by Elise Kova
Vi buried her face into his shoulder, weeping until the tears no longer came. She expelled the last of her humanity, the last of her feeling, through her eyes. This was their curse, after all.
They had never been made for happy endings.
Finally, when the sun hung low in the sky, Vi peeled herself away from him. With one hand on his shoulder, she whispered, “Juth mariy. Come undone.”
His skin began to glow. Pure light peeled off his body like ashes cast from an invisible fire. The magic she had made that held him together unraveled all too easily. Beneath it all was the crystal she had taken from the Caverns. It was the essence of Yargen that had lived in the Sword of Jadar, the Caverns, and the scythe.
She allowed that power to flow into her, as if she could steal some of the last of his essence. After getting a taste of it, Vi couldn’t help absorbing it hungrily. It dulled some senses and heightened others. Yargen’s power was a balm to her pain and she invited it into her.
All she was missing was the Flame of Yargen.
She was nearly complete.
Blinking, Vi saw the world with new eyes. Everything seemed to have a vibration to it, a faint outline of magic that she had never seen before. In everything was both light and darkness, woven together and held in perfect balance. She looked down at her hands and saw the power of Yargen shining over top them. Tiny glyphs of words she was certain she would’ve never understood before had meaning.
The language of the gods was becoming known to her. With two of the three parts of Yargen within her, there was no Lightspinning she couldn’t do.
Taavin’s body had been reduced to obsidian dust. There wasn’t even a lock of his hair for her to keep as a memento. Vi reached for the pocket watch. It was all she had left of him, and now she had to give it away.
She dressed slowly in the same robes she wore the last time she met Vhalla in this place. It no longer felt like a costume she donned to play at fate.
Downstairs, Vi destroyed the few remaining objects on the shop’s shelves with juth. It was an empty catharsis, and did little to make her feel better. Finally, she pulled back the curtain and lit a single candle.
Memories danced like shadow puppets in the flame of ninety-two other moments when a Vi had stood ready to perform this task. Each was a vision she shouldn’t have. Each carried an instruction for what must be done, but Vi didn’t want to expend the effort to understand what was being asked of her.
She didn’t want to think—Mother above, she barely wanted to breathe. Everything was too confusing and wholly too much. Taavin was gone, there was little reason left for Vi to remain in the world as she was. Her time was up. She was ready to submit to Yargen.
“I don’t want to do this,” Vi whispered into the darkness. Her hand was still clutched around the watch. It had been Taavin’s final wish to see it given to Vhalla to ensure the birth of a new Champion. She wanted to honor that, but… “I don’t have the strength to give him away.”
Then don’t, a voice whispered from within. Let me. I know what must be done, and you have given me enough strength to do it.
Yargen’s words were as clear as her presence. Vi could imagine the goddess standing behind her, hands on Vi’s shoulders, ready to swap places. Vi closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I leave it to you.”
Her physical eyes opened once more. But all Vi continued to see was darkness. Tonight was the beginning of the end as Vi relinquished her body to Yargen’s will.
When she came to, hours later, the watch was gone. Vi could only assume that it had been given to Vhalla, but her mind was blank on the details. Try as she might, Vi couldn’t quite graps why the watch had been so important in the first place.
Every time she reached for the explanation she knew existed, the words evaporated like morning dew.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Consciousness had faded in and out over the past few weeks. She would go to sleep somewhere, and wake up somewhere else. Her movements were sometimes jerky and sometimes fluid. Vi could feel the goddess settling in, as gracefully as trying to squeeze into a too-tight pair of trousers. Except, the trousers were her skin.
But mortal bodies and mortal minds were surprisingly flexible things… or at least, they could be when prodded enough. The transition wasn’t easy, but Vi’s awareness slowly returned with consistency, and she started to remember more hours than she forgot. For as much as Yargen wanted to be fully in control, they were still missing a piece of the goddess’s essence. Thus, for now, the goddess had to continue to work with Vi, making her will known with whispers or outright commands.
Vi stood at the top of the palace, watching the battle for the future of the Dark Isle unfold. How she’d made it back to Solarin and sneaked past Victor’s barriers in the city was unknown to her. Aldrik and Vhalla had ridden into the city with an army from the West, North, and East. Vi didn’t move from her spot the entire first day of the battle. The second day of fighting dawned and Vi saw the tides of war already shifting in their favor.
It wouldn’t be long now.
She twisted the watch that bore the sun and wing around her neck, staring out the window. This was not her watch. The watch Vi had carried had been smooth and unblemished. That watch had carried something important to her…
… something…
What it was eluded her now.
She’d last seen the watch she now wore on Vhalla’s neck, when they were leaving the North after the end of the war. How it had jumped from Vhalla’s person to hers was a mystery lost in the darkness of that last, long night in the Crossroads. It was a mystery Vi didn’t try to remember. Yargen assured her it was better not to think about it. And, frankly, it seemed so insignificant in the face of all the horrible things she’d seen and let transpire over the years.
Day by day, her emotions became more muted. Perhaps it was survival, since she was now sharing a palace with the mortal lunatic, Victor, who was becoming more and more twisted by the powers his body was not meant to house. Raspian was chewing up Victor alive, savoring each bite of the mortal man.
