The two women huddled within the damp embrace of the alcove, trembling as the storm howled around them. Rain drummed against the stone walls. Amriel’s heart raced, each thud echoing the mounting dread in her chest, a desperate reminder of their precarious situation. The cool stone pressed against her back like a ghostly hand, an icy reminder of her vulnerability. She held her breath, straining to catch the fading echoes of the guards’ footsteps, praying they wouldn’t return.
The wind shrieked and the rain lashed down in a torrent, a wild symphony that obscured the sound of their pursuers. Amriel could scarcely gauge how far away the guards might be; every crack of thunder seemed to rattle the very bones of the earth, each flash of lightning illuminating the night in fleeting, blinding brilliance.
The storm wrapped around them, a chaotic cloak that both concealed and suffocated. Amriel’s heart thudded in her chest, each beat a frantic drum urging her to flee, to move before they were discovered. She could taste the rain on her lips, cold and sharp, mixing with the lingering warmth of her breath.
Despite their efforts to find refuge, the two women were soaked to the skin, their garments clinging heavily, a second skin weighed down by water and fear. Finally, Amriel let out a shuddering sigh, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. It seemed, for now, they had eluded their captors.
Closing her eyes, Amriel leaned her head back against the cool, rough stone of the alcove, the texture grounding her amid the chaos. The dash through the rain had left her breathless, her chest tight, as if her heart were a trapped bird, thrashing painfully against her ribs. The sound of her own ragged breaths filled her ears, a steady rhythm that she willed to calm her racing heart.
Unbidden, the stranger’s face flickered behind her closed eyelids—a face she had not seen in over a month, since that storm-lashed night when he had collapsed on her cottage floor. The memory surged back like a tide. Amriel clenched her fists, the damp stone cool beneath her as she fought against the rush of emotion. She couldn't afford to dwell on him now—not when danger lurked so close. Yet, as the storm howled outside, echoing the turmoil within her, his face returned again, uninvited, an enigma she couldn’t quite shake.
The palpable tension that had hung in the air, a mix of danger and desperation that had sent shivers down her spine. She recalled how his presence had filled the small space with an unsettling energy.
That night had changed everything. He had arrived battered and broken, soaked to the skin, as if the storm itself had hurled him into her life. His eyes—dark and intense—had held a wildness that both terrified and intrigued her, igniting a curiosity she had never anticipated. It had been nearly as long since he had vanished from her life without so much as a word of thanks, leaving her with nothing but unanswered questions and a lingering sense of unfinished business.
The silence that followed his abrupt departure felt heavier than the storm, a silence filled with unspoken words. She had tried to push the memory away, to bury it beneath the routine of her daily life, but it lingered like a ghost in the corners of her mind, haunting her dreams and stealing her peace.
He had vanished, and without even so much as a thank you, Amriel thought, a slight bitterness creeping into her chest. It gnawed at her like an uninvited guest, a reminder of how quickly he had slipped away. Not that she really felt she had done all that much. After all, it was just a matter of digging out the arrowheads from his side. After that, the man’s body had seemed to heal itself. And far faster than she had ever expected.
In all her years as a healer—watching her mother’s gentle ministrations, learning the ancient ways of care—Amriel had never witnessed such a rapid recovery. Not without magic and those who could bend it to their will. It had been shocking, a stark deviation from the slow, deliberate healing she had come to expect. The way he had transformed from a broken shell into a man full of life and vigor had left her reeling, questioning everything she thought she understood about healing.
Though Amriel had no ability to use magic herself, she could sense it. Many women in her maternal line shared this rare gift, an ancient legacy that had been passed down like a cherished heirloom. At times, she thought it a curse—an uninvited weight that added complexity to her existence. This gift, elusive and potent, could manifest differently in each generation. For Amriel, it was a sharp instinct, allowing her to perceive the ebb and flow of magic in the world around her, even the strongest kinds. In fact, her ability had outshone her mother’s; a fact that had proven to be a sore point with Nythia. Her mother had been a proud woman, not easily taken to being outdone, especially by her own daughter.
