“I am sorry for the way your relationship unfolded with your parents, Typhos. But Cyrus and I are not like that.”
“No!” he exclaimed loudly in her head. “No. I have no choice. I have to kill you and your brother. At best, I will banish you across the universe, to places I have not even sensed yet. But more likely than not, the only way I see forward is to kill you.”
“Why? To get rid of the pain? And what happens if you still feel pain, brother?”
The lack of response told Celeste he had no plan beyond killing them. She shuddered at a life full of misery even after accomplishing one’s goals. That is why I must help him. Because if he is left to his own devices—
“Such a thing will not happen.”
“Typhos, please.”
Celeste’s voice had become pleading and as emotional as Typhos’.
“I am sorry, Celeste, but my reminders of Aida and Adanus are constant. You two are the most egregious examples. I will not know peace until you two are dead. I wish I had found you before my mind became so consumed with rage, but it is too late. I will go to Tapuya, I will take its power, and I will destroy you both.”
“Typhos! Don’t—”
“Goodbye, Celeste.”
He cut off the communication, but not before Celeste noted the emotion and grief in his voice as he said farewell to her. She opened her eyes and found herself back in the dimly-lit bedroom. She slowly rose and walked toward the warehouse. She went past the fighters being constructed and came to the outside, where she gazed upon the afternoon sky. She felt a fear that Typhos’ mind had gone too far and that he could not be changed.
But if that were true, he would not be the emotional brother that he was. He would’ve shouted at me, cursed at me, and been more bloodthirsty in his comments. His childhood broke him, but we can still put the pieces back together.
The two of us are of the same blood. The only difference is our father lived and loved us. We never wondered why Aida abandoned us until we were adults. We are of the same family, but with two impossibly different circumstances.
We can overcome those differences.
Celeste swore at that moment not to kill Typhos unless she would die otherwise. If he was as truthful in his weakened state as she suspected, then he could yet rise to the role of savior for the Kastori—and Monda.
24
Cyrus dropped into his room for just a couple of minutes before returning to the warehouse to work. Still guilt-ridden over the limited contributions he could provide, he wanted to do whatever he could to build ships. He shouldered heavy equipment, ran machines, and guided Kastori on the floor to spots where they could provide the most benefit.
After several hours, though, he became tired and removed himself from duty. He went back to his room and tried to sleep, but the trauma of the battles of the past raged in his head.
Falling from the sky. Almost losing Celeste. Nearly getting shot at point-blank range by Novus. All of these… I couldn’t do much of anything. Only the power of Celeste or, in one case, Erda prevented the worst possible outcome.
He tossed in his bed, kicking off his blankets in frustration and then putting them back on in misguided attempts to sleep. Frustration turned to anger. He eventually gave up, going outside to calm himself. He took a walk to one of the high-rising rooms in the warehouse, able to overlook everything. Down below, he saw Crystil at one of the stations, working by herself. She looked up and saw him, and the two locked eyes. Cyrus saw curiosity but also unusual nervousness from the commander. He smiled warmly at her. She turned to someone and waved them over. She then looked up, smiled, and walked toward the stairs.
A minute later, Cyrus heard her footsteps. She came into view, tired with bags under her eyes, but a beautiful smile that seemed unusually warm for Crystil.
She hasn’t looked so pretty in so long.
“It never stops here,” she said as she sauntered over to him. He noticed the way her hips swayed and how her eyes seemed to attach to his, and how her smile seemed… flirtatious.
“I wouldn’t expect it to, not with you in charge,” Cyrus said. “I know when you’re in charge, things always happen the way you want them to.”
Crystil chuckled and brushed back her hair, exactly the response Cyrus had hoped for.
“Although you do look like you could use a break,” he said. “You need some downtime from working in the warehouse.”
“I know,” Crystil admitted, her voice weaker than normal. “But I’m the leader of this group, and I have to lead by example. And the person setting the example isn’t about to go to sleep when she thinks the war is gonna come to a head in just a few days.”
