believe she could have taken him, she
might have gotten paralyzed again.
The Triumvirate was, in a
way, shielding her from true evil. If the Rising defeated them, would the new
leaders be able to keep back the power of the Underworld? Would
they have guardians of their own once they defeated the
Sentinels?
These were questions she’d have to ask once
she found the rebels. It already disturbed her that she was
thinking along the same lines as the Triumvirate. The
Underworld—with the dangers it presented and the fear it
inspired—was the reason they’d been able to choke off freedom,
after all. And now it was causing her to question the cause she’d
risked everything to join.
I won’t fall into that
trap , she thought, gritting her
teeth. There will always be supernaturals,
and the Triumvirate’s counting on that to keep themselves in power.
But they’re not the only ones who can protect people. She was living proof of that. So was Williams,
with his shielding spells and knowledge of monster weaknesses. And
there had to be more; the rebels had been around for twenty years , after
all.
The Rising was her one
hope against both evil magic in the form of Tydeus Storm and evil
power in the form of the Triumvirate. They stood for the freedom —not power and
control, not dark magic and the Underworld. That meant they were
only ones on her side, who cared about and were willing to fight
for the same things she yearned for. She had to reach them before
her enemies caught up to her.
Spurred by that thought, she bolted through
the blackness.
AN ENTIRE ERA MUST HAVE passed since the last time Aurelia had seen daylight, and yet
dawn was nowhere on the horizon. She had no idea how long she’d
been walking through the wilderness, clinging to the edges of the
ancient road that would lead her to the Way Station, but it felt
like forever.
She had to be getting close now. The last
road sign—which she’d nearly missed because it had fallen to the
ground and been covered in weeds—told her so. On Williams’ map, the
sign had been so close to the Way Station, it looked like you could
cross the span in two steps. In real life, considering the scale of
that piece of paper, she probably had about a mile to go.
A mile is
nothing , she thought, picking up her pace
as she ran through the darkness. Stupid things like aching feet and
sore muscles hardly mattered when there was a big picture to
consider. Freedom, she reminded herself. No more fighting for a government that
looked down on her, or fearing that one wrong word could destroy
her life. The Rising was within reach, and she wondered how long
she’d have to wait at the Way Station before Williams could get a
message to his rebel pals telling them to meet her
there.
She hadn’t seen any sign of the Triumvirate
since her encounter with Storm, but she knew better than to believe
that she’d gotten away. They were hunting her still, and she
couldn’t rest until she’d made it to the safe house. So she kept
moving as fast as she could without wearing herself out.
She’d been running forever, it seemed, and
despite the cold air, heat radiated from her body. Since the
knapsack was gone, she’d strapped her swords to her back. They felt
almost like a shield, since they were all she had to protect
herself from any threats, and she was so used to having weapons
there that their presence were as familiar as the shirt on her
back. Though that made her somewhat glad to have ditched the bulky
bag, she wished she could’ve kept the bottle inside. Her throat
itched, demanding water, and she swallowed hard in an attempt to
silence it.
Suddenly a chill—icier, even, than the
winter wind—wafted through the air, and she stopped abruptly.
Something dangerous was coming, and the slight tremor in the ground
beneath her confirmed it. Another freezing gust blasted toward her,
causing the trees to shake and their bare branches to rattle.
Beneath the gale, she heard a
might have gotten paralyzed again.
The Triumvirate was, in a
way, shielding her from true evil. If the Rising defeated them, would the new
leaders be able to keep back the power of the Underworld? Would
they have guardians of their own once they defeated the
Sentinels?
These were questions she’d have to ask once
she found the rebels. It already disturbed her that she was
thinking along the same lines as the Triumvirate. The
Underworld—with the dangers it presented and the fear it
inspired—was the reason they’d been able to choke off freedom,
after all. And now it was causing her to question the cause she’d
risked everything to join.
I won’t fall into that
trap , she thought, gritting her
teeth. There will always be supernaturals,
and the Triumvirate’s counting on that to keep themselves in power.
But they’re not the only ones who can protect people. She was living proof of that. So was Williams,
with his shielding spells and knowledge of monster weaknesses. And
there had to be more; the rebels had been around for twenty years , after
all.
The Rising was her one
hope against both evil magic in the form of Tydeus Storm and evil
power in the form of the Triumvirate. They stood for the freedom —not power and
control, not dark magic and the Underworld. That meant they were
only ones on her side, who cared about and were willing to fight
for the same things she yearned for. She had to reach them before
her enemies caught up to her.
Spurred by that thought, she bolted through
the blackness.
AN ENTIRE ERA MUST HAVE passed since the last time Aurelia had seen daylight, and yet
dawn was nowhere on the horizon. She had no idea how long she’d
been walking through the wilderness, clinging to the edges of the
ancient road that would lead her to the Way Station, but it felt
like forever.
She had to be getting close now. The last
road sign—which she’d nearly missed because it had fallen to the
ground and been covered in weeds—told her so. On Williams’ map, the
sign had been so close to the Way Station, it looked like you could
cross the span in two steps. In real life, considering the scale of
that piece of paper, she probably had about a mile to go.
A mile is
nothing , she thought, picking up her pace
as she ran through the darkness. Stupid things like aching feet and
sore muscles hardly mattered when there was a big picture to
consider. Freedom, she reminded herself. No more fighting for a government that
looked down on her, or fearing that one wrong word could destroy
her life. The Rising was within reach, and she wondered how long
she’d have to wait at the Way Station before Williams could get a
message to his rebel pals telling them to meet her
there.
She hadn’t seen any sign of the Triumvirate
since her encounter with Storm, but she knew better than to believe
that she’d gotten away. They were hunting her still, and she
couldn’t rest until she’d made it to the safe house. So she kept
moving as fast as she could without wearing herself out.
She’d been running forever, it seemed, and
despite the cold air, heat radiated from her body. Since the
knapsack was gone, she’d strapped her swords to her back. They felt
almost like a shield, since they were all she had to protect
herself from any threats, and she was so used to having weapons
there that their presence were as familiar as the shirt on her
back. Though that made her somewhat glad to have ditched the bulky
bag, she wished she could’ve kept the bottle inside. Her throat
itched, demanding water, and she swallowed hard in an attempt to
silence it.
Suddenly a chill—icier, even, than the
winter wind—wafted through the air, and she stopped abruptly.
Something dangerous was coming, and the slight tremor in the ground
beneath her confirmed it. Another freezing gust blasted toward her,
causing the trees to shake and their bare branches to rattle.
Beneath the gale, she heard a
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