He must be immediately presented to the Forlorn in the official lineal ceremony.”

A party just for me? You shouldn’t have.

“Agreed,” several voices said in unison.

“Our raisling will prepare Thorne for the ceremony, which will take place tomorrow morning in the courtyard. Castle will inform the people today of the upcoming ceremony.”

A slender woman with large, innocent gray eyes and light auburn hair that hung down to her waist nodded.

“We will conclude our meeting for now. Please continue to monitor Whisten and Ananth for future developments.”

As Ryn Ashten finished speaking the various members of the meeting filtered out of the room, one of the many in the Octurn. Soon the only ones remaining were Ryn, Drew, and the mysterious raisling—the head of the Forlorn Academy.

Turning to face Drew and the raisling, she said, “Raisling, do you need anything for the upcoming ceremony? I know it has been taxing to prepare so many ceremonies in such a short period of time…”

Drew’s thoughts wandered as he looked out of the Octurn at the sprawling city below. The entire lightstruck tower was constructed from glass, so he had an unparalleled view of Deporta. From eight angles no less. Heavy rain had begun falling during the meeting, so the glass surface was blurry and distorted—Drew could only make out colors and shapes in the mist.

He hadn’t gotten to set foot in the city yet. This meeting had been his first order of business after being shown his room in another section of the tower and attempting to sleep.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Thorne, we will conduct your preparations at the academy,” the raisling said. Drew had expected a much older man or woman to be raisling of the Forlorn Academy, but the man standing before him had to be close to his age. His hair was close to black, and his silver eyes were as unreadable as the rest of his closed-off features.

He kind of looked like Drew’s darker counterpart—the two could have passed as brothers.

“How will we get there?” Drew asked. The academy was as far from Deporta as the settlement of Whisten. Walking would take all day. Drew didn’t know how the Forlorn traveled between the various locations.

“Rowder. I’ve heard you’re familiar with that form of transportation.”

Drew nodded.

“Thank you for your help, Raisling.” With that, Ryn Ashten withdrew, and it was only Drew and the raisling.

Without much more than a glance in his direction, the man swept from the room, Drew following close behind. He lost track of the twists and turns before they finally entered a room with a sprawling balcony to the outside.

Waiting there was the second most beautiful rowder Drew had ever seen. It had perfectly white, pale scales and its head feathers were pearl-colored. Like Isle’s perfect black coloring, the rowder was completely white, a rare happenstance.

The rowder chirped with pleasure when it caught sight of its rider. Drew could have sworn he saw the hint of a smile on the raisling’s marble-like features. The man approached the rowder with surprising gentleness, rubbing her head and neck before mounting. Once he was situated he gestured for Drew to mount behind him.

The moment Drew had clambered onto the rowder’s back, they took to the gray skies.

“What’s its name?” Drew asked, nearly shouting to be heard above the wind.

“His name is White,” the raisling said simply, and then they were diving down over the city and Drew couldn’t find the breath to do more than observe the tangled streets and buildings; the blurred figures of men, women, and children walking through the streets; the sparks of every imaginable shade of Orenda. So much life crowded into one space was strangely beautiful, despite the chaos that clearly reigned. And to see other people with the same strange powers as him…

The raisling was a silent traveling companion, although he clearly reveled in riding his rowder as much as Drew enjoyed flying with Isle. The man was dressed completely in black, a perfect contrast to White. Despite dreading the upcoming ceremony and what it would possibly entail, Drew lost himself in the simple freedom of flight, gazing at the world below as it passed by like a dream.

***

Drew stood in the academy courtyard with the raisling. White had landed and lingered only long enough to nudge the man with his large, pearly head before taking to the skies once more.

Various weapons hung on a cobbled rock wall in front of them, giving Drew the impression that the courtyard was typically used for weapon instruction and skirmishes.

He recognized most of them—greatswords, spears, battle axes, daggers, slender blades. Some weapons, however, he had never seen before.

“First, a basic demonstration of your weapon and Orenda mastery. All lineals are required to be a master in at least one of the two forms. Our former lineal was one of the most powerful Orenda bearers I have ever seen. Others in the past have been deadly with a certain weapon.”

Without warning, the raisling removed his heavy black cloak and unsheathed twin blades.

“Choose your weapon.”

Drew looked at the dark-eyed man in alarm. Acelin had insisted Drew train with several different weapon types until he was at least comfortable with them, but he hadn’t specialized in any of them. Racking his mind, he looked over at the selection of weapons, struggling to decide which would serve him best against twin blades. They were much thinner than the blade of a greatsword, but Drew knew from sparring with Nicolle on occasion that two lighter, thinner swords could mean a massive advantage in combat. The raisling would move fast and hit hard.

“You were trained in weaponry, surely? Someone so highly recommended must have special skills indeed, especially since all Forlorn are trained here, at the academy, a place I am sure you have never set foot in until today.”

The raisling was taunting him, trying to rush Drew into making a gut decision without thinking it through. Looking through the weapons once more, Drew couldn’t help but feel that they were all wrong. None of them would keep the man far enough away for his blades not to have a huge advantage.

Inwardly sighing, Drew reached for two javelins.

Clearly the raisling thought Drew’s choice absurd, because he laughed, a cold sound that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Begin.”

The raisling was a whirlwind, ferociously pushing Drew back right from the start. His twin blades moved almost too quickly for Drew to follow. Crossing the javelins in front of him, he managed to hold his ground as the twin blades clashed against Drew’s defenses, taking a bite out of the wood.

“This is the next lineal of all the Forlorn?” the raisling mocked, readjusting his stance like lightning and forcing Drew back this time as his weapons took another beating.

If something didn’t change soon, Drew would be left with two piles of splinters and nothing to keep those twin blades from reaching him.

“I thought you were supposed to be preparing me for a ceremony, not slicing me up for your next meal,” Drew protested, shifting to the left to avoid having a rock wall at his back.

“And why should I prepare a fool who is unable to stand against me for a mere few minutes?”

The man’s expressionless face was growing whiter, anger clearly kindling behind his silver eyes.

“Because it’s your job?” Drew ventured to say, preparing for the heavy, furious blows that would likely follow. True to form, the raisling sacrificed precision for sheer force, smashing his blades into the javelins hard enough to crack one in half.

“Maybe the job I should be occupying is your own,” he spit out, looking more and more like a vengeful phantom in his midnight clothing, inhuman silver eyes glowing like candle flames.

“By all means, take it.”

The raisling stopped mid attack, stunned.

And that was all Drew needed. Casting the broken javelin aside, he aimed at the man’s heart and threw his unbroken weapon. The javelin’s course was true—but right before it struck the raisling, a crackling flash of amethyst Orenda snarled to life and repelled the weapon.

It fell to the ground with a shudder before splintering into hundreds of fragments.