Cyrus grimaced in surprise, but when he thought about it, he knew she was right. It’s a race to Tapuya. After that, positions are set, and the battle gets waged, and whoever wins…
“It’s weird to think about,” Cyrus said, surprised to hear emotion in his voice. “The three of us, how we started out. Even before Anatolus. We fought a war that we were destined to lose, and then we join who we thought was the enemy, only to realize they are our friend. How far things have come and how much has changed.”
“Like what?” Crystil said, now standing next to Cyrus, their bodies as close as possible without actually touching.
Cyrus laughed as a stalling mechanism, but the eyes of Crystil would not let him escape the question.
“I think… you and I, for example,” he said. “I think it’s safe to say we hated each other’s guts.”
Crystil shook her head forcefully.
“I didn’t hate you. I hated your actions. But underneath your silly ways, there was a person I cared about.”
Then her eyes narrowed and smile widened.
“I guess I know how you felt about me, huh?”
She then laughed as Cyrus struggled to explain his position. Crystil put her hand on his arm, comforting him, and did not remove it when he spoke.
“I don’t mean literally,” he said, his eyes darting to her arm. “I just meant where we started, we avoided each other as often as we could. Then I saved you, then you saved us, then you saved me, and now… we’re…”
He blushed, his mind racing, struggling to come up with the proper term to capture what he felt. There isn’t a word. Sometimes, you just have to see it all to understand what something is. This is one of those spots.
He took her arm and squeezed Crystil tight, and she collapsed into him. Both of her arms wrapped up Cyrus’ back as his stomach somersaulted. He listened to her tired, steady breathing while she pressed her head against his chest. His heartbeat soared far above his baseline as the two held each other in silence. He smelled her hair, which somehow had not gotten soaked in oil and smoke from all of the construction.
“You know you’re doing a hell of a job here,” Cyrus said after several seconds of silence. “We probably wouldn’t have even built a single ship without you.”
Crystil laughed, remaining on the chest of Cyrus. She slowly leaned back, her arms remaining wrapped around Cyrus.
“Sometimes I wonder what’s the point of it all,” she said, her voice shaky. “I know the truth of the matter. I know that what we do on Monda doesn’t matter. No matter how awesome our ships are, if Typhos comes back here at full strength, we’re all dead. I know that ultimately, all of this war, all of this ‘human versus magicologist’ fight comes down to a fight amongst siblings, you and Celeste versus Typhos. But I have to lie to myself. I have to tell myself that if I stay busy, then I can make a difference. But I know… I know…”
To Cyrus’ shock, a tear fell down Crystil’s cheek. Before she could wipe it away, he held her back in. She sobbed into his chest, and he gently stroked her hair, calming her as he let her have an outpouring of emotions.
“I feel guilty that I put the burden on you and Celeste, but I feel like I don’t have a choice. I had to fight from a distance a couple weeks ago, and I’ll have to do the same here.”
Cyrus didn’t know what
to say. She was right. She could not fight Typhos. Only he and Celeste could. And if we’re honest, it’ll be up to Celeste. I just support. I probably can’t win that fight.
“You’re assuming that will be the only place we battle,” Cyrus finally said. “We’re planning this not to give the people a cause. We’re not building ships to keep people busy. We’re doing it because we know it’ll be a two-front war. The personal front, and the global front. Celeste and I have our battle with Typhos, but even if we kill him, he’ll still have his army there.”
“Right, but if we beat the army and you don’t…”
“What did you tell me way back in the early days of Anatolus?” Cyrus said as Crystil, wiping away the last of her tears, took a couple of steps back to breathe. “Focus on the mission. Your mission is to protect Monda. Your mission isn’t to worry about the implications of your battle. You knew that when we came to Anatolus, expecting three people, with no apparent food and water, and a giant monster in the sky, to continue humanity was a fool’s errand. But you focused on the mission. And, well, I’d say mission almost accomplished.”
