by S A McClure
She swallowed hard.
Her head ached as she breathed in slowly. A kernel of the spell still existed. It was like a gnat, swarming around her mind. She was too far in to stop now. Besides, she wasn’t sure that she would be able to leave the dreamworld until she broke the spell.
She forced her way to the spell’s core. It was a knotted bundle of threads, each one representing a different layer of the spell. There were gaps in it where she’d successfully destroyed elements of the spell. But there were also shorter threads where she’d only managed to lessen their effects.
She sighed, knowing she didn’t have enough time.
Although it had felt like moments for her, she knew it had only been seconds. As she opened her eyes, her wall shattered. She didn’t have time to reform it. The longer the entrapment spell remained active, the weaker she became.
Instead, she imagined that she was in a small cocoon of protection. A thick, stretchy material coated her skin. Like the wall, runes glowed within the substance as it hardened into a protective layer. It wouldn’t last long, and she would be able to feel every strike they made against her, but at least it would give her more time.
She plunged back into the spell she was trying to break. She clenched her hands around its core. Her whole body shook as she absorbed blow after blow from her attackers. She ignored the pain in her ribs, her back, and her legs. She thrust both hands into the center of the spell and began ripping wildly at the threads. She felt several of them snap.
Her entire body shook as the spell tried to maintain stability. Blistering pain shot up her hands, reaching her elbows, her shoulders. She knew it that once it reached her heart, she would die.
She didn’t care.
This spell was unlike anything she’d experienced before. It was beautifully crafted. Powerful.
But also deadly and sinister.
She wondered who could have crafted such a thing.
She reached in deeper, grabbing the hard ball at its center, and squeezed. She envisioned it shattering into dust. She could see the way the dust fluttered away.
The poison crept along her collar bone. Its tendrils stretched towards her heart.
Blows from the six figures pummeled her. A hole formed in the protective cocoon and hot blood seeped from a wound on her left calf.
Her mind whirred. She couldn’t formulate thoughts. All she could do was focus on squashing the seams binding the spell’s core.
Until all that was left was a thin, sickly looking kernel of power at its center.
She let her magic guide her. Golden sparks sprung from her fingertips, electrifying the kernel. It began to burn her hand. Blisters formed on her skin and she cried out in pain. Still, she didn’t drop the kernel. She focused on destroying it.
Her head snapped back as one of the figures landed a punch to her jaw. Stars exploded in her eyes as the air was knocked from her chest. Her grip on the kernel loosened as she nearly lost consciousness. She struggled to stay coherent. Another of her attackers slammed their shoulder into her chest. What little air she still had was completely pushed out of her.
More punches landed on her face. Her back. Her torso. Pain crept through her as blow after blow came. She couldn’t focus on anything but that small, hard, burning kernel in her hand. She knew that if she were able to destroy it, she might have a chance at escaping this alive.
She squeezed her hand so tightly the blisters on her arms and hands burst. She screamed, her voice raw.
Everything stopped.
It was so silent that Iris thought she’d finally entered the void. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with her blood. She didn’t care. Her body was numb. The world had gone dark and she couldn’t see a single thing.
A sucking sound enveloped her, and her body was pulled inward. Her mouth opened to scream once more, but no sound escaped.
A loud pop jolted her.
She opened her hand and the spell’s core blew away in a cloud of glittering dust.
She gasped. She’d done it.
“You!” a voice snarled at her.
One of the figures separated from the rest. Her hood fell to her shoulders, revealing her countenance. Long, curly hair framed a heart-shaped face. Her caramel skin glowed in the particles of Iris’s broken shield. Her eyes were the most intriguing thing about her. Blue and green mixed to form a tumultuous storm.
Her hand shot out and gripped Iris by the throat, her nails digging into the soft spot at the base of her neck.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Iris couldn’t respond; the grip on her throat was too tight. She wouldn’t have, anyway.
The woman sniffed at the air around her. Then, she dipped a nail into Iris’s blood and tasted it. She shook her head.
“Whose bloodline do you belong to?” she hissed.
Iris stared at her with what she hoped could only be defined as defiance radiating from her eyes. She didn’t look away as the woman raked her nails across her cheeks, leaving three scratches in their wake.
She shook Iris. “Tell me whose people you belong to!”
Iris blinked at her. Thus far, she’d been able to wheeze in a little air, but the longer the woman held her throat, the more lightheaded she became. Using what little strength she still had, she grinned up at the woman. She knew her teeth was coated in blood.
The woman brought her hand up to strike her again. Iris closed her eyes and thought of her home. She could almost smell the wood smoke as a merry fire burned in the hearth. Snow clung to the windows as the trees sparkled with icicles. She snuggled in closer to Emma’s side.
Wherever Emma was, she hoped she would find happiness.
She hoped she would be able to forgive her.
She opened her eyes just in time to see the woman’s hand come down. Iris’s body began to glow. Her skin dissolved into tiny, golden particles.
Her last thought was of Emma’s smiling face as she spun in the flurry of snow as it fell from the sky. A smile touched her lips as she completely disintegrated.
