Heartbreaker

by V. Romas Burton

  "Yes, you did,” I said. He winced at my words. "But that's in the past now," I continued, remembering what Eman had told me before. "Everything that happened in the past can't be changed. What matters is what we do now." Pulling out the sword, I offered him the gilded hilt, imitating Eman. "This time, together, we won’t fail. I promise to fight for Decim. Can you promise to me, even in the face of failure, that you’ll stand by me? To unite the Twelve Magisters and defeat Ophidian?”

  Like James, fear and anxiety had crippled me for years. Every pang of loneliness from not having parents had tormented me. Each wave of abandonment from losing Lyle had tortured my soul. And, while sorrow and pain would always be with me, I wouldn’t let them control me ever again. I wasn’t about to let regret define James’s life, either. We wouldn’t be fighting the coming battle alone. Together, we’d be stronger. Together, we would win.

  James eyed me carefully, his gaze darting from my face to the sword as he ran a hand through his graying hair. With a resolute snort, he gave a nod before extending his hand toward the hilt. As soon as his large fingers encased my own, a line of white light wrapped around our hands, twisting in on itself until an intricate knot formed. A surge of cold power rushed from our grip and into my heart. I stepped back, feeling the power solidify in my chest. When the knot tightened, the light dissipated from the air, sprinkling to the ice below.

  "An iuram," James coughed with fascination, staring down at our hands. "It’s been many years since I’ve seen one made.”

  “Eman showed me,” I replied, placing a hand on my chest. James’s power circled around my heart, empowering and protecting it.

  “It’s a powerful oath,” James continued, flexing his fingers. “Not many can bind another to an iuram without the use of strong power." The final light faded, and we broke apart.

  "I am bound by my oath to you, Bellata," James said, lowering to one knee. "You are the prophesized warrior that will save Decim, and I will fight with you until the end."

  I bent my fingers a few times, the cool power rushing through my blood. I reached my hand out to James, not wanting him to treat me as his superior. James smirked before grasping my hand and standing. He brushed the grime off his slacks, and we continued to the market.

  A fierce wind erupted, spewing debris against our already frozen faces. We both held up our arms as shields. Hunching forward, we marched through the slick terrain, fighting the strong gusts with each step. I didn't remember the air being so thick or demanding.

  As we reached the market entrance, my eyes widened despite the wind, taking in the scene. Displays were knocked over, broken beyond repair with holes torn through their fabric roofs. Countless items were sprawled, tattered, and broken along the street. The old clock tower that hadn’t told time in years had fallen into a pile of rubble. Pieces of its stone pillar were scattered through the market, buried beneath the snow.

  The air smelled of ice, but a repulsive stench hid beneath it. I wrinkled my nose.

  "What happened here?"

  James shook his head, his eyes narrowed as he continued to scan the market. “Nothing good.”

  I took a step to investigate when something soft squished beneath my foot. A rotting odor secreted from the now smashed fruit. Covering my nose in disgust, I wiped it off my boot in a nearby snowbank.

  As I scanned the area, I spied several footprints still imprinted in the ice. They were smeared and pointed away from the market as if people were running frantically. The eerie quiet crept across my skin, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. The destroyed displays and rotting food were disturbing enough, but where was everyone?

  A door slammed at the far end of the market, and I jumped. Was there someone else here? Hope rose in my chest as I gathered my dress and bolted toward it, dodging the wooden boards and shattered glass across my path. The door slammed again, and I spun to the left, stomping through the ice until Doctor Magnum's office came into view. The memory of Doctor Magnum’s Extraction tool flew into my mind. Shaking my head, I placed a hand over my heart, assuring it that it would never be extracted like my last one.

  Maneuvering around a barrel splattered with colorful paints, I made my way to the door. Disappointment drowned my hope, as I found the culprit to be the wind.

  Testing the rusted knob, I tiptoed into the familiar office, gently shutting the door behind me. The legs of the patients’ chairs were broken off or missing entirely. Strands of shredded newspaper were spread all over the floor, muddied and crumpled. My shoulders fell as I remembered how tidy Doctor Magnum had kept everything. At least the sterile scent of the office kept the stench from outside away.

