Ilyan

by Rebecca Ethington

  Erupted from her.

  “It’s her.”

  The memory was gone with a gasp from Kaye, her focus back to her phone as I was left staring at the TV, the memory fading as fast as it had come.

  “Great. We are looking for the same woman the rest of the world is…” Kaye said as the image shifted to another one of her, of Joclyn. The image was so blurred I could barely make it out.

  “Are there any more images of her?” I asked, unsure if I was speaking to Kaye or to the TV directly.

  “I’m seeing a lot of them,” Kaye said, her eyes growing wide as she continued to tap against her phone. “When the Czech Sun vanished, people were everywhere. She was everywhere in Svarov. There is a picture of her killing the Chrlič. Do you think that’s why they want to find her, to find all of you… I mean, if you can stop them…”

  “Find the picture.” I interrupted her with a snap.

  The command jolted in the air, my focus unwavering from the television even though I could see Kaye’s wide-mouthed shock out of the corner of my eye.

  “The one with her killing the Chrlič,” I clarified.

  A pause. A grumble so low I was sure she thought I couldn’t hear her. “Whatever you say, your highness.”

  Your Highness.

  The word stuck to my bones, it twisted in my stomach and restrained my already tense breathing. I could feel myself react to it, but it wasn’t in recoil, it wasn’t in disgust.

  It was in familiarity.

  The recognition twisted my stomach further.

  “Why do they call her The Oheň?” I asked, reading the info bar at the bottom of the screen as I pushed the feeling away.

  As desperate as I was to put as much distance between me and his highness, the question came out just as strong and commanding as it had before, something that did not go unnoticed by Kaye.

  She looked up at me from behind her phone, her perfectly groomed eyebrow raising toward the long pin curls that made up her hair.

  “I told you,” She sighed, tapping once more before she turned her phone toward me. “Because she can kill the Chrlič.”

  Everything grew heavy. My bones felt weighed down as I struggled to move, struggled to breathe at the sight of the picture she now showed me.

  It was her. It was her face, the gentle lines of her jaw that I had caressed over and over in my mind. It was her lips turned up into a wide smile. It was the colorless sliver of her eyes, her focus determined as she looked past the lens and into me, into the cluster of those little bats that was flying right toward her, the little things snarly and frightening.

  I couldn’t look away. Her determination. Her strength. She was spectacular.

  I understood at once why Kaye was so frightened of these little flying creatures, frightened of the warzone this world had become.

  I understood why this picture mattered.

  The things were terrifying. The way they flew with teeth and claws bared, they wanted nothing more than to destroy everything in their path.

  And this woman, this amazing woman, could stop them.

  Darkness erupted from the palm of the hand she held toward them, a spark of dark fire igniting from her and sending the monsters to the ground.

  Dark Fire.

  The Oheň.

  I saw that moment. I lived that moment. This time, for the first time, the memory lingered.

  Her and I, running through tents, fighting… fighting with light and fire that came from within us.

  It could have been frightening, but it filled me with nothing but pride, nothing but a smothering love that I knew was for her.

  That I knew came from her.

  “Do you think it’s really her? Joclyn?” I barely heard her.

  I couldn’t hear her.

  All I heard were the pops of the explosions in my mind. All I saw was Joclyn running through tents, running through fire, through stone.

  All I felt was warmth as the same fire I saw in my mind tried to consume me.

  Tried to explode out of me.

  The sensation was so strong, so powerful, that for a moment I was afraid I would. Just like Joclyn was in those images.

  The Oheň.

  Everything was becoming muddled as the memory left, only for my vision to blur as Kaye stood over me, staring down at me.

  “Hey? Jan?” Even her voice sounded constricted.

  “No..” I tried to get the word out, but it was only a groan, the sound restrained by the growing pressure and heat.

  Kaye’s wobbled worry faded as the heat grew, pressing against me as the sound of waves and the smell of the sea assaulted me

  I gasped at the sensation, panic growing as the warmth did, the image of her returning as she danced with me on a sandy beach.

  “Are you okay?” Joclyn asked with Kaye’s voice, her fingers soft against my lips.

  “You will be okay,” she said with her own voice, her smile stretching as she laughed.

  I laughed along with her, laughed at the memory, laughed at the world. The sound of my laugh buzzed in my head, growing and replicating until it was all I could hear.

  “Hey, can you hear me?” Kaye asked as the beach left, the world still swimming in laughter and static.

  The sound rippled through my skull as it multiplied, the screams on the television mutating with it, blending in a mutilated orchestra of painful sound.

  Cringing, I turned to Kaye, curious if she heard it too. But one look at her face and I could tell that she had not.

  She was confused by something. No, she was confused for me.

  "Jan?" She asked, the sound of the fake name I had been given adding to the cacophony.

  I cringed against the name, grimaced against the sound in irritation, pain and fear.

  “That’s not my name,” I gasped, the room around her beginning to shake as the sound duplicated, as I suddenly found myself unable to catch my breath, unable to breath, it was all I could do to force out one single word before everything went black.

