Soul Fire

by Legacy, Aprille

  After Larni had splinted my wrist better than I could’ve done it myself and managed to make me go to bed, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. I wondered what his name was, how old he was, where he was from. Was he from the human realm or was he born here? What made him turn to the rogues?

  Had he deserved to die?

  I rolled over onto my side, the window breathing fresh air onto me. My hair ruffled in the breeze, and I closed my eyes as Morri landed on the pillow next to me.

  When it came down to it, if he hadn’t died, I would’ve. I now understood the meaning of survival of the fittest.

  The next morning dawned bright and unacceptably cheery. I headed to the infirmary before the mess hall to check on Phoenix. Jett, who was still sitting with him, said that he’d be fine in another couple of hours.

  It was in the mess hall that I noticed something different about the place. We hadn’t lost any students or staff, but the mages who had come to help us had lost some of their own. They planned to leave as soon as they could travel again to grieve in their own cities.

  When Iain and Netalia came to us at the end of the meal, I really thought they were just going to say something about the rogues. So I headed to the Main Hall with the other students, completely unsuspecting. When we got there, Professor Watt took me aside, but didn’t say a word. I looked at her, wondering why I’d been singled out, but she refused to meet my gaze.

  “After these few days of grief, I regret to tell you that they are not yet over,” Iain said, locking his hands behind his back. “One of the students here has broken our most sacred of rules.”

  Fire shot up my spine and for the first time since meeting the rogues in the forest, I was wide awake.

  Iain motioned something to Professor Watt, who pushed me forwards, though not roughly. I stumbled into the aisle between the rows of chairs.

  “Sky, you have broken the rules by falling in love with your soul mate,” Netalia said, and I couldn’t help but notice something like triumph in her silver eyes. “For this, you are banished.”

  “What?” I asked, just as the other students began to protest loudly.

  It was only when two of the city mages took me by my upper arms to drag me from the hall that I grasped what was happening.

  “Let me go!” I told the mages, wrestling against their grip furiously.

  “Where’s your proof?” Theresa shouted at them from where she was standing.

  “Yesterday we allowed her and Phoenix to be cornered on the upper levels. We saw with our own eyes the kiss that should never have taken place.”

  “You were there?” I asked quietly, and the mages who held me froze in place. “You watched him get taken away?”

  “Yes,” Netalia said, and now I was sure that she was loving this. “And now we have the proof we needed.”

  “No, enough!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the hall. I wrenched free of the mages. “The real criminals in this hall stand before us!”

  Everyone looked to Iain and Netalia, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

  “I lied, Netalia,” I told her. Everyone had gone quiet, listening to me. “I lied when I said our trip to Riverdoor was enjoyable,” I began to walk up the middle of the aisle towards them. “The city was in ruin, in despair. They were being hunted by a Du’rangor; Petre’s brother Samlin was taken by it! They were cut off from their sister city, they needed mages, they needed help, but when they turned to you, their leaders, they got nothing!” My voice rose to a shout and Netalia flinched as though I’d physically hit her. I wish I had. “How long were you going to stand by while your people suffered?”

  “Stop!” Netalia screeched, but I was too far gone.

  “NO! I’ve kept quiet for so long, but hey, the damage is done,” I laughed hysterically. “What else can you possibly do to me? Huh? What else are you going to inflict upon me? I’m sorry that I’m different. I’m sorry I broke the rules. I’m sorry for being the mage that wouldn’t abide by yourrule. But since when is it your decision to say who stays and who goes? You get rid of me, fine, that’s cool, but don’t think for a second, that I am done here. This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, I know it. And you know it too, don’t you?”

  Netalia was white, her finger shaking as she pointed at me. She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.

  “No, I’m sick of hearing you ‘decree’ things,” I mimicked her hand movements as I said ‘decree’. “I’m tired of hearing you declare things. Who died and made you rulers of the world?”

  “Queen Fleur,” Iain boomed suddenly, and I was so shocked that I stopped talking. “On her death, we were charged with keeping the country running.”

