Oriana's Eyes

  “You can’t leave, Liam! This is all my fault … it was me you were trying to protect …” Azura’s face is broken. So crippling is the sight that I nearly break down before even reaching her. I swallow any sobs and straighten my back. I must be strong for her.

  I kneel beside her and Liam as he mutters her name. “Azura …”

  “I’m here, Liam.”

  She does not notice me beside her until I place my hand on her shoulder. I look down at Liam. His wound cuts directly through his vitals. His life will not last much longer.

  “Azura, I’ve wanted to tell you …”

  “I know, Liam, I’ve always known,” she whimpers, her hand reaching to caress his face. Her tears splatter upon his wound thick with blood.

  “I need to tell you, I love you …” He gasps for air as the blood fills his lungs further.

  Azura shakes, her weeping becoming uncontrollable so that she is almost unable to answer. “I love you too.” Liam’s face becomes peaceful as he looks upon her one last time before closing his eyes forever. It is then that Azura turns to me, wrapping her arms around me and releasing her sorrow into my shoulder. I remain silent, knowing my own tears will only make it harder for her.

  I feel warmth beside me, and I turn to see Dorian and the others standing over us. Dugan holds Jagger up, but the others seem to have only minor injuries.

  We begin to gather others who have departed during battle, pureblood and part-blood alike, working alongside the Winglarions, who appear to remain in a state of confusion. Do they remember when they were younger? Their families or old homes? Or have they always been under Odon’s control and know nothing else.

  One of the younger Winglarions approaches Dorian cautiously. Together we turn awaiting the words that he is having difficult producing.

  “Where are we to go?” Other Winglarions join behind him, supporting his courage for speaking what had been on all their minds.

  Dorian’s mouth opens for a moment before any sound comes out. “I … I don’t know. Wherever you please, you are free now.”

  “But,” the Winglarion begins.

  “We do not know what to do, where to stay,” a second finishes for him.

  My thoughts move to Lenora and the other students who left not long ago. Are they facing the same situation?

  “Your place is in the sky,” Tor says soothingly, “as Winglarions. I believe you will feel most suited there.”

  The Winglarions look around at their fallen comrades. Some turn to glance at Odon, who remains upon the platform, muttering to himself.

  “We will provide them with a proper burial,” Tor continues and then jabs a thumb in Odon’s direction. “And you do not have to worry about him anymore. You’re safe as long as you remain in these lands. Outside them, Dorian cannot provide protection for you from others like him.”

  The Winglarions look toward Dorian, further uncertainty upon their faces, “How will we know,” the first one asks, “if we leave?”

  Dorian’s expression takes on a certainty. “You will know.” It is then that I feel his presence, not that of an icy grip, but the shield of his power in the air surrounding us. I wonder if the others feel it as I do.

  The Winglarions nod, still unsure whether to believe him and proving that they do not feel what I can. Their faces turn upward, and they rise into the air with the first stroke of powerful wings. Wings that I long to possess as well. I find Dorian’s hand resting in mine, and a soothing energy flows over me. I smile slyly at him, “Get out of my head!” I say mentally.

  He gives me a grin, his eyes sparking as he answers me without speaking, “You’re the one who let me in.” I realize he’s right, when I had forced him to see through my eyes, I had opened my mind to him. Now his presence will forever remain.

  “Tor! We have found the remaining students and professors, but none of the Odonians.” A part-blood boy leads the stray students toward us. There are so many young faces, not just of the eldest grades but those below. Their numbers stretch backward up the aisle and past the doorway, probably stretching even farther.

  Glancing at Tor, I can see he is overwhelmed, unsure how to accommodate so many. I notice the professors moving toward us, meandering around the frightened children. One of them I recognize as a teacher from long ago. He does not recognize me as he approaches, a part-blood female following close behind him.

