by Meg Anne
Standing she turned in a slow circle.
Alina clapped with delight, “I can’t think of a lady who has ever looked more beautiful,” she whispered in awe, her smile lighting up her entire face.
Helena’s lips twisted in a wry smile, “Liar, I see one standing before me.”
The girl blushed in pleasure but waved away the compliment.
With a breath that was equal parts sigh and groan, Helena turned towards the door. “I suppose I have to go down there now. Time to get this over with, one way or the other.”
Alina reached her hand towards her mistress, tentatively lest Helena should refuse her. Sensing no rebuke, she squeezed her shoulder infusing her gentle warmth and belief. “You will be amazing, Damaskiri. There is no question.”
Feeling the soothing magic woven into the words, Helena couldn’t help but smile. She was still learning much about magic, and the depths of her own vastly outweighed her maid’s, but it was the intention behind the action that allowed Helena to wrap the girl’s conviction around her.
With a last smile, albeit strained and lopsided, Helena moved out of the room and fell into formation with her Circle which had been waiting outside.
She could sense the current of their emotions around her, a heady mix of anticipation, confidence, and pride. Her Circle was more sure of her success than she was, but then again, they weren’t the ones who had just discovered who they were mere weeks ago.
She felt, rather than saw, Darrin move closer to her. It was an unconscious display of support and protection, and she appreciated the gesture even if he didn’t realize he had offered one.
The group took a hallway winding down into the deeper levels of the Spirit Wing where the ceremony chambers were located. Having grown used to the roar of the crowds during the Festival, the relative quiet of their steps was daunting. None but the Circle were allowed into the antechamber of the trial room, and only the Damaskiri was allowed through the gold door at the end of the room.
The decorations were more muted down here, the overall mood more austere and intimidating than warm or comforting. Following a dark purple rug into the antechamber, the group stopped. Helena turned to face her Circle, meeting each man’s eyes briefly, attempting to communicate her appreciation for each of them in those few seconds.
There were no rituals to follow at this point, no ceremonial words to say. All that was left was for Helena to take the few remaining steps into the golden room and through the door. She opened her mouth as though to say something, but couldn’t find any words. So instead she closed it and shrugged with a small smile. The men smiled encouragingly in return.
Turning from them she took the last few steps on her own and with a deep breath reached for the golden door. It was warm to the touch and surprisingly light for its size. Without a sound, it opened in, and she stepped through.
At first, there was only silence and mist; she could not see farther than an arm’s length in front of her. Behind her, the door had vanished. She felt the familiar tingle of her magic being called to the surface, even though she had not beckoned it.
As her magic continued to flow, the tingle turned into a burn. She would have thought she was having trouble breathing, but she had not drawn a breath since entering the chamber. In fact, she couldn’t feel her heart beating at all. The thought frightened her momentarily, but the drawing of her power had consumed her attention. It was all she could do to focus on keeping herself together.
“Ah, there you are,” a voice whispered. It sounded as though someone was standing behind her speaking directly into her ear, but there was no one there.
The hair on her arms and neck rose in response.
“We have been waiting for you,” it continued, although now it sounded like multiple voices speaking at once.
Her head began to pound at the intensity and amount of power flowing through her.
“The trial of a Damaskiri forces her to face her innermost self,” the voice, singular and distinctly male continued.
“The darkest parts of self and its most hidden fears and desires,” another component, discernibly female, took up where it had left off.
“It is your response to these parts of yourself that will reveal both the purity of your magic and your wholeness of self; a true Kiri requires both. The trial begins.”
The last echoed around her as the mist swirled and revealed a bed with two bodies moving against one another. Eyes grew round as she realized what she was seeing.
Head thrown back in a carnal growl, Von turned to look at her, never stopping his thrusts. Her body responding to the image, she took a step forward.
A flash of blonde hair caught her eye and Helena looked past Von to see the woman below him. It wasn’t her. As her eyes, mirroring her pain and confusion met his, he laughed - a deep growling thunder that swelled throughout the room.
“Come join us, woman, perhaps you will learn something,” he purred before giving her a feral grin and looking back to the woman arching up to meet his increasing thrusts.
Betrayal lashed at her like a knife, and she felt her fury wrap around her like an icy blanket. She felt herself snarl, and within her, the pool rippled.
Before she could act, the scene in front of her changed. She was now in the halls of the Palace, holding court over her people, every face reflecting their disappointment in her. The people murmured with distrust and unease. She watched her Circle turn their backs on her and walk towards the back of the room. She wanted to call out and run to them, but she was rooted to the spot. She did not know what she had done, only that she had failed miserably; her magic continued to twist and rise its way up and out of the deepest recesses within.
Now she was in the gardens of the Palace, but the sky was dark and the air filled with the acrid smell of smoke. Helena coughed and spun around in confusion, the intensity of the emotions evoked by the previous scenes still swirling within her and only adding to her disorientation.
