by Adalyn Grace
Behind me, Cato makes a show of my friend’s corpse, parading it about and telling anyone who will listen, “This is what happens to those with multiple magics; the gods are punishing us for our greed!”
Twelve have died so far, and because the island’s afraid, people eat his words up.
But I know the truth. The gods are not the ones behind these deaths—Cato is.
I remember the night I confronted him. How I’d looked into his eyes and realized there was no longer even a small spark of the boy I once loved left in this wicked, callous man.
“Dead because his magic lashed out? You really expect me to believe that?” I’d shouted.
His response had been to snatch my face in his hands and dig his fingers into my skin. My eyes had pooled from the pain as his nails clawed into me, but not hard enough to leave a mark. Never enough to leave a mark.
“You will keep your mouth shut,” he’d said. “Or I swear to you that I will destroy every soul on Arida.”
That was the day the first body had been found, a week after I’d caught him with the rabbit. I wish with everything in me that I’d done more to stop him then, but no matter how hard I search, I can’t seem to find any fight left within me. He’s taken all of me.
“We have to stop this!” I’ve no idea who speaks, because I don’t turn to look. I keep staring at Basil, waiting for him to open his eyes. Waiting for him to take a breath. I don’t even hear Cato approach, though I jerk my hand from his when he tries to take it.
“I have an idea.” He takes my hand again, fingers pinching forcefully into my skin so that I can’t rip away. “Sira can take your magic away!”
“What in the gods’ blood are you talking about?” I don’t care that my words are harsh. “No, I can’t.”
Though Cato’s face doesn’t twist in surprise, it does sour. He politely excuses himself from the others by digging his nails into my palms, forcing me to follow him until we’re far enough from the others that he can speak freely.
“You’ve always wanted to help people.” He says it like an accusation. “Now you have that chance. Those with multiple magics need to free themselves from danger. You can take all but one of their magics, Sira.”
“I will not.”
He wraps his arms around me as if in an embrace, though one hand bends my arms at a painful angle. The other holds my mouth to his chest, so that it muffles the sound when I cry out.
“You will take their magic.” His snarl comes with a smile. If anyone were to turn to us, they might think he’s being sweet. “I don’t care which, let them choose. But you will take it, or gods help you, I will make you watch as I destroy every last one of their souls. Now put on a smile, my love, and keep your mouth shut.”
With tears in my eyes, I listen. Because what else can I do?
* * *
“Be careful with it,” I tell the frightened girl in front of me, just as I’ve told each of them before her, “for that charm will forever hold part of your soul. Break it, and you’ll live, but you’ll never be the same.”
But I’m not the same, either.
For weeks I’ve obeyed Cato, using a mix of soul magic and curse magic to steal magic away from others. It disgusts me that it’s not even hard; I do it by diving into their souls and ripping half from it. Then I curse that half into a charm for them to wear.
When I finish, the girl’s mother pulls me into a tight embrace that sets my body on fire. “Bless you, Sira,” she says, as though I’ve saved her daughter by stealing her restoration magic. Rigid, I’m barely able to offer a nod. But she’s too relieved to notice, and together they hurry out the door.
As it shuts behind them, I add another bracelet to my wrist.
That girl was the last of them. Now, everyone has only a single magic; the whole island has been purged.
Day by day the number of leather bracelets on my wrists has grown—marked with the blood of those whose charms I control. The power over so many souls has turned my gentle magic into a seething, hungry beast.
Part of me wants to peel the bracelets from my skin and hide them out of my sight, but I can’t risk Cato finding them. I won’t risk him gaining control of these people, or the power that comes with their blood.
My heart has become more calloused with every magic I steal, sickened by the praise of those who thank me for being selfless enough to take care of them first, instead of worrying about my own multiple magics. They love me for doing this, and praise Cato for having this idea and saving them all from their demise. He’s a king in their eyes, guiding them to safety. And because the island is still in shambles—because our people are still fearful and looking for guidance on how to navigate living with only one type of magic—they make his title real. And they make me their queen.
Stars, if only they knew. If only they could tell why I’ve stopped being able to look into their eyes. If only they could feel the guilt that plagues me, turning my hair gray and withering my skin.
If only they knew how I hate myself as much as I hate Cato.
He finds me later that night by the shore, staring out at the ocean and silently begging it to claim me.
“It’s your turn,” he says flatly. “It’s time to get rid of everything but your soul magic.”
My eyes flash to meet his, icy and sharp; I always expected this moment to come.
“And what if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll kill you,” he says. “Though I hope it doesn’t come to that. We were always meant for this, Sira. You were always meant to be behind me as I ruled.”
His words are so ridiculous that I laugh. It’s a fierce, bitter sound that feels far too natural on my lips. I scratch at the leather bands around my wrist.
“You cannot kill someone who is already dead,” I say as his eyes go cold. He grabs my hand and presses the handle of his skinning knife into my palm. I glide my thumb over its cool steel, settled by the blade.
“I did this for you,” he growls, “so that we could have a better life. You should appreciate the work it took for me to get here. I didn’t just get us a home, I got us a kingdom.”
