Flare of Villainy: The Imdalind Series, Book 10

by Ethington, Rebecca

  The black swallowed me as the sound of my struggling heart faded, the ghostly whispers of the memory replacing it.

  “Relax your body; do not think of the movement you are about to accomplish.” The words returned in a rush of calm, the breathy whisper one that I had only heard a few times before.

  The sound spun through my mind as I did through the black.

  The broken fragments of my memory returned as the warmth of air and magic ran over my skin. Her skin was warm underneath mine as I placed my hands on her arms, careful not to pull her against me. She was so close.

  “Focus only on the wind. Focus on its movement, on its warmth. Focus on how your magic will bring it to you. Do not worry, Joclyn; I will never let you fall” I spoke in the same breathy whisper as I gave into my need for her, pulling her against me.

  The memory flickered, my heart faltering as everything sputtered back into blackness. Everything was gone but the ragged breathing and the pressure of her against me.

  The feeling of empowering love faded, the emotion mutating into an unwanted anxiety as everything began to shift. The sound of the wind reduced to a low rumble that grated in my bones. It took me a moment to realize what it was, the memory falling into place.

  Rocks.

  Rocks that ground and slid against each other as they shifted, preparing to come down on top of us.

  “I am going to blow the rest of the cave open.” My snap echoed through the dark, my determination rumbling over the roar of rocks as flickers of lights began to appear, the multicolor specks feeling out of place. “I will be able to hold the ceiling for enough time for us to get to Rioseco. No matter what happens, do not stop.”

  “And, Joclyn?” Someone asked, the world beginning to populate as the brightly colored lights illuminated a cave, a man with long dreads shifting into view.

  The man from the beach. My brother.

  I had never seen him so clearly in my memory. I had never spoken to him, and yet here he was.

  His face and clothes were filthy, the ratted holey things hanging off his bony frame as he stood in the middle of a cave. My brother jumped at the roar of the mountain, glancing from me, to the girl that I held in my arms. She felt different than she had in the forest. Her small frame wasn’t stable, her limbs flopped around like a rag doll as I shifted her weight against me.

  Her life was gone.

  “I will carry her. She is my responsibility.”

  Rocks crashed loudly, drowning out my voice as the memory of the cave fell away, leaving me to tumble through the nothing before I froze, standing in the middle of the same black hole that had peppered the fragments of my memories.

  Then there was only silence.

  Only black, as I stood, the tension growing in my chest as I waited.

  I didn't dare move. How could I, for all I knew one step could denote death as whatever subconscious prison I was trapped in was be shattered.

  It shattered anyway, not by the sounds on my end, but by Joclyn’s beautiful laugh.

  The laugh cut through the tension like a knife, pulling my focus as I turned, only to come face to face with her as she smiled.

  “You must choose to make the joy your focus,” she said, the words jarring as she responded to the fear in my mind.

  Her hair floated around her head as though she was standing by the sea; even though it was just us standing amongst a dark nothing, only ourselves visible.

  “Find happiness?” I whispered, a heavy uneasiness keeping me from moving forward.

  “Yes,” she sighed, the wind tugging at her, at the loose-fitting sweater she wore. The breeze was strong enough that I was sure I should feel something, yet there was nothing. “It’s a choice, isn’t it? Have you chosen to be happy, Ilyan?”

  The weak girl who soared through the trees was gone, but so was the powerful woman I had spent so many beachside dreams with. The way she smiled, the way she glanced at me… It couldn't be her, and yet, I could feel something deep inside of me pull towards her, scream for her.

  “Joclyn?”

  She smiled, pushing more hair out of her face as she took a tentative step forward.

  “You have to choose to be happy,” she said, the unfamiliar glance digging deep. “If you don’t choose joy, you will never experience it.”

  “That sounds familiar.” My voice was a little more than a gasp as some memory tried to pull its way out of the pit of my subconscious, only the whisper of an older man made its way through.

  “Dramin would say that to you for decades while you waited for her,” she paused, her eyes focused far past me and into the blackness that surrounded us. “He would say it to Joclyn…”

  “To Joclyn,” I interrupted her, her focus pulling to me as an unfamiliar smile threatened the corners of her mouth. “But aren’t you..?”

  “You know that I am not,” she said, that same foreign smile twitching around the corners of her mouth, “Your soul has already told you as much.”

  For years I had known that the Joclyn I lay on the beach with was just a fabrication, but she was so similar to the girl from my dreams that I never questioned it was her.

  But this woman had stolen the woman I loved so much and invaded my mind. I wanted to destroy her, to rip her apart and cast her into the darkness.

  I could feel my temper growing, the need to destroy her growing. There was something else there, however, that stopped me. Something that was drawing me to her.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am part of you, the part that is missing,” she spoke in a singsong voice, like the words were a riddle. Although I was sure the words were meant to help, they only befuddled me more. My quickly growing urgency for who she was made it hard for me to see the possibility in the words.

  Wait.

  What.

  What she was, not who.

  My eyes narrowed as hers widened as if she knew what was coming.

  “What are you?”

