by Elise Kova
Unwrapping the silken scarf, Vi found a silver pocket watch. She smoothed her fingers over its tarnished face. Her hands clutched it so tightly that her fingernails dug into her palms and her knuckles were white.
Vi dropped to her knees, tears flowing down her cheeks. Every emotion rushed through her at once. It made her tongue thick and her words awkward.
“Narro haath,” she dared to whisper.
Light sparked around her clenched hands. It formed the shape of a familiar glyph, one she understood better than ever. Magic raced across the ether, connecting her with the man whose communication mark had been imprinted long ago on this most precious token.
Silence.
And then, a familiar voice.
“What… Who—”
Vi covered her mouth, tears still falling in rivers down her cheeks. A new dawn broke through her window. With all the strength she could muster, Vi managed to say, “Hello, Taavin.”
Epilogue
Vi stood on the bow of the greatest vessel ever constructed for the Imperial Armada. She had spent her last month in the North drawing out ideas for the plans, based off the Stormfrost and what she had seen in Meru’s fleet.
Of course, an actual shipwright in Solarin had to go through all of her drawings and turn them into usable blueprints. That process had taken nearly four months of convincing him that, yes, there were ways to build ships in the manner she’d drawn. He merely needed to expand his way of thinking and broaden what he considered “possible.” Leveraging her family’s relationship with Erion Le’Dan had ultimately helped expedite the process.
The construction had taken just over a year in a dry dock to the north of Norin.
It had been two agonizingly slow years until she’d christened the ship and they’d set sail. All of the patience she’d learned seemed to have been a casualty of her battle with Raspian. But in the end, the time it took to build was a good thing. There were other matters that had to fall into place.
Diplomacy took time, especially between two continents that had been closed off to each other for centuries.
“Is that it?” Ellene bounced from foot to foot. Vi had expected more of a fight from Sehra when she’d proposed that Ellene come along on this first diplomatic trip. But the moment Vi pointed out that this was the perfect opportunity for Ellene to spend some time studying Lightspinning in the land that invented it, Sehra instantly agreed.
“Yes. Careful, or you’ll fall over the railing.”
“I will not. I’m not that clumsy.”
“You certainly are,” Jayme said dryly. She leaned against the railing to Vi’s left. Her back was to the land that had just come in sight.
“I am not!”
Jayme shot Vi a knowing grin that seemed to say It’s just too easy to rile her, isn’t it?
In the seventeen years Vi’s consciousness had floated in Yargen’s primordial stasis, the world had continued. But things were different in this world—different, and in so many ways, better.
There was no Adela terrorizing the seas of the Shattered Isles. After thieving from the Archives, the pirate queen decided to make herself scarce. Which also meant that Jayme was never recruited to act against Vi.
Because of what Vi had mentioned to Elecia, Daniel’s existence was discovered much sooner. Elecia had told Jax, who went East immediately after the end of the war, and multiple times after. He found Daniel and, while he respected the man’s wishes to remain mostly anonymous, he sent word to Aldrik and Vhalla. The royals had kept Daniel’s life private and the man well taken care of.
So while Vi could still sense Jayme had mixed feelings about certain things, especially when it came to the crown’s conquest and Mad King Victor, she didn’t see the precursors of betrayal in the woman’s eyes.
“I’m really glad you’re both here with me,” Vi said tenderly.
“Oh goodness, here she goes again.” Ellene rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to get all sappy on us for the next hour, are you? You’ve been terrible ever since you turned seventeen.”
“No, I haven’t!” She laughed, knowing well her friend was correct. Emotions were lovely and Vi had enjoyed feeling them again over the past two years. Perhaps a little too much, at times. “I’m just glad we could make this voyage together.”
“I’m excited to see what the Crescent Continent holds.” Jayme finally looked over her shoulder at the strip of land growing in size in the distance.
Footsteps approached from behind them. “I think that goes for all of us.”
Jax and Elecia joined them at the bow. Elecia was dressed in finery that befit the Lady of the West. But Vi was still growing accustomed to seeing Jax in formal ceremonial garb.
She had memories of their wedding. Or rather, the Vi who had grown up in this world had those memories. The ceremony had taken place in the Cathedral of the Mother in Norin, and what Vi could picture was a breathtaking affair.
Elecia had grown impatient with Jax about five years ago. He was always stalling their relationship for “no reason.” First it was heading to the East. Next it was setting up a new Golden Guard in the South. Then it was accepting a position to watch over Vi in the North when the first appointee—a man Vi had been too young to remember—retired.
In a way, Vi had now lived the best of both worlds. Her first childhood was full of memories in which she’d grown up with Jax as her surrogate father. But she also had memories of him finally chasing after his happily ever after. Now, she got to see him standing hand-in-hand with the woman he’d loved in every world.
Fortunately, while she could parse the memories apart, nothing was confusing or painful. It didn’t feel as though she was competing with someone else for headspace. Yargen had been blessedly correct in that respect. And, as far as she could tell, the people she loved were none the wiser that her consciousness had undergone a transformation.
Vi turned her attention back to Risen.
