The Spirit Heir (Book 2)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  Fire.

  His fire.

  Rhen grinned, showing no hesitation as he stepped through the arch and into the heat, letting the flames lick and burn his skin. Everywhere he looked, fire swarmed, flickering, smoldering. Crackling pops filled his ears and his clothes burned away almost instantly. Even his skin began to sweat.

  Rhen breathed in and pulled.

  The torrent answered his call, funneling under his skin, filling him to the brim with lava, molten in his veins. But still, the fires around him burned strong. So Rhen pulled again. More heat pummeled his body, surging below his skin, not wanting to be contained.

  But when he opened his eyes, there was no change. No pause. The fire was just as strong and just as pervasive. So Rhen did the only other thing he could think of—he walked.

  The tunnel seemed to lead nowhere—either that or Rhen could not see through the flames. They were everywhere, covering everything. Even the white stone had disappeared from sight.

  But he kept pressing forward.

  Not stopping.

  Not pausing.

  Until a small break in the flames hinted at a doorway in the distance.

  He ran—too afraid to think, to hope, to dream of what might be waiting for him at the end. But when he burst through the exit, skin red and sweaty, cool air was all he felt. A white stone room surrounded him, a small entry filled with only a box.

  Rhen lifted the lid, smiling at what lay underneath. Pants and a fresh shirt, crudely woven, but placed there by someone who clearly understood what someone walking through the tunnel would face.

  Next to the box, another archway to another room made of stone.

  Rhen held his breath and walked to the edge. Closing his eyes tight, hardly daring to hope that more than blank stone waited on the other side, he stepped through and opened them.

  Elation surged up his throat, bursting out with a disbelieving shout Rhen couldn't stop. He shook his head, blinking, rubbing his eyes to make sure it wasn't a mirage, pinching himself to make sure it wasn't a dream. And then tears pricked at his eyes, of hope, of amazement, of gratitude.

  A dragon lay still in the center of the room.

  The beast was curled as though asleep, front paws folded neatly below a massive head, forming a pillow. Sharp rocks cut across its forehead, charcoal razors. And the claws—each one seemed the size of Rhen's hand and more deadly than any knife. Deep ebony scales glistened in the light shining down from the open sky, sparkling molten red every time the sun shifted.

  Its wings were huddled around its body, covering it, sheltering it. The exposed bones resembled a sword just pulled from the furnace, molten hot, fiercely golden from heat, filtering back to black toward the tips. And across those bones, a thin, almost translucent, blanket of shadowy skin for wings. The last thing he noticed was the tail, covered in more sharp black rock, perfect for whipping.

  Unable to stop himself, Rhen stepped forward, pulled by forces beyond his control as his fingers slid gently along the inky scales, flashing fiery as they moved beneath his touch.

  But the dragon did not stir, did not wake.

  Was it sleeping?

  Was it alive?

  Rhen walked around to the head, running his fingers over the rocky surface, down the creature's snout, over its sharp teeth, still burning with the haunt of long gone flames. He thought back to the underground castle, the painting on the wall, the rider, and realized that the dragon wasn't dead, it wasn't dreaming—it was waiting.

  Waiting for a new rider.

  Waiting for him.

  Rhen stood tall and stepped back, taking a deep breath before mustering all of his strength to utter two forceful words.

  "I'm here."

  Two slits slid open across the dragon's face, two molten red eyes, burning brighter than flames as they stared at Rhen, examining him, scrutinizing, before closing once more.

  Rhen almost spoke.

  Almost stepped closer.

  But then a tremor passed through the dragon's body, a shiver. Its neck moved, then its body shifted, rising on four legs. Stretching wide, the wings unfurled, filling the entire room. The dragon shook, throwing its head back and forth as it pumped its wings. Fire exploded beneath its skin, bubbling yellow and red, leaving a blazing trail across the air. And then it roared, breathing flames into the sky, letting the sparks rain down upon the room below.

  The very mountain trembled. The earth shook.