Or perhaps she was unfazed by the horrors, and the human part of her had left entirely with Taavin. All that remained was the Champion, a vessel waiting to become the goddess.
Taavin. The name had her eyes fluttering closed as she allowed the memory of his hands to touch her all over. It was because of him that she was still here.
She’d told him she would see Victor ended before heading to Salvidia. She would look after Vhalla Yarl. Had it been a vow to him or herself? Had it been a vow at all?
Vi couldn’t remember anymore. It didn’t really matter. She was here, now, and Victor would be dead soon. A few days more in the grand plan didn’t make much of a difference.
Reaching into her pocket, Vi retrieved an earring and uttered, “Narro hath.”
The connection stretched out into the ether. Vi watched the circling rune as she waited in silence. There was a long pause before Adela’s voice was heard reverberating toward her, as if the woman stood on the other side of a long cave.
“I was beginning to think you’d died.”
“I am beyond death.”
A noise somewhere between a chuckle of amusement and a sigh reverberated through to her. “Always the odd one… I assume this is the moment where you call on me?”
“Yes. You will go to Risen and collect Deneya—my companion that you dropped there about a year ago. She’ll be waiting to meet your men to the south of the city. Then you will come to Oparium, where I will meet your men in the Cock and Crow. Finally, we will head to Salvidia so that I might put an end to this vortex.”
“Fine, fine.” Adela dismissed matters of the world’s fate with a yawn. “This will use up your remaining trips. You won’t have a way to get back from Salvidia.”
“That’s acceptable.”
“Is it? I hear the elfin’ra are thrilled for fresh meat since their barrier fell. Can’t imagine wha
t they’d do to the Champion of—”
“That’s for me to worry about, not you,” Vi interrupted.
“Very well.” Adela made a clear effort to sound both tired and bored of the situation. “I will head to Risen and then meet you in Oparium.”
Vi dropped the communication glyph and the connection fizzled. She returned the hoop to her pocket and brought her attention back to the fighting far below. Howling wind slammed against the castle’s main entry, battering the heavy doors. Vhalla was there, assaulting it with her gusts.
“Rhoko,” Vi murmured and watched the crystals Victor had caked the doors with shatter. “You’ll need your strength, Vhalla Yarl. Save it for the real battle.”
As the army poured into the castle, Vi descended to meet it.
On her path through the various hallways, she unlocked every door that was barred. With waves of her hands, she sent Victor’s imitation crystals scattering, though more were likely to grow. Raspian’s power radiated from Victor’s body, condensing in the halls he frequented.
They looked like Yargen’s magic to the naked eye, since they were also godly power given form. But Vi could feel how wrong these stones were. They would soon all be destroyed when the man himself perished, then Raspian would need a new mortal vessel—one that would allow him to face her.
Vi continued to walk calmly as the sounds of war filled the air. She descended to the cleric’s old rooms, mostly abandoned now, and donned some clerical garb. Vi put a cloth over her face and knotted her hair simply at the top of her head. Then, she set out to find the clerical portion of the army, adopting her new identity.
Running full tilt to the stables, Vi searched for signs of healers. She saw a few arriving at the end of the vanguard, led by a woman with dark spiral curls—Elecia.
“My lady!” Vi ran over to her. “There’s a wing of the castle that I think would be perfect for triage,” Vi blurted before Elecia could say anything. She kept her voice frantic, as though she was panicked and not deathly calm. “I can show you—it’s a hall not far from here.”
“Show me,” Elecia demanded. “You five, take the men you think we can save and follow us.”
Vi escorted them through the castle to a central dining area that had originally been for servants and staff. It connected up through a stair to the old clerical wing. She looked to Elecia. “Will this do?”
“Well enough. I know where we are. Go and make yourself useful by directing other clerics and wounded here.” Elecia spoke to the five who had carried wounded soldiers with them. “Lay them out here, the worst on those tables. We’ll overflow to the garden down the hall if we need to.”
Vi went to leave, but something stopped her. It wasn’t a whisper of the goddess, but words from the young woman she’d once been. If she was successful, and the world didn’t end… This was the last moment she had to adjust anything in the Solaris Empire.
These final hours were her last chance to right any wrongs.
“Elecia.” A sliver of the girl she’d once been returned with the memories of the sting of a betrayal most cruel.
“What?” she said sharply, turning.
“Wounds of the mind can be more damaging and harder to heal than those of the flesh,” Vi said. “The man with the sword of wheat lives. Tell the remaining members of his golden brethren to seek him out. They will do what must be done.”
Daniel is alive, Vi wanted to say. Look after him. But she couldn’t. It was hard to speak straight now. Her mouth—her entire body—wasn’t really her own anymore, and every action was a negotiation.
“All right…” Elecia said uncertainly and confusion alight in her eyes.
“Excuse me,” Vi gave a bow and spun on her heel, leaving before the woman could question her.
She didn’t head back down to collect other wounded men and women still lying on the streets of the city, as Elecia had instructed. Instead, she strolled out to a garden and positioned herself hidden among the shrubbery, where she could watch a birdcage greenhouse.
