Fearless

by Marianne Curley

  ‘He could squash you like an insect,’ Prince Cassiel says. ‘He could burn you where you stand, and when he is glowing, whatever you do, don’t look into his eyes.’

  13

  Ebony

  On my second night in Skade I dream of Prince Luca dancing a Viennese waltz with me in an ivory ballroom with crystal chandeliers, white candles in sconces over tables and glass hurricane lamps on marble and gold stands. The room is brimming with angels in fancy dress, costumes from Earth’s various historical eras, except everyone is wearing a mask resembling an animal, bird or reptile. Prince Luca’s mask is a lion’s head. Mine is a peacock.

  It’s like something out of a fairy tale but with a dark twist.

  Prince Luca is so tall I have to lean my head back to see his face. The dream-me wonders if he’s always this tall. His eyes are mesmerising, glowing a deep golden yellow. He twirls me confidently around the polished floor, clearly an experienced dancer. He picks up the pace, spinning me faster. The other dancers step back, making room for us. They nod and smile at their king as we waltz past them. Thoughtfully today Luca is wearing black gloves that stop his heat from burning my hands. He makes a joke about it and I laugh. He is charismatic and charming.

  The dream-me feels safe in his arms. But the sleeping-me knows something isn’t right and squirms uncomfortably between the sheets. A red and fuzzy edge develops around my vision. It’s the haze I get when I’m angry. But I’m not angry. Well, not the dream-me. I’m dancing to perfectly pitched violins, turning left and right as Luca spins me around the dance floor at an astonishing pace, almost like we’re flying.

  But the haze grows stronger, as if I’m trying to pull myself from the dream, as if the sleeping-me knows I’m in danger. I become aware of my body jerking. It shocks the dream-me and I miss a step.

  My subconscious mind, which never sleeps, is working hard at waking me up.

  But then Luca brings his mouth down to my ear and whispers, ‘They’re watching you, Princess.’ His gloved fingers trace circular patterns on my bare arm. His soft touch surprises me. But more surprising is my physical reaction. In the one breath I both desire and hate him. ‘You intrigue them,’ he says.

  I see angels smiling and clapping, faces I don’t recognise cheering us on.

  ‘You intrigue me most of all,’ he whispers.

  My mind stops fighting and Prince Luca smiles at the devoted crowd. ‘Wave, Princess. They’re waiting for you to acknowledge them.’

  Like a machine designed to respond automatically to the sound of Luca’s voice, I do what he says.

  The music stops and Luca steps back, keeping his eyes fixed on me, more magnetic and compelling than ever. With an elegant sweeping movement he whisks off his mask and tosses it to the excited onlookers. Smiling and confident, he leans down and gently removes my mask, again tossing it to the cheering angels.

  When his eyes return to me, they’re a bright scalding green. My stomach flips, my fingers tingle, my pulse accelerates. Prince Luca is going to kiss me. Everyone can feel it. He tilts his head slightly, draws in a soft breath and slowly begins to lower his mouth.

  ‘You are mine, Princess,’ he whispers, closing the space between us.

  ‘Forever,’ he adds.

  His mouth presses into mine, and my lips burst into flames.

  I wake with a start and sit straight up in bed, my heart pounding. I breathe deeply, the pulse in my neck jumping. ‘What was that?’ I ask myself in a whisper that sounds loud in the dark silence. I lift my fingers to check my lips have not really exploded into fire. It’s a relief to find them still intact.

  Going to the window, I find my bearings and force myself to shake off the disturbing dream. I promise to find a way out of this palace before Luca has a chance to slip into my dreams and try again to make me fall in love with him.

  14

  Nathaneal

  Prince Cassiel walks the three of us to the lift but doesn’t enter the chamber with us. ‘Good luck, Prince Nathaneal. I mean that on behalf of all the Sentinels.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  In the enclosed cabin, Shae asks Michael, ‘When you were here thirty-four years ago, did you meet our High King?’

  ‘He asked to see me once. We talked. He told me about Nathaneal. He gave my life purpose again.’

