The Journey, Book 2; Chapter 5 - Previous Chapter
Chapter 6, Weakness
Gabija's fingers curled around the smooth, weathered wood of her bow, her eyes scanning the camp below with the precision of a hawk. The flickering firelight cast unsettling shadows over the twisted, grotesque forms of the Undgrolls, the savage, cannibalistic creatures that had started to plague the desert area. She could hear their guttural growls, the shrill shrieks of the two women they’d captured echoing in the distance. The stench of decay and blood hung thick in the air, making her stomach turn.
Focus, Gabija, she reminded herself. Focus.
Beside her, Nekonata crouched low. His dark eyes were set with determination, and his hand gripped the hilt of his sword, the cold steel whispering as it slid free from its scabbard. He didn’t look at her, they didn’t need words. They knew their roles by heart.
Nekonata’s mission was simple: sneak into the Undgroll camp, eliminate the guards, and free the women before they were tortured beyond recognition. Gabija’s task was to keep their backs covered. The Undgrolls were monstrous, vicious creatures, but they were also unpredictable, and even the smallest mistake could get them all killed.
Gabija held her breath as she waited for the signal, her keen eyes following the movements of the creatures below. There were six of them circling the fire, laughing in twisted, guttural voices as they toyed with their captives, weak, bruised women who were bound and trembling in the dirt. Gabija’s jaw tightened. She would not let them suffer any longer.
Loki, she thought, lifting her chin ever so slightly toward the sky.
A dark shape flitted through the branches above them, Loki, the raven, his glossy feathers catching the faintest glimmers of starlight. His keen eyes scanned the camp below, watching every movement with a sharpness that only an ancient creature like him could possess. His caw was soft but urgent, a signal that the time had come.
Nekonata moved like a shadow, creeping over a sand dune and between sand-worn boulders. His form was barely more than a whisper in the night air, his every step calculated and careful. Gabija watched for any sign of detection, any movement, any creature turning its head.
Not yet.
Then, a loud screech split the air as one of the Undgrolls lunged at the nearest woman, its gnarled fingers grabbing her by the hair and yanking her head back. Gabija’s heart skipped a beat.
Now.
She exhaled sharply, her fingers releasing the bowstring. The arrow flew, silent and fast, burying itself deep into the back of the Undgroll’s skull. It collapsed like a ragdoll, its body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
The chaos erupted immediately.
"Intruders!" one of the creatures howled, its shrill voice echoing through the camp. Gabija’s second arrow was already on its way before the first one had even hit the ground. It embedded itself into the chest of another Undgroll, sending the beast stumbling backward.
Nekonata moved swiftly in the chaos, his sword flashing in the dim light, a purple streak, using the Falcon’s Guard stance, he slashed and stabbed stepping forward and back, one fell down, he turned his attention to the other, while he was locked in combat the first undgroll got back to its feet. “What the hell?” whispered Neko, he blocked and parried, blocked and parried again. “Come on Tondro, we’ve got this!” He whispered, trying to keep composure, but something in his blade awakened, purple static thunder crept from the hilt to the point of the blade, the undgrolls launched themselves at him, Neko rolled out of the way dodging them and slashed catching both of the creatures with a slash across their chests, almost as if in slow motion their eyes went wide, with loud guttural cry of pain they explode whittled into a pile of ash.
Gabija kept her eyes fixed on the women, who were now wriggling in their bonds, trying to escape the aftermath of the carnage. She quickly shifted her aim, taking down another creature that had managed to crawl back to its feet. A deep satisfaction bloomed in her chest as the last guard fell.
“Nekonata!” she shouted.
He didn’t hesitate. With a final slash, he dispatched the last of the Undgrolls and moved toward the captives. The women’s faces were streaked with tears and dirt, but their eyes, familiar, grateful, were filled with hope.
“I’ll cut the ropes,” he muttered, his voice gruff but soft as he knelt before them. Gabija’s sharp eyes scanned the perimeter, her bow still ready.
Loki swooped low, landing on a nearby branch, his black feathers rustling in the wind. His sharp eyes flicked between Gabija and Nekonata, ever watchful.
With a soft sigh, Gabija dropped her bow and rose to her feet, moving cautiously toward the camp’s edge. Her senses were alert, the feeling of being watched pressing against her skin. The Undgrolls’ numbers had been thinned, but she knew better than to relax too soon.
