Years ago, the Trolls were banished into the Nether, a void of evil and darkness between the magical realms. With their greed and treachery locked away, peace has reigned throughout the worlds. But not for nineteen-year-old witch, Aramina. Being dis...
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I tear my hand from his and shuffle back, groping the ground to aid in my retreat. When my back presses against a tree, I push up with my heels until on my feet.
His eyes narrow and he retracts his hand. "Sorry, if I scared you. You looked like you were in some kind of trouble."
Looked? I flit a quick glance at our surroundings. The sprites are gone.
"So were you?" he asks, his thumbs now tucked into his front pockets. Tension marks his body and I have little doubt that he would've helped had I been in trouble. He looks like a man ready for a fight, one who never loses. His jacket is back on so I can't see his tattoos, to see what coven he belongs to.
His eyebrows arch and I realize I haven't answered his question. Without knowing what coven he's from, I can't be sure if he's a magician or simply a human covered in tattoos that look like a magicians. To reveal the secret of magic to an ordinary human is as bad, if not worse, than cavorting with the enemy.
"I... uh... well, did you see me being attacked?"
His brows lower. "No, I didn't, but you were screaming and—"
"And nothing, I fell. That was all." I brush away the leaves hooked onto my sweater and hair. "I was passing through when I got tangled in the thickets and fell. That's it. No trouble."
His slow nod speaks of disbelief. "And that's why you screamed and scratched the air like something was attacking you?"
"Well, it's a forest." I motion around me with the whirl of a finger. "There are spiders. I thought one got caught in my hair so I— wait, why am I explaining this to you, anyway? I'm fine. I fell, but I'm fine, and I appreciate your concern, but I should go."
"No one's stopping you." He steps aside for me to pass, yet he doesn't leave. Neither do I. I have to, but the sprites...
I dart a glance all around us. They're still out there, watching. I can't see them, but can feel their little eyes on me. The lingering ache of their burn tingles on my skin.
After an entirely too long awkward moment, he chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "Would you like me to walk with you? You know, just in case any spiders happen to jump out from the bushes. I hear they do that sometimes."
Under normal circumstances, I'd call him out for that, but for whatever reason, the sprites didn't attack him. If I want to get out of the forest alive, I need him. "That would be great, thanks..."
"Roane," he says, extending a hand to me. Tattoos paint his hands, brandished with a knuckle duster and a throwing star. He must really have a thing for weapons.
"Thank you, Roane." I slip my hand into his. "I'm—"
My breath is caught. Thoughts of ice and darkness cross my mind and steal my words. The vision unfurls before my eyes like white vapor and wraps itself around me. I'm lost in it, frozen, watching Roane walk down a snowy trail toward a cave at the foot of a mountain. The blackness within the cavern pools and pulses as if alive and waiting. The image of him shifts right before my eyes, morphs into the Great Mistress like a hologram. She stands before the cave entrance. Her blond hair and white robes billow, sparkling in contrast to the deep blackness past her.
