Immortal Reign

by Morgan Rhodes

  They’d breached a gray, rocky hill, and on the other side, where Lucia now gestured, lay a sight that made Jonas’s breath catch.

  A thick shard of purple crystal as tall as three men jutted up from a small patch of greenery in the distance. Beyond that small circle of life and beauty lay only black, scorched ground.

  “This is where I fought Kyan,” Lucia said grimly as she climbed the steep hill leading to the monolith. “He wasn’t in mortal form then. He looked like he did in the dream that you witnessed.”

  A gigantic monster made of fire.

  “You were so brave in that dream,” he said, remembering the cloaked girl who stood in front of the fire god and swore she would stop him.

  “I can’t honestly say I was that brave in real life. But this”—she slid her hand over the amethyst ring she always wore—“protected me like it would have protected Eva when she wore it. And Kyan—he exploded. I thought surely it had killed him, but it only destroyed the body he’d been using as a vessel. I blacked out, and when I came to, I was in the Sanctuary.”

  Jonas couldn’t fathom how frightening that must have been, to be faced with a true monster with no one to turn to, no one to help. He had misjudged this girl for far too long. She’d been through so much, it was a miracle she’d made it out alive and sane.

  He looked up at the monolith as they drew closer to it. “So this is a gateway to another world, like the stone wheels.”

  “Yes,” she said. “This is where that magic originated from—the ability to walk between worlds. I just hope, now that we’re finally here, that it works with my magic being so unreliable.”

  “I have faith in you,” Jonas said. “And your magic.”

  Lucia turned to him with red-rimmed eyes, as if expecting him to follow up that statement with something harsher, something more judgmental.

  Instead, he gave her a small smile. He’d meant what he’d said.

  Despite any dark intent Timotheus ascribed to Lucia, Jonas’s faith in her had only grown since the immortal had given him the golden dagger.

  Jonas thought back to the vision Timotheus had told him about: Lucia with the dagger in her heart and Jonas standing over her.

  No, Jonas thought. It’s impossible.

  Either he’d been wrong or he’d been lying. Timotheus said himself that he glimpsed many possible futures. That had been only one of them.

  Jonas needed answers from the immortal. And he would demand to be told the truth about everything.

  Lucia had scrambled farther ahead, and Jonas took several long strides to catch up with her.

  “All right,” she said, turning to face him. “Now we will learn whether this journey has just been an incredible waste of time.”

  The closer he stood to the monolith, the better Jonas began to feel. The chill had completely dissipated, and a tingling warmth flowed through his body.

  “Do you feel that?” he asked, meeting Lucia’s gaze.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Look,” he said, pointing to her hand. “Your ring . . . it’s glowing.”

  Lucia raised her hand, her eyes wide as she nodded. “I’m going to hope that’s a good sign.”

  Then the monolith began to glow as well, emitting a violet haze all around them.

  “I think it recognizes me,” she whispered.

  Jonas followed Lucia’s lead and placed his palm against the cool crystal. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t explode.”

  Lucia laughed nervously. “Please, don’t even think that.”

  The brightness of the monolith quickly became so intense that Jonas had to squeeze his eyes shut to protect them from the light.

  When he opened them only moments later, they were not in the same place as before. Not at all.

  He turned in a circle to take in the new surroundings. They were now in a grassy field—one that reminded him of the backdrop of his last dream with Timotheus.

  “Did it work?” he asked, then raised a brow at the sorceress standing next to him. “Or are we dead?”

  “You sound so calm, considering we just traveled to another world,” she said. Lucia looked him up and down, studying him from every angle. “I wasn’t sure if you would be able to come here with me. The magic you have inside you must be stronger than I thought. I’m sure what happened . . . it wouldn’t have worked for just anyone.”

  Jonas would have replied, but he was too busy staring at the shining city in the distance.

  “It did work,” he said, stunned. “This is the Sanctuary.”

  “It is.”

  “I’m going to need a moment,” he said. Jonas bent down, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. His mind was racing—one moment they’d been in the Forbidden Mountains in front of a big shiny rock.

  Now they were . . . here. In the Sanctuary.

  He always said he believed only in what he could see with his own eyes. And he could see this. All of it in one sweeping glance.

  This was real.

  “No time to rest.” Lucia began walking away from him, in the direction of the city. “We need to find Timotheus.”

  At first glance, everything seemed normal enough—blue sky, green grass, colorful flowers—and in the distance, a city made of tall golden buildings loomed.

  But it also wasn’t normal at all, Jonas thought as they walked past two massive stone wheels that lay in the stretch of green land between the meadow and the crystal city itself.

  “What are they?” he asked.

  “Those are the gateways immortals use to enter our world,” Lucia explained. “In their hawk form.”

  Jonas realized then that he hadn’t seen any hawks lately. At least, not the kind that were as large and golden as the ones he knew to be spying immortals.

  Perhaps he just hadn’t been paying close enough attention.

  After the stone gateways, Jonas spotted other differences between the Sanctuary and the mortal world. The colors here were more vivid and jewel-like. The grass was a bright emerald green, and the red flowers that dotted the field resembled sparkling rubies.

