When the pillar of flames vanished, Luthan collapsed to his knees. He raised his head to the battle, only to see his wife running toward the undead beast. He wanted to shout, to catch her attention, but his voice failed him. Luthan was on the ground, more than exhausted, unable to do anything but watch. Berius ran to him.
Jules witnessed Ahna’s power before them all. Because Ahna was no longer the same. She was no longer the dark elf he had met at the mines of Orgna, afraid of people’s judgment and mostly herself. She was a beacon of light in the dark. She was who she was meant to be.
And she was going to save the city.
* * *
Ahna rose above the ground, carried by an explosion of light that eradicated everything in its path. Thamias was cast aside, safe. What were left of the undead were instantly eradicated. Only the fiend remained, frozen in place, obstructed by the crystalline light. It tried to move, but it was impossible to. The light pulsed and fluctuated like a star about to explode again. Its deafening sounds pounded through everyone’s chests louder than their hearts. In this grasp of chaos that could have shattered her mind, Ahna felt peace. She knew exactly what she had to do, and she knew that she could do it.
Ahna touched the ground again, first with the tip of her feet, landing softly. The light that whirled around her and the void dragon formed a cage of brilliance that trapped it in place. Ahna sauntered to it, letting the light closest to her stabilize and gather where it belonged. Those who could see her noticed what surged from her back. Four wings of bright crystal that allowed her to fly. A clear reflection of the pure power within her. The wings beat gently as she soared again toward the fiend.
In her palm, Ahna held the Caged Wings that had now fully opened. She reached out to the creature when she came close to the base of its neck, touching its skin with the soul sigil. The talisman glowed blue and fractured before dissipating into the oozing skin of the void dragon.
Ahna closed her eyes, her hands still touching it. The dragon arched its neck back and roared. It screeched so loud that the castle walls vibrated, and every window shattered instantly. It was in so much pain, but it was slowly changing. Rays of cerulean light transpierced its skin. The void dragon was taking its final breath. It would soon die, and the soul would be released. Cedric’s soul would be released and ascend to the Domain of Stars.
But was it really fair? After decades of torment, was the captain of the Shrike Wing not due a life? A life of freedom he could cherish?
Was it Ahna’s right to decide that?
Who knew...but she had the power to do so. She knew it. It all made sense now, who she was, and what the Arc of Light meant. The conduit that had allowed the Phoenix of Balance to live again through her. She felt its power like never before, like a friend she had always known, and she felt her own. She could stop searching for answers now. She knew who she truly was, and she had just stepped into her power as an ancient celestial.
The Primeval Light was not only the power of purity, but it was also the power of life. And she could give it to Cedric. She could grant him a second life.
But she would have to give her own, for this light was only meant to be borne by one being.
Ahna closed her eyes. She was ready now. The light around her gathered into her wings. It moved through her body into the hand that touched the void dragon. She would give him that chance to live again.
Ahna had lived many lives, from Dwellunder refugee, to farmer, to rebel. She had been a daughter, a sister, a friend. She had known the meaning of love, twice. She had understood the meaning and lessons of wisdom. The eyes of an old friend appeared before hers, welcoming her in the Heavens. Brother Gideon’s voice called to her, saying she had a place among him and everyone else there. Ahna could accept her fate. She was at peace with the idea of the end. Because the end was just the beginning of something new. She could die here, and it would all be just fine.
Her heart went out to Jules, wishing him the best life possible because he deserved it more than most. She wished for Luthan to be happy again, without her. She wanted Cayne to become the leader she was meant to be, to carry her family’s legacy and honor it until the end. And most of all, she wished for Bravoure to become the beacon of hope it had once been and could be again, forever.
When she opened her eyes, the black dragon that had stood before her had turned into a magnificent beast of black and white feathers. His long neck arched like a swan’s, and his maw was more like a golden eagle’s beak. Two horns of silver coiled and pointed to the sky. His eyes were bluer than oceans, and his wings stretched further than she could see. Ahna still touched him. His soft and delicate feathers felt warm. He was alive. Cedric was alive, and this was his true form. The Child of Guan. The dome of darkness slowly evaporated like it had never existed, and the sun descended upon the golden city. Ahna glowed. This was her sign. She could go now.
