“No reason.” Elinor was too exhausted to try to explain her visions and hearing the voice of a man that should have died long ago. She changed the subject. “You still haven’t told me what happened after you took me.”
“I fled to the caves south of here. Your father trusted no one. Especially with you. Those were dark days, my lady. More so than now. Robbed of light, everyone went mad. They turned on one another. Their return to barbaric tribalism allowed this blight to fester. It spread like fire across a windswept plain, fueled by hatred and suspicion. Most of all, fear.”
“But he trusted you.”
Simtoren nodded. “Yes. Morbis believed Lancians could defeat the darkness.” He continued after another brief pause. “Being in his service was the greatest honor of my life.”
“What of my mother?”
“She never made it. Morbis escaped and met us at the caves. For a time, we existed in hiding. Eventually the hunters found us. We got separated one night during an attack. I decided to return here. It is the only home I have ever known.”
Elinor sighed heavily. Her youth appeared to have been drained by the presence of dark circles under her eyes and a peaked complexion. She turned from Simtoren. “I need to rest,” she said coldly.
“Forgive me, my lady. I did not intend to cause you further pain.”
Elinor stopped. She lingered for a moment, watching the scavenger paw at the gash on its snout. “Did this shadow raven have a name?” she asked.
Simtoren chuckled. “Shadow. Her name was Shadow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The connection with the girl had been severed. She could no longer link Aysgarth with the light-bearer. Without the girl, he could not be freed. Aysgarth would be trapped for eternity. And the girl was the last of her kind. There was no one else capable of delivering her coruscant to him. More recently, she had detected the presence of one of her own. But she knew better than to try to connect with her. She was one of them; those that had allowed her to be taken. There had been no remorse or a kindred sense of loyalty. They could have intervened, choosing instead to maintain their blessed neutrality. Although their blood was her blood, she felt alone. Unlike the others, she experienced emotion in the most remarkable ways. She often wondered if that was the reason why her kind had shown such disinterest in her. They were never deliberately cruel, but their silence and inaction had made their intentions clear. It was painful enough that most of Kalloire had shunned her coming, but having her own tribe treat her as an outcast was the harshest of all. That is why she had fallen so deeply for Aysgarth. He represented everything that was good. And whole. And pure. His love knew no bounds. Even when faced with losing everything, he still chose to stand by her. That was the kind of love worth fighting for. So that is exactly what she had done.
In their shortsightedness, other legatius had failed to see beyond her physical appearance. If they had opened their minds, perhaps to appreciate the coming of a shadow raven instead of considering her an abnormality, then they may have been able to see what Aysgarth saw. The beginning of things to come. The future. That is what Aysgarth had called her. The future.
Shadow opened her eyes when the cave moaned. Bright light appeared around her. She thought of trying to escape in shimmer, something she had not considered since the beginning of her confinement, but knew she was too weak to attempt it. The pulsating crystals prevented her from gathering enough energy to transition. Her prison had been designed well. Instead, her thoughts drifted to Aysgarth. Shadow contemplated if there was another way to free him without using the coruscant. A coruscant she had given him with instructions that after her death it be delivered to light-bearers; the only ones capable of managing its power. But without a light-bearer to carry it, the coruscant would never get back to Raven Rock. Aysgarth would not be freed. Without Aysgarth to protect her, the girl would die. And without the girl, Kalloire would die.
