The Sovereign Chronicles novel Chapter 14

Kaelen navigated the dim, moisture-choked expanse of the forest with lethal precision, sticking entirely to the densest shadows and overgrown gullies. He knew his geographic knowledge of these woods was vastly inferior to the Veridian Acolyte, Corin. Furthermore, they wouldn't make the same arrogant mistakes as before. They were likely rigging traps or setting up crossfires, waiting for him to step out of line. One careless footfall could end him.

Despite his extreme caution, the forest was unforgiving. He was forced to endure several ambushes from native Spirit Beasts. During one particularly close call, while actively evading the hunting perimeter of a Mist-Stalker Panther, a Shadowhawk plummeted from the canopy, tearing through the branches like a black missile. Its obsidian talons missed decapitating him by mere inches.

He pushed forward relentlessly. After two full days and nights of tracking, he hadn't found a single trace of Moria or Corin. He did, however, spot several other Azure Sky harvesting squads.

To avoid any unnecessary complications, Kaelen gave them a wide berth.

By noon on the third day, Kaelen struck gold. He unearthed a Wild Mandrake as thick as a man's forearm. Held up to the slivers of sunlight piercing the canopy, its intricate internal Aether-veins were clearly visible. This was undoubtedly an Aether-flora. Even if it didn't quite reach the 'Lesser' tier, it was a premium specimen among Minor Aether-flora.

"Skitter... skitter..."

A disturbing, rhythmic clicking echoed from the damp undergrowth ahead. Kaelen instantly stowed the Mandrake. Peering through the foliage, he drew a sharp breath.

A colony of Crimson-Eye Venomspitters.

Each arachnid was the size of a bull calf. Their obsidian exoskeletons gleamed with a sickening, oily sheen in the filtered light. Their twin, blood-red compound eyes glowed like embers in the gloom. Their eight legs were thick, rigid, and barbed—looking less like limbs and more like a bundle of steel javelins.

One or two Venomspitters was a hazard. An entire colony of thirty to fifty roaming the forest floor was a death sentence.

He had wandered right into their hunting grounds.

Suppressing his aura and breathing, Kaelen began a microscopic, agonizingly slow retreat.

By a stroke of pure luck, the Venomspitters remained oblivious, lazily patrolling their territory.

"Where exactly did Moria crawl off to? Did she link up with the other squads?"

Kaelen continued his silent prowl, moving in staggered bursts, constantly flaring his Aether-senses to sweep the environment.

Suddenly, the faint, metallic scent of fresh blood caught his attention. It was drifting from a clearing up ahead.

"What is he doing here?"

Kaelen scaled a nearby oak and crouched in the canopy, his eyes locking onto the scene below.

Slumped against the massive roots of a rotting tree was a man, soaked in his own blood. His head was tilted back, his face frozen in a mask of absolute terror, his dead eyes staring blindly into the canopy.

It was the rugged Initiate from Corin's squad.

"What happened?" Kaelen scanned the perimeter with his Aether-senses to ensure the area was clear before dropping down and approaching the corpse.

It was definitely him. He hadn't been dead long; the blood pooling beneath him was still warm.

The surrounding dirt and brush showed signs of a scuffle, but the area of effect was small. The execution had been rapid and completely overwhelming.

"Who put him down? Was it Corin, or..." Kaelen suddenly noticed a secondary trail of blood droplets leading deeper into the brush. Gripping The Daevan Blade tight, he followed the trail. The crimson spots were erratic, eventually leading toward a babbling brook where the mud was churned up by a dozen heavy boot prints.

Just then, a shrill scream pierced the air, followed by the booming, vulgar laughter of several men.

Kaelen's brow furrowed. He vanished into the brush, tracking the noise.

Up ahead lay a secluded, picturesque valley, choked with blooming wildflowers and framed by elegant saplings. The scenery was breathtaking, but the events transpiring within were utterly vile.

A squad of Mercenaries had captured Moria and Corin.

Corin was face-down in the mud, a massive boot planted firmly on his spine. The boot belonged to a heavily scarred, hulking man who was currently admiring the blade in his hands. "Now this is a blade! Hahaha, look at this edge! Say what you will about the Azure Sky Sanctum, their run-dogs carry premium steel. This piece alone will fetch ten thousand gold pieces!"

"Keep the sword. Just let me go! Let us both go!" Corin writhed in the dirt, coughing up blood.

"Oh? Changed our tune, have we? You were spitting a lot of venom a minute ago. That arrogance broke fast." The towering man kicked Corin in the ribs, sending him sprawling.

Corin curled into a pathetic ball. "I am an Upper Initiate of Mount Veridia! I am slated to become a Prime Initiate! If you kill me, the Azure Sky Sanctum will hunt you to the ends of the earth. Walk away now. Take the sword. I will swear on my life that none of this ever happened."

"Release you today, so you can bring a Sanctum death squad to our camp tomorrow? I've gutted a dozen pampered aristocrats just like you. Don't insult my intelligence. The second we drew steel, your fate was sealed." The hulking man—The Reaver Captain—laughed as he casually unbuckled his leather cuirass, revealing a torso mapped with brutal scars. He strode leisurely toward the center of the wildflower patch.

"No... stay back..." Moria lay pinned in the flowers, her Aether reserves completely drained, her body battered.

Seven other Mercenaries formed a ring around her, their eyes raking over her curves like starving wolves, completely unable to hide their vile intent.

"Gods, look at the skin on her. She's practically glowing. I can't take this much longer."

"Those Sanctum aristocrats sure know how to breed them. Look at her. I'm burning up just staring."

"A piece like this? In a high-end brothel, she'd command a hundred gold for a single night. Boys, the gods are smiling on us today. Even if the Sanctum hunts us down tomorrow, dying after a taste of this is a fair trade."

"Captain, get on with it! Once you pop the cherry, the rest of us want our turn."

The Mercenaries were practically frothing at the mouth, barely restraining themselves from tearing her apart. None of them had ever laid eyes on a woman of this caliber. Her features were spellbinding, her legs long and flawless, her waist impossibly slender. She was a living masterpiece.

They stared at her like a pack of rabid dogs cornering prime meat, swallowing hard.

Moria was drowning in absolute despair. For the first time in her life, she cursed her own beauty. She had only joined this miserable expedition to torture and execute Kaelen. She never, in her darkest nightmares, imagined she would end up here. If she had known, she would have never stepped foot outside the Sanctum.

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