She had closed her eyes when a hand took hers. It made her turn around. Ahna opened her eyes, puzzled by who had taken her hand. She was still in the pool of light, but everything was frozen in place. Time stood still. There was no sound. She saw no one, but she felt a presence. Actually, she felt multiple presences. A beam of golden light descended upon her, and she heard their voices. Ahna gasped when she realized who spoke to her.
“Do you really think you can quit now?” Kairen asked. It was Kairen, Ahna was sure. It was her voice, her tone, Ahna could even feel Kairen’s copper eyes fixated on her. “Do you really think the Heavens will allow you to?”
“We said you were welcome here,” David said. “But not now! Not when Bravoure finally has the chance to be what it was meant to be.”
Ahna looked left and right to search for them. She could not see them, but she could hear their voices. She felt so relieved and so hopeless at the same time.
“Kairen...David...I...” she stuttered. “I can’t see you.”
“That’s normal, Ahna,” Kairen soothed. “We’re not here anymore. But you are. So you’d better make the best of it.” Her tone was fierce but encouraging, just like always.
Tears clouded Ahna’s vision. She was unsure whether this was even real. Maybe it was all in her head, like a near-death vision one gets before slipping away. But it felt real.
“We’re counting on you,” David cheered. “And don’t worry about Cayne. Our beautiful girl made it here.”
Ahna’s heart skipped a beat. “Cayne’s…” She could not finish her sentence because David’s words could only mean one thing.
“She’s with us, Ahna,” Kairen exclaimed. Her voice was not stained by sadness or regret, only pure happiness. “Cayne had the blood of heroes and the soul of an angel. Of course, she’s here!”
The joy was contagious. Ahna, as unbelievable as the situation was, burst out laughing. Their voices sounded so close and yet so far. She wanted to reach out to them. “I don’t know what to say...” she murmured. Even with the news of Cayne’s passing, she still felt peace, because Cayne was exactly where she deserved to be.
“Don’t say anything,” Kairen said. “The gods are willing to give you a chance at peace, so take it. Don’t come knocking on Heaven’s door when your duty still lies here, on Terra.”
Ahna closed her eyes, focusing on Kairen’s voice, remembering she had lost her and would never see her again. “I’m so sorry, Kairen.”
“Stop it! Stop being sorry!”
“I left you.” A tear ran down Ahna’s cheek. It instantly evaporated in the golden light. “You had to fight this without me.” By this, she meant what Bravoure had become.
It was as though Kairen’s hands had cupped her face. She felt her warm embrace like the red-haired woman was right there.
“Stop blaming yourself. I had a great life, Ahna,” Kairen said. “Despite everything, I lived well. I was loved. You deserve that too.” She paused before speaking her last words: “You still have so much to learn, big sister. Come to me once you have seen it all.”
Ahna took a deep breath, touching
her cheek like she touched Kairen’s hand. She could not see her, and she still was unsure whether any of this was real, but she chose to believe so. And that belief immersed her in happiness, knowing Kairen, David, and Cayne were okay, somewhere in the Domain of Stars. The last voice she heard, a distant whisper, was in a familiar voice. Not theirs, but someone else from her past. Even in death dóttr mi, I’m always with you. The golden light faded, and Ahna landed on the ground, facing the phoenix-dragon.
* * *
His feathers turned to light and ashes that drifted off in the wind. In their place was a man from a different time. He stood among the ruins of the capital, bare, his eyes fixed on the elf with crystal wings. What a sight...she stood right in front of him, right in his reach. Their eyes met, and her mouth opened slightly. Was it relief or disbelief she felt?
The light that had come from her power had merged with the light of Sol. Her wings dissipated like a mirage. She no longer needed that power. It had been part of her, of who she was, but now, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Ahna heard the voice one last time.
“Be safe,” it said. “Goodbye.”
