All eyes watched with wonder.
“I will not speak unappreciative words for that reason. Here is what I can say. Without Erda, I am certainly not alive, and without Erda, most of us are probably not alive. I can look at every single person here, and say why they would not be alive without Erda. Cyrus, she guided us toward their refugee spot in the camp. Without her help, we die from a lack of water or Calypsius. Crystil, her help in the cockpit helped give us victory. Her ability to enhance the weaponry which we encountered was incredibly useful, and that would’ve been a short battle without her. To the Kastori I do not know, Erda taught us compassion, ensuring that we did not do anything we would regret to you. And Dad… you know her the best of any of us, I think.”
The Emperor nodded, not saying anything.
“Without Erda, perhaps you are still alive. But you wouldn’t have nearly the reason to live that you do now, with two children who both love you very much. I cannot say if Typhos knew of your connection to her. But I can say that your love for us, the love which kept you going even as you slaved in manual labor camps for two years, your title stripped from you, came only because of Erda. For that reason too, I can say you would not be here without Erda.”
With that, she softened her voice.
“Does anyone else wish to say anything about Erda?”
But she already knew the outcome. Crystil had no real relationship to speak of and preferred to stay silent at these events. Cyrus was still working through his feelings, and could not trust himself to keep his comments polite. And her father had said everything that needed to be said.
I just wish there was someone else here. That someone would never speak their mind, and would only speak ill of her. But if we could get him to speak honestly, about the kind of woman she was before her first husband died… and of what she could have been…
She didn’t finish the thought. The Erda she knew, she liked enough she didn’t need to wonder what if.
“Then with that, we send Erda to eternal rest.”
She walked to the base of the pyre for a half-beat longer than she planned to. Without her, it’s me up there.
Her mind flashed back to the speech Crystil had given her, back when Calypsius still terrorized them and they thought they were the only three people on the planet. If you’re already dead, you have nothing to fear.
I’m not dead. But I experienced something very close to it. I can picture myself up there easily.
I’m not afraid. Typhos has already brought me to the brink. Facing him will not frighten me. I will save him from himself, or we will both die.
I accept either outcome. And it’s because of you, Erda.
Thank you.
She threw the torch at the base and turned and walked to her father’s side as the flames scaled the pyre. Her father draped his arm around her, and she watched silently as her mother became one with Anatolus. Off in the distance, she could hear lupi howling to the stars, their voices sorrowful, yearning and mourning.
Two hours later, she stood at the crater, the place that had devastated their old home. Nothing that was on Anatolus a year ago remained. Sobering.
“Celeste.”
The young girl turned and saw Crystil approaching. Her voice sounded warm but also searching.
“You OK?”
Celeste took a second but eventually nodded.
“I am,” she said. “And it’s time for us to prepare. I need to go to Vostoka and gather as much strength as I can. I need you to gather our forces on Monda and get the factories up and running again in preparation for whatever monsters Typhos brings. And have Cyrus go with you, and have him train the Kastori for battle.”
Crystil’s smile increased as she listened to the fearless woman before her.
“And when do we start?”
Celeste’s face started with a smile, but quickly turned determined with a singular focus.
“Now.”
Epilogue
She’s dead.
She sacrificed herself so the girl could live.
She’s really, finally dead.
The wounds still fresh on Typhos’ shoulder and his mask still broken, he slowly rose to his feet inside his tent on Nubia. His white magic Kastori patrolled the tent, furiously casting spells. He walked away from the tent, wanting to be alone. Outside, the winds gusted with a fury, and the desert had turned from blazing hot to surprisingly cold.
“Let me be,” he communicated to the Kastori, with less anger than usual.
After walking out of sight of the Kastori, he fell to his knees.
My mother is dead.
I’ve been waiting for this day for years. I’ve been waiting for her to feel the kind of pain that I have.
I should feel good. I should feel pleased. I should feel joyful that I have finally ridden myself of the biggest source of pain.
Instead, all I’m left with is…
“What if?” he muttered, his voice shaking.
A single tear fell from the exposed eye of Typhos before he bit his lip and stopped any more emotional displays. He turned and walked with a fury to the tent, trying to suppress his sadness but knowing he would never completely do so.
