by Elise Kova
“You’ve been on the Crescent Continent longer than I. Do they have a cure?” Vi shook her head. “Then them summoning me to discuss a cure was a lie.” Vi glanced at her father, filing that information away. Who had summoned him? Ulvarth, or the queen? Had Taavin known? Her heart protested against that last question. “Let’s go home.”
“But mother…”
“Your mother is strong. The strongest woman I have ever met.” Nothing short of wonder, admiration, and love filled his voice. Vi watched as her father gazed out to sea, his brow softening. Only to nearly choke on his next words. “But I have been away from her long enough, and if ill is to befall her, I should be by her side, as she would seek to be by mine.”
“But I can save her,” Vi reiterated, stressing each word.
“How? Daughter, I believe you can move mountains. But I need your help filling in the blanks of how you believe so adamantly that you can accomplish something the most skilled clerics and sorcerers on the Main or Crescent Continents have not.”
“Have you ever heard of the Champion of Yargen?”
“I can’t say I have.”
Vi chewed on her lower lip a moment, trying to figure out her next words. She knew of the rise of the Mad King and the fall of the Crystal Caverns. It would be an understandably trying topic for her father. How could she broach it all without sounding as though she blamed him? She didn’t, of course. No one knew what the Crystal Caverns really were and it was not his fault they had been opened.
“Long ago, Yargen—we know her as the Mother, and Raspian—we know him as the Father, were at war.”
“At war?”
“Yes, well, the Crones of the Sun got their stories a little twisted at some point in history. They’re not lovers; they’re sworn enemies. Anyway, when the war was over, Yargen won and sealed Raspian away. That seal was broken, and he’s back now. He’s behind the White Death.”
“If you stop him, or seal him away again, the White Death goes away too?” Vi gave a nod. That was the same logic she had used—the same thought she’d hung all her hopes on these past months. “But how can you accomplish such a task?”
“Well…” Vi picked at the hem of her tattered, sun-bleached shirt. “Because I am Yargen’s new Champion.”
“You?”
“Yes, and because—hold on.”
Vi scrambled to her feet. She had to prove to him she wasn’t talking madness. Heart pounding against her chest, Vi sprinted over to the cabin, quietly leaned in so as not to disturb Taavin’s slumber, and grabbed the scythe. She returned, sitting back down and setting it between them. Her father regarded the bundle warily and Vi took a deep breath.
“I think—know—I can defeat him because I am Yargen’s Champion. Taavin is her Voice; he can hear her words and knows how to get to the flame of Yargen in Risen. That’s the other piece of Yargen’s power.” Vi knew she was talking too fast, but couldn’t slow down. She was working up to this moment and her words were in a race with her heart. “And because I have this.”
Vi undid the straps wrapped around the scythe, pulling back the fabric covering it. Even in the bright, early morning light, it sparkled and shone with a magic that filled her with delight and hope.
At least it did until her father scrambled backward, looking on in horror.
“Throw it overboard,” he demanded.
“Father—”
“That, Vi, is not the solution. That is the problem.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I know what this is,” Vi insisted.
“You clearly do not.” Aldrik reached forward, hesitated with his hand hovering above the pole of the scythe, then made up his mind. He grasped it, but not before Vi gripped it with both her hands on either side of his. She held on firmly as he tried to wrench it away and make good on his demand to throw it overboard. “If you knew what this was, you would not be holding it in the first place. Now let it go, Vi.”
She knew that tone. It was the same tone that would have had her shaking as a child. But she wasn’t a child any longer.
“No. You need to listen to me, Father.”
“Vi—”
“Listen, please,” Vi pleaded. But she knew that alone wouldn’t be what got through to him. Vi knew she had to prove she wasn’t the reckless child he thought she was. “I know this is a crystal weapon and I know their history. I know Mother found a crystal weapon that led to the rise of the Mad King and the destruction of the crystal caverns.”
