by K. A. Linde
“I don’t know,” Vera said softly but not weakly.
“You have deceived me, Vera. Benny. Whatever I should call you,” she spat the words out.
Vera turned her palms up in surrender. “Vera. I am Vera now. Benetta no longer exists.”
“Fine,” Cyrene said with a shake of her head.
“I will tell you everything you wish to know, Cyrene. You can trust me.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“I know that I have lost your trust, but I have never done anything to harm you. I even trained you.”
Cyrene dismissively waved her hand. “You did it to put me on the path of the prophecy. You wanted me to defeat your sister. You had ulterior motives.”
“That does not mean that I don’t care for you.”
“Can you help us defeat her?” Orden asked, standing to his considerable height and doffing his characteristic floppy hat.
“I can give you all the information that I have, but I do not personally have the magic capable of containing her again. When I tried to stop her last time, it took every ounce of my ability. Something was severed. I no longer have full access to my magic, as you have seen in the time that we have been together.”
“Great,” Cyrene said sarcastically.
Vera frowned. “But I will give the last of my magic so that you can see our story.”
Cyrene raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“I want to tell you the story of the two goddesses, but I think it would be better for you to witness it firsthand. Then, you can be clear that I am not lying.”
“See…your story. How?”
“On the spiritual plane.”
“But you can’t access spirit magic.”
“No,” Vera agreed. “I used to be able to. It was part of the reason that I am now dragon bound to Ameerath. I thought that a dragon would allow me better access to spirit magic. To keep an eye on my sister. But it saps my energy, as if it were feeding on my very soul.” She frowned and glanced down at her hands. “I can do it once more for you, but that will be all I have.”
Cyrene understood then the sacrifice that Vera was suggesting. Not just that this spirit magic would drain her…but it would also tap her magic. She would be bereft of it. A sacrifice.
Orden must have come to the same conclusion. “But what if we need your magic again? What if we need your help against the Destroyer?”
“She can’t,” Cyrene answered for her. She saw it on Vera’s broken face. “If she could have been any help, she would have already done it.”
Vera nodded, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Raw emotion displayed before Cyrene. “Please let me do this one last thing.”
“We’ll vote,” she said. Her gaze shifted to Orden. “You?”
He narrowed his eyes at Vera, as if trying to discover her subterfuge. “I don’t like it. But we need the information.”
Cyrene turned to Avoca. She hadn’t moved. She was still staring, empty-faced, at the ceiling. “Avoca? What is your vote?”
Avoca didn’t respond.
“Avoca?” she repeated.
Finally, Avoca blinked once. “Do whatever you want, Cyrene.”
Cyrene frowned and met Orden’s worried look. Avoca had taken Ahlvie’s disappearance with Malysa worse than Cyrene had expected. They’d had a secret wedding before they left Kinkadia, and now, her husband had been forced into Indres form and captured by the goddess of destruction. Cyrene could hardly blame her for being upset, but she hated that her fierce warrior friend was falling apart and not rising to the occasion.
“It’s settled then,” Cyrene said after a moment. “I’m going to release you from the bonds. If you attempt to flee…”
“I wouldn’t cross you,” Vera said at once. “I just lost my sister and my brother-in-law in one fell swoop. We still have to bury Mikel.” She swallowed around the pain. “I’m not going anywhere. This is where I belong.”
Cyrene took a deep breath and then nodded. Orden untied the knots that held Vera in place. She rubbed her raw wrists and then shook out her ankles.
“Let’s do this,” Cyrene said.
“Perhaps you should sleep for a bit,” Vera said. “Replenish your well.”
“You’re not my teacher anymore.” Cyrene did need to sleep. She was bone-weary. But she didn’t have time to rest. Not with this war while they stood on a killing field.
Cyrene gripped Vera by the arm and marched her out of the tent. They walked out of the camp, past the guard on watch, and out into the open field. She reached out for the bond that called her dragon, Sarielle, and breathed a sigh of relief to feel her nearby.
My dragon bound, it is good to hear from you. Much has passed. Akeera has gone to the dark goddess. Shall we hunt them for their insults to our honor?
Cyrene smiled at Sarielle’s enthusiasm. Her greatest wish was for adventure. They had known that the other could bring that the second they laid eyes on each other. Part of her wished that she could do just as Sarielle had suggested and run off to take down Malysa on her own. But she knew, after what she’d seen on the battlefield and the way she had stalked Cyrene’s dreams, it was going to take more than that to win.
“Come down. We must link and enter the spiritual plane.”
As you wish.
A few minutes later, both Sarielle’s and Vera’s dragon, Ameerath, appeared before them. Sarielle’s dark red scales shone bright from the light of the full moon. Her neck proud as she tucked her wings in tight. Ameerath seemed warier, as if she knew what was to come.
“It’s okay, Ameerath,” Vera said. “I have requested this.”
Cyrene of the Doma, this is ill-advised. I do not wish harm to my dragon bound. She has already lost much, and though she did not share her true identity with you, her heart has shown true through your entire encounters. Your anger is warranted but not your doubt of her character.
