by Morgan Rice
Kyra realized she lived with an iron grip clenching her stomach, driving her to always want to be the best, to prove herself. She was too driven, and it ran her life. Perhaps it was because she was a girl in a fort full of men, or perhaps it was because she wanted her father’s approval so badly. Yet in order to achieve all that she wanted, she realized, she had to finally stop craving it. She had to allow it to come to her. Most of all, she had to appreciate and accept herself in this moment. Appreciate and accept that regardless of what would come, she was good enough, at this very moment, exactly as she was.
Kyra, lost in her mind, did not know how much time had passed when she felt a warmth begin to course over her body. She felt the universe begin to melt around her, and she began to feel the universe embrace her, accept her. As she did, she felt all her tension release. She entered such a deep state of calm, of focus, that she began to sense a new feeling stir inside her. It was a sense of clarity. A sense of new doors opening. A sense of inhabiting a place she had never inhabited before. It was a new power, always just out of her reach, slowly coming to her.
Kyra opened her eyes very slowly, shocked to see that it was sunset, and as she did, she turned to see Leo and Andor begin to walk away from her, cautiously, as if afraid. It was as if they sensed something had shifted within her.
She opened her eyes more, and as she did, she knew she was no longer the same person. She knew she had summoned her innate power—and that it was stronger than it had ever been. Alva had been right all along. She had been wrong about him; despite her skepticism, he had been her greatest teacher of all.
Kyra looked down at the forest below, and, wanting to test her power, focused on a branch. She directed the power within her, and a moment later, the branch snapped off the tree and flew to the forest floor.
Emboldened, needing to test her power further, Kyra heard running water, looked over at a stream, and silently ordered it to stop. It suddenly ceased, its water stopping, its bed running dry. She could feel the pent-up energy of the water, rising high as she stopped it, creating a wall. She released it in her mind, and it began to flow again.
Kyra, feeling more powerful than ever, looked far below at a huge, fallen tree, lying on its side on the forest floor. She willed it to stand upright again. She watched, heart aflutter, as the tree slowly rose, creaking with a great noise. She felt its great strength within her as it rose, its leaves rustling. Birds and squirrels scurried out of the way as it finally reached its full height, standing tall once again.
Kyra felt an unbelievable, limitless power coursing through her, like a river she couldn’t stop. She felt more powerful than a thousand men, felt as if there were nothing in this world she could not achieve. She closed her eyes, elated, taking a deep breath and letting it out, feeling a great sense of victory. She had reached the summit. She did not know if it was the highest summit, and she did not know if it would last forever, or ever come again. But for now, for this moment, her powers were undeniable. They were real.
She knew, finally, that she was special. She knew, finally, that the prophecies were true: she did have a special destiny.
Kyra closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wanting to go deeper. She needed to know more. She sensed that all the answers to her life lay right before her, secrets about her mother, her destiny, all of it lingering at the edge of her mind’s eye. She felt her palms grow hotter and hotter, felt the tingling between her eyes, and she breathed for a long time in the silence, sensing it was coming.
Caressed by ocean breezes, Kyra became lost in the silence for she did not know how long, until finally a vision flashed before her. It was so vivid, it felt as if it were real.
Theos. She saw him, soaring high in the sky, circling Escalon. Then, suddenly, she felt a pain in her stomach as she watched him shriek and fall from the sky, entangled in a net of steel. Kyra watched with horror as she saw him land face-first in the dirt. She felt his pain as he lay there, immobile, and watched as soldiers approached and punctured him on all sides with pikes. She felt the pain within her own body, as if she were being punctured, too, and she cried out involuntarily as she watched him close his eyes, suffering, and die.
Kyra gasped. She wanted to turn it off, to open her eyes and run—but the universe had more to show her, and it would not let her go.
Another vision came to her. She saw her father, in the vast capital of Andros. He was in a courtyard, at dawn, surrounded by soldiers. Soldiers he did not know or trust. Thousands of them. They encircled him on all sides. She saw the yellow and blue of Pandesia, and she watched as their commander stepped forward and raised his sword to thrust it through her father’s heart.
Kyra gasped and opened her eyes, unable to stand it anymore. She jumped off the boulder and took off at a sprint down the ridge, through the forest, followed by Leo and Andor, scratched by branches and not caring. She sprinted all the way back to the clearing, desperate for answers, desperate to shake these nightmares from her mind, desperate to find Alva.
Kyra finally stopped before his hut, gasping—but she looked up and saw it sat empty. She was crestfallen.
“Alva!” Kyra cried out, her voice echoing in the woods. “Where are you?”
“I am everywhere and nowhere,” came a soft voice.
Kyra turned and was shocked to see Alva standing in the clearing behind her, holding a staff, staring back calmly.
She approached him, still breathing hard, frantic from her vision.
“Theos!” she cried out, her words stumbling out. “He’s dead!”