  When I turned to leave, a glint of color beneath a sheet of newspaper caught my eye. Pulling the sword from the ring of the satchel, I dragged its tip along the page and gasped. Large, blotched letters scrawled across it: Run. The end of the n whipped to the right as if the person writing it had been yanked away before they could finish.

  Crouching down, I traced the letters, the dark substance flaking off on my chilled fingertips. It’d been dry for a while. A nauseating knot twisted in the back of my throat. There was no way this dull red-brown was cherry filling.

  I focused on the letters and traced them once more. "What happened to you, Doctor Magnum?"

  Moving more of the newspapers out of the way, I found my answer. Five long claw marks were etched into the stone floor. I sucked in a sharp breath.

  Standing abruptly, I hurried out of Doctor Magnum's office. James lifted a log out of the path, then wiped his brow and stared in the direction of Nana's house.

  "James," I said. "Ophidian was here. Or at least the siti were."

  James nodded thoughtfully as he crossed his arms over his chest, not adverting his gaze from Nana’s house. I followed his line of sight, confusion threading through my thoughts. Had he known Nana?

  “Is there someone you’d like to see?” I asked, my intrigue of the Magister growing.

  “There’s someone I’ve been wanting to see for a long time,” he replied hoarsely. Tugging on his pack, James marched over the broken displays of Heart Reign toward my grandmother’s house.

  Excitement bubbled in my chest as I bounded through the debris to catch up with him. The memory of Nana’s journal and the man who had returned her extracted heart resurfaced in my thoughts. Could James be him?

  Small flakes of snow spiraled around us as we stopped in front of the old house. It had aged since I was here last. Shingles from the roof scattered the icy ground, and the shutters were askew or missing. A black shutter from the top window swung by a single hinge, a shuddersome squeak escaping from the rusted metal as the wind rustled by. I clasped my hands in front of me, praying that my fears were unfounded.

  James didn’t move. He opened his mouth, but no words came out, not even a cough or wheeze.

  I placed a hand on his shoulder before sliding past him and up the wooden stairs, enjoying the familiarity of their creaking. The rickety steps creaked again as James followed.

  Once we reached the porch, we both stood outside the wooden door. A giant claw mark had slashed through it, leaving five long gaps in the wood.

  Lifting the sword, I pressed the tip against the weathered boards. The door slowly swung in, sending all my senses on alert.

  The floorboards groaned beneath my steps as I scanned Nana's house. Splintered pieces of wood from her bookshelf covered the ground, and shards of glass from the shattered windows gleamed on top of broken furniture. Claw marks punctured everything. My new heart ached at the sight. If this was what the siti had done to the house, what had they done to Nana and Silas?

  James wandered through the rooms as if in a daze, picking up things and turning them right-side up. A few canned jars seemed out of place on the windowsill, but I continued searching, letting James have this time to himself.

  A rustling came from Nana’s living room, and I plastered my back against the wall. Fear froze my muscles as my heart hammered in my chest. Someone
else was here. James stopped moving, too. As did the rustling. As softly as I could, I tiptoed toward the living room.

  My breathing became quiet, my pulse quieter. The only sound was the roll of the saliva running down my throat as I swallowed my nerves. The rustling sounded once more, only to stop again when I did. I'd learned how the siti attacked. This was no siti.

  Bracing myself against the wall, I closed my eyes and focused. Ophidian could have created any number of creatures to stay in Barracks. Eman had said the Beast could make more. I had already witnessed the power of the siti, phagos, and malum. I didn’t want to meet any more.

  Or I could be paranoid, and it could be a small animal searching for food. Either way, I was going to find out.

  Taking a deep breath, I tightened my grip around the hilt of the sword. In one solid move, I lunged, swinging my sword wide, only to hear the clanging of metal against metal.

  My eyes flew open as my sword clashed against Nana's long, iron fire poker. I followed the line of the iron to the hand holding it, then up the black sweater to the ferocious face staring back at me. I gasped as the hand released the poker, sending it to the ground with a clang.