It left her with a feeling of completeness. When her gaze landed on the man before her, Ahna reached out to him. What she felt when looking at him was mixed with a motherlike stroke. It lingered for a little while, even after the remnant of Balance had left her.
Ahna touched his chest, feeling his skin underneath her fingertips. He was there. He was warm and alive.
Glyphs of an ancient tongue appeared and swirled on her arm. In the palm of her hand gathered the last piece of the Arc of Light. It grew and stretched into the contours of an adorned bow. Ahna handed it to the man. He accepted it, still looking at her, lost in her purple eyes.
“I think this belongs to you,” she said and collapsed.
Cedric let the bow fall to the ground to catch Ahna in her fall. He held her close, pressed her against his chest. She was still breathing, but she had lost consciousness.
Cedric looked around him and ahead. The sun shone bright, but the city was in ruins. He had no idea what had happened, but he recognized the man that walked up to him. Jules. And Jules had tears drowning his eyes. He fell to his knees, unbelieving. His captain was alive. Ahna had succeeded. But at what cost? Was she dead?
Jules crawled to check on Ahna. There was still a pulse. He buried his face and let the tears of relief flow freely.
Luthan did not recognize the man who held his wife. He could barely stand, but he managed to stagger to them. He wanted to make sure she was alive. He wanted to hold her instead of this stranger that had destroyed the city. Luthan was stopped when he noticed how Jules looked at the man. How Jules let him hold his wife like she was safer there. Luthan fell to the ground, completely drained. One last thought occupied his mind. It should be me holding her.
21
Anew
Jules sat on a stool in a chamber underneath the cathedral’s nave. The room made of stones was only lit by the flicker of a single torch. There was an altar blanketed by a soft pelt of Gurdal yak fur. This was a prayer room—the one they used to pray for the dead. Luky rested on the altar. He was silent. His paws were crossed over his chest. His wounds had stopped bleeding as his heart had stopped beating.
Elbows planted on his lap, Jules plunged his face into his hands, overwhelmed by everything that had happened. Outside, the sun shone bright, but the darkness of the room is where Jules had sought shelter. The city was in ruins. He had immediately sent a troop of medics and clerics into the streets to find survivors, wounded civilians, refugees. The other Wolf Pack leaders were currently at the Castle of Gold, overseeing and planning what they would next do to repair the capital.
As joyful as Jules felt that they had won the battle, against the crazed general and against the undead tide, his heart still ached from the loss. He needed peace and quiet, which he found here, by Luky, in a prayer room.
Ahna was in the cathedral’s infirmary. She had been unconscious for a few days now. The clerics said not to worry and that she would wake once she had regained enough strength. Jules wanted to be by her side but knew it would not be much use. Plus, Luthan and Thamias had already taken up the task of watching over her. Cedric, on the other hand, the revenant, the impossible man, had secluded himself to a chapel outside the city. He and Jules had barely spoken. Jules was unsure how he felt about that.
The sindur catling looked so peaceful, as though he was sleeping. It brought warmth to Jules’s heart to look at him because the cub’s chest slowly heaved. It was almost imperceptible.
They were not alone in the chamber. Sister Mi Lah was with them. She wore a long white gown with a delicate hood over her head. She was a Guan cleric, and as a sindur herself, she also understood her race’s physiology. Mi Lah had revealed something to Jules that had healed all his wounds.
Luky was alive. It was unbelievable, inexplicable, but the little boy-lynx had put himself in a stasis trance. How he had done that at such a young age was simply unknown to Mi Lah. His wounds would not worsen, but there was one problem. No matter the prayer or blessing, Luky could not be healed. Mi Lah came to sit beside Jules, a soft and furry hand on his shoulder. She could feel his pain. Scars of war dug deep into this young man’s skin. Jules needed a break, some well-deserved rest, but it was unknown whether Luky would ever wake. Jules could not sleep until he was sure.
Days passed, and Jules returned to Luky every night. He watched over him as Luthan watched over Ahna. Sometimes, Berius would be with him, and they would try to mourn together. Try, because they had no idea whether they should.