The walls stopped moving. As the rocks quieted, darkness returned. To protect Aysgarth from certain death, Shadow had sacrificed her heart. That moment in the cave she came to realize it would take much more, if not everything she had left to rescue him. Without an alliance between Aysgarth and the light-bearer, Kalloire was lost. There must be another way, she thought. There is always another way!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Elinor left Simtoren by the fire. She shimmied up a passage connected to a narrow corridor. At the top she paused to catch her breath. Algae provided just enough passive light for her to navigate. Elinor missed how it used to shine in her presence. With heavy legs, she continued. The corridor seemed to go on forever. She took several breaks. Each passing day she grew weaker. Her existence as a light-bearer seemed a distant memory. She was losing track of time. Not like before, but in a nonchalant kind of way. As one day merged with the next, time lacked meaning. There was little for her to live for. Elinor enjoyed her reading and was fascinated with learning about her tribe’s past, but something was missing. There was no longer a need for her to scavenge for food, or to choose whether to run or fight. Life had become ordinary. Her determination to find the Lancians was gone. Aysgarth too was becoming a distant memory. In her current mindset her quest seemed pointless. If the child couldn’t bring light back, how could I? As she shuffled forward, Elinor reminded herself that she still had fire. That comforting notion was the only aspect of her former life that she held on to. The rest was slowly fading.
Ahead, the space widened. Elinor emerged into a cozy room lit by candles. Her weapon was placed on the floor next to her bedding. In the corner, concealed behind a full-length mirror that leaned against the wall, was the outfit given to her by the child. Since her dramatic escape from Brim Hall, Elinor preferred the simple attire of a tree-dweller. The temple already offered plenty of reminders from her past. She didn’t need another one clinging to her skin. After taking off her pendant, Elinor lazily removed her clothes, tossing them on the floor next a lift-top table with gilt bronze fixtures. The legs were identical to the ax heads of her polearm. She opened the top and gently placed her pendant inside, then slid the cover shut. To her, it was still a pendant. One given to her by Morbis. Elinor never viewed it as a coruscant, or a weapon, or anything else for that matter. It was but a precious adornment given to her by her father. It was all she had left of him.
A wooden washbowl was filled with greenish-blue water taken from the surrounding lake. Even though Elinor had been practicing the same evening ritual since her arrival, the act of pouring water into the basin always reminded her of Brim Hall. The rustic pitcher in her possession was nothing like the mystical one used by the woman. But nonetheless, the aftermath of having drunk the honeyed water had a way of clawing to the forefront of her thoughts. And horrific thoughts they were.
As was the case each night, Elinor tried to put her past behind her by scrubbing hard. She did so while standing in front of the mirror. Watching water bead down her skin, Elinor noticed she appeared skinnier and less muscular than the previous evening. The tangled mop on her head looked dreadful. With a heavy sigh she pushed overgrown bangs away from her eyes. Heavy with filth, they fell back instantly. The image staring back was not the Elinor she remembered. Youthful determination with an edge of recklessness had been replaced by a pitiful reflection. It showed in her drooping eyes. It appeared in the lackluster glow of her skin. Frustrated, Elinor flung her wet cloth across the room. It made a dull splattering sound when it struck the wall. She turned on her heels, eyeing her body in the mirror as she left the room.
An air vent in the corridor was used to expedite her exit from the temple. Elinor slid down the smoothed surface and dropped into the lake. From underwater she emerged with a yelp, shivering in the icy water. Ripples moved across the surface from powerful breast strokes as she swam between tangled roots that rose from the lake to form dense thickets. Elinor stopped in the shallow area around a silt deposit. She crouched along the narrow edge, splashing water under her arms, between her legs, down her backside, and ac
ross her neck. The combination of a cool breeze and frigid water caused discomfort, but she was delighted to feel clean again. She stood and looked across the lake at the silhouette of the dead trees along the shore, wondering if anyone was still out there.
Standing on the edge of an outside walkway overlooking the lake, Simtoren cursed the dark and his failing vision. His decision to escape the scavenger’s unwanted company had been rewarded with the invigorating sight of a woman’s flesh. He felt guilty for violating Elinor’s privacy, but it didn’t stop his lurid fantasy. The warming sensation spreading through his loins couldn’t be ignored. Simtoren’s hand slid between his thighs. He undid his lace-up fly. Heat spread across his face as he used steady strokes to pleasure himself. Elinor was no longer the little girl he remembered. She was coming into her own. A lively, strong, cunning, full-bodied woman. The kind of lover a warrior desired. With a little effort, and a tad more good fortune, Elinor could be his.