This is a place of fate.
Aldrik appeared, frantic, Vhalla dying in his arms. There was no sign of Victor. He was defeated then.
She’d been right: the magic he’d siphoned from Raspian was little more than a taste. If it had been anything of substance, Vhalla and Aldrik wouldn’t have been able to end him. She could already feel the dark god’s magic leaving this place like a heavy fog lifting. It dissipated into the ether between the worlds of men and gods, to search for its next host.
Aldrik ran out and then returned with Elecia. But the curly haired woman soon darted from the greenhouse, shouting, “I’m going to try to find Sehra!”
The instinct was right. Out of everyone, Sehra was the only one with enough magic to heal Vhalla. But the girl was not versed enough—not powerful enough—to cure the wounds Vhalla had.
Durroe watt ivin. The words echoed from within. She didn’t need to speak them aloud anymore. She was as much the words as the words were her. The glyphs bent to her will, rising to the surface, and giving her Sehra’s face.
She stepped forward and drifted down the path before entering the greenhouse.
The first thing she noticed was the smell of roses, potent and bright, warm and oddly familiar.
Where did we smell these before?
Ah, yes.
These were Fiera’s roses. Just one inhale took her all the way back to the early days on this world. But that had been a different Vi then, a less evolved one. A Vi who had wants and fears—all things she was now able to set aside.
“Sehra,” Aldrik pleaded with tears in his eyes. “Save her please, your magic, can it—”
“I understand.” Vi’s eyes rested on Vhalla. Their last meeting in that long, dark night had been so contentious and painful. Those were emotions she hardly felt now, looking at the girl. Crackles of red lightning illuminated the air around Vhalla, visible only to Vi’s new eyes. Her magic had been cast out of balance. Raspian was a wicked entity, indeed. Kneeling next to her, Vi spoke gently, “You did well. The crystals’ magic is diminishing. They were never meant to be used as they were, manipulated for man’s greed. They weren’t left with that intent.”
“What?” Aldrik asked.
“You saw them. They turn brittle and shatter under their own weight. They will be gone by dawn.” And I will take the magic of the divine off this land for good. If Vi had one wish left, it was to see that nothing of Raspian, or Yargen, ever returned to the Dark Isle.
“Princess, we need to act quickly,” Aldrik urged. “She’s dying.”
“I know.” Vi’s attention remained solely on Vhalla. “Vhalla Yarl, after all that you have been through, do you still want to be upon this earth?”
“How can you ask that? Of course I do.”
“Of course,” Vi repeated. Fate still had plans for Vhalla, after all. Plans that Vi’s yet mortal consciousness couldn’t fully grasp. “Very well. I will grant you the power of Yargen one more time. I will change this fate set before you.”
Her body moved and both of Vi’s hands were on Vhalla’s cheeks. She felt a small smile cross her lips. Was this what happiness and contentment felt like? She couldn’t remember.
Halleth.
The word flowed through her. There weren’t any modifiers, any need for clarification—simply, heal. With a tender touch, Vi guided every frayed and out-of-place thread of magic within her body back into its rightful spot. She mended wounds. She sought to return Vhalla to the state she was in before this darkness had settled on the land.
Satisfied, Vi pulled her hands away and stood. She swayed slightly, looking at Vhalla and Aldrik for what she knew was the last time. These people she’d watched over for years. Now, she would leave them to live out their days as they were meant to do.
“Are you all right?” Aldrik asked her.
“I am, but time is short. I’m no longer meant for this world.” She had a dark god to settle the score with.
“Sehra, we can seek out anoth
er cleric.”
“No need.” Vi paused at the door. “You did well, but things are only beginning. The vortex still spins.” And the only one who could end it was her.
“Sehra!” Vhalla jumped to her feet.
“If that is the name you choose.” Vi gave her one last smile and slipped out the door, walking away from the lives of Vhalla and Aldrik one final time.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sea mist sprayed her face as Vi sat serenely in the rowboat that carried her far out around the corners of the cliffs of Oparium. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, feet tucked under her. She swayed with the rolling of the ocean, never off-balance, always expecting the next wave that would jostle the little vessel.
The pirates who were escorting her, however, had less luck. They were tossed back and forth in the gray seas. A storm brewed on the horizon; Vi searched it for red lightning.
The Stormfrost stood anchored in a wide-mouthed cove. The mist that peeled off of it in sheets acted as a natural camouflage, mostly obscuring the vessel in fog. But there wasn’t much travel in these waters yet. Victor had died a mere day ago, and significant rebuilding had to happen before anyone was trading in the seas around the Dark Isle.
The pirates gave her wary glances from time to time, more when they hooked up the rigging. The natural magics surrounding their bodies, the ones Vi was learning made up every living thing, vibrated with apprehension. She made them anxious, which amused her.
At least, she thought it was amusing to her.
One of the men reluctantly offered her his hand to help her on deck and Vi accepted it. He went rigid at her touch and then massaged his palm when her fingertips left it. A smile quirked her lips. Yes, these mortal anxieties were, indeed, amusing, much like she imagined a mother would be amused by their child fretting over a rip in the dress of a beloved doll.
