On their journey to the Latimer estate, Ava felt a subtle shift in the dynamics among the group. Brynja, the ever-present and typically silent half-giant, seemed to become more open. Though far from talkative, she rode up beside Ava during a slower pace, allowing the horses to rest, initiating what could only be described as small talk.
"So, was it your mother or Arden who taught you to fight like that?" Brynja inquired, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
The brief confrontation they had encountered earlier that day appeared to have served as some sort of rite of passage for the half-giant, earning Ava a newfound respect that she was unsure how to process.
Ava hesitated, weighing her response. "Mostly my father, I think," she finally replied.
Brynja nodded, her understanding evident. "It shows. You fight with a blend of strength and finesse that only comes from good training. It's rare to see someone so young handle themselves so well."
Ava felt a flush of pride at the compliment but quickly tempered it with a reminder of the stakes. Her thoughts drifted to Arden. "Thank you. It hasn't been easy, but it's necessary. Especially with everything we face."
Brynja studied her for a moment, as if weighing her next words carefully. "You respect Arden, and there's something more now?" she prodded, a rare smile playing on her lips.
Ava, unaccustomed to this gentler side of Brynja, found herself momentarily at a loss. She took a moment to reflect, her gaze drifting to Arden, who seemed lost in his own thoughts, wrestling with inner demons.
Reflecting on her feelings for Arden, Ava realized how much had changed in the relatively short time she had known him. He had, somewhat unexpectedly, become an integral part of her life. When had she started to take his presence for granted, or even come to rely on him? This revelation caught her off guard, prompting a silent introspection about the depth of her feelings and the nature of their evolving relationship.
"I do respect him," Ava admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of affection and worry. "He's been through so much, and yet he keeps pushing forward. But sometimes, I wonder if he's really alright, if he's truly handling everything as well as he pretends."
Brynja's response was a hearty, infectious laugh that resonated warmly through the air. Ava couldn't help but steal another glance at Arden and Selene, who were trailing behind them. Selene met her gaze with an unreadable look, while Arden seemed oblivious to the exchange. Ava's concern deepened, more than she was willing to acknowledge.
"He'll pull through," Brynja remarked, as if she could read Ava's troubled thoughts.
"How can you be so sure?" Ava's voice was barely above a whisper.
"There's something about him... It's like he views the world with a sense of wonder in his eyes. He will force a solution just to be able to see what’s behind the next corner. Does that make sense?"
"Yes, I think it does," Ava conceded, feeling a slight ease at Brynja's words. Yet, the nagging worry persisted, a shadow that refused to be dispelled.
"He's stronger than he looks," Brynja continued, her tone shifting to a more serious note. "I've seen men like him before. They face the darkest parts of the world and come out the other side, changed but unbroken. Arden has that fire. But even the strongest flames need tending."
"I don't anticipate any issues with Chandler. But could you keep an eye on Arden if necessary?" Ava asked, her concern for his well-being subtly woven into her request.
Brynja offered a concise nod in agreement, a simple gesture that, surprisingly, brought a wave of calm over Ava. This reassurance, silent yet profound, offered Ava a comfort that words alone could never achieve.
"I will watch over him," Brynja assured, her voice carrying the weight of her promise. "And I will watch over you as well, Ava. We are stronger together, and nothing will break that."
Ava smiled, feeling a newfound strength in Brynja's words. She looked ahead, the Latimer estate looming in the distance, and took a deep breath. Whatever lay ahead, she knew she wasn't facing it alone.
****
As they neared the Latimer estate, Arden was deeply ensnared in his personal battle. He exerted every ounce of his willpower to refrain from using or even contemplating his magic. The mana within him churned restlessly, a storm barely contained. The temptation to release even a fraction of its power gnawed at him, but he feared the consequences. What if he lost control again? What if this time, he couldn’t pull back? This internal conflict made it difficult for him to fully appreciate the looming presence of the grand estate that unfolded before them. It appeared as if lifted from the pages of a storybook, with its imposing two-story walls more suggestive of fortification than welcome. Yet, on reflection, Arden realized that perhaps this fortress-like demeanor was precisely their intended purpose.