Yet, despite their brief time together, Amriel was fairly certain she sensed no trace of magic woven into the fabric of the stranger's being—not the potent magic required for such extraordinary healing. This left her with a disquieting sense of uncertainty, for his rapid recovery had been nothing short of miraculous. No mortal could possess such an ability, and that realisation gnawed at her mind like a hungry shadow.
Amriel’s breath caught in her throat. By the gods, that must be why the Head Keeper was so interested in him?
The Infinity Tower, with its plain grey tower and silver roofs, was the home of the goddess of knowledge. A great wealth of knowledge and wisdom resided within. The Keepers themselves, in their simple grey robes, spent their lives dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom. From the moment they were given unto the Infinity Tower as acolytes, their days were spent buried beneath mounds of great tombs, brittle scrolls, and leather-bound books. They gained such knowledge to better serve the people of the realm. To help guide them. At least that was what Amriel had been lead to believe.
The Head Keeper, Master of the Infinity Tower and the one closest to the Goddess, was one of the most influential and powerful men in the realm. He gave counsel to lords and kings in all manner of subjects. He was also a man, she assumed, used to getting what he wanted. Whatever the cost. Knowledge was power. And such a man in pursuit of power was not likely to give up easily.
Perhaps she should have just given him what he wanted to know? What did she owe this man that she barely knew? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Certainly not near enough to endanger the likes of Maeve, Simon, and the girls.
I’m such a fool, Amriel cursed herself. Maybe I should just return to the tower and tell him all that I know. Not that it’s much more, but maybe he will leave us alone.
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“Don’t you dare go back there,” Maeve finally spoke, her voice a hiss beneath her breath.
At the sound of her friend’s voice, Amriel’s eyes snapped open. Maeve’s full lips pressed thin and her eyes filled with disapproval as she shook her head with a slow, deliberate motion, as if to reinforce the weight of her earlier admonition.
It never failed to amaze Amriel just how much Maeve could read her mind; there was almost something uncanny about it. A flicker of apprehension crossed Maeve's face, as if she could sense the unspoken thoughts swirling in Amriel's mind, even now. Taking a deep breath, Amriel nodded in response and attempted a reassuring smile, but it felt more like a grimace, the tension of their situation twisting her features.
“We can’t stay here much longer. The guards will be back,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The air around them was thick with anxiety, the weight of their predicament pressing down on her shoulders like a heavy cloak.
They had narrowly escaped capture, but the urgency of their circumstances was undeniable. The guards would soon realise their quarry had slipped away, and the relentless pursuit would resume.
Anxiously, Amriel gripped her blade, feeling its hilt slick from the rain. She knew it would offer very little defence against the guards’ formidable weapons and armour, but its familiar weight provided her with a small measure of comfort and courage.
Taking a deep breath, Amriel stepped out from the safety of the alcove into the raging storm. The rain poured down, driven by the relentless winds, and she squinted her eyes, scanning the dark alleyways.
The way was clear. They had to move now.
Stepping back, she turned to Maeve and silently signalled the all clear. The red-headed northerner nodded stiffly in response, but said nothing.
The rain plastered Maeve’s vibrant red hair against her head, making her striking green eyes seem all the larger, almost lost in her heart-shaped face. Even as children, Maeve had always been the bold one, the brave one who charged into the unknown with a fierce spirit. But now, the terrified look on her friend’s face shook Amriel to her core, twisting her insides with guilt and despair.
This is my fault, Amriel thought, anguish clawing at her heart. If she had just let things slide, if she had remained in the safety of her routine, they wouldn’t be here, trembling in the tempest and hunted like prey. She was the reason her friend was so frightened, the catalyst for their current predicament, and the realisation settled heavily upon her shoulders.
Determined to make amends, Amriel felt a surge of resolve rise within her. I will get us out of this, she promised silently.
Swallowing hard, Amriel summoned whatever courage she could muster and led them out into the ally way. Blade in hand, she took the lead as they set off once more, this time in the opposite direction the guards went. The sound of their hurried footsteps echoed off the cold stone walls, muffled by the falling rain.
The storm had emptied the streets of the capital. There was not a soul in sight. Swiftly, they weaved through the labyrinthine alleys, staying close to the shadows. With every step, Amriel felt her senses heighten, her heart pounding in her chest.