  "Kouzlo"

  5

  The skin of my back twisted and burned as it was cut and torn in a line that stretched from the nape of my neck to the arch in my back. The line of fire grew worse as my own blood poured from the acidic gash, the warm fluid pouring over my back, drenching my hair, flooding the floor, filling my mouth as I screamed.

  My scream grew louder, desperate to expel the pain, to just pass out, to escape the prison and let death or whatever came after this take me.

  But he wouldn't let me.

  He kept me alive as I screamed, kept me alive as he ripped me open, as I began to feel my spine break apart.

  I knew it wasn’t real. I knew it was a memory trapped in a dream, but the pain was so real. I had been trapped in a purgatory of pain. The agony stretched through memories of joy, blending in confusion as my subconscious trapped me. Trapped me in moments.

  Trapped me on this table, the feeling of my own blood beginning to fade.

  The scream continued as the pain began to fade, although the burn remained, this time in lines that crisscrossed over my chest.

  This pain was familiar, I realized. This was the same as in the hospital, the same as my hand...

  Pressure swelled over my chest as the world swam again. Everything shifted upright as my hands flew to the pain in my chest, only to peel away covered in droplets of the brightest red.

  I stared at the blood, my confusion swelling as the hollow tone of a hundred voices echoed through the dark around me.

  “It is only when she is with you that she will be able to accomplish all that she must…”

  The haunted tin of the voices faded out, replaced by the abrasive sound of static as the same image of blood and stone screamed its way back into my mind.

  The image flashed bright before the voices returned, the blood-covered stone expanding into a wide cavern. The space was massive, the high ceilings twinkling as multi-colored lights drifted through the dark, dancing over smooth hewn walls and a wide poo
l of glass. My soul jumped at the imagery, something deep inside of me pulling me toward it, toward the pool, desperate to be swallowed whole.

  I didn’t move.

  I stood still, blood speckled fingers held before me as the same voices came again, their origin becoming apparent as the pool shimmered, a hundred figures standing along the edge. Dark capes were pulled over them, obscuring face and limbs until they were nothing but grey masses against black stone.

  “This child is power.” The voices were a song as one man stepped through the wall of monks as though they were nothing more than fog.

  His features were weathered, although he appeared to be no older than the mid-20s that I was. His green eyes were on me, staring into me as he continued his advance.

  “Power that is strong enough for you,” the voices hummed in unison before they began to chant, the same static as before rampaging through my memory.

  “For you. For you. For you.”

  The memory of the wide cave vanished in a swirl of smoke. Although the voices continued, the green-eyed man didn’t move. The room around him shifted, leaving him standing in the middle of a room from several centuries before.

  Brilliant paintings covered the walls, the murals leaving everything bathed in flowers and trees. The room was a garden, but I had a feeling that was the point, seeing as the massive four poster bed had the same motif. The hand-carved flowers that decorated the wood mirrored in every other piece.

  It was beautiful, and I had a feeling it was supposed to be calming. But looking at the anger that had overtaken the man, was smothering it.

  I felt only dread.

  “For you. For you.” The chant continued from somewhere in the distance as the man stepped toward me, his eyes growing harder as he rushed me, hand clenching my face as he shook me.

  “You filthy whore! You think you can flirt and I won’t notice. You think you can stare and I won’t see?” The grip of his hand against my chin increased, dirty nails digging into my skin as I called out in a tiny yelp.

  “For you. For you.”

  “You are mine.” He spat, specks of wet littering my face.

  “No.” a weak feminine voice croaked, the sound rattling from my chest, although I was sure it had not come from me.

  It was not from me.

  “You are nothing to me. I already have your magic. You give me nothing else.” His hand shook me with each word, each syllable ripping my heart apart before he threw me on the bed, his hands clawing at my clothes.

  At my dress.

  “For me. For me.” The chant increased as my heart rate did, my confusion growing as whatever hell I had found myself trapped in moved faster. This was not my memory. This was not my life.

  It couldn’t be, no matter how real it felt.

  I gasped as a hand pressed against my back, the pressure acting like a switch as everything faded right back to that cave. Right back to the man that had thrown me down on the bed. To the man who was beating me.

  He stood calmly, no trace of a smile present as the chant continued to drown the air.

  Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t fitting.

  “You will love her.” The man from the bedroom said calmly as he stepped forward, his green eyes shifting to black as he stared through me. “But you cannot have her.”

  “You cannot have him!” The same man’s voice hissed in my ear as a different memory took hold. The same man, this time haggard and broken as he screamed at Joclyn and I. She stiffened as we clung to each other, her hand clenching against my back as her own anger sparked.

  “The length of the royal line was not in the sight,” his voice roared as Joclyn’ stiffened against me, her hands growing warm.

  The memory faded back to the cave with a snap, my tension growing as the truth behind the green-eyed man slowly began to unravel. I didn’t know who he was, but this pride I felt toward him in this memory was wrong. It was all wrong.

  “You will fail.” The monotone voices pulled me back into the cave, the tension in me growing. Another flash of the same ornate room as before, the sobs of a woman obscuring everything as I stared into a mirror, stared at that same man as he assaulted me.