  But Rhen didn’t.

  He just laughed as the inferno raged around him.

  19

  JINJI

  ~ THE GATES ~

  "Janu?" Jinji whispered, not believing her eyes or her words.

  But it was him.

  It was her brother.

  Unable to stop herself, Jinji reached out with her hand, closing the distance, but she stopped short of touching his face, worried her fingers would pass through the mirage just as they had done countless times with her illusions.

  Yet, somehow she knew this was different.

  He was different.

  His copper skin was pale as sand, not bronzed from time spent in the sun. His frame was tall like a man, but thinner than she ever would have believed, frail. Not strong like the hunters of their tribe, not strong as she always imagined he would be if he had lived. But mostly, Jinji knew he was not an illusion because of the expression on his face.

  Where was the smile, wide and mischievous?

  Where was the grin, the laughter always teasing to bubble over?

  His thin lips were drawn flat. His broad cheekbones did not puff with hidden mirth. And his eyes were wrong—framed by full lashes and a deep brown, but there was no joy behind them, no playfulness.

  Jinji curled her fingers into a fist, pulling her hand back to her chest away from the man who was once her brother, but was not anymore.

  Now, he was the shadow.

  "What did you do to him?" Jinji whispered.

  The shadow shrugged. "The same thing my spirit-self did to you."

  It’s his true body, the voice screamed across Jinji's mind, making her wince as a sense of urgency flooded her mind. Just look at his eyes, this is no possession.

  Jinji listened, realizing that Janu's irises were not flooded white the way every other person's had been. Maniuk's ivory eyes haunted her dreams, empty as they killed everyone she loved. Or the queen's blank stare, devoid of life as she stabbed her son. But Janu's brown eyes were just that—brown. Darker than she remembered, more haunted, but still normal.

  You must kill him, the voice continued, insistent. Send him back to the ether. We can end this now. You can end this now.

  Jinji closed her eyes, shaking her head, picturing a blade in her hand. A hilt filled the empty space between her fingers, and she opened her lids, looking down to see the gleam of a knife. Jinji tightened her fist, looking up.

  He was the shadow.

  He needed to die.

  Do it! the voice screamed.

  She lifted the blade overhead. The shadow did not move, did not run. He watched, a small smile across his lips as though amused.

  Amused like Janu used to be.

  Her brother.

  Alive.

  Right in front of her.

  The knife wobbled as Jinji's hand trembled. She could stop the deaths. End the killing. Bring justice to her people.

  But he was her brother.

  He was Janu.

  Jinji screamed, bringing the blade down through empty space as she ran forward, closing the distance between them. Her body slammed into the shadow, propelling them both backward until they hit a wall. Knife at his throat, Jinji leaned in close. But the shadow showed no fear, no weakness.

  "How?" she asked, pressing the blade into the skin of his neck, just shy of drawing blood.

  The shadow smiled and it broke her heart to see such malice on lips she had only ever imagined with joy. "I've been with your brother for his entire life, whispering into his ear. I watched both of you grow up, and I watche
d you grow close. Too close. So as soon as he was old enough, I decided to act. You left me alone too many times, and it was my turn to leave you."

  "But I never left you."

  "My spirit-self may not have control yet, but I feel her inside of you. I've always felt her watching. She is you and you are she. That's how it's always been."

  Jinji swallowed the lump in her throat, processing the words. "And you are him and he is you?"

  "Always."

  "Can he hear me?" she asked, barely breathing as the knife grew dimmer and dimmer in her hands, disappearing from existence. "Janu?"

  "He is calling out your name, crying, shouting to be let free, to wrap his arms around you." The shadow shrugged, unaffected.

  Jinji stepped back, hugging herself as her body trembled and tears burned to life in her eyes. It was too painful to be so close yet so far away, to be with her brother and without him, to have such hope and such despair. It was as though he were dying all over again, as though the past had come back, more haunting the second time around.

  "What does my spirit-self say?" the shadow asked.

