Unraveling

by Sara Ella

  Zane’s face is contorted, his mouth upside down.

  I don’t know whether to puke or scream. What kind of sick game is this? We have to get out of here before things get worse. We have to destroy the Void before the other Callings fail.

  “I’m afraid you’re next.” Zane gestures to the empty cell beside Ky’s.

  I glare at him. I’m about to transform into a butterfly right here and now, but it’ll have to wait until Zane is gone. If he knew I could flit over the coral with the hum of a tune, he’d probably put me in a much smaller cage. One I couldn’t fly out of.

  This is going to smart.

  Deep breath. Hold it. Go.

  My hands meet the poisonous cage. I’m up and over the wall, each move depleting my energy, my skin begging me to stop, stop, stop because oh my chronicles. Please, stop. No more. Let go.

  I collapse inside the cell. I’m on my knees. Stay awake. Don’t pass out.

  Ky hisses from his cell. Whether it’s inside my head or audible, I can’t tell. Our internal conversations are so natural now, the difference is indistinguishable. “The Verity, Em.” I can hardly hear him. “It protects you from certain elements. It should’ve shielded you against the poison.”

  Why didn’t it?

  Ky rolls his head to look at me through the small coral window connecting our caves. “I think . . .” He wheezes. “With each Calling that dies, you draw in strength, but you lose things too. As long as the Void lives, connected to the Verity by a Kiss of Infinity, it will drain the Verity. You have to fight it, Em. Don’t give in to the darkness. I had to learn after what Tiernan did. It was difficult, but it can be done. Do not allow evil to take over. Overcome it.”

  I draw in a sharp breath. I hurt. Everywhere. But my right arm burns more than any other body part. I look down, push up my sleeve.

  And there, spreading up my arm like a rotting disease, are the blackened veins of the Void.

  It’s a full hour before I’m strong enough to transform into my Mask. I stand in the corner of my cell and strip off my sweatshirt and jeans. I set Dimitri’s plastic-and-cord-wrapped journal aside, wad the jeans, and, using my sweatshirt like a knapsack, tie the sleeves together until it creates a nice fabric ball. Then I throw it and the journal over the wall of my cage, let my Mirror song flow, and turn. This Calling still works, but my butterfly is weak and it takes extreme endurance just to make it over the coral. Then I transform to a human and chuck the clothing wad over Ky’s cage wall and repeat my alteration into a butterfly. Once I’m beside Ky, who is thankfully sleeping, I change back and redress, double-checking to assure my Void arm is covered. I’d ask how it’s possible, but what does it matter? This is happening and I have no idea what to do to stop it.

  The Void has to end. It needs to end now.

  I kneel beside Ky, examine him from head to boot. The effects of the poison are receding, wearing off like a drug. Ky’s shallow breaths shudder his chest. His eyes twitch behind his lids. His mouth is parted. I’d hoped the Void coming upon me would lessen his burden, but his veins remain charred as ever, though thank the Verity the darkness hasn’t spread past his shoulder.

  I touch a finger to the indent above his lips, trace their outline. It’s rare to see him in such a relaxed state. He looks more like a boy than the man I know him to be. Innocent. Fragile.

  I want to stay here beside him, watch him sleep and breathe and live. I want to march up to the surface, find Joshua, and give him a piece of my mind. A few pieces, actually.

  But I’m starting to see what I want plays the understudy to the lead role I must act. So I repeat the undressing-transforming-redressing process, flitting to the next cage where Ebony and . . . Khloe share a cell.

  I’m so boiling now I might bubble over. Joshua said he’d take care of Khloe. What in the Reflections is wrong with him?

  The ground shakes as if in response to my quavering heart. An earthquake like the one in the Second? More Threshold water draining? We won’t know for sure until we reach the surface again, and we can’t do that unless we’re able to figure out some blasted way out of this twisted dungeon.

  I move toward my sisters. They’re huddled together, eyes closed, heads bent. Ebony has one arm wrapped around Khloe. She strokes her hair. The older’s lips move and I strain to hear. Is she singing? I’ve never heard her sing.

