Oriana's Eyes

  These children do not know their past, nor do they understand their present state. They have been separated by Odon to keep their races from mixing, to prevent more half-bloods and forestall competition. It’s ironic that my ancestors also wanted to keep the races separated. What they didn’t understand is the power available as they come together and embrace their differences. The power of the half-blood could have brought good if only they had accepted change. Instead they tried to rid themselves of this new race. In the end, it only caused their own demise and the enslavement of their children.

  “Oriana …” I look around, surprised at having heard my name spoken nearby. I realize I didn’t hear it through my ears, and I settle quickly hoping no one has seen my change in demeanor. It’s Dorian I heard speak within my mind somewhere nearby. I relax; he is all right, and he has made it to the University safely. I search the rows of seats but see no one familiar. He is well hidden too.

  My eye stops on one particular seat. Lenora is there, sitting beside her roommate, my replacement. I linger on her face, but it is vacant, empty. Lenora, soon we will be reunited. Soon you will remember me again. I know she cannot hear my thoughts, but the words comfort me anyway.

  I notice the many faces around me turn upward toward the center of the globe. I lift my own eyes to the opening above. For a moment the sun is too strong to see anything as it’s nearly at its peak in the sky. Then we are overshadowed by three figures, followed by an arc of several others. Odon is held between two of his Winglarions as they float downward, wings outstretched to their fullest extent. Behind them in perfect formation are the other winged men, Odon’s bodyguards most likely. The Winglarions place him on the platform beside me. He wears an assortment of white silks draped upon his torso. In addition, a long cape has been laid across his shoulders, held decorously by a smooth round stone, which clasps both ends together at his chest. However, I know these are not merely garments of vanity. Odon’s adornment will add to his power, allowing him to bring forth and control it.

  His eyes scan the filled seats. He glances in my direction, stopping my breath for added measure. Then finally his eyes turn upward. The sun has nearly reached midday, when it will be exactly overhead and centered in the ceiling’s opening. I regain my breath and turn my own attention upward. I realize he is waiting, patiently watching as the sun moves into position. I feel something within myself begin to change, some power, some transformation ready to be released inside. It rises up my feet and through my legs, reaching all the way to my torso. It is when I sense it in my neck that it halts. My scar becomes cold and shatters it into a million pieces. I shiver physically, unsure what has just happened.

  I follow Odon’s gaze once again to the opening, and the sun is sliding into its center. All around me I see the students begin to glow as the light of the sun intensifies inside the room. Odon closes his eyes, spreading his arms and concentrating. I attempt to yell, to jump to my feet trying to distract him, but of course, he is not letting me move or speak.

  All around me the purebloods are fading, their colors melding and becoming indistinct. It is difficult to see them from within the most concentrated point of sunlight. I search for Lenora, but she too is impossible to discern. My head whirls around trying to comprehend what is going on. In my final turn, when the light of the others has dimmed and the sun continues through the sky, I see him. Risen into the air and surrounded by a vibrant dome of golden light.

  Dorian floats above the crowd. His black hair whips upward as his body burns with an inner flame. I cover my eyes as pain shoots through them and then chance a second look. For a moment I can see him, and upon his back I distinguish translucent wings folded neatly behind him. His legs have been replaced by a long aquatic fin covered in shimmering scales. I gasp in surprise. Yet it seems as soon as I see him, the light explodes outward and when it completely dissipates, Dorian is himself again standing within an aisle on two feet. It leaves me to question whether I just imagined it.

  The other students soon attract my attention. The Winglets have sprouted arcs of bleached feathers, and they ascend from their seats, hovering just above the auditorium’s floor.

  I notice Odon has remained still, his eyes shut. He makes a movement with his hands, his lips moving silently, and the Winglets, now Winglarions, fly across the dome to where the Finlets sit. I notice Lenora among them. She looks beautiful with the currents brushing back her hair and her wings lifted behind her. For a moment I wish to join them, I flex my wings outward, attempting to get to my feet. I arc them upward, feeling suddenly as though I have been flying all my life. But I remain seated and glance backward to find the air empty, my body unburdened by any new appendages. I have no wings? I am not a Winglarion? No, I realize, I am not, I can never be, Odon has made me an Odonian. It did not occur to me that they are pureblood as I am, and they do not have wings. I wish to scream, to cry with rage, but Odon restrains me from that as well. Instead I remain still, tearing at myself from within.

