She was immensely powerful, but it was nowhere near a fair fight. The cart started to take a turn, and Shiloh clutched the bars, trying to will it back in the other direction.
As she left Shiloh's view, the sphere of water burst, and Stella's body collapsed to the ground, suddenly tiny and delicate once again. One of the original mages walked up to her unconscious body carefully. He summoned a spear of ice, and Shiloh clenched her eyes shut tightly as he stabbed it through her chest. She opened her eyes just in time to see the mage reach down to Stella’s lifeless body and pluck her brooch right off of her jacket. He gazed down at it briefly before attaching it to himself and adjusted it carefully, looking proud of himself.
“Stella!” Shiloh screamed. “Do. Not. Touch. Her!” But she was gone, and the mage walked away carelessly.
Flames abruptly leapt from her smoldering body, forming into a fiery orb above her, hesitating—as if to say goodbye. But then, with a sudden snap, the orb raced away—disappearing into the streets of the city.
Shiloh stretched her arms out of the cage as far as they could go but getting nowhere. She clawed at the door to no avail. She finally rested her forehead against the cage in defeat, the metal bars clasped in her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She screamed at no one--this time, a low angry shout of a scream that didn't sound like it could be coming out of her body at all.
Lost in grief and in anger, for Stella and for Bellamy, she had only just noticed that they were nearing the city gate. Just as they were about to exit, the caravan halted abruptly, almost tossing her to the side of the cage. She could hardly process what was happening before she saw the two soldiers slumped to the ground at the sides of the horse in front. Arrows penetrated their backs, and she knew immediately that her father was not far. She felt a flood of emotion—both relief and anger. Part of her was so glad to be saved. The other part of her; angry that her father had once again stepped in and distraught.
She had thought that if she could just give in and let herself be taken, then the destruction of the city would stop. That the killings would stop. After all, she was the problem, wasn’t she? She didn’t know which side of her felt stronger.
A scarily accurate rain of arrows flew down from the sky above. Each arrow hit its mark exactly. Not one single arrow strayed into the cages that held the prisoners.
Sagittarius came up to her at a surprising speed, bow still drawn and ready for a fight. When he saw they were alone, he wrenched open the cage, his strength giving him no need for a key, and enveloped her in a hug. This wasn’t something she’d ever expect from him—he seemed cool and aloof, hiding his caring behind a thick veil of pragmatism, especially during battle. Still, he held her tight, and she felt herself embracing him back. This was what she had been waiting for, and too bad it had to come at such a dire time as this.
“Let’s go,” he said as he stepped back. No other words seemed necessary. He yanked the doors of the other two cages open effortlessly, and the people flowed out in a rush. She hoped desperately that they all would make it to safety. When beckoned, she followed Sagittarius in silence, at first, fearing that they would be attacked at any moment. He took her along abandoned streets and alleyways, staying out of sight and far away from any shouts or sounds of battle. She imagined that if they were spotted, she may be recognized again if not just by being in the presence of Sagittarius, who was wholly unmistakable.
They passed by a group of castle guards who ushered them past quickly and without words. Seeing them gave her hope that the city was fighting back—and winning. But she collapsed into worry once again when she saw bodies strewn in the streets.
***
Bellamy had made it out of that church, despite the thought that he was done for. Shiloh had saved his life—at the risk of her own, and now he had to find a way to save hers.
He slowly traversed the battle-torn streets, his back constantly to the walls, always on guard. He was on his way to the castle, looking for help. For Sagittarius, and for Leo, perhaps. If he could just lead them to Shiloh, they would be able to easily fight off the small horde that had taken her.
Hearing loud voices, he slipped into an alleyway and silently waited for them to pass. Two enemy soldiers walked by slowly, weapons drawn, but chatting as if they weren’t in the middle of a battle. Bellamy felt a small fury ignite within him and felt the need to put them in their place but pushed it to the side quickly while reminding himself that he had a mission to complete. He hurried onward—hoping that he wasn’t already too late.
