For Mist and Tar (Alchemight Duology Book 1) by Jinapher J. Hoffman

Author:Jinapher J. Hoffman [Hoffman, Jinapher J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2022-09-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter eighteen

Eledar

Alchemight’s moons rest in the sky as Eledar and Soffesa move the last of Imaex’s research to their room at The Bloody Cloth. The boxes and papers litter the ground, rattle as wind whips through the curtains.

Eledar grunts as he sets a box of journals and tomes down beside their bed. He moves to the curtains and ties them together at the bottom before grabbing a stool in the corner and pressing it up against them. It blocks some of the chill, but the room remains frigid. He tugs his cloak around him, his breath coming out in clouds. “Frak, it’s freezing.”

“Shard storm.” Soffesa sets her box down, raises her hands to her hips and blows out a breath. “Always gets like this right before one hits.”

“Strange, it gets so warm in Frales before them.” Eledar ducks his head past the curtains and looks up at the sky. Monstrous black clouds stream across the moons, just as they had in Frales. It’s a wonder how places are so similar yet forever different.

He closes his eyes and listens to the roar of the oncoming storm, pictures himself in Frales. Like bolts of lightening, pain, blood and screams resurface in his mind. He throws his eyes open, shuddering against the cold of Scorus and the creeping heat of anger that darts across his shoulders, tenses his muscles.

“It took awhile for me to get used to it, but with time, you will.” Soffesa grabs a brush from their nightstand and runs it through her hair.

He pulls himself from his anger, blinks away the fury from his vision — the blood-lust that overcomes him and wishes to break free. His fingers itch to wield chemight, to stride into Winloc Grove and cut Aquim’s neck. Patience, he reminds himself. He sucks in a steadying breath, fingers gripping the windowsill. “Doesn’t seem to stop the locals.”

Down in the streets, crowds of Scraps venture into the night.

“Never does. Not when orbs are at stake. Imperials don’t make rounds until the morning, so Scraps use the night to trade for formularies.” She sets the brush down and clears her throat. “You staying up?”

Below, a trio of Scraps light each other on fire. They scream in hysterical madness, before two of them break into a fist fight, the third struggling to pull them apart with a wide smile on her face. The smile alone is enough to render Eledar sleepless.

When is the last time I saw three friends out having fun? Even his night with Vellene was a culture shock. Dancing with her. Kissing her. Feeling her against him — he rolls his shoulders back and shakes his head as if he can shake away the thought of her.

“Eledar?”

He turns, realizing he never answered Soffesa. “Sorry?”

Her eyes narrow. “Your ears are red.”

Eledar curses. He rustles his hair around until it strikes his cheeks and hides his ears.

Soffesa’s lips quirk with amusement.

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. I’m going out.”

She studies his face for another moment, then she shrugs. “Alright, well, I’m crashing.

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