  I watch longingly as the Winglarions fly to the Finlets who are changed as well. Their legs once laid separately, have now become one fin of iridescent scales, large and powerful. They now appear completely out of place on land, unable to move from their seats. Yet the curve of their green lower half possesses a beauty I have never seen before, and I wonder what agility they must display in their true environment within the ocean.

  To my surprise, the Winglarions swoop down, plucking the Finlarions from their seats and propelling them upward. I wish to call out as Lenora takes to the air following the others through the hole in the ceiling. I watch as the distance broadens between us until she disappears through the opening and is lost into the sky.

  Odon’s eyes open to watch the last of the students leave through the ceiling. He relaxes for a moment to scan the empty seats. Or is he searching them? I look around and notice Dorian has gone.

  “Come out, half-blood. I know you’re here. It’s time to finish this.” Odon raises his hand, and the Winglarion men who brought him here take to the air, circling the room from above.

  “I’m right here, Odon.” Dorian steps into the aisle, his stern gaze upon Odon. I have never seen him so full of anger. His hands tremble. I look closely at him. He has changed. Squinting through the glare of the sun’s rays I notice the power that entwines itself around his limbs. He has transformed.

  “Good,” Odon mutters beneath his breath.

  Dorian’s face softens as he notices me.

  “Glad to see her?” Odon remarks, turning to me. I see a minor shift in his vision. The Winglarions hurtle toward Dorian. They reveal gleaming weapons poised in their outstretched hands. Dorian does not seem to notice. His focus is centered on Odon and me. His eyes narrow with rage at the way Odon walks over to stroke my hair.

  I am powerless, unable to warn Dorian of the peril diving toward him. I can’t even move away from Odon’s caress.

  “Don’t touch her!” Then as Dorian runs toward the central stage and down the walkway, a Winglarion is struck down, his wings crumpling around him as he plummets to the ground. An arrow protrudes from his shoulder.

  Tor emerges from behind a seat, bow in hand and another arrow already strung. He is not the only one. Finley stands from among another row of seats. Azura, appears as well, followed by Dugan and Jagger. Yet I notice as more of them appear, more Winglarions come to triple the numbers. They string their bows, striking down Odon’s soldiers with grim accuracy. Finley gives a call, and more part-bloods burst through the double doors to join in the battle.

  Odon’s laugh rises above the swell of fighting. “Is this what you’ve brought to defeat me?” He chuckles again raising his hand triumphantly and balling it into a fist. In a second the others freeze in place, halted in action. Azura is fitting her bow with an arrow. Tor raises an arm to block an advancing Winglarion. They are like so many statues, chiseled into a never-ending battle. “This will be easier than I thought.” Odon releases his Winglarions, having them stand, long, thin-b
laded weapons raised to bring down each of the helpless part-bloods.

  I plead in my head, “Please, don’t let them die. Please, Dorian, do something!”

  Dorian eyes the scene, studying it closely. Beads of sweat form on his brow. He must act quickly. He must think of something fast. I swallow, a lump forming at the back of my throat.

  The Winglarion’s weapons waver before striking downward together in one smooth movement. Dorian’s fingers snap closed, and he cries, “NOOO!” The part-bloods come to life, some dodging the attack, others unable to react quickly enough. I see Jagger take the blow in his leg as he rolls sideways to avoid a second.

  Dorian has found a way to deflect Odon’s hold on the others. I sense him in my own mind, trying to push aside the coldness. But Odon is too close, and his hold much stronger on me than on them. Dorian continues toward us. His eyes focus in and out as he tries to concentrate on the minds of the others as well as the scene before him. He is not as well trained as Odon. He pauses to concentrate again, his fingers reaching for his temples and his eyes closing. He takes another step forward. The next is more difficult. Then I realize he is fighting Odon. I turn to look at Odon, who is still beside me, one hand resting on my hair. I can feel his power flowing through that palm. His other hand extends toward Dorian. The corners of his lips turn upward.

