Page 51 of Emylia

And Gods help me, it felt good.

Toogood.

The moment my boots touched the ground, I tried to pull away. Tried—and failed. Our bodies brushed, barely, and it was still too much.

I looked up, searching his face, needing to know if this was one-sided madness. But the way his gaze locked onto mine—unwavering and raw—made it impossible to deny the truth.

He felt it too.

His voice came out rough, like it scraped against something inside him. “Remind me never to get on your bad side. I think most men would kneel at the sight of you.”

“Because I’m a badass?” I offered, masking the heat in my chest with sarcasm.

“That too,” he said, lips quirking.

I cleared my throat, desperate to regain footing. “From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you’d kneel for anyone.”

“Maybe you’ll be the first.” His words swirled around me, stealing my breath.

We stood there, caught in silence that pulsed like a heartbeat. When he finally let me go, relief and regret hit all at once. I needed distance. Because if he’d held on a second longer, I wasn’t sure I would’ve let go.

He smiled—slower this time, like he could see right through me. Then he took my hand.

“Come with me,” he dared.

Without arguing, I followed him, feeling like I was in a trance until I stood just a foot from the first line of trees in the forest.

Taking a step forward, I trailed my fingers over the scales of the tree’s thick skin. Something ethereal anchored me in place. Splintering and blistering grumbled beneath my touch—the tree breathed, the sound the only evidence of its silent slumber.

An ancient magik washed over me, steadying the beat of my heart as it recognized me—as if it were calling to me. If the rumors were true, the magik that resided within the Aelinthian Forrest was very old. Very powerful.

“You do know my people fear coming here, don’t you?” I whispered, reverent.

Maalikai shrugged beside me, placing his palm next to mine. He was so quiet I could almost believe he heard the trees breathing too.

“It’s the magik. It tends to scare people away.”

My heart ricocheted. “You believe in magik?”

Magik was real… theoretically. I could feel it in certain places. The Gods supposedly had it, but...

“Don’t you?” Maalikai asked.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I believed.

“I mean, yeah. I believe in the stories of the mages. And I believe they might still be out there somewhere. But it’s not like Elowyn the baker is putting magik in her bread, you know?”

Maalikai chuckled. “Elowyn’s bread is pretty damn good,” he said, but I barely heard him, already caught up in my own thoughts.

Magik was everywhere in the stories of Agertheria. It didn’t make sense that it wasn’t a constant in our lives.

I thought back to the tales my mother told me growing up—the little boy who tamed wolves with his voice, the stranger who conjured power from mist and moonlight, weaving it into something that defied age and time—a shapeshifter in the daylight.

There was even a story about Aelinthian Forrest. A little girl wandered too far in and supposedly met a God. Not knowing whether it was a benevolent being or Ezekiel in disguise, the girl had used magik to test him. Impressed, the God let her live—and even guided her to safety.

They were fun stories. But let’s be honest: laughable. If magik was real, why had it disappeared? And where had it gone?

“Why did you bring me here?”

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