Dawn of Ash

by Rebecca Ethington

  I swallowed, not liking the massive pit that had grown in the middle of my chest in the last few seconds. “What Sain told Risha, the rumors that have been spread, they are things the Drak are told never to repeat: about the Zlomený, about the weakness of a Draks’ power. We tell everyone they are the sights that are broken by the acts of others, by the mortals. But that is not true.”

  She stared at me, obviously waiting for more, but I couldn’t seem to find the right words. Everything was trapped behind a mental block, something keeping me from telling her the truth.

  “So what he is saying is true?” The anger behind her voice was heavy, but still, I smiled. Sometimes, I thought Father was right—that she did need better control over her emotions. “That, by creating a Zlomený, my magic is dying. It’s killing me.”

  “That’s what we have always been told.” I repeated the words the same way I had for years, but this time, they pressed against me, igniting something deep inside. A fear like I had never felt before rushed through me, a flash of a memory moving alongside the dread like it had caused it.

  Joclyn moved to sit beside me, the whole bed rocking under the shift of her weight.

  “Dramin?” She was scared. I didn’t blame her.

  My entire body felt weaker than I had in days. I waved her worry away, determined to confess this truth out. She was Drak, after all; she should have known long ago.

  “Zlomený are sights that are broken because the Drak magic is too powerful for those who hold it. They can’t control it, so the magic devours them. The term Zlomený does not refer to the sights, but rather to the people who are not worthy of Drak magic.”

  “Great,” she moaned, her hand tightening around mine. “So now I’m not worthy of Drak magic, yet somehow, I’m the most powerful magical creature alive. At least I know I’m not the only person whose sights keep changing.”

  With those simple words, the panic moved in waves of fear, pulling something from deep inside me. A memory of tears filled my mind in a haunted recollection I wasn’t quite certain I wanted to pull at.

  “What did you say?” I asked, not looking at her, already not wanting to hear the answer.

  “That I’m somehow all powerful yet not powerful enough—”

  “No,” I interrupted her, my eyes digging into hers with such foreign intensity she shied away. I was doubtful she had ever seen this side of me before. I was doubtful anyone but my mate had. “About the sights changing. Do your sights change?”

  “Obviously, I’m a Zlomený, remember?”

  “I’m quite serious, Joclyn.” The memory of my tears intensified, the recollection of an alley running through my mind in a quick flash that shuddered through me painfully, the bones in my back creaking in protest from the movement. Regardless, I stayed still, staring at her, dreading her answer while also needing it.

  “Some of my sights,” she began, her voice hesitant as my back straightened, “have been changing.”

  “Have been?” I asked, even more confused now. “You mean they have been changing after you have already had them? Showing you something different?” I barely got the words out before the memory of my tears was replaced by another, one of a man yelling. One I had pushed into the dark recesses of my mind so long ago I was amazed it was still there.

  “It’s just you and I and Sleeping Beauty over there. You can tell me.” I tried to make the joke sound as close to one Thom would have given. I even tried to make my voice match his gruff irritation. It didn’t suit me and made the whole thing more ridiculous, something Joclyn appreciated.

  She smiled as I did, her body leaning forward to wrap her warm hands around mine, my little sister reaching out to me.

  “My sights are changing. I will have one, and then days later, I will have it again, and it will be different. And not just a little different, either … very different.”

  “Are you sure they are the same sights? Of the same time and incident?”

  She nodded.

  “How are they changing? Time? Place? Subject?”

  She nodded again.

  “All of them?”

  Again, a nod before she said, “I know they are the same; I can feel it. It’s like the sight before you woke up. I saw it. I saw the roofs. I saw the Vilỳ. But when it came again, when I pulled it through the recall, it was different. It’s the same roof, but it’s like the picture was taken with a wider lens. It’s the same attack, but it shows it from a different angle. People are in different places. Some are missing. Different things are shown. So I know it’s the same … but not.”

  She was struggling for words, talking in circles, and I didn’t blame her. The way she spoke about it, the way she talked about the feeling within them, was the same.

  The memory within me was growing stronger as the pieces fell together, my heart thundering in my chest as I sat, staring at my sister. My fear was increasing with each moment that passed.

  “How often…?” I could barely get the question out; my mouth was dry.

  “That’s all there is now. I don’t know what to follow anymore. I don’t know what’s right. Everything contradicts each other, and it all looks different. More than the clear and static images, it’s all distorted, like a television with bad reception.”

  “Like someone is changing them.” I spoke without meaning to, the memory breaking through my mind so abruptly my body was shaking.

  Joclyn tightened her hand around mine, obviously desperate to help.

  “Yes.” Her voice was shaking as much as mine was. “I … How…?”

  “When I was a child, fresh from the mud, my Drak abilities came on strong, much as yours did after I gave you the water. They were as strong as our father’s when he first awakened, or so he told me.” I stopped then, my focus pulling from the intently listening child before me to the mug in my hands.

  The memory ripped through me so violently I was reminded of why I had chosen to forget, why I had chosen to push it so far into the deep recesses of my soul that having it return was like a painful dissection.

  Everything was too intense, too vivid. The emotions behind them were too strong, the fear too deep.

