Chapter 80 The Intentional Meet
Ryven
Night had fallen over the new settlement, thick and heavy. I was finally getting dressed after fucking the day away. My body ached in the best way—thighs sore, back scratched raw, cock still half-hard from the last round.
I felt exhausted too, but there was a skip to my step as I pulled on my trousers and laced my boots. Alive. That was the word. More alive than I’d felt in months. The constant weight of failure, of chasing ghosts, had lifted for a few blessed hours.
Behind me, Elyndra slept.
She lay tangled in the sheets, naked and exhausted. Her pale skin glistened with sweat and the evidence of everything we’d done. Her chest rose and fell in slow, deep breaths, full breasts shifting with each one. She looked thoroughly used, and the sight sent a strange surge of pride through me.
For a moment, I just stood there, watching her. There was something deceptively calm about it though —like standing in the eye of a storm and convincing yourself the sky would stay clear.
It wouldn’t.
When I was ready, I moved toward the bed, the floor creaking faintly beneath my weight. I bent slightly, intending something simple—just a quick kiss on the forehead before I left.
But I stopped.
Something was wrong.
In the dim light, her face shifted—not truly, not in a way I could explain—but the lines of it felt different. Softer. Familiar in a way that made my chest tighten.
Rowenna.
The name didn’t just come to me. It struck.
Cold followed immediately.
It slid into me without warning, wrapping around my ribs like frost tightening its grip, seeping deeper with every heartbeat until my breath hitched. I straightened slowly, my muscles going rigid as that presence made itself known.
Then she laughed, low and amused.
She was inside my head again.
“Do you honestly think you’d go without me?”
I clenched my jaw, staring down at the woman on the bed as if I could force the illusion to break. “I was hoping,” I muttered under my breath.
Her voice curled through my thoughts again, smoother now, but sharper beneath the surface. “You can’t afford hope. You can’t afford mistakes. I promised Magnus.”
My brow furrowed immediately. “Magnus?” I asked, confused. “You spoke to him? When?”
I waited. No answer.
The cold tightened. Dark magic was unpredictable, slippery as oil on wet stone. I rubbed my temple, trying to push the invading presence back. “If you’re so determined to stay,” I said under my breath, “then stay in Rowenna’s body. Show yourself that way. Stop… bleeding into me.”
“Rowenna is a liability,” Elyndra snapped, her voice echoing in my skull. “Weak. Timid. You are better off without her dragging you down.
My jaw tightened, but I didn’t argue. Not because I agreed—but because I wasn’t sure how much of this was even mine to control anymore.
“Now let's go,” she added, the faintest edge of command slipping in, “night has fallen.”
I forced myself to move.
One step. Then another.
Away from the bed. Away from Rowenna. Away from the feeling that something inside me was no longer entirely my own.
The air outside was sharp and cool, cutting cleanly through the haze in my head.
Helga and Jehan were waiting exactly where I expected them to be.
Helga didn’t bother hiding her irritation. “About time,” she said, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “We’ve been standing here since morning. I was starting to think we’d have to drag you out.”
I scoffed lightly, rolling my shoulders as I approached. “You’d have tried.”
“Oh, I would have succeeded,” she shot back, a smirk tugging at her lips before her gaze sharpened. “Thought Magnus would yank you out from whatever hole you were buried in, but apparently you three had quite the time."
“What?” I shot back, half-laughing, half-annoyed. “We did not! And Magnus was never here. I would’ve known.”
She tilted her head. “We heard everything, Ry.”
“Heard what?” My voice hardened. “Magnus wasn’t here.”
Jehan stepped in before Helga could escalate it. “He was, Ry,” he said, calm but firm. “Not long ago. You can ask Aldo if you think we’re imagining things."
A flicker of something uneasy moved through me.
“That’s not possible,” I said, though the certainty in my voice didn’t feel as solid as it should have.
Helga studied me for a moment longer, then exhaled. “Something’s off. We don’t know what’s been messing with you, but it’s not clean magic.”
I held her gaze, steady. “Then we deal with it after this.”
A beat of silence passed.
Then she nodded once. “Fine. Anyway, Magnus said the Enforcers will be deployed as planned. We just need to get to the other side of that ridge.”
I pulled out the old map from my cloak pocket and unrolled it under the lantern light. The parchment was yellowed, edges frayed.
Jehan leaned in and frowned. “This map looks ancient, Ry. From what I’ve heard, that area beside Mount Aetheria—the lowlands beyond the ridge—is a wasteland. Toxic with residual manna. The mist that clings to the ground should never touch skin. It’ll burn like acid. We should cover up completely. Nothing exposed.”
I didn’t like what I heard. Magic waste was vicious. I’d seen men lose limbs to less. At night the mist would be denser, glowing faintly with poisonous green flecks. My stomach twisted.
“The plan has already been set in motion,” Elyndra hissed inside my head. “You cannot back out now. Do as your friend says. Cover yourself.”
I ignored her. “If the girl made it across,” I said, focusing on Jehan, “where would she go?”
“On the ridge itself,” Jehan replied. “The high ground is safe. It’s the lowlands that are toxic. The mist pools down there.”
I traced a finger across the map. “We teleport to this rock.” I pointed to a large boulder marked on the ridge. “I’ll send word to Magnus to have his Enforcers deployed near that area.”
I let out a sharp caw. A raven swooped down from the darkness almost instantly, landing on my outstretched arm. I scribbled a quick note on a scrap of parchment—the boulder, the instruction for hidden deployment—then placed it in the capsule attached to the bird's leg.
