A Step into Darkscape (The Legacy Novels Book 2)

by Blake Rivers

  “I was the same, yet different, my flesh changed from what it had been; yet I was whole and alive, eternal still. Perhaps a hundred years had passed, or thousands more since my expulsion? Too long a time to travel alone in a dark world, rarely sleeping and forever searching. Occasionally, very occasionally, I’d spy a flash of light in the distance, a strange flickering against shadowed land—but were I to investigate, I found only scorched, burned earth and nothing more. Ground lightning, I told myself, and over time I learned to ignore such strangeness. Perhaps I was losing my mind? Who wouldn’t, walking the earth alone for an eternity?”

  Ami saw her words play out, a figure alone on a flat and endless meadow, the moon bleaching the rippling grass a silver sea; her hair whipped long and wild around her as she walked in no direction with no end in sight. Not a single tree stood by for comfort, not a single rise or rock, fall or gulley, yet she moved onward still. It was desperate and dark and chilling.

  “There were times I would settle in once place for a while and sit, thinking of a life many lifetimes gone, of the friends I’d had, of my father, though I barely recall him now. I’d think of the humans I’d petted, and of how they’d brought offerings to me, their simple minds barely beyond savagery. I missed them all. I missed everything, and I’d let the memories fill me, imagining a reunion, perhaps over the next hill, within the next forest, where they’d all be waiting for me—would be happy to see me. I’d be home again…

  “My journeys were always in hope, from woodland to field, to mountainous climb, from each lake and pool to every cave within the deep, dank earth. Each dropped apple, rotting in the dark, could be a meal just finished and left by a traveller; fallen branches were a den abandoned, and I was always a step behind reconciliation. I’d arrive back at the same, familiar hills over and over, unsure whether I’d walked a circle, or travelled the earth entire; and the ghosts of Celestial walked and talked with me always, shadow on shadow, whisper on wind. They told me of their struggle and surprise, how if I were swift I’d catch up and find them gathered.”

  All became quiet as the final log died, and Romany reached into the hearth, creating three more from nothing but air. She lowered them into the flames and the dance resumed with a spit and lick and spark.

  Ami watched the feast.

  “It was in a woodland that I happened upon an object, an object that brought me both happiness and devastation. I’d been climbing a steep bank, my hands and feet bare, rough with callouses from healing wounds that reopened constantly on the rocks. It was a hard climb, and though I’d fallen more than once, I eventually made it to the top and to a mighty forest there. Looking out over the edge I could clearly see where the earth had shattered and fallen, having eventually grown over with grass, vines and brush to start afresh. I saw roots from the most ancient trees hanging grey-green and white against the lit slopes of the abyss, and I still pondered them as the wind rose, bringing with it the first light smattering of rain. It had rained so seldom that the very feel of it on my skin frightened me, and so I slipped between the trunks of the trees and entered the oaken forest. The shelter of the interwoven branches kept the rain out, though far above I heard the hushed sound of the mighty fall. The moon was also lost to me, and so I made my way between the trees mostly by touch, feeling my path ahead and listening to the muted chatter of the hidden limbs. They spoke, I was sure, tittering and ticking as they talked of me. My powerful sight saw only that which was in front, so thick was the darkness. My footing slipped more than once and as the ground gave way to a sharp decline, I quickly lost my balance. I tripped, slipped, and tumbled, stopping suddenly against a hard column of stone at the bottom of the slope. Dazed, I lay with my head propped upon its cold surface, staring up into the dark.

  “Eventually my wits returned and I touched it, sliding my hand across it.

  “I needed to see it.

  “Raising my arm I sent power shooting upward to divide the trees, showering moonlight and soft water upon my upturned face, and down upon the stone. Smooth it was, curved and taller than myself. This wasn’t shadow, but it was a ghost. A white stone column, a discarded relic, lodged at an angle and thrust between two trunks. My eyes and hands followed its course, and I climbed upon it as if a horse, shuffling up its shaft until I reached the broken top. It hung over a previously unseen chasm, a fall into darkness where there were no trees, only black rock and coal.”