  The sky was bright blue—the true color of a perfectly cloudless summer day.

  But there was no sun here, only an undetermined source of light.

  “Where’s the sun?” he asked.

  Lucia looked up at the sky, shielding her eyes from the brightness. “They don’t seem to have one. But it’s always day here.”

  Jonas shook his head. “How is that possible?”

  “Let’s focus on getting to the city, shall we? Then you can ask Timotheus any question you want. Hopefully you’ll have better luck getting answers than I ever have.”

  The city had tall protective walls, much like the City of Gold, but its gates were open and unguarded.

  Lucia hesitated only a moment before she walked through them and into the city itself.

  Jonas couldn’t keep up with all the sights before him. The City of Gold and Hawk’s Brow were the two wealthiest cities in Auranos. Gold was inlaid into the stonework of the sparkling roads, and both cities were immaculately clean. Both cities, however, paled in comparison to the beauty and wonder of this one. It seemed to be entirely created out of crystal and silver and transparent, delicate glass. Shining, colorful mosaics coated the maze of roads that led them deeper into this waking dream.

  The buildings were taller than anything Jonas had ever seen before, even taller than either the Auranian or Limerian palaces, with spires that reached high into the sky. Here, the individual structures were narrow, with angular, jagged edges that reminded him of the monolith itself. They stretched up twice as tall as a sentry’s tower, but he’d never seen a tower made from anything but stone and brick.

  “Incredible,” Jonas muttered. “But where is everyone?”

  Lucia didn’t seem to be as awed by t
he sights as he was; she was far too busy walking deeper into the city. “There are not many immortals here, considering the size of this city,” she said. “Perhaps two hundred or so. It makes this place seem completely empty.”

  “Yes, it certainly does,” he agreed.

  “Strange, though,” she said with a frown. “I would have thought we’d have seen someone by now.”

  He heard the uneasiness in her tone, and it worried him.

  Jonas followed Lucia to a clearing that looked to be two hundred paces in diameter. In the center of this space stood a tower three times as tall as any other in the city, one that stretched high into the sky like a shining beacon of light.

  “This tower has been home to the elders,” Lucia told him. “It’s like their palace. When I was here, all the other immortals gathered in this square to hear an announcement from Timotheus.”

  Jonas scanned the vacant area, frowning.

  “Something seems wrong, princess,” he said. “Do you feel it?”

  He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it. It was like the same chill in the air he’d felt in the Forbidden Mountains, just before they’d reach the crystal monolith. For all its exquisite, otherworldly beauty, this city felt like . . .

  Death, he thought.

  Lucia nodded. “I feel it too. Where is everyone? This isn’t right.”

  “Wouldn’t they be concerned that two people just strolled through the city gates unexpectedly?” he asked.

  “They didn’t notice me the last time, not right away. But then I met Mia, the girl in the tavern.”

  “The one who couldn’t remember anything.”

  Lucia nodded gravely.

  Then, out of the corner of his eye, Jonas saw something flicker on the wall of one of the towers nearby. Light and dark, light and dark, like the rapid blinking of an eye.

  It was changing color from a shining silver to . . .

  The image of an old man.

  Lucia gasped. “Timotheus?”

  Jonas stared up at what indeed looked like a very old Timotheus, with white hair and a wrinkled face.

  “Yes, it’s me,” the image said. “Your eyes do not deceive you.”

  Jonas realized then that this wasn’t just an image—it was Timotheus, somehow appearing on the side of this tower to look down upon them standing in the middle of the massive, empty square.

  “What happened?” Lucia asked, her eyes wide. “Why do you look like this?”

  “Because I’m dying,” Timotheus replied, his voice was small and distant.

  “What do you mean you’re dying?” Jonas demanded. “You’re immortal. You can’t die!”

  “Immortals most certainly can die,” he replied. “It just takes us a lot longer than mortals.”

  “Timotheus . . .” Lucia stepped forward, her shoulders tense. “It’s urgent that I speak with you.”

  Timotheus shook his head. “You shouldn’t be here. I saw in a vision that you would both come, but I hoped very much you would change your minds. Alas, you didn’t. But now you need to leave immediately.”

  Lucia’s hands fisted at her sides. “I can’t leave! Kyan’s taken my daughter and my magic . . . it’s weak right now. I don’t know if I can imprison him and the others.” Her voice was shaking. “I need to save my daughter, and I don’t know how. I came here to ask for your help.”

  “I can be no help to you,” he replied grimly. “Not anymore.”

  “But you have to be,” Jonas said, stepping forward. “We need answers. We came all this way. I don’t even know how it’s possible I’m here.”

  “You don’t?” Timotheus chuckled. “Young man, you have so much magic within you right now I’m surprised it’s not bursting through your very skin.”

  He could sense that? Jonas didn’t feel any different than ever before. “How do you know that?”

  “I know that because I’ve placed a great deal of that magic within you myself.”

  Jonas gaped up at him. “You what?”

  “Some mortals over the centuries have proven themselves to be excellent carriers of magic. You are one of them.”

  Lucia looked back and forth between the two of them. “What do you mean, he’s a carrier of magic?”