  “I don’t remember much of those days,” I admitted. “But I do remember one. One day, I was probably nearing one hundred at the time, I saw a girl, a Trpaslík. She was tall and fair, so different than the rest of her kind. At first, I had confused her for a Skȓítek, but then the sight came…”

  Joclyn leaned forward as if she would be able to tap into a recall. Except, there was none, not anymore. Only a memory of the girl remained, only the painful bite of the sight that never was.

  At the time, the sight had come on as strong as they had been in the beginning. I had felt my father tense beside me as I saw the girl on the street; except, in the sight, she was older, her hair long, her face lined. She stood beside a man, and in her arms was a baby boy. I had seen the boy grow before my eyes. A strapping Trpaslík, he was strong, and you could easily tell he was one of their leaders. I had watched as he found a mate of his own. Her appearance was so sweet and stunning it was burned into my memory.

  My father had gasped as he tapped into the sight, as he saw what I had. His anger was so quick and evident that, before the sight had even finished, he had dragged me into an alley, the shadows of the city buildings hanging over us like cobwebs, drowning us in darkness.

  His voice had been a hiss of anger I had never heard before as he pressed me into the wall, jeering in my ear to forget what I had seen.

  I am the first of the Drak, and it is my responsibility to make sure all of the Draks below me see what I approve and do what is allowed. That starts with you, Dramin. Never question me, son. Don’t be a Zlomený. Those will be killed.

  He had been so kind before that moment, so loving. He had given me life and raised me, and everything he had said was true, so I agreed.

  I had wanted to.

  And I had never questioned him again.

  Not until this moment, not un
til Joclyn looked at me and told me her sights were changing. Told me of the television fuzz that two thousand years ago would have made no sense, but now I understood because I had seen it.

  “I saw the girl’s son find a mate, a beautiful Skȓítek. The boy was a Trpaslík, and I saw their magic join as one.”

  Joclyn’s eyes widened at the admission. Even she knew the story about how our father was the first to mate with someone outside of his magic.

  And here I was, telling her otherwise.

  No, here I was, telling her why.

  “Before Ovailia?”

  I hesitated as I recalled the boy’s chosen mate and her face that, at the time, was like any other. Just another woman. Just another man.

  I had seen the Skȓítek standing with the Trpaslík she was meant to be bonded to. I had seen it clearly, and yet, barely minutes later, with my father hissing in my ear, the sight changed. The static Joclyn had described took over as the sight of the woman was altered, her face shifting to one of hundreds of other women.

  “I saw it, but then it changed, exactly as you said.”

  The bed jostled a bit as she shifted toward me abruptly, her eyes wide as questions and thoughts swirled through that fast working mind of hers.

  Staring at her, lost in thought, the reality of what Sain had done was a heavy weight on my chest, a powerful force I was having trouble breathing through.

  “So, if he changed your sight, is he changing mine?” she asked from the edge of my bed, her simple question tensing through me uncomfortably.

  “I have no way of knowing, but from what you have said, from how he has treated you…” I stopped, my heart tensing painfully at the reality I was still fighting.

  “He is.” It was a statement filled with the downtrodden weight of one trapped in a painful reality. Her eyes were wide in fear and anger. “Now, I need to prove it.”

  “And that, child, may be your hardest task to date.”

  Her nose pinched as though she smelled something bad, though her eyes were dancing a bit. “Of all the tasks I have faced, Dramin, I think this is far from the hardest.” She smiled, and I couldn’t help smiling with her, regardless of something inside me screaming, something nagging at me.

  It wasn’t as simple as proving Sain was debilitating her sights; it was finding the reason why. And with the fear and anger running through my memory of him, manipulating what I had seen, I had a feeling it was more than pride behind it.

  That scared me more than the man in the cloak.

  More than the death I faced.

  “Joclyn,” I sighed, the tension of fear spreading through my back. “If he is changing what you see, what I have seen, then he has more power than we assumed. Don’t underestimate him.”

  “I never have.”

  Glitter and light bounced off the barrier Ilyan had placed inside the cathedral to protect the ancient space, showering Joclyn and me in the residue of an attack that had barely missed its mark.

  I could still see the retina burn through the blossoms of magic spreading in colorful waves as I looked back at my best friend, unsurprised to see her standing over a hundred yards away, the same smug smile on her face.

  Of course she was smug.

  I had barely deflected that attack, and judging by the color and movement of the remaining magic, it would have knocked me out for a few minutes if it had made contact.

  Leave it to Jos. When I said, “Don’t hold back, but don’t kill me, either,” she took me at face value. It was something I was glad of. We could match each other attack for attack, and that was a first for both of us, really.

  I guessed we could always spar with Ilyan. I knew Jos did. However, I liked breaking rules, and he liked being boring.

  Now, if I could stop worrying about Thom and whether he was still breathing or not or if that new boil that had appeared on his neck this morning had grown…

  Ugh.

  There I went again.

  I needed to focus.

  Obviously.

  Besides, we both needed the escape, and this was better than the mass murder I had resorted to after Rosaline’s death.

