“Clearly, we didn’t wait long enough,” the mystic named Ghing chimed in.
“Or too long,” said Huyshi.
“We knew Wetzel would do anything to earn our trust again,” Aihara went on. “You see, rule breakers can still receive redemption from the Council.”
“He died without knowing he did,” Sora said, a harsh edge creeping into her tone. She took a moment to calm herself lest she earn more punishment.
“He continued to pursue blood magic against our wishes, and so, tainted you.” Aihara stood.
“Did he know?” Sora asked abruptly.
“About who you are? Of course not.” Hearing Aihara scoff in dismissal only served to fuel Sora’s frustration. “All he knew was to look after a gifted child and impart what little knowledge he could.”
“At least he never lied.” She found relief in knowing he was ignorant. She was as close to the old codger as he would let anyone get to him, but he still raised her, opened up her mind. She couldn’t bear the thought of being lied to by him as well.
“Sora, you miss the lesson. Wetzel betrayed us as you did, but forgiveness remains for those who atone. Even for you, who stole Madam Sumati, my master, from this world, stole even her name. But life itself was not your choice, and for that, you will not be punished any differently than any other apprentice who once walked these halls.”
Sora shook her head. “I saw what happened. You did this. You allowed me to live. You killed Madam Sum—my mother—” Just saying it made her feel strange all over. “You cursed King Liam.”
Aihara raised her hand and squeezed her fist. Sora’s legs flew out from under her, and she slammed into the ground. Madam Jaya had to look away. The pain made Sora feel the familiar surge of Elsewhere, but along with it, her seared chest. The place where the bar guai rested throbbed. The ruptured fire amulet had left a dark, charred patch of skin between her breasts.
“You will not speak of the atrocities you saw within the Well of Wisdom again,” Aihara said. She took several booming steps toward Sora. “You didn’t see with eyes of understanding. Your refusal to wait until ready made sure of that. I did not kill your mother. I loved her like any student should their master. She gave her soul up to Elsewhere, siphoning her life away in sacrifice until even this pathetic, spectral form was beyond her.”
Aihara extended a hand to grasp Sora’s, but it passed right through. She turned her back and drew a long, beleaguered breath.
“Helping my master preserve your life when I knew it was against everything we believe in is my greatest regret,” Aihara said, “but it is also why I refuse to give up on you. It is clear to me now that much of the fault in your disobedience lies with us. We should not have rushed you, especially after leaving you with a disobedient former student like Wetzel.”
“You could have told me the truth,” Sora said. She knew she should fight the anger swelling in her, but she was too tired. Nobody answered her remark. The mystics all remained still and silent except Huyshi who nodded meekly like he agreed with her.
“I tried to teach you the importance of patience,” Madam Jaya said after a short while. “I should have tried harder Sora, and that is my failure as well.”
“Should you choose the road to forgiveness, vowing to obey even the smallest command of this Council, to let go of this… mortal, Whitney, and forsake your endeavors to bring him back, we will allow you to remain within these walls as a servant. You will watch, observe and learn what it means to be a member of this Order. In time, when we think you are ready, you will be permitted to resume your training in the mystic arts.”
“In time?” Sora said, incredulous.
“Yes. We hoped Wetzel would have you more prepared for the mystic studies, but we were wrong. He led you astray, but at the very least, he kept you alive and in a time when our allies were few, that was enough. When you are many years older and wiser, should your wisdom allow you to make better choices, we will revisit this council.”
“It is a great honor, Sora,” Huyshi said. “You are young, younger than most we ever took on in the golden days of the Order. Age will refine you. The fault of rushing you lies with us.”
“He’s right, Sora,” Madam Jaya added. “Under your mother, any who violated the Well of Wisdom would have been exiled, or worse.”
Aihara stopped pacing and stared straight into Sora’s eyes. “Do you accept forgiveness, Sora Sumati?”
Sora’s brow furrowed. She stared back at Ancient One Aihara Na, a thousand different responses bouncing around her head. Her entire life, she sought a place she could fit in. She hoped more than anything it could be this tower, once filled with people touched with the same Gift as her. Now, she felt more alone and out of place than ever before.
