Back at the safehouse, Cade and his team sat around a crackling campfire. The cool night air was permeated with the scent of pine and the distant chirp of crickets. Exhausted, sore, and defeated, no one spoke for quite a while. Everyone simply stared into the flames, lost in thought.
None of them, even after hours of searching, had found any trace of the Remnants beneath the arena. While that wasn’t wholly unexpected, it still left a bitter taste in Cade’s mouth.
“I’ll check the food,” Nora said.
Her sudden voice snapped everyone from their dazes, and a few of them simply nodded. Cade tracked her movements as she pushed herself to her feet and headed for the cabin, where thin trails of smoke coiled from the chimney.
With everyone else distracted, this was as good a time as any to clear the air between the two of them.
Their telepath was gone before they’d gotten back to the cabin, but it was clear that a certain someone had been busy while they were away.
Cade stood and pretended to inspect Gavin’s handiwork. Where before this place was a love song to putrid blood and sticky feathers, now it was nearly livable. He pushed the cabin door open and stepped inside, the comforting aroma of roasted meat and herbs doing much to soothe his nerves.
The wooden floorboards creaked underneath his boots as he crossed the room. Near the fire, Nora was stirring a pot of stew, her back to him. The flickering light of the fire highlighted the tightness in her shoulders and the tension in her posture.
“Nora,” Cade began, his voice tentative. “Can we talk?”
She didn’t turn around, but her shoulders stiffened further at the sound of his voice. Outside, he could hear the chatter of conversation bubbling around the campfire as his team settled in for the night.
“What is there to talk about, Cade?” the paladin demanded in a steely voice.
He took a step closer, the warmth of the fire barely cutting through the chill in the air.
“I want to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean for things to go that way,” he replied quietly.
Nora spun around, her eyes blazing with anger. “You ‘didn’t mean for things to go that way?’ How can you justify it, Stormhollow? How could you possibly make that choice for me like that dwarf’s life meant nothing?”
After a brief spell of confusion, as he had no idea what she was talking about, Cade’s chest tightened at the grief in her expression. He tried to set a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she took a step back, her eyes filled with pain and fury.
“I’m realizing now that we might be talking about different things,” he answered with more caution than before. “I meant keeping you and Evie in the dark about what we’re doing here. Are you referring to the stair trial? Really? I did what I had to do to keep you safe. To keep all of us safe. That’s my job.”
Nora’s fists clenched at her sides, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the ladle as if it were a knife.
She closed the distance, soup forgotten. “You already forgot about him, haven’t you? About all of them? I had to ask the Lifekeepers what his name was. Vorgo. The dwarf’s name was Vorgo.”
Cade took another step closer, his hand reaching out but stopping just short of her. “Nora, you need to be honest with yourself. You were never going to make it out of there as long as that dwarf was alive, and you know it. I get that you care about other people, I really do, but this is a fight to the death. Sometimes, we’re going to have to be ruthless.”
She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes, but she cleared her throat and lifted her chin before a single tear could fall. She sniffed, but the cauldron now had her full attention.
“Ruthless,” she repeated quietly, almost too softly to hear. “That’s how I lived for so long, Stormhollow. Obedient. Brutal. An extension of his will. His executioner. I don’t want to live that way anymore.”
Cade raised one eyebrow in surprise. As much as he wanted to ask who she was referring to, he was just grateful that she was starting to reveal parts of her life that he never thought he’d hear. He remained quiet.
She clearly needed to get some things off her chest.
“For so long, I saw every opponent as an enemy to be annihilated,” she continued softly, still not looking up at him. “They were assassins, bandits, slavers, kidnappers—the worst scum the continent has to offer. Killing them was easier, but that dwarf didn’t do anything wrong. He wasn’t the enemy. I know nothing about him, and yet because we were connected, I felt like he and I were in it together, somehow. Both players in a sick and twisted game for a goddess who is clearly fucked up in the head, let’s be honest.”
“Yeah,” Cade admitted quietly. “I’m not going to argue on that one.”
“But for that dwarf to die because of me…” Her jaw tensed, and she didn’t finish that thought.
Cade felt his throat tighten with a surge of emotion, and his mind raced for something to say that could possibly make this better.
“I’m still new to this whole ’leading’ thing,” he admitted. “But I didn’t forget about him. I had to make a choice for you, yes, and I didn’t take your desires into account. I’m sorry for that.”
She studied him briefly before returning her attention to the cauldron.
“I did what I had to.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. “In the moment, with the threat of imminent death, I did my best with the information I had. That’s all any of us can do, Nora, even when we screw up. Our best.”
Nora sighed, and her shoulders finally relaxed.
“I told you that I take care of my own,” he reminded her. “I want you to trust me, and I know that’s something I’ll have to earn back. But just know that you’re part of my team, and that means I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
It was the greatest promise he could give anyone.
