by Kova, Elise
“I did…” Vi rested her elbows on her knees and folded her hands. She could almost hear Taavin.
Apparently, Deneya could, too. “Taavin is going to say there needs to be a war, isn’t he?”
“I think so.” In Vi’s world, Vhalla’s father had fought in the War of the Crystal Caverns. His valor in battle earned him a spot in the palace guard—a post which he ultimately gave up for his daughter to become a library apprentice. Which was an appointment that ultimately led to her meet a certain crown prince.
“You have a plan for that?”
“I’ve an idea… but no reason to think it’ll work.”
“Lovely.” Deneya pushed away from the stone, pacing once, then stretching, as if unable to release all the nervous energy tensing her muscles. “Well, this whole scheme of yours hinges on you doing things that have never been done and have no reason to work.”
“You have so much faith in me,” Vi said dryly.
“I do.” Deneya put her hands on her hips. “You know I have faith in the fact that you seem to be able to accomplish anything with sheer force of will.” She shook her head and gave a look around the Caverns; Deneya’s gaze turned skyward before falling back to Vi. “Honestly, I’ve always been rather shocked by this whole ‘ninety-third try’ business. You’ve struck me as the sort of person who can move mountains with nothing but an almost suicidal, ignorant determination.”
“Thank you for saying so, I think.” Vi grinned, an expression Deneya returned in kind. Speaking of sheer force of will, Vi pulled herself to her feet. There was still work to be done. “I intend for this to be the last time, for all of us.”
“As long as it’s the last time because you succeed.”
“Agreed.” Vi rested her hand on a nearby crystal, feeling how the magic within the Caverns had changed once more. It was just like her first experimentation in transferring the sword. Now, she had to take out that power and then some in an act that would make good on another promise—one she’d silently made to herself, and to a man of light, for nearly fifteen years. “Now, may I task you with heading back to our cabin and starting a fire?”
“You may.” Deneya adjusted her heavy winter coat before heading out of the Caverns. “But I take it you won’t be joining me just yet?”
“You know I still have some work to do here.”
“Leave work to the morning; it’s been an exhausting night,” Deneya encouraged.
“No. I want this done before dawn. I suspect that once Egmun and the prince arrive back at the Capital, it won’t be long until the Emperor finds out about what happened here. I want my business with the Caverns to be concluded before then.”
“Concluded?” Deneya echoed skeptically.
Vi chuckled. “Concluded for at least a few decades.”
“A few more decades of living in our cabin. Excuse my uncontrollable excitement.”
“Maybe not in the cabin,” Vi called to Deneya’s retreating form. The woman paused, glancing back. “I think I’d rather go to the beach.”
“The beach?” Deneya balked. Vi laughed at the expression, which proved the levity needed to break up the long night.
“I’ll explain fully later.”
“You’d better. I could use some warmth and sun again and couldn’t bear it if you were merely teasing me.” Deneya paused, almost at the entrance of the Caverns. “Be careful in here. Don’t make me regret leaving you by yourself.”
“I won’t,” Vi called back. With that minimal reassurance, Deneya left. “Right, then.” Vi looked back into the heart of the Caverns, taking a slow breath.
She thought of summoning Taavin, but opted instead to remain silent and alone. Taavin would stop her, and Deneya’s words had made her bold.
Vi went back up the stairs, through the doorway, and into the heart of the Crystal Caverns.
The magic was alive here. It welcomed her, surging through her veins. Vi held out her arms, inviting it to flow into her. This was Yargen’s essence—the power that fueled the seal on Raspian, and the power that would challenge him once more.
Vi stared down at the stones embedded in the floor—the ones that formed the glyph that maintained the dark god’s cage. She walked across them, her steps harmlessly connecting one to the next, until she reached the center of the room. Kneeling down, Vi rested her palms on one of the stones and closed her eyes.
She envisioned the Sword of Jadar. She dredged up memories of the scythe she’d held in another world. She recalled every last detail she could—how the objects felt under her hands, how much power they held.