I nearly laugh again at the word kingdom. It bubbles in my chest, threatening to burst, but I swallow it down like lead. There’s no rationalizing with a man who craves nothing but power.
“You’ll give up your magic,” he demands. “Now.”
If I tear half my soul away and curse it into a charm, I’ve no doubt he’ll take that charm to assure I can’t ever break my curse, or anyone else’s.
But Cato’s controlled me for long enough.
“Why can’t I keep curse magic, instead?” I ask him flatly, flicking the skinning knife open.
“Because then you’d have to live on a different island.” Though he drops this news casually, the words grind into me. “We’re expanding the kingdom. I’ll keep a small group here on Arida; twenty advisers for each of the magics, to help build my kingdom. The others will spread out to the island that uses the magic they chose. As the only two with soul magic, you and I will reign.”
My blood boils so fiercely I can’t seem to catch my breath. “What about the families? If a child practices a different magic than their father, would you really split them up?”
He holds his jaw high. “The family can remain together. But should they practice a magic other than that of the island they live on, we’ll have to imprison them.”
“You’ve already taken so much from these people,” I say. “Are you so afraid of being viewed as weak, that you’ll take choice from them, too?”
“It’s not about being weak.” He practically spits the words at me. “It’s about being fair. Never again will anyone feel like they’re not good enough. There will be no competition. Everyone will work together, learning the same magic of their island.”
My hands shake. “And what of soul magic? It’s hardly fair to keep it for ourselves. This magic is powerful, Cato. I never shared it with others because I was always trying to make you feel importa
nt. You wanted it to be our own special practice, and I agreed so that you could feel like you have something no one else has. But if you’re so worried about fairness, shouldn’t we be sharing this magic with anyone who wants to learn? We can make it the magic of Arida.”
Shadows fill his cheekbones and sharpen his face. “Soul magic is too powerful. In the wrong hands, it would be dangerous. Other than the two of us, no one else can ever know this magic.”
The response that sparks within me is sharp bewilderment. I throw my head back with a vicious sneer. Dangerous, he says, as if it wasn’t him who wrecked the lives of hundreds and destroyed their peaceful home. Fair, he says, as though that’s ever been what he’s concerned with. As if he wasn’t ever just jealous of me and everyone else with more magic than him. As if he doesn’t love that everyone now praises him, and has made him a king.
I rise to my feet, but it’s no longer in resignation. I drag the skinning knife across my palm and close my fist around it, coating it in my blood.
I’ll separate my magic, fine. But it won’t be so he can control me. I’m done with Cato. This man is nothing more than a coward trying to justify his need to feel important. To feel powerful. And it’s time someone put this small man in his place.
I tear into my own soul, ripped and bruised and shredded. It’s so simple, as easy as breathing. But it’s not curse magic I rip from it; it’s soul magic.
Cato stretches his hand out expectantly, but rather than give him the cursed knife, I shove it deep into his palm.
He reels back, his face so astonished that it’s clear he never expected I might do something to harm him. But as he’s no longer the boy I used to know, I am no longer that girl.
The blood coating my palm mixes with his, and I slap it across his forehead.
I hardly know what I’m doing. My body is three steps ahead of my mind, acting on the angry impulse writhing within me. Acting on the power and the heat of the charms around my wrist.
“You will forget my name,” I snarl, pinning him to the ground. Cato buckles and attempts to throw me off, but somehow I manage to keep him down. My body convulses. With rage, perhaps. Or maybe with fear.
“You will forget my face, and that anyone ever loved you. May this magic be every bit the beast you are; may it curse your bloodline for all of eternity, almighty king.” I spit the word. “The moment you harm another creature, may this magic eat you from the inside out. May it spend its existence trying to accomplish nothing but the eradication of your soul. Should you let your guard down for even one moment, may it consume you entirely. Cato Montara, I hope it destroys you.”
I slam Cato’s head against the ground, and his eyes glaze over. By the time my mind and body catch up with each other, I practically fall off him, shaking so fiercely I can’t even scramble to my feet. My breaths come in sharp, desperate gasps, icicles shooting up my spine and through my veins. They’re all-consuming, but I can only laugh.
Never did I think it possible to curse a person directly, but with this vicious power I’ve gathered from the cursed bands around my wrists, I’ve done just that.
I laugh and laugh as Cato’s eyes go white, his body convulsing as the curse tears into him, settling into his blood.
He’s nothing more than an angry little boy who’s ruined countless lives with his own jealousy. And now, finally, I’ll make him pay for it.
When he jerks his head to me, his eyes are wide with fear, but I only smile as my heart collapses.
It turns out cursing another person’s life directly takes a substantial payment I hadn’t quite expected, but I don’t mind giving my life in exchange.
“The people of Arida will forget what I did to them.” Shaking, I smear my blood over the grass, then into the dirt, trying to bury it as deeply into the soil as I can get it. “Everyone on this island will forget what they have lost.”
It’s the last bit of kindness I know to offer. Choking, gagging, unable to find air, I curl the skinning knife tightly in my palm and make my final curse.
