Vortex Chronicles: The Complete Series (Air Awakens: Vortex Chronicles)

by Elise Kova

  Vi half-wheezed, half-retched, gasping desperately for a breath of fresh air—for sound, liberating sound from the deadly silence that surrounded her. There was nothing but silence and death. It was then that her eyes turned skyward.

  The heavens had been broken.

  An all-black sky, void of stars, was ripped apart by a bloody slash trimmed at the edges with white. Drifting through the bleeding fragments of a broken cosmos was the form of a serpentine, winged monster, wide talons dipping to tear off pieces of the world below. Red lightning cracked around its body, as if charged by the ripping of reality itself.

  Vaguely, the terrifying imagery registered to her through the words of crones and soothsayers. They had spoken of an apocalypse, of a reckoning where all souls would be summoned to the Father’s realms—a day where the sky itself would shatter and the world as they all knew it would come to an end. But Vi had never heard the tales spoken in this much horrifying detail.

  The dragon roared and the world shuddered, vibrating with a sound that she couldn’t hear. Vi may have screamed, but there was still no sound in her ears. The monster turned its gaze toward her and she was filled with the same sensation she’d felt the moment the diseased noru and the lightning man in her vision had looked to her.

  It saw her and it wanted her.

  She raised her hands on instinct to shield herself, to make herself small. She wanted it to end, to be free of the horrific images she was being inundated with. No vision until now had been this horribly vivid and she would not be able to endure should it continue.

  “Make it stop!” The sound of her own voice broke the trance.

  Darkness, the blissful darkness of the backs of her eyelids, filled her sight, and when Vi opened her eyes again, the world was as she knew it. She staggered and sank, her trembling knees no longer able to bear her weight. Gasping through fingers holding in silent screams at the horror she’d witnessed, Vi continued to stare wide-eyed at where her fire had been. Surely, surely, there was some mistake.

  That wasn’t their future. It couldn’t be.

  Gasping, Vi relished in the sound of her voice and the familiar cool darkness of the North in winter. A pair of boots, illuminated by hazy glyphs, appeared in her field of vision. Vi followed them up to the intricately embroidered coat Taavin always wore, along the scar on his cheek, and to his eyes.

  “What did you see?” he asked grimly.

  “The end of the world.” The words didn’t sound like her own. They were detached, removed, split from her body. What she now could never unsee would forever change her.

  “Tell me everything.”

  Vi recounted the vision in as much detail as she could bear. For as difficult as it was, doing so gave her some clarity. It removed the initial shock and horror and turned the sights into something to be analyzed.

  When Vi had finished, she asked, “This dark god you speak of—Raspian—and his followers… the White Death… they’re all linked, aren’t they?”

  She didn’t want him to nod. This was the one time in her life where Vi desperately wanted to be wrong.

  “They are.”

  Vi let out a string of curses that would make her tutors blush. Taavin stayed silent, allowing her to reach the end of her list before speaking again. Curses were cathartic, but they weren’t going to help them get anywhere. Vi tried to remember everything he had told her following her last vision.

  “The elfin’ra, you said they were sealed away on Salvidia?”

  “They were.”

  Past tense. “What changed? Why is all this happening now?”

  “Raspian and his followers were sealed away by the goddess in their last, ancient struggle for power over this realm… but nineteen years ago, that seal was broken. Since then, his evil, his pure chaotic energy, has been seeping into the world—twisting it. And his followers, who were also set free with it, now seek a way to bring his full return.”

  If everything he said was true, it meant there was no cure for the White Death. Her father had left for nothing. Her people sought a cure that could never be found.

  No one on Solaris knew how desperate their situation was, but her.

  “Taavin, these visions I see at the apexes… are they what will be, or what may be?”

  “What will be, should the world progress without any changes in course.”

  “So, then, the course can be changed?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Vi breathed a sigh of relief, even though a corner of her mind still refused to believe it. Normal future sight—by a Firebearer—was generally regarded as absolute truth. But Vi wasn’t exactly a Firebearer. So she’d have to take Taavin’s word for it.