We’re not safe yet.
“Let’s move quickly,” Nekonata said, his voice low as he helped one of the women to her feet. “The Undgrolls won’t take kindly to us killing their own.”
The women, though weak, stood with assistance, their gazes flicking to the dark forest beyond. They knew what was at stake, and they had no time to waste.
Gabija nodded, her fingers tightening on the handle of her bow. With a final glance toward the burning camp, she turned and led them toward the trees. But as she did, the sound of a low growl reached her ears, one that was much too close.
“To your left Gabija,” Neko pointed to a group of rocks, and they saw more of the creatures heading in their direction. “Go take them to safety, I’ll deal with these.”
Gabija looked at him, realising she didn’t have much choice, nodded her head “Run!” she shouted, already on the move.
Neko carefully ran forward, the creatures hadn’t noticed him yet, he met them almost half way their camp and the rock group they’d come from, he sat crossed legged on the sandy floor with his sword lay gently across his lap and waited for them to notice him.
A creature wearing a red cloak noticed him, and raised a fist to halt everyone..
In a dry dark raspy voice it asked, “Who are you? What do you want?”
Neko stood up with his arms behind his back, clutching the hilt of his sword “Warmth and food,” he replied in a northern accent. “And red wine, if you’ve any of course.”
The red cloak snickered, “We eat only flesh and drink blood... Go elsewhere! Leave now or we eat you!”
“It’s not a wise choice to threaten someone you don’t know. If anything we are curious, we have never seen your kind before.”
By now a large group had gathered and were slowly starting to surround him.
“We are most ancient, older than nasty elves and dung dwarves. Our name is lost in time but we call ourselves Undgrolls from Brimthuntork.”
“Undgrolls!” Whispered Gabija, “They are underground trolls.” She had taken the captives to safety, and sneaked back around so she was behind the enemy.
“And now you will be our supper.”
The clouds covered the sun making everything go momentarily dark. Once the light broke through the clouds again the trolls moved forward in unison.
Gabija notched an arrow and whispered thunder in the ancient language, her arrow changed into a green static arrow. She let it loose and her arrow flew true, the thunder arrow pierced through the heart there was a sizzling sound followed by a loud crackling and the troll's body exploded with a thunderous boom.
Outraged, the trolls attacked. Nekonata drew his sword and parried an attack from a roughly shaped scimitar and sidestepped another.
Santaya and Kristolia charged forward, snapping and biting at wrists and legs. Nekonata pirouetted, spinning his sword above his head decapitating three of the trolls as they reached forward to stab at his chest. Gabija continued to shoot green thunder arrows causing more explosions.
The fighting went on and on. Both Gabija and Nekonata started to receive small injuries, small slashes from the scimitars, with bruises and scratches from where they had been punched and kicked.
Nekonata grew tired and frustrated, he threw his sword blade first into the ground, his senses sharpened, his breathing slowed, his eyes flashed purple and he clapped his hands together “TONDRO!” Two large balls of purple static thunder appeared, they got bigger and bigger, the dead bodies on the floor around his feet started to explode, the impact of the explosions knocked the enemy backwards and blew the tents away from their moorings.
“Nekonata be careful!” Shouted Gabija.
But he wasn’t listening. The two now huge thunder balls started to form into full-sized horses. Gabija gasped in awe at the details of the static purple thunder horses. Nekonata sent them rampaging through the camp after the now scared and scattered trolls.
“Go rescue the rest of the prisoners, I have this under control!”
Gabija nodded, she moved forward and pulled his sword out of the ground. Gabija gracefully and effortlessly parried, stabbed and swung his sword shooting her own small balls of thunder from her right hand.
The women were naked and chained to pegs that had been driven deep into the floors. Five women were still alive and eight dead.
The dead were missing limbs and organs. Neko summoned the power of wind gently lifting the bodies into the air and moving them to the copse of trees, using magic he buried them in an unmarked grave. By the time he got back to the camp, the surviving prisoners were long gone and Gabija was inspecting the weapons of the trolls..
“You are pretty reckless when doing magic, awesome but reckless.”
Nekonata shrugged, picking up his wineskin.
