by Ali Winters
Nivian barred her teeth, fisting her hands at her sides, and dug deep into her powers, burrowing down as far as she could. Sparks of light danced in her grasp, snaking its way up her forearms.
“What do you want?” she demanded again.
Silas, for all his efforts to keep a straight, unimpressed expression, slipped. His eyes widened ever so slightly. But she caught the flicker of movement before he managed to school his face.
“You are indeed powerful,” he said, a predatory hunger in his tone.
He hadn’t acknowledged a single word she’d spoken other than to look amused at her reactions when he ignored her. As if it were nothing more than some twisted game to him. Did he know of Yeva’s threat? Did he want to see her destroyed?
She wouldn’t let him bring the end of her existence upon her without fighting like hell to stay alive. Nivian lifted her hand and hurled the full strength of her magic at him.
Silas twisted his body with effortless grace, dodging by inches. His gaze followed the flash of power as it passed just inches in front of his face. He smirked and she smiled to herself, watching his smug expression slip as he realized too late that she’d sent a second blaze at him. Silas threw himself back. The edge of his cloak billowed up at the movement and was singed by the blast.
Nivian cursed him under her breath.
Silas straightened and reached up, running his hand over his hair to brush back a stray lock. The amused look had completely vanished, replaced with one of vexation. He took a step closer. Then another. Nivian backed up an equal distance as he advanced.
“Are you quite finished?” he asked, with a sneer as he dusted flecks of ash from his shoulder.
“I won’t miss next time.” Nivian bit down on the inside of her cheek to silence herself, so the warble of her words wouldn’t be too obvious.
He scoffed and closed the distance between them in three long strides. His fingers wrapped around the front of her tunic, keeping her in place.
She waited for him to speak as he leaned closer, looking into her eyes with endless pools of gray. She felt as though she were falling into a vast void, where time and space flew by in an instant, again and again in an infinite loop.
Silas released her and took half a step back.
“Leave… Please,” she tried again. Her arms and legs shook. She was too tired and too weak to fight it any more.
“I will not harm you,” he said, almost affectionately.
Nivian loosed a breath and said, “Then… why are you here?”
“I have come to talk.”
She raised a brow, listing her head to the side. “Talk? What could you possibly have to speak with me about?” Something deep, deep, deep inside of her rang in warning. Something primal, made of pure instinct, told her it was a trap, that she needed to run.
But she stayed still. Even if she ran, there was nowhere she could go where he could not follow. And so she stayed, and listened.
“There is a force, slight as it is, that is throwing the balance off kilter.”
Nivian frowned. “Of course. That’s why we exist, to right the balance.”
He looked at her then with a sad smile, as if she were a child. As if she had no idea how the world worked, or what their duties required. “I need you to help me right it.”
Something in his words, in the way he had hinted that only the two of them had the ability to stop this unknown force, had her gut clenching.
“I help right the balance as Yeva asks,” she bit out.
“And yet, that has never worked to fix the root of the problem, has it?” Silas spread his hands out as if the answer lie in the landscape surrounding them.
His features were unmoving and, yet, with a blink, some minute twitch of a muscle, he became fierce, terrifying.
He was trying to intimidate her, and that kernel of knowledge sent ice cold anger racing through her veins. Still, she found that even through her ire, it was working.
“Go get one of your Reapers to help you,” she snapped vehemently.
He didn’t flinch at her use of the word, as she purposefully ignored their proper title. In fact, he smiled at her use of it, as if he found it… endearing. Nivian scrunched up her nose.
“Only you can help.”
She didn’t like this at all. What would the original Dark Guardian need with her? Whatever the problem, Yeva would know as much as he. It was up to them to give the Watchers and Guardians their assignments, not for anyone else to take matters into their own hands, least of all, someone such as her.
But… it was her duty to protect the balance, no matter the cost. Though, she couldn’t figure out why he would be coming to her, and not Yeva.
A thought occurred to her then. Perhaps the reason for Yeva’s anger with her had to do with what Silas wanted to talk to her about, needed her for. In any case, it wouldn’t hurt to hear what he had to say. She could always go to Yeva afterward.
“I am listening.” She lifted her chin, holding her head high. “What must I do?”
He gave a slight nod. Then, slowly, he said, “You must die.”
Nivian barked a humorless laugh. “I don’t know what you’re playing at—” She sobered instantly. No, it wasn’t the fact that she was needed that angered Yeva. It was him. “You! You are the reason Yeva is furious. What are you doing to make her believe I’ve betrayed her?”
His eyes widened slightly. So she was right after all. Silas hadn’t expected her to guess correctly, and he had given his game away.
“Listen to me, girl, if I wanted to reap your life force, I could do it right here, right now, and there would be nothing you could do to stop or delay it. You would be cold where you stand before you could so much as blink.” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have no need to play games with one such as you.”
Her heart pounded wildly and she could barely hear anything above the roaring of her blood in her ears. She backed up, stopping only when she hit the rough bark of her tree. “Th-then why?”
“You have been marked by the Tome of Fate.”