  Shae flicks her gaze over me. ‘But … Nathaneal wasn’t born for years to come.’

  Michael scoffs. ‘I know.’ He looks at me. ‘And as with the rest of us, we had to wait until he was ready.’

  I need to change the subject. Keep a clear head. Thankfully the lift starts rising. And rising. The higher the altitude, the faster the gears grind and the sound of rushing wind takes on a shrill whistle as the decrease in air pressure forces trapped air in my ears to push outwards and pop. How fast and what elevation is anyone’s guess.

  When the lift begins to slow Michael reels off advice, ‘Keep your heads lowered, your eyes sheltered, and no matter how shocking or surprised or painful it might become in there, remember to keep breathing.’

  ‘Right,’ I murmur through suddenly soaring nerves.

  Shae’s eyes widen as she catches mine. ‘Anything else we should know?’

  ‘He will appear first to us as light, then in either angel or human form. Only then can we look at him, though still not into his eyes if he is glowing, OK?’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  ‘Shae?’

  ‘I’ve got it, Michael.’

  ‘Good.’

  We stand still, hardly breathing, as the elevator winds down to a smooth stop. In the instant before the doors open we glance at each other, and an unspoken understanding passes between us. This is it. If it doesn’t go well, if we don’t walk out with the hanival in our possession, it will be over.

  I will have failed her. And eventually the entire human race.

  Completely. Utterly. Failed.

  My hands are shaking. You’re OK. Breathe. A few nerves won’t hurt. Total collapse from holding my breath will. Remember why you’re here.

  Ebony’s face appears as I last saw her, as colossal Dark Thrones, their faces concealed beneath grotesque black helmets, pull her from my wings, her eyes weeping sorrow as she comprehends the horrors that lie ahead for us.

  The memory is precisely what I need as I face the unknown and uncertain. The doors open and we step into a profound black void.

  A flicker of light in the distance appears as a white dot.

  It grows exponentially, rushing at us with the eerie sound of typhoon winds, though there is not even the hint of a zephyr. The light swells, building in an instant to a blinding dazzle. It surrounds us. As we lift our arms to shield our eyes, a radiant male figure appears in the light’s bright centre. In a deep, strong, compelling voice, he commands us to approach.

  Already I can see that this light – his light – is extraordinary. It bursts forth like the Sun’s first explosive rays breaking over the finely arched horizon of Earth. Resplendent, it glistens as if every photon is – impossibly – a molecule, or less, an atom, each with the uniqueness of a snowflake.

  The source of this light – the radiant man – speaks to me. Come closer, my sweet prince of light.

  The nearer I draw to the source, the brighter, the more densely packed, the radioactive photons become. They’re all around me. I lift my hand and notice – again impossibly – intricate details with individual photon strings, or ‘rays’ as humans call them. They move between my fingers, flashing with each lithe movement as they dance around, bumping into each other.

  I soon realise this light is making its own radiance, its own energy. This is why it feels warm on my skin. The atoms are in constant motion, moving in all different directions, making heat, and even music. Every note is a unique sound. It’s breathtaking. Magical.

  I also realise there is nothing in this light to fear, so I lower my arm and allow the light to wholly embrace me.

  Millions of photons attach themselves to my skin. Their warmth f
eels like the embraces of butterflies. I hear their sounds, their harmonious ever-changing melodies. They mould around my body, sink into my pores and fill me with an all-encompassing sense of peace, contentment, trust and absolute …

  It’s love, Shae. In its purest form, untainted by angel or human minds. The light will not harm us.

  She nods, while Michael stares. I open my mouth and inhale. Millions of photons tumble inside me, filling me, spreading into my lungs, my blood, enriching my organs; even my brain feels more alive, more … empowered.

  Awareness like never before enriches my senses, energises my brain, settling in the pit of my stomach as I grasp an understanding of … everything – how vital the Earth is, how every human and every angel, including the excommunicated, the fallen and their innocent descendants who have no alternative, are all connected.

  And how that connection is this light.