The smoke from the smoldering Undgroll camp clung to the air like a heavy shroud, but Nekonata and Gabija didn’t flinch. The battle had left its mark on the land, blood soaked into the earth, the charred remains of the creatures still hissing where fire had touched their flesh. Yet, they moved forward without hesitation, their eyes scanning every corner of the camp for clues.
Nekonata’s boots made no sound against the dirt as he crouched near the firepit, his dark eyes sharp as he examined the smoldering embers. The creatures’ crude weapons lay scattered across the ground, half-forgotten in the chaos of their last moments. Gabija moved silently behind him, her bow slung across her back, her mind racing.
They knew the Undgrolls didn’t operate alone, not usually. Whoever had sent them, whoever had commanded their savage rampage, was still out there. The attack had been too coordinated, too deliberate. It wasn’t just a random raid.
“We need to find out who’s behind this,” Gabija murmured, kneeling beside Nekonata as he carefully lifted a twisted piece of metal from the fire.
“You think these creatures were a distraction?” he asked, his voice low, barely above a whisper, but with an edge of suspicion.
Gabija didn’t respond immediately, her fingers tracing the outline of a strange, rune-carved dagger that had been left in the dirt, half-hidden beneath a bloodstained cloak. The craftsmanship was too fine for Undgrolls. No, this weapon belonged to someone else—someone who knew magic, knew strategy.
“Not a distraction,” she said at last. “A message.”
Nekonata frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. He set the piece of metal back down, his attention shifting toward the half-burnt remnants of a map scattered across the ground. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but the edges had been singed by the fire. He carefully unfolded it, his fingers tracing the outline of a familiar region,one that bordered the lands of the Cartakunthor, a notorious and secretive faction.
"Cartakunthor," Gabija muttered under her breath. "But why?."
Nekonata looked up sharply. "I don’t know who Cartakunthor is, you think that's who sent them?"
Gabija didn’t answer right away. Instead, she lifted the map from the ground, scanning it once more. There were marks on it, runes, symbols she didn’t immediately recognize, drawn with deliberate care. But it was the center of the map that caught her attention: a large, jagged symbol of a crescent moon within a circle, surrounded by a ring of smaller marks. She had seen this before.
"Yes," she said quietly, her voice grim. "This is their mark. But it’s not just them…"
“This dagger,” Loki murmured, his voice low but carrying an undeniable weight, “wasn't just forged. It was designed for a purpose. A very specific one.” His fingers tightened around the hilt before he continued. “It’s a marker. A marker of a path, and of a people… the Undgrolls.”
He stepped back, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map with new focus, the tip of his feathered wing running over a faded route drawn in red ink.
“These creatures, these… monsters… they weren’t born of nature, nor some forgotten magic. They were summoned. Created. And their origin…” He paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, heavy with the gravity of the revelation. “They were sent by the one we call the Corruptor.”
The fire flickered in the silence that followed his statement. A low hiss of wind blew through the camp seemed to agree with the gravity of what Loki had just shared. The others exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of the name.
Loki looked up into the sky at the full moon. “I take it none of you have heard the tales of the Corruptor? That’s no surprise. Time has a way of burying the past.”
He glanced at the map again, tapping the dagger’s hilt against it, making the faintest of marks on its surface.
“The Corruptor,” he continued, the name now tasting like venom on his tongue, “was once one of the highest among the ancient elves. They were as noble as they were powerful—until he sought more. Power beyond the reach of even the gods. And like all who crave such ambition, he betrayed everything he once held dear.” His gaze flickered back to the dagger, then to the map again. “The Undgrolls? His doing. His... legacy.”
The map, Loki now realized, was more than just a guide. It was a testament to that very betrayal. The routes drawn in crimson were a trail left behind by the Corruptor’s twisted plans. A trail of corruption, of chaos, and of death.
“His influence still lingers,” Loki said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. “And the Undgrolls are only the beginning. These creatures… these abominations, they’re his army. The corruptor managed to escape his prison somehow, and now he wants revenge against those who imprisoned him.”
He dropped his wing from the dagger, and for the first time, there was no glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Only cold, unflinching determination. “We don’t just have one arsewhole to contend with… now we have two…” Loki glanced at the dagger and map one more time before jumping and flying back into the sky.