  Her smile brightened as she stepped forward, that same internal battle raging over, pulling away, and rushing closer. Instead, I stood still, fingers clenching and unclenching against the tense muscles in my thighs.

  “That is the right question.” Her hair continued to blow in the wind, tangling over the bright silver eyes that bored into me. Although she was less than a foot from me, I still felt nothing.

  Not even a whisper of the breeze.

  My heart rampaged, pulling for her. Needing her. The emotion was familiar, but it was not the love I felt for Joclyn.

  It was not the same.

  This was a hunger.

  The feeling was feral, like I was an animal that needed to take possession of this woman. Possession of whatever she was. The unwanted need twisted in my gut and I stepped away from her, her smile falling as her eyes flashed darkly.

  “Why don't you want me?” she asked, the danger in her eyes growing further. “You have been searching for me, haven't you? I am right here, Ilyan.”

  “You are not Joclyn.” I was surprised by the hostility in my own voice.

  “I know.” Her coy response only flared my anger more.

  “I have been searching for my…” I stalled.

  The word that fit Joclyn was lost. I could feel it there, the memory waiting for me.

  “For your what?” she taunted, the haunting anger beginning to fade as she teased. “For your wife? Your mate?”

  My heart was a thunder. It beat against my ribs painfully as the memory I had seen before of me braiding her hair replayed in my mind. The image made no sense, but it didn't matter. I knew she was telling the truth. She was my wife. My mate. This memory was the moment she became that.

  No wonder I longed for her, she was my other half.

  “No, she is more than that,” the imposter said, the abrupt answer to my thoughts pulling me out of my memories.

  The woman’s eyes sparkled now, all sign of her temper from before gone. “She is the other part of your soul.”

  “My soul,” I repe
ated, the knot in my chest constricting as she once again stepped closer, my heart battling again with both need and frustration. “That is what you are. You are my soul.”

  It wasn't a question. I was certain. It didn't get the reaction I had expected, however.

  “No.” Any sign of a smile was gone now, her jaw was tight, her words sinking into me as much as her stare. “I am more important than that.”

  I could only stare at her, keeping the rocks of my fists against my thighs as she stepped closer, her hair and clothing blowing and flapping in the ethereal wind.

  “I am not really enjoying this game you are playing,” I growled, finally taking a step away from her.

  “Aren't you?” I wasn’t sure if she was playing or pushing, but it didn’t matter. The way she looked at me still sparked loud and clear.

  “No.” The single word was little more than a growl. “Tell me what you are.”

  No matter how much I longed for whatever this imposter was, she was still just that. I didn’t want her here.

  “But you are enjoying the way you want me, the way you are screaming for me…”

  “You are not Joclyn!” I roared, the anger that she had been prodding finally breaking free. Instead of stepping back, however, she grinned. A laugh threatening to break free as she reached toward me again.

  “No, I am your magic.”

  The anger froze.

  My breath froze.

  Everything held still, except for the invisible wind that tumbled through her hair.

  “I am all that is left of your magic from when you died.” She stepped closer, but this time I couldn't step away, I could barely breathe.

  When I died.

  I had always known. I had focused so much on that bloodstained wall in the beginning. I knew what it was.

  “Explain.” The single word whispered in a gasp.

  “You died that night in the cave, and your sister sacrificed herself to rectify a wrong.” She stalled, her words hitting hard as a million sparks of memories began to make sense. “She chose to rectify a lifetime of wrongs.”

  “Ovailia.” Saying her name was a pain in my heart, a physical stab that twisted against my soul, one piece of the puzzle suddenly making sense.

  “You have lived without your memories long enough, but I wonder what you would choose, given the chance?”

  She paused, stepping away from me for the first time. Instead of relaxing at the motion, however, I tensed, scared I was going to lose her.

  “The chance…”

  “If I could return your memories right now,” she interrupted, turning her back on me as a tiny spark of white light erupted deep into of the black. “Would you take them over your magic? Would you sacrifice power for the knowledge of who you are?”

  “Which will take me to Joclyn?”

  “To your wife?” she clarified, still looking toward the light that was now bright enough to frame her in a yellow glow.

  “Yes. Which will take me to my wife.” My heart fluttered at the word on my tongue, the emotion swelling comfortably and I sighed.

  “Neither.” The word was a stab in my heart. “One will give you knowledge, but take away your power to reach her. The other will give you power, but you will not know where to find her.”

  The eyes of the imposter grew dark, the entire surface plunging into the abyss as she stared into me. The glow from behind her dimmed as she lifted her hands, one cradling the fist of the other as the light began to seep through her closed fingers.

  I stared at the light, my body filled with both familiarity and need, that same feral emotion now desperate to jump on her, to take whatever she held and reclaim it as my own.

  “I told you I am small. I am all that is left of a power that was once a great flood.” She opened her hand.

  The light that I had seen behind her was condensed into a pebble in the palm of her hand.

  “I am not strong enough anymore,” she whispered, closing her hand over the light.