His mind drifted back to the incident that had triggered this struggle, the wild surge of mana that had nearly consumed him. The memory of it was vivid—how the magic had felt alive, almost sentient, clawing to be unleashed. He had managed to suppress it, but at a great cost to his peace of mind. Now, every moment was a battle to maintain control. However, Arden's focus wavered, and he was abruptly reminded of his predicament by a now all-too-familiar sharp pain that seared through his mind. Gathering his resolve like a cloak around him, he pushed forward, guiding his mount through the formidable gates with a determined, albeit strained, spirit.
He glanced around, noting the subtle changes in the air. The mana in this place felt different, more contained, as if the very stones of the estate had absorbed years of magical energy. This observation both intrigued and frightened him. What if he could harness this ambient power? But the thought was immediately followed by dread—what if he lost himself completely in the process?
Once they went inside, things looked a lot different. Arden had thought the imposing walls were just for protection, but they were actually filled with apartments. People were everywhere, doing all sorts of things, making the once-quiet place buzz with energy. This flurry of activity was not normal as to Ava's recollection, she did not voice her concern as they were closely watched.
Arden tried to focus on the immediate tasks at hand, but his thoughts kept circling back to his magic. He was terrified of losing his connection to it entirely. Magic was not just a tool for him—it was a part of his very identity. The idea of being without it, of being ordinary, filled him with a deep, existential fear. Yet, the more he used it, the more unstable it seemed to become. This paradox haunted him, a constant shadow over his every action and decision.
As they dismounted and prepared to meet with their hosts, Arden took a deep breath, steeling himself. He would have to face whatever came next with the same determination he had shown thus far. But inside, the turmoil raged on, a battle he fought alone, hidden behind a mask of calm resolve.
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At the heart of the fort, the main estate stood, a vision of architectural marvel that commanded attention. It bore resemblance to the Wildwoods estate, yet on a scale that spoke of grander visions and ambitions. Surrounded by what appeared to be stable barracks and a constellation of auxiliary buildings, including a vast granary, the estate was a self-contained world. The whole place was like its own little world, with every building playing a part in making the estate what it was—a mix of grand and useful, all set in a scene that was as stunning as it was a bit too much to take in all at once.
As Arden surveyed his surroundings, a sense of awe mingled with unease washed over him.
It had been Ava's name that eased their passage through the gates, their arrival quickly acknowledged and accepted. They had been promptly directed towards the inner stables, a place bustling with its own kind of preparation. Inside, Ava encountered an old acquaintance, Nathan.
"Nathan! I had no idea you were working here now," Ava expressed her surprise.
"Yeah, I joined a few weeks back, getting everything ready," he replied, his smile tinged with a somber note.
"You're the mercenaries, right? When you’re done, head over to the master of the watch; that building right there. He's got your payment," he informed them, pointing towards an austere building across the courtyard.
Selene cast a worried glance towards Ava and Arden. "Will you two be okay?"
"Yes, go ahead. We'll catch up with you later," Ava reassured her.
As Selene and Brynja departed, Nathan stepped closer to Ava, his proximity unexpectedly intimate. "Ava, I've always liked you," he confessed, his words catching Ava off guard.
"Nathan, I don't—" Ava's response was cut short by the ominous click of a mechanism. A sudden emptiness swept through her as her connection to her mana vanished, her shock palpable in the air between them.
"I'm truly sorry, Ava," Nathan’s tone was apologetic, yet firm, "but Chandler's orders were clear. If you arrived with him," he nodded towards Arden, "we had to take precautions."
It was then that Ava noticed Arden, held between two other stable hands, a collar fitted snugly around his neck, a device meant to suppress his powers just as hers were now stifled. Arden's eyes widened with a mix of fear and anger, his struggle evident as he tried to break free.
