Astrid flinched from the woman’s touch. “You’re mad.”
“If only,” she said. She beckoned her with a withered hand. “Come. I will show you.”
Astrid looked to Quibell. He snarled, baring his needle teeth. She would get no more help from him. “Lead the way.”
The woman nodded and glided to a small door behind the throne. Astrid found herself emerging into a darkened hall. The woman lit a stubby candle and led Astrid further down the passage. They floated past faded tapestries and piles of haphazard portraits of long dead elves.
“Here,” she said, blowing the dust from a large, tattered painting. “Here’s your mother.”
“You are mad,” said Astrid. She backed away from the old woman, ready to run.
“No! Look at her!”
Astrid’s eyes drifted to the elf’s face. She was beautiful, with long, pale hair that flowed down her shoulders. Two small girls with dark, smoky hair stood at her side. They were identical. “I don’t understand,” she said. Astrid felt dark memories stirring in her mind. “I don’t want to look…”
“You must! You have to remember!”
Astrid swayed on her feet. Whispers from long ago flooded her consciousness. She felt herself torn between reality and the confines of her mind—it now took the shape of a winding hall, lined with doors. She flew past them as the doors burst open. Fragments of memories erupted into her thoughts. She hurtled further down the hall toward a menacing, mangled door. It splintered as her mind crashed onto its surface.
Astrid pulled herself back into her waking mind and crashed onto the floor. Panting, she rose to her unsteady feet.
“…Mother?” She reached out her hand and traced the edges of the empty painted face. “But then… if I am her… who is—”
“—who is that? How fitting for you to forget your own sister.”
Astrid’s legs quaked. She turned and found herself under Anya’s heavy gaze.
“What’s happening to me?” The line between dreaming and waking was blurred to her. She almost expected to wake up in a cold sweat at any moment.
“Still only thinking about you, I see,” said Anya. “Away with you, hag!” She slapped the old woman in the head, sending her racing for a nearby door. Anya continued her chase until her wrist was caught by Astrid’s iron grip.
“Leave her be,” said Astrid, bringing Anya to her knees. “I have questions. And you have answers… how do I destroy the city?”
Anya laughed in Astrid’s face. “Destroy it? And kill everything our dear mother worked to preserve? How vulgar of you.”
Astrid clenched her teeth. “Then how do I stop the storm?”
Anya flashed a wicked smile. “Let me show you.”
***
Merrick had watched the iron cage descend onto the roof of the Governor’s villa from the shadows of the villa’s wall. He waited for the company to disperse from the roof before climbing a towering, gnarled tree to reach its tiled ledge. Ilsie had followed close behind him. He felt her burning stare bore into his back.
The journey in the lift to Alainia was filled with a dreaded silence.
“Ilsie—”
“—Don’t you dare speak to me!” Her voice was laced with venom.
He withdrew his words and focused on the wrathful storm clouds looming above them.
After several dragging moments, they finally reached the top of the wall. Merrick hefted open the cage’s top and climbed onto the stone wall. Ilsie climbed up the wall after him. She batted away his open hand. The scales on her arm nicked his flesh, a bitter reminder of their somber situation.
Merrick led her to the palace. He couldn’t help but marvel at the massive estates that littered the landscape of Alainia. How could so many people live like this?
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” Ilsie’s words shocked him.
“Yes… many years ago.” He kept his gaze forward, fixed on the palace.
“Was this the place that your vision led you to?”
“Yes,” he said. They crept into the shadows of the palace courtyard. Thunder rumbled below their feet. He heard Ilsie suck in her breath through clenched teeth.
Bloodied heads lined the path. Their hollow eyes watched from where they were perched high atop jagged iron spikes.
“Who would do such horrible things?” He felt her clutching at his arm.
“Demons live here,” said Merrick, his eyes lowered from the empty eyes of the dead.
“Demons?” Ilsie whispered the word, her voice icy with fear. “Is that what killed that woman? The one you saw in your vision?”
