Heartless Heirs

by MarcyKate Connolly

  A strange sort of awe fills me, followed by confusion. “But where are the alchemicals themselves?” I ask.

  Catoria gestures at the air. “They’re all around you. They’re a part of everything. Magic, life, death. The trick is to pull just the right ones with our magic and tools and combine them to make new things.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  “You will. Some of our oldest, most potent spells use alchemicals,” she says. “Come, there’s one more thing I wish to show you. Then we can return to the library and I will answer more of your questions. I know you have many.”

  “That’s for sure,” Zandria mutters under her breath.

  Catoria brings us to yet another room, this one full of flowering plants and trees bearing leaves in a multitude of unexpected colors. An underground river slices through the room, cutting it almost in half. On one side magical sunlight illuminates a dais, on which rests a shallow basin held up by three carved marble legs. Catoria takes us directly to the basin.

  “This is a scrying pool.” She presses one of the clear stones inlaid on the edge of the basin. Gears shift and a drawer slides out of the base. Resting inside are two rows of ten amulets, all made from the magic-infused black marble. Each is inscribed with a name. I immediately recognize our family name—Donovan—as well as Darian’s Azul. Catoria selects Donovan and dips it into the basin. Then she murmurs a spell and waves her hands over the water.

  The water shimmers and swirls, then stops in a strange, sudden manner. At first, I think I’m staring at our reflection, but the angle is all wrong. It’s a vision of Zandria and me standing in this cave with Remy and Catoria in real time. I can see my shocked face as I realize what I see. Zandria’s mouth goes slack as well.

  “You can spy on people with this,” Remy says. “That’s quite useful.”

  “Indeed, it has been. You need something of the person you wish to see to put into the pool, and you must know the correct spell, of course.” She places her hand on the drawer containing the amulets. “These amulets are infused with blood from each family committed to the Alchemist Alliance who also underwent the experiments. If blood from one of these families flows in your veins, the scrying pool will track you when the spell is cast.”

  “So you knew who we were ahead of time? Even what we looked like?” I say.

  “I’ve been watching you two and your parents since you were both younglings.” She frowns. “I was saddened to discover your parents had been killed. One day they stopped showing in the pool. I watched them grow up, fall in love. They seemed like kind people.” She waves her hand. “But I have seen many killed over the years. It is always sad, but never surprising.”

  My fingers whisper over the other amulets. “What about the rest of them?”

  “Are there any others like us?” Zandria asks. That would surely be something, if there were more Magi with our unique magic.

  But Catoria shakes her head while wearing a grim expression. “I’m afraid only you have evolved to the final stage of progression. Yours is one of the few families left.”

  A chill sweeps over me. “How many are left?”

  Catoria picks up three amulets, her hand hesitating over a fourth, obscuring the name. I wonder if that last one was my mother’s line or that of Masia Harkness, and she’s not accustomed to it no longer being active. My stomach flips.

  “There are three bloodlines remaining: Donovan, Azul, and Heldreth. Though through you, your mother’s line lives on. Hers was the Moss family.” She picks up that fourth amulet and holds it in her hand for a moment before setting it back down. My suspicion is confirmed.

  “Only three?” Remy says, surprised. “What happened?”

  “The Technocrats, mostly. The first two were discovered by the Magi at the start of the First Techno-Magi War and executed for treason. But more than half of those who died since perished in the Technocrats’ dungeons.”

  I shudder and so does Zandria. We’re both thinking of the same thing: those terrible metal suits.

  “Do you know what the Technocrats do to the Magi?” she asks us.

  “We do.” I wish we didn’t.

  Catoria nods. “It is a terrible, cruel punishment. For merely existing. They fear what they don’t understand. This is why we must heal the rift between our peoples. We must become one again, or this strife will never end.”

  Silence falls over us for a moment. The Alliance’s aim has always been to bridge the divide between Technocrat and Magi. But the Armory’s goal was to destroy the Technocrats’ stranglehold on these lands. To destabilize our adversary and take back the power for ourselves. The Alliance never saw the relationship between our peoples as adversarial; they saw it as diverging. And something that could possibly be merged again, whether through science or diplomacy.

  I can’t deny that there’s something strangely appealing about the idea, though my gut instinct is to revolt at the notion. We all know what happened to the Alliance and the Magi in the end.

  Catoria clears her throat. “There were a handful of others in the Alliance bloodlines who didn’t survive the experiment. Once pregnant, the mother had to ingest alchemicals to further the mutation process for the next generation. But they were poisonous, which is why each couple had to be bonded with the Binding rite to ensure the mother’s and baby’s survival. Unfortunately, two of those bloodlines were not strong enough.”

  “Wasn’t there any other way?” I ask. It seems an awful thing to ask of someone. To risk their lives on a hunch.

  “No, this was the only way.” She glances up at us and our horrified faces, then—to our surprise—laughs. “You seem shocked. Have you never felt so certain of the righteousness of a cause that you would give your own life for it?”