  Jinji couldn’t think of anything but wanting to hurt him, to pain him using the only weapon she could—words. "She screams at me to kill you."

  "Ah, yes," he said. No surprise colored his tone. "I bet she does. But that is why I chose this body in the first place."

  "Why?" Jinji asked, but she already suspected the answer. The voice continued to plead in the back of her thoughts, to urge her to action, but Jinji was stuck, immobile.

  "Do you know what it is like to live through the dead?" The shadow paused, thinking, folding his hands behind his back before meeting her eyes once more. And then he laughed, shaking his head. "No, of course not. My spirit-self never understood. I bring their souls through the ether, I watch over them in my realm, listening to their memories as they wait for new life. With time, the souls grow weaker, and they remember less and less of their years in the spirit realm. But what lingers is always the same—family, love. Those bonds are the strongest. The easiest to predict."

  Jinji focused her thoughts, trying her best not to linger on the shade of his skin, the gentle lull to his words that reminded her of their father's voice, the face that was nearly the mirror image of her own.

  She swallowed.

  "You know I cannot kill you."

  The shadow smiled, almost sadly. "I know you cannot kill him. And I know you will not let her kill him either."

  Jinji's heart sunk.

  He was right.

  "What do you want?" she murmured, helpless, stumbling as the fight quickly drained from her body.

  The shadow frowned, squinted. "What does my spirit-self tell you?"

  "That you seek to take away everyone she could possibly know or love, to leave her alone in this world so that she will come back to you."

  He nodded, sharpening his gaze. "And what do you think I want?"

  Jinji looked into his hard eyes, unrelenting, unforgiving. There was no soul left in him—the shadow was just darkness, bitterness and hatred all thrown into one. She shook her head, saying only one word, "Chaos."

  He shook his head. "You are both wrong."

  "Then what? What is it?" Jinji challenged, blood beginning to pump once more as anger fueled her veins.

  He stepped close, narrowing the space between them, looking down over her with his superior height. Lips drawn thin, emotion finally flooded his face—rage. Through gritted teeth, he hissed, "I want you to feel trapped. I want this world to become your prison, your cage, until in the end you are begging to return home with me, begging for forgiveness."

  When he spoke, Jinji knew it was not to her. His eyes passed through her, stared at something deep within her irises. And in the back of her mind, the voice cowered, desperately sad.

  "She never meant to hurt you," Jinji said.

  The shadow blinked, now staring only at her. "She broke her promise."

  Because I had to, the voice whimpered, cracking, more hurt than Jinji ever remembered hearing.

  "She had to," Jinji said, speaking the voice's words.

  "Why?" he sneered.

  Jinji waited, listening for an explanation. The voice hesitated, buzzing in the back of her brain, unsure if any words could make a difference. Because my realm is breaking, my world is crumbling, and I must save it. But I was going to come back after this life, I was going to stay with him.

  "She says this world needs her, that it is breaking and must be fixed." Jinji paused, searching for understanding somewhere in the shadow's soul, knowing she would find none. Instead, his lips turned into a snarl. But she pressed on, "She says she only intended to come for one lifetime, and that afterward she was going to stay with you."

  "Her world, her humans," the shadow drawled, releasing a quick puff of air, something between a laugh and a sigh. "Everything was always about her and her world. Did she ask to leave just for one lifetime? No. I could have helped, I could have granted her new life, a body of her own. But instead she decided to ride on the back of another soul, you, stealing your life and stealing an entrance into the realm. She chose not to include me, as she always has, and I’m through being left behind."

  Jinji watched as he continued to mutter, stepping back and forth, almost pacing. Try as she might to discard his words, something about them rang true—the voice was not so guilt free as she claimed. Why not ask for permission? Why not tell him? Why not be truthful?

  In the back of her mind, the voice remained silent.

  There were no answers for the questions Jinji was throwing her way.