Merrick led her through the open doorway. Bloodied corpses littered the hall. Phooka, he thought as he picked his way over their cold bodies.
“No,” he said. His boots were sticky with blood. “She was killed by something far worse. Something I fear we may come face to face with before the day is done.”
They wandered the deserted halls for what seemed like hours. Merrick strained his mind to recall where he needed to go, but the memories evaded his grasp.
Ilsie, unable to control her fury any longer, stopped dead. “This is ridiculous. I’ll have no more of this madness!”
“We need to find Astrid!” Merrick dragged Ilsie along the hall. She kicked at him, howling in her disgust. The further down the hall they traveled, the more violent she became.
“I’ll not let you kill her, too! I’d rather live my life out as a monster than let you murder her!” He felt her teeth sink into his hand, slicing through his flesh.
“Damn you!” He threw her onto the cold stone. Ilsie, too overcome with grief, lay on the chill white and sobbed.
“What would Kateri think of you?” Her words, though gentle, ripped at his heart.
Merrick’s throat clenched as he fought down the pain. “Don’t you dare speak her name,” he said as he crumbled to the floor beside her.
She reached her hand out to his and clasped it in her shaky grip. “We don’t have to live like this anymore. The Grand Sage does not own us. We can go far away from here—you, me, Astrid and Ethen. We can be a family again.”
“She said she would make Kateri suffer,” he said, half to himself to justify his actions to his own consciousness. “I had a vision of her… I can’t live with myself knowing her soul is being tormented.”
“Oh, Merrick…” Ilsie rose to embrace him. “There must be another way.”
He could see her scales stabbing through her cloak. They had spread up her arm in a matter of hours. “Ilsie, I can’t—”
Merrick was knocked into the wall by a blast of blistering heat. The blazing air sucked the air from his lungs and left him gasping. He batted at the flames on his clothing. Looking back, he could see Ilsie reeling, her body engulfed in flames.
“ILSIE!” Her body grew still as he scrambled to his feet. He tore his cloak off and battled the inferno. Her body was charred, nothing but a blackened statue of his sister’s screaming face. “No—no!”
Merrick looked up through blurred eyes to see the fiery face of his son.
“You’re a monster,” he said, spitting the words at Luka.
“It’s in my blood. I come from a family of monsters,” Luka said as he spread his wings to fill the width of the hall. He cast the wicked black needle down where Merrick knelt. “You’re going to have to try harder than that to get rid of me.”
Merrick gazed one final time at his dear sister and covered her distorted face with his cloak. He rose to his feet, drawing his sword. “You will die for this.”
Luka smirked, beckoning him with an open palm. “Please, do try harder this time.”
Merrick charged him, a roar tearing at his lips. He slammed into Luka’s scorching body, sending both toppling out through the large, open window.
Luka laughed as he batted the sword from Merrick’s grasp. They spun, helpless as a feather. The world wove around Merrick’s head. He heard the wind catch Luka’s wings and jerk them upward.
M
errick was driven into the white stone of the palace. He could feel his ribs snap. Luka’s burning blue stare drove him deeper into the stone. “How could you leave me to die?” His voice cracked, splintering like Merrick’s bones. Luka lifted him up into the air and drove him back into the stone. “WHY DID YOU DO NOTHING?”
They fell backward into the open air, once again spiraling to the ground. They plummeted past the city walls and past the mossy earth of Alainia. Luka flew beneath the city. Merrick felt himself crash through thick glass and skid across cold, jagged metal.
Luka crouched above him, his claws digging into his flesh. “Answer me, damn you!” Merrick could hear the wrath in Luka’s voice. “ANSWER ME!”
Merrick’s head lolled to the side. A shadow stirred, drawing his attention away. “Luka,” he said, “Luka, you need to go…” Memories of a familiar shadow filled him with a chill fear.
“NO! You will answer me!” Luka’s rage boiled over, his words nothing but howls intermingled with sobs. “Why did you abandon me?”