“We’ll start with that much,” Vi said aloud, speaking to the crystals as though they were a sentient partner. For all Vi knew, they were. They held Yargen’s essence after all; she couldn’t rule out that they also held some of the goddess’s consciousness. “Yargen, help me do this,” she whispered. “I need him at my side.”
Vi lifted her hands from the stone, drawing the magic in shimmering threads up with them. She twisted her left hand, palm to ceiling, and continued feeding magic from her right. Once enough power had collected in her upturned palm, Vi condensed it into a new crystal.
This would be the seed from which Taavin’s new body would grow. She continued to string more magic from the Caverns into the stone, stopping when she’d reached the amount the Sword of Jadar had held.
Glancing to the heavens, Vi uttered one final silent plea to Yargen—Let this work—before continuing.
The crystals in the room flared and dimmed. Magic was drained from the stones along the outer ring of the room. It filled the crystals on the floor. They shone once more, the glyph they made barely visible in the beams of light reaching upward.
Siphoning this power, Vi felt something quiver between each draw off the Caverns.
Raspian could feel the weakening of power that confined him, she was sure. He could feel her. Just as keenly as she could feel him pressing, scraping, reaching, seeking a way out of his prison.
The phantom torment of red lightning cracking through her seared under her skin. She could feel the shadows of scars across her bones from where it had ravaged her body. Vi set her lips into a thin line and fought to keep her focus on her task.
“You’ll be free enough to have your little finger escape,” she said grimly to the dark god, not knowing if he could hear. “No more. No less.”
The outermost stones on the floor began to dim against the brightness of the glowing stone in Vi’s hand. It was a blue brighter than the sky, purer than the ancient ice of glaciers. It was bright enough to illuminate almost the whole of the Caverns and yet, looking into it didn’t hurt. It felt… comfortable. Like staring into the eyes of an old friend.
With a flick of her wrist, Vi flattened her right hand and severed the connection with the Caverns. She could feel the remaining magic settling back into place, spread thinner, like water over a dry riverbed.
Sweat ran in rivulets down her neck and temples. Even in the chill of winter, holding the crystal, holding her focus, was extremely strenuous.
Vi placed the shining stone down gently before her. She ran her hands over it, murmuring, “Kot sorre. Kot sidee.”
Push and pull.
The magic was a tangible thing beneath her fingers. Vi manipulated it like a sculptor. She saw the crystal extend upward and downward. The stones smoothed and curved, taking on new shapes. Vertebrae appeared. Ribs stretched up from them. There were femurs that led to kneecaps, and ultimately toes. Collarbones sat beneath a strong jaw.
A skeleton of crystal was before her. The basis of her vessel. But it was nothing more than crystals in a new shape.
She wanted to lean back, sit on her heels, and catch her breath. But Vi couldn’t allow herself to. Everything was fresh and new, waiting for the next layer of magic to be spun around it.
“Halleth ruta sot. Halleth ruta toff.” Halleth worked to create new flesh on an existing body. Why could it also not create new flesh for a new body?
A voice wh
ispered in the back of her mind. The words were so faint that Vi couldn’t decipher if it was instinct, or Yargen herself encouraging Vi in the right direction. “Mysst ruta sot.”
Mysst, to craft.
Ruta sot, inner flesh.
The words shouldn’t have worked together. But here, in the Caverns, drawing on the raw power of Yargen, combined with Vi’s unshakable determination, they did. It was as if she had the goddess’s blessing to bend the words of the gods to her will.
For the first time, Vi truly made the words her own.
She was reminded of the moment she was rebuilt between worlds. The light intensified to the point that Vi could see nothing else. And from that light, substance took shape. The sensation of her veins unfurling like ribbons from a fresh heart was keen in her mind. Vi felt skin stretching across the form before her like a blanket, warm and safe.
When the light faded, she was left with the body of a man.