Preview of “Kastori Tribulations”
The following is an excerpt from the next book in the series, “Kastori Tribulations,” a prequel to “Kastori Revelations.”
“There’s no place for you to run to now, Erda,” Typhos said, treating the name as the foulest thing he’d ever said. “You can’t retreat to Monda. You can’t pity your way into my sympathy. You have no lying husband to throw yourself into. You have no son who will love you. You’re done.”
His mother said nothing, instead looking at him… warmly? Coldly? Sadly? Even with his red magic, Typhos couldn’t quite decipher her. The sadness he had seen in her eyes had vanished for a complex look he could not place.
It infuriated him.
“Do you know what you’ve done to me the last few years?” Typhos said with creeping sadness. “Do you see what I have become because of you? Do you sense how many people have died because of the darkness your absence instilled inside of me? Do you see how much suffering I have experienced?”
Erda said nothing, but this time, the expression on her face reverted to sadness.
“Of course you don’t. You’ve always lived for yourself. You never loved me.”
“Don’t say that,” Erda said. “Typhos…”
Hearing his name from his mother sparked rage in him. He walked toward her, ready to hit her. At the last second, he instead brushed by her, his robes colliding with hers, as he grabbed the sword from the black statue. He held the long blade, with the sharpest edges he had ever felt and a black emerald in the hilt, and swung it with ease. He brought it to her, with only unbridled anger guiding him.
“I’m sorry. I have always loved you and still do. But I know nothing I can say will matter.”
Typhos paused, the sword close enough to strike her. Nothing you say will matter. Just like everything you said to me in my childhood.
“You have that right. You ruined me! You left me to turn into this! And now, because of you, your council is dead. Ramadus is dead. Fargus is dead. Garron is dead. All at my hand. Your white magic council members would be wise to hide, because… because they’re going to be joining the others. Just like you are now!”
To Typhos’ surprise, his mother never once stopped him. She seemed accepting—almost embracing—of her fate.
“I knew this was coming,” Erda said without pleading. “As soon as I sensed that you had killed Ramadus, I knew that I had lost you. There is nothing that I can do to bring back the cheerful boy that I still love and know is in you somewhere. The man I look at now is not my son, but the body of my son inhabited by a dark spirit. I acknowledge that we, as a council, and I, as your mother, failed to help. I always thought you would turn into a great man. But I did not do my part.”
Typhos bit his lip as he raised the sword but, without thinking
about it, took two steps backward.
“Typhos, understand, I have failed you in many ways. Many, many ways. But if I had not gone to Monda, I would have failed others in even worse ways. Someone had to suffer, and I believed you would best handle it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Typhos spat.
“You know you’re not my only son. You know that if I had raised him here, away from his father and his home—”
“Oh, I know, Erda, I most certainly know,” Typhos growled. “And I’m going to make a promise that I know I will keep. I will kill the other son. I don’t know when. But I will. I am your only son. Not the offspring of some human.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Erda cried, the most emotional she had gotten.
“Watch me,” Typhos sneered. “And Monda’s going to face just as much death as the boy is.”
Trick is finding that boy. I can’t sense humans like I can sense Kastori.
But he’s got some Kastori blood in him.
As long as it’s not repressed.
You know killing him won’t really help.
No. It will. It has to!
“Why?!? Typhos, stop! Please! I am begging you! End the death, end the madness!”
“End it?” Typhos said with a sinister laugh. “OK, fine. I’ll end it.”
He retook his two steps forward and held the blade aloft.
“Right after I kill you.”
He swung his sword down.
***
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Thank You
Thank you for reading this story! It took me many months of hard edits, brutal reflection, and numerous drafts to get this story finished, and I truly appreciate that you read through all the way to the end.
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Bibliography
The Kastori Chronicles
Kastori Revelations (March 2016)
Kastori Devastations (May 2016)
Kastori Tribulations (July 2016)
Kastori Restorations (Coming Soon)
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2016 by Stephen Allan
Cover art copyright © 2016 by Mirela Barbu
Edited via EditorConnect.com
All rights reserved. Published by Sypha Entertainment, Inc.
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Kastori Devastations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 2) Page 27