Failed Future (Air Awakens: Vortex Chronicles Book 3)

by Elise Kova

  A fraction of a fraction of the goddess’s power wouldn’t be enough to stand up against Raspian.

  It made sense and gave credence to her visions of Raspian shattering the scythe and striking her down. But all the other crystal weapons had been destroyed. Her father had told her that much.

  Vi clutched the watch around her neck and for the first time wondered if, perhaps, the future of their world couldn’t be saved.

  If there was only one path forward—into the eternal darkness of death.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The light streaming through the window of her room dimmed to night as Vi paced. It seemed like now the days were more darkness than anything else. The moon dominated the sky almost perpetually and daylight was only a couple hours.

  Finally her feet came to a stop and Vi let out a groan of frustration. She knew what she needed to do. But it was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Ulvarth would be at the trial, which meant he was tied up for at least a few hours. This was the perfect time for her and Taavin to work, though he was the last person she wanted to see.

  She was up the stairs of the archives despite heavy feet, through the trap door she’d discovered during her last excursion, up the ladder, and worrying away the ring holding the lock on his door without so much as knocking. Vi allowed the padlock to clang as she set it aside, the only warning before she opened the door.

  Taavin stood at the opposite window in all his heartbreaking beauty. He didn’t so much as look at who entered.

  Vi hovered in the doorway, trapped in the snare of wanting to scream at him and, at the same time, flee. Freeing herself from the hold of fear, she crossed the small room to the man. His eyes—distant, different—drifted to her. They felt like the eyes of a stranger.

  Things had been damaged between them and they both knew it. Vi held his gaze for a long moment.

  “Listen.” She knew she had to be the one to get the first word in. “I am not here for you. We still have a duty.”

  There was the little matter of the end of the world, and Vi would let him assume that was all she referred to. In truth, her treacherous heart still bled from the wounds he’d inflicted that her past experiences had only made worse. She still felt for him. She wanted to be ambivalent, but her emotions had yet to catch up to her mind’s stoicism.

  A small part of her still loved him. And that terrified Vi more than anything.

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Taavin said dully, leaning against the wall behind him.

  “I met with Queen Lumeria.” Vi stepped away, pacing. She noticed the scythe leaning against the doorway to the flame. Good, they wouldn’t have to go hunting for it.

  “Did you?” He looked back to the window, as if the sight of her was too painful.

  “I think I know what we need to do.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, though Vi didn’t know why. “I think the watch holds Yargen’s power. We need to use it and the flame to give more power to the scythe. When Yargen fractured her power, giving the staff to the Champion, he later fractured it further. It is only a part of her power, and it’s too weak to stand against Raspian on its own.”

  Vi turned away from the scythe to find him staring at her. “It’s not a terrible theory.”

  “I’m glad it makes the high mark of ‘not terrible,’” Vi muttered dryly. “It’s far better reasoning than the logic you used before betraying me,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “Vi, I—”

  “Don’t.” She glared at him, equally angry now at herself for her own pettiness. “I won’t bring it up again and you shouldn’t either. We have to focus now… we can deal with all that later.” Of course, there might not be a later, which suited her well enough. She worked to get them back on track, trying to keep her venom in check. “I think the word the Goddess gave me was for the watch.”

  “You think, or you know?” Taavin took a step forward.

  “I know,” she lied. She didn’t have time enough to sit on this particular egg, waiting patiently for it to hatch. All she knew for sure was that merely thinking of using the word filled her with confidence. She was right; she had to be. Vi lifted the scythe and opened the door to the flame. “Come and hold this with me.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because you’re the Voice. You also have a part of her magic in you, don’t you?” Taavin gave a small nod. “Surely that’s important. We’re trying to collect as much of the Goddess’s power as possible.”

  Taavin crossed over, grabbing the scythe around her hands. Vi kept him at arm’s length, but he still felt too close. She wasn’t strong enough around him yet—her mental defenses hadn’t been sufficiently fortified. Because her heart still wanted to love him—her mouth still ached to kiss him.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked softly, nervously.

