by Devri Walls
“Kiora, stop,” Alcander nearly commanded.
“Don’t yell at her!” Emane snapped.
Drustan rolled his eyes. “I hope the end comes soon because if I have to deal with the three of you much longer, I am going to end it myself.”
Alcander swiveled to glare at Emane. “Can I fix this? Or would you like to baby her to death?”
Emane’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring. But instead of a snappy retort, he dropped next to Drustan without a word.
Alcander knelt in front of her. “I need you to look at me and calm down.” His voice was strong and firm. Kiora wiped her tears away, realizing how foolish she must look to him—bursting into tears at the slightest provocation. “A few Taveans have managed calling, but only with extensive mental practice. It is a skill most of us would not want—opening our minds is more of a violation than a gift. But for you, having already done it, you may be able to peel away the influence of my mind.”
“How?” she asked.
He looked uncomfortable and swallowed hard. “First you will have to find me.” Kiora frowned. “I was worried my mind would be an invasion on yours,” he explained. “I have tried to keep it to myself. But if you want to learn how to move it, you will have to feel it.”
“Do I have to be here for this?” Emane groaned.
Alcander turned again to look at him with undisguised distaste. “No, actually. It would be easier if you weren’t. There is another shelter just up there.” He pointed to the large, flat rock. “Drustan, take Emane.”
Drustan raised his eyebrow, but did not move.
“Come on, Drustan,” Emane said. “He’s not going to say please and if I am locked in this tiny space with him any longer, I might try to kill him.”
“Try would be accurate,” Alcander said.
Emane’s eyes narrowed. He walked straight at Alcander, who turned to face him. Kiora hurried to her feet, looking anxiously over Alcander’s shoulder, shaking her head vehemently.
Emane stopped, looking back and forth between them. “Come on, Drustan. Please,” he added. Drustan finally pushed himself to his feet and bubbled the two of them.
As soon as they were alone, Alcander asked, “Are you ready?”
“Is it going to hurt?”
“Everything hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Not everything.”
“You may want to get comfortable,” Alcander said gruffly, his eyes sliding off hers.
Stretched out on the ground, she closed her eyes. “All right, I’m ready. Now what?”
“Take a deep breath.”
She breathed in deeply and was slammed with a presence that was not her own. She gasped, her fingernails scraping against the rock.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said before the presence came again. It doubled and then tripled in strength. Kiora felt like she was being shoved to the back, drowned in her own head. Alcander’s mind was like a lumbering giant marching through her brain. There was immense strength there, and cold, hard logic. His mind contained layers upon layers—it was almost unfathomable to her.
“Alcander, you are drowning me.” Kiora could barely form the words; her back arched in pain.
“It’s not comfortable for me either.” As he said it, his mind made it clear to hers what he meant. There was nothing more personal and vulnerable than what he was allowing.
“What am I supposed to do?” Kiora grunted, flipping her head violently from side to side, trying to clear the heaviness.
“Push through it. You have to find your way out.”
She pushed her mind forward, trying to do as he asked. It was like swimming through memories made of molasses. She shoved through his memories, watching as she passed through them. Training with Lomay, Alcander’s childhood home, and then there was a room—a library. Lomay was there with Alcander. They were arguing about something.
“No!” Alcander yelled, mentally shoving her backwards. “Not that!”
She took a deep breath and pushed with all her might, hurtling through memories so fast, she couldn’t recognize them. Alcander groaned in pain as she did. A moment later, she slammed to a stop at a virtual wall in her mind.
“There it is.” His breath came raggedly. “The edge of my mind. You have to get through it.”
Kiora slammed into it again and again.
“Please!” he finally exclaimed. “Gently.”
“I can’t get through.”
“I know. I’m trying to let you through, but I feel like I’m being attacked. I can’t let it drop.”
Being at the edge of his mind was less oppressive, like she had managed to swim to the surface and was now bobbing on the top. Taking a breath, Kiora gently probed at the borders.
After an exhausting amount of time, Alcander said, “I’m sorry, Kiora, I can’t pull it down. I don’t know how to let you through.”
Kiora cracked one eye to look at him. He looked dreadful. He was crouched a little ways from her, his head drooping, his hair wet with sweat. His skin was pale, eyes hollow.
Ever so carefully, she got to her knees, cautious so as not to lose her place within his mind. Crawling across the rock, she made her way to him. He looked up at her. She had seen so many layers stripped away from Alcander over the past few days—each time, she thought she was seeing him, seeing behind the walls. But the truth was, there had always been another wall, another wall of protection and pain. Now his blue eyes were young and open and so very vulnerable. Her heart swelled, wanting to protect him.
Leaning her head in, she pressed her lips against his. She had intended a gentle kiss, but the feel of his lips took her breath away and she deepened the kiss as the magic flowed between them in blissful waves. As Alcander slid his fingers through her hair, Kiora felt the wall in her mind become pliant and loose. With one final effort, she peeled the wall back and then she was through. She gasped, falling against him in relief.
