by Ryan Muree
“I don’t understand.”
“Your world is just one,” Shenna explained. “There are many in existence, all connected, and to keep them connected to one another it takes several people to save it. Think of it like your ether and all its different forms, except there’s just too much for one body to control.”
“So, I’m not strong enough?” Emeryss’s heart burned to hear those words in front of her mother.
“She is plenty strong,” her mother said just above a whisper. “She’s plenty strong enough to do it.”
“Strong is not the right word,” Shenna said. “You, Emeryss of Neeria, Caster of ether, are strong, but the world knows when it needs saving, and when it does, it’ll bring several people together, here, to do it. That’s just how it works.”
“Then why can’t you do it? Why can’t you help?” Emeryss asked, her tone increasing in severity.
“Because I’m not enough either.”
“B-b-but you’re the Goddess. You created everything—”
“No, I didn’t.” Shenna walked ahead of her, and the clouds naturally parted. “I was one of five. They created the rocks and the trees and the rivers and the oceans. They created the energy and the power. They gave themselves to the world.”
“I am willing to, too. I would sacrifice myself to save everyone—”
“It’s not necessary.”
“But it is—”
“The world is not ending over this, Emeryss, or the ether would have called more of you here together.” Shenna’s voice was calm, steady. She wasn’t angry or sad. She was… indifferent.
“But my world is ending!” she shouted back, the tears spilling over. “My friends, my family, they’ll all get destroyed. My country is killing itself, killing others—”
Shenna stood before her and put her hands on her shoulders.
“You don’t care that we’ll all die because it’s not the end… Because you take the spirits to Eien to live again, so you don’t care what happens.” Emeryss stumbled back.
“That’s not true,” Shenna said. “I care deeply for all of you, but yes, you know it’s not the end—”
“So, you can’t even look at this from our perspective. My friends, the others you think should have come to help, they are helping. They’ve been fighting and learning and trying to overthrow the power controlling us and destroying our lives.”
Shenna reached out beside them and pinched the empty space like she was turning the page in a book.
Light shimmered on the air into shapes and forms. Clove stood there in some dark place with Mack searching for something.
“You’re correct. Your friends and loved ones are fighting for all of you.”
Shenna turned the page on the air again, and Adalai glittered to life there. She was leading a meeting, planning something.
She turned another page, and Grier was there but on an airship with another Keeper and a new pilot she didn’t recognize. He was giving orders and pointing at a map. He looked concerned, hurt, in pain.
She held back reaching for him.
“Emeryss.” Shenna put her hand on her shoulder again. “If they’re out there fighting, then there’s still hope. The world isn’t ending right now.”
The island was spinning, or maybe it was just in her head. She tried to regain her composure, but she couldn’t. Everything was so twisted, so convoluted. Her heart squeezed with her lungs, choking and drowning her at the same time.
“They could die,” she eked out. “They could all die. I could lose every one of them. The world may not end, but they could, and then I’ve lost them forever.”
Shenna straightened. “You know that’s not true.”
Emeryss shook her head. “I don’t, do I? Is this all hol-shit and fairytales? Because the stories say that’s not how it is, but we don’t know. Not really. I changed my destiny. Do I even have a destiny?”
“No.”
Stabbed. Emeryss felt stabbed in the chest. “How could I not have a destiny? What is the purpose then?”
“To continue. To live on. To learn. You don’t have some final destiny in life, no one does, and that’s because it never ends. Anyone can be a savior. Anyone can be a tyrant. And anyone can have a change of heart—good or bad. No one person is destined for anything specific.”
Emeryss stammered and stuttered, sobs breaking through. “But that’s not good enough! That can’t be it.” The breath in Emeryss’s lungs rushed out of her. The packed dirt beneath her feet cracked. She was both lightheaded and sleepy at the same time. “Is any of this real?”
Shenna had put an arm around her to keep her upright.
“Eien?” Emeryss managed. “What about the after-life and the stories—”
“That’s true. But it’s not just Eien that I watch over. I’m a sentinel for all the worlds.”
A sentinel? The words swimming in her head.
Shenna gestured behind Emeryss and her mother. She was showing them the rest of the ocean and their little boat. “Your world is one world. One plane. You know others like the ethereal. It’s a plane of existence. Some you can reach with your mind, some you can reach with your will.”
Shenna then gestured ahead of them across the rest of the clouded island where four archways stood and waited. One looked like an oversized plant, another like fiery rocks, another like ice. There were shimmers at their edges, but it was too far to see what lay beyond.
“They’re gates. Like in the stories,” Emeryss said.
Shenna nodded. “Eien is another one. They’re all connected. All just as important as the other. Full worlds with their own problems and their own heroes. All very real.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Emeryss asked. “What does that have to do with all of us and what’s going on in our…”—She struggled to phrase it—“in our world?”