Soon, he saw the castle in the distance. It was the only place he knew to look, as doubtful as it were that Sagittarius was still inside amidst all the terror. He hoped that at the very least, he would find Leo, or perhaps more guards would to the job. Forgetting his caution, he walked out into the open in a rush to find out.
This, however, proved to be a mistake almost immediately. Something hard and cold hit the side of his head, nearly knocking him off of his feet. Shards of ice laid on the ground around him, and he ducked just barely in time to avoid the next. He pulled out daggers from his boots—his last pair, eyes quickly finding the mage that was coming out of a nearby building, hands raised, ready to cast more spells his way, and then he did, in fast succession of one another. Bellamy, though, was fast—faster than the mage and his spells, and he danced between attacks easily, getting closer and closer each time.
Eventually, he was close enough to see a nervousness in the mage’s eyes, and he felt a small smile of triumph on his face. But the smile faded in an instant as Bellamy’s eyes fell onto the mage’s robes—pinned neatly on his breast, a brooch.
He stopped where he was, suddenly fearing much more than any damage the spells could do to him. “Where did you get that?” he demanded, not giving the fear power enough to enter his voice. The mage placed a hand on his chest, his thumb and his index finger coming together to grip the brooch, “Oh, this? Just a little prize… Don’t worry, I’m sure it wasn’t your Grandma’s.”
The mage laughed, a hollow and malicious laugh, his lips pulled tightly away from his barred teeth. He looked like a monster, and he was.
All at once, Bellamy was blinded with rage, and he launched, but the mage was already prepared for the attack.
A spell encased Bellamy in a giant shard of ice, stopping him in midair. He was frozen—chilled to the bone and unable to move. He couldn’t breathe, and he felt his lungs burn, begging for oxygen. This was not how he wanted to die.
And then, without warning, he was blinded by light. A giant orb of fire smashed into the ice imprisonment, freeing him and dropping him to the ground. He landed on his feet in a squat and gasped for air desperately. But then he heard her voice, and his breath was taken away from him once again, only this time, in awe.
‘Bellamy, my dear…’ The voice was loud and impeccable in his head. ‘I’m so sorry to be leaving you so soon… I need you to know that I am so, so proud of you, my love. This is my last parting gift, and I know you will use it well. You have my blessing now. I love you.’
Time froze. Bellamy was instantly transported back to Stella’s bakery—only he was a child again, maybe six years old. Stella stood at the counter across from him where he was perched on a stool like a bird. “Why do you have fire powers, Stelly?” he asked innocently. “Will I get some?”
A much younger Stella smiled lovingly at him. “My powers were a blessing, passed down by many, many generations of ifrits—both good and bad—from a very long time ago.” She reached down and caressed his chin. “Maybe one day you’ll get the blessing, too.” Young Bellamy giggled excitedly and jumped off his stool, pretending to conjure balls of flame and throw them at the wall. Stella watched on, her eyes lit up with joy at the young boy in front of her.
He was transported back to reality with a flash. His body burned with flames that didn’t harm him but rather infused him with Stella’s ifrit powers. The mage stood wide-eyed and shocked, realization coming over him and washing away
any confidence he had. Bellamy picked up the small daggers he had dropped when the spell hit him, and they instantaneously lengthened and burst into flames. Suddenly, he was all fire—his hair, his eyes, and his weapons—just like Stella had intended.
The mage had stopped laughing and pulled his arms up to defend himself, trying to summon a spell, but Bellamy was fast—much faster than he. Bellamy’s blade of fire slid through his throat without any resistance, and the mage dropped to the ground, quickly being surrounded in a pool of his own blood. The smell of singed skin quickly rose to meet Bellamy’s nose, but he didn’t react. With darkness in his eyes, Bellamy reached down and plucked the brooch from his robes, wiped it clean, and tucked it away carefully into his pocket.
Chapter Nine
Shiloh and Sagittarius had made it back to the castle steps, so close to safety—at least until any soldiers decided to storm the castle, so to speak. Shiloh stopped her father, a sudden admiration and guilt overwhelming her.
