by Aaron Ehasz
“So, this spell uses a flower?” Soren asked.
“Just close your eyes,” Claudia said. She placed more petals over his eyes.
“At least it’s not gross,” Soren said.
“And the last step has just a tad of grasshopper goop …” Claudia said, pulling out a vial of pale green liquid.
“Ohhh, do we really have to use that?” Soren started to say. But Claudia muffled his protests by shoving the goop into Soren’s mouth. He was easy to manage in this injured state. She sprinkled a green dust over Soren and chanted: “Sbmil eseht ot efil gnirb”
It was an uncommon spell, but Claudia believed it would fix Soren right up. Dark magic filled her body, and she looked up to the sky. Then she channeled all the energy into her fingertips. The magic cascaded over Soren’s body in an arc of glittering sparkles. The petals evaporated. Claudia and Soren watched the sparkly effects.
“Well, that was super pretty,” Soren said. “But I still can’t move.”
Claudia sat silent—momentarily stunned. “You can’t move?” she asked. “Are you sure?” Claudia couldn’t remember the last time dark magic had failed her. Had it ever failed her? Maybe she’d chanted the wrong words … but no, she was positive she’d said them correctly.
“Yeah, pretty sure,” Soren said.
“That should have worked. Hold on, I must have something that will work.” In a panic, Claudia started tearing items out of her bag. There were glass vials filled with every color liquid imaginable and all kinds of animal parts. There was the other eyeball of the griffin, three hairs from a three-toed river-rabbit, greenfish droppings. And not a single item that she could use in this situation.
“Ughhh. That’s all I have for healing,” she said.
Soren didn’t look that worried; in fact, he looked like he didn’t care anymore.
Claudia glared at the nearby soldiers. They were staring at the ground and shuffling their feet. “Don’t just stand there!” she barked. “Help me get him back to town. We need to find a doctor.”
After Viren returned from his journey to the summit, Opeli decided to hold an emergency council meeting. She did not appreciate all the secrecy that seemed to follow Viren wherever he went. She was going to put a stop to him. It’s what King Harrow would have wanted—she was sure of it.
Opeli remembered the time almost five years ago when King Harrow had suggested removing most of the guards from around the castle. He’d wanted the citizens to feel that it was “their castle too.” Opeli laughed a bit to herself when she remembered that crazy idea of his. But she remembered looking around at the council members, all nodding their agreement to what would surely have resulted in an overthrow of the kingdom. Opeli told King Harrow exactly what she thought of this idea. He frowned and stared at her. She thought it was the end of her career.
And then he’d said, “It is clear to me that you serve no king.”
Opeli remembered quaking in her robes, sure she was about to be demoted … or worse.
“The only power you serve is the truth. And that’s why I’m making you head of this council. You were the only person with the courage to stand up to the king. That’s exactly the kind of leadership we need.”
It was a position she had held on to for five years.
A few hours ago, she’d called the current meeting. She hoped to confront Viren in the open, with many people around. But the high mage was conspicuously absent from his usual haunts. His disappearance was a telling sign of a guilty conscience, in Opeli’s opinion. Or at least a sign of fear. He had to be found. It was time to begin the meeting.
“Ahem,” Opeli began. “We must find the high mage.”
The council members looked around, waiting for her to continue.
“It’s come to my attention that Lord Viren has committed treason.” She let that sink in. “He appropriated King Harrow’s seal and sent letters to the other kingdoms. He pretended to be regent of Katolis. As regent, he gathered a summit of the five kingdoms and tried to unite them in war against Xadia.”
Opeli looked around the room. Most of the council members were nodding in agreement. It was inexcusable to steal King Harrow’s seal. Not to mention the disrespect. But one council member was shaking his head.
“What is it, Salir?” Opeli asked.
“I guess I just don’t think what Viren did should be considered treason,” he said.
“Explain yourself,” Opeli barked at him. She’d never liked Salir—he was always looking for shortcuts. But she let him speak.
