SHADOWS OF LEGACY, THE CLOVER MAGE'S RECKONING.

Chapter 9:

The skeletons attacked.

Purple fire exploded from their hands. Thorne threw himself sideways, rolling, coming up in a crouch. The fire hit the ground where he'd been standing, and the earth turned black and smoke.

He grabbed a piece of broken wood from the wreckage nearby. Not much of a weapon, but better than nothing.

The skeletons circled him, moving in opposite directions. Trying to flank him. Their movements were smooth, coordinated. They'd done this before.

The one on his left attacked first. A bolt of purple energy shot toward him.

Thorne swung the board. It connected with the energy blast, and the wood exploded into splinters. But it deflected the attack enough that it missed him by inches.

The one on his right was already casting. Thorne ducked, feeling heat pass over his head. He rolled forward, inside the skeleton's reach, and drove his shoulder into its ribcage.

The bones rattled. The skeleton staggered back.

But it didn't fall.

It grabbed Thorne's arm with one hand. The touch was ice-cold, burning in a different way than fire. Frost spread across Thorne's skin instantly.

Thorne twisted, breaking the grip, and punched. His fist connected with the skeleton's skull. Pain exploded through his knuckles. Like punching solid 

stone.

The skeleton's head snapped to the side. But it just turned back, unhurried, and raised its hand again.

Thorne was already moving. He dove, rolled, and came 

up running.

The other skeleton cut off his escape. More purple fire. Thorne couldn't dodge this time,too close and too fast.

The fire hit him in the chest.

He flew backward. Hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Pain spread across his chest like someone had pressed a hot iron against it.

He tried to get up. His arms wouldn't work right. Everything hurts.

The skeletons walked toward him. Slow and deliberate. They knew he was finished.

Thorne managed to push himself up to his knees. His vision swam. Blood dripped from his mouth,he must have bitten his tongue when he fell.

He tried to stand. Made it halfway before his legs gave out.

The skeletons stopped in front of him. One raised its hand. Purple energy gathered, brighter than before. This would be the killing blow.

Thorne looked up at them. His vision was going dark at the edges.

‘So this is how I die.’

Not by his uncle's hand. Not after seeking revenge. Just... here. In the dirt. Alone.

He almost laughed. After everything. After ten years. It ended like this.

The skeleton's hand came down.

Then a blast of white light tore through the air.

The light hit the skeleton dead center. Its bones exploded outward, the black cloak disintegrating into ash. The purple light in its eye sockets flickered and died.

The second skeleton turned toward the source of the attack.

Another blast. This one caught it in the spine. It collapsed, bones clattering to the ground.

Thorne's blurry vision tried to focus. There was someone standing in the smoke. A figure in a hooded cloak, something glowing in their hand.

The figure ran toward him.

"No time. We need to move."

The voice was muffled by the cloak. Young. Female.

Hands grabbed him. Surprisingly strong. They hauled him up, and Thorne felt himself being draped over the figure's shoulder.

"Wait…" 

His voice came out as a croak.

"Be quiet. Save your strength."

They were moving. Running. The world bounced with each step. Thorne tried to focus, tried to see where they were going, but his vision kept fading in and out.

The last thing he remembered before darkness took him was the feeling of being lowered onto something soft. A voice above him saying something he couldn't quite make out.

Then nothing.

Drip!

Drip!

Drip!

The sound pulled him back slowly. Each drop of water hitting stone, regular as a heartbeat.

Thorne's eyes snapped open.

He was staring at a rough stone ceiling. Not mine,the texture was different. Natural cave, not carved. Dim light flickered from somewhere to his left. A candle or small fire.

He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Pain lanced through his chest, his back, his arms. Everything hurts.

But he managed it. Pushed himself up until he was sitting, his back against the cool stone wall behind him.

He was on a bed. Or what passed for one,a rough frame of wood with blankets piled on it. Not comfortable, but leagues better than the thin mat he'd slept on in the mines.

His chest was bandaged. Clean white cloth wrapped around his torso. He touched it gingerly and felt the sting of whatever wounds lay beneath.

His arms were bandaged too. And when he shifted, he felt more wrappings on his back.

Someone had patched him up. 

*Where am I?*

The cave was small. Maybe fifteen feet across. The walls were rough, but there were signs of habitation,supplies stacked in one corner, a pack leaning against the wall, cooking utensils hanging from pegs driven into the stone.

Movement near the entrance.

Thorne's head snapped toward it. His muscles tensed, ready to fight or flee despite the pain.

A figure ducked through the low opening, that same hooded cloak covering them from head to toe. They were carrying something,a water skin and what looked like more bandages.

They froze when they saw Thorne sitting up.

"You're awake."

 The voice was definitely female. Young. Surprised but not alarmed.

Thorne pushed himself fully upright, ignoring the protests from his body. 

"Who are you?"

The figure set down the water skin and bandages. Then, slowly, reached up and pulled back the hood.

Hair the color of autumn leaves spilled out. Auburn, catching the candlelight. A face that Thorne recognized immediately.

The girl from the gathering hall. The one he'd saved from Garrett.

But that wasn't what made his eyes widen.

It was her ears.

They came to elegant points, sweeping back from her head. The unmistakable mark of something other than human.

"You're…" 

Thorne's voice came out hoarse with shock.

 "You're the girl from the quarters."

She nodded.

"And you're an... elf."

The word felt strange in his mouth. He'd heard of elves, of course. In stories. Legends. But he'd never actually seen one. They were supposed to be rare. Reclusive. They didn't work in human mines.

She nodded again, watching him carefully. Like she was trying to gauge his reaction.

"Who are you?" 

Thorne asked. His voice was steadier now, but his mind was racing. Nothing made sense. 

"Why did you save me? How did you…"

She took a step closer. Her storm-gray eyes met his directly, unflinching.

"My name is Sablen Wren.”

She said quietly.

She paused. Took a breath. Then spoke again and her words turned Thorne's world on its axis.

"And I'm your protector…”