Chapter 6, Weakness
Gabija's fingers curled around the smooth, weathered wood of her bow, her eyes scanning the camp below with the precision of a hawk. The flickering firelight cast unsettling shadows over the twisted, grotesque forms of the Undgrolls, the savage, cannibalistic creatures that had started to plague the desert area. She could hear their guttural growls, the shrill shrieks of the two women they’d captured echoing in the distance. The stench of decay and blood hung thick in the air, making her stomach turn.
Focus, Gabija, she reminded herself. Focus.
Beside her, Nekonata crouched low. His dark eyes were set with determination, and his hand gripped the hilt of his sword, the cold steel whispering as it slid free from its scabbard. He didn’t look at her, they didn’t need words. They knew their roles by heart.
Nekonata’s mission was simple: sneak into the Undgroll camp, eliminate the guards, and free the women before they were tortured beyond recognition. Gabija’s task was to keep their backs covered. The Undgrolls were monstrous, vicious creatures, but they were also unpredictable, and even the smallest mistake could get them all killed.
Gabija held her breath as she waited for the signal, her keen eyes following the movements of the creatures below. There were six of them circling the fire, laughing in twisted, guttural voices as they toyed with their captives, weak, bruised women who were bound and trembling in the dirt. Gabija’s jaw tightened. She would not let them suffer any longer.
Loki, she thought, lifting her chin ever so slightly toward the sky.
A dark shape flitted through the branches above them, Loki, the raven, his glossy feathers catching the faintest glimmers of starlight. His keen eyes scanned the camp below, watching every movement with a sharpness that only an ancient creature like him could possess. His caw was soft but urgent, a signal that the time had come.
Nekonata moved like a shadow, creeping over a sand dune and between sand-worn boulders. His form was barely more than a whisper in the night air, his every step calculated and careful. Gabija watched for any sign of detection, any movement, any creature turning its head.
Not yet.
Then, a loud screech split the air as one of the Undgrolls lunged at the nearest woman, its gnarled fingers grabbing her by the hair and yanking her head back. Gabija’s heart skipped a beat.
Now.
She exhaled sharply, her fingers releasing the bowstring. The arrow flew, silent and fast, burying itself deep into the back of the Undgroll’s skull. It collapsed like a ragdoll, its body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
The chaos erupted immediately.
"Intruders!" one of the creatures howled, its shrill voice echoing through the camp. Gabija’s second arrow was already on its way before the first one had even hit the ground. It embedded itself into the chest of another Undgroll, sending the beast stumbling backward.
Nekonata moved swiftly in the chaos, his sword flashing in the dim light, a purple streak, using the Falcon’s Guard stance, he slashed and stabbed stepping forward and back, one fell down, he turned his attention to the other, while he was locked in combat the first undgroll got back to its feet. “What the hell?” whispered Neko, he blocked and parried, blocked and parried again. “Come on Tondro, we’ve got this!” He whispered, trying to keep composure, but something in his blade awakened, purple static thunder crept from the hilt to the point of the blade, the undgrolls launched themselves at him, Neko rolled out of the way dodging them and slashed catching both of the creatures with a slash across their chests, almost as if in slow motion their eyes went wide, with loud guttural cry of pain they explode whittled into a pile of ash.
Gabija kept her eyes fixed on the women, who were now wriggling in their bonds, trying to escape the aftermath of the carnage. She quickly shifted her aim, taking down another creature that had managed to crawl back to its feet. A deep satisfaction bloomed in her chest as the last guard fell.
“Nekonata!” she shouted.
He didn’t hesitate. With a final slash, he dispatched the last of the Undgrolls and moved toward the captives. The women’s faces were streaked with tears and dirt, but their eyes, familiar, grateful, were filled with hope.
“I’ll cut the ropes,” he muttered, his voice gruff but soft as he knelt before them. Gabija’s sharp eyes scanned the perimeter, her bow still ready.
Loki swooped low, landing on a nearby branch, his black feathers rustling in the wind. His sharp eyes flicked between Gabija and Nekonata, ever watchful.
With a soft sigh, Gabija dropped her bow and rose to her feet, moving cautiously toward the camp’s edge. Her senses were alert, the feeling of being watched pressing against her skin. The Undgrolls’ numbers had been thinned, but she knew better than to relax too soon.
We’re not safe yet.
“Let’s move quickly,” Nekonata said, his voice low as he helped one of the women to her feet. “The Undgrolls won’t take kindly to us killing their own.”