  It may not have the power to heal or command, but it’s beautiful. She lifts her head. Her eyes narrow but then she cracks a smile like the one we shared on deck earlier today. She shakes Khloe gently.

  Khloe’s eyelashes flutter. When her focus rises to me, she smiles too.

  I look over them both, taking Ebony’s and then Khloe’s hand in mine. Ebony resumes her song and I catch on, learning the simple lyrics in no time. Khloe’s head rests on Ebony’s shoulder. I scoot in beside my older sister. Our heads tilt and lean against one another as we sing the chorus once more. I’ve never heard this tune, but I like it. Reminds me of a lullaby. Sweet and soft and soothing.

  “Down by the river, along the dark path,

  The Void cannot find me; I hide from its wrath.

  Verity beside me, walk with me, don’t stray.

  And stay with me always ’til night becomes day.”

  As our voices rise, I ponder all that’s transpired. My coronation. Kuna’s death. Mom and baby Evan going into hiding. The Callings failing. The Thresholds draining. Loving Joshua. Hating Joshua. Feeling obligated to rid Ky of the Void. Finding Ky. Falling in . . .

  Holy Verity. “I love Ky.”

  “Duh,” Ebony says, her usual candor awakening. “Are you just now figuring this out?”

  I blink. Did I say the words aloud?

  Khloe beams at me but remains silent. I look from her to Ebony and back to her. “Don’t tell him, okay?”

  Ebony and Khloe exchange glances. It’s Khloe who says, “He already knows.”

  I inhale a deep breath. Nod. Leave them be as I move to the next cell, where Charley resides. I check on Gunner and then Flint after him. The final cell beside his is empty, as I expected. Tide is Countess Ambrose’s son. Of course she wouldn’t imprison him.

  When I am alone in the last cell, my thoughts take over. Ky already knows. Of course he does. I was confused for so long, but he never was.

  Never.

  What does this mean? Where do we go from here?

  The ground shakes again, rumbles, cracks. I’m thrown off balance. Fall. Smack my head on the hard, cold floor. I taste blood in my mouth. My ear throbs.

  The earthquake grows in intensity. I try to get up but fail. World tilts. Vision blurs. Loose rock and rubble fall from the walls and ceiling. The coral cages begin to break and crumble. I don’t have time to shift and escape the danger. But I don’t have to. A hand grabs mine and I’m drawn away from danger into the nearest cave.

  The world around us continues to fall and break and end. Ky’s embrace is steadfast and tight. I curl into him, my head tucked into his chest. After what seems like ages, the shaking dies. We’re breathing hard and fast. I look up into Ky’s eyes.

  He smiles. “I love you too.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Joshua

  I stare at my reflection. At what I am becoming. The Void continues to spread. Apart from El, it grows stronger. It won’t be long before it’s reached my heart. Soon it will be too much to hide with mere clothing. My love for her is deeper than ever, but each day she spends with Kyaphus is another her heart is led astray. Which is another day the Verity’s power over me weakens.

  I must not become like Jasyn Crowe. I refuse.

  El’s love for me is a dying flame. I did not aid matters by holding a sword to my brother’s throat, nor by allowing Gage to join me. But I needed his help to create the diversion. With Gage as my witness it was that much easier to get the countess on board with our story. If I could create fear, panic, and chaos among the Fourth’s residents, the rose would be a cinch to swipe. I did not imagine my plan would work out so deliciously.
Everything fell into place like the final touches on a carved frame.

  I kneeled before the countess. “We’ve come to warn you of the fugitive known as one Kyaphus ‘Ky’ Rhyen. He is the Void’s—”

  She held up a hand to silence me. “The man you speak of left two months ago. He retrieved his sister, left the payment promised by Jasyn Crowe for boarding the girl, and went on his way. He posed no threat to me or my people.”

  “You have been deceived, madam.” Gage stepped forward and knelt beside me.

  I was not taken aback by how seamlessly he donned his role as my companion. I was, however, unnerved by the fact that we were working as a unit. Am I on the opposing team? The lines have blurred. It’s difficult to decipher which way is left or right anymore. All I know is forward. Forward to separate the Void and the Verity. Forward to separate Kyaphus and El.

