A Savior's Worth (Book #3)

Prologue

Mylian 31, 1467

Breathing had become nothing but abrupt spurts of air. In and out of his mouth.

His lungs were going to burst. This he felt certain of as he pushed himself further.

He managed to run faster until he could no longer feel his feet touching the ground. The inside of his chest burned, mimicking the flames engulfing the village behind him.

He couldn't bear to look... but he had to.

A mere glance over his shoulder told him he was alone. He'd hoped coming back here would lead him to his group, but nobody was in sight. Not even Inferum cantivat.

So, he halted—suddenly and harshly, stumbling over his own steps. He had enough energy to prevent his fall, yet he wavered in his spot. The crushing of his lungs was evident now. He clutched his chest as he hunched over and desperately attempted to properly inhale.

"I've found you," Caldwell spoke from behind, causing him to swivel around.

"C-Caldwell," he uttered, wishing he could've sounded just as intimidating. He narrowed his eyes and curled his fingers in as if that would help his case. "Go... away."

Caldwell merely laughed.

"What, what do you, you want from me?" His words spewed out in pathetic puffs. He ignored that for the sake of keeping his expression stern.

"You already know I intend to have your soul." Caldwell titled his head and bared his teeth even more. "Why ask such pathetic questions?" He extended his right hand as a long sword phased into his grip. He twirled it as he slowly approached.

"It won't work, Caldwell. You're wasting your time!"

Caldwell lingered for a moment, his features forming a thoughtful gaze. Although, it didn't take long for his wicked smile to reappear. "Oh, how fun it is that you do not know who you truly are!" Then he replaced his grin with a cold and lifeless stare.

Ashton readied himself to turn on his heel when a ring of fire rapidly formed itself around Caldwell. Caldwell paused mid-step and snarled as he examined his flaming prison.

Ashton exhaled in relief, peering behind him, and he spotted the cause of the fire. Even with the sleeves and skirt of her gown torn and her light brown hair disheveled, Beatrice still managed to appear graceful. She walked up to him and once she was beside him, Ashton said, "You're late."

She winked. "Consider yourself fortunate I showed up at all." She faced Caldwell, adding, "I was enjoying myself back there. I am certain the Lord of the Outlands will be quite pleased with my little trick."

"If he can see," Ashton murmured.

Although Beatrice side-eyed him, she didn't say anything as she lifted her arms. The flames rose with her. They nearly reached Caldwell's height, and the man remained unfazed.

"Ash," Beatrice addressed. "I have your sword. Get it." She nodded behind her. Ashton identified the weapon sheathed to her back. He reached over and drew it from her.

Beatrice feigned a pout as she spoke to Caldwell. "It appears you have nowhere else to go. What will you do now?"

Caldwell snickered. "What shall I do?" He shrugged and casually glanced away. "I suppose I can always... fight fire with fire, Your Majesty." With a wave of his arms, Beatrice's flames were blown back at her.

Beatrice yelped. The flames narrowly missed her as she dismissed them.

Ashton gawked at Caldwell, then at Beatrice. "Are you alright?"