Lost in a chapter

Two

Sylvain shadowed into the training camp of West Jeverune, his arrival marked by a swirl of black smoke. The cold air bit at his skin, and the snow-covered soldiers froze in their drills.

“My High King,” they murmured, their heads bowed as he passed.

Sylvain acknowledged them with the slightest nod, his piercing gaze fixed ahead. He moved with purpose toward the command barracks where his brother was stationed. The tension in the camp was almost palpable, the soldiers exchanging uneasy glances as the High King strode past.

Inside the barracks, Solis stood among his men, issuing orders with his usual commanding presence. The moment Sylvain entered, the atmosphere shifted. Solis looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as their gazes locked.

“My High King,” Solis greeted, though his voice was tinged with something less than warmth.

“Excuse us,” Sylvain ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. The soldiers quickly filed out, their movements brisk and silent.

“You do know I was coming to see you after this,” Solis remarked once the room was empty, his words carefully measured.

Sylvain’s expression hardened. “Stop wasting time, Solis. You are the Commander of Sylvarune. Why are you dragging this out? Did you get the book?”

“Yes,” Solis replied curtly, reaching into a satchel at his side. He retrieved the book and tossed it to Sylvain.

Sylvain caught it effortlessly, his claws resting lightly against the leather cover. His sharp eyes scanned the ornate designs etched into it. He flipped it open, only for his expression to twist into a scowl. “It’s blank.”

“For us, yes,” Solis explained. “It’s a human portal, brother. Only they can see within it.”

“Then it’s useless to us,” Sylvain growled, his patience fraying. Without warning, he unleashed a powerful fire from within, his rare and potent magic burning with an intensity that lit up the barracks. The fire consumed the book entirely, reducing it to ash.

Sylvain turned his icy gaze back to Solis, his tone sharp. “The portal is destroyed. Now, bring me the human.”

Solis hesitated. “She’s no longer human”

Sylvain’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “A non-human used a human portal?”

“When I found her, she was human,” Solis admitted, his voice steady but firm. “But when Marthos removed the book from her, she reverted to her true form.”

Sylvain’s claws extended, his tone low and menacing. “And what form is that?”

Solis held his brother’s gaze, unflinching. “Thoradian.”

The word struck like lightening. A flicker of shock, or was it anger? passed through Sylvain’s piercing eyes. He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over his brother.

“There are no Thoradian’s left,” Sylvain said, his voice cold as frost. “We made sure of it.” His stare bore into Solis. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded, catching the tension in Solis’s stance.

“What’s it to you?” Solis shot back, his voice sharp, tinged with defiance.

“I’ll get her myself, I’ll decide her fate,” Sylvain hissed, his words heavy with finality. “It doesn’t matter why or how she changed form or why she had a portal, she is a threat to Sylvarune.”

“I know!” Solis snapped, his composure cracking.

Sylvain leaned in, his tone deadly. “You’re hiding something. You are always ahead of me, and yet you seem to be stuck”

Without waiting for a reply, black smoke swirled around Sylvain, and in an instant, he vanished. The barracks fell into an uneasy silence.

Solis struck at the table near by, his mind racing with confusion, he immediately shadowed to his estate, he fought against the duty to protect Sylvarune and for some strange reason, her.

Marthos felt Sylvain’s presence long before he arrived, her senses prickling with dread. She knew why he was here, and she wasn’t about to let him near Tora. Tora was the last Thoradian alive, there was no way she would let him destroy her. Marthos looked at Tora, sadness lingered in her eyes, memories of an old Thoradian friend cluttering her thoughts. Marthos shook her thoughts away, she had no time to waste, and only one person came to mind when she thought of help. “Tora, you’re in danger,” Marthos said urgently, handing her a small jar. “Cover yourself in this. Trust me, no matter how terrible it smells.”

Without hesitation, Tora obeyed, her face scrunching in disgust as she lathered the foul-smelling paste over her skin. The nausea rose in her throat, but Marthos gave her no time to react. She grabbed Tora and leapt out the window, her golden-copper wings unfurling as they plummeted. The wind tore at their faces as they soared away from the estate, the trees below blurring into dark smudges.

“What’s happening?” Tora managed to say, her grip tightening around Marthos’s arm.

“Your presence here has set Sylvarune ablaze.” Marthos said sharply, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon. “Sylvain is a ruthless high king, your kind, the Thoradian’s, they went into war with Sylvarune, they tried to defend their lands but eventually lost, this happened centuries ago, now all but Aurathen are now at his command, you are not safe in Sylvarune, not now he knows.”

“Where are we going?”

“To Aurathen. To my brother,” Marthos replied, her voice steely.

The air around them shimmered with danger, a faint tendril of black smoke curling in their wake, the unmistakable sign of Sylvain’s pursuit. Marthos tightened her grip on Tora, her wings beating furiously as she wove through the towering trees, dodging branches and shadows with astonishing speed. Behind them, the night twisted unnaturally, Sylvain closing the distance.

The duo emerged into a clearing, the border to Aurathen visible across a crystalline river. Marthos swooped lower, soldiers from Sylvarune firing arrows and spells in rapid succession. Tora flinched as magic scorched the air around them, but Marthos deftly avoided every attack.

As they neared the border, Marthos threw Tora forward with a powerful shove. Tora screamed, tumbling into the arms of an Aurathen soldier.

“Take her to the High King!” Marthos commanded, her voice ringing with urgency.

Before Tora could protest, the soldier whisked her away toward the safety of Aurathen. Marthos turned back, her wings flaring wide as she faced Sylvain.

“This is war, Marthos,” Sylvain snarled, his tone was a venomous promise. “Return the girl, or Aurathen will burn.”

“No,” Marthos replied, defiant.

With a roar of fury, Sylvain lashed out, a rope of searing fire snapping around Marthos’s neck and hurling her to the forest floor. The impact sent shockwaves through the trees as Marthos tumbled to a stop, her wings crumpled and bruised.

Solis appeared beside her in an instant, his expression stricken. “Marthos, go back to Aurathen, now!,” he urged.

Marthos winced, pushing herself to her feet. “No, ” she said, defiance in her voice.

The tension thickened as Sylvain emerged from the shadows, his soldiers fanning out around Marthos. He sneered, his gaze icy. “This is who you trust, Solis? A traitor?”

Marthos rolled her eyes. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? That he trusts me more than he trusts you.”

Sylvain’s claws extended, his fury barely contained. “Lock her up,” he ordered, his voice cutting like a blade.

“Don’t touch her!” Solis barked, stepping protectively in front of Marthos, sparks of lightening beginning to form.

Sylvain’s dark smile spread slowly across his face, his piercing gaze flicking between Solis and Marthos. “I see it now,” he said, his voice low and venomous. “You’ve been with my mate.”

Marthos’s laugh was sharp and defiant. “Mate?” she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. “I’d rather die.”

“Let her go, Sylvain,” Solis demanded, his tone steady but edged with warning.

Sylvain’s cold presence crept closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over them both. He leaned in, his face inches from Marthos’s, his voice a chilling whisper. “So, no denial.”

Marthos held her ground, her sharp eyes locked on his. Sylvain inhaled deeply, as if committing her scent to memory, before straightening. His expression hardened, his tone cutting like ice. “Lock her up, her brother won’t house the Thoradian if we have her.”

Before Solis could protest, Sylvain’s voice sliced through the air again. “Get the soldiers ready on standby.”

And with that, black smoke coiled around Sylvain and Marthos, leaving the forest heavy with his lingering presence.

Solis yelled in anger, strikes of lightening enclosed around him. He was torn between, his duty and a feeling he couldn’t shake.