  Chapter 2

  “Addie?” Silas asked, his jaw gaping as his warm chestnut eyes roved over my face in disbelief.

  Before I could respond, two strong arms wrapped around me so tightly I could barely breathe. Smoke and cedarwood enveloped my nose as Silas crushed me against his chest. The sword dropped from my grip as my body turned rigid against his. Was Silas real?

  He lowered his hands too soon, furrowing his brows. I realized my muscles were tense—ready to bolt.

  “Addie,” he breathed again, steadying me as he took a step away.

  I blinked at him, confusion and turmoil overwhelming my thoughts. Steady Silas had a crooked smile on his lips: the beautiful crooked smile I had seen in Ophidian’s Realm. But there, it wasn’t real. Was it real here? Even if it wasn’t, it was the most amazing thing I had ever seen.

  “I thought I lost you," he said softly, still examining me.

  My heart tore between the Choices and the present. Too many emotions and thoughts swirled inside of me. It was better not to speak. I shook my head, sending my short dark curls sprawling.

  His grin faltered, but he didn’t move from his position. "What happened to your hair?"

  I tucked a strand behind my ear, focusing on the muddied hem of my dress. I couldn't tell Silas of the shame I held from Ophidian's Realm. From every door, I had received a mark, a scar of what happened there. Though not all of them could be physically seen, they were all still fresh and easily torn open. I had cut my hair to be rid of my greed, but the burns on my skin, though healed, were still aflame beneath my skin, reminding me of that horrid blue door.

  "I know it looks bad," I finally said, refusing to meet his gaze as the memories of the beautiful blonde woman he had danced with whipped through my mind. Reaching up, I grasped a short curl and twirled it around my finger.

  Silas took a cautious step forward as if I were a frightened animal and would run at any sudden movement. "No, it looks beautiful. You always look beautiful."

  My pulse elevated at his words, and I took in his soft gaze. Was this all a dream, another trick? Steady Silas would never be so forward and say things like this.

  I tried to conjure some sort of response when Silas slowly reached for my hand, untangling my finger from my hair. I didn’t stop him as he lifted it to his lips. I worried that his touch would singe my flesh, but it didn’t. Instead, a soft, warm flutter danced on my skin and into my heart, wrapping it with comfort and peace.

  For a moment, the memories fled, allowing me to study Silas as he released my hand. His tall stature and strong muscles. His handsome face and tousled golden locks. I let out a small gasp as I finally saw three red lines etched from his forehead down to his neck. I recognized the brand of the siti, but how Silas managed to survive, I had no idea.

  My heart tugged toward him, and I took a step closer. "Silas, what happened?"

  Before he could respond, the mechanical sound of wheels along the old wooden floor rolled toward us.

  "Addie?" a withered voice asked.

  I spun around, my eyes locking onto Nana. Her white hair was thinner than it had ever been, revealing the pale skin of her scalp. Her arms and legs were corpselike. So frail, they would probably break with any movement. My heart almost cracked at the sight because I knew it was my fault.

  A fresh batch of tears welled in my eyes, and I rushed toward her. She extended her trembling arms with a weak smile, beckoning me closer.

  "I'm so sorry, Nana," I cried as I fell to the ground, clutching her old, tattered skirt. A musky scent ballooned from the fabric.

  "Shhh, child. There's nothing to apologize for." She stroked my hair as if I were a carefree child once more.

  Closing my eyes, I relished the closeness until I remembered why I had left Barracks in the first place. Releasing my grip on her skirt, I whispered, "I found Lyle."

  Nana’s hand paused as she gasped.

  Heavy steps pounded against the creaking wood and into the living room. I glanced over my shoulder to find James standing in the doorway. He nervously rubbed his jaw as if he were scared to come closer. A cry of shock, pain, and relief shot from Nana's mouth, making me jump. Tears streamed down her wrinkles, as a haggard sob broke from her lips. I moved out of the way as James knelt before her. He took her hands in his and bowed his head.