  Romany paused, ever more the girl. “It was horrific. Soul destroying.”

  “Why?” Ami asked, a small whisper.

  “After thousands upon thousands of years alone, I had created my own Celestial in my mind, an uninterrupted future from living shards of memory. Now I could touch a true shard of memory, a shard that shattered all illusions. It was a part of Celestial, it was a part of my home without a doubt—and they were all gone, everyone. My fantasies were nothing, the shadows only absence of light, of life. I was alone, and Celestial, each and every living being I’d known since time had begun…gone.

  “I’d found the first proof of end. Of death.

  “It had been made, sculpted with hands, heart and soul, power and magic. It was real and I could touch it, and touch it I did, first stoking it, then slapping it, then thrusting my fists against it so hard that I bled. All that time alone, desperately desolate, and here from nowhere was proof of my isolation. There had been a civilisation, there had been a grand city…had been. Gone.”

  Ami closed her eyes and felt the pain of the awakening. She saw Romany there, her fists pounding the stone, blood spattering black in silver light and shade; she looked down on her as if hovering above the trees, seeing the whole silent forest, hearing only her sobs.

  “I spent a long time at the column, pondering and thinking, hurting and healing, looking around for other finds, a wall perhaps, or a single slab of marble. I dug deep into the earth, ripping skin from bone, and used the power to fell trees to look beneath them. Nothing. I found nothing. I stayed, thinking that if I left for even a moment, the column would vanish, sealing my madness. I knew that if that were to happen, I would scream and scream and scream and never be able to cease.

  “My grief had immobilised me, but it had done nothing so dire to the world around me, and things began to change.

  “It started light, a subtle rumble beneath me, a feeling so slight that I was able to lay upon the column and ignore it almost entirely, but then it grew stronger and I became cold with fear. I sat up, alert suddenly, for what if this world was to shatter as Celestial had done? Would I be lost twice over, or cease as all other life had done? The mighty earth was cracking, a sound that marked the end of everything. The empty void of after-infinite had followed me, had come finally, licking its darkest lips and gnashing its teeth. It snapped its jaws and the land split, the earth beneath my legs parting in such a terrific way that I had to scramble to keep hold of the column—but the column was moving also, heaved up and out of the ground by shifting banks. I clung on for as long as I could, clods of mud and rock falling as land rose above and fell. And there gaped the chasm of after-infinite, an awesome mouth of yellow-orange, burning spittle. The column upended and fell toward it, and in sheer panic I let go, gripping instead to the trunk of a tree. The last of my old world shot downward like an arrow into a burst of steam, lava and roiling white water. It disappeared, and I’d found purchase at the end of the earth.

  “But the land hadn’t finished, and the gap widened still, the tree I clung to falling—I had to climb as land folded back upon itself, releasing the earth’s fiery blood which shot into the air. More came, spluttering and bubbling, all smoke, steam and cascading vapour, rising and consuming all, an inferno. Blinded by the fire in eternal darkness, boiled and seared by the insurmountable heat, deafened by the roar of end upon end, I fell.”

  “What happened to you?” Ami asked.

  Romany startled, as if she’d forgotten she was there. “You are so interested? What is the secret of this sword?”

  “There is no
secret.”

  “Where was it made? What power does it possess?”

  Ami remained silent.

  Romany reached out and grasped the blade, a flare of red fire running the steel. She gripped it tight, her fingers bleeding as it cut into her, yet still it would not yield as another power pushed back, the flames joined by flickers and sparks of purple and green; then they ceased and disappeared, leaving only steel threaded with lines of blood.

  She released it and leaned back. “I need the power within,” she whispered.

  “You can’t have it,” Ami whispered back. Her own power had tightly coiled within, though to what end she wasn’t sure. The woman was too strong, she knew that, could feel it. She couldn’t defeat her, and so she let the power settle, watching with mild disgust as Romany licked the blood from her fingers like a cat, the wounds fading with each grotesque lap.

