Chapter Three – Selene
The road out of Veredale curved between towering pines and frost slivered bushes. Cleft never looked back, Elio had noticed. Everyone had their own way of saying farewell. For a while, neither spoke. Elio allowed the silence to linger until the tree lines swallowed the village whole.
It took them half a day to leave the shadows of the forest. When the trees finally fell away, the world opened into sweeping plains so wide, Cleft thought it went on forever. Far in the distance, where grassland met the sea, a stone fortress rose from the coast. Its perimeter was ringed by weathered walls, and beyond them lay a narrow strip of beach, one that disappeared entirely beneath the tide as it climbed.
“It’s huge.” Cleft breathed.
Elio followed his gaze. “The largest city in the Northern Reach, and the oldest one. Every Adeptus under the law passes through its gates.” He gave the boy a side glance. “Including you.”
Elio smirked as he watched Cleft cringe. “Tell me, what do you imagine the capital to be?”
Cleft hesitated. Then, quietly: “Loud. Crowded. Judging.”
Elio laughed. “Elbows in the ribs disguised as compliments. Friendly smiles that mean anything but. Politics. People with power and far too much time.”
“And the Council?”
Elio’s face darkened. “They will examine you.” He said simply. “Your talent. Your history.”
Cleft raised an eyebrow. “My history?”
“There hasn’t been an Infernalist for the past five hundred years.” Elio stated. “The only surviving ones are the ones we read in books as children.”
Cleft stayed silent, letting the weight of that settle.
“Was your mother an Adeptus?”
“No.” Cleft paused, searching through the fog of childhood memories. “She was a weaver.”
“And your father?” Elio pressed gently.
“I never knew him.” Cleft’s voice was steady, but something in it tightened. “My mother said he was a traveler.”
Elio hummed thoughtfully, though the sound carried weight. “And the siblings you saved?”
Cleft’s jaws tightened. “What about them?”
Elio waited, the question hanging between them.
But Cleft’s eyes stayed fixed on the distant fortress, his expression unreadable. Elio saw the way his fingers tightened around the reins, small, silent tells of a boy preparing himself for something he could not yet name.
“You said the Council will examine me. What does that mean? What will they do?” The shift was deliberate, measured, a closing of doors. Whatever Elio had hoped to learn, Cleft had sealed it behind a wall and moved on.
Elio paused. “They will assess your aptitude first.” He said slowly. “Measure the stability of your magic.” He turned to look at the boy and finally ask the question that had been on his mind ever since he laid eyes on the boy. “Where did you learn to use the sigil?”
Cleft’s eyes narrowed, the question almost catching him off guard. His fingers twitched over the reins. “I don’t remember learning it.” It was not a complete lie, but it was not the full truth either.
Elio’s eyes lingered on the boy for a long moment, reading the subtle cues: the tightening of his jaws, the faint flare of his nostrils, the rigid posture that betrayed the control held in check by sheer will. He opened his mouth, ready to prob further, but a flicker of movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Something shifted beneath the grass, low and deliberate, like a shadow stirring under the earth.
Cleft’s heart lurched. “Elio.” He whispered.
“I know.” Elio said without turning. His voice hardened. “Ride!”
Cleft did.
The thundering hooves drowned the rising chorus of snarls chasing at their heels. As if to confirm his fear, something rippled to the right of Cleft’s vision, too fast for his eyes to catch. The air itself had thickened, charging with the same creeping darkness Cleft had felt the night he healed Alira.
“Elio!” Cleft hissed. “We can’t outrun them!”
“I’m aware of that.” Elio stated calmly.
Another snarl echoed the prairie, closer this time. Cleft’s eyes snapped to the horizon, but there was nowhere to run, no trees, no rocks, not even a rise in the earth to break the endless sweep of grass. They were exposed, perfectly placed for an ambush.
The grass to his right suddenly exploded. A wolf burst free, all muscle and teeth, launching straight at Cleft’s horse. For one frozen heartbeat, Cleft saw his own death reflected in its gleaming fangs, but the strike never landed. His horse whistled past the wolf in one swift movement, not slowing, not even swerving.
Cleft twisted in the saddle, expecting the wolf to be right on them, only to freeze. The creature hung in mid-air, suspended by thick coils of vines that had erupted from the earth, wrapping its limbs and muzzle in a tangle of living restraints. Elio swept past it, his hand flashing to his sword. A single, sharp groan cut the air, then the wolf fell limp.
Cleft stared, stunned. “You never told me you – “
“Less talking,” Elio said sharply. “More riding.”
The creatures shrieked in unison. Another one lunged straight for Cleft. Instincts overrode thought, fire erupted around his palm and a bust of golden flame sliced upward. The wolf recoiled with an enraged hiss, its skin blistering where the flames kissed it.
They mounted quickly. The fortress loomed larger with every stride. Behind them, Cleft could still hear distant snarls echoing across the plains. He kept his head low, his fingers aching from how tightly he gripped the reins.
Through the chaos, Cleft noticed a girl drifting towards them from the direction of the fortress. She seemed unaware of the monstrous snarling behind him, just a passerby taking a quiet evening walk.
Panic surged. Cleft waved wildly. “Turn back!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “It’s dangerous here!”
But the girl did not stop.
She paused only long enough to brush a strand of dark hair from her face, her expression unreadable in the fading light. Then she kept walking, calm, steady, deliberate. The prairie wind tugged at her white gown as though urging her to flee, but she seemed deaf to both the wind and his warning.
“Elio!” Cleft hissed, panic scraping the back of his throat. “She’s not listening – “
“Don’t stop!” Elio urged.
“But –“ Cleft tried to argue.
“Just go!” Elio barked, his eyes fixed on the girl. “She can take care of herself.”
Cleft’s fingers tightened on the reins. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he hesitated, torn between his instincts to protect and Elio’s command. The girl’s calm stride seemed almost unnatural against the chaos of snarling creatures, and for a moment, Cleft felt a flicker of doubt.
Her gaze burned into him as he rode past her. She couldn’t have been much older than he was, yet there was a presence about her that made him falter. Icy blue eyes, sharp and unyielding, locked onto his, framed by a pale, almost translucent complexion. Her features were striking, high cheekbones, a narrow nose and a set of lips that betrayed neither fear nor surprise.
He twisted in the saddle before he even realized he’d moved, his breath catching as she raised a single hand. The air itself shuddered, vibrating with a sudden, unnatural cold, and then ice blossomed into existence around her fingers. Shards formed in a blink, sharp as cut glass, whirling in a tight orbit that flashed with the last scraps of daylight.
With a decisive flick of her wrist, the frozen blades shot forward. They sliced through the dusk in a deadly spray, humming with lethal precision. The wolves answered with snarls and frantic scrambling, bodies twisted in a desperate attempt to dodge, but to no avail.
Cleft’s horse shuddered beneath him, nostrils flaring, eyes wide with panic. Cleft swallowed hard, heart hammering. For the first time since leaving Veredale, the fear in his chest was mingled with awe, and a gnawing unease.
“Elio.” Cleft breathed, voice trembling. “Who is she?”
Elio’s eyes remained locked on the girl. “That,” He said slowly, his tone measured, “is one of the Council Members who summoned you…and my master – Selene.”
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