“It’s why one single person or two or three can’t stop the end of the world. It’s too much. It’s too big. Five worlds are a lot to save.”
“And you watch over them.”
“All of them.” Shenna turned to face her again, and the clouds swept back in behind her to conceal the archways. “Emeryss, you don’t need my help.”
They could do it without her? Was she saying it wasn’t that bad? That it could be worse? Of course, it could always be worse, but…
“We’re strong enough to do it on our own.”
Shenna nodded. “Yes.”
“And if we truly needed your help, then ether would have found a way to bring people here to save all of those worlds, too?”
Shenna nodded again.
“I can fix it?” she asked. “I can stop them from destroying Neeria and the rest of the country?”
“All of you can.”
Emeryss swallowed and found her footing. “How?”
Shenna smiled.
Chapter 24
Lower Aurelis — Revel
Clove woke up with the afternoon sun in her eyes.
Mack had come back and opened the shades on the window for her. He’d done it every morning since she mentioned how much she enjoyed the warmth of it here in Revel.
Otherwise, he’d been quiet enough to give her space, to let her sleep off her anger and make a decision.
And what had she decided?
That Mack was right. About a lot of it.
But that didn’t mean she had to choose him or Jahree. She didn’t have to choose anyone now, or later, or ever.
It just meant that she had to let Jahree go, too, or at least tell him that she didn’t have to choose.
And she also didn’t have to discuss it with Mack. He might be family, they might have been through a lot, but because of his feelings for her, it was probably best they kept that part of her life separate.
She stretched her stiff neck and lower back, slid off the chair, and found a glass of water in the bathroom. No hose coming from a hole in the wall there. No chipped paint or rusted metal door.
She inspected her swollen e
yes in the clean, uncracked mirror and fixed her falling ponytail. When she came out, Mack was at the Messenger.
“Any news?” She cleared the croak in her words.
He spun. “The tournament is about to start.”
Even if she didn’t choose Jahree, she still worried about him, and the other Zephyrs. Well, everyone except Adalai.
“Do you think Emeryss will compete, too?” he asked.
“I think she has to stay hidden for a while.” She took a shaky breath. “Want to go look for Cayn? Maybe grab something to eat from that street vendor we like?”
He grinned. “Sure.”
They checked their sleeves to make sure their bare wrists were hidden and started down the street. But Mack had something written on his.
“What’s that?” she pointed.
He shrugged it off. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” She grabbed his arm and pulled up his sleeve.
There was writing there in black ink in the shape of mutilated sigils.
He pulled it back. “It’s just part of the disguise.”
“The disguise?” She eyed him carefully. “Or pretending?”
He shot a glare at her.
She bit back a smile. “You want to be a Caster, don’t you?” she whispered.
“No.”
Liar.
They passed a carriage and crossed a street toward the hol-stick vendor.
“You sure?” she pried.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, right? Being able to cast whatever you wanted and do things like that without lifting a finger.”
She tried not to laugh. “Like what? What would you do?”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Like weapons and stuff.”
“You’d be Grier? You’d be a Keeper?”
“Fuck no. All those rules and shit. No.”
“You know, I could Scribe on you like I did him.”
“And maybe kill me? No, thanks.”
She giggled.
“What would you be?” he asked as they stepped in line for food. “If you could.”
“Well, technically, I can cast someday, just like Emeryss.” But she hadn’t really considered it before. She’d never thought she’d ever have the option until meeting Emeryss. “Umm… maybe something that dealt with engines and parts. Maybe like Mykel was so I could repair anything.”
He nodded, ordered two fried hol-sticks and some pickled fruit from the small man at his cart, and paid him with tokens Jahree had given them earlier.
They walked on together, chewing on their snack and sharing bites of the soured fruit.
“Is it just me,” Mack said, “or is everything in Revel just… nicer?”
She sighed. She’d already thought that. The quality of everything was better, and it didn’t make sense considering a lot of their achievements had been made on the backs of Ingini.
She wiped the side of her mouth where grease had fallen. “It sort of makes it worse that there’s all this mess underneath it all. Like at least Ingini’s flaws are right there on the surface.”
Mack shrugged. “Maybe. But even the people are nicer. Like complete strangers.”
“Ingini are nice, too.”
“Eh…” He took another bite of his hol-stick. “For crying out loud, the grease is even better tasting here.”
“It’s infuriating isn’t it?” She swallowed the bit of fruit she’d been gnawing on.
A small group of children passed on the sidewalk in front of them as their instructor pointed to buildings and landmarks. Several parents followed closely behind them.
A school trip? Ingini had those, too. Granted they were mainly just to Ethrecity’s business districts, but it seemed the concept was universal.
Mack nodded in their direction. “Want to follow and see where it takes us?”
When they were younger, they used to follow emergency services to crash scenes or fires to see where it took them. When she got her pilot’s license, she’d practiced flying with Mack but without navigation turned on to see where it took them.