“Do you know it was that same crystal weapon that stole her powers?” Aldrik’s voice lowered, becoming sterner by the moment.
“What?” Vi breathed.
“Do you know it was a crystal weapon that also began the War of the Crystal Caverns before the Mad King?”
She didn’t. Her father was pointing out dangerous gaps in her knowledge left and right. “No,” Vi said calmly, leveling her eyes with her father’s. “I don’t know those things, though I would like to. What I do know is that the Crystal Caverns are gone. All the other Crystal Weapons—fragments of Yargen’s power—are gone with it. And this may be the last thing we have to stand against an evil god trying to destroy this world as we know it.”
They engaged in a staring contest. Vi didn’t back down. Her father sighed heavily, releasing the scythe and staggering away as though it had wounded him.
“Neither of us should be touching it…” he murmured, running a hand through his dark, limp hair. “You may have gotten recklessness and stubbornness from your mother, but damn if I didn’t pass along that fire in your belly.”
Vi felt somewhat proud. Continuing her efforts to calm the situation, she acquiesced to his request, slowly laying down the scythe.
“I think I’m able to touch it without issue since I have Yargen’s magic—I’ve felt normal handling it for some time now. But you’re likely right in that you should limit your contact.” Vi didn’t know if the scythe could taint him in the way the crystals of the Crystal Caverns were said to have tainted men who had come in contact with them. The scythe had been removed from the Dark Isle so early, perhaps it had escaped the slow weakening of the barriers holding back Raspian and the affects of his powers on the crystal.
It was a plausible theory. But to test it, Vi would have to risk the crystals twisting her father into a monster. So she wasn’t about to find out if she was right or not.
Aldrik settled back into his earlier seat. Vi glanced at Arwin over her shoulder, but whatever thoughts the woman had about the outburst, she was keeping them to herself. Luckily, Taavin hadn’t seen Aldrik nearly throwing their one crystal weapon overboard. She didn’t want him to have a negative impression of her father.
“Vi, nothing good comes of a Solaris touching a crystal weapon.”
“Father, I—”
“It was a crystal weapon that sparked a whole new thirst for conquest in my father.”
“How?”
“Our family has a dark history tied to these. One we cannot seem to escape.” Her father stared at the scythe as though it had hypnotized him. “Your great grandfather held one in his vaults—a crown stolen by Adela that was later recovered by my brother.”
“Uncle Baldair fought Adela?” Vi had heard stories of Baldair’s prowess with the sword. Still, she couldn’t imagine anyone without magic standing against Adela.
“No. I found out much later he discovered it in an old pirate hideaway one summer at Oparium.” Aldrik sighed heavily. Talk of his late brother always cast a cloud over him. Usually, Vi would change the subject. But this was the first time she couldn’t afford to spare her father from these thoughts; she needed the truth. “But it was brought back, and my father eventually learned of that crown. He thought he could use it to someday conquer the Crescent Continent…”
“Grandfather was born with a taste for conquest,” Vi tried to say as delicately as possible.
“It was a crystal weapon that led to my mother’s death.”
“What?” Vi had to open and close her mouth several
times before she finally found words. “She died in childbirth.”
“So the official story goes. But it was really because she was the last head of the Knights of Jadar.”
“The extremist group?”
“They weren’t always so.” She’d been taught as much. But it was still odd to hear. “My mother as the head of the knights was said to have been in possession of their sacred relic—the Sword of Jadar, which was—”
“A crystal weapon,” Vi finished with a whisper. “And then mother found the axe.” Sword, axe, crown, scythe. They were all accounted for. And all of them had passed through her family’s hands.
“Fiera was ultimately killed by men who sought to unleash the powers of the caverns. She died protecting that sword.”
“Was the sword destroyed in the rise and fall of the Mad King as well?” Vi asked delicately. Her hushed tones had little to do with Arwin. Her father’s eyes seemed more sunken and haunted with every word, despite his voice remaining level. These were old wounds, yet they still oozed.