  “You accuse me of poor judgment?” Offense seeped from Ambrose’s tone.

  “No, ma’am,” I interceded, adrenaline coursing. “We only come as your humble servants to warn you. Perhaps we should alert the people—”

  She held up her hand once more. “It is interesting you arrive now, at such a time as this. I do not believe in coincidences.” She paced the platform in the center of her amphitheater-style courtroom. “Do you?”

  I pressed my lips. What was she getting at?

  “Kyaphus has sent word he will return shortly. Can you prove he is the Void’s vessel, as you claim?”

  “On my honor as a Guardian,” I said without pause, “I can.”

  Turning her back, she peered over one shoulder and added, “Let us hope, for your sake, you are not lying. I do not tolerate perjurers in my Reflection.”

  She dismissed us and we rose and bowed out, following one of her Guardians down the white marble halls to our temporary quarters. I contained my excitement until I was isolated. Kyaphus, returning here? It was perfect. His letter stated he’d wait for El in the Third, which meant she’d be with him. I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried. My brother would be trapped in one place, with nowhere to run. El would be delivered right to me. All I needed to do was retrieve the rose, supply it to Isabeau, and exchange it for the mirrorglass bottle. Then I’d return to the Fourth, acquire the final ingredient, and serve the Unbinding Elixir to El. She’d be unbound from my brother by week’s end.

  I turn to one side and gaze at my profile in the mirror, grinning as I mull over how well everything has gone so far. I have to admit, the Void’s not so bad. My muscles are more pronounced, my body built. The black veins could almost be a tattoo—

  No. I knock the mirror over and it crashes to the floor. I’m on the room’s opposite end in an instant, holding my pounding head in my hands.

  What is wrong with me? The Void is an unwelcome menace. Its effects are not something to be admired.

  Still . . .

  I force my thoughts to take a detour, don my long-sleeved shirt to cover my secret, and focus on the task at hand.

  Obtain Isabeau’s third and final gift. Find the rose.

  Whatever it takes.

  I am still unsure whether I have the countess convinced. She’s seen Ky’s arm, yet her expression exudes skepticism. At least the people are terrified and Ambrose is out smoothing the ruckus I created. The little girl El asked me to keep charge of—Khloe, apparently—turned out to be my brother’s adoptive sister, which means she couldn’t be trusted. I hated sending her with the other prisoners, but what choice did I have? I can’t take any chances, not even with a minor.

  Clothed and armed, I exit my chambers. Gage is keeping watch outside, ready to alert me at the first sign of the countess’s return. Inside, the palace is like a museum with its Greek architecture and grand paintings. When I turn a corner, the next hall hosts square pools and miniature bridges. Whoever designed this place housed a brilliant mind. What I’d give to create again. To be done with this saving-the-Reflections nonsense and do what I want for a change.

  I scratch the back of my head. Where did that come from? Of course I want to save the Reflections. For everyone. For El.

  But what about me?

  I shake my head as if to physically eject the selfishness from my brain. When this is over I may need a few days’ sleep to recover.

  I scan the hall. Turn down another. Guardians pass me at random, but no one questions me as I make my way around. Why would they? I’m their guest. The man who alerted them to the intruders and the Void. I can obviously be trusted.

  Morons, the lot of them.

  What’s happening to my mind?

  At the next corner I pause. A broad grin spreads. It’s too easy. Her most prized possession, displayed for all to see?

  The indoor garden is a sight to behold, more striking than any I’ve witnessed. Wisteria hangs from every balcony and column. Roses blossom in all shades of corals and auburns and golds. Parrots squawk and flap from perch to perch. Flamingos wade in the various lily ponds stationed throughout the naturally lit space.

  And at the center of it all sits a platform, and on the platform a pedestal, and on the pedestal a single blue rose the color of the night sky.

  One hand on the hilt of my sword, I creep forward. Caution has me aware of what lies in my peripheral vision, but hunger to obtain my prize and move on rushes my steps. This could be a trap. Yet not a single Guardian detains me.

