There were men grunting in the background and weapons being drawn. I assumed Alaire was fighting off our enemies on his own. It was impossible to tell how many there were, but Alaire wasn't at his best to fight them alone. The arrow piercing my skin, however, was not ordinary. No archer, no matter how skilled, could fire an arrow that struck through skin and dirt. That left only one explanation: White magicians were in Neutadt.
“Take it out!” I hissed.
Celestria jumped at the sound of my voice, and I regretted scaring her when she was in no better of a condition. Despite that, she stretched her arms over and gripped onto the arrow. I closed my eyes, imagining I was far away from the battle. Abruptly the pain took over, and the hopeful thoughts I had moments ago vanished. I screamed and clutched the area that was now bleeding.
“Are you okay? I'm so sorry,” Celestria said while also applying pressure on the wound.
“He'll be fine once he stops screaming,” another female voice said.
Swallowing back another scream, I slowly sat up. Though the pain was still present, I was more curious as to why Nicia had come to our rescue. Scanning the field for Alaire, I let out a sigh of relief upon seeing that hat he was still alive. More surprisingly, though, Rostland was fighting beside him.
“I need to help Alaire,” Celestria insisted.
Nicia held up her hand. “Trust me, no one can harm him when Rostland's fighting.”
Carefully she wrapped her arms around my waist and lifted up the tunic. Once it was completely off she snatched the dagger from my belt and cut off a sleeve. The sleeve was then wrapped around my arm, though when I glanced down I noticed the blood quickly soaked the fabric.
“Who are you?” Celestria asked.
I groaned, wishing I had the strength to warn her that these people were not our friends.
Ignoring my agitation, she replied, “I'm Nicia. I suppose you've been Leal's secret these past couple of days?”
“Celestria, and I'm not a secret. Are you a Dark magician?”
Nicia chuckled, but when she glanced over at me she stopped. Instead we turned our attention to the battle. There were two men fighting Alarie and Rostland, and one of them had a bow and arrow on his back. Alaire was using spells against them, though his footing suggested that he was exhausted. Both of the men had swords, which they wielded, but Rostland fought them off with a sword of his own. The noise of swords clashing together might as well have been a waterfall. The cemetery was clearly visible in town, and anyone nearby would be able to hear us. However, I gazed past the gates and saw the merchants carrying on with their duties. This battle could reveal our true identities to the entire town in a matter of minutes.
Gravely, Nicia remarked, “Someone's using a protection spell. It's the only reason any of us are alive right now. If this fight doesn't end soon we'll be sentenced to our deaths.”
“A protection spell? Who's performing it?” Celestria asked.
She shrugged, though evidently deep in thought. “I've never seen Alaire perform the spell, so either he has a few tricks up his sleeve or someone else is monitoring this fight.”
One of the men aimed to strike Alaire, but Rostland pushed him aside. The sword went through his chest, but he quickly ripped it out and struck down our opponent. The other magician backed away, pleading Rostland to have mercy.
“There's no time,” Nicia murmured.
Though Rostland lowered his weapon, Alaire jumped up and grabbed it. He struck the other magician down, hitting him a second time to be certain that he was dead. I held my breath, watching as Rostland held out his hand and waited. I could remember clearly the nights when I had been in Rostland's position, and I feared what it would be like for Alaire to return to such a past. After a few minutes he dropped the sword in Rostland's hand, and then he ran to where we were.
Standing up and dusting off her dress, Nicia said, “We'll take care of the bodies. The spell has been dropped, so you might want to return home quickly.”
“Why did you save us?” I asked, gazing up at her.
The bloody arrow was lying in her palm. In one quick movement she snapped it in half and dropped the pieces on the ground.
“I'm always on your side, even now when I am an outcast. We are not your enemies nor do we ever wish to be,” she responded. She joined Rostland and helped lift the bodies; they started toward the forest.
Silently, Celestria stood up and offered me a hand. I accepted, wincing from the stinging pain. Gavril would have to mend my wounds, but I knew enough about arrows to reassure myself that one hit in the arm would not kill me. The three of us walked together in silence, though when I glanced over Alaire was staring at Celestria. He held guilt in his eyes just as he had years ago when he would return at night with blood on his hands. We approached the house, but at the door Celestria stopped and turned to Alaire. She handed him something, and taking a closer look, I saw that it was his necklace.
“I want you to wear it. It kept me safe, and now it can protect you,” he insisted, pushing away her hand.
She sighed. “You killed that man when he was begging for his life. Did you consider his life for even a second?”
“Of course I did. I'm not proud of my actions, but I did it to protect us,” Alaire replied.
I touched her shoulder and added, “That man would have revealed our location if he had lived.”
Stepping closer to Alaire, she asked, “And Hunter?”
Alaire dropped his head, but she lifted it up. Calmly, he responded, “He is dead. I made a promise to you, and I would never go back on my word.”
Seemingly satisfied, she clipped the necklace back onto her neck. I opened the door, turning around in time to see Alaire reveal the ring and slip it on her finger.