“No, it was destroyed when I used it to kill a man. And with that act, I began the War of the Crystal Caverns.”
“You…” Vi placed a hand on the deck, leaning, trying to catch her father’s eyes. But he avoided her gaze at every turn. “Father, you—”
“It’s the truth, Vi,” he spoke firmly, leaving no room for doubt. “I was taken to the caverns. I was misled. But that is no excuse. It was my hand and my actions that led to the death and suffering of our people—that helped pave the way for your mother to be used as a tool and nearly die in search of that same power. Now you—” Aldrik reached upward, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her gently “—you wield one as well. And I will not see you suffer the same fate. These weapons attract lies as easily as foolish, power-hungry men.”
Tears shone in his haunted eyes. Vi’s lips parted, but no sound escaped. She was held in place by her father and by the weight of his truths.
“Father, this is different,” she finally insisted, her voice weaker than she would’ve liked.
“Is it? Or is this just another turn of a vortex that every Solaris will drown in?”
Vi didn’t have an answer. She wanted to. She desperately wanted to. But nothing came. And, as if sensing the crack in her determined exterior, her father continued.
“Leave this behind and come back to the Main Continent with me. Return to your family.”
“I…”
“Vi, please. I have longed for our family to be together as much as you have. Leave the world to the hands of fate.” His father’s arms tightened around her, pulling her to him. “Leave it all behind, and come home with me.”
Vi closed her eyes, returning her father’s embrace. No matter how old she became, part of her would always be the girl soothed by her parents’ arms.
“Vi…”
She whispered, “I’ll talk to Taavin about starting a course for Norin.”
Her father tightened his grasp, holding her to the point of pain—though Vi couldn’t tell if the ache came from his hold, or from within.
She was behind the helm, adjusting course slightly. The wood was weathered and worn, ashen from the beating sun. Vi felt the same heat on her cheeks, deepening the natural tan of her skin.
On her left was Meru and the end of the world she was expected to meet. On her right, across the Shattered Isles, was the Dark Isle and her waiting family. At her feet was the scythe that was part of a far more bloody history than she fully understood.
And she was trapped between them all.
Movement below deck wrenched her back to reality from her tangle of thoughts. A familiar mess of dark hair emerged from the cabin, the late afternoon sun picking up purple notes as the sky turned to red. The days were undeniably shorter now. Vi would bet they only had six or seven hours of daylight now—a change too dramatic to have anything to do with the summer months stretching toward winter.
“My father?” she asked as Taavin approached.
“Asleep. It seems to be restful,” Taavin said softly.
“Arwin?” Vi had expected Taavin to emerge the moment Arwin entered the cabin after Vi had offered to take the second shift. But he hadn’t, and Vi had been too grateful for the silence to investigate.
“Asleep on the floor.” Vi gave him a look and Taavin let out a low chuckle. “I was just as shocked.”
“I expected her to kick you from your cot.”
“Me too.” Taavin looked out over the bow of the boat, where Vi’s eyes remained transfixed. “How long until Risen?”
“If we go straight there… perhaps two days?” Vi answered delicately.
“Why wouldn’t we go straight there?” Taavin shifted mostly in front of her, making it impossible for her to avoid his piercing stare.
“I was thinking of making a quick stop in Norin.”
“No.”
“It would only add two—three days.”
“Vi—”
“We can drop off my father.” She decided not to bring up the fact that her father had begged her not to go onward with her plans to seek out her destiny involving the scythe.
“We risk being caught.” Taavin frowned. “Moreover, what makes you think your father will let you go once he has you back on the Dark Isle?”
“I’m his daughter, not his prisoner.”
“You’re right, a prisoner would be better because he’d care much less about a prisoner.”
Vi rolled her eyes and looked away, doing anything to avoid his gaze. “I don’t want to bring him to Risen,” she finally whispered.
“Why?”