“I get it,” she said gently, though a surge of shadow rolled briefly across her features. “I was a leader, once. I was on the frontlines of so many battles I’ve lost count. I’ve gone back for soldiers who betrayed me in the end.”
Her eyes squeezed briefly shut, as though she were fighting off a painful memory.
“I had such a stick up my ass,” she muttered. “The rules were so clear. So obvious. So comforting. Now, there’s nothing to guide my way, and I’m adrift. I’m lost, Cade. Now, there’s just survival.”
“Welcome to the real world,” he said before he could stop himself.
Her eyes pinned him with a stare so intense that it left him breathless. “That’s what you call it? The real world? Come on, Cade. You didn’t hesitate to kill that dwarf connected to me in the trial, and you certainly didn’t feel any remorse. I could see that much on your face—and I recognized that expression. That determination. It’s how I used to think. It’s who I used to be when I killed, and I don’t want to live that way anymore.”
He let the silence settle between them as her gaze shifted to the floor. Her eyes glossed over, probably lost in memory, and for a while, neither of them spoke.
“You already have your team, Cade.” she said softly. “Your whole ’apricot’ nonsense proves that much. You just brought the rest of us on because you were desperate.”
“And you joined us because the stars told you to, whatever the hells that means,” Cade reminded her. “What brought us together doesn’t matter as much as the fact that we’re here.”
“Maybe,” she admitted.
She handed him the ladle and, with one last lingering glance, left him alone in the cabin. The door creaked behind her as she walked out, and he sighed in frustration. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that everything would be alright, but he knew that would be a lie.
He could see the weight of guilt and grief bearing down on her, and he felt the same crushing burden settle on his own shoulders.
Cade had just gotten so used to it—to killing, to stealing, to surviving—that he’d forgotten how heavy it all could be.
A defense mechanism, perhaps, that allowed him to push through his own guilt. He didn’t know. It was something he hadn’t revisited in ages.
Cade stood there for a moment, his mind blank and his heart heavy. He checked the cauldron and took it off the fire to cool before walking out of the cabin. The cold night air hit him like a slap, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He caught sight of Nora just as she slipped into the woods, and he opted to give her space.
“That went well,” Elena said sarcastically.
He jumped, caught off guard, and caught her leaning against the wall just outside the door. With her arms across her chest, she rested the back of her head against the cabin and smirked.
Usually, he would’ve said something funny. Something disarming. Something to make her laugh as he led her back to the fire.
But Nora’s words haunted him.
Without saying anything, he strode past his lifelong friend and stepped into the clearing. The grass was bathed in the silvery light of the full moon, the shadows of the trees stretching long and dark. He could hear the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl, but the tranquility of the forest did nothing to calm the storm inside him.
He needed to clear his head.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Without a word, Cade walked calmly into the forest, careful to give Nora’s path a wide berth. The moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The scent of pine and earth filled his nostrils as he strolled angrily into the treeline.
He walked until his feet ached and then walked some more. His mind replayed the argument with Nora, the hurt in her eyes, the bitterness in her voice.
No matter what she said, he stood by what he’d done. He saved her. His team meant more to him than anything, and he’d sacrifice as many lives as it took to protect them.
He stopped by a large oak tree and leaned against its rough bark. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the memories, the pain. But it was no use. Nora’s words echoed in his mind, each one a dagger to his heart. He slammed his fist against the rough bark, and the sharp pain that followed cleared his mind a little.
The full moon loomed above, its pale light a silent witness to his turmoil. He looked up at it, feeling a strange connection to its cold, distant beauty. Cade knew he couldn’t stay here forever, but for now, he needed this.
He needed just one damned moment of solitude, this brief respite from the chaos and the guilt. He closed his eyes and felt the writhing mass of his core strain against his mental defenses.
It wanted out.
Hmm.
Maybe it was time to see just what this devastating core of his could do.
Cade stood alone in the moonlit clearing, the silver light casting eerie shadows across the forest floor. The full moon hung high above him, its cold glow offering a stark contrast to the turmoil inside him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bracers of Velna, their bronze rings glinting menacingly in the pale light. The runes etched into them seemed to pulse with a life of their own, whispering promises of power and control.
Taking a deep breath, Cade slipped the bracers onto his forearms. The metal tightened slightly, securing them in place. Instantly, he felt a shift within him. The chaotic, tumultuous magic that had been coursing through his veins began to solidify, transforming into something more malleable and controllable. The sensation was disconcerting, like suddenly becoming aware of a new limb.
“Alright, Cade, let’s see what these bad boys can do,” he muttered to himself while a fresh bead of sweat lanced down his brow. “Just don’t blow yourself up.”
He scoffed.
Easier said than done.