  “What has happened?” he asks. I can tell he is struggling with memories that do not seem real. Dorian and I keep our distance as Tor boldly explains the occurrences of recent years. The look on the faces of those listening tells that his words are reaffirming hazy visions of their past. When their attention is drawn to Odon, Tor’s words take on a stronger clarity.

  It is evening before arrangements can be made for those of the University. The remaining adults are left in charge until further organization can be put into effect. Tor makes the final decision to stay behind, where he will be able to assist the professors in their task. There are so many children, and so much has changed in such a short time. Several part-bloods from the Great Oak volunteer to remain with Tor and help the others settle into their newfound freedom. The rest of us depart for the Great Oak, eager to be home once again and share the good news with friends left behind.

  The sun’s red eye watches us as we carry those lost to us from the University. I watch the sky, hoping to see any of the purebloods returning, hoping Lenora might be among them, but the sky is empty. Behind us, Odon is being led by two of our strongest part-bloods. Although Dorian insists he will remain harmless, Finley is adamant about the extra precaution. I notice that Buck is not one of the two.

  “Where is Buck?” I ask, walking beside Dorian.

  He glances at me and then turns to the forest ahead of us. “Buck was lost at the Great Oak when Odon’s men came.”

  My stomach sinks, “Then Odon did attack?” I’ve been hoping that my communication with Dorian prevented any damage. I was wrong.

  “Were there others?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Yes, some other part-bloods, but no one very young. It might’ve been worse if I hadn’t spoken to you.” He forces a smile, trying to hide how much Odon’s actions had hurt him.

  “Dorian, it was all my fault. Odon found the way to the Great Oak by using my memories! If I hadn’t …”

  Dorian nods grimly, “I suspected as much, but we can’t think of our mistakes. It wasn’t your fault.” His second attempt at a smile is more genuine. “Think of how many you have saved today.”

  I nod, deciding to let those in the past rest and focus on the future instead. There are so many freed now who need us—our guidance and care. Today is merely the beginning of our hard work. It’s going to take everyone’s effort to find order in a now chaotic world. I think of the other half-blood realms where many more children are still enslaved. Our triumph today is small compared to what we are about to face. I glance at Dorian. He was so powerful today, standing against Odon, the tyrant I once thought indestructible. But Dorian is just one, and there are other half-bloods out there, including some that may be stronger than even Odon.

  I decide to push the thoughts aside. Tonight we will honor those lost. Tonight we will celebrate the freedom of many and the prospect of many more.

  We reach the Great Oak as the moon appears in the night sky, dancing among its many glittering children. Our celebration is bittersweet as we share our story and speak of those that will not return. As I look around me at the many faces of the living, I see the hope resurging that had once escaped me.

  That night, before I fall into bed beside Dorian, I feel the weight of something from within my robes. Reaching inside the hidden pocket I find the burden, Narena’s journal. With a sigh I place it upon my dresser, now finding the needed ease to reach sleep.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  I wake to find Dorian at the entrance to my cottage speaking softly to someone on the outside. He gives a nod and turns to face me, letting the flap close behind him.

/>   “There is a meeting to attend,” he announces, “Tor has returned to discuss Odon.”

  When we arrived at the Great Oak last night, Odon was placed in a well-guarded structure upon one of the platforms. It was announced that the next day his fate would be decided.

  Today is that day. I slip out of bed and slide on my sandals. This meeting is sure to be a long one, as there will be many alternating opinions of what will become of the tyrant. My emotions wish him only death, but my head knows it would be a reckless act.

  Dorian and I grab our cloaks; the morning is cold, and the cloud cover seems to forebode a chilling day. They sweep behind us as we rush along the platform. A wind howls overhead, pushing us backward, keeping us from our destination. My own uneasiness holds me back as well. I’ll be glad when the event is over and we can concentrate on burying our loved ones. Dorian’s arm helps me as I fight against the wind, clutching my hood to keep it from flying backward.