“Look at the situation we’re in,” Salir said. He addressed himself to all the council members. “Our king was assassinated by Moonshadow elves. Prince Ezran, the presumptive king, has gone missing. No one knows if he is still alive. And even if we do find him alive, Ezran is a child. The kingdom of Katolis is effectively paralyzed—it is a ship without a rudder. I agree, Viren’s means were not highly ethical, but he was trying to protect Katolis.”
“Have you quite finished?” Opeli asked. She didn’t like the way the other council members had started murmuring. Did they think Salir was right?
“I agree with Salir. Katolis is in need of protection,” she said. “But we must go about strengthening the kingdom in the most transparent way possible. We must find the princes and appoint an appropriate regent if that is necessary. That is how we will win the hearts and minds of the other kingdoms. Viren’s lies and treachery reflect poorly on our entire kingdom.”
Opeli could see she had won back her council.
She turned to a guard captain. “Take two men and search for Lord Viren. Search everywhere. He is in this castle. And when you do find him, be ready for anything. Do not underestimate him.”
Time was passing at a strange rate for Callum. It felt like forever since they’d left the dragon. But when Callum realized they were back in the cave, protected from the downpour, it felt like no time had passed at all. He had some vague sense that Rayla and Ezran were busying themselves around the cave, but he couldn’t tell what they were trying to achieve. Callum felt nauseous.
“I’m so uncomfortable,” he moaned. He could really use some sympathy right now. Maybe a cool hand on his forehead and a comforting voice in his ear.
“Uncomfortable with your choice to use dark magic, perhaps?” someone shouted in the distance. Why were people so mean? Callum wondered.
“Rayla!” Ezran shouted. His brother’s voice was awfully harsh too, Callum thought. But then he could feel Ezran’s presence over him, adjusting blankets and stroking his arm. “Is that any better?” Ezran asked.
“Soo uncomfortable,” Callum repeated. And then Ezran disappeared completely, and Callum found himself alone in a room with no windows. What had happened to the cave? Why was he suddenly on a stage? Did he have to give a speech? Callum had terrible stage fright and he was sure he had forgotten something very important.
A bright light hit Callum in the eyes, and he squinted. There was a spotlight on him, coming from somewhere high above. He looked down. He was lying on a bed of thousands of golden keys.
Callum was on a stage, but there was no one in the audience. This bed of keys was a horrible resting place. Sharp pieces of metal poked into Callum’s back. He sat up, reached down, and grabbed a few of the keys. They were light as air. He watched the keys flow off his hand and into space. Gravity played by different rules in this place. He heard an irritating buzz somewhere beneath him. There was some large, glowing object hidden among the keys. Callum gasped.
“Something’s down there,” he said.
Callum reached around until his fingers latched onto a glowing rune cube. It was similar to the Key of Aaravos, but it wasn’t quite the same. One of the sides glowed red.
Callum turned the cube frantically to see which primal was glowing. How could any of the primals glow in this dark place? But none of the primal runes were on this cube. Sky, Moon, Earth, Sun, Ocean, and Stars had all been replaced with a single rune symbol Callum had seen only once before—on Cl
audia’s spell book. The rune’s red glow burned Callum’s eyes.
Something about this cube tied his stomach in knots. It wasn’t natural. A vision flickered in front of his face. Dozens of dead animals in a field. A dead butterfly. A dead deer. A dead unicorn. Cackling laughter.
“Nooooo!” Callum yelled.
He chucked the cube away from him with all his might. The glowing rune was dark magic. It represented death.
About fifty feet away, a cloaked figure stood in another spotlight. It reached its hand up and, in a single, swift motion, it caught the flying cube.
Callum lifted himself from the bed of keys and slowly walked toward the cloaked figure. He could hear his own footsteps echoing as he walked. He slowed his pace when he neared the figure, nervous to get too close.
“Who are you?” Callum asked.
But he received no response.
Callum held his breath as the cloaked figure began to turn around. Slowly, the shadowy figure pulled down the hood of his cloak, and Callum found he was looking at himself. He was alarmed at first, but his nerves calmed when the cloaked version spoke to him kindly.
“Callum, don’t be frightened,” Cloaked Callum said.