He envisioned what it would be like to have her. To feel her warmth. The sensation of laying with another had no comparison. It had a way of calming the soul. And his was restless. It had been more than thirteen moon frosts since he last set eyes on Elinor. Back then she was a scrawny toddler. Not anymore. Simtoren imagined Elinor looking at him with her bold eyes, wanting him as much as he wanted her. He could almost feel her warm breath against his skin; her wet tongue pressing against his lips. A shiver moved through his body. When Elinor bent at the waist, he stroked faster.
Obsessed with satisfying his desires, Simtoren was unaware of the approaching presence. The predatory sound of scraping claws went undetected. A foul stench hung in the air. Simtoren’s eyes glistened as he got closer to his release. That is when he heard it. A throaty growl. He froze midstroke. With a slow turn of his head he looked into the scavenger’s leering eye. It was enlarged with rage. Simtoren’s hosen fell around his ankles. He fell backward, and scampered away on his hands and knees, dragging his belt across the ground, along with his pride. The scavenger dropped from its clinging position against the trunk and moved to the walkway’s ledge, staring down at Elinor who continued splashing in the water, oblivious to the commotion above.
After washing, Elinor dove under the surface. There was something about the muffled sound of being submerged in water that brought peace. It was eerily calming, similar to the feeling of being forgotten. She opened her eyes. It was dark. So very dark. Above was barely discernable from below. It would be easy for her to become disoriented. All she had to do was close her eyes again. It would be like going to sleep. But an eternal sleep she wouldn’t wake from. Was that so bad? she thought. What was left for her? A few moon frosts spent with an aging Lancian that likely didn’t have many left? Or the company of a gargan that barely uttered a word? Both lacked appeal. Any last hope she had of finding a suitable companion had died with the survivors at Brim Hall. Elinor’s chest tightened. She was running out of air.
Elinor thought about Ma΄Vastor. They hadn’t known one another for long, but she considered Ma΄Vastor a friend. Her only friend other than her father, who Elinor didn’t exactly place in the friend category. Her feelings toward Ma΄Vastor conjured emotions she had been suppressing. While slowly sinking, Elinor began to cry. As she drifted farther from the surface she had the clarity of self-reflection. How could she be content one moment, then be the complete opposite the next? What was her fascination with dying? She was consumed by emotion. Try as she might, she was unable to keep her mouth closed. Water rushed in, and on reflex she tried to take a breath. Instead of air filling her lungs she swallowed water. Elinor gagged. Then she panicked. Arms flailed and starved of oxygen her body convulsed. She could no longer recognize up from down.
During her struggle she detected movement in the water. It was but a flash. Then it was gone. But Elinor was certain of what she had seen. The glare of its red eyes and the gleaming trident held within its grasp was undeniable. Elinor felt herself being pulled to the surface. Struggling to maintain consciousness, she reached out her hand. What reached back was not the menacing hand of a sea wolf, but that of the impossible. Aysgarth. She knew his silvery eyes well. His red cape hovered around his body like a weightless shroud. Shoulder-length hair floated above his head. He stared with such conviction that Elinor gasped. Aysgarth had a firm hold of her wrist. She felt his weight pulling her down as another force pulled her from behind in the opposing direction.
Light-bearer, came a muffled cry. Harness your power! The lake was softened by pale light. Shimmering specks fluttered around Aysgarth. An uncanny vibration pulsed through the water. Below, what was once dark and foreboding appeared gentler.
The scavenger yanked Elinor above the surface. She gulped for air while spitting water. Using its shell as buoyancy to support her additional weight, the scavenger pulled Elinor to shore. With one arm tenderly placed around her, it used the other to claw its way onto a nearby root. Under the dark of night, they lay together, looking up at Kalloire’s shadow, both in their own way wondering what magical forces had transpired in the water.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
With nowhere else to be, the ancient one had decided to remain by the Emory Tree. There was no light strong enough to interest her anymore. When a new testalar had first appeared in the sky, her suspicion that Elinor had come into possession of Shadow’s coruscant was validated by Ka΄Phar’s veiled warning and attempt to smother it. But the ancient one’s intuition was limited by shadow. An ancient one’s power of foresight came from light. The coruscant, however, had belonged to a different type of ancient one, one born of light and shadow. That is why she had been considered an outsider. No other could connect to her.