  “How do we make sure?”

  “Just as there have been apexes of fate in the past, there will be apexes in the future. Places where—”

  “—the world changed or places where it could still be changed,” she finished for him, remembering what he had said when she first asked. Vi finally pulled herself off the ground, feeling stronger. “So we need to find future apexes, and make sure we shift fate there.” Simple logic, but Vi expected it to be much more difficult in practice. “How do we find them?”

  “I will need to study… and record your vision to compare against my notes on my own dreams as I look for the next apex for you.”

  She wanted to go now. She wanted him to have the answers immediately, and Vi shifted from foot to foot in an effort to let out some of the restless energy. Vi let out a deep sigh, trying to let go of the strange tremors rippling through her.

  “Are you afraid?” Taavin cut through her racing thoughts.

  “What? No.” Vi folded her hands before her to keep them still.

  “You should be. Only a fool wouldn’t be.”

  “I—”

  “Go and rest now, Vi. I have work to do.” He vanished.

  Vi stared at where Taavin had just stood. “Are you happy to have the last word?” Vi mumbled at the thin air, before turning and leaving.

  Dark gods, plagues, fate… Vi was wrapped up in her thoughts as she slowly made her way back through the fortress. For the first time in her life, Vi felt small.

  There was a red flash in the darkness, nearly identical to what she had seen the night she’d snuck out. Vi looked up, pulled back to reality, and squinted into the dark. Her exhaustion had vanished entirely, heart racing.

  Her feet stopped halfway across the walkway she’d been traversing. She was frozen still by the silhouette of a figure blocking the path forward.

  Vi narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out if the person was male or female. Male… probably, she decided, based on the broadness in his shoulders. The wind rustled the trees above her, the light catching on his eyes again, and Vi’s breath caught in her throat with a strangled choke.

  Distinctly red eyes set on ghostly pale skin were narrowed directly at her.

  He had a similar jaw line to Taavin’s, a narrow bridge to his nose, and Vi knew if she peeled back the man’s hood she’d see pointed ears. She’d seen creatures of this type before, recently, even. But never standing in the present.

  Her whole body went icy.

  “Wh-who are you?” Vi whispered, struggling to keep her voice level. She hated the weak quiver that caught the beginning of the first word.

  The man unsheathed a narrow dagger. It had the same markings on the side as the one the leader of the acolytes had held in her vision—the elfin'ra. It further contributed to the surreal nature of everything happening around her. Those creatures were on another land, far away. They weren’t here.

  Vi took a step back, glancing over her shoulder. Her room was still three stories up. This was the most direct route… but there was an alternate if she took a shortcut through a storage hall.

  “What do you want with me?” Vi whispered, debating when she needed to make her break for it.

  “The champion’s blood for Lord Raspian.” The words slithered from his mouth, curling through the air with pure malice,
curdling in her ears.

  The man lunged for her. Vi had barely a second to react. Her hand lifted, palm outstretched between them.

  “Juth!” she cried. The symbol exploded from her palm, imperfect and half-formed in her haste. It shattered under the weight of its own power mid-air, casting sparks down on either side of the walkway like the embers of a firework. But Vi didn’t have time to appreciate them.

  She was already running.

  Vi dashed back into the tree behind her. The elfin’ra’s footsteps were close behind. Vi made a hard left, turning for a cramped passage that led to a narrow stair. At least here there was no way he could flank her.

  There was a grunt behind her right as she jumped for the stairs. Vi turned just in time to see the flash of the dagger in the dim moonlight. It narrowly missed the back of her heel. If he’d sliced the tendon, it would’ve been the end of her.

  “Juth!” Vi attempted a second time.

  But as she raised her hand, the elfin’ra was already speaking, preempting her motions. “Juth mariy,” he snarled.

