by Kyle West
He couldn’t help but watch her, the way the wind tugged at her hair, her blue eyes reflecting this alien sun.
“I’m not one for causes, quests, and saving the human race. I just do what I feel like doing. Always have, always will. That’s who I am. We probably only have a few days of life left. I’d . . . like it if you were there for me for these last days. For once, it would be nice to not have to worry.”
Lucian’s throat clamped up. “Worry about what?”
“Being afraid.”
Lucian couldn’t deny that he wanted that, too. Serah was strong, brave, fiercely beautiful. That should have been answer enough for him. But he kept thinking of Emma. He knew there was no chance he’d ever see her again, and they had never truly been together, anyway. He had experienced more with Serah in a few short days than in months with Emma. So why did he feel so torn, especially when he was likely to die in the next few days? He hated how confusing things were.
“It’s fine,” Serah said, deflated. “There’s . . . someone else, isn’t there?”
How had she read him so well? “We were never really together. We both wanted that, but at the Academy, that’s forbidden. She’s just someone who was there for me during a hard time.” He smiled. “Sort of like you.”
“You wish it could have been something, though.”
Lucian had to nod. There was no point in lying about it. “Of course I do.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. There’s hardly been any time to process anything. For any of us.”
“And how are you holding up?”
Her eyes widened, as if surprised he’d asked that. “Usually, no one cares about a fray. They just want us to go off and die alone.”
“That’s what happened to me when they sent me here. As far as I’m concerned, you and I are one and the same.”
She watched him for a moment, guarded. “Well, if you really mean it, where to start? Everything in my world is spinning. It feels like when we were falling into the Darkrift. I thought we were going to die. But then I held onto you, and I was . . . okay.” Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t know. I’m not good at all these rotting words, either. I feel like an idiot. Maybe that’s why I like to take shots. It’s easier. What I’m used to.” She sighed. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. And . . . it would be nice to have you there for me, too. It would certainly make the next few days easier to get through.”
“What about my skin? It’s only going to get worse, until I look like those people in the Darkrift.”
He reached down and touched the wound. Her eyes widened, and he was afraid that he had crossed some sort of line, or that it might even hurt her. But she kept her arm still and let him touch her. It felt no different from any other skin.
“Does it hurt?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“It doesn’t feel any different. It just looks different on the outside.”
“It’s ugly, though.”
“It’s the best thing about you.”
She gave a short laugh. “Wow. I must be really ugly, then.”
“You’re definitely not that. You’re beautiful, strong, honest—”
“Then what are you waiting for, Lucian Abrantes?”
He pulled her face close, and her lips melted into his. This was his first chance to slow down in ages, to embrace feelings buried by responsibility. His heart pounded as he gave himself to the moment, as she responded in kind. Why couldn’t they have something more? Something to give them the strength to face everything in the coming days? There were no naysayers, no Transcends or Talents looking over his shoulder. It was just him, her, and what they wanted.
When they parted, he was grateful for the mast blocking them from view, but that was no guarantee of privacy. They were on the Queen’s airship, after all, and she would almost certainly not look favorably on this.
“What was that look in your eyes just now?” Serah asked. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either. It’s just . . .” He didn’t have to finish his sentence.
“Rot that bitch,” Serah said. “She doesn’t own you. Don’t you want to prove that?”
“What do you mean?”
She smiled and pulled him across the deck, mischief glinting in her eyes.
“Serah, what are you doing?”
“Oh, you’ll see in a minute.”
Lucian knew instantly what she meant. Part of him wanted to protest, but who was he kidding? He wanted it, and needed it. And for Serah’s part, well, she was doing exactly as she’d said. She did what felt right to her in the moment. She might feel differently tomorrow, or the next day, but for now, he was content to be caught up in her storm.
The truth was it felt good to be pushed by something else other than destiny for once. To be human instead of Chosen.
They had fallen asleep embracing. For the first time in months, maybe in years, Lucian allowed himself to relax. All the sensations he had forgotten, all the reasons life was worth living, he’d experienced anew. He watched her back, which bore scars from he knew not where, as the last of the golden sunlight set below the window. He watched as she slept, her breaths even and calm. He wanted her to sleep like that as long as she needed, to experience peace and forget fear, at least for another moment.
But it was not to be. She suddenly thrashed in her sleep, her body twisting and throat whimpering. When her eyes opened, they were wide and fearful. Her chest rose and fell madly, and she only calmed when he held her close. She buried her face in his chest, where she nestled warm and soft.
“Bad dream?”
She nodded against him. “You’re not the only one having nightmares.”
“What happened?”
“I’d . . . rather not say. Nightmares are common with frays, but mine have been getting darker lately. I try to forget them. What else can I do?”
He held her closer. “I’m here for you.”
She parted from him, then wiped her eyes. “I’ll manage. I always have.” She looked out the window, noting the evening light. “We should probably get back out there. We’re probably missed.”
“I don’t want to go back out there. That’s the real world, and the real world sucks.”