The towers of the Palace were crumbling, and she could see the remains of fire blazing throughout the courtyard. Where there had once been rows upon rows of the flowers she had loved to get lost in; now there were only charred almost skeletal remains standing in their stead. Eyes flicking down, she saw that the ground below her was covered in seared and bloody bodies, or at least what was left of them.
Gasping, she dropped down to help them, and as she turned them over, she began to recognize faces. One after the other: Timmins, Joquil, Alina, Micha, Amos, Darrin… all those that she had come to love.
Body trembling, she stood and looked at her robe, now splattered in blood and ash; the warm liquid dripping down her fingers and onto Darrin’s lifeless face. His blank eyes staring up at her unseeing. Beside him Micha’s head began to turn, the one eye remaining in its socket, blinking while the bloody mouth gurgled as it tried unsuccessfully to speak.
An anguished scream tore through her throat, and an answering bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree, her magic’s outward sign of its response to her terror. The still smoking branches shuddered, unable to withstand the additional assault. With a deafening crack, the tree was rent in two, one-half falling towards the pile of bodies below. The unearthly scream continued while her magic’s answering storm rolled through the sky, its fury wreaking havoc on what was left of the land.
She knew with complete certainty that she was the one that had slain these people.
Shaking she tried to move away, but the corpses began to grab her feet, moaning wetly in their attempt to pull her down. In fear, she felt her magic lash out, and the body that had grabbed her exploded, raining warm pieces of flesh upon her. It was Kragen.
“No!” she screamed again, tears falling from her eyes, blinding her. She was completely shaken, overwhelmed by the emotions within her: rage, shame, and anguish vying for her attention and calling her to action.
One by one the images flickered through her mind, Von laughing remorseless at his betrayal, the backs of the men as they left her, an
d Darrin’s face twisted in the agony of his death.
Sobbing she fell to her knees. Around her, the wind rose whipping her hair around. Thunder growled in the sky, echoing her own screams. Within, she felt the depth of her magic swirl through the pool as she pulled it to her, and released it. Her back arched at the intensity of the release and she felt herself come undone.
There was silence, the scene before her replaced again with silvery mist. She felt as though her body had no shape; she merely floated within the mist.
Eventually, the sound of Von’s laughter brought her back to herself. Panting she knelt on the ground; her forehead pressed into her one raised knee. Afraid to open her eyes, lest she sees more bodies or something even more terrible, Helena did not move.
“These events will come to pass, if you do not trust,” The voice of many whispered.
She jolted to awareness, spine stiffening as though waiting for an assault.
“The eyes can see what the heart knows to be false. If you do not trust in yourself to know the difference, you will be lost,” the female voice continued. The ends of her hair fluttered, as though a hand had run through them.
“He is you, and you are he. A betrayal of your bond can only occur if you do not trust,” the last words whipped against her.
“A Kiri knows herself, the shadows and the light. To fear the shadow is to betray the light. Recognize the potential for destruction, but do not fear it and it shall not pass.” The whisper faded away, leaving her.
Confused and trembling Helena stood. Was she done? How did that test her? She felt as though it had only tormented her. And then she knew.
Her test was to see if she could withstand the worst of herself. She was shown, in the most literal sense, what it would mean if she doubted not only her power but her bond with her Mate. It all came down to that; it had always been about that. That was why it was such an integral part of the ceremony; he was the other part of her, and she had to fully accept and understand both.
To let that bond unravel would lead to a destruction of her people, the fulfillment of the prophecy so many had tried to circumvent. And in her uncertainty, she would be the source of their downfall. No matter what they would have done with her as a child, the end result would have been the same; it would always have come to the same end.
The door behind her opened. Muscles quaking in protest she turned towards the light filtering through it. She did not know how long she had been in the chamber; her sense of time was utterly gone.
She walked through the door back to the four men that had waited for her. As one they fell to their knees in fear and awe.
“It is done,” said the layered voice that had whispered to her in the chamber, her magic’s voice.
Helena stood in the doorway, her robe and skin still covered in blood and soot. Her hair tumbled down her back and shoulders in a riot of waves and her eyes iridescent and unfocused, their swirling depths seeming to hypnotize and see straight through to one’s soul.
She opened her hand, and the pendent of the Mother dangled from her fingers, the simple knot in the center replaced with an egg sized stone the same iridescent smoke of her eyes. As the men recognized the Kiri’s pendant, Helena’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed.
Chapter Seven
Von heard the scream, its intensity and pain tearing through his body.
“Helena!” he shouted, coming to attention and reaching for the sword at his hips.
He looked around warily, eyes narrowed and trying to identify the threat. He crossed the room swiftly, feet silent as he made his way to the door.
Sensing nothing, he opened the door and peered outside. A servant was scurrying by with her arms full of fabric. Today’s washing, he guessed. She halted a few steps past him and turned, “Did you need something?”
He shook his head, and she continued down the hallway. After another few moments, he allowed his body to relax. Von could have sworn he’d heard Helena screaming, but if the Damaskiri was in trouble, the entire Palace would be in an uproar.
Releasing his sword, he brought his hand to his jaw and rubbed the day’s beard thoughtfully.