  Vi’s magic fizzled beneath her palm. In her shock, she stumbled at the top of the stair, half rolling down the narrow hall. The horrifying creature stalked closer, his red eyes piercing the darkness as easily as it pierced her soul.

  “You are the champion?” The question was a cross between shock and condescending amusement. “I am to believe you are Yargen’s chosen?”

  Vi glanced to her right, where a towering shelf stood freely alongside where the man was approaching, dagger still in hand. At least, she hoped it stood freely.

  “Juth.” Vi tried again. This time, she did not telegraph her attempt with a movement of her hand, nor did she direct it at the man. Instead, the front legs of the shelf burned away in a white-hot burst of fire.

  Off-balance, it was sent toppling over, and Vi scrambled to her feet, running again.

  One more flight of stairs; she didn’t look back. Across one more rope bridge and she’d be at her room and there… there she would… what?

  Her room had always been her haven. Her safe place. But now it would be a secluded area for her to die. There was nothing there that could protect her any more than where she now stood.

  Vi looked around frantically, her head spinning with every sway of the rope bridge beneath her feet. There had to be a warrior patrolling somewhere who could help her. Her eyes scanned every passage and walkway, seeing no one. It was as if she were the only one left alive in the whole fortress.

  A cry for help rose in her throat, stopping as she turned toward the sudden creaking on the bridge behind her. The man was mid-lunge. His ominously glowing dagger was tracked over her chest.

  He was going to kill her.

  Vi looked down at her feet. If she was going to die, she’d take him with her.

  “Juth,” she said, one last time, watching as his eyes went wide and the bridge exploded into flames beneath their feet.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The night rushed around her.

  She’d known the sky trees were tall, but Vi had never really heeded Jax’s warnings when it came to how tall. It seemed she would fall forever. Every second seemed longer than a hundred years and yet she knew it would be over all too soon.

  Vi reached upward on instinct, flailing through the air, looking for a branch or walkway. But she couldn’t find a hold. Surely, there was a window she could grab onto? Somewhere? Her nails ripped back, the pads of her fingers scraped off against rough bark.

  There was a flash of red light—the elfin’ra was performing some kind of magic. Vi braced herself. She could almost feel the magic spinning at the man’s whim—a twisted distortion of the power she knew, yet so similar it was painful.

  All she could do was wait for it to strike her and then she’d be—

  Two hands closed around her sides. She slipped through their grasp. They dug into her shoulders, friction ripping through her clothes. The fingertips pressed further into the meat of her arms. They gripped and didn’t let go.

  Vi heard a shout, but it was cut off abruptly as she swung face first into the tree she’d been trying to catch herself on.

  Everything went dark.

  She was falling.

  Above her were the trees of Shaldan, shadowed and faded like ghosted sentries peering down at her through a hole that became smaller and smaller the longer she fell. The ruins she’d explored in the jungle passed her. Countless eyes, peering through the darkness, stared only at her, waiting.

  What were they waiting for?

  Why did they look at her as if they knew her?

  Her questions went unanswered. She didn’t scream. The wind whizzed around her; she must be falling fast, but her stomach was settled. Vi felt calm. She was sinking into something familiar, warm. She accepted the waiting darkness beyond the reality she knew and the worlds she’d only begun to explore.

  Perhaps this was how Dia felt when she fell from the sky. Fearless. Not knowing what awaited her at the bottom but knowing it wouldn’t harm her. Knowing that wherever she landed, was where she was meant to be.

  Taavin was there.

  That was the first cohesive thought that registered on the edge of Vi’s mind. There was his familiar shape, pressed against her, clutching her, supporting her. He was warm like sunlight, as though all the brightness in the world was contained within him.

  Familiar shape?

  Her mind was at war with itself. She didn’t know him, not really. They were unlikely allies and she’d certainly never made physical contact with him in any of their meetings. Yet there was a distinct sense of rightness about him. Merely knowing of his existence put a label to something that Vi had never quite paid attention to or understood, something that inexplicably filled her with joy and excitement.

