Page 58 of The Ruins of the Heartless Fae

Kolfinna turned to look over the vast expanse of golden sand. The wind blew her tangled hair over her face. “I’m sure we’ll find something useful.”

She truly hoped so.

15

They walkedand walked but came across nothing but sand and more sand. The horizon stretched with the same scenery. It was as if nothing else existed but that. And they found nothing useful at all. Nothing they could use as weapons, and nowhere they could potentially have a battle with the dreki.

Blár lay on the ground by a cluster of jagged boulders and stones. The harshness of the suns had faded into the night, and more surprising than the sandy environment—where the sand was like hot coals and the suns scorched their skin off—was that it was freezing now that the suns had set. Their breaths puffed in front of them and Kolfinna was grateful she hadn’t thrown her cloak aside. How had she not noticed the cold last night? Was she so exhausted that it didn’t register to her?

Kolfinna sat cross-legged on one of the smoother rocks and tipped her head back to gaze at the starry sky. Three moons hung in the black sky, casting soft, shimmery moonbeams across the sand.

“I’m thirsty and hungry.”

Kolfinna glanced down at Blár. All the running, the fighting, and arguing seemed to have worn him down. His lips were twisted into his signature scowl, but on the ground with his hair messily kissing the sand, he looked more boyish.

“I’m starving,” he repeated with a sigh. “Screw this place.”

Kolfinna licked her dry lips. “We just have to move forward and hopefully we’ll find something …”

“I’m gonna skin that bird and eat it,” he growled.

“Bird?” She raised her brows. “You mean the dreki?”

“Yeah, that bastard.”

“It looked more like a lizard than a bird.”

“Doesn’t change anything.” Blár pulled his cloak tighter around himself like a blanket. “Why is it so cold?”

“I thought you liked the cold.”

“No.” Blár rolled his eyes as if she had said something stupid. “I mean, I don’t dislike the cold, but just because my powers are ice doesn’t mean I love the cold. Or that I’m immune to it.” He closed his eyes, the moonlight glistening on his black hair. “Man, if only I could use my powers. I’d skewer that bird so quick.”

“We wouldn’t be in this state if that were the case.” She dragged a finger over the grooves and fissures of the rock she sat on. She reached for a thread of mana in the stones, something to help her manipulate it, but she felt nothing. The emptiness within her widened. She missed feeling the pull of life in the stones, in the surrounding nature—she had taken that feeling for granted. When she hid her magic, she had at least still been able to feel the life force of nature around her. Now she was just an abyss of nothing, her connection to everything severed. “Your ice powers … aren’t they weak in hot weather?”

“No.” He shrugged, though the movement was awkward since he was lying down. “My ice is stronger than typical ice. It doesn’t melt like regular ice. It’s fortified with my mana, after all. So, the weather doesn’t necessarily make it weaker … But if I’m being honest, I’m stronger in cold climates. It’s easier to make more ice. However, I wouldn’t say I’m weaker in hot weather. I guess … I don’t know. Even if I do get weaker, it’s such a minuscule amount that I don’t notice.”

“I … see.” It was unsettling how abnormal he was. Moments like this made her realize just how powerful and rare he was in the world. “I only ask because I heard that fire elemental users have a harder time in extremely cold climates, and that ice elemental users have a harder time in extremely hot climates.”

“Well, I don’t notice a difference.” He turned his head toward her. The moon bathed his face in silvery light. “And you? Does your magic suffer in extreme weather?”

She couldn’t help but scowl. “Why would I tell you?”

“You think I’ll use it against you?” Blár rolled his eyes and crossed his arms behind his head. “I don’t need to do that shit. And you know that too.”

He was right, he didn’tneedan advantage over her to beat her, but she didn’t like the way he said it. Regardless, she answered, “In … in winter, it’s harder to use my magic. A lot of plants and nature are already dead or hibernating, so I can’t draw on them that well. Or in places like this …” She waved at the hills and hills of sand. “I can’t really do much since there’s no nature. But I guess I could just use the rocks.”

“You wouldn’t do well in my hometown, then.” Blár kept his gaze on the moons. “Or maybe you would. I don’t know.”

“I read somewhere that you lived in a mountainous area.”

His sharp blue eyes shifted to her. “You’ve read about me?”

She was grateful for the night’s canopy that hid the heat from her cheeks. “Y-You were an enemy, so I had to research,” she quickly said. “I’m not, like, looking into you for fun. You should know that.”

There was a lot of literature about the three black ranks in the country, though most of it was gossip, irrelevant, or unverified. Most of it was about the missions they went on, their power levels, and their current positions in the government or military. People were curious about the powerful people in the nation. From what she read, none of the three black ranks indulged the crowds or the curious folks trying to milk information. All three had one thing in common: they kept to themselves. Blár was no exception. There was limited information on him.

The corner of his lip twitched. “I grew up far north. All that’s up there is ice, snow, and mountains.”

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