Chapter 16: Beneath the Mask
1137 Words
The morning broke with a chill that bit through the pines, coating the forest floor in a silvery frost. The fire had long since turned to embers, but Sera sat awake, huddled close to its glow, rubbing her arms as though cold had seeped through her bones.
Aelira stepped quietly around the camp, her senses fully alert. She hadn’t slept. Not really. Her body had rested, yes, but her mind had paced circles through the night, caught in the puzzle Sera had thrown into their path.
How had she stolen her scent?
No rogue could do that.
Aelira’s powers, even the ones she had yet to fully understand, weren’t ordinary. The mark of the moonstone tree was not a blessing handed to just anyone.
And yet Sera wore her scent like a second skin.
Aelira’s gaze drifted to her, eyes narrowing. Sera’s delicate frame trembled slightly as she tried to keep her breathing even. She was pretending to sleep now, though Aelira could hear the subtle hitch of consciousness in her breath.
"You're awake," Aelira said coolly.
Sera’s eyes snapped open with practiced surprise. “I didn’t want to disturb anyone.”
Aelira nodded slowly. “No worries. We’re leaving soon.”
Sera cast her eyes down. “I’m grateful you let me stay.”
Thalia yawned as she emerged from behind the trees, arms stretching. “Mornin’… You two look like you’ve been awake for hours.”
Aelira didn’t answer. Her fingers touched her mark lightly as she walked past the fire. It didn’t glow. Not yet. But something told her she’d need its light soon.
They walked through the trees in silence. The cold made each footfall soft on the frost-hardened ground. Birds chirped warily above them, flitting from branch to branch like tiny sentinels.
Aelira kept Thalia between her and Sera, noting how Sera walked, too lightly, too gracefully for someone recently “freed” from captivity. Her wounds had healed too fast. Her limp from the night before? Gone.
Aelira clenched her jaw.
They paused for a midday break by a quiet stream. Thalia filled their flasks while Aelira knelt by the water, letting her fingers dip just below the surface.
Behind her, Sera approached.
"You don’t trust me," Sera said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aelira didn’t move. “No. I don’t.”
Silence.
Then Sera sighed, slowly lowering herself beside her. “That’s smart, you know. Trust is dangerous.”
She looked into the water. “I used to trust someone. A long time ago. He promised I’d be safe.”
Aelira glanced at her. “And?”
“He lied.”
Sera’s voice trembled. “The rogues weren’t the first ones to hurt me.”
Aelira’s stare sharpened, but she said nothing.
“I was born to a dying pack,” Sera continued, her fingers swirling through the water as though drawing memories. “Our lands were taken. My parents were exiled. I was small, weak, and unwanted. Even the healers said I wouldn’t survive. But I did.”
She looked up then, amber eyes gleaming. “I survived by learning what others needed. What they wanted. I became useful. Silent. Invisible. Until I wasn’t.”
Aelira watched her closely. Every word was calculated. Measured. A performance.
But it was masterfully done.
Still, she wasn’t fooled.
“You’re not telling me the whole truth.”
“No,” Sera admitted. “But I’ve told you enough for now.”
She rose and turned away, her hair catching the light like ink.
“Thank you… for giving me a chance.”
---
Later that night, when the forest had dimmed into quiet shadows, Thalia sat near the fire, humming softly to herself as she strung healing stones into a leather cord.
Aelira stood on the edge of camp, breathing in the cold air.
She had made her decision.
She would test Sera.
Aelira waited until both girls had settled into sleep, then slipped into the trees. She walked far until she reached the old hollow where the pouch had been hidden. She hadn’t removed it earlier, wanting to see if Sera would return to it.
But the pouch was gone.
Instead, in its place, something else lay.
A dried flower, the petals brittle and pressed flat, laced with moonroot.
Moonroot was used in older rituals, including ones meant to mirror a person’s energy.
Aelira felt a surge of heat through her chest.
Sera was preparing something. Slowly. Secretly.
She ran her fingers over the bark, then whispered to the tree, a quiet enchantment Thalia had taught her.
“Show me the last hands that touched you.”
The bark glimmered faintly.
And then, like a whisper on the wind, the image appeared, Sera, reaching forward. Her eyes had lost all their sweetness. She wasn’t trembling. She was smiling. Cold. Sharp. Triumphant.
Aelira’s blood chilled.
She returned to camp and stared at Sera from the shadows.
She had seen enough.
---
Three days later, they reached a fork in the path. One road led to the village of Elowin, where they might find allies. The other, north to the Ravenspire Mountains, unclaimed land where strange things stirred.
Thalia eyed both roads, uncertain. “Which one?”
“Elowin,” Aelira said. “We need to restock, and I need to speak to someone there.”
Thalia nodded, trusting.
Sera, however, hesitated.
“Are you sure?” she asked, the question too casual. “The Ravenspire path is faster.”
“Not if you don’t want to die,” Aelira answered.
Sera gave a small, forced laugh.
But Aelira had seen it, the flicker of frustration, gone in a blink.
She was hoping to lead them astray.
---
That night in Elowin, Aelira spoke to an old seer named Ylara, a woman who once walked beside her mother.
“She’s not what she appears,” Aelira said.
Ylara nodded slowly, turning a crystal pendant in her hand. “No illusion holds forever. But you must not confront her directly. Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s using your power to build something dark. And if you try to strip her too soon, you might damage the threads.”
“What threads?”
Ylara looked grave. “The ones connecting you to your destiny.”
Aelira’s pulse raced. “You’re saying she’s part of my fate?”
“Or a weapon meant to break it.”
---
Back at the inn, Sera sat alone on the balcony, the wind twisting her dark hair as she stared at the moon.
She had tasted Aelira’s scent now. Memorized it. The moonstone’s magic still eluded her, but she was patient.
Kaelen would see her soon.
And when he did… he would believe.
She would be her.
And Aelira would be nothing but a memory.
- Writer