  I needed an escape from Thom; Jos, an escape from … well, everything: her little breakdown from a few days ago and the rumors that had magically multiplied since then.

  It was upsetting.

  Whatever Sain was doing was really starting to piss me off. It was a good thing I hadn’t run into him. Even though I knew Ilyan had already ripped into him, there was nothing stopping me from doing the same.

  Or torturing him … That would probably be a good release, too.

  After all, thanks to Sain, everyone acted like Joclyn was broken. Everyone treated her like she was somehow too weak to do anything. That wasn’t the case, however. Not really. At least, not the way I saw it.

  She was actually too powerful. Her magic had grown too much, and she was having a hard time controlling it.

  It was something I knew all too well. Mostly because I had experienced it.

  In the beginning, controlling the fire magic was scary. I would blow things up. Heck, I had even blown myself up a few times. It was undoubtedly why Ilyan was so insistent I glue myself to her, maybe help her try to figure out what the heck was going on.

  It was probably good she was my best friend, or I would be really bored of her by now.

  Despite crazy-powerful magic and out of control sights or renegade rabbits or whatever she was facing, controlling it was possible. It took time and figuring out your own set of rules to make it work.

  It was like 90s grunge—you had to find a way to make the loud, confusing mess work for you.

  Or you could just not listen to it.

  Whatever worked for you.

  She would figure it out. In the meantime, all I could really do was keep telling her odd stories and be some kind of demented cheerleader.

  No one better hand me pom-poms, though.

  “If you keep messing up like that, I will get you,” Jos said, a massive smile plastered across her face.

  “If you keep taunting me, you will pay.” My smile was as big as hers, but not for the reason she thought. I spoke calmly, plainly, deterring her from the fact that a powerful attack was already heading toward her, slithering through the earth, just under the old stonework of the cathedral floor.

  I smiled wider, the nefarious grin spreading over my teeth as I fought the need to laugh. It was too much, especially when her eyes narrowed in sudden realization.

  She noticed too late, however. The magic shot into her before she could act, leaving her screeching in pain, jumping around like her shoes were on fire.

  I couldn’t help laughing, joy winding through me as I watched her hop around like a little bean.

  “No fair!” she yelled as she pranced, her retaliation attack coming seconds later.

  The ability, while powerful, was so poorly planned all I had to do was sidestep, my laugh echoing louder against the old, stone walls.

  “Nice try.”

  The bright yellow streak burst into a firework of green and gold, glitter splattering against the barrier with a crash, leaving both of us staring at it in disbelief—me, laughing maniacally; her, on the border between humor and frustration.

  “Stop doing that! Let me get you!” Joclyn screeched with a stomp of her foot, her movements making it clear she was already lining up her next attack.

  “Ha!” I laughed loudly, purposefully pushing her buttons. “You would have to play a lot harder than that for a flimsy attack to work, Jos. I am a master assassin, after all.”

  “Oh! Is that what you are calling yourself?” she prodded, her voice seeping with humor and malice, the two emotions winding together in warning as she moved around me. Her steps were slow and calculated as I matched her step for step. “I thought more like, ‘poor, little, cursed child’ was a better fit. I mean … Your attacks are a little weak!”

  With one step, her magic exploded toward me in a wall of purple flames, dancing w
ith the black of death I recognized all too well.

  Jumping with one swift movement, I countered, my own stream of ability spreading over the wall with a crash, beating against my ears painfully.

  Her wall shimmered for a second before it exploded into whips of smoke, long tendrils of green and grey drifting toward the ceiling as what she had hoped would end me faded into oblivion, leaving me staring at a slack-jawed mongrel again.

  “Come on, Jos,” I teased. “I’ve watched enough TV to know better. You can’t play the old ‘talk and distract’ thing on me. This isn’t a Saturday morning cartoon.”

  “It was worth a shot, Wyn,” she admitted, her smile growing.

  “So is polio.”

  A smile leaked out, a wide grin spreading over my face like syrup: slow and sticky. The mischievousness of the look was not lost on Joclyn, who laughed knowingly then shot up into the air like a bullet, wind pulling her up like a carnival ride, the brilliant gold ribbon of her bonding trailing behind her.

  With a laugh, I followed suit, the wind moving around me before I soared over the smooth, marbled floor. Where Joclyn had chosen to jump, to rocket through the buttresses and stained glass windows of the magnificent cathedral, I went low. My body was a straight arrow as I sped inches above the ancient floor, eyes scanning over the surface as I watched through the red-tinted light for the shadow of a bird I was going to ground.

  “Kill the Wendy-Bird!” I screamed as her body came into sight, my own spinning over so fast I could feel the heat of my magic as it escaped from me, the string of flames flying from my hands before I had even faced her, before she could even notice it. She didn’t even have a chance to dodge.

  One line of fire. One flying best friend.

  Or so I expected.

  Except, the attack exploded against the barrier instead of her. Light and sparks fell like a million shooting stars, the same as hers had done. It could have been beautiful if I didn’t already know what was coming, if I didn’t know I was being stalked.

  My heart thundered painfully in my chest, everything tensing in expectation as I waited for the attack, certain this time I wouldn’t be able to escape.