  I reach for an understanding of how, why. Open your eyes, prince of my heart, and see.

  I do as the High King commands and the light draws me in closer, closer, closer. I’m not moving physically, but my mind feels opened, enlarged with knowledge and love, always love, and I keep moving until it’s as if I’m inside the source, and then I see. This is where all things once came. I see the explosion of creation, the generation of universes, stars and planets and –

  I hear Michael call my name as if through a deep fog. He wants me to pull away, but I can’t leave yet. He grabs my arm, but I slip from the physical contact as if my limbs were malleable. I’m seeing and feeling and hearing something never before seen or felt or heard. It’s truth, the truth in its original, untainted form. And above everything I understand in this utopic sensory experience is the sense that the High King knows, and is pleased with me, and … somewhat amused.

  I whisper to Michael and Shae, Are you feeling this?

  Not as abundantly as I suspect you are, cousin.

  And suddenly a compulsion comes over me, not only to see, but also to become one with the light. Enough, Thane, Michael calls. You will go too far for me to pull you out.

  I take a step forward.

  Stop!

  I hear the voice. It’s not Michael, and I do exactly as he says.

  My eager prince, you must learn to listen to your minder. Prince Michael’s wealth of experience is what you lack, and his advice is more golden than the sun.

  I give myself a mental shake. What am I doing? Ebony’s face immediately appears and I exhale a long sigh.

  You come for the hanival, the High King states as he steps out of the light in the form of a tall dark-haired man with glittering eyes and honey-coloured skin, a glowing pale gold aura surrounding him. Armchairs appear, and by the time he motions to them and we all sit, his aura has softened to a dim, humming glow, and a room with white walls and a window into deep space has formed around us.

  In a beautifully crafted speaking voice, with perfect enunciation, the High King says, ‘The hanival is not a weapon, but when held in the hands of one who can wield it, it will multiply the energy of the holder many times over.’ His head tilts to the side like a bird examining a ripe piece of fruit. ‘But I cannot let you have it.’

  ‘My lord, will you explain why you will not allow me the one item vital to freeing Ebony from the tyrant of all tyrants?’

  ‘Prince Nathaneal, you must know by now that you are exquisitely dear to my heart and saying no to you is difficult. The world has waited long for your presence. And now that you are here, your heart breaks for your beloved and this clouds your sharp mind. The ramifications of using the hanival are too dangerous for all of Earth.’

  ‘W-h-what ramifications, my lord?’ Shae asks, close to breaking point.

  ‘Sweet Shaephira, once a hole is forged, you will not be able to close it again. None of you will.’ He looks pointedly at Michael, then me. ‘Nor I, for that matter. Not even Lucian himself.’

  This is crushing news. I truly thought Luca could open his own gates but it suited him for everyone to think he couldn’t. Now I learn that he can’t even repair them.

  ‘I have no instrument that can close a damaged gate,’ the High King continues. ‘No such tool exists. The hole would act as a vortex, pulling out dark souls, demons and beasts. They will infiltrate the Crossing, locate the entrances to Peridis, Avena and Earth and tear apart the barriers I set in place to protect the worlds from one another. Imagine Earth with no protective barriers.’ He shudders, distorting his aura so that the air around us ripples.

  Michael says, ‘Over time, the human soul would alter from the contamination of evil.’

  ‘Imagine the hysteria,’ the High King says, ‘when human beings see battalions of angels darkening their skies with their black armour and horned helmets, carrying shields, and weapons humans know nothing of, blowing trumpets declaring war. It would not be long before Prince Lucian’s threat to control all the realms comes to pass.’

  He suddenly stands and morphs into an angel taller than any other, his aura strengthening and emanating in glowing waves of colour. ‘I cannot risk Earth becoming the Dark Prince’s dominion.’

  My mouth goes tinder dry as he glances down at the three of us. ‘And nor should you. It is the oath you have sworn to live by.’

