Fury Burns by Chloe Hodge

Author:Chloe Hodge [Hodge, Chloe]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2021-06-22T00:00:00+00:00

A Familiar Face

Ashalea

“I’m dying,” Ashalea moaned as she sat up in bed, Razakh nestled in like a furnace against her side.

Shara rolled her eyes. “So you borrowed the weather for a night and fried a bunch of slimeballs with lightning. Get over it already, it’s been a few days now.”

She frowned at the assassin, who was lounging at the end of the bed, playing a game of catch the grape as she threw each one into the air. The girl only blew her a kiss with a mouthful of juice, and Ashalea nudged her playfully with a foot.

“You’re just jealous you weren’t there to see it first-hand,” Razakh mumbled. “It was spectacular if you could ignore the noise and the smell of burning rot. It’ll take me weeks to rid myself of the scent, you know.”

Ashalea stroked his fur apologetically, letting the pair exchange rebuttals as she pawed the sleep from her eyes. It was too early for arguing, and her muscles were much too stiff to bat them both away. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head before crawling out of bed with a stiffness not akin to corpses in the grips of rigor mortis.

She had slept for a few days after the battle, her energies all but spent on the Magicka used to destroy those foul creatures. Thankfully, this meant she missed cleaning up the mess and the wrath of Kano, whose rage was, according to Shara, ‘like being in a horde of hungry Uulakhs’. Ashalea couldn’t blame him. Dwarves had died in gruesome ways, feasted on like a veritable banquet set out just for the marsh monsters. He had lost good soldiers because the attack had caught them off-guard—his scouts patrolling the southern border of the mountains had been massacred, not one left alive to spread the news of the incoming army.

Vigilance was key now. Mistakes like that could not be repeated, not as every race in Everosia planned to march, leaving their cities vulnerable to attacks. She just hoped the rulers planned accordingly. The elves would have better luck—Magicka came naturally to the gifted mages, and wards could be erected that would, at the very least, provide due warning of any approaching danger.

Denavar knew this, and she suspected he would be taking extra measures on behalf of the mages to ensure all allies were sufficiently protected—at least from the monsters. If the darkness deigned to fight his own battles, things could take a disastrous turn.

Which was why Ashalea would be scouring the city for the next Guardian today. She had felt something the night of the battle—a calling, a thrum of power humming a low chord no one else seemed to hear except Shara and Razakh, who said they had felt the same thing. It had been strongest before the battle truly began, yet with dwarves milling about, and their focus on the task at hand, Ashalea was unable to discern who it came from.

But perhaps today would be different. He was a soldier, that

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