by Kova, Elise
“Is that… a man?” Jayme squinted. Time and age had taken its toll on the statue and it was impossible to tell. “Wearing a crown?”
“I think so?” Vi tilted her head, trying to imagine what the statue might have looked like when it was first made. There was something masculine about the figure… yet it also had a litheness that read as feminine. Androgynous, would be a better term. “Wearing a crown? I didn’t think chieftains wore crowns?”
“We don’t.” Ellene frowned slightly. She seemed disturbed by the sculpture. “And what’s he holding in his other hand?”
“Some kind of blade?” Vi wondered aloud. It was curved but half-broken. She couldn’t tell from the blunted end alone what it may have been originally.
“He has a sword on his hip, though,” Jayme pointed out.
“Maybe he was some kind of warrior?”
“Dia would kneel to no warrior,” Ellene insisted. “She would only kneel to the Mother.”
“Perhaps it’s not Dia,” Vi suggested, more out of kindness. The woman was holding an axe, and nearly in the same pose as the sculpture of Dia in Soricium. It seemed too similar to be mere chance.
“Maybe not…” Ellene was seeing what she wanted to see. But there was no use in pointing that out.
“Perhaps he’s a warrior for whoever this is…” Andru’s focus had wandered to the wall behind the statue. Whatever he saw had him entranced enough that he’d wandered away from the halo of light.
Vi, Ellene, and Jayme joined him. With a mental command, Vi had the fire lift above her head, illuminating another relief on the wall.
It was massive in scale, the figures easily four times life-sized. A man and a woman were locked in combat. The woman had a blazing sun behind her and she pointed a staff at the man. The man was angular and sharp-looking, wings of lightning crackled behind him. Soundless cries of battle had been cast on their stone faces, resisting the wear of time in an impossible way.
“I would think it’s the Mother and Father but…” Andru trailed off.
But they’re fighting, Vi finished mentally. The Mother and Father were said to be in an eternal dance, hand in hand, forever with each other throughout the ages as one watched over day and the other night. The crones of the Empire said they were lovers, not enemies… And that’s what Vi would’ve believed before Taavin had told her his truths. Now, she saw it and knew she was laying eyes on a great battle.
This was the truth of their world. An ancient good—Yargen—pitted against an ancient evil—Raspian. They were all mortal pawns laid between them, cast in stone at the gods’ feet.
The Solaris Empire and its people had been so far removed from this great struggle that they didn’t even see its impact on their lives.
“It’s likely also something else.” Vi shrugged. She might know better, but her friends didn’t and there was no way she could explain otherwise. Just looking at the image was making her uncomfortable. It was as if she was looking at something she was never meant to see. “Who knows what this place really was, or who even built it.”
“Maybe your vision will give us insight?” Ellene suggested.
“Right. I’ll need to use my flame for it… if it goes out when I’m finished, it may be dark for a moment.”
“I think we can survive the dark.” Jayme readjusted her stance, stalwart as usual.
“All right, then.” Vi closed her eyes and held out her hand. Like a bird, her flame perched in her palm. She felt as much as saw the orb of light moving on the other side of her eyelids. When Vi opened her eyes, she prepared herself to be thrown into the vision.
This time, she wasn’t disappointed.
Once more, the world was over-saturated with white. Slowly, by the brush of an invisible artist, color returned, filling in shapes and lines that were as foreign as the last time. As she was coming to learn was normal, there was no sound filling the cavernous room she stood in.
Taavin knelt before her in stunning clarity.
For a brief moment, Vi merely studied his face: immobile, focused, sharp. Sharper than she’d ever seen it before. He looked real, almost like something she could reach out and touch…
Her hands were frozen in place, and Vi was forced to be nothing more than the observer she’d always been during her visions.
His expression was somber. He stared forward, seeing through her, but Vi felt as if he could actually see her. His shaggy hair had been pushed back from his face and set. It was the first time she’d seen it not spilling over his brow, curling around the pointed tips of elongated ears.