Reaching forward, she cupped the cheek of this lifeless body. It was still a vessel. There was no thought, no essence within. But Vi could see her plan taking shape. She could almost feel him there, and wondered if the warmth underneath her palm was the lingering magic in the air… or a fresh body seeking out life.
Vi gripped the watch with her left hand, white knuckled. With her right, she still caressed the man’s face. Her eyes focused there.
Draw him out.
Lifting her hand off the watch as though it were a crystal, the magic of Yargen within followed her motions. She could see it in countless overlapping glyphs that hovered in the air. If she had to guess, there were ninety-three in total. Each one held the memories and essence of a different Taavin, including this one. They all combined together to compose the man she loved so dearly.
“Narro hath loreth.” Vi said the words to imprint a communication mark on the token—to first anchor Taavin’s consciousness into this new vessel. On instinct, she repeated “Hoolo, hoolo,” over and over. Stabilize, elongate, hold. It was the first word Yargen had given her—the word that had truly brought Taavin to her.
Now, she would imprint that word, that glyph, over top of this body. Hold him there. Keep him within it. Let his consciousness be supported by the bedrock of her will and Yargen’s magic.
“Come to me,” Vi murmured as the magic sank into the flat plane of his chest. “Taavin, come to me. Hoolo.”
The body was still, unresponsive.
“Kot sorre. Kot sidee.” She would push and pull the air through his lungs and the blood through his heart. She saw his chest rise and fall with her words. But the moment she stopped, the body was lifeless once more.
“Taavin,” Vi choked out. Exhaustion was knocking at her edges, cracking her resolve. “You can do this, Taavin,” she pleaded, as though it wasn’t all riding on her shoulders. “Yargen, please.” Vi dropped her head to the man’s bare chest, holding him as though he was already Taavin.
Vi took in a quivering breath. She could feel the magic seeping out of him. She could almost see the flesh turning gray and with it, her hopes dimming.
“Narro hath hoolo,” Vi whispered. But what she really meant was, wake up. Please, my love, wake up.
There was a snap, like a tether breaking. Magic sizzled from the watch around her neck and she was thrown back. Her head hit one of the crystals embedded in the stone floor.
Everything went white and Vi blinked away stars with a groan. The sound echoed through the Caverns as she clutched her head, feeling for blood that thankfully wasn’t there.
Twisting onto her side, her vision still hazy, Vi propped herself up onto her elbow.
There was another groan.
But this time the sound hadn’t come from her.
Chapter Eleven
Vi rubbed her eyes. Red lightning popped behind her eyelids and she snapped them open, looking around. The Caverns looked unchanged. But it felt as if the ground had been upturned, and the air had filled with invisible poison.
Her assessment of the environmental change passed when her gaze fell on a very naked man propping himself, his movements stiff.
“T-Taavin?” she asked weakly. For a terrible moment, she was overcome by fear that somehow everything had gone wrong, and she’d given a body to Raspian himself.
But the man brought his gaze to her, and she beheld the eyes that had never shone more brilliantly, set on an unscarred face. She knew it was him before he even spoke.
“Vi.”
Her arm gave out, as though the sound of his voice reverberating through her took the last of her failing strength. Vi slipped back to the ground, but she didn’t cry out. She laughed.
“Vi, are you all right?” Taavin rushed over, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m fine—just tired.” She made it a point to keep her eyes on his and not let them wander anywhere else. Especially further south than his collarbone. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve never felt better. I feel like—” He stopped short and looked down, taking in his full form for the first time. “I’m naked. And cold.”
“Sorry.” Vi laid back, staring up at the ceiling so he knew she wasn’t taking advantage of the situation. “Making a physical vessel for you to occupy was a lot. I didn’t figure out how to fashion clothing at the same time.”
He gently rested a hand on her cheek. Taavin guided her eyes to his. Just the sight of him brought a noise of joy that was part hiccup and part laughter. An icy tear rolled down her temple.
