The Frozen Moon - By J.D. Swinn Page 0,38

though years had passed instead of weeks. It made her wonder how long this Relic hunt could go on, if it was just beyond the Angel’s ring, or if there would be more to come. Nameh knew that she couldn’t live like this forever, a war was brewing. She remembered something her father had always said when she was back home, “A true fight is never won.” he would say. Part of her hoped that this wasn’t true, that maybe the seven of them could have a sort of normalcy when the Relic was turned over to the Vine. But as she had said to the others only moments ago, this was why she had become a Guardian, become a Markbearer, to have something worth fighting for. If the struggle continued, she would fight until the end, whatever that was.

The discussions ended, they silently formed a tight circle in anticipation of Wyd’s spell, which he was preparing. She took one final look at the autumn scene around her, and breathed in her favorite scent. The smell brought her back to Central Park a year earlier when she and Mira had run through the scattered leaves in pure and unscathed joy. She couldn’t remember feeling that peaceful since, when things had been so simple, and everything they learned was still a game. Now, things were turning real and changing faster than she could cope with. She stared at the lone evergreen tree before her and admired its steadfastness with a thin sense of pity. Though all the foliage around it was transforming and yielding to change, it stood firm. In the end, she thought, the evergreen would live when all was barren, thrive when all life was gone, and stand tall at the others’ shortcomings. But did the trees ever grow lonely? Did they ever tire of being the only left alive; was it truly worth it to be the only remaining if there was none to share it with? Perhaps we are simply crafted for change, life simply created for death, she thought. Perhaps being the strong evergreen wasn’t worth the loneliness. Perhaps most of the trees changed their colors so willingly because it was natural and necessary for new growth. She quickly doused this feeling, crushed it beneath all that she held inside as she always did. Wyd’s muttering shook the senseless thoughts from her as the autumn colors swirled about her, maybe for the last time, she thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: THE BEGINNING

This time, Max was able to land on his feet as they spun into the hall. His ankles cracked beneath the force as his knees yielded expertly. He began drinking in the beauty of the sights immediately; his dreams had become realized in a single moment. Even before becoming a part of the Vine, he had heard stories of the legend of Alantra for years. He had been told it was the most perfect place a mortal may ever lay eyes on, and he could see now that these statements had not been exaggerations. Though the hall must have been thousands of years old, perhaps more, it showed not a single sign of wear or aging. The white of the walls was the purest he had ever seen, something too clean and perfect to be made by man. The gold lines tracing along the white glittered as though a light came from within them, not just reflecting off of the surface. It appeared as though the long room was lit with bright sunlight, though there were no windows or light sources in sight. The rich blues were more vivid in person than they had been through the ring’s image, deep and fathomless. One could get lost in wonder wandering the lengths of this hall, he thought, with its seemingly endless stretch.

The group walked for what felt like miles before they reached the great hall’s end. Each step was compelled by the prospect of new glories lying just ahead, and each step was rewarded with such. Tapestries and portraits lined nearly all parts of the walls now, depicting great battles and triumphs of times long forgotten. The fabled Mancer war of old stretched across a massive section of wall in an awe-inspiring display. The necromancers of the west and the aeromancers of the east had warred for long months, the westerners atop the backs of fierce dragons, and the easterners atop the swells of great tsunamis, with hurricanes at their backs. He could think of few struggles more worthy