“Thank you, Ameerath,” Cyrene said with a small curtsy to the ancient dragon. “I appreciate your insight. If there is another way to go about this, then present it now.”
No one spoke. Neither of the dragons came to a conclusion. Vera clearly knew it for what it was. She smiled sadly at her dragon and patted her flank.
Vera held her hand out to Cyrene, who stared at it as if it were a trap. Then, with trepidation, she put her hand in Vera’s, and together, they opened the door to the spiritual plane.
2
The Sisters
Sarielle held tight to the bond with Cyrene. I will be here for you when you cross the divide. You are never alone.
“I know,” Cyrene told her. “Thank you.”
Vera flickered into appearance next to Cyrene. Her form wavered and tilted as if she was having difficulty accessing the full breadth of her abilities. Perhaps everything that Vera had said so far really was true.
“We should hurry across the divide. I do not know how long I can hold this up. Malysa was always stronger than me in spirit, and I do not want her to sense my presence.”
“This had better not be a trick.”
Vera looked panicked at the thought. “She has been shielding herself from me for months. I hope to do the same, Cyrene. But we need to cross now.”
Cyrene reached forward and touched the space in front of her that felt more like a fluid wall. Her hand pushed against it, and then she stepped through into emptiness.
Control in the spiritual plane was up to whoever was strongest. For a long time, that had been the ancient Domina Serafina, who was Cyrene’s ancestor and also one of the reasons that all of this was happening.
For so long, Cyrene had believed that Serafina was a wicked ruler of her home of Byern and Viktor Dremylon had triumphed over her to restore order. When in fact Sera had loved Viktor, and they had torn the world down together. With Malysa’s help, Sera had discovered how to access blood magic so that she and Viktor could be bound. A binding to the Dremylon line that Cyrene was still cursed with. Kael Dremylon, now one of Malysa’s generals,
was bent on destroying the world. And, worse yet, Serafina had worked with Viktor to bring down the fall of magic two thousand years prior. She’d thought he wanted equality, but with Malysa’s influence, it had ended in disaster. Cyrene was still upset with her for withholding that final truth. But she had more important things to deal with right now.
Like using the spiritual magic that Serafina had taught her over the last year to create solid ground for them. She concentrated on her surroundings, and suddenly, she was back in Byern, standing before the Nit Decus castle.
Home.
And yet, no longer home. She had lived here as an Affiliate and then been crowned Consort here against her will. She had been forced to face her greatest fear right here on this step in her final test to become dragon bound with Sarielle. She had seen herself succumbing to her blood magic and murdering all of her friends. She had sacrificed her own life to save others. And still, when she needed stability, she came back to where it had all started.
Her red gown flowed out soft and silken over her hips to the ground. A reminder of who she was and what she had been. A sharp contrast to the fighting leathers she had been in since entering the dragon tournament in Kinkadia.
Vera materialized a minute later, still in the loose gown she had been in before stepping through the divide. She no longer flickered or wavered, as if crossing over had solidified everything.
Vera glanced around, taking in the castle grounds with a frown. “Do you always draw forth your home?”
“Usually.”
“I suppose it makes sense. You’ve traveled the world, but your destiny remains here.”
Cyrene ground her teeth together. Destiny again. A heavy mantle that she had rushed headfirst into. The Heir of Light meeting the Heir of Darkness on the battlefield. A battle to end all battles. Except that battle had ended with her friend’s murder, kidnapping, and Kael Dremylon disappearing into thin air in the midst of it all. So much for the prophecy.
“Shall we begin?” Cyrene asked.
Vera took a deep breath and nodded. “I know that you don’t trust me. I understand you well enough to know that your trust is everything. It’s your lifeline. Your guiding beacon. But please hear the whole story before you judge my actions.”
“Will this stop Malysa?”
Vera sighed. “Knowledge is power, Cyrene. You, of all people, should know that.”
Cyrene opened her mouth to respond, but then Byern dematerialized before her eyes. Vera had taken control. Gone were the towering mountains and elbow-shaped river of Cyrene’s home. In its place was an enormous throne room—two, three, ten times the size of any she had ever seen before. It was all made of polished marble with dozens of columns lining the room, which was open to the simple breeze beyond. Cyrene’s jaw dropped as she took in the magnitude of the palace and the enormity of the city below. She had seen some incredible cities before, but this one went on for leagues, even on into the soft, rolling hills beyond.
“Where are we?” Cyrene whispered.
“My home—Domara.”
Cyrene startled. “You’re from…the world of the gods.”
Dean had gone to Domara to gain magic. The dragons had come from Domara before they were banished. Domara was a legend so great, she hadn’t truly believed in its existence.
“Yes,” Vera said. “The gods reside on Domara. My father was one. Though my sister and I were not despite our talent. We were mere bargaining chips.”
She waved her hand, and the throne room filled as she moved into a memory.
Two young girls stood before the dais. They couldn’t have been older than Cyrene’s eighteen years. Though they held themselves with the self-importance that came with luxury. A giant of a man sat on the throne. He glowed from the inside out as if his skin were made of something more than flesh.