“Straight to Magnus,” I whispered. The raven launched into the night.
We dressed quickly in silence. Black tunics, black cloaks, black masks tucked into our hoods. Thick gloves covered our hands, and we wrapped our legs and boots with extra layers of dark cloth. Nothing could be left to chance. When we were fully covered, we each gripped our teleportation orbs, picturing the flat boulder in our minds. The familiar pull of magic took hold.
The world blurred, twisted, then snapped back into focus.
We materialized atop the wide, flat boulder, the night wind whipping around us. From this vantage point, we had a perfect view of the wasteland below. The mist was thick and gray, shot through with specks of green. The land was barren—no grass, no life. Dead trees stood like blackened skeletons. A foul river oozed from what looked like a sewage outlet on the distant slopes of Mount Aetheria, sluggish and shimmering with unnatural color.
Helga swore under her breath.
I didn’t speak. I scanned.
Magic always left patterns if you knew where to look.
And then, I saw it. A section of the ridge where the trees grew thicker. Healthier. Alive.
I lifted my hand and pointed. “There.”
Jehan followed my line of sight, then gave a slow nod. “That’s not natural growth. That’s shelter.”
“They’re there,” I said, my voice steady. “They haven’t moved.”
Helga exhaled. “Then we hide and wait.”
Jehan and I nodded, settling into position behind the boulder, my eyes fixed on that patch of life in a dead world.
The cold presence of Elyndra lingered at the edges of my mind, watchful and pleased. The plan was in motion. The girl would be found. And somehow, deep in my gut, I knew tonight would change everything.
\-----
Serafina
Azerath had conjured specific clothes for me—protective layers that covered every inch of skin. I felt like a wrapped package, but I wasn’t complaining. A thick mask covered my face, gloves protected my hands, and a snug bonnet kept my hair completely hidden. Spectacles shielded my eyes from any stray mist. My boots were reinforced with hardened soles, and beneath my trousers and shirt I wore a sheath-like under-layer that Azerath promised would resist even the worst magical corrosion.
I flexed my fingers slowly, adjusting to the weight of it all.
“Uncomfortable?” Azerath’s voice cut through the quiet.
I glanced at him. “Different,” I admitted.
“Necessary,” he said simply.
"I know."
Even Blink had been outfitted. She had shifted into her bunny form and now wore tiny protective coverings on her feet, body, and a little mask over her nose. She looked ridiculous and adorable at the same time, nestled safely in the side pocket of my bag.
“Are you ready?” Azerath asked, his voice calm but edged with tension. He would shift first into his dragon form so we could descend quickly and quietly.
I nodded, heart pounding with a mix of fear and fierce determination. “Let’s go get my brother.”
I tucked Blink more securely into the bag, slung it across my body, and followed Azerath out of the small hut. The night air up here was cool and clean, carrying the scent of pine and mountain stone. But I knew that down below, in the lowlands, it would be a different story—poisonous, choking, deadly.
We had only taken a few steps when I saw movement in the shadows below the ridge path. Enforcers. A dozen of them, moving silently in formation. Their armor glinted faintly, and the metal spears they carried shone with a cold silver-white magic.
“We have company,” I whispered urgently.
The Enforcers spotted us almost immediately. Shouts rang out and they began running toward our position, spears leveled, magic crackling along the blades.
I let my Ember flow into my hands, forming two glowing orbs of hot, golden light. Heat built in my palms, ready to release in a searing blast. But before I could throw them, arrows whistled through the air from the darkness.
Three figures burst from the shadows, cloaked in black, moving with lethal precision. They engaged the Enforcers in a blur of steel and magic. Blades clashed. One Enforcer went down with an arrow in his throat. Another staggered as a rebel’s dagger found the gap in his armor. While one succumbed to magical rope wrapped around his neck.
And just as quickly as it began, the fight was over. The surviving Enforcers retreated, dragging their wounded into the mist.
Silence followed.
Then, the three figures turned toward us.
Azerath stepped forward, conjuring a blazing blade of fire that roared to life in his hand. He was ready to strike, wings already beginning to shimmer with the start of his shift.
“Woah,” one of the rebels called out, lowering his weapon slightly. “Is that how you thank the people who just saved your asses?”
He reached up and pulled down his black mask.
Even in the dim moonlight, I instantly recognized those bright blue eyes—like a clear summer sky.
“You’re the one who helped me find my way back to Dust,” I said, lowering my glowing hands. “You gave me a map.”
The young man blinked, confusion crossing his face. “A map? Dust?”
I pulled off my bonnet, letting my distinctive hair tumble free so he could see me clearly. “I was in the carriage with the Dust Collector. You ambushed us while we were passing through a tunnel of trees."
Recognition dawned in his eyes. “Now I remember you.” He stepped closer, sheathing his blade. A small, surprised smile touched his lips. “I’m Ryven.”
My eyes narrowed in suspicion.
There was something about this meeting that felt… too precise.
Timed. Intentional.
The other two rebels— a sturdy woman and a lean man—kept watch, making sure no more Enforcers were approaching. Azerath lowered his fire blade but stayed vigilant.
He didn't trust Ryven.
Ryven glanced at Azerath, then back at me. “I saw the two of you the other night. You’re the ones who caused the riot at Dust."
Before I could reply, Azerath spoke.
“Ryven, before we share anything more about ourselves, tell me this—why are you here, on this side of the ridge? You know there’s a toxic wasteland below. What business brings you here?”