“Yes,” an icy voice floated over them. “Tell him. Why did you abandon him?”
Luka’s gaze searched the darkness. “Who are you?”
“A friend,” said the voice. An elf with delicate, angular features stepped into the soft blue light of the room. “I want nothing more than to know the truth, just as you do.”
“No, Luka! Go!” Merrick’s words were garbled with the blood that pooled in his mouth.
“Tell your son why you cast him aside, Merrick.”
“I had no choice—” Merrick’s words were lost in Luka’s rage.
Luka raised a glinting clawed hand above his head, his muscles twitching and ready to strike. He hesitated, letting his deadly hand hang in midair.
“Kill him. He deserves no better.” The elf’s words were laced with the taint of dark magic. His eyes, hollow and lifeless, glimmered with glee in the blue glow.
Merrick’s blood poured from his mouth as he struggled to speak. “No… Luka…”
The elf leaned close to Luka, letting his thick black hair fall over his pale face. “KILL. HIM.” The words lingered in the air before driving Luka’s talons deep into Merrick’s chest.
Merrick felt himself slipping away. The elf’s wicked laugh echoed in his head while the world faded to black.
Kateri? He struggled to see her face but could not remember it. Another’s gaze drifted into his dying mind… Amaeya? His eyes fluttered open for a brief moment. Amaeya’s face hovered near his. Though it was heavy with age, he could recognize her honey eyes anywhere.
“Shh! Just lay still,” she said, wiping the blood from his face. “You’re safe now. They’ve gone.” Tears glistened at the corners of her lovely eyes. “I always knew you’d come back for me.”
Merrick choked on his bloodied sobs. If only it had been for you… Amaeya.
He felt his life slipping away, leaving only regrets to smolder in his dying mind.
Amaeya.
***
Anya struggled to keep her fury in check. The thought of Astrid following so close behind made her skin crawl. She had longed for the opportunity to make her sister suffer and now the chance was within her grasp.
“Where are we going?” The sound of Astrid’s voice was torture.
“Down to the Anvalin,” said Anya, trying her best to sound bored. “Not that you would know anything about that.”
“The what?”
Anya huffed. “You really are dense. Of course, so was mother and father,” she said as she picked her way down the darkened stairwell. “It’s the source of Alainia’s power.” She cast Astrid a gleeful look over her shoulder. “And I am the only one that can use it.”
They soon approached the chamber’s door. Anya pushed it open with a vicious shove. Anya beckoned Astrid to follow. The familiar blue warmth encased the iron room and glistened on the thick-paned windows.
Anya peered into the chamber, her expression instantly souring. “Amaeya! You useless thing, clean that mess up!”
Amaeya’s wrinkled face was damp with tears. “Go to Hell!” She clutched at the distorted body in her arms and sobbed. “Merrick, no,” she said, whimpering over the corpse. How disgusting. Anya swooped down upon the old woman, her arm raised above her head. She felt a rough grip around her neck, jolting her from her feet. Astrid soon had Anya pinned to the floor.
“AHH! Let me go!” She kicked at Astrid, trying desperately to squirm free.
Astrid held a knife to her throat. “Not until you learn to behave!”
She spat in Astrid’s face. “He’ll kill you, you know! He’ll rip your soul right out of your chest!” Anya’s laugh flooded the chamber.
“I do believe she is correct.” Luthen stepped out from behind the Anvalin, careful to avoid touching its wrathful blue surface. Anya smiled at him, eager for blood to be split.
She saw Astrid flinch at the sound of his voice.
“Let her go,” he said, flicking his hand to the side. Astrid jerked upright, releasing Anya from her stony grip. “And off you go.” This time, his commands were directed at Anya.
“NO! I WANT TO SEE HER DIE!” Anya wailed as she fought against his enchantment. Amaeya jerked upright and followed her out the door. Luthen’s chill laughter floated up behind her, teasing her as she fought against her own body. Fanger and Maggot waited for her at the top of the steps with open arms.
“NO!”