Crystil gave a short laugh as she sniffled. She let out a long sigh and turned back to Cyrus with reddened, moist eyes. Eyes I’ve been hoping to see that way at some point. Just to see the humanity in her. And it’s finally uninhibitedly there.
“Thanks, Cyrus,” she said. “I guess I don’t have to punch you anymore.”
Cyrus let out a loud laugh as he lifted his clothing to reveal the spot he’d gotten drilled.
“Well, no marks, but I think you should pat it down and make it better.”
“Oh,” Crystil said, but as Cyrus expected, she went over and gently patted the side of his stomach. It sent a rush of warm nerves firing off in him, and he gulped as she looked up into his eyes.
“You know what’s funny?” she said, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not supposed to be up here. It’s only supposed to be the person on shift for watching the warehouse.”
“Oh, no, am I being a bad boy?” Cyrus said, meaning to be funny but instead increasing the rush of excitement in him.
“Oh, quite,” Crystil said as her hand slid around to Cyrus’ back. “And you know what happens to bad boys? They get punished.”
“Anything but!” Cyrus mockingly cried out as Crystil put her other hand on his back. “What will my punishment be?”
“Hmm, well, typically, for a bad boy like you, I’d have to do what I did on Omega One.”
Cyrus’ eyes widened as she pushed him against the wall and pressed her body on his.
“But you’re not a boy. You’re a man.”
She leaned in. Her eyes had become fiery and focused, but instead of a mission, they locked in on a different kind of target.
Him.
“Take your punishment.”
Uh uh.
I’m not taking anything.
I’m giving it.
Cyrus pulled her in close, his hands going low on her back, as he closed his eyes, leaned in, and kissed Crystil.
25
Cyrus’ entire body rushed with excited energy with his cathartic and long-overdue kiss with the woman he’d long desired. Their kiss, though an explosive moment of pent-up energy over a six-month period, was passionate and gentle, a result of both of their exhaustion and nerves.
Their tender display lasted several seconds, each one savoring the taste of the other’s lips. Neither wanted to open their eyes to the battle they had to prepare for, and each simply wanted to spend time in the other’s arms.
But finally, after their lips locked one last time, Crystil pulled back, her forehead resting on Cyrus’ as she opened her eyes and looked into his.
“That actually just happened,” Cyrus said with a laugh. “Wow. Wow.”
“Shhh,” Crystil said. “Just let the moment be.”
The two remained close together and resumed kissing once more. Though not as long as the first kiss, it had just as much emotional release and tenderness behind it. Cyrus pulled back this time and embraced Crystil tightly.
“I was wondering when this moment would come,” Cyrus said.
“Oh yeah?” Crystil said, a smirk on her face. “At least for me, after you rescued us and I saw your sister… the thoughts came. I didn’t allow myself to indulge them, and was never really sure I would get the chance.”
“Oh I always knew,” Cyrus said with a laugh.
Crystil playfully punched him, her fist barely touching him but making the point all the same. The two broke out into tension-relieving laughter.
“No, but really,” Crystil finally said.
“It was about the same time,” Cyrus said. “You started to open up some. I saw you as a woman and not just my commander. And…”
“Here we are?”
“Here we are.”
A loud clang echoed in the warehouse, and both of them looked down. A group of people rushed over to someone who had dropped some metal. The person appeared unhurt, but Crystil sighed.
“Duties of a commander,” she said with a tinge of regret. “I need to go. Keep this on the hush, OK?”
“I—”
“Cyrus, please,” she said. “When this battle is over, we can be open. But I don’t want people thinking I’m distracted.”
“They’ll just have to watch you think of me,” he said, causing Crystil to blush. “You know that she’s going to know immediately.”
“Celeste?”
Cyrus nodded.
“Power of magic. And a sister’s intuition. I still haven’t figured out how to beat it.”
“Here’s a hint: you never will,” Crystil said with a laugh. “But no one else, OK?”