  By the time we reach the meeting hall, it is a welcome sight. We slip in, the whistling wind heralding our arrival. As we are taking our seats, the last of the others enter, and last of all Azura. She hides her swollen face beneath the shadows of her hood. Liam’s death is still fresh on all our minds. Finley, Dugan, and Jagger take their seats, I notice Weasel is not among them. I bite my lip in distress. He must still be mourning Buck. There are other part-bloods of our generation here as well, sitting against the wall, where stools have been brought to accommodate them. This decision must involve many.

  I take my seat next to Dorian, uncomfortable with the eerie silence. I realize that the others stare at the far corner at the head of the room, where a lone figure sits. Beside him are two part-bloods, their hands wrapped around each of his arms. Odon’s face is covered in shadow as he hangs his head. His wrists have been tied with twine as well as his ankles. Around his shoulders, a black cloak has been draped. I give my head a slight shake, thinking to myself, “Those types of bindings will not keep his power at bay.” It is in fact Dorian who is keeping him from entering all our minds and taking over. He is only as powerful as those who follow him. Alone, he is as mortal as the rest of us.

  Tor takes his place at the head of the room, and there is a shift of attention onto his tall form. “Let us begin,” he states curtly. “We are here to discuss the fate of this man.” Tor gestures to Odon as though he were just another being and not the once powerful dictator who caused uncountable deaths within his lifetime.

  Finley is the first to stand and speak out. “I understand my words might sound heinous, but I think it only wise to execute this man. If he is left alive, we risk the past repeating itself.” There are murmurs of agreement from among the crowd.

  “He does not deserve such an easy escape,” Azura mutters from within her cape. I watch her with compassion. She is truly suffering.

  I am surprised when Dorian speaks next. “I understand your hatred as much as anyone here, maybe more …” he murmurs to himself and then raises his voice again. “But if we were to kill Odon, it would be murder. This man is not a threat to us now. He is unarmed and unable to cause more destruction. We cannot kill him in this manner; we would be no better than he.”

  “Doesn’t he deserve the same fate he would deal another?” Finley continues, certain that his decision is the right one. If I did not know him so well, I would think he was a cruel young man. Yet I know why he reacts this way. Finley was alive when the others died. He watched his friends fall beneath Odon’s hand. His own family was lost to this man. Now that we have him in our grasp, we would have ourselves to blame if he ever harmed another again.

  The hum of the rooms settles again as Tor stands to speak. “Finley, we cannot kill this man.” He raises a palm to his friend of many years. “Dorian is right, look at his state. He is unable to defend himself; killing him would be cold-blooded murder. Could you live with yourself after something like that?”

  Finley sighs, as if he can see no other way. “I could live with myself if it was him.”

  I hear the others around us muttering. There is a variety of opinions among them. This meeting will last for a time longer if I do not think of something. There must be some way to satisfy all parties.

  “What if we could place Odon where he will be safe, yet no longer a danger to anyone else?” I suggest.

  “We cannot guard this man for the rest of his life,” Tor answers. “His natural death will not come for several years, are we to watch over him until then?”

  I pause for a moment, trying to come up with something worth our time. It is Azura who answers.

  “The caves,” she says softly, and then louder: “The caves!” She stands, her hood falling back to reveal her reddened eyes and lips. “We can put Odon in a cell of the caves. If we supply him with food and water occasionally, then he could live out his life and never be a burden to anyone.” Of course, Azura is likely to think of the plan. She herself spent time within its darkness. Odon is well deserving of such a place.

  “He will be a safe distance, yet still within the lands.” Tor slowly nods his head as he works out the construct of the decision. “Dorian’s powers will reach him as necessary. We would merely have to monitor him every few months. Can you agree with this, Finn?”

  Finley looks from Tor to Azura. All other eyes are on him. This new idea appears suitable. For Azura to see her captor sent to live out his life in the place where she was meant to live out hers is more than she could have imagined. I understand her desire to see him thrown away for all eternity. Finley needs no more convincing. He nods.

