No. No. After all we’ve done, if I shift into the battle mindset with you…
Can I look at you the same? I’ll never need to fight you. You’re an ally. If I fight you, and see you as the enemy, see you as a magicologist…
“Fight is the wrong word,” Erda said. “It’s more like practice, because I will not actually try to harm you and you will not attack me.”
The tension in Crystil’s body dissipated as her shoulders relaxed. It’s still not ideal, but it’ll work.
“What do you want me to do?” Crystil asked.
“Stand near the stairs. Cyrus, you probably won’t want to be in our way.”
Crystil turned before she could get distracted with Cyrus and paced to her destination. Stay calm. It’s practice. She’s not a magicologist. She’s a trainer. Trainers kick your butt sometimes. It’s supposed to happen.
She faced Erda, who had equipped her mask. Crystil quelled her immediate reaction and placed her sword in the defensive position.
“Deflect and reflect all of the spells I throw your way, Crystil. All of them.”
Crystil nodded and reacted as Erda threw a lightning spell her way. It came at her furiously, like a real lightning strike would, and Crystil barely deflected the bolt over her head. She could feel the heat scorching her forehead as it passed.
Before she could breathe, a fire spell came, one which Crystil had enough time to reflect. But to her disturbing surprise, the flame came right back at her faster than before. She deflected it, but the force knocked her to the ground.
“A reflected spell can be reflected an infinite number of times,” Erda advised. “The spell gains power and speed with every reflection. Keep this in mind for enemies who deliberately set you up with a slow spell, or ones who have preternatural reflexes.”
Crystil nodded as she gripped her sword. An ice spell came, and the two volleyed the spell back and forth until Erda deflected it into space. It felt cold enough to freeze the oceans of Anatolus by the time Erda removed it.
Erda shot a lightning spell, which Crystil reflected, but Erda timed a fire spell to follow that Crystil could not react to in time. It hit her full force and burned her arm.
“Ow!” she yelled as she went to the ground, extinguishing the fire.
Erda ran over quickly, placing her arm on Crystil. Crystil gritted her teeth as the healing process began, a painful but quick procedure.
“Oh, man, you got burned!” Cyrus yelled, but a look from Crystil shut him up. “Sorry.”
Crystil turned back to Erda, and the older woman offered her a hand. It felt good to Crystil that she did not have any reservations about taking the offer, even after battling the Kastori.
“You tend to operate on the rhythm of battle, which is good because that’s how you stay alive. But always be aware of those who go out of it.”
“Huh?” Cyrus said as he walked over, but Crystil needed no further explanation. She understood from years of experience what Erda meant.
“Don’t worry too much,” Erda said silently so Cyrus did not hear. “I set you up to fail with the speed. I am aware of only one other Kastori who can match my speed.”
You don’t need to say who. We know.
Erda waited until Cyrus had walked over to address both of them.
“Both of you have progressed remarkably in the last two weeks. I feel completely confident now that when we go to Monda to rescue your sister, we will succeed as long as Typhos is not there. But before we go—unless I suddenly sense Typhos has left—I recommend you both face your biggest challenge yet.”
Crystil tightened her grip on the sword. A replica of Typhos?
“Have you sensed anything about Typhos or Celeste before we do that?” Cyrus said.
Erda shook her head.
“Typhos does not seem to have the rage that he had before. I cannot sense Celeste through the darkness that Typhos has cast, but I promise you Typhos would not be this quiet if he had just killed your sister.”
Exactly what I thought.
“Are you two ready? Do you need any rest or food before—”
“No,” Crystil and Cyrus said simultaneously, surprising both of them. It brought a short laugh and a fleeting smile to Erda.
“Then you will descend the stairs behind you. You may have noticed the stairs go down both routes. Back in the ancient times, we used to test Kastori warriors two at a time on this mountain. The mountain’s magic dives into your psyche, senses what you fear the most, and presents that to you in the form of a fight. Don’t ask me what you will fight, because I do not know. It can change for the same person across time. If you emerge from these caves victorious, it means fear will never stop you in battle.”
Cyrus started to speak, but Erda put her hand up to silence him.
“I cannot assist you further or answer any more questions. I have told you all that I know. The rest depends on you and what the magic of the area determines is your weak point.”
I wonder what mine is, Crystil thought. I don’t really fear anything.
Seeing no reason to wait, Crystil turned and walked down the first flight of steps. Immediately, the temperature dropped, and the stars in the sky dimmed. The wind accelerated, and the land below became clouded by fog. Crystil couldn’t explain it, since she didn’t have magic, but she felt a pull to her right, down the staircase. I’m not even Kastori, how…
She turned around, and sure enough, Cyrus faced the left pathway. He glanced at her, and though he tried to hide the fear on his face, his voice gave him away.
“You ready?”
“Always,” Crystil said, trying to pass confidence to him.
“Good. I… I’m a bit worried about what I’ll see. I can already hear voices. They sound like… Celeste. And my father. And you.”
Crystil gulped. She didn’t hear any voices, but she knew if this was what he faced…
“No matter what, fight, Cyrus. This is not going to be the point where we lose, OK?”