Iris’s eyelids fluttered open. For a second, she almost forgot about the shitstorm she’d been through. She imagined she was back at Grandmother Rel’s cottage, before the attacks began. Before she dreamed of Liam. Before Emma almost died and lost her memories in the process.
But then world came crashing back down and it was all she could do to stop herself from melting into a fit of sobs. Tears wouldn’t save them from this new threat. She didn’t know who the six figures had been, but she was determined to find out.
After she saved Liam.
She didn’t know what Grandmother Rel was doing to him, but she would make her pay for the pain she’d put him through.
The door creaked and sliver of light streaked across the floor. Iris sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Emma strode in, carrying a tray laden with a teapot, cups, and a few snacks.
Her gaze swept over Iris, and she dropped the tray.
Iris opened her mouth to speak, but found that her throat was too raw. She clutched at her neck, hoping Emma would understand her pantomime.
Emma nodded and rushed to a washing table wedged into the corner of the room. She poured water out of a pitcher and handed it to Iris with a trembling hand.
“I thought you were dying,” Emma whispered as she sat on the edge of Iris’s bed. She placed a warm hand on Iris’s leg and squeezed gently. “Please don’t ever do that to me again.”
Iris gulped down the water. It was room temperature and had a slightly metallic taste, but it soothed her swollen throat.
She set the glass down on the side table and sighed. Emma squeezed her arm.
Iris jerked away as pain flood her body.
Emma caught her hand and turned her palm faceup.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
Gingerly, she trailed her fingers over the scars on Iris’s hand. There were still a few blisters festering with pus. They appeared red and angry.
“Broke a spell,” Iris croaked ou
t. She gave her sister a half-smile that didn’t meet her eyes. She knew she could die in the dreamworld, but she hadn’t realized tearing apart that spell would physically injure her.
Emma shot to her feet and stalked over to where their packs rested against the wall by the door. She rummaged through Iris’s bag, pulling out various salves.
“Which one works the best for burns?” she asked.
The corners of Iris’s lips quirked. Her sister, ever the fixer.
“Green bottle,” she whispered. Her throat ached with each word. “Purple label.”
Emma came back over and popped the lid off the jar. She scooped out some of the salve and spread it over Iris’s blisters.
The wounds instantly cooled as the salve began to sink into them. Iris sighed in relief and sank back into the pillows. Although her body longed for sleep, she couldn’t imagine drifting off again. She didn’t know if she could avoid being pulled into the dreamworld while she was this weak.
She did not want to go back there.
“Tell me what happened,” Emma demanded as she laid down beside Iris on the narrow bed. She wrapped her arms around her and snuggled her head against Iris’s head.
Flashes of the battle with the mysterious figures poured into her mind. She didn’t know how to explain what had happened. She didn’t understand it.
“The leader of the Silver Skull coven met me in the dreamworld,” she finally said. It was the easiest place to start. “She offered me a chance to end the kill order on my head.”
Emma hovered over Iris. Her hair tickled Iris’s face as tendrils of it fell onto her cheeks.
“What?” She scowled, searching Iris’s expression. “Tell me everything.”
Iris nodded. Her head still ached, and she didn’t know how long she would be able to talk.
“I only want to have to tell the story once,” she whispered. “Will you go get Micah? I think he needs to hear this too.”
Emma paused for the briefest of moments before rolling out of the bed and padding to the door.
“I’ll be right back,” she said before slipping from the room.
Iris watched her leave. She couldn’t tell if she was relieved to be alone for a moment or terrified. Every time she closed her eyes, panic filled her. She could fall asleep. She could find herself back in that spot with the six mysterious people who all wanted her dead.
She chewed on her bottom lip. She wondered if Elilda knew how blood-thirsty the spellcasters were. She’d said six of her witches had died, and Iris could believe it after what she’d seen. The spellcasters were unyielding, bent on destruction. She wondered what their real motivation in killing witches was.
Iris focused on her breathing to. Dizziness kept her from moving too much as she stared up at the ceiling, waiting for Emma to return with Micah.
There is always hope, even if the darkest of nights, if you believe the stars will shine again.
She laughed at herself for remembering the line from one of her favorite stories as a child. It was a tale about Kilian Clearwater, the greatest hero Mitier has ever known. He single-handedly defeated Szarmian troops as they attempted to wipe magic from the world. He was the epitome of someone committed to serving the Light at all costs.
As a child, she’d dreamed of saving the day. Of course, Emma had always been the hero when they’d acted out the stories. She was the brave one. The strong one.
But Iris had promised herself that she wouldn’t lose sight of the power she wielded now. She could break the bonds holding people back. She could save lives by extending her powers to them.
She smiled as she whispered, “I will be the shining star in the darkness for anyone who needs it.”
The realization that she was willing to die in her fight to share the Light with others gave her pause. She knew it wasn’t just words. She’d almost died breaking the spell tonight. And she knew she would do it again, if it meant saving another life.
She just hoped they could rescue Liam before she had to make that sacrifice.
