JARON

Northern Silver Sea

Mid-Rainrise

Jaron pulled his overcoat tighter around him, wishing he'd brought a scarf for their journey up north. Although the bitterness of the frostfall season had faded, a chill still lingered in the air, getting colder the farther north they sailed.

They'd almost made it. Finally.

"You have done well, my champion," came his god's whisper. "You are one step closer to achieving your full potential."

Jaron narrowed his eyes as he looked out at the early morning mist creeping across the waves. He'd trained harder than most, he'd obtained the obsidian sword, he'd gathered the Storm. So, he found himself wondering what more he needed to do to reach his full potential and what exactly it was.

"Don't worry your mortal mind over such trivial things," Magnus whispered. "Your reward is coming soon."

Yes, his reward. Magnus would help Jaron find his brother, Alrik. Jaron didn't question how, the thought of seeing his big, round charcoal eyes again was enough for him to do whatever Magnus asked of him.

"Are we nearly there?" the archer asked suddenly from beside him.

Jaron jumped, nearly dropping the spyglass he'd been peering through a moment before. He would never get used to how easy it was for the archer to sneak up on him. He was surprised it hadn't gotten him killed yet. Perhaps she didn't wish death upon him after all.

"Nearly where?" Jaron asked, keeping his gaze on the mist.

"To our destination," the archer replied. "Your demeanor has changed. You're slightly on edge. This must mean we are close to whatever fate you have in store for us."

"You still do not believe that I mean you and the Storm no harm?" Jaron returned his hands to the knobs on the wheel.

"Your mouth says one thing, but your actions say another."

"Do enlighten me as to what actions I have taken to make you believe that."

"Coming into our home and kidnapping Lorelei is the foundation on which you stand, emberblood." Jaron could hear the distaste in her expression without needing to look at her.

"You say emberblood like it's a curse."

"Because you are one," she said viscously.

Jaron looked at her then. She was already watching him, her gaze frostier than usual. As much as he tried, he couldn't wrap his head around why she hated him so much. Perhaps she did want to kill him after all. The thought hit him with an unexpected pang.

"I didn't force you onto this boat back in Smuggler's Harbor," Jaron told her. "I gave you both the option to leave and you both chose to come."

The archer rolled her eyes. "Spare me the freedom of choice. You knew Lorelei would want to come with you to learn how to control her magic and you played into that. Parading it as a choice was only to quell your rising guilt, wasn't it?"

Jaron gripped the wheel tighter, his knuckles white underneath his scarred skin. The archer was just as dangerous with her words as she was with her bow. He'd never met someone so infuriating.

"And pretending to understand my motives will help you believe that I am evil and cruel and all the other horrible things you dream up in your head?" He tried his best to keep from raising his voice, but he couldn't stop the growl in his tone. "You want to know what's evil and cruel, archer? Having to hold your dead sister in your arms after pirates came and pillaged your harbor. Never seeing your brother again because those pirates took him with them. Being utterly and truly alone...and for what? What purpose? Was the loot more important than the lives they ruined?"

The archer parted her lips, then snapped them shut again. She pulled her gaze away from his. "Is that why you enlisted?"

Jaron blinked, her question throwing him off. "Yes," he said. "After losing what I did, I wanted nothing more than to be on the front lines when Incendia attacked Cerulia. I wanted revenge. I wanted to find the ship with those brown sails. But now..."

"Don't let her get into your head," Magnus whispered.

"Now what?" the archer prodded.

"Never mind it," Jaron said, turning his attention completely back to the wheel.

The archer was quiet for a moment, but her eyes were on him, trying to read him. If he could just shut her out completely, then he could bury back down these confusing emotions arising in him.

"I wasn't born in Cerulia," she said. "I was born in the mountains of Ventys to a mother who didn't want me and a father who didn't know I existed."

Jaron glanced back at the archer, watching her face soften as she spoke. He thought he had recognized the etchings on the blade of her sword, but hadn't known too much about Ventys. Neither did the rest of the world since they kept themselves hidden away behind the Frozen Gap.

"I wasn't blessed to be a frostblood and I certainly wasn't blessed with any support, so when I was eleven, I snuck out of the orphanage and stowed away on a trading ship."