“Welcome to Destin, Celestria,” he said with a faint smile.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hopes of Meeting Again
From the moment Alaire slipped the ring on Celestria's finger, we had changed history. It was more than breaking every rule Esmour set, but Celestria had no idea what she had become a part of. Destin was as dead as the magicians who lost their lives, but the aftermath still lingered. Our innocent redhead would either become a flame or a canon. She could restore what had been lost or easily destroy all that remained. For the time being none of that mattered. We rushed into the house, seeking out Gavril's assistance. He was descending the staircase when he noticed us, and his eyes darted to my wound.
“See to Celestria first. She had some kind of episode outside,” I ordered, waving his attention to her.
Though he opened his mouth, he quickly swallowed his argument and rushed to Celestria. Some of the servants nearby were staring at us, but my injury was minor enough that their simply minds would not connect it with magic. Even so, Gavril led us to the lounge and cleared the room out. Forcing Celestria and I to sit, he first began examining her.
“I feel fine,” she sighed, and then pointing to her body, she added, “Do you see any blood?”
“What happened outside? Can you tell me about that?” Gavril asked in a soft tone. He held her hand, rubbing it gently, but he sucked in his upper lip as the seconds slipped away without any response.
“Celestria, what happened out there?” Alaire asked, stepping forward and hovering over the chair.
I contemplated blurting out everything I had witnessed, but I was aware that would not help Celestria's denial. I was a bit taken back by how quickly she was able to say everything was fine. The trembling and the anxiety had to mean something, and if Gavril and Alaire couldn't figure it out I would.
“What I saw is not something I am comfortable with sharing,” Celestria said, though she was staring directly at Gavril.
He remained unaffected by the insult and responded with, “I carry secrets of men who have long since died. Whatever it is, you can trust me.”
“I-I saw images in my head. I have no explanation for them, but perhaps my brain is still recovering,” she replied, tapping her f
ingers against the arm of the chair.
“Visions,” Alaire murmured.
With a blank stare, Gavril began tending to my arm. He rested his hand against the cloth and closed his eyes. If the wound was minor it was possible that healing would not require much time. While he worked I looked from Celestria to Alaire. She had always smiled in his presence, but her face was grave at the mentioning of visions. I was curious why Alaire would offer it as an explanation when he knew so little on the topic. We had learned important facts about foreseers, but Esmour never revealed anything in great detail. It seemed unlikely for Celestria to be a foreseer when they, like magicians, were born with their abilities.
Celestria's voice raised, breaking through my thoughts. “Why must you insist that these are visions? Something is not right in my head. What did Aldemund do to me?!”
Alaire held his finger against her lips, but she quickly slapped his hand away.
“Would being a foreseer be such a burden? I can help you, but you have to be willing to admit it to yourself,” Alaire insisted, remaining calm.
She stood up and started pacing around the room. Alaire's eyes followed her, but I wondered how he was able to hide his feelings from her. She was a princess: beautiful, dignified, and untouched. You could fall in love with her in an instant, and she'd never know. Watching her, I could see that she was trying to piece together something. Perhaps Alaire had every right to be in love with her, but my heart was not as easily convinced.
At last Celestria stopped halfway across the room and turned to face Alaire.
“I saw a child—a little girl—wearing your necklace. I saw graves and fresh blood, and... It all felt real, and I thought it would kill me,” she said.
The room was still; no one moved or spoke a word. Even Gavril stopped mending my wound, and it seemed like time itself was frozen. Alaire stared at her, but if he had anything to say he seemed at a loss of words. Abruptly the door creaked open and a maid entered. She approached me, dropped a folded piece of paper in the room, and then left as the unbearable silence returned. The paper only had one word written on it: “lake.” Perhaps it was time to show Celestria a part of our world. Standing up, I acknowledged Gavril for his fine work and then crumbled up the message in my hand.
Turning to Celestria, I said, “It's time I show you who we are. Walk with me?”
I held out my hand, and after risking one last glance at Alaire she accepted. Alaire walked the opposite way to stand by the fireplace. As we stepped out of the room I listened for footsteps, but he never followed us. For this one time he was allowing Celestria to leave from his sight. All the while I remembered the secret he kept from her, and I convinced myself that I would not fall for a woman as he did. Together Celestria and I ventured outside, though I noticed her attention was on the cemetery again.
“Are you sure it's safe?” Celestria asked, walking several steps behind me.
I chuckled. “I wouldn't place you in danger. There might be someone waiting for us by the lake. Either way, stay alert.”
At that I heard a yelp, and when I turned around Celestria was on the ground. She was up on her feet again before I could offer any help, but she didn't appear injured from the fall. We continued on, and as we ventured deeper into the forest we got closer to the lake. The last time I had visited the lake was for Esmour's burning, and I dreaded being close to him and Rahela again. Regardless, I kept a straight face and hoped Celestria couldn't see right through me. She always walked behind me, though I realized she might have a lot plaguing her mind. Whatever happened in the cemetery was familiar to her, and for that I could forgive her lack of focus.
Breaking the silence, Celestria commented, “We never had a forest in my hometown. I think it's lovely here.”
I noticed another tree limb sticking out in the ground and stopped, gesturing for Celestria to be careful. She stepped over it gracefully, and we continued walking side by side.