Chapter Nine
Iris
When Iris finished telling Emma and Micah about the fight with the mysterious people from her dream, Emma stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Say something, please,” Iris pled, taking her sister’s hand. She squeezed it gently.
Emma sputtered, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Iris sighed.
“Look,” Iris said, “I understand that this is a lot to take in, but the really important thing to remember here is that the Silver Skull coven won’t be after us anymore. We can finish our quest to find Liam without having to look over our shoulder every minute.”
Emma nodded, but still didn’t say anything.
“Micah,” Iris said, turning to look at him, “a little help here.”
She nodded towards her sister, who was looking paler by the second.
He placed his hand on Emma’s shoulder, startling her out of whatever she’d been contemplating.
Emma met her gaze. “That’s not entirely true though, is it? We may not have to worry about the coven, but what about the six people who just tried to kill you in your dream?”
She dropped Iris’s hand and stood up. The room was tiny, but still, Emma paced from one end to the other. After a moment, she picked up a bow from the corner and began pulling the string taunt.
Iris watched her sister warily. She’d seen her like this before, but it always meant her mind was going a thousand paces a minute. Emma was the type of person who typically made snap decisions. She acted without considering the consequences.
But now, in this moment, she’d clearly devised some sort of realization that was too big for her to share.
“Iris, I’m sorry,” Emma said at length, “but I think we have to stop looking for Liam.”
What!” Iris flung the blankets from her and stood. Her legs wobbled and she nearly fell. Micah placed a steadying arm around her middle, holding her upright. She mouthed a ‘thank you’ at him before turning her attention back to Emma. “We can’t do that, Emma! Didn’t you hear what I told you? Something’s wrong. I can’t abandon him. Not after seeing him the way I did.”
“And did you ever stop to consider that maybe this whole expedition to save him is a trap? Maybe he’s not worth it!”
Before Iris knew what she was doing, she slapped Emma across the cheek. A bright red welt appeared on her sister’s skin. The moment she’d done it, she regretted it.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. Her head felt as if she were floating and she couldn’t think straight.
Emma’s mouth opened and closed. She blinked rapidly and Iris didn’t know if that was because she was trying to stop herself from crying or if she was just trying to process what had just happened. Either way, it wasn’t good.
“I didn’t mean to,” Iris said as she sank onto her bed. She cradled her head in her hands as she tried to keep herself focused on the conversation. The world swirled around her.
Emma’s shoulders hunched and her face contorted into exaggerated scowl.
“Do you have any idea how scared I was that you weren’t going to wake up?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Do you know what you put us through”—she gestured vaguely towards Micah—“over the past few days? We didn’t know how to help you. We didn’t know if we could. And then you wake up and tell us—” Ahe gestured incoherently and then sighed.
“I know,” Iris said. “I’m sorry.”
Emma laughed. “You are the most important person in my life, Iris. You’re all I have left.” She shrugged and then placed her hand over the mark on her face. “You mean everything to me. Do you understand that?”
A tear ran down her cheek and she batted it away as if it were nothing.
Despite the situation, Iris smiled. Even now, Emma was the strong one. She was braver than she could ever be.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“I understand that you want to save Liam. I do,” Emma said, ignoring her apology. “But I’m not willi
ng to keep putting your life in danger just to rescue someone who may or may not be working to kill us both.”
Iris swallowed hard. Emma was right. They had every reason to doubt Liam. He’d done nothing to help them. If anything, the times he’d appeared in her dreams harkened danger. He could be working with the Silver Skull coven. Or this new threat. Iris didn’t know.
But, in her gut, she did.
She trusted that he wasn’t trying to harm her. She believed that he wanted to be rescued. But she didn’t know how she could make Emma understand. She didn’t have proof that he was on their side. And it scared her how close she’d come to dying.
“We can’t turn back now,” she whispered. “He’s still out there, Emma. And he’s waiting for me.”
“Stars, Iris! You are so fixated on this fantasy of saving him that you don’t even recognize how you sound. He is not your knight in shining armor!”
“I never said he was!”
“We’re not children anymore, Iris. Just because we want something to happen, doesn’t mean it will. If he really wanted you to rescue him, wouldn’t he provide a roadmap or something?”
“He asked me to find him!” she shouted back.
“Yeah? And look where that’s gotten us so far.”
Iris quaked as she tried to control her anger. “At least I’m not so closed off to love that I push away the people who could make me happy!”
Emma stilled.
“That’s not fair,” she said, her voice softening, “and you know it.” She stole a quick glance at Micah, who was steadfastly staring at his hands. The muscle in her jaw twitched when she looked back at Iris. “How can you love someone if you don’t remember them?”
Iris shrank down in her spot. She wanted to provide comfort, but she didn’t have the exact right words to say. She prayed that the Light would grant her sister peace of mind.
“You know I love you. You are my sister and you’ll be my best friend for the duration of my life,” Iris said, “but you have to let me love other people, Emma. You have to let me find my own way.”
“But you could get hurt,” Emma said, her face falling. “I could lose you.”