“Wait. I just need to say something,” she said. He paused, allowing her to speak. “I want to apologize.”
“For what?” he said inquisitively.
“For everything. I’m sorry I blamed you for my… my mother’s death. I’m sorry about all the things I said. I know it was hard for you, too.”
Sagittarius shook his head and gently placed his palm on his daughter’s cheek, cradling her face in is hand. “You are everything I’d imagined and more,” he said, a small smile gracing his lips. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”
Looking up at him, she nodded gently. This was the first time she’d really studied his face up close. Sure, she had listened to him read and to him preach in his Yoda-like ways, but this was different. He had kind, wise eyes—ones that matched the deep blue of her own. Though still, his face bore worry lines, the signs of a life lived.
A loud crash startled them out of their moment, and Sagittarius ushered her up the stairs without any further words.
Atop the steps, peeking outside of the massive wooden doors stood Leo, beckoning them to come faster. He looked like he’d been in battle as well, with an arm soaked in red blood and a large gash through his white linen shirt.
Shiloh hiked her way up the steps, not wanting to look over the chaos that she knew was lurking below the castle. Sagittarius lagged behind, keeping an eye out for anyone that may have been following the pair.
When they reached Leo, he looked solemn but pleased to see them. But only for a moment, because his face quickly turned to horror as his gaze lingered on something behind them. They both turned, but even in those short seconds, it was too late. An arrow was shot. It ripped through the air and left a trail of darkness behind it.
In some sort of feat of super speed, Sagittarius launched himself between the arrow and his Shiloh. It struck him right through the chest, and he collapsed onto the ground immediately.
This was no ordinary arrow.
Shiloh followed him down, clutching her father in her arms in disbelief. He gritted his teeth and almost hissed at her, “Go. Now.”
She looked up to see those distinctive black eyes. She would never forget them for as long as she lived. That man that would happily kill everyone she knew and loved if he had the chance, and probably just for his own sick enjoyment.
“No!” She shouted at him. Unbelievable fury flowed through her veins. She had never met someone so entitled and so irredeemable. So evil.
A mighty roar penetrated the thick air so close that she could hardly process it. From behind her, a golden blur leaped at the man who was ill prepared to deal with such a mass of muscle and power—and teeth. It was Leo. Shiloh selfishly enjoyed the terror those black eyes held, just before the lion obscured her view, and she knew he was being ripped to pieces.
She turned her focus back to her father, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was slowed. Blood spilled onto the ground. The arrow sticking out of his chest was pitch black, and the color was spreading to his skin, as if it were dyeing it. His skin was black around the wound and spreading rapidly across his chest. Some kind of dark magic had been placed on that arrow, and now it was engulfing her father. He was dying.
“No, please,” she begged him, wishing he had any sort of control over if he lived or died, “I can’t do this without you, please—just wake up. I need you.” But the darkness only spread further and further upon his skin, and his eyes remained closed.
Still in lion form, Leo sauntered back up to meet her, leaving bloody paw prints behind him. Even as a lion, his eyes seemed full of grief. He lay silently next to Sagittarius, resting his head on his body—keeping him warm and protected. But both Leo and Shiloh could tell that there was nothing to be done.
Shiloh stayed with her father, long after Leo had left and long after her father had stopped breathing. She had held onto his hand and refused to let go. She thought maybe if she hoped hard enough, or wanted it badly enough, he wouldn’t be gone. She thought that if whatever powers that be just let him come back, she’d do whatever the prophecy told her she should do. She thought about how unfair it was—that now, she’d had two parents who’d felt they needed to sacrifice their lives for her, and she hadn’t even gotten the chance to properly know them. None of it was fair.
Leo returned shortly after, and he knelt beside her, placing a large hand over hers and her father’s. “Love,” he whispered timidly, which was unusual for Leo—“I think it’s time you get some rest. We must move the body for a proper funeral.”
“No.”
