Ashes of Iris

by Stephanie Poscente

  “Get away from me,” an unfamiliar voice whispered.

  No answer came, but the sound of exerted breath met her ears. Rounding the final curve, she saw the source of the noise, her smile widening at the sight of the familiar form, his arms outstretched in an effort to hinder the progress of another.

  “Rausch,” she breathed, the name rushing from her like a sweet breeze, though the voice was high and foreign to her ears.

  He spun in surprise, the minute of hesitation allowing the other man to rush past him, knocking into her in his haste to ascend the stairway.

  “Sophie,” Rausch said in surprise, his eyes following Jude's form as he disappeared around the curve in the stairway. “Are you alright? I was not expecting-'

  “All is well,” she answered, satisfied that he did not suspect her. “Let us depart this place. Come, follow me.”

  “Wait,” he made to grab her by the arm, but she pulled away. His eyes narrowed, though he followed her through the opening and into the darkened conservatory.

  “We must find the others now,” she said quietly. “Where is Fantir?”

  “I do not know,” he answered. “I assume he has retired for the night. Were you able to contact her?”

  She was already heading for the exit, ignoring his question. He followed, struggling to keep up with her wide strides.

  “We haven't much time,” she said.

  Following the halls until she reached the familiar double wooden doors of Fantir's chamber, she laid a hand upon the surface. Many times she had wandered the halls in the dead of night to reach his room, though in those days it had been less exciting to her than at that moment. Then, it was only to placate his affection. She had much more at stake now, despite the outcome of her previous ventures.

  Casting a glance behind her at the man who had sold her to the religious authorities, an upsurge of resentment rose in her throat like vomit. He deserved the suffering she had laid upon him, of that she was sure. Had it not been for her own unexpected imprisonment along with him, she would have never considered taking it back.

  “Sophie?” he asked, shocked by the harsh expression in her eyes.

  She cringed at the name, knowing that it was the girl she now embodied, and she felt the impulse to reveal herself. Turning instead to the door, she rapped it briskly with her knuckles.

  Without waiting for an answer, she placed a hand on the locked handle and closed her eyes. After a second it clicked quietly and she swung it open, grateful for her blood flowing through the girl's veins and with it the ability to conjure her own craft. Rausch remained silent behind her, feigning ignorance, but his suspicions had been confirmed by that careless display of power.

  The room was dark, the dim light of the moon melting through the thin drapes illuminated only a slim portion. Shadows were painted over the walls and floor, the stone fireplace looking ominous in the dark.

  “Where are you hiding, my dear?” she whispered, entirely forgetting Rausch's presence. He froze at the words, his hands balling into fists, but did not dare to speak for fear of summoning her anger.

  Though Sophie's long, dark hair washed over her back and her now familiar shape stood tense with anticipation, he knew now that her mind no longer chose her actions. The way in which her shoulders hunched uncharacteristically and her feet swept long strides along the floor told him it was true, even without the words that gave her away. He could see Fantir's still form on the bed at the far end of the chamber, but did not say a word.

  “Sleeping, are we?” she cooed, hastening toward the bed with Rausch hot on her heels. “Time to wake, we have a task to complete.”

  As she prodded him with a stiff finger, Rausch stepped forward and seized her other arm.

  “What have you done?” he demanded, spinning her to face him. Her eyes widened momentarily, but she recovered with haste and glared into his face.

  “Do not touch me, traitor,” she hissed. “If you desire freedom, you will allow me space to work. If not, crawl back to your hiding place and leave me in peace.”

  “The girl,” he started to argue, but she raised her hands in warning.

  “The girl is not my concern, nor is she yours. I needed only her connection to me to claim my freedom. Have I attempted previously? Oh, yes. Each time a bitter failure. And then she arrived here, and I knew directly. It was not a lack of power, no, but that I needed a bridge between myself and the living. It was her blood, my blood, our ancestry that would give me success. I knew it just as well as Fantir, but I suppose it slipped his mind?”