  I must be a better thief than I believed. Self-satisfaction fills me. Won’t Mistress Isabeau be pleased—?

  My steps cease. What am I thinking? What am I doing? Did I call Isabeau mistress? Perhaps not aloud, but—

  I catch my reflection in the nearest pool and all blood drains from my skull. In the time it took for me to venture from my chambers to the garden, the Void spread. Its vines peek above my shirt collar now, threatening to choke my neck. I recoil from the wavy image, and it’s in this moment I see it. The more I justify my wrongful methods, the more I convince myself what I am doing is for the greater good, the more the Void and I become one.

  But my intentions are pure. How can the Void take over?

  I don’t have time to ponder the indications. The ground shakes and the garden begins to come apart around me. The flamingos go haywire, the parrots scream, and the pedestal at the center tips.

  That’s when I sprint for it. Trap or not, the rose must be taken. It’s the only way to obtain the mirrorglass bottle, which is the key to undoing El and Ky’s bond. Without the bottle, the second ingredient is useless.

  I leap onto the crumbling platform and snatch the rose just before it’s crushed by a chunk of ceiling. With the thorny stem between my teeth, I make haste for the nearest exit.

  Isabeau had better be grateful. My third and final gift is acquired. This rose had better be worth it.

  Of course it’s worth it.

  El is worth everything.

  THIRTY-SIX

  All at Once

  You know those moments in life that are pivotal and concrete, while at the same time surreal? Like, I’m here, this is happening, but I also question it.

  Is this happening?

  Is this real?

  “My sincerest apologies, Your Highness.” Countess Ambrose furnishes a slight bow of her head as she reaches to help me to my feet. She looks out of place among the settling dust and debris. An angel among wreckage. “You must understand my first priority is my people. I couldn’t have them threatened by anyone or anything.”

  I furrow my brows and nod but don’t speak. I’m unsure what to believe at this point. Is this woman to be trusted or another Mom would warn to be chary of?

  “Zane,” the countess says. “Please assist the other members of the crew.”

  The Guardian with kindness hidden behind his eyes scoots past us, picking through chunks of ceiling and cage. The task is nothing to his broad arms and legs.

  Ky rises beside me. Dusts himself off. His fingers twine easily with mine, as if this is the most natural thing in the Reflections.

  I squeeze his hand.
Hi, I think toward him.

  “Hi,” he thinks back, squeezing my hand in return.

  “If you will follow me.” The countess turns, her toga swishing. “I believe we have much to discuss.”

  We follow her out of the dungeons, the remainder of our crew falling into line behind us.

  Ky puts an arm around my shoulder, leans in to kiss my temple.

  Guess everything is out in the open now. No reason to hide anything anymore.

  I peek backward, release a sneeze I can’t continue to hold in. Then I breathe a sigh of relief when I see each one of us is accounted for.

  Gunner and Flint are a little worse for the wear, their faces and arms matted with blood. Clothing disheveled and dirtied. They actually look more like pirates now. The kind that never bathe.

  “You think you look much better?” Ky thinks.

  Oh, shut up.

  He gives an audible laugh.

  Cheeks lifted, I shake my head before looking over my shoulder once more.

  Charley walks alone, then behind her my sisters walk hand in hand, Ebony leading our youngest sibling like one might lead a lost child. Both have enough dust in their hair and on their faces, they could be ghosts. I reach up and wipe at my cheeks with my sweatshirt sleeve. When I pull it away, a layer of grime cakes the fabric. Please let the Fourth Reflection have decent hygiene facilities.

  Up and out of the Thatsou Catacombs we venture, but rather than returning us to the surface, the countess leads us through a door that opens to a long—and when I say long, I mean loooonnnngggg—set of stairs. They’re wide and deep, ornamented with the same green and gold stones on the steps curving through the Threshold. Natural light filters between cracks in the underground ceiling, causing the stones to wink and glisten. Sand coats the steps and the air is misted with salt. This entire Reflection smells like a day at the beach. The stairwell seems miles long, climbing up, up, up, plateauing, and then diving down, down, down. Down? How much deeper can we go?