She looked past him, as if she were reliving the memory.

"I didn't hide very well and they found me quickly, but I was only a child so the crew on board took me in as their own while we traveled. Feeding me well, clothing me warm, treating me with more kindness than anyone had before. Even at the orphanage, we would have to scrap for food when our caretaker didn't have enough."

She sighed then, tucking her long black hair behind her ear. "The crew didn't even get to unload their shipment in Ice Haven before Incendians attacked."

When the archer mentioned the very place that they were headed, his stomach tightened. He remembered the state of the abandoned island and the realities of what had happened there clicked together in his mind as she continued talking.

"I was hiding in a barrel, silently crying as I listened to everyone around me die. And when everything became quiet, and I finally left that barrel, I saw the crimson sails of the Scarlet Maiden. The Maidens gave me shelter, gave me training and put a bow in my hand."

The archer glanced back at Jaron, the frost in her eyes melting.

"They gave me a purpose."

Jaron was silent for a moment, taking in the archer's story. He had thought he knew so much about the workings of the world and the people who lived in it. He'd deemed all Cerulians as vile and selfish. Perhaps he'd been wrong. Perhaps he'd been taught wrong.

"You're letting the girl trick you," Magnus whispered in his head. "Is it so easy for you to turn your back on your nation over a pair of pretty eyes?"

"No," Jaron replied aloud.

"No?" The archer raised her brow at him. "I suppose that is the sort of response I should expect from you."

She turned to leave and he reached for her without thinking. His fingers delicately circled around her wrist. She stopped and turned, glancing down at his hand before looking back up at him. He quickly let go.

"Wait," he said with a sigh. "I didn't mean to say that. I was...sort of arguing with myself at the moment."

The archer cocked her head.

"Forget about it," Jaron spit out, trying to move on from his slip up. "So, what is it?"

"You continue to confuse me," the archer said, always so serious. Jaron got a glimpse of something new from her a moment ago, and he found himself wanting to see it again.

"What was the purpose they gave you?"

The smallest of smiles pulled at the corner of her mouth while she looked out at the sea. "To protect the family I'd found."

The seawind played with her hair, her face welcoming the glow of the rising sun. He couldn't take his eyes off her and he damned himself for it.

"Lorelei has become a part of that family," she said without looking at him. "That's why I chose to continue on with you. Not for any other reason. Although you have been doing well with training her. Her wind was able to make us sail much faster."

The silence between them was filled with the crash of waves. He pulled his gaze away from her and out to the open water again, spying a shadow in the haze on the horizon.

Jaron cleared his throat. "We've nearly reached our destination." His heart felt oddly heavy at the thought. It's only because you're anxious about what comes next, he told himself. Everything would be fine. His god would ensure it.

The archer watched the growing shadow of an island with him, tension resting between them. It was as if they both wanted to say something, but neither would bend.

"I am sorry for the loss of your family," the archer said, her voice unwavering. "And I admire your determination to avenge them. I only hope that you will not destroy the lives of the innocent for it. Or yourself for that matter."

Or himself? Nothing else mattered except for Alrik and Sera. The thought didn't feel wholly like the truth.

"Don't worry about me," he said.

"Maybe someone should," she told him. He felt her judgmental gaze back on him, assessing him. "There's something off about the sword you carry."

"Focus yourself on your mission," Magnus whispered, his tone holding a bite. "No more games."

Jaron held his tongue even though he wanted to respond to the archer. Perhaps it was for the best.

"Fine then," the archer said, stepping away from him. "Have it your way, emberblood."

Heat rose to his fingertips. He shook his head and let go of the wheel, clenching his fists to make his rising flames recede.

"Wake Lorelei and prepare yourselves for departure," he told her. "We dock in Icehaven soon."

"Icehaven..." the archer's voice trailed off, concern filling her eyes before rushing off to wake Lorelei below deck. Perhaps she had remembered they were enemies.

Good. Jaron would rather her be scared of him than warming up to him. It was best for all parties involved if they continued hating each other.