She smiled, and they fell in line with the parents behind the group.
The teacher talked through the history of the streets, the actions that led to certain mishaps and current tensions, and how it shaped Aurelis’s architecture and layout. Building sturdier structures with ether-stone meant better defenses, it meant withstanding the tests of time. Aurelis—no, Revel—was meant to last an eternity.
It was hard to imagine both countries were all one at some point.
“Did I tell you that I played a drinking game with the Zephyrs?” she whispered to Mack.
“After they caught you, right?”
She nodded. “They had different facts.”
“What do you mean?” He tossed his finished stick in the trash, waited for her to take the last bite of her own, and tossed hers, too.
The teacher directed the group down a side street they hadn’t been to yet, and they kept pace.
“We have different, conflicting histories.” She wiped her hands on her pants. “They blame us entirely for the separation. They’ve been told it was purely because we wanted to assassinate all leaders and the king.”
“But that’s true.”
“Yes, but it was because the king was kind of like the general guy now—wanting to control ether, wanting to limit education on it. They wanted to create an unbalanced, unfair system from the beginning. Our people claimed there was more to ether than grimoires, and Revel rejected it.”
Mack offered her the last pickled fruit piece and then tossed its empty container into the nearest receptacle. “We’ve kind of gone the same way, though. The wealthy get everything we don’t in Dimmur.”
“But we didn’t start that way. We wanted to be helpful and inclusive.”
“Does it matter if it’s the same result?”
The teacher opened two wide doors to a stairway that led to the underbelly of the city. “We’re going to finish our tour with the aqueduct system and some Keeper history, and then we’ll be ready to get back to class.”
The group of kids groaned.
Mack was right about reaching the same result.
“But,” she continued, “we only had to do that because we were cut off from Stadhold and training. We had no resources. We were starving and dying. Ether-fuel saved us.”
He nodded, but his point still stood without him having to say it—Did it matter?
If they’d both fallen into the same issues, whether they intended it or not, did it matter how they got to this point?
No. It only mattered that they find their way back somehow.
“We can’t ignore this war, can we?” she whispered.
“It’s looking more and more like we can’t.”
“If we do nothing, we’re just as bad. We’re letting it continue,” she said.
They stepped down into a tunnel system the same width and height of the streets above. A quiet river ran alongside the wide walkways. Ether-lamps were lit every few feet, and some official-looking workers with badges and fancy suits moved around the tunnels.
“Adalai was right,” she said.
Mack looked at her.
“I hate her methods, but she was right to try something. Doing nothing is worse than trying and failing.” She crossed her arms. “Trying means there’s hope that eventually all this bad shit will end.”
He didn’t nod or immediately deny it. He probably wouldn’t agree with her, not right then, but he had to feel it, too. They all had to. She couldn’t just find Cayn, run off back to Ingini, and do nothing.
“These tunnels were constructed by the first king.” The instructor pointed to some reliefs on the stone. “The Casters who built it made sure to include some pictures of their daily lives, which was greatly improved by the addition of the aqueduct. It was said at the time that the Goddess of Ingenuity was the inspiration for it.”
The children took a few notes and eyed the faded, chipped paintings.
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They turned a corner into a larger space with loud rushing water.
“It was said,” the teacher shouted, “that the very first Keepers were initiated here in these tunnels, and special Casters adept at finding new Scribes had to hold their secret meetings right here.”
A small group of officials passed by in the tunnel behind them. One stopped and came back to the group. “You need to leave,” he ordered.
“We’re here for the tour!” the teacher said over the rushing water.
“No, you need to leave!” he shouted louder. “We have officials coming down here to check on things. There are no more tours today. You need to leave right now.” He was waving his hands at the kids encouraging them to move where he was gesturing.
The kids and parents followed without question, but the teacher was in a huff, stomping up to the man and demanding to know who he was and why hadn’t she been informed since she’d had this scheduled for months.
Mack made a face at Clove, and they followed the group back toward the exit.
Several Casters in official robes passed by in a hurry, whispering about running out of time with the tournament starting.
“The REV are going to be a problem,” one said.
“We’ve taken care of it,” another replied. “We’ve already headed them off.”
Clove and Mack exchanged glances and darted down a tunnel to the side.
“The REV are here,” she said.
“Remember the Ingini slaves that were being trafficked through the RCA Series thing?” Mack asked, and she nodded. “You think they’re doing it here, right now, down here?”
Why else shove a group of Revelian kids and their teacher out of the aqueduct? The guy hadn’t mentioned they were in danger. He’d worded it like they were an annoyance, something in the way.
“We need to look around,” she said.
But even as inconspicuous as they’d tried to appear, the tunnels were crawling with Casters.
“Come on.” Mack pulled her around another corner, away from the officials and the rushing water.
“We need to go in their direction, Mack. If they’re trafficking people here, then they’d be near them.”