  “Yes,” she insisted. But his worried look got the better of her. “Why?”

  “I have this weird feeling… as though I’m in two places at once.”

  “What?” Vi remembered the same sensation the first time she’d seen the scythe in the Twilight Kingdom. “I’ve felt something like that around the scythe before.”

  “Right. Perhaps it’s normal then.” He looked up at her, the soft blue glow of the crystal illuminating his face. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Vi took a deep breath, then a second, a third. Her nerves rose alongside the pounding of her heart with each stabilizing breath. She let her mind go blank, staring into the swirling magic of the scythe, allowing herself to feel the heat of the flame of Yargen.

  “Thrumsana.”

  Glyphs appeared from the watch on her chest. Layers on layers of them—just as Taavin had said. They swirled around them, filling the room with symbols Vi didn’t understand.

  The voices she’d heard at the tears—whispers, cries, screams, songs, and shouts—filled her ears once more. The cacophony was softer than she remembered, sharper, but overwhelming to her senses as it seemed to flow through her.

  Taavin let out a scream.

  He fell, and Vi dropped the scythe alongside him in shock. He writhed on the ground, clutching his head. Vi stared on, helpless, as veins bulged at his neck and temples.

  “Make it stop,” he begged. “Make it stop!” he screamed loud enough that Vi was certain someone had to have heard.

  “Taavin, Taavin!” His thrashes were too violent, not even allowing her to get near. “Th-Thrumasana!” Vi tried again, trying to imagine the glyphs going away.

  They did not.

  The magic began to shine brighter. The noise filled her ears. Taavin’s mouth was locked in a soundless scream and Vi watched in horror as his whole body tensed and arched off the floor. The glyphs condensed on him like ropes, sinking into his flesh. He shuddered with each one that collapsed in on him.

  Taavin gasped for air; tears streamed down his face, his eyes wide and unseeing as the assault continued. Vi covered her mouth, collapsing to her knees beside him. He may have betrayed her… but she had not wished this on him, had she? Had thrumsana somehow done this? Had the word somehow known the dark corners of her heart?

  “Taavin…” Vi said his name weakly, helpless as more glyphs poured from her watch into him. She did everything she could to bring the magic within her once more, but the powers had a mind of their own and Vi was helpless.

  He curled into the fetal position, crying out with each circle of light that crashed against him. His eyes were unfocused, his mouth hanging open, fingers contorted at odd angles with pain, his whole body quivering. All she had ever been to him was pain… and now she may well kill him.

  Vi unhooked the watch from her neck and thrust it toward the flame. “Take it!” she cried. “Yargen, make it stop!”

  The watch shattered. Light tinged with blue filled the room—but this was not a vision of the future overtaking her. It was Yargen’s pure magic. And rather than seeking out the scythe as she had hoped it would, it all flowed into Taavin.

  One fina
l scream, and it was over.

  He lay on the ground, limp and lifeless. Tendrils of magic swirled off of him, fading into the darkness. Soon there was nothing—no sound, no movement.

  “T… Taavin?” Vi whispered, crawling on her hands and knees to him. Her eyes were still adjusting to the dim light of the flame. “Taavin.” Vi rested a hand on his shoulder and he flinched.

  At least he was alive.

  “Taavin, I—”

  “Get out,” he rasped.

  “But you—”

  “Don’t touch me,” Taavin seethed. “Don’t touch me ever again. Not in this lifetime or the next.”

  “I didn’t mean for…” What hadn’t she meant for? This to happen? Hadn’t she loathed him for betraying her not hours before?

  Nothing between her heart and mind made sense right now.

  “I said out!” Taavin roared, sitting at once. The irises of his eyes were a green so bright and pale, it nearly matched the whites surrounding them.

  Vi bounced to her feet and ran.

  She sat alone in the darkness on the edge of her bed, clutching herself.

  What had happened? What was that?