XX

Icehaven was warmer than when Jaron had left it a couple moons ago, but the wind still held a bite. The snow they trudged through wasn't nearly as deep, but the ground remained frozen beneath them.

As they continued up the hill to the house at the top, Jaron snuck a glance behind him. Lorelei held the furs she wore tight around her, but she was still unable to cover her cheeks and nose, red from the cold wind. The archer stayed close to her, only wearing a jacket as thick as Jaron's. The cold didn't seem to bother her at all, her concern focusing only on Lorelei. When the archer's gaze connected with his, he quickly turned back around.

He quickened his pace to the house, hoping they would keep up. The sooner this was over with, the better.

Jaron stood in front of the door to the ramshackle house, unmoving, while the Storm and the archer crunched through the snow behind him. The home wasn't missing any more nails or wooden slats than it was before, yet he felt more uneasy now than he had then. He almost didn't want to go inside.

"What is this place?" the archer asked, their footsteps coming to a stop. When he didn't answer, she pressed further. "Who is in there waiting for us? I swear if something happens to Lorelei, I will make you regret it in this life and the next."

"It's okay," Lorelei said, her gaze falling onto Jaron. "Jaron offered to help with my storm. He wouldn't bring us harm after extending his hand like that. It would be unforgivable." Either the Storm was incredibly naïve or she was firing a warning shot.

He truthfully did not want to bring the two of them any harm. He'd never lied about that, but he didn't know much about Turncoat except that Magnus trusted him. He didn't even know the entirety of the fire god's plan. For the first time, the thought twisted his stomach. He took a step back.

"Where is your faith?" Magnus whispered. "Remember where you come from."

Alrik's wide eyes and charcoal hair flashed in his mind. Sera's smile as she'd sing shanties she'd heard in the harbor. He'd never forget where he came from, even if he didn't know where he was going. He grabbed the doorknob and opened the door.

The Storm and the archer stayed closed behind Jaron has they made their way through the aisle of lit lanterns and candles, stepping over piles of wax and discarded scrolls.

"Something feels off," Lorelei whispered to the archer. "I don't like it here."

"This will be over soon," the archer whispered back. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."

Jaron tried his best to ignore them, but his sinking guilt wouldn't let him. He took a deep breath and entered the room at the end of the hall.

Turncoat sat in the same chair, but with a different feathered hat. This time he was not alone. Two other men stood behind him, swords at their waist, expressions holding a promise of violence.

"Ahh, you've finally returned," Turncoat said, a smile twisting beneath his mustache. "He'd told me you were nearly here." His gaze went past Jaron to the Storm and the archer who followed in the room behind him. "And you've brought not one, but two? Magnus chose well when selecting his champion."

A gasp rose out of Lorelei. It was so sudden and sharp, Jaron spun to look at her, assuming she'd been hurt. Hate filled her shocked expression as she looked past Jaron at Turncoat. He glanced to the archer who wore the same face, only deadlier.

"You..." Lorelei said, her voice trailing off.

Jaron's mind couldn't keep up. How did these two know this man?

In his confusion, he didn't see the archer reach for his obsidian sword. In a single breath, she unsheathed it from his waist and pointed it at Turncoat.

"You wretched coward," she said through her teeth. "You've been hiding from us this entire time."

Jaron glanced between the two of them, trying to understand what was going on. He looked to the two men behind Turncoat, hands at their own swords, ready to attack if necessary. Jaron focused on the archer, eying his obsidian sword in her hands and hoping she didn't turn it on him.

"Think this through," Jaron told her calmly, hands splayed in surrender. "You're outnumbered." He glanced at the Storm whose face had gone white. "Think of Lorelei," he said quietly.

"What are you mumbling about over there?" Turncoat said. "Give Jaron back his sword already. I swear you and Miss Storm no harm."

"You lot and your promises of no harm," the archer sneered. "If not now, it will only be a matter of time." She took a long glance at Lorelei then sighed in defeat. She shoved the hilt of the sword into Jaron's hand and he took it.

"Don't think I've forgotten what you've done," Lorelei said, her tone dark. "I'm not that powerless girl anymore." Her eyes flickered but it was gone in an instant.