The light of a fire blazing behind her, glowing through her disembodied spirit, cast his cheeks in oranges and yellows. His mouth was moving quickly, though the words were lost on her deaf ears, and Vi got the distinct feeling that she was watching another ritual unfold. Light peeled off his skin, spinning around his form, condensing over his hands as he continued to chant.
Taavin’s hands were folded together, holding something. A silver chain looped around them, dangling and catching the firelight. She could recognize those links anywhere. They were identical to the chain she wore around her neck.
A shadow moved in the background.
Inexplicable dread filled her and Vi fought the urge to shut her eyes. She didn’t want to see this. Somehow, she knew what was coming with a sickening certainty.
No, don’t do this.
The words drifted through her, soft as a whisper, heartbreaking as a scream.
The man continued to chant, continued to stare at the flame at her back that Vi couldn’t see. All she wanted to focus on was him and the steadily intensifying light peeling off his flesh. The world was reduced to his magic as it mingled with the bright white power that always hovered at the edges of her visions.
In the background, there was more movement. Vi squinted. She could see a figure nearing, but the darkness of the room had become so intense that it was impossible for her to make out who the person was.
A pair of feminine hands rested themselves on his shoulders. Light wrapping around them as well. The glyphs of the two sorcerers bounced and sparked off each other in the air before they merged. One spell, two casters; without even seeing the person’s face, Vi knew the stranger was reciting the chant in unison with Taavin. Just as she knew that soon, it would all be over.
The glyphs brightened and spun to their breaking point, shattering in a blaze. She watched Taavin’s head tilt back, mouth open in a soundless scream, as fire arced forward—through Vi herself—and onto him. He was immolated as the glyphs brightened to strands of pure light that wrapped tightly around him.
Vi bit back a cry of anguish as the world turned white. She kept her eyes on his face for as long as possible, watching as flames cracked through his skin, charring it instantly to ash. It was a horror she did not want to see, but she refused to turn away. She would see every detail up until the end.
She hadn’t made a sound this time when her vision ended, it seemed, nor had she fallen. Vi spun in place, looking for her mysterious ally. Panic set her heart to racing, as if somehow he could’ve already been lost to her.
What did she say to him? How could she tell him? Panic rose in her. She had to protect him.
“Hoolo!” Taavin’s voice rang through the darkness, ceasing all thoughts with the single word. It curled between her ears, taking residence in her mind with all the rightness of the world. “Vi, Yargen has spoken! She’s given you a word!”
Vi turned, looking for Taavin. But she did not find him. Instead, she saw a pair of glowing red eyes cutting through the darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“You see her visions. One of the Dark Isle is truly Yargen’s champion,” the man with the red eyes spoke. “How the mighty fall…”
“Stay back,” Vi commanded, scrambling to her feet. She held out her hand, fire igniting across her fingers. “Or I’ll—”
She never had the chance to finish her threat.
The man moved so quickly that he becam
e one with the shadows themselves. He was in one place, and then in a blink he was before her. Red magic sparked off his shoulders, casting the relief sculpture on the wall of the battle between the gods in a bloody glow. He held up a hand, a red circle forming around his palms, and brought it down to her.
“No!” Ellene cried.
Suddenly a column of stone emerged from the ground at Vi’s feet. The side of her foot caught its edge and was pushed upward. As she slid off, she lost her balance, staggering and hopping from foot to foot. Her fire was extinguished and the only light was from the man’s red irises.
“This doesn’t concern you, child,” he growled from the other side of the column. Vi was quickly scrambling to her feet, heading opposite of where Ellene stood; she had to draw his attention away from her friends. “But that won’t stop me from killing you.”
Vi held out her hand. Strands of magic were already collecting, illuminating the room.
“Juth!”