Amriel’s mind raced. They needed a safe-haven, a place where they could regroup and strategize. But where could they go? Even if they continued to evade the guards, nowhere was safe. Home was out of the question. The Master Keeper had eyes everywhere, and his influence extended far beyond the walls of the courtyard they had just fled.
The thought lingered in Amriel’s mind as they turned a corner, emerging onto a rain-soaked road. The slick cobblestones glistened under the dim streetlights, posing a new danger. Before Amriel could fully grasp their dire circumstances, a crash shattered the silence, followed by a gut-wrenching cry from behind her. Panic surged through her veins, icy and electric, as she whipped around, her heart plummeting at the sight of Maeve sprawled on the ground, cradling her leg.
“No!” The word escaped Amriel's lips in a breathless gasp. With her heart pounding in her throat, she skidded to a stop, her feet sliding on the rain-slicked cobblestones. She pivoted and dashed back to her friend.
“Maeve!” She dropped to her knees beside her friend, droplets of rain splattering around them as she knelt in the mud, urgency flooding her senses. Maeve’s face was a mask of pain, her lower lip clenched between her teeth to stifle her cries, and tears mixed with the rain that streaked down her ghostly pale cheeks.
“Oh gods, is it broken?” Amriel's voice was thick with concern, her hands instinctively reaching out, hovering over Maeve's leg, desperate to ease her pain. Amriel fought to keep her hands trembled as she gently examined Maeve’s injured leg. She lifted the hem of Maeve’s wide leg pants as gently as she could and breathed a sigh of relief; there were no obvious signs of a break.
Droplets flew outward as Maeve shook her head, “I don’t think so. I think I might have just twisted it.” Her voice trembled, betraying the bravado she tried to maintain.
Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Amriel carefully manipulated the tender joint. Maeve gasped in pain. At least that was a good sign. If she’d broken it, the joint would most likely feel numb.
Glancing up into Maeve’s face, the sight of her friend’s agony only fuelled Amriel’s determination to protect her. “Do you think you can walk? We can’t stay here. The guards will be back around soon enough.”
Maeve nodded silently, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.
Amriel frantically searched her surroundings, peering as next she could through the haze of the storm, for any sign of the guards, knowing that time was running out. Panic threatened to consume her, but she forced herself to stay focused. She couldn’t let the fear paralyze her. Or they really would be as good as caught.
Swallowing hard, Amriel pushed back the fear that threatened to engulf her as she carefully helped Maeve to her feet. Her friend bit back a yelp of pain. Maeve draped her arm over Amriel’s shoulder, leaning heavily against her for support, and Amriel wrapped her own arm around Maeve’s waist, steadying the taller woman as they began to hobble along the slick road.
With each step, Amriel could feel the tremor of Maeve’s body, the way she clenched her teeth to stifle the discomfort. The rain poured down around them. The cobblestones were a treacherous surface that threatened to send them sprawling at any moment. Yet, despite the pain etched across Maeve’s features, there was a determination in her eyes that ignited Amriel’s own resolve.
It was even more important they find shelter, and soon. They desperately needed a place where she could tend to Maeve’s injury and regroup. Every step they took felt like a race against time. Amriel could feel the weight of responsibility bearing down on her shoulders as they navigated through the rain-soaked streets. Every sound of footsteps sent shivers down her spine, making her heart race painfully inside her chest.
She took them off the main road as soon as she could. Amriel’s mind raced, scanning the surroundings for any signs of refuge, when she realized where they were. The market square would be just around the next bend. Relief washed over her, mingling with a fresh wave of urgency. They were near Lonny’s bakery. If they could reach Lonny’s, they might find sanctuary—if only for a moment.
“Just a little further,” Amriel murmured, determination coursing through her veins.
She tightened her grip around Maeve’s waist, feeling the warmth of her friend's body through the soaked fabric of their cloaks. The weight of Maeve’s injury and their precarious situation threatened to drag them both down, but Amriel refused to falter. With each step, she could feel the bakery's promise of safety pulling them closer, the flicker of candlelight just ahead illuminating their path.