  “I can almost taste the power. The Assassin Princess, a sword of Celestial…”

  She seemed frozen then, the eerie statue once more, her gaze locked in space, her face slack and lifeless. It was as if she’d left her body, leaving nothing more than an empty shell in her place. Never, during this whole time, had Ami felt horror as she now did, watching as Romany’s wounds leaked, dark liquid staining, the tap of blood spotting the shadowed floor.

  Minutes went by.

  Ami shuffled forward, looking with wonder at her vacant stare. Her sword was only a reach away, yet even if she had it, could she escape the palace before Romany could react? She imagined the strike of a snake, the elegant but powerful hands wrapping around her throat and snapping her neck in a second. What were her chances? She raised her hand and tested her power, feeling the crystal-formed-steel shift, seeing it tilt ever so slightly. Then Romany was back, her eyes fluttering, tiny muscles animating dead flesh across bones and sinew.

  Ami lowered her hand, though the woman gave no sign she’d noticed.

  “So,” she said, “you will not tell me? I will know in time, I assure you. I shall either hear it from you, or force it from the sword. But perhaps we should continue with my tale until he is ready.”

  He. Ami frowned. He.

  The woman stood now and strode past her, disappearing into the shadow of the stacks only to reappear in a blaze of light as a window was uncovered. Ami winced. The glare lessened and for a moment she glimpsed the pretty girl who the woman had once been, her skin a light bronze against the panes, her hair shining like falls of chocolate silk that she pushed back behind her shoulders. A princess, a queen, looking now from a great height on a fortified stead. The shutters were folded back from the windows and the library was fully lit for the first time, dust falling, rising, flying in secret shafts before vanishing. It was a cell of hidden knowledge laid bare, as was the woman, all menace veiled behind the façade of beauty and youth.

  “It was the start of something more terrifying than I could ever explain,” she said, thoughtfully touching the glass. Ami slid against the back of the sofa to listen, curling her feet beneath her. The heat of the fire warmed her legs and back; she felt sleepy. “It was the beginnings of a new world, though I’d never truly known the old one. I’d been thrown into a river of lava and steam, burning, burning, burning, my flesh slipping from my bones—and then I was discarded, thrown, and landed face down in the thicket of what remained of the vast forest. A bloody mess, a horror I’m sure, I stood final witness to the end of times, the earth splitting, the fiery blood of nature shooting high into the dark, smoke-filled sky. The chasm had divided into two, and with one half risen, the other sunk, taking water and earth alike deep into the depths. It swallowed all I could see; it didn’t stop there. My body healed in hours as the world around me changed. Skin and bone rejuvenated. I moved on, watching the rapid rise of an ocean where there had once been land. An ocean, the first I’d even seen. It was vast and I watched it form as I walked the edge of the new cliff. Soon nothing was left of where I’d been, the terrain having changed for good, for always. Mountains were formed, broken and reformed, and in time I scrambled up them to higher ground, the sea continuing to rise, reclaiming the cliff and the ancient trees.

  “What had been seabed was now land, flourishing in growth and colours I’d never known, the old lands a horizon, slipping further and further away. I went higher and higher, beating the rising water, watching as a mysterious glow filled the sky, the earth showing its first glimpse of sunlight since the split of the layers.

  “I’d have to explore it all over again—and so I did—I as naked and as wild as the new world around me.

  “The first desert took me by surprise, and without death, the agony of thirst and hunger burned. The first winter took me with cruel fingers and led me to freeze in ice and snow for a whole season, with no shelter or warmth to be found. I was but a dream, wandering and wondering and existing, though I never forgot Celestial.

  “My familiar green came again, night and day the only break in an infinite existence. Valleys opened their grand mouths presenting fruit, flowers, streams and falls. I ventured deep, climbing down jagged slopes, slipping into pools and lakes where I bathed. All around were wild and dangerous animals hunting, razor teeth, fur covered tigers and bears; reptiles shared the waters and marshes, while creatures far bigger stalked and roamed above the tallest oaks and pines.