His chest was rising and falling heavily as if he had just run for miles. Gripping her arms, he gently pushed her up, his cheeks flushed. “Call Arturo. Ask him if he remembers where Lomay used to live. That is where we are going.”
Arturo? She sent out the call as loud as she could mentally manage it. Anxiously she waited, her eyes scanning the sky. Her hope was beginning to fade, but then his answer came.
Kiora? The answer was wrapped in relief, but was weak and sounded very far away.
Yes! Kiora grinned. Arturo, we need you.
Where are you? I lost your thread.
Alcander said to ask you if you know where Lomay used to live.
There was a long silence. By the sea?
Kiora looked to Alcander. “By the sea?” He nodded. Relief and excitement washed over her. Yes, meet us there.
It will take me two or three days.
I understand. Fly safe.
“It worked?”
“He said he could be there in two or three days. Where are you going?” Kiora asked as Alcander stood.
“To get Drustan and Emane. We need to leave now.”
“Wait. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Alcander paused, looking nervous, before lowering himself back to the ground.
“It’s about what Drustan said earlier, about not trying to avoid your destiny.”
“You would like to know if I agree?”
“I would.”
“What do you think?”
What did she think? She didn’t think she knew what was up or down anymore. Too many exceptions, visions, feelings. “The prophecies say I will save everyone. It feels like war with the Shadow is the only way this can end, but there has to be another way. In order to fight the Shadow, we would have to use everyone, expose everyone. No one would be safe.”
“Right.”
“I don’t think I am trying to avoid my destiny, but I can’t lead everyone to their death, Alcander. I just can’t. How can I save everyone if they all die in battle?” She sighed before brushing some dirt from his hair. The way his eyes s
hifted to her, half open, turned her insides to liquid. She blushed, putting her hand back on her knee. “You have always wanted to get to the Lights despite Lomay’s vision. Why?”
“Lomay told me once that to resign oneself to visions was foolishness.”
“Why would he say that?”
“Because sometimes things are not what they seem.”
Kiora snorted. “That vision in the cave didn’t leave much room for confusion.”
“Did it show you where the battle would take place? When? Who exactly was fighting? What if you are right? What if the Shadow is Jasmine? What if by getting the Lights back, we can diminish her power? Maybe the battle is fought after that. Maybe we can get others to join us before the battle. Visions are subjective, and they are always missing details. Trust yourself, Kiora, and don’t make choices based solely on a vision. They are meant to be guides—that is all.”
Excitement built within her. A hope, really, that maybe she could avoid the very thing she had been dreading more than anything: war. “Thank you.” She smiled.
Alcander ran a finger down her cheek. It left a trail of burning magic behind him. She held her breath, wanting another kiss, but he pulled back reluctantly. “I will get the others.”
She watched him go, knowing he was holding back. And why shouldn’t he? He had given her everything, and she had yet to make a choice. She ran her finger over the line down her cheek that tingled as if he were still there.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tavea
THEY HAD FLOWN FOR several hours before Alcander informed them they were coming up on Tavea. Kiora reached out anxiously for threads, trying to garner exactly what she was dealing with. She had seen pieces of the Shadow’s violent history in the Wings of Tavea and encountered small groups of the Shadow’s followers, but she had not truly seen the evil enemy—why the rebels hid in caves and islands.
As the upcoming threads began to slip through her, she shuddered. There were thousands. The number continued to increase, blurring together in a river of threads that came at her from all sides. It wasn’t long before she had to narrow her focus to save her senses.
The land grew greener beneath them. Lush, rolling hills stretched out, the trees few and far between. As they crested a large hill, Kiora gasped. Below them stood one of the most beautiful places she had ever seen. She recognized it almost immediately from Alcander’s thoughts—Tavea.
In the middle of the valley stood a castle. The majesty of it made the castle in Meros seem almost fraudulent. Its towers glittered like cut diamonds. Colored stones were spread in fantastic patterns and shapes throughout the outer walls.
The city around the castle was pristine. The streets were cobblestone and the houses were painted in bright and cheery colors—yellow, red, orange. The walls and doors had designs, mostly floral, painted across them. In the castle keep, rows and rows of Taveans stood in ranks, with more making their way through the streets. Their dark threads stood in stark contrast to the beauty of the setting.
“Drustan, can you take us down?” Kiora asked.
He landed on one of the many empty hillsides that surrounded Tavea.
“What is going on?” she asked.
Alcander’s lips were pressed into a thin line. “You have gained enough attention to be taken seriously. The fraudulent king is the Shadow’s first-in-command. The groups he sent after you before were scouting parties. Now he is raising an army.”
“Already?”
“You were merely a concern until you escaped the Shadow—three times. You are now a priority. Which means we all are.”
Kiora gritted her teeth. They had to work faster. She could only avoid a war if the Shadow didn’t launch an army against them first.
“Is this the only army?”
Alcander scoffed. “No. This is just made of those left in Tavea. Groups of the Shadow’s followers live everywhere. They will mobilize soon.”
“Do you know the king?” Emane asked, peering below them.
“You could say that. He’s my uncle.”
Emane whistled.