Cyrus sighed but nodded in agreement.
“I do need to go. Come see me before you leave in the morning,” Crystil said.
Cyrus felt a rush of sadness. With him and Celeste about to go to Tapuya, followed by a near certain fight with Typhos after, it was unlikely that he would get to see Crystil alone before the fight with his brother. If anything, this moment was goodbye as much as it was a culmination of their feelings.
“You’re not too bad for a guy who refuses to follow the rules.”
“You know that’s what attracted you to me,” Cyrus said with a wink.
“Only when there’s no war,” Crystil said. “Warriors don’t fall in love. But soldiers do.”
She gave him one last kiss, a tender one once more, before she walked away with a smile. Cyrus heard her footsteps echoing away… down the stairs… and away from him.
No.
No way.
He quickly sprinted down the stairs and caught Crystil about to descend the last flight of steps. To their right, two bedrooms remained empty—Celeste’s and his.
“Crystil!”
She turned with a look of confused curiosity. Without a word, Cyrus ran up to her, grabbed her, and kissed her with ferocity. He lifted her up, and the two stumbled through the hallways, kissing as they collided with walls. Cyrus made his way to his bedroom and pushed the door open, his hand behind Crystil.
“You’re relieved of your duties, commander,” he said.
Crystil, grinning, grabbed Cyrus and pulled him inside. Only a last second kick shut the door behind him as Crystil and he tumbled onto his bed.
26
Celeste didn’t go to sleep until well in the night. The conversation she’d had with Typhos stuck with her as one of the most genuine ones she could have possibly had with him, and it gave her hope that she could continue to press him.
That hope, unfortunately, kept her awake until late. Only because her body shut down did she manage to fall asleep, and even then, she didn’t make it back to her room. She passed out in the mess hall on a black couch near the entrance.
When her eyes slowly fluttered awake, she saw Cyrus sitting at a table, eating some meat, and… humming? Cyrus Orthran, humming? She sat up and saw his feet propped up on a chair, his body so loose it could have melted on the chair. There’s
no way he should be like this after yesterday.
Unless… wait. Yep. It paid off, didn’t it.
“Cyrus,” she said, a knowing smile on her face.
He turned to her with a broad grin, and she knew it without even asking or bothering to read his mind.
“There’s some mighty fine meat in the kitchen, you know,” he said. “Mighty fine. Best in the land.”
“Uh huh,” she said as she stretched out.
He said nothing more, continuing to hum, and she went to the kitchen. To her surprise, she saw Crystil cooking ursus. Cyrus, I swear.
“Hi,” Crystil said, equally happy. “I have to work soon, but I figured you might kill Cyrus if he had ursus and you didn’t.”
“Among other things,” Celeste said dryly.
Celeste took her food and sat next to Cyrus in silence. Behind him, Crystil walked out of the room and back into the warehouse, not once staring at Cyrus. As soon as she disappeared out of sight, Celeste looked right at Cyrus, refusing to turn her gaze until he looked up at her.
“So,” she said. “You seem awfully happy this morning.”
Cyrus shrugged, but a grin he could not suppress was forming over his face.
“I had a good night,” he said.
“A good night? Or a great night?”
Cyrus, who had dug a fork into the ursus on his plate, paused, sighed, and laughed.
“You and your sensing powers,” he said. “I swear we have to make it a rule in the future that you aren’t allowed to use your sense powers on me or Crystil or Pops.”
“I didn’t even need my sense powers for this one, Cyrus,” Celeste said, her arms crossed as she watched, bemused. “Sometimes, just a sister’s intuition will tell her everything she needs to know.”
“Lucky,” he said as he went back to chewing some meat. “So I guess you know, then?”
“Know what?” Celeste asked innocently.
“What happened last night,” Cyrus said.
“I don’t know. It seems kind of clear, but I’m looking for an adjective to describe how clear. Like… it’s something clear, but I can’t quite pin the word. What’s the right word for that, Cyrus?”
Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) Page 11