“Because it was someone in Risen who contacted him—claiming they had a cure for the White Death.” The surprise on Taavin’s face reassured her that he hadn’t known. It didn’t rule out Ulvarth; in fact, Vi’s bet would still be on the Lord of the Faithful. But she took solace in the knowledge that Taavin had no hand in this particular machination of Ulvarth’s. “Why do they want him?”
“I don’t know.” Taavin shook his head. “I had no idea he was summoned.”
“Then I’m inclined to believe it’s not a good reason.” Vi stressed. “I always told you that you’d have my undivided attention to figure out the watch—the scythe—as soon as my father is safe.”
“But your father will always be at risk.” Taavin grabbed the helm, standing right in front of her. “How long will you make the world wait in the name of your personal problems?”
“As long as it has to, because a world without my family is not a world I want to live in.”
“None of us may have a world if you keep dallying.”
“I am not dallying.” Vi glared up at him and fought to keep her voice hushed.
“Every delay brings us closer to the end. Raspian’s power is growing exponentially by the day. You’ve seen it. You must surely feel it, perhaps better than I. You can’t deny it. And yet you stall.”
They were in a deadlock, each holding a peg on the helm’s wheel. Vi gripped and released the wood several times. It felt as though they were now at the moment when he would turn the wheel west, and she would spin it east.
There was a weighted, heavy sensation. Every nerve-ending firing. The spark was alive under her skin, flushing, radiating heat.
This moment had weight to it.
It was the same sensation she felt before they had entered the Isle of Frost. Perhaps their every decision now carried so much weight that nearly each choice affected the outcome of the world. Maybe this was how an Apex of Fate was formed.
The thought sparked an idea.
“Let’s let the future decide.” Vi was acting on a hunch.
“What?”
“I’ll look into the future. I have the scythe. The watch has been broken, some of Yargen’s power unleashed. Perhaps I will see a vision; perhaps I can command them now.” Vi released the wheel, giving it to him. Taavin regarded her warily.
“And if you don’t?”
“Then we’ll keep arguing aft
er.” Vi sat, holding the scythe in one hand. “It can’t hurt to try.”
Before Taavin could say anything else, she summoned a flame in the palm of her other hand. The bright, yellow fire burned on and around her palm, snaking through her fingers. She held it at eye level, staring, waiting expectantly.
“Vi, I don’t think…”
“It will work,” she insisted. “I will make it work.” Her grip on the scythe tightened. A shot of energy went straight through her—from the hand holding the scythe to the hand holding the flame. It tinged the flame with blue, barely visible at the edges.
“What the—” Taavin’s voice was lost as Vi was pulled into a vision.
The world blurred and overexposed before slowly fading back into place. Things were hazier than normal. Nothing seemed sharp. Vi squinted, trying to make out the shapes being painted into a dark reality.
There was an arc of blue in the darkness, and a flash of red. The blade of the scythe came into focus first, floating mid-air, quivering with her strain as she tried to push it through a tangle of red lightning.
The blue-green magic that swirled within the blade illuminated her bruised and bloodied face. She had a split lip and swollen eye, and blood streamed down her temple to her cheek from trauma hidden by her matted hair.
Out of the darkness, a figure emerged opposite her future self. The lightning was his forearm, his face the haunted, skeletal visage of death itself. His hair writhed like snakes, silvery like moonlight. His mouth was a perpetually open maw of razor-sharp teeth.
The man’s gaze shifted away from Vi’s future self and toward her—as though he could look straight at her.
Raspian saw her.
Vi took an involuntary step back, though she didn’t know how she would escape even if she wanted to.
In the vision, lightning cracked through the scythe. It shattered into a thousand pieces, magic propelling outward in a shock wave. Raspian grabbed for the throat of her future self and his nightmarish mouth ripped soft flesh from bone.
The Vi facing off against the dark god collapsed, grabbing her throat and gasping. She gasped as well, her consciousness blurring between reality and the Vi she witnessed die. Then, the air that filled her lungs was salty. Her throat was in one piece. And Taavin’s face appeared over her.