  Dorian stops, unable to take another step, his eyes clamped shut, the sweat now dripping down his jaw. I watch helplessly as he struggles against Odon’s will. There is a moment where he gasps for air, trying to force himself to breathe. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a streak of white. Odon has sent a Winglarion after Dorian. He plunges toward him, lifting his weapon above his head to drive straight through Dorian’s torso. I try to scream, wanting to fling myself at him, even merely close my eyes. But I am unable to do anything.

  Beside him a figure appears. Her bow is raised as she reaches for an arrow. Azura uses her body as a shield, searching desperately for an arrow that does not exist. When she realizes there is nothing to grasp, she stands tall, tensing her muscles to stop them from trembling. Dorian stands beside her, unaware of her presence as he fights to hold back Odon.

  I watch as the Winglarion approaches, unmoved by the scene below, weapon willing to run through anything in its path. At last my breath escapes me, and I scream, a piercing note that somehow cuts through Odon’s hold for one moment.

  The Winglarion’s blade thrusts into the body, stabbing through to the other side, releasing the life in a deep red liquid that stains the white floor. Liam sinks to the ground, the weapon still protruding from his chest as his eyes darken. He had thrown himself in front of Azura, protecting her at the last second from the Winglarion’s sword.

  Dorian comes to life at the sound of my voice. Knocking back the Winglarion with a wave of his hand, he continues toward Odon and me. There is a look upon his face that is frightening to witness.

  Behind him, Azura rests Liam’s head against her thigh, sobbing into his limp form.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Inside I am ripping apart with sorrow, wishing I had been able to help in some way but still powerless to do so. Liam had loved Azura enough to give his life to save her. Now he will never share that love with her.

  Dorian reaches the platform, glaring up at Odon with a full-fledged hatred. “Your life ends now Odon,” he says, beginning to climb the steps, “Your reign of damage is over. I will see to that myself!”

  Odon pulls me up, using me as a shield against Dorian. His hand grips my neck, but it is within that I am being strangled.

  “Let her go, Odon!” Dorian shouts, there are tears trembling in his eyes and his body shakes in the grip of hostility.

  “It’s too late! She’s already mine!” He pulls me backward to the end of the platform. I open my mouth, trying to draw in breath but powerless to do so. My lungs burn and writhe in pain. I wish to strike him, beat at his hold with my fists, but I still cannot move. Tears escape the corners of my eyes, running down my cheeks and flooding my open mouth.

  Dorian watches me, I see the hurt in his eyes; the torture at seeing me struggle. Around us the fight continues. The part-bloods hold back the onslaught of Odon’s Winglarions. Somewhere Azura holds Liam in her arms, somewhere Jagger limps to Dugan’s aid. Somewhere Malise and Aaron wait staring at the sky wondering if today will bring freedom. Odon reaches the edge of the platform, Dorian now cornering him. “Release her now!”

  “I think not!” Odon spits. From behind us Winglarions appear. Two take Odon’s arms and lift him upward. My breath returns as the last grabs my limp form and moves to take me away. “You’ve failed again!! Not only have you allowed me to increase my army, but you’ve handed me your precious pureblood.” The Winglarions fly us toward the opening as Odon calls down, his voice gaining strength as our distance increases, “Foolish child, you are even weaker than the other! You didn’t even have the courage to try to kill me!”

  The Winglarions hover in midair, wings beating simultaneously. Odon grows quiet, but I cannot lift my head to see what he has planned. I notice that our height begins to decrease, the Winglarion descending to the central platform below.

  The auditorium has grown quiet, the part-bloods and Winglarions no longer fighting. Instead they look to Dorian, their faces blank, as if awaiting orders. The scene makes my skin crawl as the Winglarions touch down on the smooth white floor and place me on my feet. I feel Dorian’s warmth enveloping me, and I am able to stand. When I am released, I run to his side, grabbing hold of his arm and turning to face Odon in triumph.