She was looking for confirmation, wondering if she were crazy, and she expected Alva to be frantic, too. She hoped more than anything that he would tell her that she was mad.
But Alva remained calm and merely nodded back, expressionless.
“He is,” he said matter-of-factly—and those two words were like two nails on her heart.
She let out an involuntary cry.
“How can it be!?” she demanded, feeling the world fall out from under her.
Theos, the dragon she could summon, the beast that was meant to give her and her father dominion over Escalon, dead.
“You stand there with no emotion!” she yelled. “What is wrong with you!? Theos! My dragon! He is dead! The beast that could not die is dead!”
Kyra felt more vulnerable than she’d ever had.
“He was never yours, Kyra,” Alva replied calmly. “His company was a gift, bestowed upon you for only a short while.”
She stood there, reeling, trying to process it all.
“But…I don’t understand. I saved him. Was it all for nothing!?”
Alva stared back, his blue eyes piercing.
“Did you save him?” he asked calmly. “Or did he save you?”
She thought about that, struggling to understand.
“If he’s dead…” she continued, “we have nothing. I…am nothing.”
Alva shook his head.
“Quite wrong, Kyra,” he replied. “In fact, you are something far greater.”
She fought back tears as she tried to recall her entire vision. She tried to listen to Alva, but it was hard to focus, her vision still hanging over her like a cloud. She had pulled back the veil, and she had not liked what she had seen.
“My father,” she added, remembering. “He is surrounded. Betrayed.”
She stared at Alva, hoping, praying he would tell her her vision was false.
But he nodded back.
“He is,” he confirmed.
Kyra closed her eyes, feeling herself collapsing inside. The thought of her father out there, betrayed, alone, surrounded, without her being able to help him, tore her to pieces.
“They will kill him,” she said.
“They will,” he replied.
Despite herself, she began to cry.
“I must save him!” she cried out.
Without thinking, Kyra rushed across the clearing and mounted Andor.
“If you go, you will die.”
“You are not ready,” he added. “Your training is unfinished. Your powers you are just beginning to know. If you leave now, you will die, too.”
Kyra shook her head, refusing to listen.
“I cannot remain here while I know my father is going to die,” she insisted, her voice rising in determination. “If I stay, what kind of daughter would I be? I would be dead to myself.”
He shook his head.
“You have no dominion over others’ fate,” he replied. “But you can control your power. That is what your father would want. If you leave now, before you’re finished, you will have nothing.”
“I may fail,” she replied, steeling herself with resolve. “But if I fail, I will know that I have died in the only cause that matters.”
She grabbed the reins and prepared to kick, when his voice rang out once again.
“You make a very profound choice, Kyra,” he said. “A choice that will shape your destiny. A choice that will shape the future of Escalon for generations to come. Don’t go, Kyra. You will die.”
But she sat there, on Andor, her back to him, resolved.
“There are worse things than death,” she replied. “Like living life a coward.”
Without another word, Kyra galloped off into the woods, Leo at her side, heading south toward the capital, toward her father. She prayed only that it was not too late.
Father, she prayed silently. Let us die together. Wait for me.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Alec walked through the forge, amazed at how many people had flocked here since the downing of the Pandesian warship. It seemed as if the entire city of Ur was out in force, had all come together to prepare for the coming war. With no room left in here, people even spilled out of the forge, onto the streets, filling the courtyards, the sounds of hammers striking filling the air, as more weapons and shields and armor were produced than Alec could even keep track of. It had become a factory of war.
Sparks flew everywhere as Alec walked through, inspecting it all, the sound of molten steel hissing in his ears as he passed the vats, passing through clouds of steam. He adjusted people’s work as he went and most importantly, he overlooked the lengths of chain being forged, now laid out on all the tables, the spikes being affixed every few feet.
After his success, they were all in a mad rush to replicate his chains and create as many new ones as they could. The citizens of Ur were now determined to lace their canals with traps, to stop the invasion, and to take out as many ships as they could. The entire Pandesian fleet would arrive soon, forcing them to finish several months’ worth of work in a few days. Rows of entire tables were devoted to assembling chains, hundreds of feet of chain-link being dragged through the doors, forged into iron spikes, and dragged out again.
Alec was elated, still buzzing from the thrill of taking down that ship. His contraption had energized the entire city, and as he worked, he could feel his family smiling down, urging him to work harder. Since the death of his family, Alec finally felt a reason to go on living. There were still, after all, many more Pandesians left to kill.
Alec reached Dierdre’s table, and he paused and watched. She pounded away at a sword, surrounded by her girls, all working equally hard, hammering relentlessly, as if hammering a Pandesian. Clearly, she had a vendetta to fulfill.
He was mesmerized by her. He thought back to her defiant stand against Pandesia, and his heart welled with pride. He reached over and gently touched her hand, guiding it, and she stopped and withdrew it as if she’d been touched by a snake. He felt embarrassed, having forgotten how guarded she was.
