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Clusters of soldiers crowded around tiny fires in the perimeter of the camp, the flickering flames showing me enough to know that they weren’t armed. In fact, many of their weapons were lying carelessly nearby.
Fools.
I crouched low, moving through the tall grasses alongside a tumbling wind, letting it carry me right between two of the guard’s camps where I wouldn’t be noticed.
“How much longer do we have to wait,” a voice drifted over from a guard in the camp to my left, the bulky man poking his fire with his sword.
“Not long. We are at the temple tomorrow.” One of the other guards responded with a yawn, his face contorting awkwardly.
“Eh, but then we have to go all the way back, don’t we?” the first replied, now drawing in the dirt with the tip of his sword. I had never seen anyone misuse a weapon so carelessly. It was almost as if he didn’t care for it, or didn’t need it. Perhaps he didn't, most in the King’s army were Requisites so I would assume these to be. Although, I didn’t see the red robes of the Catalysts anywhere close.
Just a boy with no regard for his weapon.
Scowling, I continued forward, darting behind one wagon and then another as I snuck through their shadows. Unlike the Lightens camp, these wagons had been placed haphazardly through the meadow, the tents as misplaced as the carriages and wagons that transported royal asses and supplies alike. There was no wall of safety, unless you counted the guard camps. Which I didn’t.
Moving through the night as I was, I could not tell which tent was whose, thankfully I had a map of my own, built from the throbbing burn that was pulling me in the direction I needed to go.
I had always disregarded the sensation, even though I recognized the magic, could sense each holder of power and who they were bonded to.
Now, I knew what it was, because I knew who I was.
A Sypher.
A hunter and devourer of magic.
Now I felt them all.
They were all there, but mixed among them was something else, something that reminded me of the pull of the caspyn lilies. Something that there was only one of.
I turned, keeping my cape close as I peered through the dark to the large golden canvas tent, looming like a castle over everything. It was the only one that glowed that color, the only tent that looked as though it had swallowed the sun.
I didn’t need that strong pull to tell me who was there. The power of Lôt was only found in the Ramal and his family, after all.
Dalyah.
She was there. She was close. Her chilled soul only steps away from me, no longer hidden behind the high walls of the Runturin. She was not protected behind dozens of guards. There was nothing to shield her but canvas.
I could finish this now. My magic was strong and healed from my injury. I had no time stored, but that could be solved easily enough. There were enough mindless guards milling about that picking one off and draining a bit of life and time from him would be nothing.
My hands went to my blades, my fingers unlatching them for easy access before I darted forward, moving between tent after tent and wagon after wagon like the wraith that I was. I focused on that tent, on that feeling of bright warm sun that was coming from it. The sensation drowned out all of the sparks from the Requisites that were coming from every angle.
The sun pulled me forward, until one tent away from the golden monstrosity everything changed, and that bright light within me shifted to something different. Something cold. I had never been so cold in my life. I had never felt icy fingers rake over my spine like that, almost as though I was dying. No, as though I was dead.
It took me a moment to realize that the sensation of death was not a part of the ice, but rather was simply near it. Attached perhaps.
Still following that light, I took the last few steps toward the tent, flattening myself to the ground in such a way that anyone looking twice would think me nothing more than a pile of rags.
It was risky to do this, if something was to go wrong I would lose my chance to end her. Ryndle had clearly sent me for a reason, however, and this was it. If I could end her before anything reached that altar, then I would take my chance. The magic that I stored within me screamed as though it was telling me it was ready, too.
Gripping the side of the tent, I lifted it enough that I could peer inside. A slice of light bathed over me, one sliver of vision that was like looking into a different world.
Ornate chairs, rugs, lanterns, and a massive mahogany desk were situated around the tent in such a way that it didn’t appear to be part of a caravan, but rather a room that had been transported from the Runturin itself.
Fucking royals. They were traversing through Okivo to a wedding and they had brought the entire castle with them.
I felt sorry for the servants that would have to lug all this around for no other reason than to serve a woman’s vanity. Well, after I was done perhaps they could bury her with it all.
“Took you long enough,” a male voice snapped, white boots walking mere inches away from where I was peering through the gap in the canvas. As he moved, that bright spark of light I had felt before moved with him.