  Rausch's eyebrows raised and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Closing it, he shook his head.

  Ziva laughed.

  “No, I suspected it was our secret.”

  With that, she turned and shook Fantir so violently by the shoulder that he shot up in bed with wide eyes, stuttering in semi-consciousness.

  “Who is there?” he gasped, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Rausch? Sophie? What do you mean by this?”

  “Be calm now,” she hushed, stroking his disheveled hair with a soft hand. “There is nothing to fear.”

  “Fear?” he repeated, his eyes following her hand as she moved it from his hair to rest on his leg. “What has happened?”

  “Fantir-” Raush began, stepping forward.

  Before he could go further, Ziva turned to him and pressed a hand into his chest. His words were censored, the oxygen in his lungs stifled. He spluttered and retched, gripping her fingers in vain before sinking to the floor. She released him, spitting a string of obscenities while he wheezed on the floor. Fantir watched them, his eyes growing wide.

  “Ziva?” he whispered, his eyes tracing the lines of Sophie's body, the length of her hair and shape of her eyes. “What have you done?”

  The question, the same one Rausch had posed not long before, caused her to flail her arms through the air and cry out in frustration.

  “Done! Done! What have I done? Must I explain? I have returned to you, at great risk to myself. Did you not wish for me to return? Do you not relish the thought of freedom, of clarity and unbounded range? What I have done will allow me to give you that. Ask me that question again, my dear friends, and I will leave you to rot amidst your own blithering ignorance.”

  “What will happen to the girl?” Rausch asked, pushing himself from the floor. He fought the urge to cringe when she rounded on him again, instead standing straight and raising his chin in defiance.

  “We shall soon find out,” she answered. “But for now, we must leave this place.”

  “I have not left in eternities,” Fantir whispered.

  “No,” she answered, turning to grip his arm and pull him from the bed, “because you did not have me.”

  They exited the room, walking single file through the halls, Ziva leading the way with her arms held rigid by her sides. The halls remained dark and empty, not a whisper of movement aside from their own quiet steps. Through the entrance they went, the two men slowing as they approached the front doors. Ziva did not falter, stepping up to the thick wood and placing her hands on their solid surface. Her head bowed, but she did not speak a word. They watched for a moment, hardly daring to breath and unsure of what to expect, but she turned back to them with a smile and motioned for them to follow.

  The scent of night and a soft spring breeze brushed their faces as they brought their feet right up to the threshold, both pausing at that point. Ziva exited without hesitation, and was now strolling through the moistened grass. Fantir turned to Rausch, who did not remove his gaze from the witch.

  “I fear this will end badly,” he said quietly. “For all of us. She was never meant to return.”

  “You knew there was a way,” Rausch answered, shaking his head. “Should she not have been warned? Should I not have been warned?”

  “I suspected, and I did try to warn, but I did not want to frighten her.”

  “Frighten her?” Rausch scoffed, thinking of Sophie and her calm acceptance of their imp
ossible situation. “She is stronger than you believe, Fantir, but now we cannot help her. Her death will be on your hands. You will know what guilt is, then.”

  Fantir nodded slowly, silently raising a foot and pushing it through the doorway. His breath came out in a rush when it slid through the opening with ease, and he leaned forward, hands extended, and let his body be engulfed by the night air.

  “Incredible,” he whispered to himself, turning his hands over in the air and raising his face to the sky.

  Rausch followed, but did not stop to revel in their freedom. He passed Fantir, descended the stairs and traced Ziva's steps through the grass, coming to a stop where she waited at the edge of the trees. The breeze did little to stifle the heat that had risen in his face, but neither of the others seemed to notice his anger.

  “But a small taste of air and I can see the longing in your face,” Ziva noted, her eyes narrowed. She tossed back her head and gave a loud laugh, sounding more like a screech owl than a human to Rausch's ears.

  “Why wait,” Fantir demanded, spreading his arms wide. “Set me free, remove me from these binds. I have waited long enough already. Or are you speaking false?”