“Shiloh—“
“I. Said. No,” she growled more firmly this time, never once taking her eyes off of her father’s body. “I am not ready.”
“Okay.” Leo sat beside her silently, trying to be a comforting presence, but also to grieve his good friend’s passing in kind. After some time, the sun rose above the horizon and greeted the pair, silent and still.
***
In just a couple of hours, the city had come together in grief—both for Sagittarius and for lost loved ones on their own. The usual buzz of the city was quiet, and the streets seemed almost desolate as the people licked their wounds, both physical and emotional. A select few worked on buildings that had been hit with fires and stray magic, trying to fix the damage and to keep their minds occupied. No matter what they had chosen to do, the people were mourning.
Shortly after Shiloh felt that she was able to separate herself from her father’s body, she was escorted by two guards down to a small, rocky beach on the side of a large, dark lake. A woman met her and introduced herself as Gaia. She reminded Shiloh of her human mother, with a kind face and saddened eyes. Her blonde hair was tied up into many intricate braids, and she wrung her hands nervously in front of her chest. Gaia gave her many condolences but seemed to not know how to react to the daughter of Sagittarius. She explained that many of the city’s people would like to attend the funeral and hoped that it would be okay with Shiloh.
Behind her, a massive pyre loomed over the pair of women. Shiloh knew immediately that her father’s body would be burned on that pyre but was suddenly numb to the loss. She felt as if she were having an out of body experience—just watching herself be a part of this world from the sky. None of it felt real.
She assured Gaia that it was more than okay to have a large funeral where everyone was invited. In fact, she preferred it. It even felt strange to her that she was being asked for permission at all—many of these people probably knew her father much better than she did, despite being his daughter. Still, Gaia thanked her profusely, apologized again, and moved on.
The crowd began to filter down to the beach from the city—anyone who had felt inspired by Sagittarius came to see him off. Some fought back tears, others were solemn, but it was very clear that there was a lot of respect for Sagittarius on this day. On the edge of the lake, mermaids and mermen sat on rocks and watched silently. Nymphs came from the forests, and dryads joined them. Even the normally boisterous dwarves stood quietly on the beac
h. Nobody spoke.
Leo arrived, and shortly after ,lit the kindling. It wasn’t long before the fire consumed the massive structure, and his body with it. Smoke billowed up into the sky, a signal of a soul moving on.
As the sun was beginning to lower over the mountains and most of the fire had turned to coals, the light began to dim. Leo stepped up in front of what was left, his fingers tightly intertwined and fidgety in front of his chest. He looked stressed, and saddened, but still strong and noble despite everything.
“My people. We have experienced great loss, of this there is no doubt. But I must ask you to be strong in this trying time. We have been attacked, yes, and this may not be the last of it, but we will not take this lying down. Please, mourn your losses, but I implore you—be prepared. We will rebuild stronger than ever. And next time, we will not be taken by surprise. We have been through worse, and we will not be taken down by this petty evil. Not now, not ever.”
One of the guards who had presumably moved Sagittarius’ body to the beach where he would have his funeral, silently placed her father’s bow into Shiloh’s hands. She thought that maybe it should’ve burned with her father, but then decided that maybe he would’ve wanted her to have it.
The crowd began to filter out—and her and only a few stragglers in the distance remained on the beach. The funeral was over, but the grief remained.
She stood alone, staring at the bow in her hands. It was clearly worn down where his hand had held it so many times, but sturdy still. She imagined it was well-loved and well taken care of. The bow was massive—fitting for her father, but as she stared down at it, it began to change. The bow was shrinking. She almost wanted to toss it away, worried that her touch had somehow made the bow decide to disintegrate all on its own. But soon, it stopped. The bow, clearly with some sort of magic within, had shrunk down to her size perfectly. It fit in her hands like it was made for her. She wondered if Sagittarius would have wanted her to use it. Part of her did want to keep it, in memory, at least—but she knew that it deserved better than to be kept with no use, and she had no use for it.
Destined (Prophecy of the Stars Book 1) Page 9