“How many Taveans are in his army?” Drustan questioned.
“I don’t know—thousands? It has been many years since Tavea fell. Without an accurate count, we aren’t sure how many have been lost and how many are stationed at other villages. He will gather what he needs from within Tavea itself and pick up more as they go—both Tavean and other species. He prefers to add Shifters to his ranks for their versatility.”
“But where will they go?” Emane asked. “They don’t know where the rebels are.”
“They have their suspicions. They probably would have wiped us out long ago, but without the Shadow’s help, raids became costly for them. It simply wasn’t worth it to hunt around, losing the hundreds that fell victim to Lomay’s creative magical traps, to get rid of such a small number of us.”
“What kind of traps?” Emane asked.
“They varied, depending on the location. There were many around the camp you stayed at in the canyon—strange sinkholes, crevices that looked solid until you stepped on them. The scouting party managed to circumvent them by coming in through the top of the canyon as they did, and even still, Lomay managed to take down a large number of them with his explosion. But if the Shadow is involved again, they will begin to ferret us out. To be honest, it shouldn’t take long.”
A tall, thin man wearing a crown atop his long, dark hair stepped out on the balcony that hung from the front of the castle. His presence spoke volumes. There were leaders who led because they were born for it, and there were others who led because they loved power. Everything about this man’s presence spoke to his singular love of power. He stood tall, his chin high—imperialistic.
At his appearance, the host of soldiers in the courtyard below him yelled out, “Hail!” In unison, they all sank to one knee, their heads bowed.
Alcander tensed as the man proudly raised a staff in the air. It glittered, throwing off bits of blue light in every direction. That must be Alcander’s staff.
“I thought it wouldn’t work for anyone but you,” Kiora said.
“It won’t,” Alcander said. “But that doesn’t stop him from carrying it as proof of his stolen title.” Grunting, he shifted with irritation. “We need to go.”
As they flew over the top of the castle, Kiora couldn’t help but turn to catch another look at its magnificence. The back of the castle was even more beautiful than the front, with ornate, half-moon-shaped balconies stretching out from each room. Some held fountains that bubbled happily in the sunlight. Others had flowering vines that wrapped in and around them, creeping their way up the walls. The vines were giving way to the chill in the air, the flowers drooping sadly, but they refused to submit to the change in seasons.
Beneath that, gardens stretched out behind the castle. Hedges large and small snaked around like a maze. Spots of remaining color between the hedges hinted at the spectacle the gardens must be during spring and summer. At the edge of the royal gardens stood one final hedge. Twice as tall as a man, it acted as a natural barrier between the royals and the houses that stood on the other side.
Within the gardens was a small stone cottage. It was ringed with garden beds with three paths making their way to it, and a huge, glittering orb perched on the peak of its roof. Although simple, its location and landscaping suggested it was something of great importance to the Taveans. She wanted to ask about it, but Alcander’s stiffness kept her question at bay.
Alcander didn’t relax until they were far enough away from Tavea that Kiora couldn’t feel the threads anymore. Not long after, they flew over more towns and villages. Tavea had left Kiora in awe because of its beauty and in fear of its accumulating army. But some of these villages they were flying over were even larger than Tavea, with more threads than ten villages the size of Meros. The king would be collecting from these villages as well. The thought of going to war with them was laughable—they were hopelessly outnumbered. She ran scenarios
in her mind, trying to think of something—anything—but she couldn’t. All she could see was complete and total destruction of the small handful of good that had managed to survive.
“So many species living together,” Drustan commented as they flew over the village. “That is surprising.”
“In the beginning,” Alcander said, “the Shadow worked slowly. It took those who followed it and relocated them to centralized locations, keeping them isolated from those who hadn’t turned. Many didn’t realize what was happening until these mixed villages grew so large that there was no attacking them.
“It was the first time anyone here had lived with other species—we had always lived with our own kind. The Taveans stayed in Tavea, the Shifters had their colonies, and so on. Now only a few places retain the old ways. Tavea is one of them”
Alcander had told her that the Shadow hadn’t been seen in hundreds of years until it resurfaced with her arrival. “Are they all still loyal to the Shadow?” Kiora asked.
“Absolutely loyal,” Alcander said gravely as they cleared another village. “One word from the Shadow, or my uncle, and they would take their own lives.”
“No one should have that much power,” Emane said from behind Kiora.
“When the Shadow is around, you lose your magic, leaving it the only source of power. Its followers fear it, and because of that fear, they would never admit anything but loyalty. The Shadow demands it.”
“What does the Shadow promise them for their loyalty?” Kiora asked, still trying to put things together.
“Just their lives.”
“And your uncle? What power does he hold?”
“He is the Shadow’s mouthpiece. Whatever he says is thought to be no different from that of the Shadow. Those who disobey are punished harshly. In the beginning, the Shadow appeared for more than one of my uncle’s punishments, carrying out his threats as if they were its own. The mere threat of the Shadow’s appearance is all that is necessary to keep everyone in line now. Those Taveans we encountered at the manor were there on orders from my uncle, as were those who had been sent to find you after you arrived.”