“‘Find an aspect of your dominion that is the easiest, and work from there,’” Cade said under his breath, reciting what the physician had told him when he’d woken up in the infirmary.
He closed his eyes and focused, that awareness of his magic growing with every heartbeat. Like learning to clench one’s fist for the very first time, he exerted his will onto his fluctuating core.
Unlike the countless times he’d tried this before, it responded.
The bracers warmed on his skin. His core started to take shape, a glowing, pulsing entity within him. The more he focused on it, the more distinct it became—and the less control he had over it.
He could feel the magical pressure building inside, a growing intensity that bordered on pain. He clenched his fists, trying to guide the magic out, but nothing happened. The pressure continued to build, searing pain spreading through his body.
“Okay, this is fine. Totally fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just a little magical heartburn.”
Bright orange magma seemed to flow through his veins, visible beneath his skin. A surge of dread gripped him as he struggled to control the wild power. He focused, desperate to find a release. With a sudden, fierce determination, he guided the magic towards his hands.
A wild burst of fire and wind erupted from his palms, coppery tendrils of energy snaking through the air. The explosion of magic illuminated the clearing, and Cade felt the pressure within him dissipate. He gasped, relief flooding through him as the pain subsided. But he could feel the magic already starting to refill his core, the sensation like a well slowly replenishing itself.
“At least I didn’t explode,” he laughed, a little hysterically. “That’s a win, right?”
At first, fear gripped him. Would he have to release this pressure regularly, or risk exploding? He watched as the magic traveled through his arms and shoulders, clogging like a river blocked by debris. Closing his eyes, he focused on shoving the magic throughout his entire body. The pathways began to shift, the magic flowing more freely. It spread through his torso, his legs, and finally, towards his head.
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, feeling the magic inching closer to his brain. “Please don’t fry my mind.”
A moment of terror seized him as the magic reached his skull. The realization that it might destroy him from within came too late to stop the process. As the magic surged into his mind, Cade’s world exploded into blinding white agony. Molten lava seemed to pour directly into his head, searing every nerve ending and synapse.
He collapsed to his knees, clutching his temples as waves of excruciating pain radiated outward. His bones vibrated violently, threatening to shatter. Each heartbeat sent fresh spasms of torment coursing through his body.
Cade’s mouth opened in a silent yell of pain, but his throat was too constricted to make a sound.
Behind his eyes, kaleidoscopic visions flashed and swirled—fragments of memories, glimpses of possible futures, arcane symbols burning themselves into his mind. His magical core, once a nebulous energy, crystallized inside him. Jagged shards of glass seemed to form in his chest, scraping against his insides with each labored breath.
The air around him crackled with palpable energy, raising the hairs on his arms. Just when he thought he couldn’t bear another second, the pain reached a crescendo. Cade’s back arched as a final, cataclysmic surge of power rushed through him.
And, with a flash of light, the pain faded.
When he came to, he found himself lying on the ground. He sucked in breath after greedy breath, and his hair stuck to the thick lines of sweat along his face.
In the absence of pain, fresh life flowed into his body, into his veins, into his very soul. It was like reality was reborn. He could hear with greater clarity, see with greater detail. It wasn’t a huge shift, but there was a difference now. He closed his eyes and breathed in, enjoying the tang of pine on his tongue. When he exhaled, he could intrinsically feel a new connection forged between him and his core. Instead of feeling like he was manipulating something external, the magic now felt intrinsic to his very being. Relief and excitement swept through him, and a bright ripple of energy pulsed from his body, dissipating into the distance.
Cade let out a shaky laugh, the newfound connection filling him with exhilaration. He practiced more, clumsily at first, but with growing confidence. He wasn’t a martial artist, but he began to get a handle on the bursts of wind and fire. The coppery hue of his magic deepened, becoming richer and more potent.
“This is more like it,” he grinned, feeling the energy flow smoothly. “This is going to change everything.”
He lost track of time, the moon high above him as he practiced late into the night. Each burst of magic brought just an iota more control, more understanding. The clearing echoed with the sound of his efforts, the air crackling with energy.
Then, as he prepared for another blast, he heard a rustle in the bushes behind him. He froze, his senses heightened by the magic still coursing through his veins.
A low growl rumbled through the grove. It was as dark and low as the deepest shadows, and a cold shiver raced down his spine. The joviality he had been feeling evaporated in a heartbeat. He pulled his fists up close, the bracers gleaming in the night. The shadows seemed to close in, the once comforting moonlight now casting ominous shapes around him.
Cade turned slowly, his heart pounding. The growl grew louder. He heard the faint scrape of claws against the soft soil of the forest. His breath caught in his throat as he shifted around, doing his utmost to remain silent. There, behind a thick cluster of bushes, a pair of glowing eyes watched him from the darkness.