Cyrus nodded and Crystil came up and grabbed his arm.
“Don’t quit. Fight.”
A nervous smile spread across his face as his eyes narrowed in on hers. Crystil felt a warm tingle in her stomach.
“I always know when you say something, it’s going to happen. Even if it’s you telling me to leave the ship.”
A loud laugh came as Crystil embraced Cyrus fully. They pulled back after a couple of seconds and locked eyes, their hands on each other, so close, close enough to…
But a cold, loud wind hit them both, and thunder rumbled above them as the planet itself seemed intent on terrorizing both of them.
“Fight,” Crystil said. I know he will.
“You better too,” Cyrus said.
As if there’s any doubt.
But as she descended the stairs and the howling of the wind turned into a scream, the thunder amplified into a booming echo, and an ominous, gut-twisting feeling consumed her mind, Crystil began to wonder what kind of fight she was about to take on.
37
All of the confidence Cyrus had developed and the stoicism he had embraced vanished with the terrible feeling that crept in him as he descended.
The lightning above him intensified, and bolts struck mere feet away. The wind gusted at such speeds he worried he’d get blown off the stairs. It became impossible to see anything except the next three steps. It’s like the test is just getting to the cave, not the cave itself.
The voices terrified him the most. At first, the voices were too soft to identify. But by the time he had spoken to Crystil, he could tell who spoke. They were the people he loved, and from different points in his life.
“When does Dad come home, Cyrus?”
“Son, you’re going to need to watch over your sister.”
“When does the war with the magicologists end?”
As he descended, the voices reflected more recent events.
“This is for your own safety. I love you both.”
“NO!”
“If you take on this devil-may-care attitude, Cyrus, you don’t just hurt yourself. You hurt us. You hurt me. You put your sister in danger.”
“Appreciate what we’ve done, because tonight is as likely a night as any for this to be the end.”
“I’m not you guys. I am the outsider here, the anomaly on this planet. I’m the one who is just clinging on, trying to survive a new world with the aid of an alien race.”
“Cyrus! Run!”
He reached the entrance of the cave, and the voices went mute. The weather battered him and he walked into the darkness. When he turned around, the entrance had vanished. He no longer heard thunder or the wind outside. He could see himself, but nothing more.
He heard the growl of Calypsius and quickly pulled his sword out, looking for the massive creature. It never appeared.
But the voices resumed. And not all of them were of people he loved.
“Cowards!”
“Dad would be ashamed of you, Cyrus. I’m ashamed of you.”
He cast a fire spell on the sword, hoping it would brighten the cave. But in this void, there was nothing to illuminate.
Then the first object appeared.
A single stair, about twenty feet wide. Cautiously, Cyrus approached. He placed one foot on it, and it held. He stepped up with both feet. More steps appeared. He climbed.
After about twenty steps, the step flattened out to an extended platform. He walked along slowly until he came to a large, wooden door, split down the middle with two identical handles. Those handles displayed the seal of his father’s empire—but with cracks.
Cyrus gulped as he pushed open the doors. He raised his hands as a bright light enveloped him. Slowly, he opened his eyes through his fingers. He was at the entrance to his father’s palace. The garden around him lay in ruins, with dead plants sprawled out everywhere. The ground underneath his feet had several cracks, many which looked like they would destroy the foundation of the palace. The sky glowed a dark red, and lightning struck across the heavens. The air had become warm—too warm, like he was near a massive fire.
He turned around and saw a lone figure in black robes with golden stripes and blood stains in front of him, with his back to him. Cyrus took two steps toward him before he turned around, revealing a dark, faceless void where the face should be. He pulled a sword out from its sheath, a long, thick blade with a black stone in the hilt. With his free hand, he pulled the robes back, revealing long, auburn colored hair.
No.
It’s not him.
It’s her.
No…
The figure removed her mask, and Cyrus’ legs went weak.
Celeste.
38
How long has it been since I saw Typhos? At least a few days. I don’t know anymore.
Celeste looked down at her body, which had shriveled from a slowly worsening diet. The muscles in her body had become less defined. Not gonna be able to help Typhos much in this state.
She thought about her reality and struggled to believe she wasn’t in a world of Typhos’ creation.
The sound of boots clanged on the hard floor. Celeste gulped as she sat up on her bed, pressing her back against the wall. The door opened in a controlled manner, and Typhos entered with his hands by his side.
“Good evening, Celeste,” he said. “I know it has been quite a while since we last spoke. I needed some space and would like to apologize once more for my uncontrolled outburst toward you. I acted inappropriately, and I am sorry.”
Is he sincere? Or is this a ploy? It seems awfully real to be a trick.
Maybe he’s just that good.
Or he just wants me to join him that badly.
She looked the man up and down and saw that he had discarded his typical robes and sword. He carried no weapon, an encouraging sign that steered her toward the more optimistic possibility.
“Thanks,” she said, trying not to show too much appreciation. It can change at any moment.
“Now that we have that out of the way,” he said. “I have come to talk about the future and what I have in store for you. I have ambitions beyond Monda and Anatolus. I don’t need you to control these worlds since I’ve done it myself. But I would like your help in what lies beyond.”