"Let him go!" Ava demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and desperation. She tried to reach out with her mana, to feel that familiar surge of power, but there was nothing. The void left her feeling vulnerable and helpless.
Nathan's expression hardened, the friendly facade slipping away. "I wish there was another way, Ava. But we can't risk it. Not with the stakes this high."
Ava's heart pounded, her thoughts racing to devise a way out. Glancing at Arden, she caught an expression of relief on his face—an absurd reaction that puzzled her. However, she had little time to dwell on the significance of his expression, as she was quickly and courteously led away to the main building.
"Where are you taking me, Nathan?" Ava demanded, her voice edged with a tension that mirrored the tightness in her chest.
"Look, Ava, we were informed of your arrival and were instructed to detain you. The Countess has prepared a room for you. That's all I know. Please come with us," Nathan replied, his grip on her arm gentle yet unyielding.
"And Arden? Where is he?" Ava asked, planting her feet firmly on the ground, refusing to move another step.
"I’m sure he's being taken care of. Our orders were specific to you. Now, please, we need to move. I'd rather not resort to carrying you," Nathan said, a note of apology in his voice that did little to ease Ava's growing alarm.
Ava knew Nathan, or at least she believed she did, trusting him not to lie outright to her. Yet, the situation left a sour taste in her mouth. Arden had not seemed in distress, but that was no comfort now. Determination set in her jaw, Ava decided on her course of action. She would confront Chandler for an explanation and then devise a way to extricate Arden from whatever predicament he found himself in. That was her plan, shaky but clear in her mind.
Ava's mind was a whirlwind of plans and possibilities as she was escorted deeper into the estate. Each step toward the main building heightened the sense of anticipation pulsing through her. She had expected to be taken directly to Chandler, to confront whatever awaited her head-on. Yet, the path they took was unfamiliar, leading her through corridors and passages she had not seen before.
When the door finally swung shut behind her, Ava was poised for the sound of a locking mechanism, a sound that never came. She turned, her gaze lingering on the door, her mind racing to align her expectations with the reality before her. Instead of the formal audience chamber or stark meeting room she had anticipated, she found herself enveloped in the warmth of what appeared to be a woman's private quarters.
Light flooded the room from large windows, painting soft shadows on the lush carpet underfoot. The walls were a gallery of fine tapestries, each telling tales of verdant gardens and tranquil landscapes, a visual whisper of serenity that seemed at odds with the unease knotting Ava's stomach. Dominating the room was a bed, its linens white and inviting, flanked by a small table that cradled a vase of blooming flowers, their fragrance a delicate intrusion into the thick air of uncertainty.
Ava moved through the room, each step echoing softly, her eyes absorbing the unexpected opulence. The discrepancy between her expectation of a confrontation with Chandler and the reality of standing in a room that promised comfort rather than conflict left her momentarily adrift. The luxury surrounding her, while disarming, served as a silent reminder that her presence here was not as a guest called upon for her company but as a pawn in a game yet to be fully revealed.
She took in the opulent details: the soft throw pillows that added a splash of color to the sofa, the delicate china set on a small writing desk, and the thick curtains that could be drawn to shut out the world. It was clear that no expense had been spared in preparing this room, deepening the mystery of her situation.
Processing her new surroundings, Ava’s tension eased slightly, replaced by a determination to understand the motives behind this unexpected hospitality. Why would Chandler or the Countess go to such lengths for her? What was expected of her in this gilded prison? And most importantly, how could she use this situation to ensure not only her safety but also Arden's?
