Chapter 239: Rising Storm
After the guild master had left, Dyson began to narrate our encounter with the Circle. Ever the charismatic speaker, he talked a lot with emphatic gestures and embellishments, turning our battle into an epic confrontation with evil itself.
"...and then Starlight raised her staff, and a wolf crawled out of the sky itself. To be honest, I don’t exactly know what happened next, because the next thing I remember, the golem was dead in its jaws."
"No, you’ve got it right," Rasce said, eyes boring into me. "The wolf was there, and then it wasn’t. We ran over to Dyson, but he was far too gone. I’m impressed he remembered everything up until that point, because his wounds were as bad as any I’ve seen. Anyway, Starlight knelt beside him and-" he hesitated, his voice growing soft with embarrassment, "-and she started crying, shaking like she were in pain. A moment later, that monstrous wolf did something, and she cast a fourth-circle spell."
Dyson stared at me, mouth open. "A fourth-circle spell? Surely you mean-"
"Fourth circle," Rasce replied. "Though if I hadn’t seen it I wouldn’t believe it. It took her barely a second to cast the entire thing. Her wolf is at least fourth-level as well, though it’s far stronger than any monster of that level I’ve seen."
The table was silent for a moment. My heart pounded as I bowed my head, hiding the tears trickling down my cheeks. Fable, my true magical abilities, and the mysteries of my past: everything I’d hidden from them was coming to light. Tana already knew, in part, but how would the rest react? I knew they cared for me, but the bonds we held were nothing compared to the responsibility they had toward each other, and I would only be a danger to that.
Sorrin sighed, his ears drooping as he looked at me. "Starlight, we’ve trusted you as long as we can, but right now, if we are to go further, it might be time to say something."
I stared at the ground, my tail twitching violently, holding back tears. For a moment, I could see Soltair again, looking me in the eye as though I were some toy he’d grown bored of and selling me to slavers. Memories rocked me: the cold steel of iron, the fire of the slave crest, and the agony of Lord Byron’s mansion.
"That’s enough," Tana said softly. She grabbed my hand, giving me a comforting squeeze, and stared down the rest of the party, her gaze coming to rest on Sorrin. "You want her to talk, not knowing she already has."