Page 54 of Andreas

The realisation came too late as a sharp whistle shot through the air, followed by the squelch of an arrow piercing flesh.

Screams echoed around the forest as the last of the villagers cowered, each throwing themselves down flat against the wagon, heads drawing close to their knees.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Arrows rained down upon them, one after the other, relentless and never-ending.

After the first landed, Areanel instinctively splayed her hands and threw up a shield. A soft glowing film wrapped around their group, and the hum of magic rapidly turned into a buzz. Areanel knew that with the continuous attack, her energy would drain fast.

Far too rapidly for her liking! With every strike of an arrowhead upon her blue shield, Areanel felt it fracturing in a spiderweb fashion, like a glass cracking with every hit. Casting her mind down into her power, Areanel desperately reached for more, but the blue flame winked and flickered.

That should have been impossible. Her power was draining too quickly.

The shouts from the soldiers, screams from the villagers and yelled instructions from Elmrynn all drew distant. Sound no longer reached her ears as she cast her mind further. She needed to reinforce her shields, and fast.

Searching for more power, Areanel felt the familiar whir of magic vibrating around her—a whisper beneath her feet, in the ground, in the bark of trees and the very air around them, all vibrating with the pulse. Gods magic. Gods power. Areanel felt it everywhere, in every fibre of Idyssa; it lay undisturbed, trickling like an untouched fountain. Only… she could use it.

Only she could manipulate that flow of magic the Elvadora left in their wake.

So, Areanel reached for it. Tasting the electric buzz as it rushed up from the ground, Areanel braced herself for the mix of pain and pleasure as it scorched like lightning through her veins, sending a thrill of power through her. It was almost like the magic purred at her. Enticed her to use it.

‘We need to get Sev out of here!’

Nymlaris’s shout ripped Areanel from the trance. Voices and screams—the unmistakable sound of battle—rushed back like water breaking free from a dam. The overwhelming sounds shattered Areanel’s focus, fraying her hold on the electric ropes of gods magic she had imagined holding her in place.

Nymlaris was holding an injured Sevain, using his body to cover their brother from the assault. Crouching over Sevain, his blood splattered across Nymlaris’s cheek, brought forth a thought: A child of light will die by fate’s hand… And Andreas shall be reborn.

This was what her mother foresaw, wasn’t it?

For so long, Areanel had believed her mother’s prophecy referred to Ivan’s death. A war waged from the hatred of one’s heart shall befall the land—but that never happened.

Dread had started to creep in, an unwelcome guest. She’d become paranoid, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting to become the monster her mother always told her she would be.

After her half-brother Micah was exiled, and not long after Silas disappeared, Areanel was certain the prophecy would come true. A child of light will die by fate’s hand. Silas—with his chronic illness—was fated to die. But yet again… Nothing.

Then, her own son—Resmundur—and Areanel had turned into a monster. But the prophecy had stated that when Andreas was reborn, the former king shall fall whilst his kingdom burns. There were only two kings in Idyssa—Areanel’s father and Rymedur’s maternal uncle, Killian. Neither had fallen. Neither had lost their kingdom.

The prophecy was yet to be complete.

Areanel looked to her brothers now. She could stop it from ever coming into existence. All she needed to do was to protect her brothers—from herself or someone else, she did not know, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try.

Her mother’s words hadn’t been a condemnation; they had been a warning.

Areanel fortified her mind with renewed determination to get them all out of this alive, starting with ensuring Nymlaris got Sevain to safety.

Thwack!

Another arrow bounced off the transparent blue shield—harmlessly, for now. Areanel knew she couldn’t reach for that power again, no matter how tempting it would have been; she could not afford to lose her concentration when they were clearly outnumbered. When Areanel reached for that power, she felt herself almost lost to it—there was a price when drawing from the land; Areanel knew that too well.

If anyone had seen, or ever saw, what she was truly capable of…

Heir or not, her father would have her head.

‘Can he fight?’ Areanel didn’t know why she asked it; Sevain was not made for combat. Gentle. Warm-hearted. Kind. Sevain was not the strongest of the siblings; everyone knew it, but their father would not be pleased when he saw him injured.

And that terrified Areanel more than anything, because she knew what would come after—punishment. The question was, who would be on the receiving end of the king’s disappointment?

Areanel could not think about the inevitable disapproving look her father would give them. The situation was growing dire; their attackers outnumbered them, and with the added villagers, Areanel wasn’t sure how many could be saved. It was clear their assailants were here to kill.