Broken Blades Don't Sing (Tales of Ashkar Book One) Read Free Page B

furrowed his brows.
    It's still not enough. I need to master this
power. I almost lost her…
    Serraemas glanced at Elena as she sprinted
toward him, tears streaming down her face.
    I can't lose her.
    "Oh, Serraemas", she said softly before nearly
smashing into him. Elena embraced him tightly as if she hadn't held
him in ages.
    "It's okay, Elena", assured Serraemas with
conviction, albeit hoarsely. "You know I would never let anyone
hurt you.”
    The two remained in each other's arms for
several moments without saying a word, with the only sound coming
from a cool breeze that rustled the Tarue flowers. Despite the fact
that their sweet aroma was amplified by the wind, Serraemas hardly
noticed the scent. Instead, he focused his gaze and attention to
the inferno that still raged in Lorine. By now, the once seemingly
impenetrable kingdom was razed to the ground, and plumes of smoke
rose upward into the darkness.
    High above, a collection of incandescent lights
in the sky caught Serraemas’s eye. Eight bright lights moved
downward, as if sent down from the heavens. At first he thought
they were just shooting stars, but the lights came together in a
circle before flying off in opposite directions and disappearing
over the horizon.
    “Wow, such beautiful shooting stars!” gasped
Elena, also noticing the strange phenomenon but thinking nothing of
it. It seemed that she had already dismissed the fact that she had
faced death just minutes prior.
    Both of them continued to gaze into the starry
sky. Serraemas brought her closer and squeezed just a bit tighter
as once more his mind shifted to the pain of losing his family.
This world was full of struggles. Yet he had endured, and now he
wasn't helpless. He wielded the power of the elements; the ability
to protect his hope.
    Serraemas glanced at Elena and smiled
warmly.
    As long as I have you, everything will be
okay.

Chapter
2

    335th Dawn of the 4999th Age of Rimas

    Another tedious day…
    Wu sat with arms and head sprawled over a table
filled with heaps of books, scrolls, and parchments. Being a Grand
Master Magus in the most prominent academy of elementalism in the
world entitled one to arbitrary and menial tasks—something he had
not been privy to when he first accepted the job.
    The School of Eight was founded during the
4982nd Age of Rimas by several renown elementalists, most notably
Wu and Graeme Warren, the latter holding the title of Grand
Arcanist. Together, they had formed the foundation of learning the
elemental arts in the vast kingdom of Arcadia, which was named
after the continent it rested upon.
    Wu had dozed off, his loud snores echoing
throughout the halls of the third floor of the Bureau of Elemental
Affairs, the northernmost building in the school grounds. Novices
walking by his office occasionally peeped in, but quickly scurried
off lest they tempt the wrath of such a revered elementalist.
    The sound of shouting abruptly ended his
nap.
    "Hmm?" said Wu aloud drowsily as he lifted his
head up and glanced toward the window. His wrinkled face had
several red marks from burying his head in the endless pile of
books—books that covered nearly every possible topic and conjecture
relating to elementalism. Slowly, Wu stood up, cupped his hands
behind his back, and strode to the window facing south.
    Peering out to where the ruckus was coming from,
he noticed a small boy being assaulted by a group of children that
nearly piled onto him in the Courtyard of Brilliance. A young
veri—tall and purple-skinned people that hail from western Ashkar,
far away from human lands—who he identified as Master Doriel Felen
was shouting unacknowledged commands and unsuccessfully attempting
to pull the bullies away with nothing but her own arms.
    Wu frowned and shook his head. “Children…" He
casually glanced at the small boy being assaulted, and his eyes
widened. Wu quickly wheeled around and rushed past his door as his
long, flowing robes fluttered behind him. His garment was