I give it my memories. I fill the knife with the story of this past year, and drop it onto the shore for the waves to bury. I want my friends to live in peace; I want them to forget the pain of all they’ve lost.
But perhaps one day, when the kingdom is ready, they’ll find this knife and learn the truth of who King Cato truly was. Perhaps one day they’ll know what I’ve done.
A wave grazes my fingertips, the water pushing the knife deeper and deeper into the sand until the blade’s been devoured whole.
All air flees from my lungs as my body stills, slackening into something both so heavy and entirely weightless at the same time.
Arida fades from my vision, and I draw my final breath.
* * *
I stagger back, and Cato’s skinning knife clatters to the ground.
There’s a lump in my throat I bitterly swallow down as I stare at my trembling hands—no longer Sira’s, but my own. In my mind’s eye, I once again see the blood of my first prisoner gliding down my fingers.
As Sira, I understood curse magic perfectly—you decide what you want people to see, and curse an object with that image or story by connecting it with your blood. There’s a chance someone could have made this whole thing up, but this curse was nothing like the one with the fox; it was far too real. Every breath Sira took was my own; I felt every emotion. Every ounce of pain and fear. It was curse magic at a level that will never be rivaled.
And it showed me that the magic within me isn’t meant to be vicious.
Sira’s soul magic was never a beast that waited to consume her the moment she let down her guard. It was gentle and inviting. Comfortable.
Her curse on Cato is what makes my soul magic behave the way it does. And the cursed soul magic she used to get rid of everyone’s magic—the one she hated herself for even possessing—is exactly the kind of magic Kaven uses, now.
Everything I grew up believing—about my blood, my magic, my lineage—none of it was real. This isn’t the way it’s meant to be.
All this time, has Father known the truth?
I don’t know how long I sit in the cavern, letting the truth sink in. I only stand because I know I have to, and my head spins with the toll of this knowledge as I make my way back out.
Bastian’s the first one I see, his sword drawn. He may not have it pointed at Kaven—whose stance is unbothered and face expressionless—but venom masks the pain in his eyes, and I know he won’t hesitate to use it if he has to. Vataea mirrors his protective stance while Ferrick crouches at the lip of the cavern, impatiently waiting.
When Ferrick sees me, his shoulders sag in visible relief and he steps forward to grab me in a swift embrace. “By the gods, you were in there forever.”
Though I want to sink into the warmth of a familiar body and relax until the fog of my brain clears, I force myself to ease away from him.
“I’m fine,” I say shakily, turning my attention to Kaven.
He watches with keen eyes, brows furrowed. “Do you believe what you saw?”
I nod to let Kaven know the truth. “I do.”
He doesn’t smile or gloat like I thought he might. He only says, “My grandfather found that knife buried in Arida’s sand years ago. He brought it back to Zudoh with him, but was too much of a coward to do anything with it. My father inherited it on Grandfather’s deathbed; King Audric had just taken the throne, and Grandfather wanted his son to share the truth with the king and the kingdom. But my father was weak and cowardly, just like him. I found the knife in his study years ago.”
Bastian practically roars. “You don’t get to talk about our father, Kaven. You killed him!”
“He was a coward,” Kaven spits. “He wanted to keep this a secret from the world.”
“He kept it a secret so Visidia didn’t end up like it is now.” Bastian holds his sword tight while Kaven folds his arms across his chest, a deep viciousness in his eyes.
“What King Cato did was wrong,” I say as
I move between them. “But this is not the way to fix his mistakes, or my father’s.” I dig my nails into my palms until my hands steady. Should one of the brothers make a move, I can’t be dwelling on Sira’s curse. I need to be ready to fight.
“The king has known the truth for years, Princess,” Kaven says, and the words stab sharp as daggers between my ribs. “I showed him the blade, willing to compromise if he told everyone the truth. But the king is yet another coward, just like Cato and my father. In his fear, he had half of our population destroyed in an attempt to stop us from asking the wrong questions or forming the wrong ideas. I assume you saw the ash on our sand? It’s from the trees your father had burned by Valukan soldiers. The bones on the shore? They were casualties of a war started by him. All to silence us.”
I think back to the ash on the shore. The bones. The ring of algae so thick it looked like tar. All of it was caused by Father.
If he truly knew about our magic, then the man I thought I knew so well has turned out to be a perfect stranger. Father was a coward to leave so many people here to suffer in Zudoh, just so he didn’t have to face the truth of our history.
My hands curl into hard fists as I press them against my sides.
No one back home seems to know the truth about Cato. The stories about him are always so proud—he’s thought to be a powerful animancer who was able to establish a kingdom and revive our population while we were on the brink of destruction. He had each island represent only one magic, to help the kingdom repopulate without temptation or greed.
But in reality, he was nothing short of a coldhearted murderer who sought to weaken others for his own glory. And if there’s truth in Kaven’s words, Father’s following in his steps.
He didn’t keep me on Arida to protect me. He kept me there so that I’d never learn the truth: he destroyed Zudoh to keep them from rising up. And he didn’t want me to ever find out.
My chest is so tight I can hardly breathe. Every revelation is another blow that fights to knock me back, but for now, I must remain standing. This is no time to drop my guard.