  He focuses directly at me. ‘Nathaneal, you are vital to the salvation of humankind and the existence of eternal life.’ He inhales deeply, his massive chest rising and expanding, his colossal wings opening out to their full mind-blowing span, an expression of acute agony on his face. Retracting his wings, he softens his voice and adds, ‘But so too is Ebrielle, whom we shall call Ebony, for that is how she knows herself at present. Together you make an unbeatable force.’

  ‘My lord, I will block the way of every soul, demon or beast that would attempt to pass through a hole I puncture in the gates of Skade. I promise this. I make this vow before you, the High King of Avena and Earth, and in the presence of –’

  ‘Tell me, Nathaneal, how long are you prepared to guard the punctured gate – a hundred years, a thousand?’

  ‘If a thousand years was the price to free Ebony, my lord, I would guard it gladly. I would install rotating shifts of the best soldiers Avena has.’

  ‘And will you also promise to stop the Dark Prince?’

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘If you do not stop the cause, the battles between light and dark angelic forces will continue to escalate until human life is enslaved under Lucien’s complete control. The Dark Prince has found a deep power source within himself and the closer he draws to his heart’s desire, the stronger he becomes, and the more dangerous. He is a real threat to human life and once he physically consummates with the object of his obsession he will transmogrify into the power force within him.’

  He waits for my answer, watching me, giving me time to take it all in. And while I think about what he is asking of me, he says, ‘There is no guarantee that over time the breach you create will not widen as its edges deteriorate. As dark souls force their way through it, rips can occur that might cause the entire gate to tear apart. Dark angels and beasts, sensing freedom, could widen the perforation from the inside, compulsively picking away at it like a scabrous sore. You would not be able to stop that unless you entered Skade with the intention of destroying the offenders. And if you don’t stop Lucian before you leave Skade, he would construe this as an invasion, and he would be within his rights as king to declare war on Avena.’

  He has made his point. I don’t need time to think. ‘My lord, I will do whatever is necessary. And I will be devastating.’

  He falls silent. And then he nods. ‘There is a way a gate can regenerate itself.’

  What? My heart wants to burst out of my chest at this news, but until I know more I contain this compulsion to soar to the ceiling.

  ‘Nathaneal, I am willing to give you the hanival if, after you have fulfilled your promise, you agree to provide the gate with what it requires to regenerate itself.’

  Shae grips my forearm, ‘Yes! Ye
s, my lord, we promise to provide whatever it requires.’

  He glances at Shae with a compassionate look. ‘I must have confirmation from Nathaneal.’

  She nods, swinging her gaze to me, and waits.

  ‘Sire,’ I ask, ‘how does a gate regenerate itself?’

  ‘I’m afraid a human is required, and not just any human, but one whose heart flows with love.’

  Silence descends in the room as if we are in the presence of death. Michael’s gaze joins Shae’s, burning into each side of my face as they both reach for my mind. But I block them. I can’t look at either of them in case I see what they might be thinking – who they might be thinking of. I can’t let my thoughts move in that direction.

  The High King explains, ‘Find a human whose heart flows with love and who is willing to sacrifice his or her life for this cause, and the instrument is yours.’ His eyes shift to a low table that appears at his side, where an instrument with a crystalline metal barrel lies in an open titanium case.

  ‘How does the act of regeneration occur?’ Michael asks, dragging his eyes from my face.

  ‘The gates are an infinitesimal assembly of microscopic singular cells that radiate to each other, forming strings of living organisms. The strings are able to regenerate themselves from a particularly rich source of human blood and tissue. The beating of a human heart will create the unique environment required for the regeneration process to occur. Human tissue and blood are reorganised into the impenetrable solid mass that forms the gates.’

  ‘How long would the process take?’ he asks.

  ‘A few minutes, but that would depend on the heart – how full of love it is, how strongly it beats, and how willing the human is to give to this cause.’

  ‘Must the human be sacrificed?’

  ‘Blood is required, the heart must be beating to pump it or the gate’s fabric will not knit together. The gate will rebuild itself around the human, consuming all flesh, bones, organs, teeth, hair. Even clothes.’