“I will hear no more of this,” the man bellowed. “It has been decided. Malysa, you will marry Camilan before the summer solstice. Benetta, you are to help prepare her. Now, go wait in the parlor until he arrives.”
“But, Father,” Malysa begged, “I should go to the academy. Why must I suffer this way?”
Their father narrowed his eyes in a manner that said he didn’t repeat himself often. “If you do not do this for me, daughter, I will banish you into the hinterlands. Then, I will no longer hear your tongue wag.”
Benetta stepped up, eager and soft. “We will do as you asked, Father.” She tugged on her sister’s arm.
And, with one more fiery look, Malysa followed her sister out of the throne room.
The scene shimmered and reappeared in a study full of papers, baubles, and jewels. It was resplendent with gold filigree in every corner. The wealth the likes Cyrene had never seen in all of her travels.
Benetta was holding an outrageously large diamond in her hand. It appeared that they had stepped into the middle of an argument with Malysa.
“Seventeen years of magic school was not, nor will it ever be, enough for me. If I’d gone to the academy at seventeen, like I was supposed to, then I’d know how to make this work,” Malysa said. She lobbed the priceless diamond at Benetta, who gasped and caught it in her hands.
“We all have a place in this world,” Benetta tried to reason with her sister.
“My place is ruling everything,” Malysa snarled. A flash of darkness appeared around Malysa’s otherwise golden glow. “I am so tired, Benny.”
Benetta sighed and then held the diamond out to her. “Come on. Maybe, if we practice together while we can, we’ll find our own place.”
“You really think so?”
“Anything is possible.”
Cyrene’s eyes were locked on the diamond as Malysa placed her hand over Benetta’s. This diamond. She had seen it before. She knew that she had. In one of her dreams with Serafina, the Domina had been wearing the diamond around her neck. It was the symbol of the ruler. What was it doing here, in this moment?
But Cyrene didn’t get to ask the question before both girls were enveloped in a shimmery gold magic.
“Lysa?” Benetta asked.
“Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Benetta struggled against her sister, but Malysa just responded, “The humming.”
There was a flash, and then they were gone.
Cyrene blinked and reached out for Vera. “What happened?”
“Look around you.”
She shielded her eyes against the bright light of day and turned to find a very familiar mountain range and a rapidly moving L-shaped river. A village stood in the crook of the river. Cyrene put her hand to her heart, ignoring whatever the girls were doing beside her.
“Byern,” she whispered.
“As I first saw it,” Vera confirmed.
“But how?”
“The diamond is a dimensional portal. It transported us from Domara to here and never worked in reverse.”
“You were stranded here,” she whispered.
Vera nodded as she watched her younger self tramp down the mountainside toward the village. “They saw us as goddesses. See how we glow? People of Domara are called Doma. We were the first Doma of this world. We brought magic. Malysa sought to find her place here, away from our father and Camilan. Away from responsibility and duty.”
“And you? What did you want?” Cyrene asked, seeing the grief written on her face for the world that she had lost in her sister’s desperation for more.
“I’ll show you.”
They stood in the Byern village. Some time had clearly passed. The homes were better fortified. Boats moved through the river, bringing merchants and wealth. The women wore silk, men had rounder figures, and prosperity was evident everywhere. Goddesses or not, Malysa and Vera had changed the face of Byern forever by landing here and bringing their knowledge of Domara with them.
“What am I looking for?” I asked Vera.
“Wait for it,” she whispered. Her throat was tight and words soft as if she was going to shed tears at any moment.
Then, a man strode into the scene. Tall, broad, and carrying pelts over his shoulder. He had a kind smile and the eyes of a hunter—cunning and knowledgeable. People stepped out of his way wherever he strode. His presence held power without any of the magic or ostentatious displays of wealth she’d seen in Domara.
A woman appeared before him. She was small with wild, curly hair tied back into an unruly bun and plain clothing. Nothing to depict that she was actually Vera, a goddess to these people.
Cyrene’s eyebrows rose. “Are you in disguise?”
“It was Malysa’s desire to rule. I just wanted to live. We were the goddesses on high in Byern for fifty years when I first met Henrik.”
Vera’s face transformed in that moment. Seeing the man that she clearly still loved to this day. Despite the fact that this was several thousand years since she had first seen him, it seemed just as prominent now as then.
Vera sighed and waved the scene into nothing. “We spent a lifetime together, had a dozen children, and still, it could never be enough. It was a hard lesson to learn firsthand—that humans grow old and die while I stay young for eternity. It had never seemed so daunting in Domara, where most lived such long lives. Falling in love with a human was absurd.”
“And Malysa let you know it?”
Vera laughed softly, her body shaking from the exertion. “Malysa cared nothing for Henrik. It was what came next that upset her.”
The world shifted. The market gone. Young Henrik and Benetta disappearing. In its place was a cloistered room with the soft sounds of a baby’s cries filling the birthing chamber.
Benetta reached for the baby and held it to her breast. The midwife offered words of congratulations for the strong baby girl. Tears shimmered in Benetta’s eyes as she stared down at her baby for the first time.
“I shall let Henrik know,” the midwife said. “He will be pleased.”
