A Wicked Game [The Crown Saga II] (Under Editing)

Templars of the Mist

"What happened to the Caeli board?" I asked.

My weary eyes scoured our surroundings, looking for a wooden board, but the grass concealed nothing. Art hadn't yet answered me, but his pained expression said more than enough.

"I had to send it off to mislead the Durrakals," Art said as he gently pulled me to my feet. "It carried enough of your scent to deceive their noses as I teleported us away from there.

His words pierced my heart.

The board was gone — lying at the bottom of the endless sea or strewn across the wandering mountains in bits and pieces.

It may have been nothing more than a training board, but it had saved my life and possibly aided countless others before me. That era of history has now come to an end.

"Stay seated while we fly," Art said, placing me in the passenger seat of the Zephyr. "The more you move, the faster the poison spreads."

I nodded without uttering a single complaint.

Every bone in my body ached when I moved, so sitting still would be the least of my worries.

We took off and headed further into the enchanting landscape of the Wandering Mountain. They did, however, feel different from when we first arrived. The magic that had previously enthralled me was missing.

They were still majestic and more wondrous than anything that could be found beyond the Graveyard, but I no longer felt inclined to explore them. I winced every time we drew close to a mountain shrouded in anything resembling a mist.

Nothing had yet come close to resembling the mist that had engulfed the Poisonous Haze, but my mind was still anticipating a pair of wings to emerge at any moment.

"Are you sure the Templars are our best option?" I asked, pinching my darkening arm to make sure I could still feel it. "Doesn't the Mist Region have a healer?"

I almost couldn't believe the words that came from my mouth. Art was offering me the chance to meet the Templars — ten of the most powerful Air Wielders in all of Heliac — and I was trying to persuade him to turn around.

"The Templars are your only option, Willow."

I froze. He wasn't saying that just to silence my doubts about his decision. The tinge of worry in his voice convinced me it was more than that.

"You'll need a specific kind of healer who is currently under the protection of the Templars."

"Didn't you say I needed a pure healer?" I asked to downplay the growing pain in my shoulder. "I figured you meant a white-blooded Iridis."

"You'll understand once we arrive," Art said. "Stay still and save your strength. It won't be long now."

It wasn't a straightforward answer, but I'd learned to recognize which fights were worth picking, and this wasn't one of them. Nothing would be able to make him change his answer.

Sweat had begun dampening the flesh of my nape. My body felt feverish despite the cool air that swept over me as the Zephyr pierced the winds. I couldn't tell if it was because I was still in shock after being hunted by the Poisonous Haze or if the poison had begun working through my body again.

I forced my eyes to stay open. Nothing good would come of surrendering to the alluring darkness.

The mountains had changed. They were no longer as lush and diverse as previously, and their shape was taller than the mountains closer to the Graveyard — as if the sky and the sea had been warring for the right to claim the mountains as theirs since the first mountain separated from the Mist Region.