“I’m not frightened, just confused,” Callum said. He scratched the back of his head.
“Of course, you’re frightened,” Cloaked Callum said. “You tried dark magic for the first time. No one expects that to be easy.”
“But that’s the thing,” Callum said, looking away. “It was easy. It was too easy. Even though I know it’s wrong.” Callum shrugged. He couldn’t believe how much simpler it had been to unchain the trapped dragon than connect to the Sky arcanum.
“But is it really so wrong?” Cloaked Callum asked.
“Yes,” Callum said. He believed it with all his heart.
“Is it though?” Cloaked Callum asked. He twirled the dark magic rune cube.
“Yes.”
“Is it?”
“YES!!” Callum yelled at himself. He crossed his arms in anger.
“Callum, look at me,” Cloaked Callum said. “You’re looking at yourself. You need to accept your destiny.”
“I can’t accept that dark magic is my destiny,” Callum said. He shook his head vigorously.
“You’re a human,” Cloaked Callum said. “You weren’t born with an arcanum to do primal magic, but you were born to do magic. The kind of magic humans can do.” Cloaked Callum held the rune cube out to Callum. All six sides were glowing with the dark magic rune. “You can have unlimited power. And you can choose what to do with that power. You can make a real difference in the world. All you need to do now is accept that your destiny is already written.” Cloaked Callum held the glowing cube out to Callum again, urging him to take it. “Accept your destiny.”
Maybe he was right? Maybe Callum could make a difference in the world using dark magic. After all, Callum had saved Rayla and freed the dragon with dark magic. Those were good deeds, weren’t they? And he never would have been able to do it with primal magic. He’d tried so hard to connect to the Sky arcanum. It just wasn’t working.
Callum slowly reached toward the cube. But before he touched it, a different voice interrupted him.
“Callum. You are free.”
Callum whipped his head around. It was his stepfather speaking. King Harrow was sitting on his throne, wearing the clothes Callum had last seen him in. But he was covered in chains that were strapped across his ankles, waist, and chest.
“You are free from both the past and the future,” King Harrow said. “Nothing is written in stone. Fate is a lie. You are free.”
Suddenly, Cloaked Callum was standing between King Harrow and Callum. He was shaking his head knowingly. “Look inside yourself, Callum. Dark magic is your destiny. You can’t deny it.”
Callum looked back and forth between the mirror image of himself and his stepfather. His stepfather had wanted to change the world … and look what had happened. He’d ended up trapped in the age-old cycle of violence.
Callum reached out to take the rune cube. As his fingers drew closer to the dark magic cube, he expected that the moment he grasped it he would feel some sense of relief, simply accepting his destiny and his power. But an instant before his fingers touched the cube, he glimpsed something he knew was the horrifying truth. Cloaked Callum’s face suddenly distorted and became gaunt, with dark pits in the places where his eyes should have been. The hand that was holding the cube changed before his eyes. The skin shrank and tightened until it appeared as if only bones held the object. Cloaked Callum opened his mouth wide to laugh, revealing a set of rotting teeth.
Callum dropped his hand. His eyes narrowed, and he backed away from the rune cube. “No,” he said. “I get to choose who I want to be.”
“Your destiny is already written,” Cloaked Callum said, a little more loudly this time. He shoved the cube in Callum’s face.
But Callum’s resolve was firm now. He regained control. “No … destiny is a book you write yourself!”
The declaration seemed to strike Cloaked Callum like a dozen daggers. The glow of the dark magic cube faded and he dropped it. An abyss appeared out of nowhere to swallow it up. Then Cloaked Callum shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, crumbled, and disappeared.
Callum breathed out a sigh of relief. He took a moment to compose himself, and then turned to King Harrow. “That was horrifying,” Callum said.
King Harrow shrugged. “It’s your dream, kid.”
Ezran watched Callum tossing and turning all night in a feverish sweat. He was very worried. At one point, Callum rolled over, sat up, looked Ezran in the eye, and shouted, “Who are you?!” Then he crumpled to the cave floor.