Wordlessly, Taavin shifted, reached forward, and scooped her up. He sat and held her in his arms. His arms. They were sturdy, and stable, and warm. All things that made him distinctly real.
For the first time in over a decade, Vi was home.
She buried her face into the crook of his shoulder and breathed. He still smelled of warm summer days. Vi wasn’t surprised. Yargen’s magic lived in him now. He was made of the light itself.
“What did you do?” His voice was both stern and soothing.
“I made you a body.”
“How?”
“I was inspired by how Yargen made a new body for me between worlds. I tried to mimic the process.”
“Vi, that’s impossible.”
“Clearly not.” She pulled away and looked to the doorway. Her unease only continued to heighten the longer they were in this center chamber of the Caverns. “I drew power from the Caverns, made your bones out of crystals, and wrapped muscle and flesh around them. You always said Yargen’s magic was life,” Vi explained hastily.
“I didn’t mean like this,” he murmured, kissing her temple lightly.
“Deneya wasn’t wrong when she suspected I’ve been practicing. I have been, nightly, since getting to the capital. Transferring the power from the sword to the Caverns wasn’t difficult. Neither was transferring the power from the Caverns to your body, or your consciousness from the watch to that body.” She glossed over her moments of panic. He didn’t need to know about that.
“We don’t know what this means. You’ve never done this before. You could’ve risked my memories if you failed.”
“What’s done is done. And you’re here now.” Vi pulled away to look him in the eye. “I thought this through, Taavin. You want to ensure the world follows the path of the stones in the river. If the Caverns remain strong, there won’t be a War of the Crystal Caverns. So—”
“So you stored the magic of the Sword of Jadar and some from the Caverns in me… to weaken the barrier on Raspian without actually harming or losing any of Yargen’s power.” He admired her with shining eyes. “You’re brilliant. Reckless, but brilliant.”
“Thank you.” The War of the Crystal Caverns was a convenient excuse. Vi hadn’t done this for the world. She’d done it for herself. She didn’t know what pulling Taavin out of the watch would ultimately mean. But since this would be the last version of the world, Vi didn’t worry too much about it. Not that she would say as much to him. “Maybe you’ll start to trust my reckless ideas more.”
; “I likely should.” She didn’t miss the shiver that ripped through him as he spoke.
“We should go.”
“We should,” he agreed.
Yet they had a hard time moving. Standing would mean separating, at least for a little, and neither of them seemed to really want to do that at the moment. Vi could hold him until the day the world ended, now that she had him once more.
“Let’s at least get out of this chamber.” Vi rephrased her earlier statement, forcing them both into action. “We’ve lingered for too long.”
“Yes, lets…” The way Taavin looked around and then scowled at the ground beneath them told Vi everything she needed to know: he felt the terrible aura that now hovered in the air of this place, too.
Vi pushed herself onto her feet and swayed a bit. She was only steady by sheer force of will.
Taavin rushed to her side, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I got you.”
“I’m the one who’s supposed to be helping you.”
“You’ve helped me enough,” he said as they hobbled down the stairs and into the antechamber.
“Here’s good, set me down.” Taavin did as instructed and Vi sat with a heavy sigh. She leaned back against a crystal, willing just a little bit more of Yargen’s magic to seep into her and give her strength. With a thought, fire ignited around them in a semicircle, casting a warm glow over them.
“That’s better.”
“My horse is down at the foot of the mountain.” Vi glanced toward the opening. “I have some clothes there. Nothing will fit you right. But it’ll be something so we can get to the cabin. I just need another minute to regain my strength and then I’ll make my way down.”
“I don’t want you trekking over that icy path in this state. I’ll go.”
Vi laughed at that. “You’ll go? You’ll freeze your bits off.”
“I will not.” He looked at her with a scowl.
“You will.” She grinned in reply. “And I’d rather like those bits to stay attached.” She’d meant it as a jest. But the words were softened by sincerity. Her cheeks were warm, and not because of the fire.