  “Do not insult me,” she spat, turning away. “I have more to discuss before this can be done.”

  The two men followed her as she paced through the underbrush, navigating the darkness with an ease and grace they could not mimic. As the ground broke and crunched beneath their feet, a dull hum began in their ears.

  Rausch shifted his glance around, but the darkness was complete. Fantir groaned quietly in front of him as his shin hit a low lying branch. Despite their struggles, Ziva maintained her pace and the hum grew louder as she walked. Soon, the sounds of their footsteps were drowned out entirely by the vibration of the air, and they tread carefully, fearful of the source.

  The witch, in her borrowed body, faded in and out of sight. Her pace quickened and they fell behind. Rausch called out to her but no answer came, as the outline of her dark form disappeared from view entirely. Fantir stopped, turning in a full circle before raising his arms and bellowing her name.

  “It is no use,” Rausch muttered, rubbing the back of his calf. A branch had leapt from the ground and pierced his skin, but the cut was shallow. “She has gone too far and is much too focused on what lies ahead. We are nothing but baggage.”

  “Baggage,” Fantir muttered, so low that Rausch could not hear over the hum. After a moment, he threw up his hands. “What is this confounded noise?” he cried, raising his face toward the treetops.

  Rausch did not answer, but shook his head. The sound was swelling in his ears, making it difficult for him to concentrate on anything but putting one foot in front of the other, passing Fantir as he tried to follow Ziva through the black.

  After a few minutes, he heard voices ahead of him, hushed, but not far.

  “What has happened, Sophie?” he heard a man say, though the voice sounded different than when he had heard it last.

  “Lukas,” Ziva purred, the name seeping from her lips like thick oil.

  As Rausch neared them, he saw a dull light coming from the windows of a tiny cottage not far behind. It illuminated their forms enough for him to see their outlines, but their faces were entirely hidden in shadow.

  “Tell me,” Lukas was urging her, stepping forward. Rausch was too disconcerted by his sudden appearance to intervene.

  Ziva reached a hand up to stroke his face, and for a moment Lukas stood still as stone. Then, he seized her wrist and leaned forward.

  “Ziva,” he hissed. “You foul traitor. If only your black soul had burned along with the tainted body that housed it. Do not touch me again, I despise you.”

  “Harsh words, my love,” she cooed, letting her arm drop as he released her. “Certainly you would not feel the same if I told you I have come to set you free?”

  “Free?” he scoffed. “You defile the body of an innocent girl, coming here with false sorrow in your eyes, and for what? Lies? More lies? If it is freedom you promise, then produce it. Otherwise, your words mean nothing more to me than they ever have.”

  Rausch stepped forward then, opening his mouth to speak, but a flash of light erupted in his vision and he stumbled forward, pain searing from his throat to his knees.

  “Do not approach us, old man,” Ziva spoke over the ever-present noise. “You are not welcome.”

  “Rausch,” Lukas gasped, moving away from the witch. “How is this possible?”

  “I make everything possible,” Ziva interrupted, watching with narrowed eyes as Lukas put a hand under Rausch's arm and helped him to his feet. “And I can make it impossible, if I so choose.”

  She raised her arms and the hum grew louder, impossibly loud, making both men hold their ears as it threatened to burst through their eardrums. She only laughed as she watched them, scowling at Fantir who emerged into the small pool of light with his hands covering his head.

  “Not long now,” she said, dropping her arms as the noise faded only slightly. “That is the sound of your lives fading. You have stepped through the boundary I set, and have only a fixed time to walk free. We must hurry, now, or a fouler curse awaits you.”

  “Speak, witch,” Lukas said angrily, grabbing her arm once more as she attempted to pass him. “Say what you have come for.”

  She glanced down at his hand clutching her arm, then back up into his face. Her body had gone rigid, but Rausch heard her breath quicken.

  “Only for you,” she whispered. “I come for nothing but this.”