  “I fashioned myself a shelter within a high up cave, using the power to protect myself from harm—I was lost, enveloped by a new life I didn’t understand. I was alone, and I was scared.

  “I spent many an eon within that valley, watching it flatten and wear away, watching even the largest of the predators fall and die before the waters claimed all again, and I moved on.

  “Yet, no matter how far I travelled, I felt Celestial following me. Funny, I thought, that only upon the realisation that all I’d know had truly gone, did I finally realise that it was still all around me. Not the same as the column, a relic, no, but what was so different, really? The sun rose and crested the tallest mountain peak, besting its height and glory and flooding the land with golden light that brought each colour and shape to life. Indeed, more than this, I became engrossed in the detail of life itself, chasing the butterflies as they soared and dipped, crouching to watch four-legged beasts run in herds and jump ravines. Hadn’t this been my world also, outside of Celestial’s walls? And when the sun set, and thick mists rose from the rivers, did the stars, however different, not shine the same as always?

  “It was in the night that I still caught flickers and flashes in the periphery of sight, the ground lightning I’d seen before. I felt the power in them each time, and each time I turned too late…all but the last time at least. Out there.” Romany pointed beyond the window pane, then slowly turned back to Ami. She retook her seat, glancing at the sword against the hearth, saying nothing more of it. Her focus wandered, and Ami thought that perhaps she would blank out again, but her attentions returned with a smile. A grimace.

  “I had come at last to a cliff that hung above a raging sea, a lush and fertile land pre-dawn. To step out of the treeline was to meet a ferocious wind, cut with salt and spite, and though I’d tread many a water’s edge, never could I recall such a slap of nature’s wrath. The woodland around, green and alive as it was, reminded me of long ago times, of stepping from Celestial and into the wild woods beyond—and for good reason, for what did I find here but bipeds, a community of men?

  “I was careful and curious, and having spied the animal-skin covered hunters, followed them in stealth back to their dwelling. In a gulley was a river, and to each side were huts of wood and mud. I watched them, camouflaged and as dark as any shadow. You cannot understand. None can. At first I hated them, and then I envied them, yearned for their company, these strange creatures who were so alike and dislike those long ago savages. All this time in contemplation, I moved not an inch. Yet finally I turned, set on leaving, set on bitter rejection, so long alone, and now? Such a revelation.

  “Then I saw a flicker at sunrise, a flash so close.
It came from the cliff edge. Through the thicket, cresting a hill, the white flashes lit a path for the sun and burned my eyes. Soon I found myself scrambling from the gulley and back toward the sea, slipping silently away from the sleeping men, women and children. It was ground lightning, power left by my own kin, I was certain. It called to me, connected with me, and now fixated on the white light, I climbed the land both hard and wet, clawing the ground on all fours, descending at a run on two. I darted between tree and beneath branch and jumped the rocks, the sea wind catching me, scratching with dark claws from shadows unseen.

  “Then I was there, and from the first, knew I’d been right.”

  “What did you see?” Ami asked.

  “It was a hole in the earth, a well, filled with light and encircled by stones. The men had enshrined it, recognising it as powerful magic, and had written meaningless symbols either side, scattering small, carven statues—they didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was a link, a link to Celestial. Just looking down into it, bending against a trunk, gave me knowledge as if reading a note left long ago. I gained a little understanding of what had happened to the land I’d once lived and loved in, and what it was I’d found. This well of white lighting was a portal, and I was suddenly sure of this as if it’d been whispered into my heart. Yet after millions of years alone, I was unsure of almost everything else. What did it all mean? Where did it lead, and why had it been left there? I got to my knees and peered into it, into the bright light of my people. I felt its power even more so now, and my own peaked and reached out toward it. It felt like home. I put my hand into the well, sending a spark high into the air, and as I touched the light I saw patterns in my mind, fragments of lands and beings, fingers of light and magic streaming into me. I saw myself reflected in mirrors, so many mirrors, stretching so far back into obscure darkness.”