Page 145 of Soul Forge

“We are,” Gira admitted. “It’s a short visit, I’m afraid.”

Elda’s eyes strayed back to the shelves, unable to help marvelling at the sheer number of books Artan had in his possession. Eden’s library was extensive, but this?

“Please, browse,” Artan suggested when he noticed her distraction. “I can’t imagine you’ve seen a library like this before.”

“No, but our visit is more important,” she replied.

“Go,” Gira offered, smiling kindly. “Enjoy it while you have the chance to. I can listen to the report just as well as you.”

She made a conscious effort to contain her excitement, clamping down on the urge to squeal and flashing a calm smile instead. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Wandering through the towering shelves, she reached out to touch spines bound in leather and cloth as she passed, breathing in the comforting smell of old, preserved books. She waited for one to jump out at her, her legs carrying her all the way to the back of Artan’s vast collection.

She paused in front of a shelf in the furthest corner, the light from the huge windows not quite reaching far enough to properly highlight the spines. She moved closer, scanning the shelf curiously until her eyes landed on a small, worn leather spine with no title. It was tied shut with a string; the pages yellowed with age. When she reached up and pulled it free, a tingle of foreboding slid down her spine.

It was a journal, the cover completely blank. The open pages were scrawled with a language she couldn’t read. The ink was red, darkened almost to brown by time, and every page was full. The handwriting got worse as the pages progressed, small drawings appearing here and there. She kept turning, watching whoever had owned the book descend into insanity, one word at a time. She was glad she couldn’t read the words – she understood without knowing the language that they were the writings of a madman.

The journal fell open on the middle page, and her hands stilled. The entire page was a drawing. In the centre, a stone spire jutted up from the rocky ground, runes scrawled across its surface. Smaller spikes of jagged rock surrounded it, like the jaws of some ancient beast waiting to snap shut. The spire appeared to be in some sort of cavern, accessible by a bridge across what looked like a pit. It was hard to tell – the lines were faded, and it was the only page in the journal that had been inked in black. She stared at the image, her eyes fixed on the oddstone tower, and the phantom grinding of rock began to plague her thoughts again.

“Elda?” The sound of her name stopped the rumbling in her ears, and she snapped the journal shut, winding the string around it and putting it back on the shelf. Her heart still thundered in her chest, though she couldn’t understand why. How could a drawing have such an effect on her?

She hurried away from the shelf, rounding the corner to find Reiner looking for her. The further away she got from the journal, the easier it was to brush off the panic it inspired in her. By the time they returned to Gira and bid the king goodbye, her heartbeat had returned to normal.

Out in the bright daylight of Saeryn, it was hard to believe a book had rattled her so much. She was finally able to push it away from her thoughts and focus on the conversation Reiner and Gira were having.

“You really think they’re in Rift?” Gira was saying, frowning at the valkyrie.

Reiner nodded. “I do. The desert wouldn’t present them with the same challenges it would us. As long as Cynthia is there, the Corrupted don’t have to worry about demons. It makes sense that they’d take Arden there.”

“It’s still adesert, Rukya. No shelter, no real food source, very little water. They’d be forced to hunt for their food to survive, and they’d have to travel for water.”

“You know as well as I do that Cynthia is mad enough to think that’s a perfect plan. Besides, the scouts confirmed they saw the wraiths skirting the border of Darkhold. If they were going to head into the realm, why would they bother flying so far east?”

“How did Artan’s scouts track them so far?” Elda asked.

Reiner shot her a sideways glance. “If you’d paid attention, you’d know they had help. Your father received our message andagreed to send his own scouts. They reported back this morning with what they found.”

“And what they found was the Corrupted heading for the desert?”

“It seems that way,” Gira confirmed. “Though I highly doubt they’ve camped there. It’s a wasteland.”

“So is Darkhold.”

“But in Darkhold, they have Malakai to protect them,” the shifter countered. Elda’s eyes ticked back and forth between them, waiting for Reiner to snap at him.

“Let’s just see what Sypher has to say about it,” the ex-captain decided, sighing. Elda blinked, surprised at the absence of her ire. “He knows Abraxos and Cynthia better than anyone. There’s no use arguing over it until we’ve spoken to him. Let’s just get back to the villa and give him the report.”

Sypher looked horrible. Vivid bite marks adorned either side of his throat, and a third one decorated his wrist, all in varying stages of healing. When Gira and Elda returned to the villa, he was winding a bandage around the wrist sporting the most recent bite.

Clover had returned and was looking revitalised, his bright silver eyes signalling a recent feed. Julian and Yani were also refreshed and sparring playfully in the gardens. Sypher, by comparison, was a mess. His skin was pale and sallow, dark circles ringing dull red eyes. He slumped over, elbows resting on his knees as though he didn’t have the strength left to lift his arms.

“Are you alright?” Elda asked, sitting beside him in the grass.

“I’ll be fine in a few days, maite,” he replied with a tired smile. “Feeding three vampires in quick succession is hard work. I know what will help me feel better, though.”

She laughed when he grabbed her and knocked her down into the soft grass, pressing his lips to hers a moment later. She kept expecting the butterflies in her stomach to subside whenhe kissed her, but there they were, ever-present and fluttering away.

“Put her down, soldier,” Julian teased, sauntering over with his husband in tow and hunkering down beside them. “She might be your lover, but she’s still a lady.” Yani snickered behind him.

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