The world spun, seasons changed, and people changed, but the one constant remained: love—the love of friends and family, the love that bound people together through the ages.
That was the love she now sought.
“You should go below and get ready, Vi,” Elecia said thoughtfully. “We’ll be dropping anchor before you know it.”
“You’re right. Excuse me.”
Her cabin was one of the largest on the vessel. It was positioned in the back, with grand windows overlooking the sea. In many ways, it reminded her of Adela’s cabin. Vi smiled to herself every time she entered, wondering what the pirate queen would think if she knew she’d inspired the flagship of Admiral Crown Princess Vi Solaris’s budding armada.
The clothing she’d requested was neatly laid out: a fitted pair of leggings with a white split tunic that bore the Solaris crest. A wide belt attached a ceremonial sword to her hip. Everything was carefully embroidered in gold thread, reminiscent of a coat she knew so well she could draw it from memory.
On top of the tunic was a simple envelope. Vi lifted it, flipping it over. She’d said goodbye to her family when she left—that had been the hardest part, especially after getting to live nearly three years with them in Solarin while all the logistics for her voyage were being worked out.
The Senate was still adamant that it was too risky to have both heirs running all over the world and putting themselves in harm’s way. But Vi got the impression Romulin would be all right staying in Solarin and working with Andru, the son of the head of Senate, and Minister Fritz.
Before she left, Vi had tasked them with brainstorming and ironing out some details for her next big idea. It was still in its infancy, but in a few years’ time, if all went according to plan, Solaris and the Kingdoms of Meru would be reunited. And that called for a celebration to shake the ages.
Vi would oversee the diplomatic elements of treaties and alliances. Romulin, Andru, and Fritz would run with her wild ideas of lavish parties, friendly sorcerer competitions, and other ways to share knowledge and culture. She coul
dn’t wait to see what would ultimately come to pass.
Her parents didn’t come on the voyage because they refused to be separated. Not because they couldn’t be; they simply didn’t want to be. Vi didn’t argue with that reasoning. She knew better than most what they’d gone through to be together now.
On the back of the envelope was a golden seal bearing the sun. She slid her finger underneath to break it, then slid out the letter and sat on the bed to read it.
Our dearest daughter,
We asked Elecia to give you this on your arrival to the Crescent Continent for one final reminder of home before you step off onto a new land for the first time.
Vi cracked a smile at the first line. It would be her first time… in this body.
We will of course remind you that these negotiations could open trade that would change our Empire and the lives of our people for the better. But we know you already understand this. After all, you were the one who somehow managed to open discussions with a closed off land that we, and our forefathers, had long since written off.
You will conduct yourself with grace and poise, of that we’re certain. You’ve grown into a young woman wise beyond her years. We are so proud, and have every faith in you.
But the most important thing we wished to remind you of is that this is an opportunity for a grand adventure. This is the start of your journey. This is the moment you begin to write your story.
Go and explore. Seek adventure. Seek the world we have always seen you dreaming of.
When you are ready to return, your throne will be here waiting. We, and your brother, will be here waiting with all our love. But don’t worry for us. We’ll be fine.
For the first time, she could believe it. Solaris had a bright future ahead of it.
Our love goes with you. We cannot wait to hear all the stories you will have to tell when you return… Whenever that might be.
Your parents
Vi brought the letter to her lips and kissed it gently. “I love you too, mother, father,” she whispered against the parchment. She could almost detect the faint scent of her mother’s perfume, mixing with the smoke that always seemed to coat her father’s clothes.
She read the letter twice more before setting it aside and beginning to dress. It felt like permission. It felt as though, somehow, her parents understood. One story had ended, but thanks to Yargen, she had a new one just beginning. Vi couldn’t stop beaming from ear to ear, and she bounded back on deck in time to see the details of Risen coming into focus.
They anchored as close as possible to the port—close enough that Vi could see the ceremonial delegation that lined the docks, ready to receive them. Her heart raced as she took her position in the front of the rowboat that would take her ashore.
Elecia and Jax were behind her. Ellene and Jayme were behind them in a separate vessel. Vi worried the silver ring in the shape of a phoenix that she wore on the middle finger of her right hand. It was not Fiera’s exact ring, but her father had commissioned it from old schematics found in the Le’Dan archives as a gift for her eighteenth birthday.
The rowboats pulled up to a low dock and Lumeria’s guard was ready to receive them. Men offered her assistance, bowing their heads as they helped her out of the small boat. Somehow, Vi managed to disembark without stumbling, and she said a quiet thanks to the sun above.
Lumeria stood down the dock, hidden behind her veil and flowing fabrics. A line of honor guards stood on either side, creating a walkway for Vi. She approached stiffly and bowed low.
“Your highness, Queen Lumeria, it is an honor to meet you.”
“It is,” she replied in her whispering tones. “Or should I say, meet again? Which would you prefer?”
Vi straightened in shock. She had told Deneya years ago that she could share the truth with Lumeria in her reports, but… she hadn’t been expecting Lumeria to actually believe the stories. Jax and Elecia arrived at that moment. She was prevented from questioning as they bowed.
“Your highness, I present Lady Elecia of the West and her husband, Lord Jax.”