  “That was a thousand years ago,” I protested. “There’s no way that could possibly be true.”

  “It is,” Netalia said. “We’ve kept this country in order since the Second Queen died.”

  “Not very well,” I snorted, and a few students smirked, especially Petre. He was white and shaking with anger as he stood and marched to my side.

  “My father called for your aid,” he said quietly. “I thought my little brother dead. He very nearly was. And now you banish his saviour? She’s saved all of us over and over again, proved her worth time and time again. My little brother will grow up to be a mage and I hope for his sake that you are not in charge when he comes here. I hope your bigotry is long gone before my brother steps foot through those doors.”

  “She saved me as well,” Yasmin told her, coming to stand on my other side. “Destroying a dam that the Orthandrellians had built and cut off the water supply to Abdoor. It was an illegal dam; you should’ve dealt with it before we had to. As a result I almost died and I would’ve if it hadn’t been for Sky.”

  Tears were beginning to collect in my eyes now as I heard their defence of me. But from the look on Netalia’s face, she was becoming more and more fond of the idea of banishing me. I was the problem, I was the catalyst, and this would all go away, would all be forgotten if I wasn’t here.

  “That being said,” she started slowly. “The fact is that we rule this Academy. Not the students. Not the staff. Especially not you, Sky.” There was pure hatred in her glance at me. I made sure it was returned. “We decide how things are run in this country, and I will certainly not have my mind changed by a silly little chit who thinks she knows what love is!”

  “So you think I don’t know what love is?” I asked quietly. I might have her here. “But you’re banishing me for it?”

  The other students were murmuring to themselves. Netalia looked like she was realising that she might have just lost this argument.

  “Enough,” Iain said, his deep voice calming down any conversation amongst the students and mages. “We’ve decided. Take her outside,” he said to the mages who stood behind me.

  The students were on their feet now, shouting at their Master and Second Master. I didn’t let the older mages grab me again. Instead I walked, my heart banging in my chest. I felt like I was walking to my own execution. Everyone followed us out the front doors, onto the grounds which were sunny and bright. The breeze lifted my hair and dried the unfallen tears in my eyes as Morri descended upon me, shrieking his disappointment. He landed on my arm for the last time, and I noticed that his arrival had greatly unsettled Iain who was right behind me.

  “Goodbye, Morrigan,” I said, the tears beginning to flow. He flew off and I looked up to my bedroom window, to see with a painful twist of my heart, saw Larni staring out of it, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

  Her scarf. I’d forgotten to give her the red scarf. Maybe they’d let me back inside for one last time. One last time to see my room and hug Larni goodbye. But one look at Netalia told me that she was going to do whatever was in her power to make my farewell miserable.

  “NO!”

  Everyone looked towards Jett, who had come to stand in the doorway. The look on his face was utter disbelief.

  “You would do to her what you would do to Le
na?”

  Iain’s face darkened.

  “I am aware, Jettais, of your past mistakes, but it does not excuse another for repeating them.”

  Jett fell silent, but the look of anger on his face did not subside. His eyes didn’t leave mine.

  “Sky, you have two minutes to say goodbye to everyone. Except one.” Iain was firm.

  I bowed my head and felt the tears welling up. After all I’d been through, I couldn’t even say goodbye to the one I loved. I would never see him again, and I would have no memory of him.

  Many pairs of arms encircled me. I cried into all of them, as they cried into me. Dena, Theresa, Yasmin, Rain, Petre, Ispin, Dustin, even Raven was there. Others I didn’t know also joined the hug. We stood together for what felt like a few minutes, but before I realised that it had been two minutes, Jett was pulling me away.

  “Wait,” I whispered, struggling away from him for a second. “Dena.”

  She came to me, and hugged me one last time. I took advantage of the hug to whisper in her ear.

  “Rose,” I hissed quietly. “Rose Evermore.”