  “Just like a rich mortal uses a bank to store his gold—and the same bank to borrow from,” Timotheus explained. “This is Jonas’s purpose and part of his destiny. I thought he would prove very useful, and he has.”

  “Wait,” Jonas said. “What are you saying? You put most of this magic inside me? How did you do that?”

  Timotheus gazed down at him patiently. “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you. And there’s no time to explain.”

  “Make time,” he growled. “I already know the magic inside me is from Phaedra, when she died after saving my life, and Olivia, from the magic she used to heal me . . .”

  “Yes. And that is how I knew you were a vessel. I gave you more magic in the last dream of yours I entered—as much as I could. You already know that whatever is shared in your unconscious mind can become reality.”

  The golden blade. So Timotheus transferred magic into Jonas just as he’d given him the blade, which had traveled from one world to another.

  He stared up at the massive form of Timotheus on the side of the tower in awe. The immortal looked like a man, walked and talked like a man.

  But he was no man. He was a god.

  All the immortals were gods.

  For someone who had never believed in anyone or anything . . . this was a stunning realization.

  “Why did you place this magic inside me?” Jonas began, more tentatively now. “Was it because you knew you’d become weak like this?”

  “Partially,” Timotheus allowed.

  “And now what? You take it back, recharge yourself, and you’re good as new?”

  Timotheus gazed down at them for a moment, his lips pursed in thought. “No.”

  “No?” Lucia said, stunned. “What do you mean no? I need you, Timotheus. There’s no one else who can help me. Kyan has kidnapped my daughter, and I am afraid I can’t save her!”

  “I’ve seen your future, Lucia Damora,” Timotheus said then, evenly. “I’ve seen you standing next to the fire Kindred with the crystal orbs before you, your lips moving as you complete the ritual that will empower him and the other three like they’ve never been empowered before. And you do so of your own free will, just as you stood on the side of the cliff that night—that fateful night—ready to help him destroy the world. You are aligned with Kyan, and any excuses having to do with Lyssa are only that—excuses.”

  Lucia’s face was red, her eyes full of fury. “How dare you say that to me? I am not aligned with Kyan. I hate him!”

  Timotheus shrugged his shoulders. “We don’t change. We are who we are throughout our lives. We can try other paths, other roads, but it never works. I am no different. I was created to be a guardian to this place”—he waved his wrinkled hand toward the land beyond the city gates—“and to the mortal world. I tried . . . I did. And I’m still trying at this very moment, but I am failing, as all the others of my kind have failed. It is over, Lucia. The fight is over, and we have lost. We were never meant to win.”

  Jonas had listened silently to what the immortal said and to Lucia’s reaction, and now he joined her in her outrage. “Is that it? You’re giving up, just like that?”

  “You don’t know how long and how hard I’ve fought to reach this point,” Timotheus said wearily. “I thought there was a chance, and I did what I could to help. But in the end, none of this matters. What will be will be, and we must accept it.”

  Jonas’s fury began to boil over. He moved closer to the tower as if he could reach into the image and pull Timotheus out. “That’s so typical of you, speaking in riddles, even now. Lucia needs your damn help to fix this bloody mess,
and you’re up there on your . . . whatever magic that is that you’re on right now, looking down your nose at us. Detached from it all, safe and sound in your tall tower while we’re out here fighting, bleeding, and dying.”

  “Fighting, bleeding, dying . . .” Timotheus shook his head. “It is the way of mortals. Past, present, and future. What little future is left, anyway. Everything ends. Nothing is truly immortal.”

  “Timotheus . . .” Lucia’s tone had calmed. She clasped her hands before her as she gazed up at the image of him on the side of the tower. “Where are the others to help you?”

  “The others are gone,” he replied flatly.

  “I . . . I saw Mia. I saw her in a Paelsian village not far from the monolith.” She shook her head. “She couldn’t remember anything—not being an immortal, not the Sanctuary, not meeting me before.”

  “You did that to her,” Jonas said, filling in the blanks for himself. “You hurt her . . . you stole her memories. And the others as well.”

  “Jumping to conclusions, like always,” Timotheus replied. “Hasty in your decisions, rash and bold and, so very often, wrong.”

  “Then what actually happened?” Lucia asked.

  Jonas didn’t want to listen to any more lies. It had been a waste of time to come here. He was about to say so when Timotheus finally replied.

  “I called in a favor from an old friend,” he said. “One with the means and the magic to erase memories. There were so few of us left, and no one but me knew the truth of what this place has become. They only thought it to be a beautiful prison, one they could leave in hawk form to gaze upon the lives of mortals. Over the centuries, some chose to stay in your world as exiles, their magic fading over the remainder of their limited lives. Exiles, as a whole, I’ve found, are happy with their decision to leave. To live a mortal life that is imperfect and short and beautifully flawed.”

  “So you gave them that chance,” Lucia said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “All the others that were left. You exiled them and had their memories erased so they could live a mortal life without ties to the Sanctuary.”

  Timotheus nodded.

  Jonas wanted to hate him. He wanted to pull the golden dagger that Timotheus had somehow given to him that night through his dream and throw it at the tower right here and right now.