Years ago, the Trolls were banished into the Nether, a void of evil and darkness between the magical realms. With their greed and treachery locked away, peace has reigned throughout the worlds. But not for nineteen-year-old witch, Aramina. Being dis...
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The change between the realms is seamless. If not for the bridge and the trolls, I'd still think I was in the human realm. The bruises that mark my body and the pain that radiates with each step are quick to remind me I'm not. If that wasn't enough proof, the frigid temperatures are a good enough sign. It was the first thing that greeted us; a biting breeze that chilled me deep, made me groan as the breeze brushed past, its nails sharp against my skin. Whatever warmth I'd accumulated from our fight vanished instantly, dragged into the blustering winds that haven't ceased since we crossed. The bushes are thick, and I can barely see the darkening sky. This doesn't stop the cold from mapping its way through the bark and freezing us. I gaze back at the bridge in the distance—Roane confirms we're out of the Nether boundary now—and I consider going back. If the trolls don't kill me, this cold will.
I shift about while plucking at my sleeves, partly for heat, partly to keep from asking Roane what he's discovered in the journal. I'm comforted by the earthy scent of herbs on the fabric, but a burn mark on the sleeve gives me pause. I've never thought much about the day it happened. Aunt Sabana had asked me to look after a tonic that she'd set above an open flame. I'd attempted to stoke the flames as practice in controlling my magic. Instead my powers flared which at the time should've been a giveaway at what was to come. When a magician is about to lose their powers, their connection to the elements become erratic before the link snaps altogether.
I lower my arm and thrust the hood of my jacket over my head. If only doing so would brush away the memories.
"Which way is Convent?" I ask Roane who peruses over one of the maps in Lara's journal.
He follows a trail toward the northern part of mountains with a finger then blindly points straight ahead. "That way, on the other side of Forever."
Forever. The Faerie Kingdom. A thing of childhood tales that's now but a few miles ahead of me.
He closes the book and turns in the opposite direction.
I linger. "What are you doing?"
"We need to go this way, around Forever. "
"But you just said Convent is that way." I motion to the path he'd just confirmed.
"It is, but we need to be alive to get there. " He keeps walking, forces me to jog up alongside him.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"For starters, I'm a Troll, More importantly, you're human and the magic in Forever is too much for a human to handle." He points down to the map, outlining a thick, black like running the length of Forever. The southern part of the map is shaded black with many crisscrossed lines. "You won't feel the effects as much if we skim the border and travel through Cruabeg, the old Troll lands. Cruabeg and Forever are of the same realm."
It's fascinating to see it with my own eyes. We learned of it in history, how ash from the Troll lands crept over the borders of Forever, while also reaching the other realms. Their tinkering with machines was frowned upon, a big reason of why humans were also never accepted as part of the magical races; we'd succumbed to science, technology, and logic.