Typhos raised his hand, and the black void appeared, but only temporarily. Seconds later, the emptiness filled with stars and nebulous galaxies, some green, some red, and some yellow in all directions—even beneath Celeste. It gave her the illusion of floating.
“Impressed?” Typhos said.
“Yeah,” Celeste admitted.
“This is just the tip of what I can do,” he said. I know. Thanks for the reminder of Calypsius and my father. “You see just a sliver of what I wish to control—namely, everything. But let’s focus on what has my attention.”
The sensation of flying through space hit Celeste, and within seconds, she saw a familiar planet, one with a single continent and a mountain so high it seemed to jut into the reaches of space.
“Anatolus, my… home,” Typhos said bitterly. “Once home to the corrupt and incompetent council and chief, I managed to decimate it and take it for myself within a couple of years—and only then because I hadn’t learned my full potential. Calypsius served as a wonderful proxy for me until you showed up. I am still furious about that, but if I replace Calypsius with you, I would feel much better.”
Celeste ignored Typhos as she looked closer at the rendering of Anatolus. There’s no meteor impact. There should be something.
This is out of date. The ship’s not even there. He has no idea what’s happening on Anatolus right now.
If they’re alive…
“I have no use for Anatolus. The planet is uninhabitable and all life will surely die soon.”
Celeste angrily turned to him.
“You don’t know anything about my friends and brother,” she said. “If you want me on my side, you may want to understand their power.”
“An interesting lie for someone without any leverage or living allies,” Typhos said ominously, adding nothing more as the view switched from Anatolus to a similar-looking planet.
“Home,” Celeste said. As it was before he came here. Beautiful. Clean. Only natural storms. Life everywhere. Nothing burned into ash.
“Yes, your planet was, admittedly, tougher than I expected, but victory was still inevitable. And now here I am, all these years later, and I hunger for more. There’s something about the thrill of conquest that gets you going like nothing else can.”
That sounds exactly like Crystil.
Two sides of the same coin?
“Let me show you what I have in mind now.”
The void flashed to a new world, one mostly brown with only splotches of water—a planet where water was the most valuable, and scarcest, resource. Storms enveloped the world.
“Nubia,” Typhos said, with almost an intense level of awe that bordered on worship.
A second planet appeared, white as snow and with nary a cloud but also no sun nearby.
“Vostoka,” Typhos said, his voice not quite as intense.
A third one, full of storms, vegetation, and rivers, came to view, lining up with the other two planets.
“Tapuya.”
Celeste held out a hand to each world, as if she could grab them. They seemed so different, but in this vision, they all carried a special allure she felt drawn to.
“These three planets contain the most powerful magic that the Kastori know of. The Kastori say that one powerful enough to absorb the planet’s magic would also destroy the planet in the process—but if one tried to and were not strong enough, they would die trying to absorb the power, and the planet instead would grow even more powerful.”
“And you would destroy them for your own personal gain?” Celeste snapped.
Typhos shrugged, disgustingly nonchalantly.
“Taking over Monda served a personal n
eed. You could say that these three serve my power needs. If I could collect the magic from all three planets, I wouldn’t just stop at the known worlds. I could find other worlds, and conquer them too.”
“And to what purpose?”
Typhos did not answer as he lined up the three planets with Monda and Anatolus.
“It all starts with these five worlds. Anatolus, my home. Monda, my first conquest. Nubia, the essence of black magic. Vostoka, the essence of white magic. And Tapuya, the essence of red magic.”
“And you need me for this… why?” Celeste said.
“Why?” Typhos said.
“Yes, why. Do you want me to have one of these planets?”
“Oh, don’t be so greedy, Celeste,” Typhos said with a sardonic laugh. “No, I need you to clean the planets out before I arrive, to make my job that much easier.”
“Of what?”
“You really don’t know,” Typhos said. “Child, your people have long inhabited these planets, and the Kastori have long hidden in their ranks.”
39
“What are you even talking about?” Celeste said, more confused than disturbed. “My father never said anything about us colonizing other planets.”
“Of course not, because you never asked him.”
Celeste folded her arms in defiance.
“See, it’s becoming apparent to me, Celeste, that while you love your father, you shouldn’t trust him. How much do you really know about him? Or your mother, for that matter? The woman who died giving birth to you?”
“What does this have to do with anything?” Celeste said, disturbed at the truth of what Typhos said.
“It has to do with the reality of the situation. You hate me, but you know I have always told you the truth. You love your father, but now it turns out there are plenty of secrets that you do not know.”
He never did tell us about going to Anatolus until the last second. But he was just protecting us.
“Tell me, Celeste, when you were going to Anatolus, was it a certainty that you would find it?”
“No,” she said defiantly.
“Strange. Your father had known of Anatolus before he shot you off into space. He lied to you to keep you on edge and focused. He told you, perhaps, that this was humanity’s last chance at survival when, in reality, he had to have known that even though we were coming to destroy him, we had plenty of use for human slaves.”
Kastori Devastations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 2) Page 14