  Her words are a slap. Of course we have. We’re all Magi spies. We risked our lives every day just by living in Palinor. But we did it to save our people . . . and I suppose that’s exactly what the Alchemist Alliance believed. Just in a different way.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but please understand. No one was forced into this. Every one of these families volunteered and had the option to back out at any time. They were all informed of the risks, and they decided the reward was worth it.” Now she smiles warmly and stretches her arms out toward us. “Their risks made your existence possible.”

  I shiver. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Until recently, I never had any idea what caused our magic to be different. Our parents told us they didn’t know, but that we must have evolved. I suppose in their minds they were only telling us as much truth as we could handle at such a young age. But now that we know, we bear the responsibility of being the only Alliance bloodline to evolve and survive. A thought strikes me.

  “You said there is a third Alliance bloodline remaining—what is it called again? How many are left? And where are they?”

  “The Heldreth line. There is one left, a boy around your age, I think. His name is Owen.”

  Zandria’s eyes widen. “But he isn’t . . . evolved . . . like us?” My sister is struggling to accept this concept. I know it isn’t easy to swallow.

  Catoria shakes her head. “Sadly, no.”

  “Where can we find him?” I say. If we’re not all that’s left of the free Magi, that feels like a minor miracle. And if this person happens to be part of the Alliance as well, that can only work in our favor.

  She grimaces. “He is a little more difficult to reach. His parents were nearly caught by the Technocrats years ago but managed to escape. They decided it wasn’t worth the risk of raising their son on this continent, so they set sail across the ocean in search of rumored lands. But they didn’t reach them. Instead, they used their magic to raise a massive island, uncharted on any map, to make their home. They coaxed trees and vegetables from the soil, fished in the sea, and raised their son there. From time to time, they’d go ashore for certain supplies but never stayed long. Sometimes they took Owen with them, but once he was old enough, they insisted he rema
in on the island. The last time his parents made the voyage, they never returned. They were caught and thrown in the dungeons and died soon after.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “That’s horrible.” Just like us, this poor boy lost his parents much too soon. His due to the Technocrats’ cruelty, ours because our parents dared to defy Darian and his schemes. All of them died to keep their children safe. To ensure that one day, an evolved Magi would walk these lands with the full power of their ancestors. That they’d usher in a new age where we could live in peace.

  A weight settles on my shoulders. I don’t know how Zandria and I will match their expectations. We only barely escaped Palinor and failed to save the Magi in the Chambers. Though while our setbacks may have shaken my confidence, that doesn’t mean we won’t try.

  We have to. We need to save our people. Apparently, that also means we must save the Technocrats from themselves.

  That is a very tall order.

  “Can you show him to us?” Remy asks.

  Catoria picks up one of the amulets and dips it into the water, then recasts the spell. The water reacts as before: shimmering, swirling, then suddenly becoming as still as glass. It shows a boy with brown hair worn long and a bit wild. He stands on a dock; behind him lies a forest. He’s fishing with his magic, weaving his hands over the water and bringing the fish up onto the wooden planks of the dock. He only takes as much as he needs for himself, then cleans them deftly and returns to the woods.

  “So he lives on that island all alone now?” Zandria says.

  “Yes,” Catoria says.

  “Well, that’s terrible. We can’t just leave him there,” she says.

  “Indeed, he would be useful,” Catoria says. “Anyone indoctrinated into the Alliance is a boon to our cause. And he might have useful information as well. Every Alliance family had spell books they handed down and kept secret even after the Magi fell. The ones he inherited might contain spells we need.”

  “Then we should definitely go after him when we’re done here,” Remy says. “We need all the Magi we can get, and if they have new spells too, all the better.”

  Our new mentor nods her approval. “Bring him here, and I will teach him.”

  “Darian,” I say suddenly. “Show us Darian.” It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him and learn what he’s up to.

  Catoria frowns. “Darian is a disappointment. He was promising. He even fell in love with a Technocrat. I’ve watched him for a long time. Once I believed he would be dedicated to our cause. But he has turned on his own kind, and that is unacceptable.”

  “We need to stop him,” Zandria says. “He’s doing terrible things to other Magi.” She spits out the words as if they taste as foul as they sound.

  “Yes, you must. I have seen what he’s done. It goes against everything the Magi and the Alchemist Alliance stand for.”

  She recasts the spell using the Azul amulet and the water soon shows us a scene in Palinor’s Palace. Darian is in the throne room—I’d recognize that blood-red marble anywhere—meeting with the king and queen. We can’t hear what they’re saying, but Darian appears livid, while the king and queen seem to be brushing him off. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him rattled like this. I hope it has something to do with Aro’s efforts to thwart Darian’s plans.

  How I wish I had an amulet with Aro’s blood so I could see him again, even just for a moment. More than anything, I need to know he’s safe. But if Darian isn’t happy and Aro’s parents are still alive, perhaps that bodes well for his safety. I hope so.

  Zandria hovers near Catoria, her curiosity finally appearing to win out over the sight of the man who inflicted so much damage to her in the dungeons.

  “What exactly were the experiments those Alliance members underwent?” Zandria asks.

  Remy is still examining the pool, watching Darian’s activities, but I join their conversation. “Our parents died before they could tell us about the Alchemist Alliance. We only found out because they wrote us a letter that covered the basics.”

