Page 45 of Of Shadow and Moon

“Nasarea, move!” I shout, my voice hoarse.

Nasarea grabs the flag, tearing it free from the nest. She turns to run, but the Velasha is already recovering, her remaining claws poised to strike. I step between them, my blade raised. The creature barrels toward me, her speed blurring her form.

Time slows. I can see the fury in her hollow eyes, and feel the oppressive weight of her presence. My body reacts before my mind does, my blade driving upward in a final, desperate strike. The steel pierces her chest, sinking deep. She freezes, her form shuddering violently. For a moment, her eyes meet mine, and I see something almost human in them. The deep and immense grief in her eyes. Then, with a guttural cry, she dissolves into a swirling mist, her essence sinking back into the river.

The forest is silent. My chest heaves as I lower my blade, the adrenaline leaving my limbs weak and trembling. Nasarea stands a few feet away, the flag clutched tightly in her hands. Her eyes are wide, her face pale as she stares at the spot where the Velasha had been.

“Holy…shit,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. There’s no cocky smirk now, no flippant remark. Just genuine shock.

I manage a weak smile, sheathing my blade. “You were quick. Quicker than I thought you would be.”

She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Thank you,” she says at last, the words clearly grudging but sincere.

I nod, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. For all her bravado, Nasarea just saw firsthand what I’m capable of—and for once, she doesn’t seem inclined to argue.

“Let’s go,” I say, my voice firm. “This trial isn’t over.”

Without another word, we disappear into the trees, leaving the rippling river behind us.

The Mezzecca Riverwinds before us, finally. Across the water, perched high on a twisted, gnarled tree, is the final flag, its crest unmistakable. The wind catches it briefly, making it ripple like the river below it. Victory is so close I can taste it.

“We just need to grab it,” Nasarea says, her voice steady but tight. She’s masking her exhaustion well, but I can see the strain in her shoulders, the lingering tension from our last encounter with the Velasha.

“Just,” I repeat dryly. “Like it’s that easy.”

The space between us and the flag is open, unnervingly so. My instincts scream that it’s a trap, but there’s no other way forward. I glance at Nasarea, and she gives me a shrug and then a determined nod. We’ve come too far to stop now.

As we step closer to the riverbank, a strange mist begins to rise, curling like tendrils from the water’s surface. It thickens fast, spilling outward and swallowing the ground around us. My vision narrows to only a few feet ahead, the haze wrapping around everything like a suffocating blanket. The air grows cold, so cold it feels like it’s seeping into my bones and making my chest burn, a heavy pressure building with each breath.

“Do you feel that?” Nasarea asks, her voice shaky now.

I nod, my words caught in my throat. This isn’t just mist.

Then, Nasarea screams.

It’s a sound I’ve never heard from her before—raw, guttural, like it’s being torn from the depths of her soul. I whirl around, but I can barely make out her form in the fog. She’s clutching her head, stumbling backward, her sword forgotten at her side.

“Nasarea!” I shout, rushing toward her, but the mist presses against me like a wall, and for a moment, I can’t move. My chest feels tighter as if the forest itself is trying to crush me. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, drowning out her screams.

I realize quickly that this is Forrizia mist and she will be unharmed. So, I force myself forward, gritting my teeth against the burning sensation spreading through my body. My skin feels too tight, my breath too shallow, but I push through. Somehow, the heat in my chest drives me onward, each step a battle against the oppressive weight of the mist.

“Selestina! Help me!” Nasarea’s voice cuts through the haze, shrill and desperate. I stumble toward her silhouette, but as I reach out, my hand passes through nothing. She’s moved, or the mist has shifted. It’s disorienting, like the world is warping around me, bending to some unseen force.

And then I see it. The flag. Its crest burns through the fog like a beacon, perched high above the chaos. My legs move on instinct, carrying me toward it even as Nasarea’s screams grow louder behind me.

I dive right into the river feet first. The current is strong so I crouch low as I trudge across.

The heat in my chest intensifies, like fire coursing throughmy veins. The weight pressing against me grows unbearable, yet I press on, my fingers outstretched toward the flag. The mist seems to pull at me, whispering in a voice I can’t understand, but I block it out, focusing solely on my goal.

I reach the other side of the river bank and climb the tree quickly.

When my hand finally grasps the fabric, the weight lifts just enough for me to catch my breath. The flag is smooth and cool against my skin, and for a moment, relief washes over me. But it’s short lived. Nasarea’s screams pull me back to reality.

I turn, flag in hand, and follow the sound of her voice, making my way back the way I came from. The mist resists, tugging at me like it doesn’t want to let me go, but I refuse to stop. My boots slide against the slick ground, my muscles scream in protest, but I keep moving. When I find her, she’s curled on the ground, her hands clawing at her face, her eyes wide and unseeing.

I seize the back of her leathers and haul her forward, the rough ground scraping beneath her as I grit my teeth and pull with all my strength. My arms burn, my legs ache, but I don’t stop until we’re clear, the mist finally thinning and retreating behind us.

“Nasarea!” I shout, dropping to my knees beside her. She doesn’t respond, her screams tearing through the night, wild and uncontrollable. I grab her shoulders, shaking her. “Nasarea! It’s over! Stop screaming!”

---