  Questions swirled through her mind. Answers eluded her. Even after using the word, its meaning was no clearer to her. It felt as though a part was somehow missing. Perhaps that was why it had gone so awry. Perhaps a meaning was hidden in those seemingly endless glyphs.

  Vi rested her elbows on her knees and sank her face into her hands. The watch was gone. One more token of Yargen had been destroyed and Vi doubted the flame seeming dimmer after was only in her imagination.

  Slowly, she turned, looking out the window at the dark city. Maybe this would be the day the sun stopped rising altogether. The end of the world seemed more inevitable by the hour.

  The door opened suddenly and Vi’s eyes with it. She turned to face the man in the doorway slowly. Taavin stood, staring at her with a fire in his eyes she’d never seen before.

  “We have to move,” he said. “Now.”

  “Move? Where? Are you—”

  “There’s no time.” Taavin’s expression darkened. “The trial ended and your father will be put to death tomorrow.”

  It was her worst nightmare come to life. This was the reason she hadn’t wanted to come here.

  “If we hadn’t—”

  “Spare me.” Taavin glowered at her. After the events earlier, it now seemed the rift between them spread both ways. “It doesn’t matter I brought him here—none of this matters. I know now how to rekindle the flame and stand against Raspian.”

  “What do we have to do?” Vi asked softly. No matter the tension between them, it seemed they could still work toward this singular, common good. Perhaps when the world was saved, they could solve the rest—if things didn’t become too broken between them along the way.

  “Follow me.”

  Vi did, into the hallway and up the spiral stair that led to the walkway to the archives. As they crossed, Vi could hear noise and commotion growing. They were making preparations to kill her father. Vi didn’t have to walk up to the railing and look down to confirm it. She felt the dark truth in the air itself.

  “Through here.” Taavin pushed on the same trap door Vi had used. “The Swords are patrolling the Archives. They expect you to try to escape.”

  Vi moved quickly and quietly, not arguing. She wriggled through the narrow tunnel and into the passage where she could stand. A small flame appeared over her shoulder, illuminating them both.

  “What have you figured out?” Vi asked over her shoulder.

  “I was right—the traveler was right. The watch was the key to everything.”

  “But—”

  “Quiet,” he interrupted with a whisper. “Don’t talk here, it’s not safe.” They continued walking upward in silence, Vi’s nerves setting her hands to quivering. The shakes only stopped when Taavin’s firm grasp wrapped around her closed fist. “Wait here. Let me go ahead and make sure Ulvarth hasn’t decided to pay me a visit.”

  Vi pressed herself against the wall to let him pass. They were practically stepping on each other’s toes and his chest slid across hers. She wondered if his heart was beating just as hard as hers, or if she only imagined feeling it through the thin fabric of the Lark robes she wore.

  He disappeared in the darkness and Vi remained leaning against the wall, rubbing the bridge of her nose. The one good thing about everything happening all at once was that she didn’t have time to think or worry about any one thing. She needed to save her father, save the world, rekindle the flame… all while continuing to navigate the strained relationship between her and Taavin. She was so focused on surviving that she didn’t have time to be afraid.

  At least, until moments like this, when she was still and waiting.

  Unfocusing her eyes, Vi looked to the flame dancing over her shoulder, the one that had been lighting her way. She scratched at her bandages; the wounds were constantly itchy now. Vi tried to keep her mind on the tangible so it didn’t get too worked up over the possible horrors emerging from the shadows around her.

  But it was Taavin who appeared next. Not a Sword. Not Ulvarth himself.

  “Well? How does it look?”

  “Safe, for now. Let’s hurry.”

  Taavin started off into the darkness once more and Vi followed behind him. She paused, turning slowly. Their interaction was seared into her memory.

  She’d seen it before, Vi realized with a sense of growing dread. It wasn’t bright in her memory because it had just happened. It was seared in her memory because—

  “Taavin!” she hissed, grabbing his arm. Her words burst forth as fast as her heartbeat. “I’ve seen this before. My first vision… Here…” Vi looked down at her clothes, the simple, drab robes—the cowl—the bandages over her wrists and hands. “We haven’t changed anything.” Her eyes darted back up to him.