"Keep calm," Jaron said close to her ear. "If you lose control here, you put everyone in danger."

"I don't care," she said under her breath. "This man murdered my mother. He plotted to have me killed. I deserve my vengeance."

Revenge. Wasn't that what he was after? It didn't feel fair that he could be allowed his vengeance and she could not, but he knew it would tear her apart if she hurt her friend while doing so.

"Even if it means hurting the archer?"

Lorelei took a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes. He was proud of the progress she'd made in the past couple of days, letting go of her magic and filling the sails with wind and reeling it back in. It was easier and easier to her each time, and now she was able to calm her storm before it unleashed.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could control himself though. He felt like a man on a journey without a map. He wanted answers now.

"Who are you really?" Jaron asked, facing Turncoat. "I want the truth, not the riddles you speak in."

Turncoat settled back in his chair; his face seemingly amused. "Very well." He curled his fingers into a fist and admired the silver rings he wore. "My name is Dominic Rove. Does the name ring a bell?" He eyed Jaron, waiting for a reaction.

Jaron remembered the parchments on the walls of the forts he'd visited over the years. The lists of wanted pirates and the captains of the fleet crews. The name Dominic Rove had always been at the top.

"You were a captain of the fleet," Jaron said. "You're Cerulian." He struggled to keep up with how fast his mind was moving. "Why would you—why does my god trust you?"

"Aye," Rove said. "I was born there, but I found my beliefs more aligned with that of the Incendian Kingdom and their gods. It isn't just those privileged enough to be born into a royal bloodline who hold their godly magic. Magnus and his brother, Vulcan, bestow their blessing on those they deem worthy."

"I'm well aware of how my people are gifted their embers," Jaron said. "This still doesn't explain why you would betray your nation."

Rove smiled. "Once Magnus is finally risen, then I will be blessed as an emberblood."

"You've always been weak," the archer said with disgust. "So weak, you'd betray us all to strengthen yourself."

"And Lorelei and her mother?" Jaron asked next. "What could possibly be your reason for wanting them both dead? Have you no honor?"

Rove was undisturbed by his questions. "It was a necessary death. Both of theirs were. It was their bloodline that trapped Magnus in the first place and once it left this world, he would've been released. Those plans were thwarted when Miss Storm couldn't stay dead."

Jaron glanced to Lorelei. Tears brimmed her eyes. There was so much he didn't know. He'd been such a fool.

"Wouldn't you do the same?" Rove asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes stared into Jaron's as if he knew the conflict rising inside of him. "If you were promised everything you ever wanted, would you do what needed to be done?"

The question nearly yanked Jaron's boots out from under him. If he could find Alrik... if he could somehow bring back Sera...

"I can," Magnus whispered. "I can ensure you will all be together again. It's only right after what was taken from you."

Rove gave Jaron a nod of understanding.

"Jaron," Lorelei said, nudging him. "Whatever you're thinking, you're not like him."

Yet he was.

He glanced at Lorelei, feeling the archer's eyes on the back of his head. "What would you do to see your mother again?"

Her chin wobbled. He knew she was thinking it over in head.

"You would do nothing like this," the archer interrupted, pulling Lorelei's attention away from him. "Your heart is kind and gentle."

But Lorelei's expression remained unchanged.

"Why are we even here?" the archer asked Rove, ice in her tone. "What do you want from Lorelei?"

"The Storm is always the key," Rove responded, glancing at Lorelei. "And it looks like you've trained her well, Jaron. I can practically feel the storm wanting to burst out of her, yet we're all still unburnt."

"It was your plan all along?" the archer said quietly, her eyes not meeting Jaron's. "You made us believe you truly wanted to help."

"It's not what it looks like," he tried to say, but Rove clapped his hands.

"No more squabbling," he said. "We've already wasted enough time waiting for you to arrive. It's a shame we weren't able to chat further before our departure, but we might have time aboard the brig if you desire."

"I'd rather talk to the potatoes," the archer said, gaining a chuckle from Rove.

But Lorelei remained silent, her eyes remaining locked on Rove. A dark storm brewed inside of her and when she unleashed it, Jaron wasn't sure if anyone would be left standing.