Chapter Seven
Astrid felt the blast of energy long after it had hit. She slouched against the buckling wall, stunned from the blow. Luthen was upon her within seconds, his fiery breath misting on her cheek.
“Tell me, girl, do you remember me?”
She glared up at him. “You murdered my mother…” The words escaped her before realizing the weight of their truth.
“Yes. Your mother. Your father,” he said as if trying to recall the contents of a meal. “Your mother’s death was particularly satisfying.”
“And now you wish to kill me as well?” Astrid struggled to rise to her feet.
“Oh no, my dear. I have something I want to give you. A gift for our reunion,” he said, placing a single finger on her heaving chest. It felt like an icicle against her skin, chilling its way down into her heart. A numbing cold weighed down upon her. She felt her soul being smothered inside her own body. Luthen turned Astrid’s head by her chin just enough to leer down at her through his empty black eyes.
“When I first met you, I sensed a strength inside you, a sort of spark that only comes along every once in a while. I lusted for that spark, knowing the potential of such power.” He breathed the wretched words onto her skin.
“Then take it and be done with me!”
He laughed with his face twisting into a snarl. “Look me in the eyes, Astrid. They are dark and soulless. Just like how yours will be. You’ve been tainted by my power. With your potential and my magic, you will bring destruction to the world. There’s no use resisting once it’s started racing through your blood. It’s an infection. There is no cure. There is no hope. You can’t fight the darkness,” he said, jerking her face closer to his.
Astrid stared past his twisted face. She watched Merrick’s blood mingle together with hers and seep through the rusting floor. Her thoughts wandered for a moment to memories of him that she had locked away. She was ripped away from them by the growing pain in her chest. Her heart felt like lead, dark and heavy with a sickly chill. The veins in her wrists darkened as if filled with ink.
“I’ll never become like you. I’d rather die.” Her voice was weak and distant, but her strength still burned deep within her blackening eyes.
Luthen scoffed at her reply and threw her face from his grasp. He paced back and forth before her like a captured predator daring his audience to stick their hands inside the cage. “Death has never been an obstacle for me. Do you honestly think it’ll stop me this time? Go ahead, die. It’ll make things so much easier for me. The more suffering the better.” He gnashed his tee
th in a gruesome grin, a laugh bubbling deep within his throat.
Her vision dimmed. The world around her caved in, crushing her battered body beneath its weight. She clung to an iron column nearby the pulsing Anvalin, allowing the blue stone’s warmth embrace her, protecting her from the approaching darkness—then an idea sparked deep within her mind.
The Anvalin. Maybe I could get close enough to use it...
“You’re right…” she gathered the will to stand. “There’s no use fighting you anymore, my strength is gone.” She swallowed hard, pulling herself to her unsteady feet. Please let this work. “Take me. My will is yours.”
He seemed taken aback and stared hard at her. A twisted smile of disbelief snaked its way across his face. “My, my, what an interesting turn of events.” Luthen leapt to where she stood clutching the cold iron. His breath burned at her nose, reeking of death.
“How do I know you’re not trying to trick me, you pretty little thing?”
“If I was trying to trick you would I do this?” Astrid grabbed him by the collar and pulled him toward her, pressing her lips against his. She tried hard not to gag when his long, rotting tongue shot into her mouth. She turned him toward the Anvalin, her arms lashed around his neck. His body pressed up against hers. She could almost hear his lustful thoughts echoing inside her head. They stumbled together, getting closer to the great blue stone. His wicked hands crept like spiders on her skin. Astrid reached out a shaky hand and slipped it onto the surface of the Anvalin, just as she had seen Anya do. She felt the power jolt through her body and into Luthen. He pulled away, convulsing and screeching, his face contorted like a murdered corpse.
Tingling warmth crept over her body while the stone blazed blue in rhythm with her heart, quickly getting brighter and brighter. She fell against it, trying to keep herself from crumpling onto the floor.
“A bitch after my own heart!” His icy gaze glared down at her. “Death it is then.”
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