The door swung open, and in walked a young girl clad in what Ava assumed to be a maid's uniform. Her eyes sparkled brightly, and her steps were quick with eagerness. “Hi, you must be Miss Ava. It’s such an honor to finally meet you. We've been anticipating your arrival for some time now. But forgive my manners; you must be exhausted after such a long and arduous journey. Let me assist you,” she said, moving towards the closet with confident strides. “Please, have a look at these dresses. I hope they fit. We didn’t have your exact size, but don’t worry, we can have them tailored. The tailor is staying here, after all,” she continued, her initial excitement giving way to a more noticeable nervousness.
Ava stood there, utterly baffled, unable to grasp the situation fully. Her confusion must have been evident because the girl seemed to grow increasingly nervous.
"Or perhaps you'd prefer a bath first? Yes, of course, a bath would be most refreshing after your journey," the girl suggested, trying to find some footing in the awkward silence.
"Sorry, but who are you exactly, and what's happening here?" Ava finally managed to ask.
"I’m Blondi," the girl responded.
"Blondi?" Ava echoed, a hint of incredulity in her voice.
"Well, it's not my real name, but everyone calls me that, so…" Blondi's voice trailed off as she looked down at her feet, a blush creeping across her cheeks.
"Okay, no worries. So, Blondi, can you tell me what's going on? Why are there so many people here?" Ava inquired, trying to piece together the situation.
"You haven't heard? I assumed...never mind. The Fifth Season is upon us," Blondi hesitantly revealed.
Ava's mind went blank. The Fifth Season, the Blood Moon. She had been just a little girl the last time it occurred, remembering how they had locked the gates and stayed inside the compound for an entire week. And of course, the moon—it had glowed a dark red, casting an eerie light that altered the appearance of everything. She didn’t recall the storms herself, but it was said that the season always began with violent tempests, and when they subsided, monsters would emerge from their hiding places. People whispered of ancient beasts roaming the roads during the Blood Moon, but Ava had always been skeptical of such superstitions. What she did know for certain was that magic and mana behaved erratically during this season, with ancient, dormant magic awakening anew. It was a phenomenon she had long wished to witness firsthand, to experience the "wild" mana. Yet, now faced with the reality, she found herself struggling to organize her thoughts.
So, she looked out of the window at the sunny day outside, marveling at the contrast between the peaceful view and the brewing chaos that the horizon promised. "You wouldn't think anything was amiss, looking at such a clear sky," she murmured to herself, the serene scene belying the tumultuous changes the Fifth Season would bring. “What am I to do now?”
Blondi took Ava's question literally. "The Countess instructed me to ensure you rested in your room until the dinner tonight. There will be only a few guests," she continued, her tone apologetic. "The Lord has not returned yet, but the Countess wanted to arrange a dinner in your honor."
Ava’s stomach churned at the realization of what this meant. Being held in such opulent quarters, attended to by maids, and presented with fine dresses—all this pointed to a role she had not agreed to. The implications were clear: she was to be Chandler's mistress, a position that, while prestigious, was not something she desired. The thought of being paraded as a trophy, her life reduced to an ornament in Chandler's collection, filled her with a mixture of revulsion and defiance.
"I need to find Arden," Ava declared, moving towards the door.
"No," Blondi exclaimed, panic edging her voice. "I'm sorry, but I was explicitly told to make sure you stayed in your room and got some rest."
"Told by whom?"
"The Countess. She was quite adamant about the order, and—"
"I see," Ava cut in, her gaze softening as she noticed how frightened the girl had become at the prospect of Ava leaving the room. Ava realized that failing to keep her in the room might bring serious repercussions for the young girl. With a heavy sigh, she decided to curb her impulses, inwardly commending herself for managing to do so.
Turning to the girl, she asked gently, "What's your real name?"
"It's Harper, Miss Ava."
"And what do you suggest I do now?"
"Well, Miss, I—" Harper began, the tension in the room shifting as Ava prepared to navigate this delicate situation with understanding and strategy. Her immediate desire to seek out Arden was tempered by the need to protect Harper from potential fallout. Her initial strategy had not changed: she needed to confront Chandler, and it seemed that this would need to wait until dinner.