“I wish I could say the same, but this town has been tainted for many years. I don't know what you've heard about Destin, but we aren't terrible people,” I said, though I wondered how she could ever understand who we were.
“Do good people hide secrets from each other?” she asked.
The question threw me off, and she smirked at my hesitation.
Staring ahead, I replied, “It's human nature to hide information that could destroy you. I want the truth just as badly as anyone else, but unfortunately there are more puzzles to solve than secrets to share.”
The sound of the current was much louder now, and within a few minutes we were standing at the lake. The lake looked the same as it had the night Esmour died, and I briefly raised a hand to my forehead with the memory of blood covering one side of my face. Wincing, I gradually turned and saw the bed of lilacs. I had expected the flowers to be dead, but they looked healthy and fresh like someone planted new ones since the funeral.
“Is something the matter?” Celestria asked, glancing from the flower to me.
Clearing my throat, I said, “Many magicians have lost their lives in this forest. Esmour, for instance, rests at the bottom of the lake.”
She continued staring blankly. “Did he drown?”
“No, but we burned his body in the lake so he could rest without any disturbances,” I responded.
There was a sudden stick that snapped, and the sound of footsteps followed. Someone was approaching us, but with each passing second I was less certain that it was Malin. He had left before Destin’s downfall. By returning, he’d be risking everything. It felt wrong, and turning to Celestria, I motioned for her to be quiet. Retrieving the message from my vest, I looked more closely at the writing. It appeared more elegant than Malin’s handwriting, and I had read over his letter enough times to confirm that this was not him. That left me to face my fear that someone knew exactly where we were and how to trick us. The footsteps were closer now, and I could see a cloak brushing against the bushes. A man had come to meet us by the lake, but he was not Malin. How had I not realized sooner? The message was exactly like what Esmour had done for missions. We had walked into a trap, and worst of all I didn’t know if Celestria had the strength to fight.
The man grinned widely, and then said, “Hello Celestria; I had hoped we would meet again.”
Drawing back his hood, he revealed his long hair. I gasped, recognizing both his voice and appearance. Christopher was alive. His crooked smile reminded me of Aldemund, but what surprised me the most was that he appeared to be alone.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, “If you die during this fight we won’t have to meet again.”
Raising my hand, a cloud of smoke struck him down. He quickly jumped up and cast a spell. A handful of arrows flew through the air, and as I tried to dodge them they continued to follow my every move. Whispering a spell, I froze the arrows and then formed fists and watched the weapons shatter into pieces on the ground. Christopher continued to smirk, and I wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk off his face. Even so, I hadn’t forgotten that he was a Light magician. As if looking into my mind, he performed the spell I had been dreading. A beaming light started to form, and with one hand covering my face, I ran toward Celestria.
“Get down!” I called out.
She knelt down, slowly allowing her body to lay in the grass. I crawled to where she was and pushed her head down. The light would burn; it always did after several minutes of forming. That left us with enough time to think of a counter spell. Though I didn’t know if it was safe for Celestria to perform magic, my spells would be stronger with her help.
Pressing my lips to her ear, I said, “Trust me?”
“Always,” she replied.
With my free hand I held hers and started changing a spell. She repeated the words with me, but the light was growing stronger. It was manifesting to take a path of its own and thin streaks of light were leaking through my hand. We said the last verse of the chant, and then a large red orb leaped into the sky. It burned against the light
beaming down on us, and I held Celestria against my body in case I could not overpower Christopher’s spell. She held onto me, and I reached down and retrieved my dagger.
At last red sparks lit up the sky, and the beaming light slowly faded away. Celestria released me, and I headed to where Christopher stood. The dagger in my hand illuminated with a light blue glow. The tip would be icy cold, and it would make Christopher’s death slow and painful. However, he did not show the slightest sign of concern. Then he did something that no one could have foreseen. He raised his hands and dropped his own dagger on the ground. All the while he kept his arms raised either suggesting another spell or surrender. I stopped a few feet away form him, debating if this was another trap.
"Perhaps the rumors are true; you fight with as much determination as they say your old man once did. Mind you, I could kill you right now if I really wanted to," Christopher said.
"You're letting us live?" Celestria asked, though she remained on the ground where I left her.
Slowly lowering his arms to his side, he replied, "On the contrary I'm letting you suffer. Someone told me about Leal's paranoia, so instead of killing you today I will wait."
There was a pause as his eyes drifted over to me, and then he continued. "It starts like this with little attacks, and then before you know it you become a prisoner in your own home. The waiting will drive you mad, never knowing when one battle ends and another begins. I want you to lay in bed at night clinging onto your dear life, remembering that I can walk inside whenever I please."
I gripped more firmly onto my dagger. "What makes you certain that you'll live long enough to terrorize me?"
Christopher snickered and held out his hands wide, revealing a perfect shot to kill him.
"I welcome the challenge," he said.
I was aware that he was testing me to see how far he could push before I lost it. There was nothing I could do to control my actions. The shot was clear, the dagger was waiting in my hand, and all it would take was one strike through the heart. I could do it without blinking, but someone grabbed my arm just as I was about to aim.
Shadows and Embers Page 20