“Welcome to Meru, Lady Elecia and Lord Jax.”
Vi turned to the next two. “This is Lady Ellene of the North—she is blessed with Lightspinning—and her honor guard, Jayme.” Vi had changed Jayme’s post before they set sail.
Even though things were better in this world, Vi still thought it was healthier for her and Jayme if the woman reported to Ellene. Besides, Vi didn’t know where her travels would take her, and Jayme needed to remain on the same continent as her father as much as possible.
“Welcome.” Lumeria raised her voice slightly, and said, “See that the dignitaries and their guards are shown to the palace.”
Soldiers stepped forward, each one appointed to a different person. Vi watched as they paired up with her friends and family. There was not a single trace of foul play, which was a welcome change from the last time she’d stepped foot in Risen.
“I am to be your escort.”
She met a familiar pair of blue eyes. “Deneya,” Vi said with a sigh of relief, and threw her arms around the woman.
“This is a nice change from the last time I saw you on the Stormfrost. It’s good to see you again,” Deneya whispered as she held Vi in a crushing embrace. She pulled away abruptly and looked Vi up and down with narrowed eyes. “It really is you this time, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. I’m goddess-free.”
“Good. I mean, not good. Yargen don’t smite me, I just like my friend. Now, Vi, follow me.” Deneya stopped her rambling and started after the rest of the procession.
“I’m glad nothing horrible befell you for… you know.” Vi stopped herself before she could say “stealing the Flame of Yargen.”
“I’m just glad I made it back in time.” Deneya and Vi had lost their communication token when Vi’s body had been destroyed. Without it, they’d only been able to exchange a few letters, in which they didn’t dare write too much. So there were still large gaps Vi was ready to have filled in between now and when they’d parted ways on the Stormfrost twenty years ago.
“In time for what?”
“To make sure my Queen knew of Lord Ulvarth’s treachery.” Deneya shook her head sadly in the face of Vi’s shock. “Stealing the Flame of Yargen and framing the last Voice.”
“Then the Voice survived?” she asked hopefully.
“Unfortunately, the woman had already been put to death.”
Vi winced. She felt every bit of guilt and sorrow she should’ve felt on the Stormfrost.
“Tell me, at least, that Ulvarth faced the same fate.”
“That’s the greatest crime of them all. He’s been stalling trials and leveraging favors from friends in high places to spare his neck from the executioner’s block.” Deneya scowled. “Lumeria is fed up and, for now, has locked him up and thrown away the key. Hopefully being away from public eye will cool his influence, and she can revisit the matter in the future.”
“Good to know that justice for the wicked being elusive isn’t exclusive to Solaris.” Vi had spent the past few years entrenching herself in Solarin’s politics. Some of the records she’d read—like a sham trial involving her own mother—made her skin crawl.
“Indeed.” Deneya paused. “Are you all right with a detour?”
“If we have time?” Vi glanced back to Lumeria.
“She made sure we have time for this.” Deneya stepped off into a side alley and Vi followed. It was right before the public crowds began to thicken, ready to watch and welcome the first dignitaries from the Dark Isle in centuries.
Deneya led her down the narrow alley to the back of building that lined the port. They climbed several flights of rusted stairs toward the top floor. Deneya stepped up to the door, opened it with a flourish, ushered Vi inside, and closed it behind her.
Inside was a simple room—a meeting space for traders, perhaps, judging by the tables and chairs. A row of windows overlooked the port and Vi could see her own vessel in the
distance. The sun glistened off the sea, casting everything in a warm glow. Including the man who stood, framed by light.
Vi moved forward in a trance. She held her breath until he turned to face her, then exhaled his name like a prayer. “Taavin.”
“Vi Solaris.” He still regarded her warily. It was the physical embodiment of the verbal distance he’d kept in all of their communications through the watch she now wore.
She approached slowly, as though he were an animal that might spook. “It’s good to see you.”
“Yes, well. I only agreed to this meeting because you said you had something for me.” He was as stiff as Vi remembered him being the first few times they’d met. The memories brought a nostalgic smile to her lips, and that only seemed to frustrate him more.
Just as there had been a Vi born into this world, so there was a Taavin. But like all the other ninety-three Taavins, he lacked his memories.
Reaching up to her neck, Vi undid the chain there. She held out the silver pocket watch to him. Taavin accepted it with both hands, running his fingers over it.
“This… is what has my mark.”
“Yes.” Vi motioned to one of the sofas. “Let’s sit?” He followed her, still fascinated by the watch.
“You said when we were in person, you would tell me how you got this.”
“It will be easier to show you.” She paused, hesitating. The crescent-shaped scar was missing on his face, and his hair was shorter than she remembered, but everything else about the man was the same. Should she force him to endure the memories of his past selves? Was it cruel to bestow that on him once more?
Give him his memories. Let me return to you, Vi.
“Show me… how?”
“I’d like to give you a choice,” she said softly. “It will be a lot to take all at once. It might hurt. And once I give you this knowledge, I can never take it back.”
He chuckled deeply. “I’m not afraid of whatever magic you have.”