One night, when Sister Mi Lah joined the two heroes, she gasped. They had not noticed how Luky’s fur had begun to sparkle. It looked unreal, almost magical.
"It can't be..." Mi Lah murmured.
“What’s happening?” Jules asked as he instantly rose to his feet.
She rounded her wide blue eyes in utter surprise. “It is the Koth’enok.”
Both Jules and Berius had no idea what she was talking about.
“A sindur ritual,” she explained. “The ritual of regeneration.”
Luky’s fur glowed. It was like warmth and peace radiated from him in dim yellow light. He appeared to be fading with the light into the air. The shimmer became brighter and brighter, until Jules and Berius could no longer look.
As the light became shadow, Jules took one daring glance. He gasped in turn when he saw that, instead of Luky’s sleeping body, he looked to a small and wriggling kitten with closed eyes. The little creature meowed and yowled in tiny squeaks. Sister Mi Lah immediately went to fetch a linen blanket and wrapped it around the kitten, holding him in her arms, cradling him. Jules looked at the kitten with the sole wish to hold him. When Mi Lah finally placed Luky in his arms, Jules looked at him, smiling. Warm butterflies filled his heart and stomach and made him laugh. An instinct led him to cup Luky in his embrace and rock him gently. Berius came closer, wrapping an arm around the soldier he had seduced, who now only had eyes for the newborn cub.
“This hasn’t been seen in centuries,” Sister Mi Lah said. “A tenth life isn’t easily granted to us. This one must have a very special fate.”
“He does,” Jules said with a silly smile. He brought his finger to caress the little one’s nose. Luky’s eyes were barely open, and he waved his paws around like he was searching for something. “You are so special, Councilor,” Jules whispered to the kitten.
Jules, a man of war whose life had always been defined by being on the run, was drenched in a feeling of peace. Because as he held the sindur cub, something in him unclenched. The thrill of the chase, of adventure, of battles, war—all of this was no longer necessary. Jules finally knew that he had found his purpose, and it resided in the yellow eyes of this baby sindur, whom he would cherish and love for the rest of his life.
* * *
Bright sun rays rained into the throne room in the Castle of Gold. Bravan soldiers were outs
ide, clearing the courtyard, partnering with workers to rebuild the castle. In the streets, many more had gathered in efforts to restore the city. Every survivor who could still wield a hammer would not rest before their home would be brought back to what it once had been. Magi from the Academy assisted with the reconstruction of the tallest buildings. Even those who had never taken arms or wielded a shovel found something to do.
A new day dawned over the kingdom of Bravoure. The general had already become a mere memory, a brief wound that could quickly heal. His soldiers, realizing Corax’s sin of allying with the undead, had bowed and begged for forgiveness at the Wolf Pack’s feet. People were free. There was no more curfew, no more City Watch, no more dokkalfar ban. Bravoure would eventually even help Iskala rebuild and grant the land of nomads her independence at last. But Bravoure had also suffered greatly, and the loss of Cayne Falco was one that would scar the kingdom forever.
Azera Condor gave a speech to the people, igniting hopes in their hearts that Bravoure would become the beacon of unity it deserved to be. Bravoure now had the chance to repent and not make the same mistakes again. But her hopeful words were not enough for herself. Her pain and failure weighed too heavy on her shoulders. Losing Cayne had taken its toll on her, the last she could take. After her encouraging words to the people of her home, Azera chose to step down as Monarch of Bravoure.
Cayne Falco, the emblem of a leader, a warrior, and a friend, would forever be remembered. A memorial was erected in her name, right by the gates of the Castle of Gold, a statue of her wielding a sword and ready for battle. Her perfect mirror image.
The question of a new military leader came about. Maybe it could be Jules Halcyon, though he first had a baby sindur to take care of, or one of the clan leaders. The Bravan Army needed someone with a firm but compassionate hand. When the time would come, the soldiers would choose who would stand before them and guide them. Someone brave and strong. Someone who could wield the Royal Claymore…
Tempest of Bravoure Page 29