  “First things first then, I suppose. The Alliance’s experiments used alchemicals, which are building blocks of magic from the old world. They are crafted through secret recipes that only a few know. This library contains the most complete record of them. They were used by the ancient Magi until the schism, where they lost the ability to impact inanimate matter with their magic. They believed the alchemicals had become useless, and using them fell out of practice, then out of memory. They were only an ancient legend when the Alliance made their expedition here to the Sanctuary. But we were rewarded greatly, more than we had imagined possible.”

  My mind reels. “Sorry, are you saying alchemicals are what made the ancient Magi powers possible?”

  “Sort of. It’s what they used when they needed to combine magic and man-made things. Like the marble in this place.”

  “So only people with those full powers could use alchemicals.” Zandria tilts her head.

  “Not exactly. Anyone could use alchemicals, but only those with full powers could use them for their original intended purpose. They’re what runs in your veins, what inspired your magic to mutate in the womb and turn back the clock to become what it had the potential to be.” She walks to the other side of the scrying pool and places her hands on the edge. “Alchemicals are change agents. And when we found the recipes, we decided to use them.”

  I remember something that Darian told me. “But it didn’t always go as you expected, did it?”

  She shakes her head and sighs. “No, nothing ever does, does it? Some of us were too hasty, too determined to implement new solutions before we’d fully tested them. One, I’ll never quite forgive myself for.” She takes a deep breath. “I crafted a particular alchemical blend I was sure would help restore powers to those without any magic. The leader of our alliance insisted we do more tests with volunteers first. And there were some promising results. But my apprentice was impatient. He stole the recipe from me and began making his own batch. Then he snuck into the Technocrats’ main city and released it into their water supply. He was terribly disappointed when the change wasn’t instantaneous.”

  “But the change happened later,” I say, knowing what’s coming next. Zandria gives me a strange look. I haven’t told her about this yet. I’d nearly forgotten about it, actually.

  “Yes. It had no impact on the Magi or adult Technocrats. But for some who were pregnant . . . it impacted their babies. Just a small amount. But when I heard reports of a rash of children being born without beating hearts, I knew exactly what had happened. The alchemical was supposed to start a chain reaction to ignite the magic in their genes at the epicenter—their hearts. Instead, it burned it up.”

  Zandria stiffens beside me and Remy gasps. “That’s how the Heartless were created?” he says.

  Catoria nods. “Yes, it was an accident. My greatest failure.”

  “It’s gotten worse,” I say. “Especially since Darian began adding those alchemicals into the water supply again.”

  “No!” Catoria says. “He wouldn’t.”

  “He would, and he did. He told me himself. Bragged about it, even. He wants to create more Heartless and power their mechanical hearts with a magic-infused source to ensure their loyalty to him. He wants to build an army.”

  Catoria regards me with horror. She recovers herself and swallows hard. “I knew he wasn’t up to anything good based on what I saw in the scrying pool,” she says. “Stealing power from the captured Magi was proof enough if I’d had any doubts. But this . . . this is beyond the pale. He must be stopped.”

  “We couldn’t agree more,” I say.

  Catoria holds up a hand. “I think I know how to help with the water supply issue, at least.” She heads back to the library. “Come along,” she calls behind her. “I’m sure you’re dying to dig into some of the spell books in the library anyway, aren’t you?”

  The image of Darian in the scrying pool fades. We follow our new teacher back to the library.r />
  She’s right about one thing: we’re eager to learn everything we can, absorb anything that can bring magic back to these lands in full force.

  CHAPTER 8

  ONCE WE REACH THE LIBRARY AGAIN, Catoria wastes no time heading directly for whatever alchemical text she requires, leaving us to our own devices for a while. I want to begin perusing the nearest stack of books immediately, but first I regroup with my sister and Remy.

  “What do you think of her?” I whisper.

  Zandria glances past me to where Catoria climbs the stairs to the next level of stacks. The stairs are more solid than I would’ve expected, despite being worn with age. “She’s . . . something, that’s for sure.”

  Remy is more thoughtful. “I think she has a lot to teach us. But I can’t help wondering if she’s hiding an awful lot too.”

  “She probably is,” I say. “We only just met, after all. Though I must admit, I find her fascinating.”

  Zandria harrumphs. “I agree she can teach us a lot, and I’m inclined to like her. But I don’t know that I agree with the Alliance’s mission to ‘heal the rift’ like Catoria said.”

  I frown at my sister, feeling colder than before. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want to heal any rifts with Technocrats. I want to destroy them. Decimate them like they did us.” My jaw drops, but she folds her arms across her chest. “Mama and Papa agreed. They said so in that letter they left us.”

  If my sister had said this to me two months ago, I would’ve wholeheartedly concurred. Forges, I probably even would have said it first. But now, I can’t. Do I still loathe the Technocrats? In general, yes, but there are a specific few I don’t mind. Some I even like and love. Which means it’s possible I’d like other Technos if I got to know them. I can’t reconcile that with the idea of wiping them all out.

  My love for Aro has dulled the edge of my teeth, but not my rage. Only my desire for revenge.