Page 44 of Soul Forge

“He travels alone, he hates the wielders, and he hides a monster in plain sight. Now we learn he left an innocent woman to burn and took her child. Who knows what he did to Cynthia? And why do none of the wielders stay with him when their task is complete?Hecould be the reason the Corrupted exist.”

“Then why would the Spirits keep forcing him to train us?” Elda argued.

“Because he’s still the best weapon they have against Malakai,” Reiner answered. “I wouldn’t sacrifice my strongest asset against the enemy just because a few innocents got caught in the crossfire. The Spirits won’t either.”

“People aren’t weapons, Captain,” Elda ground out.

This time, Reiner turned in the saddle to look Elda in the eye. “Heis a weapon, Elda.” Her words were short and clipped. “He has power like nobody else. He survives what would kill anyone else. He isdangerous.”

“He’s oursaviour,” Elda shot back. “Chosen by our creators. If he meant to bring harm on Valerus, he would have done so already.”

“We arealwaysa single choice away from corruption,” Reiner answered darkly, turning in the saddle to face the horizon. “All it takes is one bad decision.”

It was clear the conversation was done. The captain stayed stony and silent, urging Atlas to fly fast enough that the wind was too much to converse over. Elda was glad. Reiner’s words were eating at her.

And she knew the only way to stop it would be to ask the Soul Forge for the truth.

The sun was dipping behind the horizon when Atlas’ hooves touched the ground again. He trotted to a stop, tossing his mane in eagerness to have the bit removed from his mouth. Elda slid from the saddle without help, ignoring the hand Reiner offered her.

Sypher landed lightly beside them, tucking his wings in and absorbing the drop with his knees. Elda watched the limbs vanish in a gust of smoke and feathers, evaporating on the light breeze. He rolled his neck, the bones cracking quietly.

Reiner unstrapped Atlas, leaving him free to nose at the sparse grass poking up between the cracks in the rocky ground. Here and there, the flat stone was replaced with a coating of shale that crunched beneath his hooves when he spotted a flowering weed growing through the sharp pebbles.

She was furious – Elda could see it in every move she made. The bedroll unfurled with a sharp crack when Reiner wafted it in the air, setting it down on the floor with a scowl. Her belongings came next, the waterskin, a knife, and a whetstone clanking against one another as they hit the floor.

Sypher remained unfazed by the black glare she kept trained on him, setting out his own bedroll on the opposite side of the space. Their shelter was little more than a gap between three great chunks of stone jutting high up toward the clouds. A fourth piece had detached from one of the uneven spires, becoming trapped between them to create a makeshift roof that would shield them from the weather and hide any signs of a campfire.

When Elda laid her bedroll out on the ground, Reiner reached over and yanked it closer to hers, keeping it as far away from the Soul Forge as she could. He cocked his head, then went back to sharpening his dagger without a word.

“So, this is fun,” Elda said, her voice echoing through the stone shelter. Neither of them answered her. “How do you make your wings disappear like that?” she asked, trying a different tactic.

“Magic,” Sypher replied, not looking up from his weapon.

A giddy little flutter settled in her stomach when he answered her instead of brushing her off. No matter how many times she saw the eyes of his demon in her memory, her instincts told her he wasn’t a monster. He was rude, certainly, but she knew there was far more to him than what she’d been shown.

“Are they a part of you, or do you make them with your shadows like your armour?”

“They’re part of me.”

“Is your demon part of you too?”

A pause, and then, “I guess so.”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do you think your wings are from your demon?”

“I do.”

“Did your demon make you leave the woman behind to burn?” Reiner asked sharply. Elda’s next question died on her tongue, her mouth turning dry. The giddiness faded, replaced by dread. Would they fight? Would Reiner attack him?

Sypher’s hand paused halfway through gliding the whetstone over his blade. “I take it you spoke to Edward?”

“Aye, and he had plenty to say.”

“Of course he did.” He went back to sharpening his blade. Elda saw the shadows in the corners of the shelter shiver unnaturally, but he seemed perfectly calm.

“Well?” Reiner demanded, getting back to her feet. The princess watched her stalk across the space, mace in hand, and level its wicked spikes at Sypher’s eye. “Was it true?”

“Which part?” A tingle of fear tickled Elda’s scalp at the absolute emptiness in his voice. The sound of it made her pulse pick up, and she started to worry that someone was about to die.

---