She smiled. “All right. Not that I needed much convincing.” Her face suddenly became dark and contemplative, like a cloud passing over the sun.
“Another bad thought?”
She sighed. “Nothing we can fix. I was just thinking that whatever’s behind magic is not a good thing. Just look at what’s happening to me.” She looked down at her arm. “It’s larger, now. Twice as big as when we met a few days ago.”
Lucian felt guilty about that. If she’d never met him, that likely wouldn’t have been the case. “Well, if the dream I had last night is to be believed, something about magic is broken. Maybe we can fix it. At least, I hope so. That’s the whole reason we’re doing this, right?”
Serah was quiet again. His heart ached that she seemed to be going back to that dark place. He waited for her to speak.
“I don’t have long. I’ve been using too much magic. I never meant to come this far, but it seems my fate is tied with yours. Whether I want that or not.”
It felt as if he were a tornado, and every person he came in contact with got sucked into his schemes and struggles, whether they wanted it or not. Is that what it meant to be Chosen? Was the gravity of his destiny too great for anyone to escape?
“It’s not over yet,” he said, taking her hands. “Not until we say it is.”
“How?” she asked. “How is it not?”
“I’ll find a way. We can get off Psyche. We can find the Orbs, stop the fraying. You’ll be saved, then.”
She looked out the window. “How likely is that to happen?”
“Who knows? We might find a way we didn’t see before. We’ve got to try, right? We’re in this together, now.”
She gave a sma
ll smile. “I was wrong about you being just broody. You’re a broody optimist if there is such a thing.” She heaved a sigh. “All this about saving humanity. Well to be honest, humanity can rot for all I care. What has humanity ever shown me besides the lack of it?”
She had a good point. Lucian found he didn’t have a response to counteract it – not that he was looking for one.
“To hell with what other people think. I’m here because it feels like the right thing to do, even if I don’t understand everything. But this has grown to be so much more than I thought. I can’t make sense of anything anymore. And worse . . .”
Above came the creaks of footfalls on wooden planks and shouted orders. The ship was getting ready to depart.
Serah broke away from him and Lucian watched her dress. She went to the small vanity in the corner and straightened her long, honey-blonde hair.
Lucian took that as his cue, dressing himself and straightening his own appearance.
She took his hands and looked at him seriously. “Look. I like you and all, and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way. But . . . I’m happy with things staying the way they are.”
“You mean, the way they were before we committed these unspeakable acts?”
She didn’t smile. “Come on, be serious. Not to say we can’t do this again. It was . . . nice.” She watched him closely. “I don’t know. I just don’t want you to think it was something more than it was.”
“What was it to you?”
She bit her lip nervously. “Um . . . two friends comforting each other during a dark moment? Can we agree on that?”
“Yeah. I mean, sure.”
“Sorry. I’m shit at explaining things. Let’s put it this way. Yes, it meant something, yes, it was good, and yes, I like you. Just . . . don’t get all lovey dovey on me, okay?”
Lucian laughed. “Is that what you’re worried about? Putting labels on things?”
“Maybe? I don’t know. Let’s just let this be what it is. We already have enough going on without feelings to complicate it.”
“Well, I agree.”
She blinked. “Oh. Well, that was simple.” She let out a sigh of relief. “As long as we’re on the same page as far as that, I think we can put this awkward conversation to bed.”
She opened the door slowly and peered both ways down the corridor. She nodded, the signal that the coast was clear.
Just before he slid into the dark corridor, she grabbed his arm with surprising strength and pulled him in for a final kiss.
“Remember. This never happened.”
He winked. “What happened?”
She patted him on the chest. “Good boy. Now get out of here.”
With a final slap on the rump, she sent him on his way.
43
Thankfully, the days passed without incident. It was hard to pretend things were normal with Serah, but it seemed no one was the wiser to what had happened. She was incredibly good at pretending, which made Lucian think the whole thing really did mean nothing to her. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Despite their conversation, he needed more clarification on where they stood. He’d been hoping it’d meant at least something, but from her behavior, it seemed it really was just comfort for a single night and nothing more. Because of their previous conversation, he didn’t want to bring anything up. That would just make things weirder.
In the end, though, he figured Serah was right. It was something they both needed at the time, and they had bigger things to worry about than feelings, although Lucian had to admit feelings had a certain way of gumming up the works, sliding into every nook and crevice of thought and action.
So, he did his best to put it out of his mind, even if it was difficult.
What few times Lucian saw the Queen was for training. She treated him no differently than before, evidence that perhaps she didn’t have a spy following him around everywhere. That was, she treated him as a teacher who was somewhat annoyed at her student’s lack of progress. From her, he learned more about wards and brands, and how to combine different Aspects for different effects. He got more education in the few days’ journey across Psyche’s Westlands than he had in months at the Academy – perhaps because with the Sorceress-Queen, no knowledge was forbidden. He could ask whatever he wanted, and she would show him how to do it.