Possessing a collective mind, ancient ones’ experiences were shared. They existed in harmony. But Shadow was unique. Her actions, along with her destiny, remained unknown to them. It wasn’t the possibility of light returning that had fueled the testalar’s formation as the ancient one had perceived. It was the timeless connection between Shadow and Aysgarth, made possible through a coruscant that came into the possession of a light-bearer, who had been connected to it at birth. It was the perfect coming together of fates. One that Shadow had foreseen.
It was known that Shadow had done the unthinkable by giving Aysgarth a coruscant. A mighty power that had no right to be in the hands of a mortal. Only the original recipient of a coruscant, or a light-bearer could wield its power. What Shadow used the coruscant to create for Aysgarth, and her visions of Kalloire’s future, however, remained hidden. There was too much shadow concealing light for it to be seen by other ancient ones. Aysgarth was thought to be dead. As was Shadow. And the ancient one believed Elinor’s role was to use the coruscant to correct the imbalance. Not to free a Lancian she held responsible for Shadow’s demise.
A searing pain struck deep within the ancient one’s eyes. Her staff glowed. Something was using her as a conduit to connect to her testalar. Only another of her kind could accomplish this. Ancient ones considered such an act as a betrayal of their collective union. It was forbidden. Although they shared their light, and much more, the link between an ancient one and their testalar was sacred—a union ordained by mystical forces unique as the stars they originated from. Incensed, she leapt to her feet.
“Show yourself,” she demanded. “You are not of us!” Her angry reaction defied typical behavior.
Another shooting pain struck her forehead. The ancient one fell to her knees. Between sporadic flashes of blinding agony, in her mind she saw the Eternal Tree. A blurry image of a Lancian appeared. He seemed to be underwater. “Child,” she murmured when Elinor came into focus. Then she watched as a scavenger separated Elinor from the Lancian. The vision evaporated. Her testalar quieted. As did the intrusion into her mind.
The ancient one leaned against the Emory Tree, collecting her wits, and contemplating what had occurred. It was an unwelcome feeling to be caught off guard and defenseless. The experience was unnerving. If Ka΄Phar had the strength to take control of a testala
r, then the balance may be on the verge of becoming irreversible. If light-bearers vanished, did that also mean ancient ones were in danger of perishing? That notion motivated her to act. The collective must be protected, she told herself. She needed answers. Based on what she had seen, the light-bearers’ temple seemed as good a place as any to begin her search. But there was one major obstacle to overcome. Since Morbis’s death and the taking of Elinor’s afterglow, there was not enough light to travel in shimmer. Kalloire was becoming more shadow than light. And without the child’s protection, she was unwilling to attempt it. It was too dangerous. She could be tracked and would be vulnerable to attack by Ka΄Phar. Her only option was to transit in raven form like she had done when the new testalar had first fallen.
And fly she did. The ancient one morphed into raven form, leaving behind the Emory Tree, and her last connection to a dark past. Or so she thought. The collective’s decision to allow Shadow to be executed had been a difficult one. Not all had agreed it was the appropriate action. Which was highly unusual for ancient ones. They reached consensus on everything: how to treat mortals; to maintain neutrality in all things; the interpretation of visions; even their commitment to the old ways, by embracing the notion that the well-being of the collective must take priority above all else. It was the latter that led to lengthy deliberation among their ranks, and eventually led to the fracturing of the collective. Then after Shadow was killed, everything had changed.
The ancient one chose to concentrate on the present, not the past that couldn’t be altered. Decisions had been made and there was no going back. Regret was dangerous. Even for them. Doubt had a way of taking root deep within the subconscious. Once one was infected, it could spread through the collective by manifesting in dark thoughts and contaminated foresight. Ancient ones believed doubt should be left to mortals. It had no place in the minds of celestials.
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