  And the quiet just made more doubts fly. What if the voice had asked for help? Would Jinji's life have been her own, no spirits and no illusions? Would the shadow have left her brother alone? Would her people still be alive? Would she be happy? Would she be free?

  Yes.

  Each question led down the same road. And each had the same answer.

  Yes.

  When she looked up, the shadow was watching her, eyes full of delight. "My spirit-self is not so innocent and now you see that too."

  Jinji swallowed the daydreams back down her burning throat—forgetting what could have been. That future was long gone, taken away not by the voice, but by the shadow before her.

  "Perhaps she has not told me the complete truth, but she is far less guilty than you."

  "A loyal friend." He sighed, raising his brows. "But not so loyal that you'll kill me and end it all now."

  Jinji remained silent, completely still. But that was response enough.

  "Well," he continued, "you can tell my spirit-self not to be so worried about her world. One lifetime is all I need to destroy it. Unless of course, you decide to destroy me first."

  It was a challenge.

  Jinji bit her lip, muscles straining.

  Your brother is already dead, the voice whispered, he would want you to do it.

  But he wasn't dead. Just as the spirit dragon lived in her head, Janu was in there somewhere, and Jinji could not kill him. At least not yet. Not until she heard his voice, his true voice—full of kindness and joy. The voice that always made her laugh, always brought her so much joy. The voice that used to whisper with her in the darkness of their family tent, playing games, sharing secrets, telling stories, wondering what their futures would bring but never imagining this.

  No.

  Not yet.

  Not unless he told her to.

  "Well, this has been interesting, but—"

  A roar cut the shadow off, stealing the words from his breath as the ground below them began to tremble, began to shake. Rage and fury fueled the sound, burning her skin as though the air were on fire.

  Everything stopped.

  Jinji stared at the shadow. He stared at her.

  And then he ran, sprinting backward down the cavernous room, turning down an empty hall. Jinji chased after him, one thought filling her mind.

  Rhen.

  She didn’t know what or how,
but she knew that Rhen was involved. Her fire spirit. Her prince. Her troublemaker.

  The shadow didn't stop until his feet raced outside onto a wide balcony. Jinji followed, slamming into a stone rail, distracted by the view swelling in her eyes.

  Flames.

  Opposite them, high on a towering peak, orange and red glowed against the Gates, furiously sparking against the blue sky, brighter than the sun. There was no source, no clue as to how or why, but the mountain had caught fire.

  A dragon has been awakened, the voice whispered, tone laced with glee, cheerful.

  "Dragon?" she mouthed.

  And then Jinji understood. It was what the phantom had been trying to tell them—the dragons were alive, they were just waiting—waiting for riders.

  Rhen. The fire spirit had found his dragon. A fire dragon.

  Were there others?

  Three others?

  A scream interrupted her thoughts, pulling Jinji back to the balcony, back to the shadow who had grabbed his head in frustration, turning on her with wide eyes. "One," he seethed, "you have one but you won't get the others."

  And then he paused, taking a deep breath before curling his lips in a sinister smile. Taunting, daring her, he purred, “Watch after my body while I’m gone.” Then the shadow collapsed, body crumbling hard against the stone as his eyes slammed shut.

  "Janu!" Jinji cried, dropping to the floor.

  But her brother didn’t stir. His lids remained shut and his breathing slowed, steady as though in sleep. Jinji shifted his head onto her lap, brushing his bony cheeks with her fingers, relishing in the copper skin that melded together—the same color, the same blood.

  Family.

  She had family.

  She wasn't alone.

  Overwhelmed, Jinji closed her eyes, brushing her lips against his forehead, hating how dry and lifeless his skin felt. Coarse black hair slid between her fingers, longer than hers, bringing a slight grin to her lips.

  Would he recognize her when he woke?

  Would he think he looked into a mirror?

  Gazing down, she saw the small differences, but Jinji had worn his face for so long that looking at Janu felt like looking at her own reflection. But they had both grown up, matured—she a woman, he a man—but so much more. After all he had been through, would he remember their family? Their people? Their bond?