  “Do you feel her?” The flat voices of the cloaked people beside the glass pool spoke over the horrifying image I was forced to watch, forced to relive as I lay trapped under this man, an unseen pressure locking me in place. “Do you see her?”

  “I do.” My own voice pulled me from the horrors in that room as a weight pressed against my chest, pressed into the painful scars in such a way that I wished I could call out.

  Wished I could scream.

  No sound came, only pain and the smell of smoke and flowers. The combination was familiar.

  The combination was intoxicating as it mixed with a swell of joy so acute I never wanted to let it go.

  So I held it closer.

  I held her closer.

  I held her in my arms, pulling her into me, breathing her in as I placed my cheek against hers.

  “Do not be afraid, mi Lasko,” I whispered as everything began to calm. The huskiness of my voice filled with an accent I did not recognize, laced with a language that I did. “I know you have seen everything…”

  A flash of the room, of the mirror as the same man plunged a fist onto my back. The impact blossomed down my spine as the image evaporated, the pressure of Joclyn against me never leaving.

  “I know you are scared, but do not be…” I continued in a hushed whisper, the words whispering through the tangles of Joclyn’s hair. “Know that I am here to protect you, to save you, and to love you.”

  The mirror again, the room reflected back to me as the image shifted, the mirror moving closer as I stepped toward it, everything burning, everything numb. The numbness left as the mirror did, the panic of the room seeping into the calm memory of the cave.

  “Even if you will never love me, I will still be here, right by your side.”

  I pulled her to face me, my touch gentle as I cupped her chin, her dark curls framing her face in a long tousled mess as she looked to me, the bright silver of her eyes glimmering.

  “You’re beautiful.” I could barely get the words out, my heart so full it was restricting my breathing.

  I leaned toward her, needing to feel her, needing to taste her lips against mine. I could feel the hunger, feel the need multiplying. But instead of pressing my lips to hers, I turned, pulling her hair back and gently kissing the raised mark I had seen before, the red brand hidden behind her ear.

  A jolt of electricity moved through my body, the feeling the same that I had felt in the hospital bed, the same as I had felt so many times before. This moment was the first time I had felt it, I realized. This was the moment I knew…

  The cave left again as a tangled mess of blonde hair, same as mine, appeared in that mirror, the reflective glass finally coming into focus as I did.

  But it wasn’t me.

  It was the same long straight lengths of my hair, it was the same brilliant blue color of my eyes, the shade iced over with a devastating pain.

  But it wasn’t me.

  The woman’s face was streaked with tears as she looked at herself, as she placed her hand against the mirror, the hard surface fogging up against her touch.

  “I don’t want this,” she gasped, her voice broken in a pained sob. “I don’t deserve this.”

  “I love you,” my own voice was a whisper as it broke through the woman’s pain, the words accompanied by a single flash of Joclyn in my arms, of the one that I longed for. Those all-encompassing emotions suddenly felt stagnant against what I just witnessed, against the pain of the woman that I could still see shadowed in my mind.

  “I love you, Joclyn.” The ghost of my voice echoed as I held her, as I lost myself against her.

  My heart beat louder as her name cemented in place, no more just the whispers that Kaye had heard while I slept.

  This was her.

  This was the girl that I longed for.r />
  This was my Joclyn.

  “I love you, my Joclyn,” My voice came as the memory shifted, Joclyn now laying in my arms, her shirt covered in blood, her face smeared with it.

  She smiled at the words, her blood drenched fingers soft against my face, “I love you, my..."

  “You need to run!” A scream broke through the memory, turning her last moments into smoke as a new panic cut through me, the scream pulling past memory and plunging me back into reality.

  “I’ll be fine,” Joclyn whispered in my mind, her voice echoing in my head as I saw her again, wearing the same blood soaked clothes as she sat in a cave, hand over her stomach.

  “Run!” The shout shattered my dreams, the single word erupting as the girl in the mirror returned, her mouth open in a scream before she punched the glass, shattering it.

  The tinkling of broken glass rang loud, mixing with the sound of rubber shoes against linoleum as more yells broke through my memory.

  “Now, Kaye.” A voice, a woman, yelled. “He has been in a coma for years. You are wasting our time.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder, the rough touch different than my memories. It shook me once before it was gone, replaced by footsteps that pounded in my skull. Blood spread over the wall of rock, before it too faded to black, before whatever memory-driven hell I had been trapped in faded away and the sounds of footsteps melted into the sound of screams.

  The sound of guns.

  The bangs pressed against my skull like a hammer, they shook my bones as a flood of pain swelled over me, filling every part of me.

  “Run!”

  The shout came from the direction of the hall outside of my room at the hospital, the sound mixing with screams and sounds of retreat.

  Terror slapped me so hard that I gasped in air, only to find the passage blocked. Everything was blocked. Mouth open in a silent scream, I could feel something snake down my throat. The machines I had grown so used to echoed the sound of my terror as my eyes snapped open to the pitch black, eyelashes fluttering against dark fabric.

  Panic grew. Beeping increased. In my panic, I clutched at my face, at the heavy fabric covering my eyes, at the stubble that was all that remained of my hair. With shaking fingers trailing in horror to my mouth and the massive contraption that was attached there.