She waited for him to continue, but he said nothing more. Nivian opened her mouth to argue and stopped. Reap. He had said reaped. Not destroyed.
“I don’t believe you.”
Silas flicked his eyes skyward, as if she were being difficult and he tired of humoring her. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a slip of parchment. He held it between his middle and forefinger for her to see.
Nivian squinted at the writing. Her tongue darted out between her lips. She read the name. Then read it again. And again.
It was a trick. It had to be a trick. Watchers were never marked by the Tomb. It was always destroying a Dark Guardian and being destroyed in the act. Never a mark.
“You were never meant to be a Watcher,” he said softly, with more regret in his words than he had the right to feel.
“Of course I was meant to be a Watcher. Yeva created me as she has all Watchers. We wouldn’t be here otherwise.” She spoke with conviction, knowing in her heart that it was right. Yeva made all Watchers for a purpose.
Why, then, did a shadow of doubt snake into her mind, the spiny thorns digging in, snagging, as it buried deep to take root.
The arrogance, the humor at her expense, the anger, every emotion he’d shown her had vanished, leaving a blank mask in its wake. “Look deep and you will find that I am right.”
“No. No.” She shook her head. “You’re wrong. I won’t let you, or any other Reaper take me. I will destroy you,” she ground out between teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached.
He laughed. “Do not act like a petulant child. You are far too smart for that.”
Was she? He had shown her the supposed mark. She’d felt the power of it and knew it was not written with ordinary ink on ordinary parchment.
Nothing he’d said reeked of a lie. Not that he would need to lie to her. Because as powerful as she was, as skilled at fighting with Guardians… He was right, he could reap her without
a second thought. He’d had a chance to do so before she even knew he was there.
Yet, he hadn’t even lifted a finger against her. Instead, he was… warning her.
She opened her mouth to speak then closed it, not knowing what to say, or what to ask.
“Think on it, Nivian, and remember your duty.” Silas lifted his hands and placed the hood of his cloak back over his head. He turned then stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. “Tell no one what we have spoken of.” His eyes drifted in the direction of her small dwelling, where she knew her family was at that very moment, then back to her. She understood the threat he made before he spoke the words. “I will know if you do, and I will make sure everyone you care about will pay.”
The blood drained from her face and turned to ice in her veins.
Nivian formed an orb of white and gold power, wild and unyielding, in each palm. The bright sparks crackled along her fingertips. Her cry of rage filled the air as she let them fly. Her aim accurate and deadly. One at his core, the other at his head.
Just as the power reached him, he vanished.
She blinked into the now empty space where he’d been seconds before. Blinked as her heart forgot how to beat, her lungs how to breathe.
Was he right? Did she have to die to right the balance?
Silas had said she was not meant to be a Watcher. Her life, her long, long life crumbled before her eyes.
It was all a lie.
But at the same time, it explained so much. Why she was different, felt different, treated different. It explained why Yeva had seemed colder to her than any of the others. Why she never seemed to love her as she did the rest of the world. Why Yeva was so quick to believe she had betrayed her.
The world tilted from under her, and she thought she could feel the crack in her heart spread from end to end until her heart was cleaved in two.
Nivian’s senses came back in a rush. Overwhelming and forceful. She gripped the sides of her head as her body shook, her fingers tangling into her hair, pulling until her scalp ached, as her knees buckled from under her.
She freed her hands from her tousled hair and managed to catch herself before her face collided with the dirt.
CASPIAN
HE WALKED THROUGH the back halls of G.R.I.M. Headquarters, weaving between the Guardians as they rested between assignments. Their quiet voices filled the hallway as they casually chatted among themselves while moving languidly through the corridors. Caspian clenched his fists within the folds of his cloak, the only outward sign of his inner turmoil. Where was Silas?
Though the reason Caspian sought him out did not concern official Guardian business, he could not stand around and do nothing, waiting for the worst to happen. He needed the assistance of someone far more powerful.
He had been everywhere from Silas’s office in the highest point of the spire, to every hall and room throughout the extensive grounds. Only the large chamber in the lower most level remained to be checked.
Caspian headed toward the spiral staircase that would lead him into the heart of their domain and hurried down, taking the steps two at a time. It came as no surprise that the massive stone doors were closed. He pushed them open and entered the chamber uninvited and unconcerned for any consequences he might face for interrupting Silas.
The room was bathed in darkness, and no sound echoed from within. To Caspian’s disappointment, he was not inside. Silas’s inability to be found made it more than clear he did not wish to be disturbed. But something coiled deep in his gut, urging him on to find the ancient.
Caspian stretched out his powers and searched. Nothing. He couldn’t sense Silas’s powers anywhere within the realm. But that didn’t necessarily mean Silas wasn’t somewhere within the sweeping grounds of the monumental building. If he didn’t want to be found, then no one stood a chance, not even if he stood ten feet away. He could hide his powers from them all.
Caspian closed the doors behind him and headed back up the stairs, ready to start his search anew while scouring the grounds.
