liz jordan

As Ziradith cackled about her plans, Noah walked the silent evening streets back towards Valia’s home. Shannon had insisted on transporting him to the palace on her back, but he abstained, telling her that he wanted to do some night fishing and she might scare the fish away. His first catch tugged hard on the line when an attack came, a ring of glowing wind passing through his clone and striking the ground. Noah, walking several feet away in his invisible state, turned and looked up at a nearby building, with his clone mimicking his actions.

“Your loss to Bella does not undo everything you, Sophia, and Cyrilo have accomplished. The literature program you’ve established is a blessing for this world, and you and Sophia managed to take down a gold-ranked knight who was standing in the way of public education. That is no small feat. You’re too young to be focusing on your regrets, on what you couldn’t do. The story of the Bow Mistress is only just beginning. When the war against the Profane is over, they’ll sing songs and legends about you, about how you fought and saved this world. And your clash with Bella? That’ll be a good story for you to tell around the campfire.”

“I need to stay in shape,” she replied, not turning around and continuing to punch and kick her swinging target. “Most of the customers know not to cause trouble now, and those that do, well, they do it for the attention.”