  With those words, she pulled him closer to her, grasping his shoulders with both hands and forcing her mouth against his. He struggled for a moment, growling with displeasure while Fantir echoed the sentiment with a growl of his own. His anger only made her fiercer and she pulled at the sides of his shirt, forcing his body against hers as he tried to pull his face away without injuring Sophie's body. Breaking away from her, he stepped back with his hands raised and his breath heaving.

  “Is that all?” he managed to say through his anger.

  “If only you had loved me as I did you,” she answered, “you could have saved your friends a century of torment. Instead, you loved another, though she was weak and timid. You deserved better.”

  Lukas's face was expressionless, his hands loose at his sides. His anger was smothered by a new emotion and he smirked at her words.

  “You have no power over me,” he said quietly. “Your words mean nothing.”

  “They mean something to me,” Fantir interrupted, stumbling forward and gripping the hem of her dress. “I have loved you since the moment you arrived on my doorstep. Every minute I spent away from you was tortured and painful. These hundred years were nothing compared to the devastation I felt upon your death.”

  Ziva pulled away, her face twisted in a grimace.

  “Slither away, worm,” she spat, “for you are less than nothing to me.”

  He slunk forward, shoulders hunched, as though he had been whipped and beaten. Rausch felt a pang of sympathy, but did not speak.

  “You spoke of freedom,” Lukas said, “that is all I wish for you to explain. If you desire it, if you possess the power to grant it, then do so. I will give you forgiveness in return.”

  Her eyes lit up at his words and she moved to seize his hands, but he pulled away.

  “Freedom, first,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I am no fool.”

  She nodded slowly, opening her mouth to speak and raising her hands. The hum rose to a piercing pitch, every ounce of energy in the forest vibrated under its power. The three men stood silently, enduring the painful noise with bated breath.

  Ziva spoke quickly under her breath, the words drowned by the fierce noise. Her eyes were closed, her palms raised toward the sky.

  A shudder went through the group, unexpectedly, and Rausch let out an audible gasp at the sensation. Lukas turned his head toward the cottage, hoping the noise would not rouse Aggie. Thankfully, the curtains were still and the only
light came from the window nearest the door. She was nowhere to be seen.

  “Something is-” Fantir spluttered, but his voice went quiet, drowned by the rush of wind and the howl of the air whipping through the branches.

  Lukas looked down at his own hands, a piercing tingle running over his skin. It seemed they were fading. Despite the darkness, he could see the solidity that once was his body becoming weaker.

  “Ziva,” he whispered, glancing back at the witch. Her hands were still outstretched and her eyes closed, but she had stopped speaking. “Will death come now?”

  He watched for an answer, but she did not stir. Rausch had been thinking the same as his body erupted in burning gooseflesh and his eyes began to grow weary. The wind grew still, the hum replaced by nothing but the soft birdsong of an early riser.

  “Lukas,” Rausch said, daring to step forward. “Are you alright?”

  “Do not trouble over me,” he replied, giving the old man a small smile but not removing his eyes from the witch. Sophie's body had begun to tremble and he worried more for her than the spirit that had seized her – even less for himself. “Keep still, Rausch, my friend. She has not finished, yet.”

  Ziva raised her face to the sky, her eyes flying open and a wide smile crossing her face. Her hands raised further upwards, a sense of triumph and victory emanating from her. Lukas stepped forward, but as he did she let out a shriek of laughter and convulsed violently before crumbling in a heap on the sodden forest floor.

  “Ziva!” Fantir cried, rushing forward.

  “Sophie,” Lukas whispered at the same time, arriving at the crumpled body first and cradling her neck in his hand.

  Her face was ashen and vacant, her eyes gently closed. No breath came to raise her chest, no sign of pulse flashed in her throat. Lukas leaned over her, anger and sorrow battling for a place in his heart.

  “No,” he heard Rausch whisper, “no, it cannot be. She cannot be-”

  “Where has she gone?” Fantir interrupted, flailing miserably, running from tree to tree. “She cannot have left me alone here.”