  The Winglarions hold him fast, but I see that Odon is incapable of moving on his own anyway.

  “Thought you were going to get away?” Dorian says with a sneer. “Did you think I’d let you take Oriana?” He smirks, stepping toward Odon and freeing his arm from my grasp. I find myself rooted to the floor, but it is not Odon who holds my body in place.

  Dorian paces in front of Odon’s face; although Dorian is not as wide in girth, they share the same height. Odon blinks silently, the struggle in his eyes apparent. He is trying to wrench free of Dorian’s grasp. It’s not just Odon that Dorian holds prisoner. I look around at the many faces, each maintaining an expressionless gaze. Dorian has taken over the entire room, including myself.

  I turn my attention back to Dorian, where Odon’s face is slowly turning blue from lack of air. With a gesture from Dorian, the Winglarions step backward, allowing Odon to fall to his knees his fingers raking at his throat.

  I move to stop him, to get Dorian’s attention. He must not kill Odon. But it is Dorian now who stops me. I have become lost in the minds of the others he is keeping in place. I speak his name, trying to nudge at him from within. “Dorian.”

  He stops for a moment, has he heard me? Odon reels on the ground, his life fading fast.

  “Dorian!” I shout louder in my mind, desperately fighting his hold.

  He faces me, but I barely recognize him. His expression scares me. I can see he is consumed with power and revenge. When our eyes meet, I see him flicker within: the Dorian I know, the one who would not hold his friends as prisoners.

  I search my mind now that I have his attention I must speak something that will bring him back. If I do not act quickly he may be lost forever, burned up by the force that now flows strongly within him.

  “Dorian, please, you’ve done enough. It’s okay now.” I hear my voice in my head speak warmly, beckoning him to me. “Come with me, we can be together now.”

  He takes a step toward me, his face losing its anger as we make eye contact. I see Odon’s tense body begin to relax.

  “You must not kill Odon,” I begin, but that is all wrong. The moment I mention Odon’s name Dorian turns away from me, and I see Odon grasping at his neck once again. Dorian has always reacted against me when I’ve brought up Odon before. I have told him he must not seek revenge, and he reacted defensively. I search my brain. How can I make him realize what I have come to know?

  The
words come to me all at once in perfect clarity. Narena’s words. If ever you should stray, your only way back is through the eyes of the one who truly loves you. I repeat the sentence in my mind, focusing on Dorian. I alter my struggle against him and instead allow his hold to completely enter my mind. He is pulled inward, his power too strong for him to withhold without practice. In an instant he is behind my eyes, the place where Odon had seen my memories through my mind, and he is feeling my emotions and remembering all my past experiences. Dorian sees himself through my eyes, he sees who he has become. The hatred in his eyes, the uncontrollable anger leading him to murder, to become the evil he has striven to defeat.

  I sense him pull back in horror at his own image. His powers retreat to his mind, and I watch as the others blink into awareness. Even the Winglarions open their eyes with a new vision, experiencing the freedom of conscious thought.

  Dorian backs away as Odon gets to his feet, eyes bloodshot and face a scarlet red. “You … you didn’t kill me … you coward!!” Odon spasms, a look of panic on his face as he stumbles backward. His mind reaches out for mine, and I can feel him probing for an opening, but Dorian is beside me, and when his hand touches mine, Odon’s power dissipates completely from my senses.

  “What are we to do with him?” Tor stands beside Dorian on the platform watching the pitiful sight of Odon in a disordered outrage.

  “He will not be a threat to us any longer,” Dorian affirms.

  “How can you be certain?” Finley joins us, looking down with distaste at the broken man.

  “I can hold back his attacks. I can’t explain it any more than that,” Dorian explains.

  I am suddenly struck with a memory, and I release Dorian’s hand and rush down the platform steps to where Liam has fallen. Azura lies beside him, grasping his hand as Liam holds on to his last moments in life.