She couldn’t help but imagine what Whitney would have said to people like this, who would have tied him down and kept him from the world—from adventure.
“Forgiveness?” she said, voice dripping with indignation. “I don’t know why you think I need to receive forgiveness. You people have access to truth and you horde it away for yourselves. When I got to Yaolin, I wondered why my people seemed so content to live under their conquerors, but I see it now. You think that what I saw in the Well was corrupted, but I think you’re wrong. I saw you, forcing our people to fight a war they no longer wanted to, and I saw my mother protecting them.”
Aihara bit her lip. “Careful what you say next, girl.”
“You’ve all been here so long and used so much power you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be human. You think that makes you better, but you’re wrong, and I think my mother saw it. I think that's why she did what she did that night, knowing how Liam would react. She found love after centuries and saw the need to rebuild the Order because all of you had become so… heartless.”
“How dare you speak of her like that!” Aihara roared. She raised her hand and Sora flew back, sliding across the stone and nearly into the rushing waters. Aihara held her there, intense pressure building on all her limbs.
“Aihara, stop!” Madam Jaya shouted.
“No. It is time she learned respect!” Aihara pushed her hand forward, and Sora felt like she was being crushed. She hung over the ledge, further and further. She felt the water beat against her hair. She couldn’t breathe or speak—it was the same feeling as when Redstar threatened to kill her, Whitney, and Torsten in the Webbed Woods. His may have been blood magic, but now Sora knew that all magic came from sacrifice, inside or out.
“She just found out who she is,” Madam Jaya said. “Of course she’s not thinking clearly.”
“She just needs time,” Huyshi said.
“We have no time,” spoke another whom Sora hadn’t heard before. “I’ve seen enough. She is no savior.”
“I concur,” said Ghing.
Aihara stalked forward, muttering in a mixture of languages. Elsewhere beckoned Sora as she struggled for air as it had before she stopped Redstar or banished Kazimir, burning in her chest.
No, not Elsewhere.
Sora couldn’t move her head, but she turned her eyes downward and saw the bar guai. Each of the remaining five stones glowed as the disc spun, lifting from her chest.
She couldn’t scream, but the pain was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Elsewhere called to her, the power begging her to return the call, but with the bar guai there, she couldn’t answer. Her body felt like it was tearing in two.
“You will remain here without magic,” Aihara said. “And you will learn the respect and patience required of a mystic. My Sora did not sacrifice her life so you could insult her people! Our visions said you would rebuild this broken Order, so you will serve until you’re old and gray and every shred of beauty has left your cheeks if that’s what it takes for you to learn. Another fifty years is like a blink of an eye to us.”
The bar guai exploded from Sora’s body and flew into Aihara’s hand. Sora collapsed and gasped for air. She clutched her chest, feeling all the blood, hot and sticky. For a fleetin
g moment, dread gripped her until she realized something—she could answer Elsewhere’s whispers again. She could feel that familiar pull again.
Sora heard Whitney’s voice, frantic and desperate. Nesilia’s sultry, seductive tones begged her to join her in the red mist. They were distant, but growing louder as more blood leaked from her wound.
Sora got onto all fours. “No,” she rasped. “You’ve let me live a lie my whole life. I wanted answers, I got them.”
“You got only what your eyes witnessed, but you fail to see the bigger picture,” Aihara said. “You want your mother to have been as rebellious as you are, but it simply isn’t true.”
“I didn’t mean about her.”
Sora reached for her knife, but as her fingers closed around the grip, the water churned, the waves reached out and washed the knife into the pool.
Sora turned to see Aihara Na's hand outstretched to the moat. Then she rushed forward and pressed her palm to Sora’s chest. The wound inflicted by removing the bar guai began to heal.
“You have no power here,” Aihara said. “Now, you will start doing as told. It will take many months to repair the door to the Well of Wisdom. I suggest we start your service there.”