“I meant no offense,” he said, raising his palms. “I’m just adjusting your blow. You see the blade there? You must turn it just so. Otherwise it shall be dull.”
She examined it, turned it, and pounded again, sparks flying. She did not thank him or look back at him again.
Alec, wanting to know more about her, to create a connection, did not give up. He took a seat beside her, wanting to try again.
“You do fine work,” he said. “Better than most of the boys here.”
She did not look up, but kept her eyes fixed angrily at the sword beneath her.
He did not think she would respond, but finally, she spoke:
“It’s easy when you have a cause,” she replied.
He wondered about the depths of what she had been through.
“And what is your cause?” he asked.
“To kill them all.”
Alec understood; yet he also was taken aback by the depth of anger.
“I admire the stand you took for our people in the harbor,” he said.
“I didn’t do it for them,” she replied, her voice hard. “I did it for me.”
“Even so,” he persisted, “it was your courage that gave our city courage.”
She continued to hammer, not looking at him.
“I would have gladly died before they took me,” she replied. “It was no ploy.”
“I have no doubt,” he replied. “I can see it in your eyes.”
She still ignored him, and he was beginning to get the message that she did not like him. She stayed silent for so long that he was about to get up and leave, when suddenly she spoke again.
“I admire what you did,” she replied. “With the chain and spikes. It was a fine thing for our city.”
He smiled, his heart beating faster that she took an interest in him.
“Nothing gave me greater pleasure,” he replied.
She turned and looked at him for the first time, and she seemed to soften a bit.
“And where are you from?”
He paused, looking away, suddenly feeling a pang of homesickness, unsure how to answer.
“I’m from here now,” he said.
She studied him, seeming interested for the first time.
“And before?” she pressed.
“A small village,” he replied, unable to disguise his remorse. “I am sure you have never heard of it. And now it is no more.”
She seemed to sense something, and she asked: “And your family?”
Alec slowly shook his head, fighting back tears, and for the first time Dierdre’s expression took on a look of compassion.
“I am sorry,” she finally said.
A long, shared silence fell between them, each of them understanding.
“And you?” he asked. “Where are you from?”
“Right here.”
“Ur?” he asked, surprised.
She nodded.
“Until my father gave me away. The Pandesians took me away, and I journeyed back.”
“Journeyed?” he asked, shocked, his awe of her deepening. “If you managed to escape from the Pandesians, I suspect it was no mere journey.”
Alec felt a growing sense of compassion for her, as he began to realize what she had been through. So many questions rushed to his mind, but he fell silent, not wanting to pry. He wasn’t sure what to say.
“Well, that’s all behind us now, isn’t it?” he said.
“In some ways,” she replied, returning to her pounding.
He watched her hammering away and wondered what to say to her; after all, he felt the same tragedy which she did, and he did not know what to say to himself.
“We can’t fix the past,” he admitted, thinking. “But maybe…we can change the future.”
“I will change the future,” she replied, and he was surprised by the fierce determination in her voice. “I will kill every last one of them.”
“I don’t doubt that you will,” he replied. “But have you asked yourself, when all the killing is done, then what?”
That question had been nagging at him, too. He kept wondering to himself: after he killed them all, then what? It would never bring back his family. Would his suffering ever go away?
“Do you th
ink it will take away your pain?” Alec asked.
She shook her head.
“No,” she said. “But maybe, if I can change the future enough, maybe it can help the past. It won’t make it disappear. But maybe it can make it…morph to something else.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Besides, the future is all we have, isn’t it?” He paused. “Maybe it’s better to have suffered,” he added, “better to have tragedy than to never have any at all. It gives you strength, strength that you need. That’s what my father used to say.”
“Do you believe that?” she asked, setting down her hammer.
He shrugged.
“I don’t know. Tragedy sucks. But I am stronger. More than that—I am changed. I am a different person than I was. Not just older. But deeper. Deeper inside. I have become something more, something I never would have become. I can’t explain it, really.”
The door to the forge suddenly opened and in walked a tall man dressed in a foreign, elegant garb, scarlet silks draped over his shoulder despite the heat, wearing a cape with an insignia and from a country which Alec did not recognize. He looked different from the others, with an elongated faced, flashing green eyes, a short, brown beard, a scar across his ear, and a mysterious, aristocratic countenance. He scanned the room and stopped and stared at Alec.
Alec had no idea who he could be. Was he another volunteer? His dress seemed too elegant.
The wooden floor creaked beneath his large boots as he crossed the room and stopped before him. He reached out and laid a surprisingly firm hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve come in search of a sword,” the man said, his voice thick with a foreign accent Alec had never heard before.
“You wish to fight the Pandesians?” Alec asked him.
The man nodded.
“That, I do.”
Alec reached over, took one of his freshly forged swords off the table, and handed it to him.
The man held it up and examined it, weighing it in both hands.
“Fine work,” he said in his thick accent. But then, to Alec’s surprise, he set it down disapprovingly.