As time went on, he became even more convinced she actually did believe in her prophecy about him being the Chosen. Why else go through all this trouble? That left Lucian in a bind, too, because it naturally meant she might be right about things. What if he really did have to work with her, for years on end, for the Orbs to work? What if he had to become the kind of person that could stand to work with her, to have no qualms about ruling a stratified society with slavery?
Either now or in the future, there would be conflict with the Sorceress-Queen. And he was nowhere near ready for that.
With Fergus, he trained his spear work, while Cleon showed him some tricks with Thermal Magic. He showed Lucian how to stream fireballs, both stationary and moving. Stationary fireballs were no different than branded sphere light – it was just heat with some Gravitonic Magic to hold its shape. The trick to get it moving was a flash of Binding, or alternately, a second Gravitonic stream, though that method was less common. Cleon also showed him how to make ice spikes, which can be shot like projectiles using the same principle.
And Cleon also taught Lucian something he always wanted to learn: creating a Psionic brand powerful enough to cut off a mage’s magic at their source.
“It’s not easy,” Cleon said. “It involves creating a brand around another mage’s Focus, and trust me, no mage in their right mind will let you do that if they know how to defend against it. And almost every mage will be expecting you to try if they know you’re gifted at Psionic Magic.”
“So, how is it done?”
“Two ways,” Cleon said. “You can do it sneakily, or you can do it with sheer power. But the problem is, it takes so much magic to do it right that if you fail, you’ll be left weak and at the mercy of the other mage, who can just come right back at you and surround your Focus with a Psionic brand.”
“Makes sense,” Lucian said. So basically, he could kiss his prospects of cutting off the Sorceress-Queen goodbye.
“You need at least a dualstream, as with any brand,” Cleon said. “Ideally a tristream if the mage you happen to be branding has a particular gifting for Psionic Magic.”
Both of them looked at each other, knowing full well who they were talking about.
“The streaming of a Psionic brand is similar to that of a Psionic ward. But since you’re streaming it around another mage’s Focus, it will take much more magic. And the more powerful the Focus of the mage you’re dealing with, the more powerful the magic. Any Focus outside your own repels the magic of another mage if it gets too close, if that makes sense. So, the brand has to hold together strong, even considering that repelling force.”
It sounded complicated. “Okay. When can we practice?”
“Now, if you want. It’s all for a good cause, right?”
Cleon was right; it did take a lot of magic. Lucian could only make three or so attempts before being completely spent of his naturally accrued ether. He chose to create his brand with Psionic and Binding Magic, and even if his Binding Magic was unlimited, it was still draining.
Lucian practiced with Cleon every chance he got. He wanted to be ready for anything, to know how to do something to another mage that had made him feel so powerless.
The days passed like that – watching, waiting, and training.
The Zephyr sailed farther west, across bone-dry mountains, lakes of lava, and sharp peaks more akin to spikes than mountains. If there was a literal hell, this was probably pretty close to it. The air was sweltering, even at the high altitude. On the surface, it must have been an unbearable oven. The white giant of Cupid loomed above, its baleful crimson eye increasingly dominating the pale blue sky. Even night was no relief from its g
aze, as the planet’s light kept the fiery land in half-twilight.
And then one day, the mountains and lava flows ended, and what lay before them was a vast desert of shifting dunes riven with cracks. It stretched for hundreds of kilometers, north, south, east, and west, a seemingly endless expanse.
On the fourth day, with the white giant of Cupid dominating the sky above, the Sorceress-Queen summoned Lucian to her stateroom. When the doors were opened for him, she stood looking out the glass windows. She wore a glimmering dress set with pearls that almost blended with her creamy skin. Her violet eyes seemed to peer deep into Lucian’s thoughts.
“Stand beside me,” she instructed. “There is much we have to speak of.”
There was nothing but to humor her. He stood at her side, looking out the window at the passing desert below. Those red dunes, some almost as tall as mountains, stretched toward the far eastern horizon.
“Something we must address,” she said. “As a man, I understand you have certain . . . needs. I also understand if you need to act upon them. But you must never let it become more than that. Your destiny is greater, and you must always be mindful of that destiny. Your focus should always be the Orbs; all else is secondary. You are the Chosen, and there are few women who will be a match for you in strength.”
Lucian kept his face forward, and when he answered, he did his best to keep his voice controlled. “That’s not for you to decide. And whatever I do on my own time is not your business.”
“There, we beg to differ. Too much is at stake, Lucian. I’ve a mind to forbid you from such future . . . meetings. They are a distraction.”
He wanted to defend himself, but it would be a waste of breath. Better to change the subject entirely. “Is this all you wanted to talk about?”
Her eyes refocused on the expanse of dunes before him. “Tell me. Do you feel anything?”
“What do you mean?”
“We should be close to the Orb, now, and this is the first time I’ve been this far into the Burning Sands without being forced to turn back due to a storm. An auspicious sign. Access your Focus, Lucian. Feel what you can.”
