NOVEL NEXT WORLD Chapter 12: Lothaire!
Chapter Twelve: Lothaire!
Lothaire knelt by Angelina, his sharp gaze focused on her swollen foot. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he examined the injury.
"You've made a habit of this," he muttered under his breath, his tone low and clipped.
Before she could open her mouth to protest, he added curtly, "We'll stay here tonight."
"Here? In the woods? Are you insane?!" Angelina's voice was filled with indignation and fear as she gestured around them.
"What? You're scared?" Lothaire's tone turned mocking, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Of course, I'm scared, dummy! Who knows what kind of things live here?" She threw a glance at the darkened forest.
Lothaire froze for a moment, taken aback. Did she just call him a dummy? Him? Lothaire, the most feared of his kind? If it had been anyone else, they'd already be burning in his Acheron for such insolence.
"We don't have a choice!" he snapped, standing up abruptly.
"Wait! Where are you going?" she called out, her voice laced with both frustration and panic.
"Well, dummy," he shot back with a roll of his eyes, "we have to eat."
"And you're leaving me here?" she shouted after him.
"Just sit still, don't move," he ordered, his tone final as he turned and walked away into the thick fog.
Angelina sighed, her heart hammering in her chest. "Don't move," he said. Easy for him when he wasn't the one left alone in the middle of a creepy forest. She tried calling out to him again, but the mist swallowed her voice, leaving her words hanging uselessly in the air.
Desperate to find some way to alleviate the pain, she focused on her powers, willing them to work. She whispered the incantations she'd learned, drawing on the energy within her. But nothing happened. Her powers remained stubbornly dormant, as they had for days.
Frustration bubbled to the surface. She tried to hop on one foot, determined not to stay idle. But the uneven ground betrayed her, and her stumble sent her crashing into a thicket.
Before she could even curse her luck, a low growl echoed from the shadows. Angelina froze, her breath catching in her throat. Emerging from the darkness was a massive beast, its glowing red eyes locking onto her trembling form. Its teeth glinted in the pale moonlight, sharp and menacing.
Angelina's instincts screamed at her to run, but her twisted ankle made any escape impossible. She stumbled backward, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.
"Lothaire!" she screamed, her voice cracking with terror as the beast lunged toward her.
---
In a dimly lit tavern nestled deep within the woods, the air buzzed with chatter and the clinking of mugs. Michael sat at a corner table, his hood drawn low over his face. His piercing eyes scanned the room, searching for any scraps of information about his missing sister.
He had been traveling for days, chasing rumors and whispers. Each lead seemed to lead him farther from the truth, but he refused to give up. This tavern was his last stop for the night.
He sipped from his mug, keeping to the shadows as he listened to the conversations around him. Most of it was drunken babble, but one voice caught his attention.
"I swear I saw it with my own eyes," an old man rasped, gesturing wildly to his companions. "A portal opened at the cliff near Black Hollow. A man stepped out, carrying a woman in a wedding gown!"
Michael stiffened, his grip tightening around his mug.
"Are you sure?" someone asked.
"As sure as I'm sitting here," the old man replied. "Never seen anything like it before. That man wasn't human, I'll tell you that much."
Michael's mind raced. A man with a portal and a woman in a wedding gown—it had to be Lothaire and Angelina. His heart pounded with urgency. He needed more information.
Before he could approach the group, a commotion erupted near the bar.
A group of rough-looking men surrounded a young girl cloaked in tattered fabric. She was trying to pull away, but they blocked her path, sneering and leering at her.
"Come on, lass," one of the thugs drawled, grabbing her arm. "No need to be shy. Stay and have a drink with us."
"Let me go!" the girl protested, her voice trembling.
Michael rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing. He approached the group silently, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
"That's enough," he said, his voice cold and commanding.
The men turned to face him, their expressions hardening.
"Mind your business, stranger," one of them growled.
Michael didn't respond. His gaze flicked to the girl, and he could see the fear in her eyes. Without a word, he stepped forward and grabbed the thug by the wrist, twisting it until the man cried out in pain.
The others hesitated, glancing at each other. Michael's aura was enough to give them pause.
"Get out of here," he said evenly.
The thugs muttered curses under their breath but retreated, unwilling to test their luck.
Once they were gone, Michael turned to the girl. "Are you alright?"
The girl pushed back her hood, revealing a familiar face. Michael's eyes widened in shock.
"Seraphina?" he said incredulously.
She met his gaze, her expression defiant but slightly sheepish.
"What are you doing here, Sera?" Michael asked, his voice low and tense. "I clearly told you not to leave Arcadia."