  “What happened to you?” His words were muffled and distant, even here when he felt so close. Would he forever be just out of her reach? When had that even become a concern for her? “Is this the real you? Or just another night?”

  She wasn’t quite sure what happened to her, so she didn’t answer. Everything was murky. All she knew for certain was relief that he was here now. That with him by her side she could endure the long night ahead.

  “You’re too far from me.” That, they could agree on. “I can’t help you.”

  Just having you here helps, Vi thought, and the words sounded as though they had passed through her lips. His ethereal presence shifted, slightly, as though his chest rose and fell with a sigh.

  “Will you ever free me from this torture?” he lamented softly. Vi felt it as though he’d whispered it right into her ear.

  The words rumbled through her. They were deep, contemplative. Full of a profound emotion Vi wasn’t even sure she could name. She wanted to twist, to see him, to hold him, to touch him. She would burn away his sorrows and reveal the brightness that only he contained.

  But he wasn’t truly there. There was only darkness surrounding her; every passing moment had him drifting further away from her. He was always fading in and out of her life, like a weak pulse that vanished the moment she put her finger on it.

  He may have never been there to begin with. Yet she could still feel his skin on hers. She could still feel the rough embroidery of his coat under her hands. There was a phantom memory of feeling things she’d never touched, so perfect she wasn’t even sure what was real anymore.

  Vi opened her eyes slowly, blinking into the light.

  It was dawn. When had night become day? She turned her head, feeling soft hands pressing into something uncomfortably squishy.

  The someone pressing was Ginger, and the uncomfortably squishy was a section of her body that was where her ribs should be.

  “Oh, Mother, princess, that’s the second time you’ve scared me half to death!” Ginger nearly jumped out of her skin the second she saw Vi’s open eyes.

  Vi continued to look around. Her hands rested on her quilt; the feather mattress she’d always laid in was soft underneath h
er. The portraits of her family stood on the dresser, and her box of letters was on her bedside table… This was undeniably her room.

  “Do you feel pain?” Ginger asked again. At least, Vi thought it was again. Her mind was still sluggish.

  “No, I don’t,” she wheezed. “Discomfort, but no pain.” Why did her voice sound that way? Vi pressed her eyes shut and in the darkness behind them saw the glowing eyes of the man at the other end of the bridge. “We’re not safe.”

  “Princess, no, I must insist, you cannot sit right now.” Ginger pushed her back toward the bed. “You’re young, and you received treatment promptly… You’ll be back up and about in no time flat. Even your face will get back to normal. But, Mother, child, give it at least a day. I’m a cleric, not a goddess.”

  Vi allowed herself to sink back into her pillows. The haze was beginning to lift. A dullness still lingered on the edge of her mind, but Vi blamed it on whatever potion Ginger had forced down her throat when she was out.

  If she was lying in bed, it meant she hadn’t died—simple deductions first. That meant, somehow, she was saved… The arms. Her face meeting the tree. Vi winced, raising a hand to her bandaged head, the echo of a terrible crunch in her ears.

  She was alive. That also meant the red-eyed man hadn’t come back to finish the job. Like the saddle, he’d done his work in the shroud of night when he thought himself most likely to elude capture, vanishing in time to fade into suspicious coincidence by morning.

  “How bad is it?” Vi asked, watching Ginger rub salve over her abdomen.

  “As bad as you’d expect. But a whole lot better than dead. Which, were it not for Andru, you would’ve been.”

  “Andru?” Vi wheezed, barely moving her lips.

  “He was out, he saw you fall. The man nearly fell out of the window himself catching you. Popped both his shoulders pretty badly, too,” Ginger said, as though she could read her mind. “Promise me the rest of the day in bed, no unnecessary ventures, bathroom only. You can take dinner here. I’ll check you in the morning and hopefully give you the all-clear to begin moving, at least around your quarters. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to summon me should you ever need, princess.”