Vi felt her magic split and the glyph took shape. The swirling circles curled around him, a smaller replica before her palm. It happened in a single breath, but Vi felt every shift and change in her powers. She had never been so utterly confident wielding magic before. There was not an ounce of fear at losing control; every inch of her will was woven into the carefully crafted glyph.
The only person that should be afraid was the man she was levying it against.
The elfin’ra spun, raising his hands upward, as though her circle had become ropes around his arms that he was breaking with muscle alone. But this wasn’t a physical resistance. His magic pushed against Vi’s, and they shattered together in an explosion of flame and red lightning.
Fearlessly, Jayme dove in with a shout.
She leapt through the fire and sparking magic, sword in hand, elbows tight to her, point tracked over the man’s chest. She lunged, and the sword point almost hit. But the man, or whatever he was, was too fast and well trained. He brought up a hand, as if batting the sword away with a shield. The magic that arced from his middle finger to twist around his pinkie to form the half-shield was hotter than any blacksmith’s tool.
It seared off the edge of Jayme’s blade and cast the woman off-balance. Vi could see her eyes, bulging in shock, outlined by the glowing red stump of her sword.
“You think that could harm me?” The man laughed. “You worthless girl, you do not even have magic, not even an element of Yargen’s precious, splintered boon on this Dark Isle.”
Luckily, Ellene was not so distracted. A box of stone rose up around the man. It stretched in a blink up to the ceiling, trapping him in a column of rock.
“Let’s go, now!” Ellene shouted.
Jayme had recovered and was on her feet, sheathing her now useless sword. Vi started to move, but then looked around. Where had Andru gone in all the chaos?
Her eyes landed on him, huddled in the corner by the statue, looking between Vi and the stone box trapping the elfin’ra in. Vi sprinted over and linked her arms around him. “We have to go.”
“What’s going on?” He jerked away, eyes wide. They were fearful… of her. These were the eyes she’d expected from the Southerners. So why did they hurt?
“We have to go!” Vi ignored the sensation. “Get to the noru, get away.” She ran around behind him, pushing the small of his back. Andru finally spurred into motion and Vi wasted no more time behind him.
A surge of magic had her skidding to a stop.
“Vi, come on!” Ellene shouted.
He was about to break free. She could feel it before she saw the red cracks in the stone or felt the rumbling. Even if they ran, they wouldn’t get very far. The elfin’ra was faster than lightning and more powerful than all three of them combined. They had to fight here, or they would die running.
Her mind cycled through all the words she knew. She repeated everything Taavin had ever told her on how to string them together. Every lesson they had stolen with each other would have to pay off now.
“You three go ahead.”
“I’m not leaving you. I am your guard and—” Jayme started an objection that Vi would have none of.
“That is an order from your Crown Princess!” Vi shouted. Jayme stared at her, shocked. “I know what I’m doing.” She hoped.
“Fine. Andru, Ellene—”
“No, we’re fighting with Vi,” Ellene insisted. Andru looked less than certain at the notion, but said nothing.
“You three need to go now!” Vi looked between them and the column of stone frantically.
“She seems to have a handle on this.” Jayme pushed on Andru and yanked on Ellene.
“I don’t—” Ellene never finished. Vi watched as Jayme hoisted the girl into her arms. Her powerful legs bulged against her trousers, arms shifting the bundle of weight. Ellene stared in anger, already beginning to thrash. “I’m not going!”
Vi was distracted with them; Jayme was distracted with Ellene and Ellene with her. Andru used his long legs to get several steps ahead. Her friends were almost out and that meant—
They’d all taken their eyes off the column for far too long.
It exploded outward with molten stone and interconnecting cracks of red lightning.
“Mysst xieh!” Vi screamed, raising her arms. A glyph appeared before her, hasty and half-formed. It withstood the brunt of the blast, but fractured with every bolder and stone that pelted against it. When the shield broke, Vi was cast backward, confetti of rubble pelting her body.