  "Anna." He kissed her old hands. "Will you ever forgive me?" His shoulders shuddered with each word.

  Nana, too overcome by emotion, laid a delicate hand on James’s head before lifting it. She placed a tender kiss on his forehead, and James wrapped his arms gently but tightly around her.

  I turned away from the tender embrace, fiddling with the ends of Lyle’s sweater. Was James the man from Nana’s journal? He had to be.

  “Addie,” James said, wiping his eyes on his plaid shirt sleeve before standing. Though his voice was hoarse, his face was bright and alive. “Eman thought it best not to give you too much information at once.”

  “But” —Nana cut in softly, taking James’s thick hand in her own thin one— “James is my husband. He’s your grandfather.”

  “Really?” I beamed, my gaze darting between the pair. “How long have you known we’re related?”

  “The first time I saw you in the Sixth Choice, I hoped that one of my kin hadn’t been sucked into Ophidian’s lies,” James explained. “But after I saw how you defeated the Choice and stood up to the Beast, I knew you were my granddaughter. Eman confirmed it when we arrived in Ramni.”

  I remembered when James had saved me from the light wall in the Sixth Choice, then again when he battled Schism and cloaked us from Ophidian when we were fleeing. My grandfather, all this time. Though I wish he would’ve told me sooner, I easily accepted James. The pieces of my family were starting to come together again.

  I jumped toward James and flung my arms around him. Burrowing into his flannel shirt, I breathed in pine and ice. I peered up at him with a grin and asked, “Does this mean I can call you Paw Paw now?”

  His body went stiff beneath my hug, and he coughed twice before patting my back. “James is fine.”

  Releasing him from my grasp, I chuckled. “Sounds good.”

  A hand lightly touched my shoulder, and I glanced over to Silas. Placing his hands in his pockets, he jerked his head toward the kitchen. Turning back to Nana and James, Nana gave me a delicate smile of encouragement. I tilted my head to the side. First Silas, now Nana. There were so many new and beautiful smiles to admire.

  As I followed Silas, my boots brushed the tip of the sword. The mark of the Mender glimmered as I stooped down to retrieve it before entering the kitchen.

  Silas’s back faced me as his hands gripped the edge of the sink. A line of tension ran through his broad shoulders, and I paused in the threshold. My fingers flittered with nerves as I gripped them around the hilt
. Why was I so nervous?

  His shoulders rose and fell before he faced me. Those warm chestnut eyes stirred with questions as they focused on me before moving to the floor. Silas rubbed the back of his neck, his throat bobbing before he spoke.

  "It's been so long, Addie," he said quietly. "I thought—" He ran a hand through his hair. It was thick, much longer than how I remembered. And it matched the light-blond hairs growing on his jawline. Silas was even more handsome with a beard. How had I not noticed before? "I thought you were dead."

  My breath hitched. If only he could understand how close I had been to dying. I licked my lips, dreading my next question, but I had to ask. "How long?"

  "Over a year."

  "What?" I found the nearest unbroken chair and collapsed into it before I could faint.

  A year? It was only days to me. How could I have been gone over a year? I leaned my head on my hand as my mind raced back to the ruins of the market. Something must have happened after I left.

  "You didn't know?" Silas asked, pulling a clawed stool up to the table.

  I shook my head and placed the sword on the table where the shined metal winked at me. Eman was right. Time did flow differently between our realms. A lot differently.

  Yanking my satchel off my shoulder, I placed it in my lap and hugged it. "I had to go. I had to know what happened to Lyle. I had to see if there was a way to save him."

  Silas balled his hand into a fist on the table. "And you did? You found Lyle?" I nodded. "Where is he?"

  "With Em—” I stopped, realizing Silas wouldn’t recognize the name. “With the Mender.” I pointed to the mark on the sword. “He's real, Silas. Just like the stories said. Everything, the good and the evil. It's all real."

  Silas leaned back, and his muscles relaxed as if relieved. “That’s great, Addie.” He started to reach out to me, but stopped, noticing me tense at the movement. Recoiling, he asked, "Is Lyle okay? Is he safe?"