  A final squeeze and she stepped away, nodding slightly. My ticket to coming back here, to knowing all wasn’t lost. It felt fitting, as though one of my last acts in the mage world was disregarding the rules, for the last time.

  Jett put his hand on my shoulder and steered me away. Everyone followed.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Sky,” he said quietly.

  I ignored him; there was something more pressing on my mind, something I needed to know before the end. I’d been suspecting for awhile, but I hadn’t let myself consciously think it.

  “Jett!” My voice was hushed; I knew I couldn’t let the others overhear what I was about to say, no matter how badly I wanted it to be true. “Jett, you know her name, don’t you? Lena’s human name, what is it?!”

  We stopped in front of Iain, Netalia standing just behind me. I turned away from the look of savage triumph on her face, instead looking at the crowd who’d gathered in the doors. I could see Dena standing next to the others, tears streaming down her face. Just when I thought Jett wasn’t going to speak, he lifted his head and spoke one word.

  “Christina.”

  “Sky, you have broken the rules of our world and will be likewise punished. I call on the power as Master of this Academy-”

  “Christina!” my chubby little legs carried me along, and the name fell from my mouth again. “Christina!”

  “There’s my beautiful little Rose,” strong arms scooped me up and I giggled with delight. “But you don’t call me that, sweetheart. You call me Mum.”

  “Mum,”I repeated dutifully. “Mum.”

  “To banish you hence-”

  Suddenly everything was clear. I looked up at Jett, seeing him as though for the first time, all of the little similarities. I opened my mouth to tell him. It seemed too fantastic to be true, but he’d confirmed it with her name. I had one word to say, just one, that would fix everything.

  “From this Academy and the continent of Lotheria.”

  There was a bright flash of light. I heard my name being called by someone in the distance. He sounded upset.

  “Phoenix.” I murmured, and then I was gone.

  ~Epilogue~

  The soft sunlight woke me. I was tucked into my bed, the covers warm and familiar. My wrist hurt, and when I lifted it, I saw a splint. Why did I have a splint? I couldn’t remember, but my wrist was too painful to probe any further.

  I could hear Mum in the kitchen downstairs. I groaned, staring up at the ceiling. I longed for the day when I would be different, when I could get out of Ar Cena, break the cycle of this lazy little town.

  But it wouldn’t be today.

  About the Author

  Aprille Legacy is a twenty something who lives in Adelaide, South Australia. Soul Fire is her first selfpublished novel, with two more in the trilogy to follow and most likely countless others.

  Soul Fire can be found on Goodreads.com or on Amazon.com

  Heiress of Healing

  (Heiress of Seven Cities #1)

  By Sonya Lano

  Every generation, seven sons are born to the regent of the First Demesne, each of those seven sons fated to rule one of the seven demesnes. This generation, there are no septuplets. There are no sons.

  There’s only a single girl. Forbidden by her father to ever heal again, Iminique Demascus nonetheless saves the newborn princess from a nameless evil. Born into a realm where the poor foment rebellion and the rich revile her as weak, the child is unwanted by both her parents and the people. Iminique becomes her sole protector, forced to ally herself with the wizard who tried to murder them both, a wizard who casts spells that should be impossible.

  Meanwhile, in the south, a young sorceress falls prey to an ancient enemy…

  Read on for a thrilling excerpt from this emerging author...

  The distant scream echoed through the palace corridors, cutting across a ballroom bathed in the glimmer of a thousand candles and the men and women in brilliant jeweled tones swarming across it. For an instant they froze, a vibrant slice of time suspended, then the scream stopped and they resumed their twirling and laughing, their tittering, toasting, and boasting, pretending they didn’t care what that scream meant.

  Their shadowy counterparts whirled with them, spinning inside the enormous arched windows that lined the stone walls, stretching from floor to ceiling, the diamond-paned glass darkened by the night sky beyond.

  Only Iminique ’s shadowy reflection stood still and silent among them, her eyes too wide and dark for her face, her diminutive form alternately hidden then exposed by the whimsy of the dancers twisting and twining around her.