This was one of the creepiest parts of the journey so far. Ezran was scared for his brother. Would Callum ever be himself again?
Everything felt a little more hopeful in the morning light. Then Ezran heard a soft but distinct rustle coming from outside the cave. Someone—or something—was stalking them.
He looked at Rayla. What should we do?
She put her finger to her lips and drew her weapons.
“Who’s there? Show yourself or I’ll greet you with my pointy friends!” Rayla shouted.
Ezran peeked out from around the cave opening. He saw a tall, strong man with a weapon attached to a chain. The man had dark skin and jet-black curly hair. Did he know this man? He seemed familiar.
“You,” Rayla said. She stopped to size the man up. Rayla seemed to know him too.
Then the man saw Ezran. He placed his weapons on the ground and raised both his hands.
“I’m not here to fight,” he said to Ezran. “General Amaya—I mean, your aunt Amaya—sent me. My name is Corvus.” He walked slowly toward Ezran, who nodded at Rayla to let her know to stand down. She narrowed her eyes, but let Corvus pass.
Corvus paused when he got near Ezran. A strange quiet hung in that pause, and somehow Ezran felt that this moment was a cusp, though he didn’t know what was coming next.
Then Corvus dropped to one knee and bowed.
“I am here to serve the king,” he said.
Ezran stood frozen and confused. What is he doing? My father is the king.
“King Ezran,” Corvus said.
“But I’m not the king. I’m just a prince,” Ezran said, even though the realization was starting to set in. “My dad is king.”
Corvus was silent. Ezran started to panic. “Wait, that’s not what you’re saying? He isn’t …” Ezran inhaled deeply and looked over at Rayla, who was tearing up.
Why was she crying? It couldn’t be that his father was dead.
Rayla had known. Maybe she’d known all along.
“No. No, no, no!!” Ezran shouted. He didn’t care if he sounded like a two-year-old.
“Ezran. It’s going to be okay,” Rayla started to say.
That was about the dumbest thing anyone could possibly say, Ezran thought. Nothing was ever going to be okay again.
“
You knew,” Ezran said. He felt like a dumb little kid. “Oh, I’m an idiot. I should have figured it out.” He slapped his forehead. “When we met you, you had two of those assassin ribbon things. And then one came off that night.” His father had been dead this entire time.
Rayla nodded. “That’s right. That must have been when he fell,” she said.
“Fell,” Ezran said. He felt his face tighten in anguish. She didn’t even have the guts to say the words.
“Yes,” Rayla said. She made no attempt to hold back her tears.
“Fell?” Ezran repeated. Now his face felt hot with anger. “He didn’t fall, Rayla! He didn’t trip and land on the ground. He got killed.” Then he looked over at his brother, writhing on the cave floor. “Callum. Does he know yet?”
“He knows,” Rayla said.
Ezran shook his head, still in disbelief. Everyone had known about his dad, and they’d all been keeping it from him. Did they think he couldn’t handle his father’s death? He was king now—he was going to have to handle a lot of serious problems.
“I’m going for a walk,” Ezran said. He had to get away from Rayla.
As he stomped out of the cave Corvus stood up, in his way.
“I can’t let you go alone,” Corvus said.
Ezran stared Corvus down. Corvus couldn’t tell him what to do. No one could anymore. “If I am the king, then you must let me go,” he said.
Corvus immediately backed down. But Rayla jumped in front of Ezran.
“You’re not my king,” Rayla said. “But you are my friend, and I’m coming with you.”
“Rayla, please. Just let me go be alone. Please.”
For the first time Ezran could remember, Rayla backed off.
Zym trotted off to follow Ezran. Ezran didn’t have the heart to yell at him. But Bait nudged Zym gently and brought him back to the cave by the scruff of his neck.
Claudia sat slumped over in the hospital waiting room. The first hospital they found was in the tiny border town, and the waiting room did nothing to inspire confidence. Some of the wooden beams were rotting, the floors were covered in mud and grime, and the patients all looked miserable. But the waiting room was next to Soren’s room, so Claudia could watch the doctor examining Soren in his bed.