  “We haven’t changed anything, yet.” Taavin pulled his arm from her grasp and took a full step away, as if to see her clearly. His eyes burned brighter than the flame at Vi’s side. They were wide enough to swallow her whole—the wide eyes of a fear Vi didn’t know if she had the strength to acknowledge. “That’s what we’re going to do now, tonight… We’re going to change this world.”

  Vi nodded her head like she understood and when he continued into the darkness, she followed. It was possible he was leading her to a trap, Vi realized. He could be setting her up for yet another betrayal.

  She swallowed. She didn’t want to trust him again. But if she couldn’t trust him, she had to trust the fact that he had just as much of a reason to want to fix their future as she did. She had to trust in mutual goals, if not in the man himself.

  Up the ladder, Vi found out how Taavin had escaped.

  “You broke the door.” She stared at the scattered splinters and the annihilated lock. “But Ulvarth—”

  “After we rekindle the flame, Ulvarth won’t matter.” Taavin started in. He went to the shelf on his wall, lifting something from his watchmaking supplies. “Here, I made a new watch, you’ll need to hold it.”

  Vi held out both her hands to accept the small token. When Taavin’s fingers vanished, she stared at something nearly identical to the watch she’d carried across the world. The links were uncannily similar. The face was the same. The only difference was this one was shiny, new, so pristine that Vi could see her face reflected in it.

  Whereas the one she’d been gifted, the one Vi had received from Fritz, showed its age in every scratch, dent, and smear of tarnish.

  “What do we need to do?” Vi whispered. “Why do I need a new watch?”

  Her mind was jumbled. She’d packed it so full of information and plans that it was now about to explode. This would be the final straw.

  “Listen to me, there’s little time to explain now, but I will soon. After you are settled, summon me as you once did. I can explain it all then.”

  “Tell me now?” she asked, wishing her voice was stronger.<
br />
  Taavin lifted the watch from her numb fingers, fastening it around her neck as he spoke. “When the War of Light ended, Yargen fractured her power to keep Raspian at bay.”

  “One third to the tomb, one third to her Champion in a spear, and one third here in Risen as a living flame,” Vi recited. “And we have a piece of that staff in the scythe.”

  “But the scythe alone… it isn’t enough.” He stepped away, starting for the open doors. The flame cast him in silhouette. “The scythe with the power of the flame, your watch, my power—it’s not enough. We need all the crystal weapons to stand against him. We need the full power of Yargen.”

  “The full power of Yargen is gone,” Vi needlessly reminded him. “The caverns, destroyed. The other crystal weapons—”

  “Destroyed,” he finished for her, glancing over his shoulder, the light of the flame illuminating his profile. “I know it all. Thanks to your word, I now know every step this world has taken for hundreds of years, time and again.”

  “So then how do we rekindle the flame?” Vi asked, taking a small step toward him. “If that power is gone, if the crystal weapons were destroyed, along with the other third of Yargen’s power held in the Crystal Caverns… What do we do to reignite the crystals so we can bring her power back to the flame? What do we do to bring her power back so she can fight off Raspian?”

  “It’s not a what, Vi. It’s a when.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  When.

  When.

  Her mind sputtered and came to a halt on the word. Vi stood, swaying slightly. There was magic in the world. Powers great and small. Powers to heal and destroy.

  But there was no power that granted one the hold over time itself.

  To have that… one would have to be a… a… a goddess.

  “Vi.” Taavin summoned her from her haze. Vi looked up, startled. She hadn’t realized he’d crossed over to her. Now, he towered above her with every inch of his height. “You cannot lose yourself now. I need you here with me mentally. If we dally too long, we’re met with a great deal of hardship. Ulvarth comes and… Well, what happens then doesn’t matter because we’re not dallying.”