  Another scream shivered overhead, but this time the revelry went staunchly on without pause. Only Iminique remained motionless, with every fiber of her being fighting the urge to seek out that scream and ease that pain. Her fingers twitched. Her power pulsed at the edges of her mind. It made her head ache, full to bursting.

  “You think she’ll birth a living childthis time?” Her father’s gravelly voice drifted across her bloated consciousness. His reflection scowled, dark brows swooping down, self-indulgent jowls aquiver with indignation, their owner well embroiled in his debate with another grim-faced ambassador. They flanked Iminique, two robust men in brocaded waistcoats, their thick fingers clutching wine glasses and fiddling with decorative pocket watches.

  “T he midwives predicted twins,” came Ambassador Henrikei’s conciliatory tone, his head bobbing forward. “That’s twice the chance of a living heir.”

  “A living heir? Oneliving heir?” Snorting, her father lifted another glass of Second Demesne wine to his lips but then lowered it without drinking. “Who cares about twice the chance? We need the full seven. There’ll be mutiny among the masses and murder among the nobility if she can’t bear the septuplets.”

  Another cry wrenched across the ballroom. Iminique kept her eyes on the window’s dark reflection of reality and grappled with her throbbing power, tamping it down.

  Henrikei grimaced, tapping a fingertip against his wineglass.“The septuplets have been born every generation for centuries, Joufei. And the queen is young yet.”

  “And wed seven years with naught but miscarriages and dead singles to show for it.” His voice hitched, stumbling and slurring the hind end of his sentence.

  The uneven rhythm of her father’s faltering heart trickled into Iminique’s consciousness, bringing her head round and luring her, unwilling, back to the garishness of reality. Slowly, as if the amassed power inside imparted her with the sluggishness of a dream, she looked at her father.

  Two bright spots of scarlet splotched the cheeks above his wineglass’s rim, his florid complexion nearly as red as the brocaded ruby waistcoat straining over his paunch. Beads of sweat dotted his brow. Plucking out a handkerchief, he dabbed at them, his breathing coming louder and harsher.

  Pushing a tendril of magic into his skin,
Iminique waded through the layers of fat, muscle, bone, and tissue, her mind’s eye following her magic’s path, tracing veins to the source of the irregular murmur: a build-up of...whatever it was that clogged the veins and arteries of his heart.

  Swiftly and with the ease of repeated practice, she picked apart the blockage, dissolving it until it disintegrated fully and his blood pumped freely, relieving the strain on his heart.

  The crimson blotches on his face faded and he downed the rest of his glass, relinquishing the empty one and plucking another full one off the tray of a passing servant.

  The blue and gray liveried servant offered some to her, but Iminique declined. Known for its odd greenish color and fresh lemon-mint taste, Second Demesne wine was a muchsought-after luxury, but her first consumption of it tonight hadn’t impressed her. It still clung bitter and acrid to the underside of her tongue, making her feel as if bile had gathered there rather than the leftovers of fine wine.

  The servant bowed an exit, and Iminique noted that the anxiety contorting her father’s face relaxed. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt better, and if she could help it, he would never find out that her healing was keeping him alive.

  Henrikei lowered his voice, sloshing his wine carelessly as he leaned forward. “I’ve heard there are riots in the Fifth Quarter again.”

  Her father barked laughter, eyes following a pretty, darkhaired girl dancing past. “Riots! Huh. Nothing will come of it. The malcontents will always rise up against their betters, but without the brains, the brawn or the supplies of the wealthy, they will get nowhere.”

  Iminique didn’t agree with him, but was smart enough to hold her tongue. She’d sensed the seething resentment that lurked below the surface of servility even in their own servants. The discontent stirring the heart of povertyhadn’t yet hardened into resolve, but the breaking point would come if the magnate did nothing to ease their plight.

  “What we really need to watch out for are the weirs.” Her father’s eyes finally slid away from the dark-haired girl. He smiled his meaningless smile at Henrikei. “Thankfully we have the walls to keep them out.”