The hallway at the top was dark, exactly as it had been an hour ago. Even knowing the office was empty, Caspian raised his hand and knocked three times then waited. When no answer came, he opened the door and walked in. Not a speck of dust could be found, and the items atop the desk were in perfect order—the pen, the inkwell, the short stack of loose parchment that never ran low.
Everything was in place, except for Silas.
Caspian heaved a tired sigh and headed back down. Silas only left Mophar to visit Yeva. So as much as he hated to admit defeat, it seemed that he would have to wait for his return.
Since he’d left Nivian at the Mezzanine river, he hadn’t been able to shake her tear streaked face from his mind. He didn’t know what Silas would do, or could do—if anything, but he needed his friend’s council. There had to be something he could do for her.
He’d sworn to protect Nivian, and, yet, he didn’t even know if he had the power, or the right, to stand in Yeva’s way if she wanted to destroy one of her own Watchers. Surely, there would be a negative effect on the balance. That fact alone would have to stir Silas into action… wouldn’t it?
Halfway down the staircase, Caspian stopped. Footsteps brushed against the obsidian steps. Then there he was, a stony expression upon his face as Silas casually ascended.
Silas lifted his eyes, meeting Caspian’s, and the look melted into one of concern. “You seem troubled,” he said. “Come. There is something important we need to discuss.”
Caspian arched a brow in question, but Silas didn’t pause as he walked past him, continuing up. The ancient lifted a hand and motioned for him to follow, without bothering to look to see if he did.
Silas was already behind the desk, sitting in the high-backed chair, when Caspian entered the room. He motioned for him to take a seat in the one other chair across from him.
Caspian looked into Silas’s eyes, darkened by a shadow that made his features appear wearied by time. It made him look older than his eternal youth would ever allow. Silas stared ahead, unseeing and not speaking.
Caspian cleared his throat, but it didn’t stir him. Whatever he’d wanted to speak about could not have been too important or he would have brought it up immediately.
“Silas?” he spoke at last.
Silas leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over a knee, and rested an arm on the desk. Lazily, he rubbed the stubble along his jaw as he waited. After a moment, he ticked his chin upward, a sign for Caspian to speak freely.
“I have been talking to a Watcher,” Caspian admitted.
Silas’s eyes widened, but shock—true shock—was absent from his face. Then he said, “I know.”
“You do?”
He only nodded and motioned for him to continue.
Caspian swallowed. “I think there is something strange happening as of late.”
“Oh?” was all Silas said in response. He dropped his foot back to the floor and swiveled to face Caspian, leaning forward on the desk. “There is an imbalance that must be… taken care of.”
Caspian felt his blood chill. That tone. Nothing good ever came from that tone. Thoughts of asking for help, of telling him of Yeva’s threat, of learning how the bringer of life would go about such a thing as destroying one of her own… vanished from his mind.
“A Watcher must be reaped,” Silas said as he examined his nails. He spoke like he would of some trivial matter, of nothing more important than the weather rather than something that would start a war. “And you must be the one to do it.”
A loud silence followed, ringing in Caspian’s ears. “Reaped?” he asked after several beats. “You mean, destroyed.”
“No, I mean reaped.”
“Is that even possible?” Caspian stood and leaned on the desk, his hands spread wide.
Silas sat back in his chair, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “Yes.”
Caspian’s gut turned leaden. How could he be so damned casual about this? “That w
ill start a war!”
Then the ancient stood as well, a storm brewing in those endless eyes of his. The casual tone gave way to something darker as he said, “A war will come to pass regardless. We must right the balance no matter the cost.”
“The peace between our groups is delicate at best,” Caspian added dully. His mind refused to wrap around what Silas was saying, refused to understand.
If a war broke out… they would lose many more. Far more than a single Watcher. There would be countless losses on both sides when the Watchers sought their revenge.
“I know.” Silas dipped his head and massaged his brow with one hand. “But there is no other option. This Watcher was a mistake, her very existence is a constant upset to the balance.” He dropped his hand, and, when met his gaze, Caspian could only shake his head. “You must reap Nivian.”
Caspian took a step back as if he’d been dealt a blow. He’d sought out Silas in the hopes of saving her… of protecting her. And now he would be her end?
“There must be another. Why her?” he asked beseechingly. Never once in his existence had he ever asked for anything. Never once begged or pleaded. Until now. Yet, those two words that slipped from his mouth asked an impossible question.
Nivian’s power called to his in a way he had never thought possible, had never thought to imagine. And he had only just found her. It would break him to lose her. Caspian closed his eyes and tried to swallow down the lump of emotions that formed in his throat.
“You will reap her, or I will. Either way, she will not be among the living for much longer. She is an imbalance that needs to be rightened,” Silas spoke soft and low.
Each word was a merciless stab to Caspian’s heart and lungs. Each left behind a gaping, bloody wound of shredded muscle and sinew. As a Dark Guardian, he was immune to illness of any kind, and yet, in that moment, he felt sick… felt as vulnerable as any mortal.
“How is she an imbalance?” Caspian lifted his head. “There has to be more to it than just Nivian.”