The women, though weak, stood with assistance, their gazes flicking to the dark forest beyond. They knew what was at stake, and they had no time to waste.
Gabija nodded, her fingers tightening on the handle of her bow. With a final glance toward the burning camp, she turned and led them toward the trees. But as she did, the sound of a low growl reached her ears, one that was much too close.
“To your left Gabija,” Neko pointed to a group of rocks, and they saw more of the creatures heading in their direction. “Go take them to safety, I’ll deal with these.”
Gabija looked at him, realising she didn’t have much choice, nodded her head “Run!” she shouted, already on the move.
Neko carefully ran forward, the creatures hadn’t noticed him yet, he met them almost half way their camp and the rock group they’d come from, he sat crossed legged on the sandy floor with his sword lay gently across his lap and waited for them to notice him.
A creature wearing a red cloak noticed him, and raised a fist to halt everyone..
In a dry dark raspy voice it asked, “Who are you? What do you want?”
Neko stood up with his arms behind his back, clutching the hilt of his sword “Warmth and food,” he replied in a northern accent. “And red wine, if you’ve any of course.”
The red cloak snickered, “We eat only flesh and drink blood... Go elsewhere! Leave now or we eat you!”
“It’s not a wise choice to threaten someone you don’t know. If anything we are curious, we have never seen your kind before.”
By now a large group had gathered and were slowly starting to surround him.
“We are most ancient, older than nasty elves and dung dwarves. Our name is lost in time but we call ourselves Undgrolls from Brimthuntork.”
“Undgrolls!” Whispered Gabija, “They are underground trolls.” She had taken the captives to safety, and sneaked back around so she was behind the enemy.
“And now you will be our supper.”
The clouds covered the sun making everything go momentarily dark. Once the light broke through the clouds again the trolls moved forward in unison.
Gabija notched an arrow and whispered thunder in the ancient language, her arrow changed into a green static arrow. She let it loose and her arrow flew true, the thunder arrow pierced through the heart there was a sizzling sound followed by a loud crackling and the troll's body exploded with a thunderous boom.
Outraged, the trolls attacked. Nekonata drew his sword and parried an attack from a roughly shaped scimitar and sidestepped another.
Santaya and Kristolia charged forward, snapping and biting at wrists and legs. Nekonata pirouetted, spinning his sword above his head decapitating three of the trolls as they reached forward to stab at his chest. Gabija continued to shoot green thunder arrows causing more explosions.
The fighting went on and on. Both Gabija and Nekonata started to receive small injuries, small slashes from the scimitars, with bruises and scratches from where they had been punched and kicked.
Nekonata grew tired and frustrated, he threw his sword blade first into the ground, his senses sharpened, his breathing slowed, his eyes flashed purple and he clapped his hands together “TONDRO!” Two large balls of purple static thunder appeared, they got bigger and bigger, the dead bodies on the floor around his feet started to explode, the impact of the explosions knocked the enemy backwards and blew the tents away from their moorings.
“Nekonata be careful!” Shouted Gabija.
But he wasn’t listening. The two now huge thunder balls started to form into full-sized horses. Gabija gasped in awe at the details of the static purple thunder horses. Nekonata sent them rampaging through the camp after the now scared and scattered trolls.
“Go rescue the rest of the prisoners, I have this under control!”
Gabija nodded, she moved forward and pulled his sword out of the ground. Gabija gracefully and effortlessly parried, stabbed and swung his sword shooting her own small balls of thunder from her right hand.
The women were naked and chained to pegs that had been driven deep into the floors. Five women were still alive and eight dead.
The dead were missing limbs and organs. Neko summoned the power of wind gently lifting the bodies into the air and moving them to the copse of trees, using magic he buried them in an unmarked grave. By the time he got back to the camp, the surviving prisoners were long gone and Gabija was inspecting the weapons of the trolls..
“You are pretty reckless when doing magic, awesome but reckless.”
Nekonata shrugged, picking up his wineskin.
The smoke from the smoldering Undgroll camp clung to the air like a heavy shroud, but Nekonata and Gabija didn’t flinch. The battle had left its mark on the land, blood soaked into the earth, the charred remains of the creatures still hissing where fire had touched their flesh. Yet, they moved forward without hesitation, their eyes scanning every corner of the camp for clues.