Sora’s hands balled into fists. “I didn’t only use blood magic to open that door,” she said, seething. “Or the bar guai.” She thought back to her mother on that bed, channeling her power to offer her own life to Elsewhere. Opening that realm so Sora could live when she wasn’t intended to.
Aihara removed her hand, revealing Sora’s wholly healed chest. Sora closed her eyes and looked inward, focusing on the blood running through her veins, on her heartbeat. Fire crackled at her fingertips, swirling around her hands even though she didn't bleed. They were little more than embers, but they were there.
“What is this?” Aihara Na questioned. “What is she doing, Jaya? She cannot channel.”
“'Blood of babe,’” Sora quoted Aihara’s own false sacrifice back to her. “'Bone of child..."
"Stop it. That's not real."
"Bring forth the power of Elsewhere's fire.’”
Sora could barely hear their responses, but the shock on Aihara’s face was enough to know she’d figured it out. Their ritual may have been nothing, but in every good lie held specks of truth. Whitney had taught her that, and his insane view of the world often proved correct.
The secret to opening Elsewhere, and all that came with it which the mystics feared so much was the sacrifice of a life. Her own. And she didn’t need a knife to sacrifice what was required to open Elsewhere and reach Whitney. She didn’t need anything but herself. She knew that now. And even if she never found a way to bring him back, at least she’d be with someone who accepted her.
Every word in the room became distant and removed, obscured by the vague whispers of Elsewhere. Sora wasn’t sure how she did it back at the Well, but she had channeled from within like a true mystic. Like her mother, an Ancient One who seemed without equal.
She kept digging within for the answer. Nothing and no one existed except for her own soul, and she offered it willingly, just as her mother had. She couldn’t say what channeling her power felt like, but she knew she was doing it. Embers churned around her hands now in a heavy current floating around her eyes. It felt like the energy when she released a stream of fire from her fingertips only it was focused within, rushing through her veins toward her chest.
Aihara used her power to become corporeal and grabbed Sora’s face. “Sora, you know not what powers you’re flirting with! Control yourself!”
“Let me go!” she roared. Light exploded from her just as it had in the Webbed Woods. Then the room seemed to fade away into a thick reddish haze, the cries of the mystics replaced by foreign shrieks.
Splayed out before her were the kingdoms of the world. She could see it all like in her visions, yet with no detail. A deep, purple sky loomed over everything, and the ground was rent, molten liquid pouring from the fissure. Sora spun when she recognized the feeling of solid ground. She saw sharp, yellow teeth just before they sank into her flesh, only they didn’t sink in. They passed through her. Hundreds of the creatures did the same, a cold, empty feeling washing over her as they did. Some had skulls capped by a series of horns, but each one was different. There were faces with large beaks filled with razor-sharp teeth. Others had a dozen eyes, at least, covering a flat area beneath the facial crests.
Sinewy muscle flexed as they beat the dirt, running on all fours. Their blood red skin glistened, and pockets of pus oozed from what looked like open sores.
“Shog! Shog! Shog!” She heard him before she saw him, but knew without any question—it was Whitney.
His dirty blonde hair bobbed beyond the mass of creatures, red, horned, and scaly beasts, ugly as could be.
“Well done, my child.” Sora turned when she heard her. She’d heard that voice before, sensual, intoxicating, euphoric even. “I can feel it. My power, returning from its buried prison after so long.”
“Nesilia?” Sora asked. "Where are you?”
The Buried Goddess stood in the distance, towering over a dark figure. Sora could hear indistinct shouting—words spoken with conviction. She closed the gap, and as she did, saw Torsten wrestling with someone clothed in red. At first, she thought it to be one of the mystics. Before she could better assess the scene, she saw Whitney again, running toward her.
No demons followed him this time. She hiked up her kimono and forsook all as she ran toward him.
“Whitney!” she called out.
“Sora!” came a cry from somewhere behind her. She looked over her shoulder at Aihara Na’s vacillating form but didn’t stop. The old mystic cradled something in her arms and shouted at it. “Stop the sacrifice! There’s still a chance to stop!”