“Oh great, just what I needed,” he whispered, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “To be a midnight snack for some forest beast. Not the way I wanted to go.” He peered down at his fists, a slow grin forming over his lips. “And not the way I will go.”
He raised his hands. The pressure inside him built once more, the coppery tendrils of magic eager to be released. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was to come.
The creature stepped into the moonlight, its silhouette a blight against the moonlit sky. Its fur bristled, muscles rippling under its dark coat. Cade could feel the raw power emanating from it.
“Alright, buddy, let’s dance,” he muttered, feeling the magic surge within him.
He closed his eyes briefly, focusing on the magic within. The connection was there, stronger than ever. He could feel the energy pulsing through him, waiting for his command.
He met the creature’s gaze, determination burning in his chest.
This was a test, a trial of his newfound power and control. He would not back down. With a final, steadying breath, he prepared to face the beast, the moonlight casting a resolute glow on his determined face.
The beast lunged.
Cade planted his feet, his hands raised, magic thrumming through his veins. The creature before him circled in the shadows, its growl low and menacing. Cade turned, trying to follow its rapid movements, catching glimpses of dark brown and black fur but nothing clearly. Seconds later, it darted back into the forest, but he could hear its low growl circling him in the darkness.
“Okay, you oversized pup, show yourself,” he muttered, his heart pounding. The beast rushed through the underbrush, rustling leaves, and snapping twigs. Cade’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as he tried to anticipate its next move.
Desperate, he decided to take a chance. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing the magic in his core. Then, with a shout, he unleashed a blast of scalding wind, hoping to catch the creature by surprise. The wind howled through the clearing, whipping up dirt and stones.
A yelp of pain confirmed his hit, but it only seemed to enrage the beast. It stepped from the shadows, and Cade caught the hint of ivory teeth stained with blood. The thief’s eyes widened in shock as he realized what he was facing.
A werewolf.
It was easily approaching eight feet in height, and that scarcely included his hunched back. But there was something else that caught Cade’s attention, something that made him tilt his head in confusion. Around the werewolf’s neck was an ascot, a gaudy bright teal and pink pattern and yet incongruously elegant.
“Wait a storming second. Gavin?” Cade asked, lowering his hands slightly.
The werewolf’s eyes flashed with a hint of recognition.
Before either could react further, a distant cluck of a chicken cut through the night. The werewolf’s head snapped around, ears perked. With a final growl, it whirled and shot off into the forest.
Cade stood there, dumbfounded. The realization that Gavin might be a werewolf was startling enough, but the sight of him rushing off after a chicken was almost too much to process. A slow chuckle rose in his throat, growing louder until it echoed through the empty clearing.
“Of course,” he muttered to himself, still chuckling. “Why wouldn’t our team have a werewolf who chases chickens in the middle of the night? We weren’t weird enough, were we?!”
The tension of the encounter slowly ebbed away, replaced by a strange sense of camaraderie. Dysfunctional didn’t even begin to cover it. With a shake of his head, Cade turned and began the slow walk back to the cabin, the events of the night playing over in his mind.
As he approached the homestead, the warm light spilling from the windows beckoned him. The laughter of his teammates despite the late hour, the smell of stew, and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air. He paused, his gaze descending on the glowing city below their cliff. For a second, he felt a presence focus on him. But then the feeling was gone, and he stepped inside.
“Hey, there he is! How was your sulk?” Jer asked Cade around a mouthful of chicken.
The handsome redhead held the drumstick like a mace and gestured at Cade with faux mockery. The team turned in their seats beside the hearth to take him in, sweat and leaves coating his clothes. A pang of regret briefly coursed through him when he noticed that the paladin was absent, though her strange companion sipped on a bowl of stew on the sofa. Evie’s sea-green eyes narrowed slightly on him, a glint of understanding dawning on her face before she returned her attention to her bowl and blew on it softly. Cade approached the hearth smoothly, his gait steady while he cracked his knuckles.
“Punch any trees, or did you just sit on a log and think for a long while?” Elena inquired behind a mug of what smelled like cheap ale.
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Cade started, shrugging easily. He stood in front of the fire as if to warm his hands, his back to his friends. “What do you guys think? Does this need a little stoking?” He asked, pointing to the hearth.
“I mean, it’s plenty warm right now. Just give it a second to—” Rayka began, but a burst of wind tinged with copper and the orange of fire shut her up. Embers flew everywhere, but most escaped high into the bricked chimney. The room fell silent, while Cade gazed at each of them, his shiteating grin the widest it had ever been.
“So, I did a thing,” he said coolly.
“Hell freaking yeah!” Jer screamed, and the silence was shattered as they all clambered over one another with questions, their dinners forgotten as Cade smiled at his team.
His family.
What's the REAL reason Gavin has an obsession with chickens?