Nekonata’s boots made no sound against the dirt as he crouched near the firepit, his dark eyes sharp as he examined the smoldering embers. The creatures’ crude weapons lay scattered across the ground, half-forgotten in the chaos of their last moments. Gabija moved silently behind him, her bow slung across her back, her mind racing.
They knew the Undgrolls didn’t operate alone, not usually. Whoever had sent them, whoever had commanded their savage rampage, was still out there. The attack had been too coordinated, too deliberate. It wasn’t just a random raid.
“We need to find out who’s behind this,” Gabija murmured, kneeling beside Nekonata as he carefully lifted a twisted piece of metal from the fire.
“You think these creatures were a distraction?” he asked, his voice low, barely above a whisper, but with an edge of suspicion.
Gabija didn’t respond immediately, her fingers tracing the outline of a strange, rune-carved dagger that had been left in the dirt, half-hidden beneath a bloodstained cloak. The craftsmanship was too fine for Undgrolls. No, this weapon belonged to someone else—someone who knew magic, knew strategy.
“Not a distraction,” she said at last. “A message.”
Nekonata frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. He set the piece of metal back down, his attention shifting toward the half-burnt remnants of a map scattered across the ground. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but the edges had been singed by the fire. He carefully unfolded it, his fingers tracing the outline of a familiar region,one that bordered the lands of the Cartakunthor, a notorious and secretive faction.
"Cartakunthor," Gabija muttered under her breath. "But why?."
Nekonata looked up sharply. "I don’t know who Cartakunthor is, you think that's who sent them?"
Gabija didn’t answer right away. Instead, she lifted the map from the ground, scanning it once more. There were marks on it, runes, symbols she didn’t immediately recognize, drawn with deliberate care. But it was the center of the map that caught her attention: a large, jagged symbol of a crescent moon within a circle, surrounded by a ring of smaller marks. She had seen this before.
"Yes," she said quietly, her voice grim. "This is their mark. But it’s not just them…"
“This dagger,” Loki murmured, his voice low but carrying an undeniable weight, “wasn't just forged. It was designed for a purpose. A very specific one.” His fingers tightened around the hilt before he continued. “It’s a marker. A marker of a path, and of a people… the Undgrolls.”
He stepped back, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map with new focus, the tip of his feathered wing running over a faded route drawn in red ink.
“These creatures, these… monsters… they weren’t born of nature, nor some forgotten magic. They were summoned. Created. And their origin…” He paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, heavy with the gravity of the revelation. “They were sent by the one we call the Corruptor.”
The fire flickered in the silence that followed his statement. A low hiss of wind blew through the camp seemed to agree with the gravity of what Loki had just shared. The others exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of the name.
Loki looked up into the sky at the full moon. “I take it none of you have heard the tales of the Corruptor? That’s no surprise. Time has a way of burying the past.”
He glanced at the map again, tapping the dagger’s hilt against it, making the faintest of marks on its surface.
“The Corruptor,” he continued, the name now tasting like venom on his tongue, “was once one of the highest among the ancient elves. They were as noble as they were powerful—until he sought more. Power beyond the reach of even the gods. And like all who crave such ambition, he betrayed everything he once held dear.” His gaze flickered back to the dagger, then to the map again. “The Undgrolls? His doing. His... legacy.”
The map, Loki now realized, was more than just a guide. It was a testament to that very betrayal. The routes drawn in crimson were a trail left behind by the Corruptor’s twisted plans. A trail of corruption, of chaos, and of death.
“His influence still lingers,” Loki said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. “And the Undgrolls are only the beginning. These creatures… these abominations, they’re his army. The corruptor managed to escape his prison somehow, and now he wants revenge against those who imprisoned him.”
He dropped his wing from the dagger, and for the first time, there was no glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Only cold, unflinching determination. “We don’t just have one arsewhole to contend with… now we have two…” Loki glanced at the dagger and map one more time before jumping and flying back into the sky.
The Journey, Book 2; Chapter 7
Chapter 7; White-wind Tara was standing in the centre of the training arena, sweating and breathing heavily. Jason had been drilling making her practice the Falcon’s Guard time and time again, throwing different scenarios at her, Elqiana watched from the opposite end of the arena, her huge...
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