  My hand jerked toward the light, desperate to grab it. It was a small motion, but the woman noticed, smiling at me sadly as she once again stepped closer, her hand held between us as lines of light spread from below.

  “You must find Joclyn, Ilyan,” she pleaded as she opened her hand again. The light swelled into the dark, lifting from her palm as it began to pulse with the tiniest fade. “She is your mate, she holds your magic safe. She is the only one who can return what was lost, who can bring back your memories, who can return you to who you once were.”

  Her words were a mumble in the back of my mind, my focus still on the light, on the way it pulsed, on the way it called to me…

  “Ilyan,” she said, her voice a roar. “You must find her.”

  “How am I supposed to find someone that I can barely remember?” I didn't even try to keep the gruff desperation from flooding my words.

  “Do you choose to remember then?” The question caught me off guard.

  Instead of answering, I just stared at her, jaw working as I looked at her and the tiny pebble of magic that hovered above my head. My heart pulled and ached with a need, two separate desires; one fueled in desperation, one fueled by passion.

  I could feel them both. But only one scared me to possess. Only one scared me to lose.

  “I wish to find my wife.” Referring to her as what she was to me was a breath of fresh air. “I would die to see her one last time. To hold her in my arms. To remember her.”

  The imposter smiled, the light in her eyes shining so brightly that for one moment I was sure it was Joclyn, that I had gotten my wish and she had been returned to me.

  It was only a mirage.

  The wind around her picked up as she opened her hand between us, the tiny ball of light flew back into her hand, pulsing between us again. The rhythm suddenly made sense.

  The pulse of a heart.

  As I watched it, however, I knew that it was not my heart. The beat was not mine, it was not the phantom that stood before me.

  It was hers.

  “Joclyn,” I gasped, my fingers floating toward the orb again.

  “Joclyn will return your magic. She will return your power. I will give you the memories I have of her. Of your life.”

  “Wait…” I tried to interrupt.

  “They are the keys to finding the other half to your soul,” she continued on, ignoring me. “But you must hurry. You are an Ancient, I am not sure what a loss of your magic will do to you. I do not know how you will fare once I am gone.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I am giving myself to you,” she whispered, lifting her hand up toward me, streams of light flooding through the tiny gaps in her fingers.

  The ribbons of light streamed over us, but this time the shadows on her face were not filled with the same beauty and hunger as they had been before. This time there was a sadness there, a pain that I could feel infecting me, seeping through me like a cold shower.

  The pain left as she opened her hand, flooding us with light and bringing back the feral need in a groan that ripped from my chest.

  “I am giving you all that I have, all that I am, so that you can find her. So that you can find yourself, so that you can return me to what I truly am. So that you can be what you truly are.” Her voice was so soft I had to strain to hear her, the emotion, the pain, growing as she stepped even closer, her hand almost touching my chest.

  “My magic…”

  “For your memories,” she interrupted me with a paralyzing gasp, the pain rampaging through her and right into me.

  “How can I reach her if I don’t have my magic? I am not even sure if I am alive.” A different kind of fear racked through me, a genuine terror that I didn’t know how to compute.

  It was my magic that had kept me alive for years, that had continued to heal me as I was tortured. I didn’t know what awaited me outside of my dreams, outside of my memories. I didn’t know if I could survive it without that power.

  “You are alive,�
�� she gasped, her free hand lifting toward me, her flat palm hovering inches from my shoulder, so close I swear I could feel her make contact. “You are safe. Your body is healed.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You must find your mate, Ilyan.” I was well aware that she was not answering my question, but it didn’t matter. I trusted her.

  “She will reignite the power, she will bring your strength back when you find her. But you have to find her.”

  “I will.”

  “Find your mate, Ilyan,” she whispered, tears flowing down her cheeks. “She is waiting for you.”

  She looked at me one last time, the deep silver in her eyes glinting before she slammed her hand into my chest, pressing the bright light into the skin that spread over my heart.

  A pain as though I had been stabbed rippled over my skin, rattling my bones as agony spread over me. I looked down in horror, expecting to see my chest covered in blood. Instead, each of the scars that criss-crossed over my chest was glowing with the same light that had beamed from her hand.

  “What…”

  “Find her, Ilyan.” Her words were like wind, the syllables swept away as if she was nothing more than dust. “Find her.”

  “I will find her.” I gasped, the words as breathy as the air that rattled around me.

  The force of the wind grew as I fell into the space around me, power and magic dragging me through nothing.

  Nothing but black.

  “I will find her,” I said, my voice an odd gasp when the falling stopped, as the world changed, to a mattress cradling my body.

  And I opened my eyes to a vase of freshly cut flowers.

  17

  Ilyan

  The flowers were fresh.

  I could smell them from where I lay on yet another hospital bed. I could see each fleck of pollen on the low hanging stamens. See the detail on the tiny drops of dew that covered the petals. I stared at the bright red petals as wide beams of light fell over them, the unfamiliar beauty streaming from the white-curtained windows to a cracked stone floor.

  The stone was similar to what I had used in the bathrooms in Rioseco, it had taken me months to find the perfect….