The Storm Tower | Vol.4, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

13.

Nova Scotia was cold.

Sebastian hadn't expected it to be that cold. He blamed the weather charms at the Eldenarian Palace; he rarely felt anything besides the warm sun and cool, soothing breezes because of them. He had almost forgotten they were in the middle of winter.

Sighing, he shouldered his backpack of supplies.

So much had changed so quickly. Just a few months ago he was getting ready to be inducted into his father's sacred guild of knights in the Order. They had just had his ceremony for him. Before he was officially made a member, he had one final mission to complete:

Help exterminate the rest of House Lumai and retrieve the Illumio from Makaela and her housemates.

And he almost went through with it. Memories of standing in front of the portal gate in Castle Braexus with his Shade robes and silver eagle mask replayed in his mind. He was inches away from committing the same atrocities his family had been committing for over a decade. Inches away from ending the lives of innocents over a stupid ring.

A voice told him not to. He didn't know what it was then, and he didn't know what it was now. But he was grateful for it.

So, instead of joining his housemates, he went against them instead.

And now he was in Nova Scotia with a halfling and a werewolf to beg Arkangels for help.

It wasn't the ideal situation.

"This sucks," he grumbled, tightening his jacket tighter around himself as he trudged through the frigid forest. "I should've brought a bigger jacket."

The chill rattling through him made his ears feel like ice chips pressing against his head. Looking around, he saw nothing pine trees, massive boulders, and a narrow stream gurgling with clear water off to his right. Birds flew overhead in the white sky, cawing obnoxiously as they migrated south for the winter.

Lucky them.

They were truly free, able to go wherever their wings could take them. He envied them, for he was stuck on earth that was getting closer and closer to its final days—unless he and the rest of the council did something about it.

There was nothing he wouldn't give to be on a beach somewhere in the tropics soaking up some sun. Glancing down at his pale hands, he realized he definitely needed it.

If they made it out of the war with the Order in one piece, that's exactly what he would do.

"Being saviors of the world isn't all it's cracked up to be," he said while kicking a rock across the moss-covered ground.

Ahead of him, Dorian snorted.

Imogen simply rolled her eyes. "No one said it'd be glamorous, Seb." She smirked at him. "Don't tell me you're trying to give up?"

"Oh, please." He scoffed. "I'm not giving up."

"Good. Because that was never an option for you."

"Yeah, yeah."

He watched as she led them through the woods. Her hand was fixed firmly on the hilt of her weapon—a dragon iron dagger she received back in Hodvekt. It had been a while since he saw the blade in her hands. It suited her.

"Where even are we?" he asked.

Imogen looked up to the sky for a moment. "Point Pleasant Park."

Dorian tilted his head at her. "We're in Halifax?"

She nodded, her eyebrow quirked upward. "You've been to Nova Scotia?"

"Sort of," he answered. "I've been through here with the Redfangs once. Don't remember much, but I do remember being told to stay away from Point Pleasant Park."