She groaned, rolling onto her stomach. She didn’t want to see the state of her friends… but she had to. Vi heard the scream before she lifted her eyes.
Ellene was on the ground, rolling several feet away from where Jayme lay. Stones scattered off of her shoulders, and small fires that ignited from the molten rock coming into contact with her clothes were snuffed. Vi’s mouth dropped open, trying to find a word. Not a word of power. Not a word to summon her magic.
A word to call out to her chillingly immobile friend.
Jayme was on her side. There was a giant, steaming gash in her back, where a stone had pummeled her spine. Blood poured out from her. Vi had seen hunters bleeding kills… but those were animals. She never thought a person would have so much blood in them.
“No,” Vi whispered.
“Jayme!” Tears were already streaming down Ellene’s cheeks as she half-crawled, half-ran toward their friend. “You idiot!”
“There is no escaping,” the man with the red eyes spoke. “Champion of Yargen, this is your fate.”
“What?” Andru groaned, sitting up as well.
“Return with me to Salvidia, a willing sacrifice, and I will allow your friends to live.”
The body on the altar in her vision. Was this how she got there?
“If you were letting us live you wouldn’t have… you… you wouldn’t have!” Ellene sobbed over Jayme. Her magic was moving on instinct, vines and mosses curling around the prone woman. Vi made note of it. If there was one thing she could—and would need to—count on, it was Ellene’s powers having a mind of their own in times of stress.
“Andru, get to Ellene and Jayme.” Vi pushed herself to her feet, ignoring every fiery pain in her limbs. She didn’t care if the man heard her plot to keep her friends safe. He’d made it clear she was his quarry. But she also didn’t believe for a single moment that he’d let her friends go if she offered herself up as a sacrificial lamb.
“Last chance.” The man unsheathed his dagger once more—no doubt a vessel of sorts to bring her blood back if he could not acquire her whole body.
“Ellene, protect yourself,” Vi ordered simply.
Vi lifted her arm slowly as she heard the groans of stone lifting upward into what she hoped was a protective shell over Ellene and Jayme.
She dipped into the well of power that had always lived in her. It had been her enigma, her bane, as she’d struggled to control it and make sense of it. But now, however limited her knowledge still was, she had the circular pathways to
channel it through. She had the words she’d read over and over in Sehra’s book, locked in her mind.
She had the knowledge Taavin had imparted to her.
“Do you think you can burn me with your pathetic flames?” he sneered.
“I am Vi Solaris. Anything burns if I will it.”
“You are—”
“Juth starys hoolo.” It was the perfect combination. The perfect pronunciation. The words resonated with her magic in a way Vi had never imagined possible and clicked together to form a glyph unlike any she had made before.
The circles spun wider, consuming the whole room. They ran over Ellene’s cocoon of stone and lapped against the walls, white hot, leaving singe marks in their wake. The second the final word finished echoing through the space, her power exploded.
Destruction. Destroy it all. Burn everything and let nothing remain.
Those were the singular thoughts in her mind as Vi watched the world erupt into white flames. Red lightning arced through it, pushing against her power. But unlike every other time she’d evoked juth, the circles did not disappear after the initial explosion. They sustained, burning brighter and hotter with each passing second.
Magic poured from her, filling every nook and cranny of the room with fire. From the outside, the ruins must have looked like a furnace, filled to the brim with coal and burning out of every orifice.
Juth—destruction.
Starys—incinerate.
Hoolo… to hold.
The word had not been in Sehra’s book. Taavin had not had a chance to explain it, yet she knew what it was down to her very core. He’d armed her with the ability to hold, to maintain, to keep her fire burning as long as she needed until everything finally went dark.
It didn’t feel as though the power was even coming from her. This unstoppable magic was pouring from a source Vi had never seen from her own eyes. These flames were not her own, but something far greater.
When the light and fire of juth dimmed, the elfin’ra was gone, and she was left to hope that it was because she had burned him alive.