Magic had always made him uneasy, his own source of power lending itself predominantly to his skills on the battlefield. He had never been quick to accept things that he did not understand or could not explain. This fit neatly into both categories. He caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and went to grab for the sword again when he realized it was still in his hand.
His body was trembling like a green boy. Magic he thought with a curse. Von knew he would not be able to relax fully until he had personally guaranteed her safety, and not just with his eyes. He was going to make damned sure that she was unharmed, and the Mother help the poor bastards that tried to stop him. Since he was all but the final member of the Circle he decided to go find Helena’s guards, and demand to see her. He wanted to hold her. Von’s steps faltered as he realized it was not merely want, but a bone-deep need to feel her safely in his arms. He took a shuddering breath to steady himself before resuming his ground eating strides down the hall. He moved quickly, ignoring the curious stares he was drawing.
As he rounded the last corner, he saw the men he had been searching for walking towards him. They moved tentatively, Timmins and Joquil turning to look behind them often. There was a mix of emotions playing over the men’s faces, but concern most prevalent among them.
Before he could open his mouth to greet them, they shifted in formation and he was able to see the other two. The first thing he noted was the panic etched in Darrin’s face. Following the man’s gaze, Von’s eyes were drawn to the woman being carried in Kragen’s arms.
Her limbs dangled lifelessly over his arms, her head lolled back and allowed her hair to all but graze the floor.
In seconds he had reached them, his body on full alert and his senses primed with magic.
“Isn’t your job to ensure her protection,” he snapped, his voice low and deadly.
Timmins visibly flinched at the waves of danger he felt rolling off Von. He held his hands up and spoke softly, each word carefully measured. “We could not have anticipated this result, nor are we to blame for her collapse.”
Not even remotely mollified, Von continued to scowl at the older man.
Darrin moved to speak, taking his eyes off of Helena only briefly. “She entered the door for her trial; hours had passed with nary a sound. When they opened…” he seemed to stumble over his words and Von could tell how the sight had affected him.
Kragen’s deep rumble took up the story, “She was covered in blood. Before we could so much as blink she was falling to the floor. From what we can tell, she is unharmed, but the drain on her magic was too much for her.”
“She is unharmed, but covered in blood?” Von asked, his lips curling in disbelief and eyes narrowed in censure. “Whose blood is it then?” his voice still lethally soft.
“We do not know, my lord,” Timmins shrugged helplessly.
“Before she collapsed, she showed us this,” Joquil was holding out the pendant, a silver light emanating from the stone.
Von felt his body stiffen at the sight. So she has passed, why then has she collapsed? He wondered. Ignoring his reaction, he continued, “You said you hadn’t heard anything, but I could hear her scream from my room.” The statement was an accusation.
Timmins shrugged again. “I cannot do much but speculate until she awakens and we speak with her, however, if I had to guess it would seem that the bond the two of you have already begun to cultivate has allowed you to stay connected to her during her trial.
“The books on the Damaskiri trial have always been unfailingly vague. We could not have anticipated that behind those doors she was doing anything other than meditating. We heard nothing,” he emphasized.
Von frowned at the old man’s words. Had he been connected to her? He knew that he had heard her, and he knew that he had not imagined the pain and terror in her scream.
He looked back at Kragen, “I will take her.”
The warrior gazed back at him steadily, before inclining his head in agreement.
“The hell you will!” snapped Darrin, eyes wounded but fierce. “We are her Circle, you sir, have not yet spoken the vows that will bind you to her. You have no right,” his voice shook with emotion, “no right to touch her.”
“Darrin,” Timmins said softly, quiet rebuke in the word.
“The Kiri has already chosen her mate, Shield,” Joquil said firmly, his face void of expression. “Even you cannot stand in the way of that.”
Von let the men speak, but Darrin would not move from in front of Kragen, and with Helena still limp in his arms Von wouldn’t risk hurting her by ramming Darrin out of the way.
“Boy,” Von sneered, with thinly veiled disdain, “stand down. You have already failed her once today, do not do so again.”
The blonde man flinched at the accusation but moved mutely to the side. Kragen stepped forward and set Helena with surprising gentleness into Von’s arms.
Von allowed his gaze to sweep over the girl in his arms. Her usually luminous skin was waxy and purplish bruises were in sharp contrast to her eyes. He tried to dispassionately note the blood that covered her, used to seeing such scenes after his own battles. The blood itself did not bother him, it was the sheer amount of it, and that it covered her.
He felt a sharp tug in his chest at the sight and immediately snapped his eyes up before he could allow himself to be distracted by his emotions. He turned back the way he had come and started climbing the spiraling stairways as quickly as possible without jarring Helena.
“Joquil,” he called over his shoulder, “Perhaps you should do something to ensure we do not draw unwanted attention to ourselves.”
The man nodded in agreement, and Von felt the familiar tingle of magic race down his neck as Joquil began warding the passageway. His sensitivity to the use of magic was one of the most helpful skills he had acquired through his years of traveling and warring. It usually meant the difference between the life and death of his men and would signal a potential threat long before one materialized.