  Tor calls for a vote among the crowd, but it is clear that Azura’s suggestion has won them over. It is agreed that Odon will be brought to live out the rest of his days within his own dark prison. He will be given food and water when needed, but no more accommodations will be made.

  The guards pull Odon to his feet and guide him through the meeting hall’s door. We follow him out. I turn to find Dorian, his face focusing on Odon with unusual pressure. “Dorian … what is it …?”

  A yell erupts among those around us. I turn to see Odon tear away from the guards. Tor reaches out for him but Odon dodges backward avoiding his grasp. Then he flings himself backward, over the edge of the platform, descending into the shadows below at a breathtaking speed. Tor and Finley are the first to rush to the edge, peering into the abyss below.

  “We have to see if he is still alive down there!” Finley shouts, starting to head down the ladder.

  “He is already dead,” Dorian calls to Finley with a bitter confidence.

  “There is no way he could’ve survived that fall,” Tor adds in the same tone of certainty.

  “We can’t take that chance. We would never be definitely sure …” Finley starts to protest.

  “I am positive.” Dorian states again, raising his voice for all to hear. “I felt his mind blink shut. He is in blackness now.”

  There are whispers among the crowd as they slowly move down the platform and out of sight. Finley and Tor speak quietly as they follow.

  Odon had chosen to use the last of his energy to kill himself. He knew he would be driven mad in a cell within his own caves. He had chosen an easy escape.

  “Odon won in the end, didn’t he?” Azura stands beside me, the wind pulling at the curls of her hair.

  “No, he didn’t.” I take her hand. It is so cold. “We are alive and free. Odon pays for what he’s done, no matter where he is. It will torment him for eternity.”

  “You really believe that?” Azura asks. Her tone says she is willing it to be true.

  “I do.” We walk together, Dorian, Azura, and I, heading to the lowest platform where the others will be preparing to bury those gone. Odon will not be mourned. Now the wind compels us downward, willing us toward the final good-byes.

  When we arrive on the lower platform before the longest ladder, we meet up with Piper and Lily. Toby, Malise, and Aaron are there as well. They welcome us, holding back tears. Word of Odon’s demise has alrea
dy spread, but thoughts are elsewhere.

  In a long procession, we descend the ladder, the rhythm of our steps as one. I try to remain strong, knowing how delicate Azura is in this moment. I wipe at tears that refuse to recognize my stubborn will. Azura touches the ground beneath me, and I lick my lips before facing her. Dorian is behind me, offering soothing thoughts, and I am able to stand straight.

  The others seek the graves of their dearest friends. Azura seeks a group of part-bloods burying Liam. His youthful form is wrapped in clean rough cloth. Azura grips my hand tightly, lifting her hood over her head and retreating slightly from the grave. When he is fully covered, his resting place beneath the shade of the Great Oak’s protective branches, Azura kneels to place a single yellow flower upon the ground. In its simplicity I see its beauty, its delicate petals representing life and love. A thought occurs to me, and I leave Azura’s side to dash into the forest.

  I run along the familiar stream whose simple tune tells of a continuing circle of death and rebirth. I splash through it at its shallowest point, the cold water reminding me of pain that comes and goes. Past these rows of bushes, I reach the clearing where the fruit tree stands. Some things have not changed. I climb upon its root that forms a seat and reach into its branches to retrieve a ripened fruit. I hurry back to the others, cradling the fruit in my arm like a newborn infant.

  When I’ve reached Azura and Dorian, who have been joined by Tor, they look at me quizzically. I kneel between Azura and Dorian and place the fruit beside Azura’s flower. We all stand.

  Azura clasps my wrist for a moment. “Thank you,” she says before heading away.

  One day the fruit will bring new life, a tree like its mother. Liam will live through the soil, through the tree above him, living forever through the endless life of this world. Dorian takes my hand as I begin to shed tears. I look up into his eyes, trying to console myself that with death comes life, with enslavement comes freedom. But when I see that Dorian sheds tears silently as well, I feel no shame in releasing my own upon his shoulder.