Sora continued ignoring her. She saw Torsten, face covered in blood and surrounded by snow, but that didn’t matter. She saw a young nobleman wearing a crown, floating in the air, but he didn’t matter either. All that mattered was Whitney, and suddenly they were wrapped in each other’s arms. Chaos surrounded them, as it always had, but as she looked at him, she felt more at peace than ever before.
“Whit.” She was laughing and crying at the same time. “Whitney. I never thought I’d see you again... I... I’m so sorry, I...”
“Shut up,” Whitney said as he squeezed her. “You’re ruining the moment.” His arms were stronger than she remembered. He even had a patchy beard that itched her neck.
Sora laughed again and allowed herself to get lost in his embrace. And it was while she was there, looking over his shoulder, that she noticed where they were. The quaint, wooden homes were unmistakable.
She pulled away, struggling to catch her breath. “Are we in—”
“Troborough,” Whitney finished for her. “Welcome home.”
She stumbled over what to say next, then settled on her grabbing his face and kissing him deeply, just as she wished she’d done back on that ship in Winde Port before she and her powers ruined everything.
Whitney’s eyes went wide, shocked. It wasn’t the reaction she expected. She was about to pull back and punch him in his arm when he grabbed her tighter and dragged her to the ground. An axe whizzed by as they hit the dirt. A thunk sounded as it buried into the chest of a King’s Shieldsman behind them.
“A Shieldsman?” Whitney said, breathless. Sora wasn’t sure if it was due to the kiss or dodging certain death. “How in the world?”
Sora recalled who she’d seen when she entered Elsewhere. “Torsten is here too!” She pointed at the tear in the world she’d passed. She now saw that it was within what appeared like a ruined Church of Iam. The air around it coruscated with energy, but she could see a haze of snow against a backdrop of a black circle surrounded by a ring of fire.
“There, by the church!” They saw him and then he was gone, hidden behind a wall of demons.
"Oh," Whitney said. "That's not really Torsten. Elsewhere is awful."
"No, right the
re!" she shouted, but a heap of demons obstructed their view.
“Shog in a barrel,” Whitney said. “We’ve gotta get out of here.” Whitney started pulling Sora away from the demons and the portal. “Keeps getting better.”
Sora looked behind her, the mass of Elsewhere’s hounds was already moving away from them, but before them stood two snarling demons. Sora glanced down, then realized her knife remained in the water of the Mystic Council’s throne room. She could still hear Aihara Na whispering to her, chanting with the others like they were miles away. She couldn’t go back for the weapon now.
“Hold on,” Whitney said. He kneeled and pried the sword out of the fallen Shieldsman’s gauntleted hands, then pointed it at the beasts.
“Let me.” Sora extended her hand for him to cut it, but instead, he sneered.
“Come at me, demon!” he roared. She wasn’t sure what he’d been doing for the last weeks, but he didn’t seem afraid in the slightest. Almost eager to fight rather than sneak around it.
In response, one of the beasts bounded toward him, but Whitney rolled aside, then came up waving the weapon before him.
“Goooood dog,” he said. “Good dog.”
The creature snapped at him while the other paced back and forth behind it. The demon rushed at Whitney again. Once more, he attempted to roll out of the way, but this time, the beast was ready for it and thrust its claws out.
They raked Whitney's thigh, drawing three long, bloody lines. The demon snapped out its arm once more, and as Whitney dodged the swipe, he dove toward the monster. His sword found purchase, digging into the demon’s flesh. Whitney pulled hard, dragging the blade across the demon’s chest. Blood poured from the chasm as the creature collapsed on top of him.
Whitney let out a groan, and his hand slammed hard against the dirt. His sword was pinned under the massive corpse, making an attack impossible as the second demon pounced. Whitney rolled and used the corpse as a shield. He was flat on his back, unable to tear his arm and weapon free. It snapped its jaws wildly at him as he struggled to hold it back with the other hand.
The Redstar Rising Trilogy Page 114
