Page 14 of Magic Undaunted

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Page 14 of Magic Undaunted

Elyria was glad of the blindfold; she couldn’t let him see the turmoil raging inside her.

The rebel camp was nestled deep in the Whispering Woods, hidden beneath the thick canopy of trees and shrouded by magic that kept it off the radar of the High Council and the mage’s forces. The moment they arrived, Elyria’s team sprang into action, tending to the rescued fae and securing the perimeter.

Elowen, the camp’s healer, rushed to the injured with a practiced calm, her hands glowing with soft magic as she began to work. Elyria watched as Elowen carefully examined the prisoners, her brow furrowing as she uncovered more than just physical wounds.

“These fae…” Elowen whispered, her voice barely audible as she tended to a young fae who had been caught in the mage’s grip. “The magic that’s been used on them—it’s unnatural, evilly twisted. Their energy has been drained in ways I’ve never seen. Whatever experiments the mage is conducting, it’s far more dangerous than we realized.”

Elyria’s stomach twisted as she watched Elowen’s magic flow over the injured fae. “Can you heal them?”

“I can try,” Elowen said, her voice grim. “But this isn’t just about physical wounds. It’s like their very essence has been tampered with. The mage is using their magic, but for what, I can’t say.”

Elyria’s chest tightened. This was worse than she had feared. The rogue mage wasn’t just capturing fae—he was using them, manipulating their magic in ways that went beyond anything they had encountered before. And if what she’d overheard was correct, he was building a weapon. A weapon that could shift the balance of power in Celestia and beyond.

Her thoughts turned back to Stryker. He had been caught in the middle of this, and that meant he knew something. Something important.

Elyria turned away from the injured fae, her mind spinning as she made her way to the secluded corner of the camp where Stryker had been taken after he’d dismissed the healer, saying his injuries could wait. Finnian was already there, standing guard outside the tent, his arms crossed over his chest.

“This is a mistake,” Finnian said, his voice low and angry as she approached.

“So you’ve said.”

“He’s dangerous, Elyria. You can’t trust him. The others are already talking. They think you’re protecting him.”

Elyria stopped in front of Finnian, her gaze hard. “What if I am? Last time I checked, I was still leader here. Besides, I’m not protecting him. I’m getting answers.”

Finnian’s eyes narrowed. “And you think you can do that without letting your feelings get in the way?”

She snorted disdainfully. “This isn’t about my feelings, Finnian. This is about finding out what we need to know. I’ll do what needs to be done.”

Finnian studied her for a long moment, his jaw clenched, before finally stepping aside. “I hope you’re right.”

Elyria pushed past him, ignoring the pang of guilt that twisted in her chest as she entered the tent. Inside, Stryker was seated on a small bench, his blindfold and restraints removed. His face was pale but alert. The sight of him, even now, sent a jolt of something hot and dangerous through her, a reminder of all the things she had tried so hard to bury.

He looked up as she entered, his dark eyes locking onto hers, and the tension between them coiled tight. “I don’t think your second-in-command likes me.”

“Finn? He hates your guts.”

Stryker chuckled. “Well, just so long as we’re clear on that. What’s not so readily apparent is whether you are going to interrogate me, Elyria?” Stryker asked, his voice laced with something she couldn’t quite place. Amusement? Challenge? Desire?

She forced herself to remain calm—something she seemed to be doing quite a lot of lately. “I’m going to find out what you know,” she said, stepping closer, her pulse thrumming with a mixture of frustration and something far more dangerous. “The mage has been experimenting on fae—using their magic for something bigger. I need to know what you know.”

Stryker’s gaze never wavered, and for a moment, the silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

“You think I have answers,” he said quietly, his eyes darkening as they roamed over her face. “But the truth is, I don’t know anything for certain. I was sent to investigate, just like you.”

Elyria’s frustration flared. “You must know something. You were captured—by his forces.”

Stryker’s jaw tightened, his shoulders shifting slightly. “I know the mage is building a weapon. And I know it’s powerful enough to destroy both the Council and the rebels.”

Her breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest. “And you were going to stop him? By yourself?”

Stryker’s eyes softened, something like regret flickering there. “That was the plan.”

“Your plan was a dismal failure.”

Again, Ryker chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to become a prisoner myself.”

Elyria stepped closer, her emotions a storm of conflict. The pull between them was unbearable, the heat that simmered between their words incendiary. She had spent so long runningfrom her feelings, from the memories of what they had shared, but now, with him here—so close, so dangerous—everything came rushing back.


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